Obi-Wan presses his forehead against Qui-Gon’s until it hurts. He runs his hands through Qui-Gon’s long hair, and breathes in the distinct smell of pine incense that surrounds the man.
“I’m not the man you knew,” Obi-Wan murmurs against his skin. “This war has changed me. Your death changed me.”
A hand wraps around the back of his neck, holding him softly.
“I’m sorry,” Qui-Gon says.
Obi-Wan winces, and squeezes his lips together. “It isn’t your fault.” because you aren’t him. As much as I want you to be, you aren’t him.
Qui-Gon pushes them forward until Obi-Wan is on his back in the bed, and Qui-Gon is over him, one hand holding his body above Obi-Wan’s. Dark hair frames his face, creating a curtain around Qui-Gon’s long face, and causing his eyes to look an even brighter blue than usual, like the glow of a hologram. “I’m still sorry,” he says. “More than I can say. For leaving you, and for coming back.”
“Qui-Gon…” Obi-Wan begins stiffly, ready and willing to argue, but the man above him shushes him.
“I see how much pain I cause you. I feel it.” Qui-Gon shakes his head, long hair swaying. “I would not trade away this life now that I have it. To me, I am Qui-Gon Jinn. He and I are one and the same, but I know that isn’t true with you. It never can be. That is something… something we must both learn to accept.”