[Ezra had been watching all of this the whole time, searching for any sign at all that his father needs help from him. Qui-Gon's wince of pain is subtle, but not enough to escape the eye of a concerned boy who's been living with him for half his life. Quickly leaning in, Ezra wraps his own hands around the cup - not to take it away from Qui-Gon, but to help him hold it, or to be ready to take it if Qui-Gon tries to give it back. Either way, concern practically vibrates through his whole frame as he helps to guide the cup to his father's lips. He tries to soften it with weak humor, but it's there nonetheless.]
Doesn't mean I haven't been eating. Since when have you known me to skip on food? When it's available, I mean.
[Because when food's been in short supply, they both had a bad habit of trying to make sure the other got fed at their own expense.]
[Looks like Qui-Gon's pride is taking hits from all over the place today. It's hard to not relent to the twinge of frustration at Ezra's necessary intervention, but thankfully the boy's concern is enough to alleviate any temptation to lash out--not at Ezra, but at himself.]
[As such, Qui-Gon is grateful as he takes a slow, deliberate sip of water, letting it sit in his mouth for a moment before swallowing, lest he choke as it drips against his dry throat.]
Thank you.
[He takes another sip, and then another until he's eventually drinking at a slow, but steady pace.]
And you've attempted to skip food plenty of times. Need I remind you about the times we've had to decide who got the bigger share of a meal? Absolute madness.
[Through it all, Ezra keeps his own hands steady, and his attention trained for any sign from Qui-Gon that he might need to slow or stop to give him a chance to swallow or breathe. The corners of his mouth twitch up, though, at the fond memories Qui-Gon's helping him recall.]
That's your own fault. [He says that with a hint of teasing. It occurs to him that this isn't necessarily a bad thing to talk about. They could both probably do with a lighter mood.] You raised me to try to always be fair, so of course I tried to be fair. You're bigger, so you needed more food.
[Ezra arches one lofty eyebrow at him - another expression he learned from his dad.]
Oh, so you're saying you want me to get fat. I see how it is.
[But teasing aside, he can't help but feel a knot of tension loosen just a little when hears Qui-Gon use his voice. Small as it is, it's still a sign of improvement. Ezra smiles, reaching out with the hand not holding the cup to brush some of Qui-Gon's hair back from his face. Not that Qui-Gon's ever cared much about his appearance, but Ezra thinks he'd at least appreciate having it out of his way. He does usually at least tie some of it back.]
[Qui-Gon is always taken aback at how Ezra’s expressions make the two of them look alike, despite there being no biological relation. Between the way Ezra’s eyebrows arched with incredulous skepticism to how his eyes would narrow when he disagreed with something Qui-Gon said to the way his lips would purse whenever he was deep in thought, all of the quirks that the old Jedi developed over the years seemed to imprint on this one boy in one fell swoop. In those moments, Ezra ceases to be his Padawan or adopted child and may as well be Qui-Gon’s very own flesh and blood. It’s not fair to the boy’s real parents, and there are times when Qui-Gon can’t help a pang of guilt, as if he’d ripped this amazing child from their very arms.]
[But here they are.]
[Qui-Gon’s eyes flutter shut when Ezra brushes his hair out of his face. The feeling of someone’s fingers against his forehead and face is still foreign to him—considering his master it’s no surprise—and he’s never really grown used to it. Truth be told, he doesn’t want to get used to it. He wants every familial moment to stay novel, to continue to change his life in tiny but profound ways. Every touch. Every smile. Every shared, poignant glance… he wants to steal them all and hoard them away somewhere deep inside, his own little treasures to marvel at away from prying eyes.]
[It’s selfish, pure and simple, to covet these experiences not meant for a Jedi, but his most recent brush with death has reminded him that these moments are all he has. They’re all he can call his own. Not even his legacy of fractured governments made whole and lives saved can truly be called his. The Empire has seen to that. His first Padawan has fallen, and his second is forced to stay in hiding.]
[No, the only true legacy he has is sitting beside him, a young boy full of ambition and kindness who wants nothing more than to do the right thing in the galaxy. And that’s enough.]
[When Qui-Gon’s eyes open again, they settle on Ezra. He stays silent for a little, the corners of his mouth quirked up in a small smile. When he finally speaks, it’s still in a whisper, but there’s strength returning to his voice.]
[If Qui-Gon had ever voiced that pang of guilt to Ezra, Ezra would have wasted no time in turning around and squashing it. It wasn't Qui-Gon's fault he'd been forced onto the streets, and if his parents are even alive, he thinks they'd be more grateful to Qui-Gon than anything else that he'd taken Ezra into his home and into his heart, giving Ezra the anchor of family that he'd needed as much as he'd needed food.
Even if Qui-Gon didn't ever voice that guilt aloud, though, maybe he would get the same message from the simple love and affection Ezra showed, from the smiles that beamed brighter when turned onto Qui-Gon, to the hugs Ezra reserved just for him, to the way his hands hovered for a moment before letting go, reluctant to give up their connection now that he's just gotten Qui-Gon back.
And then, too, there's the way that Ezra's thrived in the time since they'd adopted each other. Gone is the lost little boy who'd begun to lose his trust and innocence, and in his place is a young man growing straight and true with Qui-Gon's guidance, encouraged by the smiles and pride he's received from Qui-Gon in turn. He's Qui-Gon's legacy, for better or worse, seeking to emulate every example he's set, from stubbornness to morals and character laced with durasteel, compassion shining clear through it all.
What better argument is there that Qui-Gon did the right thing with him?]
Well, if I do, you can always give the extra to me - like you do anyway. [Ezra teases a little more, then finally pulls back with a smile.] I'll bring some tea, too.
[Because he knows his father too well.
Straightening up, he heads for the door to slip out of the room. His last farewell comes in a brief brush from the Force, warm and full of love.]
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Doesn't mean I haven't been eating. Since when have you known me to skip on food? When it's available, I mean.
[Because when food's been in short supply, they both had a bad habit of trying to make sure the other got fed at their own expense.]
Here. Let me help you with that.
no subject
[As such, Qui-Gon is grateful as he takes a slow, deliberate sip of water, letting it sit in his mouth for a moment before swallowing, lest he choke as it drips against his dry throat.]
Thank you.
[He takes another sip, and then another until he's eventually drinking at a slow, but steady pace.]
And you've attempted to skip food plenty of times. Need I remind you about the times we've had to decide who got the bigger share of a meal? Absolute madness.
no subject
That's your own fault. [He says that with a hint of teasing. It occurs to him that this isn't necessarily a bad thing to talk about. They could both probably do with a lighter mood.] You raised me to try to always be fair, so of course I tried to be fair. You're bigger, so you needed more food.
no subject
[Qui-Gon raises his eyebrows over the edge of the glass and at Ezra with his declaration before he pulls away, his thirst satiated for now.]
[A few moments pass before he clears his throat, his voice barely above a whisper as he tests the waters.]
You'll never convince a stubborn old man like me otherwise.
no subject
Oh, so you're saying you want me to get fat. I see how it is.
[But teasing aside, he can't help but feel a knot of tension loosen just a little when hears Qui-Gon use his voice. Small as it is, it's still a sign of improvement. Ezra smiles, reaching out with the hand not holding the cup to brush some of Qui-Gon's hair back from his face. Not that Qui-Gon's ever cared much about his appearance, but Ezra thinks he'd at least appreciate having it out of his way. He does usually at least tie some of it back.]
What if I brought enough food for both of us?
no subject
[But here they are.]
[Qui-Gon’s eyes flutter shut when Ezra brushes his hair out of his face. The feeling of someone’s fingers against his forehead and face is still foreign to him—considering his master it’s no surprise—and he’s never really grown used to it. Truth be told, he doesn’t want to get used to it. He wants every familial moment to stay novel, to continue to change his life in tiny but profound ways. Every touch. Every smile. Every shared, poignant glance… he wants to steal them all and hoard them away somewhere deep inside, his own little treasures to marvel at away from prying eyes.]
[It’s selfish, pure and simple, to covet these experiences not meant for a Jedi, but his most recent brush with death has reminded him that these moments are all he has. They’re all he can call his own. Not even his legacy of fractured governments made whole and lives saved can truly be called his. The Empire has seen to that. His first Padawan has fallen, and his second is forced to stay in hiding.]
[No, the only true legacy he has is sitting beside him, a young boy full of ambition and kindness who wants nothing more than to do the right thing in the galaxy. And that’s enough.]
[When Qui-Gon’s eyes open again, they settle on Ezra. He stays silent for a little, the corners of his mouth quirked up in a small smile. When he finally speaks, it’s still in a whisper, but there’s strength returning to his voice.]
Don’t go overboard. I’m not very hungry.
no subject
Even if Qui-Gon didn't ever voice that guilt aloud, though, maybe he would get the same message from the simple love and affection Ezra showed, from the smiles that beamed brighter when turned onto Qui-Gon, to the hugs Ezra reserved just for him, to the way his hands hovered for a moment before letting go, reluctant to give up their connection now that he's just gotten Qui-Gon back.
And then, too, there's the way that Ezra's thrived in the time since they'd adopted each other. Gone is the lost little boy who'd begun to lose his trust and innocence, and in his place is a young man growing straight and true with Qui-Gon's guidance, encouraged by the smiles and pride he's received from Qui-Gon in turn. He's Qui-Gon's legacy, for better or worse, seeking to emulate every example he's set, from stubbornness to morals and character laced with durasteel, compassion shining clear through it all.
What better argument is there that Qui-Gon did the right thing with him?]
Well, if I do, you can always give the extra to me - like you do anyway. [Ezra teases a little more, then finally pulls back with a smile.] I'll bring some tea, too.
[Because he knows his father too well.
Straightening up, he heads for the door to slip out of the room. His last farewell comes in a brief brush from the Force, warm and full of love.]