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Stepping out of the shower, Qui-Gon felt as though his brain were filled with static. As he finished shaving, drying his hair, putting on tee and boxers, his thoughts were a mess. It was as though the water had soaked him with white noise rather than rinsed him clean.
The master bedroom was almost too quiet by comparison. He shut off the bathroom light, the warm rectangle fading and revealing only the small lamp Shmi kept on her vanity, casting a dim glow across the room.
He still didn't know what to say to her.
So he sat down on the bed, flipping his reading light on and paging through the novel he was currently reading. But as he tried to find his place he found the words slipping though him like he was a sieve. He sighed.
"What is it?" Shmi asked.
When he turned to her, Shmi was watching him in the mirror, slathering her neck and décolletage with the lotion he loved. It made her skin soft and left her smelling of amber.
"You've been out of sorts for a few days now. I thought it was all the lead up to Christmas but now that its over…"
He let the book fall shut in his lap.
"Do you want me to do your shoulders?" he asked.
"Yes."
He pulled up a stool behind hers, letting the straps of her nightgown fall aside so he could run his hands in slow and steady circles across the curl of her shoulders, across the panes of her back, dipping down to her mid-back in light strokes.
"Not so far," she chided, but when he caught her gaze in the mirror, her eyes were sparkling.
"You smell so good," he murmured, pressing a kiss to her neck.
"You'd love anyone who rubbed enough of this chemical on themselves."
"How lucky I have you close by," he replied, the joke so old neither of them took it seriously.
"I'm really glad Ahsoka got along with the boys," Shmi said. "I think she had a good time today, don't you?"
"I do," Qui-Gon said, the words too slow as they left his mouth.
"Qui…" She grasped one of the hands that lay on her shoulder, squeezing his fingers. "What is it?"
He pulled the straps of her nightgown back over her shoulders, then leaned forward, pulling her close, watching her dark eyes study him in the mirror.
"Do you ever worry that the boys are too close?" Qui-Gon asked.
"Too close?" Shmi smiled. "I'm glad they're close. I remember I was so worried when I first saw them together. To be fair, I think middle school was really stressing me and Anakin out, not that high school was much better. I think it finally got better when Obi-Wan moved in, having an older brother around, though I remember it was rough at times." She was still smiling but watching Qui-Gon closely.
"I thought that was mostly the age difference between them," Qui-Gon mused, "they weren't children together, but they did grow up together in a way."
"What do you mean by 'too close'?" Shmi asked.
Qui-Gon dropped his gaze, studying the way the lamp light caught on a crystal perfume bottle, shearing across the dark wood surface, fractured and reflected in the mirror as a pale echo. He'd stood an eternity under the shower's stream and not figured out how to say this.
"What kind of impression do you think they might give an outsider?"
"Does it matter?"
"What kind of impression do you think Ahsoka will get?"
"The right one." She shrugged. "She thinks we're a loving family."
"Obi-Wan wasn't always the most affectionate. I gave him such a long talk about consent and hugging when we I first fostered him. The first time he hugged me back, I'll never forget how it felt." Qui-Gon choked on his laugh a bit, moved by his own memory. "He was all elbows."
Shmi seemed to travel with her thoughts, still stroking his arm where it lay wrapped around her waist.
"They're very affectionate with one another," he continued, resting his chin on her shoulder.
"There's nothing wrong with men being affectionate with one another. We've talked about the kind of social environment that forces men to be cold and distant. There's nothing wrong with them being tender with one another."
"Shmi… That's not what I'm saying…"
"Then what are you saying?" she interrupted.
For another moment, Qui-Gon let his mouth hang open, trying to find the words, and Shmi pulled out from his grasp with a jerk.
"They're too intimate…" was what he said.
For a second, her back stiffened but then she bent forward to pick up her robe and wrap herself in it, turning to face Qui-Gon.
"What are you saying, Qui-Gon?" She spoke deliberately and in a low voice, both of them well aware their children were only a few doors away, that the walls were only so thick.
"The impression—"
"Tell me what you're trying to imply. If you want to cast aspersions at Obi-Wan, then be direct. Don't hide behind anonymous outsiders."
She crossed her arms, standing tall despite her short stature. Right now, slumped on his stool, Qui-Gon was smaller than her and he felt it.
"That first day Anakin came back from school, when Obi-Wan gave him the wristwatch, I saw them in the kitchen."
Almost imperceptibly in the dim light, Shmi softened.
"They were fighting again weren't they? I thought maybe Anakin had been crying."
"No," Qui-Gon said, shaking his head, feeling his heart begin to race. "They were kissing."
"Oh," Shmi said. "When you say 'kissing' you mean…"
"Not unlike how we caught Anakin and Padmé that one time," Qui-Gon said, trying to sound wry.
"I see." Shmi seemed to collapse into herself and suddenly dropped to the bed beside her.
In an instant, Qui-Gon was kneeling on the carpet in front of her, taking her hands in his, stroking across her soft knuckles with his thumbs.
"Shmi," he whispered, pleading but he knew not what for.
"So you're saying," she halted, overcome. "You think that Obi-Wan… forced Anakin—"
"No." Qui-Gon shook his head vehemently. "The way they were… if you had seen it I don't think you could have mistaken it."
"Good," Shmi said, sounding choked. When Qui-Gon looked up, he saw that she was crying. "I thought I was going to have to fight you to defend our boy's honor." She smiled, half-laughing, before it became a sob. "Obi-Wan isn't like that."
"No," Qui-Gon said, feeling the sadness crack open inside him. "He isn't."
Shmi tried to compose herself. He could all too well imagine the tumult of emotions she was going through, but he couldn't watch her try to stop herself from feeling them. He opened his arms to her and pulled her close, murmuring: "Come here."
It felt like an age that they embraced like that; his knees protested but he could not let her go as she quietly wept into the fabric at his neck. When she at long last pulled away, wiping at her nose, he passed her the tissue box and dried his own eyes as well.
"You should get up from the floor." Her voice cracked as she spoke, reminding him of Anakin when he was upset.
"I'll meet you in bed,'' he said. "I just… need a minute…" He pushed against the bed, his knees aching. "Ow."
"Alright, old man. You get in bed, I'll get you a hot water bottle for your knees."
She brushed past him in that loving way, swatting him carelessly and with a tear-stained smile on her way to the bathroom. He listened to the water running, slowly making his way back to his side of the bed and getting under the covers.
"Here," she said, placing the bottle wrapped in a towel on his knees, pulling the covers back over him. "Very gallant of you, falling to your knees in front of me." She leaned forward to kiss him, running her thumbs across his cheeks. "There's no need to be dramatic," she whispered. "I'll turn off the lights and then… we can talk more."
He turned off his light. His head felt quieter, the house was soft with the night, and he watched Shmi walk through the moonlight on her way back to bed before crawling in beside him, wriggling until she was curled up under his arm.
And for a moment, the silence reigned. He hadn't known how to start this conversation and he didn't know how to continue it.
"You've been keeping this to yourself for days," Shmi said at last.
Perhaps it was good that she seemed to know how to say things when he couldn't.
"Why didn't you say something sooner?" she asked.
He could feel her peering up at him in the darkness.
"I didn't know how to," he murmured. "I was trying to figure it out myself."
"You didn't say anything to them, either?"
"No." He shook his head a little. "I just put it from my mind for the most part. They seemed to be the way they always were, though… Obi-Wan seemed a bit grumpy. When he's like that I just assume he's got something else going on and we need to distract him a bit if he doesn't want to talk about it. Though now I wonder…"
He trailed off. It was then Shmi's turn to hesitate. He could feel from the way she drew breath that she was about to say something, but it took a long moment for the words to finally come out.
"I know we both said, that Obi-Wan would never force anyone to do something, but I should probably check with Anakin, shouldn't I?"
"I suppose…" Qui-Gon idly stroked the skin of Shmi's arm, swimming through imagined conversations, trying to turn over his thoughts to find the truth of them. "Should we talk to them about this at all?"
"You think we shouldn't?"
"I have no idea…" Qui-Gon sighed. "The most I ever considered this before was discouraging foster children from dating or else separating them."
"Yes…" Shmi said slowly. "Does that mean we need to discourage them?"
"They're adults," Qui-Gon said. "I'm not sure we have any say in the matter."
"In a way I'm relieved." Shmi sighed. "When you asked me if they seemed close all I could think about was how happy they've both been."
"Yeah," Qui-Gon said, voice thick, and tightened his embrace on Shmi, feeling tears prickle his eyes again.
"Oh, Qui…" She reached up to cup his cheek and for a moment he let the roiling emotions shudder through him, heedlessly knocking the hot water bottle from his knees, letting her hold him. "It'll be alright," she murmured.
"Will it?" he asked. "If Ahsoka's social worker finds out, they could take her away from us. Not to mention our chance of fostering other children—"
"I think," Shmi said slowly, "there's a reason they've kept this a secret. There's the larger concern of coming out, but even before we had Ahsoka, we talked about fostering all the time."
"Obi-Wan knows the rules for foster kids pretty well."
"Exactly," Shmi said. "And… Can you find out what the rules are once they move out? Like, if Anakin moves in with Obi-Wan…" She trailed off to whisper: "It's so strange."
"I know," Qui-Gon said, and for all his prevarications over the last few days, he felt sure when he said, "but they're still our boys."
Shmi snuggled closer to him and he held her tightly. Eventually she kicked the water bottle and grumbled about wet sheets and threw it onto the floor. He joked about the floor damage but held her fast when she tried to slip out of bed to empty it. He kissed her the way he so rarely got to anymore, but there was no intent behind it, only a kind of contentment. When she was soft enough to let go, he got out of bed and took care of the water bottle, happily finding his wife kept the bed warm in his absence.
"How long do you think this has been going on?" Shmi asked.
"I hadn't given it much thought," Qui-Gon said slowly. "Though now I'm struggling to remember the last time either of them went on a date that I know of."
"Padmé broke up with Anakin just before she transfered schools," Shmi said. "And then there was that awful fight Obi-Wan and Anakin had. Though we never heard much of it beyond a venomous 'fuck you!' from Anakin. That went on for weeks and must have been… two or three years ago now. Not that long after Padmé…"
They both sat in stunned silence for a moment.
"I suppose we need to talk to them…" Qui-Gon said.
"Can it wait?" Shmi asked. At Qui-Gon's look she went on. "Until they're on break. Let's arrange a dinner at home. We'll make sure Ahsoka is at a sleepover or at the movies. Gives you time to do some research and for me to talk to Anakin."
"Alright," was all Qui-Gon said.
"I love you," was Shmi's murmured reply.
But as he drifted off to sleep, he could only hear the echo of her words in Anakin's voice, said so earnestly, and the way he'd never heard him say it to Obi-Wan before. He could see the look in Obi-Wan's eyes, he'd seen it in glances before, but had never understood. It was bittersweet.
Worry lingered like threatening clouds; he worried for all of them — Ahsoka and his wife, both the boys, even himself a little, in that distant and fragile way — but for the first time since Christmas the storm didn't seem so dark. They could figure this out.