Archive of Our Own

Ever since Kybuck Clan learned about soul-writing they'd run about scribbling notes on their limbs nigh constantly. Master Ali-Alann had to sit them all down and patiently explain that it would not begin appearing on their soulmate's skin until both parties were past puberty. A few kept writing their own names on wrists or ankles just in case, but Obi-Wan resolved to be patient, figuring it would be more dignified. The Jedi as an Order did not disdain soulmates, considering them to be a natural aspect of the life and the Force in balance, so long as one did not forget their vows to put the good of the many first.

After Obi-Wan finally had a braid in his hair, he was painfully aware that Qui-Gon had incredibly strong opinions about soulmates and soul-writing. He felt that Xanatos had been led astray by his constant communication and preoccupation with his soulmate. Obi-Wan facing the Fallen Jedi on Bandomeer really drove home how serious such a fate would be.

For a little while, he was terrified of someone else's handwriting appearing on his skin, scared it meant he'd Fall like Xanatos before him.

After Melidaa/Daan he felt too broken, heart sick and shattered. No soulmate deserved to be burdened with a broken, failed padawan.

At the outbreak of the Stark Hyperspace War, he met Quinlan Vos and immediately found a connection. He found himself admitting his fears and Quinlan explained his childhood, that first day in the cave. He admitted that he could sense the Light in Quinlan, that Falling was a choice and there was no reason for Quin to grow up into anything less than the best of the Jedi. Quin had grinned, flushed under his qukuuf and punched Obi-Wan's shoulder, "Your advice isn't completely junk, maybe think about it for yourself, too."

The first day a series of 'hi hello hi hi hi' in washable marker appeared on his left thigh the week after Obi-Wan turned 19, Obi-Wan cried with relief that he wasn't so broken he couldn't have a soulmate. Obi-Wan understood immediately that his master would never condone him writing back. He kept running his fingers over it, but Qui-Gon watched him like a hawk for any sign of a soulmate so he kept his mouth shut.

When it faded it felt like he'd been kicked in the chest but he had to hide that too under his tightest shields.

The 'Knight Quinlan Vos' he found written down his left shin the day of Quin's knighting a few months later felt like the entire universe clicking into perfect alignment. Even with all the effort he put into playing serene and shielding like anything, Qui-Gon must have sensed something across their bond. Almost immediately after Quinlan attained knighthood, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan were called off planet for back to back missions. All thoughts of trying to sneak away to a comm or to smuggle a pen died a swift death as time and time again, Qui-Gon insisted on getting them caught up into the most ridiculous scenarios.

Surely other Consulars didn't need their lightsabers quite so often in the field?

To Qui-Gon's credit, he did try to throw Obi-Wan clear of the thermo detonator they stumbled upon.

It was Obi-Wan's own Force damned luck that getting clear also necessitated getting flung rather ignominiously off a cliff while a percussion impact gave his brains a good rattle.

Obi-Wan had lots of experience with falls from height, even unfortunate ones where he had gone dizzy and disoriented. He had somewhat less when such a fall dropped him into the river at the bottom of said cliff.

He woke up to the fury of water burning it's way back out his airways at the unyielding command of the huge hand on his back. Obi-Wan choked, gagging for air, and the movement jostled him into a screaming agony kept locked behind gritted teeth only by bitter instinct.

The Elders will hear if you scream, please, you have to be quiet, bite down on this.

"Obi-Wan." Blurry eyelashes fluttered, seeking out his master's voice as the large hand touched the tips of two fingers to one temple. "I have you. Sleep."

He did.

When he woke again it was to the piercing smell of disinfectant and a gentle finger lifting one eyelid to offend his person with a bright light directly into his brains, then the other.

"Hlugh," he protested, and the light retreated, replaced by the hazy blue blur he associated with Vokara Che.

"Hello again Obi-Wan, you're in temple. You've been kept under sedation for two days for transit in a stasis pod. We've cleaned up while you were under, and you're very welcome for my deep well of mercy. There's no immediate signs of infection, but we've given you a high dose of antibiotic just in case. Try not to move, no you can't have anything to eat, yes you need to be awake and suffer while you're prepped. Be a good boy now."

"Buh," he agreed, or was considered to have agreed as she stepped away to signal for her padawan to begin prep. Qui-Gon had already handled the usual flimsi work, so the padawan checked his mental status using simple questions as he wrangled his mouth to reattach to his brain.

"Correct! Well done, Padawan Kenobi." They uncapped a marker and high on his thigh carefully wrote 'This Leg'. Somethings may be obvious, but good practice was good practice. A moment later a note appeared and the padawan chirped. "Oh! Your soulmate! They must be worried, don't sit up, I'll reply."

'This Leg'

'For what?'

'Surgery, Che presiding, Prognosis Good.'

Obi-Wan couldn't quite read all of it upside down and he wasn't supposed to be sitting up too much anyway, so he just dropped his head back to let the pain relief do it's work.

"Alrighty, Padawan Kenobi, we've got your drip all set up, you just go ahead and have a nice nap."

There was a sudden commotion outside his room, but Obi-Wan dropped off to sleep between one heartbeat and the next.

He woke up to the steady noise of his biobed monitoring his vitals and a warm hand in his. Too small for Qui-Gon, he rubbed a thumb over a familiar knuckle and it's scar from a fall as kids.

"Obes. Obi-Wan, you awake?"

The lights were dim, but everything was fuzzy and bleeding together, still he blinked his eyes open to see Quinlan's relieved face.

"Quinny. Quin. Quin'linn."

"Hah," Quinlan's little laugh was strained, but his grin was real. "They have you on the good stuff."

"Shhh, Quinny."

Quinlan dropped his voice, squeezing himself down to bring their faces closer together. "Why do I have to be quiet?"

"It's a secret." Quinlan snorted but Obi-Wan tried to blink in such a way to indicate the import. "I just thought of a something."

"Did you?"

"Quinny, I can't write, but you can write. Not breakin' the rules from a point of view."

"Obes, I don't know what you're saying."

Obi-Wan flapped his other hand in the direction of his lower half. "My soulmate. Can't do it, it's illegal. But you can."

"Oh," Quinlan drew back a little, but Obi-Wan tightened his hold. "Obi-Wan, do you not know who your soulmate is?"

"Shhh!" Quinlan was so loud, did he not know this was a serious mission of deep secrecy? "No, I know, but Quin doesn't know I know, so you have to write for me so it's not crimes."

Quinlan went still, then his smile went all melted golden, rubbing his thumb over the pulse in Obi-Wan's wrist. "What do you want to tell him?"

"Oh! Put it on my foot! Qui-Gon doesn't check feet."

Quinlan was doing very badly holding back his giggles, and honestly what bad form. A soulmate should take these things seriously.

"What do you want me to write on your foot Obi-Wan?"

"Love you, Quin."

"Yeah?"

"A sense of urgency would be a blessing, Quinnalinn."

"Hush, Obi-Wan, I have to write a love note on your foot and you're a ticklish bastard."

"D'you think Quin will figure it out?"

"Somehow I think he's got a clue, Obi-Wan." Quinlan's grin was sunrise bright, all soft and orange-pink and glowing even as he pulled out a marker.

Obi-Wan yanked his good leg away from the ticklish wet.

"Force alive, Obi-Wan, if you kick me in the face I'm going to bite you."

"You gotta write it nice, Quin, what if you can't read it?"

"I know how to read my own handwriting, Obes, trust."

"Don't draw a dick Quinnny."

"I should, just for that."

"Noo!"

"Kriff! Obi-Wan, don't thrash, Vokara's gonna kick my ass."

"It's 'portant Quinny, is my chance."

Quinlan moved back up the bed to cup the top of Obi-Wan's head, savoring the fuzz of the gingery blond hair against his palm. "Don't stress yourself out, Obi-Wan. You still need to recover, I'll take care of you Obi-Wan, I promise. Your soulmate knows, okay?"

"Promise?"

"I swear. Just relax."

"Kay, Quinny."