[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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[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.
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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.]