The apartment, the rooms, the furnishings - such as they are - and it feels as though their very lives have shrunk down to Coruscant and the small, ordinary problems of living small, ordinary lives.
He is not used to feeling... overgrown.
He finds himself hunching, shoulders rounding in an effort to take up less space.
A bad habit, he knows, and an unworthy one.
In the back of his mind, however, he also knows that it isn't just the physical space that's begun to nettle at him. It's the emotional impact.
The Temple has dominated his life since he was a baby. He has known nothing else, though he has seen so much. And the one thing the Temple has always offered its Knights has been space. The space to learn, to grow, to reflect, to work. The space to see their actions as just one part of a wide arc of motive and consequence, past and future, not just the solitary, shallow present.
Qui-Gon does not regret leaving the Temple.
But he wonders if Tahl does.
She has recovered from the ravages of near-death on New Apsolon, though her strength and her health will never be what it was. She has recovered her grace and poise, her confidence. More to the point, she has recovered her equilibrium, which he envies.
Envy is a new emotion for him, as is desire and timidity.
How many months, he wonders, since the revelations on New Apsolon. Of holding Tahl's dying body in his arms, and knowing that he could not let her go. Of knowing that his life would be worthless without her. Of deciding that this one small personal love was worth more than the epic proportions of the galaxy thrice over.
She has never faulted him for the life bond he forged between them to keep her alive. She has never fought it, nor denounced it.
When everyone else questioned his sanity, Tahl stood by him.
He cannot lightly forget the look of betrayal on Bant's face, or the look of despair in Obi-Wan's eyes. He hopes they will understand when they are older and have seen more of the love one being can have for another. He hopes that when they do, they will find it in their hearts to venture out of the Temple - just once - to see what life can be like for small, ordinary people.
He turns his head unobtrusively to watch his wife.
The word jolts inside his mind, terrifyingly wonderful and wonderfully terrifying, and he watches while she moves gracefully from the tiny desk with the Archives terminus to the shelf where she keeps her comm unit for the Senate.
She has found work in the Senate as easily as she finds her way around the apartment she shares with him. As easily as she finds her way through the streets of Coruscant or the labyrinth of small, petty problems that arise when two Jedi Masters of a certain age leave the Order to be lovers in obscurity.
She has never faltered. Nor has she ever rejected him. Not even she woke and he confessed his sin.
She has taken everything in her stride and yet he finds his shoulders hunching beneath the worry that he has somehow stolen her from the world where she truly belongs.
Because the Temple has been her life as well, and the vast realms of information have been her domain, but now she works on small questions in a small apartment with small reward and he cannot help but think that this is unworthy of the woman that she is.
He is sunk deep enough into his thoughts that he doesn't immediately notice Tahl walking towards him.
He does notice when she stops before him, and certainly notices when she leans down to place her hands on his shoulders, and her lips against his brow.
"I can hear your doubts," she murmurs into his skin, "That bond is not only for energy, Qui-Gon. Your thoughts betray you."
And he breathes out slowly. "I'm sorry," he says, and begins to repair the shielding that he has allowed to slip.
Her grip on his shoulders tighten painfully.
"Stop that," she says sharply, and kisses his left temple with the barest brush of her lips.
Then, unexpectedly, she sits down in his lap.
He raises his eyebrows. Not that he disapproves but the gesture is new.
"I am only going to say this once," she says, her green and gold eyes fixed somewhere in the vicinity of his throat, "I do not regret this bond. I do not regret leaving the Temple. I am a Jedi with or without the acceptance of the Order. As such, my needs are simple and my wants are few. In fact, I can distil them all into one word - you. You insufferable, obstinate fool."
He blinks.
"If you regret the actions you took on New Apsolon, Qui-Gon," she continues, "Then I suggest you examine your own heart."
Instinctively he tightens his grip on her waist.
"You are my heart," he says.
She does not immediately respond. And then he feels it - the brush of her mind against his. The slow, seeping consciousness not his own.
He closes his eyes and groans.
She knows what that does to him.
"I'm glad to hear it," she says drily, and he isn't sure entirely whether she means his involuntary sound of pleasure or his voluntary confession of hopeless devotion.
The thought makes him smile. And he does not drop the fond, loving expression even when her fingers rise to curiously map the contours of his face.
She curls just as inquisitively into the depths of his thoughts, and he lays them bare for her. Open and vulnerable and entirely at her mercy.
"Well," she says at last, "I understand your concern about the rent but the bed?"
"It is a very small bed, Tahl," he protests.
Her fingers slip lower, to the sensitive skin of his neck and the pulse beating slow and steady.
She hums thoughtfully. "A tricky problem," she agrees, "But I'm sure we can find a way to fit."
Her fingers dip just beneath the collar of his shirt, rough-skinned and teasing, and he can feel the gleam of mischief in her mind as the realisation of what she means makes itself known to him.
He laughs and pulls her closer. "You always were cleverer," he says, and captures her mouth with his own before she can retort.
FILL: Qui-Gon/ Tahl - not as domestic but reasonably fluffy?
Well, *everything* is too small.
The apartment, the rooms, the furnishings - such as they are - and it feels as though their very lives have shrunk down to Coruscant and the small, ordinary problems of living small, ordinary lives.
He is not used to feeling... overgrown.
He finds himself hunching, shoulders rounding in an effort to take up less space.
A bad habit, he knows, and an unworthy one.
In the back of his mind, however, he also knows that it isn't just the physical space that's begun to nettle at him. It's the emotional impact.
The Temple has dominated his life since he was a baby. He has known nothing else, though he has seen so much. And the one thing the Temple has always offered its Knights has been space. The space to learn, to grow, to reflect, to work. The space to see their actions as just one part of a wide arc of motive and consequence, past and future, not just the solitary, shallow present.
Qui-Gon does not regret leaving the Temple.
But he wonders if Tahl does.
She has recovered from the ravages of near-death on New Apsolon, though her strength and her health will never be what it was. She has recovered her grace and poise, her confidence. More to the point, she has recovered her equilibrium, which he envies.
Envy is a new emotion for him, as is desire and timidity.
How many months, he wonders, since the revelations on New Apsolon. Of holding Tahl's dying body in his arms, and knowing that he could not let her go. Of knowing that his life would be worthless without her. Of deciding that this one small personal love was worth more than the epic proportions of the galaxy thrice over.
She has never faulted him for the life bond he forged between them to keep her alive. She has never fought it, nor denounced it.
When everyone else questioned his sanity, Tahl stood by him.
He cannot lightly forget the look of betrayal on Bant's face, or the look of despair in Obi-Wan's eyes. He hopes they will understand when they are older and have seen more of the love one being can have for another. He hopes that when they do, they will find it in their hearts to venture out of the Temple - just once - to see what life can be like for small, ordinary people.
He turns his head unobtrusively to watch his wife.
The word jolts inside his mind, terrifyingly wonderful and wonderfully terrifying, and he watches while she moves gracefully from the tiny desk with the Archives terminus to the shelf where she keeps her comm unit for the Senate.
She has found work in the Senate as easily as she finds her way around the apartment she shares with him. As easily as she finds her way through the streets of Coruscant or the labyrinth of small, petty problems that arise when two Jedi Masters of a certain age leave the Order to be lovers in obscurity.
She has never faltered. Nor has she ever rejected him. Not even she woke and he confessed his sin.
She has taken everything in her stride and yet he finds his shoulders hunching beneath the worry that he has somehow stolen her from the world where she truly belongs.
Because the Temple has been her life as well, and the vast realms of information have been her domain, but now she works on small questions in a small apartment with small reward and he cannot help but think that this is unworthy of the woman that she is.
He is sunk deep enough into his thoughts that he doesn't immediately notice Tahl walking towards him.
He does notice when she stops before him, and certainly notices when she leans down to place her hands on his shoulders, and her lips against his brow.
"I can hear your doubts," she murmurs into his skin, "That bond is not only for energy, Qui-Gon. Your thoughts betray you."
And he breathes out slowly. "I'm sorry," he says, and begins to repair the shielding that he has allowed to slip.
Her grip on his shoulders tighten painfully.
"Stop that," she says sharply, and kisses his left temple with the barest brush of her lips.
Then, unexpectedly, she sits down in his lap.
He raises his eyebrows. Not that he disapproves but the gesture is new.
"I am only going to say this once," she says, her green and gold eyes fixed somewhere in the vicinity of his throat, "I do not regret this bond. I do not regret leaving the Temple. I am a Jedi with or without the acceptance of the Order. As such, my needs are simple and my wants are few. In fact, I can distil them all into one word - you. You insufferable, obstinate fool."
He blinks.
"If you regret the actions you took on New Apsolon, Qui-Gon," she continues, "Then I suggest you examine your own heart."
Instinctively he tightens his grip on her waist.
"You are my heart," he says.
She does not immediately respond. And then he feels it - the brush of her mind against his. The slow, seeping consciousness not his own.
He closes his eyes and groans.
She knows what that does to him.
"I'm glad to hear it," she says drily, and he isn't sure entirely whether she means his involuntary sound of pleasure or his voluntary confession of hopeless devotion.
The thought makes him smile. And he does not drop the fond, loving expression even when her fingers rise to curiously map the contours of his face.
She curls just as inquisitively into the depths of his thoughts, and he lays them bare for her. Open and vulnerable and entirely at her mercy.
"Well," she says at last, "I understand your concern about the rent but the bed?"
"It is a very small bed, Tahl," he protests.
Her fingers slip lower, to the sensitive skin of his neck and the pulse beating slow and steady.
She hums thoughtfully. "A tricky problem," she agrees, "But I'm sure we can find a way to fit."
Her fingers dip just beneath the collar of his shirt, rough-skinned and teasing, and he can feel the gleam of mischief in her mind as the realisation of what she means makes itself known to him.
He laughs and pulls her closer. "You always were cleverer," he says, and captures her mouth with his own before she can retort.