Huddled in one corner of the stark room,
Obi-Wan rested his chin on his knees and contemplated the walls. It
was interesting, really, how different prisons were from world to
world. Often, you could see just how advanced a society was by how
they housed and treated their prisoners. The walls surrounding him
were made of smooth, dark-hued metal, with the only light coming in
dimly from above them. The floor was cool against Obi-Wan's bare
feet, they'd taken his boots and belt, but the room itself was
comfortably warm so it made little difference, and if he were truly
cold there were plenty of blankets stacked on the mattress in the
opposite corner.
The people of Cheigon treated their prisoners well, it would seem,
but Obi-Wan had long ago realized that looks could be deceiving. His
internal clock was already counting down the minutes. It wouldn't be
long now, the Cheig were nothing if not punctual. He went back to
staring sightlessly at the walls. Obi-Wan had memorized every tiny
flaw in the metal, every discoloration as boredom drew out like a
blade. He chastened himself mentally for his restlessness, only a
few minutes more and boredom would be the least of his worries.
There was a soft hiss and the wall across from him slid open,
revealing two of the blue-skinned Royal guards, holding another limp
figure between them. Obi-Wan watched as they carried their burden in
and lay him on the bed, resentment that he could not help burning
within.
They were surprisingly gentle, settling Qui-Gon on the hard mattress
with care before they backed slowly from the room. Obi-Wan never let
his gaze stray from them, ignoring the pity in their eyes. If they
truly cared none of this would be happening. Guilt was no adequate
payment for cruelty.
The instant the door closed again, Obi-Wan scrambled to his feet,
coming just to the edge of the mattress where he stopped, watching
his master helplessly. He'd curled into a ball the moment the guards
had released him, shudders racking his large frame as he fought the
agonizing spasms coursing through his muscles. Prior experience had
taught Obi-Wan that this would ease eventually but the spells were
getting longer and exhausting his master worse each time they took
him away for questioning.
Such an innocent word, questioning, but the Cheig could use any word
they liked for it, they could call it eating breakfast and it would
still be nothing else but torture. There were more reddened patches
of skin along Qui-Gon's bare back and chest; his tunics had long
since vanished. Qui-Gon had explained to him earlier on that those
spots were where the electrodes were attached and that they couldn't
use the same spot for more than a few days at a time without
deadening the nerves permanently.
This kind of concern in the face of what these people were doing
sickened Obi-Wan. It hardly mattered if they were doing permanent
damage or not. Even a Jedi Knight could only withstand so much. A
Jedi's power was only as strong as the shell that held it. He closed
his eyes, unable to watch his master's pain any longer. If something
didn't happen soon, anything, Qui-Gon was going to die and all he
could do was stand by and watch.
His eyes closed, Obi-Wan could no longer see the tremors but he knew
the moment they began to ease. Qui-Gon's harsh gasps for breath were
slowing as the lessening spasms once again allowed him to draw air
into his lungs. Qui-Gon had told him that for the first few moments
it was like drowning, strangling on his own lack of air. His tone
had been so calm and matter-of-fact while the very idea had raised a
tremor of fear in Obi-Wan, and then guilt. He wasn't the one who was
suffering, what right did he have to be afraid?
"Padawan?" A hoarse whisper but it brought Obi-Wan to his side
instantly. Tears welled helplessly in his eyes at his master's face,
damp with perspiration and he used his sleeve to wipe the droplets
of sweat away.
"Why do they keep doing this?" he blurted out, hastily wiping his
eyes with the back of his hand.
"The Regent believes that I have some kind of information," Qui-Gon
said calmly, closing his eyes and allowing Obi-Wan to cover him with
a blanket. "It's a shame that I can't give them what I do not have."
"The Regent is insane! That's the reason we came here to begin
with!" Anger was coming despite his best efforts to control it and
Qui-Gon could surely feel it yet he said nothing.
"Yes, she is. But her people are still loyal to her and they will do
as she commands."
"And why not me?" Obi-Wan asked, furiously scrubbing his eyes again.
His innate sense of fairness was screaming against so much
injustice, torturing his master and only his master. One of
Qui-Gon's hands lifted feebly and a rush of misery went through the
boy to see him so weak.
Qui-Gon traced a light path down his padawan's smooth cheek with the
tip of a finger. "They see you as a child, and the Cheig's sense of
honor will not allow them to harm a child."
"But I'm not..."
The still raised hand shifted to firmly cover Obi-Wan's mouth. "I
know you do not like being called a child, Obi-Wan, but it this case
you would be wise to let it be."
He nodded miserably and Qui-Gon removed his hand. He slide over a
bit closer to the wall and Obi-Wan took his unspoken invitation.
Qui-Gon was always chilled after the shaking finally lessened. Not
bothering the remove his tunics, he climbed into the hard bunk and
snuggled as close to his master as he could, sharing their body
warmth. There would only be a few hours reprieve before they came to
take Qui-Gon away again and they had to get what sleep they could.
Still, his mind refused to settle down, and Obi-Wan finally murmured
a question that had been bothering him since this began. "I'm just
surprised that they aren't using me to get to you."
As tired as Qui-Gon was, he still managed to turn over and pull his
padawan into his arms, resting his cheek against Obi-Wan's soft
hair. He held the boy very tightly for a long time before he said,
"The Cheig are not monsters, Obi-Wan." His voice became dry.
"Although, I must admit that I am not particularly delighted with
their hospitality. In their culture, one becomes an adult in their
twenty-first year and harming children is quite possibly their most
inflexible cultural taboo." He lifted a slightly unsteady hand to
Obi-Wan's cheek, kindly saying nothing about the damp streaks there.
"As I said, you should be grateful they see you as a child. I
certainly am."
******
The tremors were just starting to ease as Obi-Wan sat down on the
edge of the bunk. With the edge of his sleeve, he dabbed at
Qui-Gon's brow lightly. Uselessly. It was infuriating, this
helplessness. The best he could do was assisting Qui-Gon with his
healing techniques. Even a Jedi Master could not heal himself
without some effort and Qui-Gon was exhausting himself trying to
deal with the torture's effects in between sessions.
Obi-Wan was lending him as much strength as his master would allow
but it wasn't enough...even a strong man could only take so much
before he broke and Obi-Wan had watched his master getting weaker as
the days passed, and his ability to control the Force weakening with
it. They hardly let him sleep anymore; the sessions were coming
closer together every time.
He pulled back slightly, searching under the blankets for the small
jar he had hidden there. The last time the guards had taken Qui-Gon,
one of them had lingered behind and given him the jar of ointment,
explaining in urgent whispers that it would help with the burns. The
guard's eyes had been both sad and sympathetic, and Obi-Wan had
abandoned his pride and accepted it. Much as he disliked the guards,
he could understand their position. Their ruler was mad but could
any of them risk their lives and the lives of their families to defy
her? Although perhaps Obi-Wan could accept this better if it wasn't
his master suffering for their non-action.
Opening the jar, he started to smear the balm on the reddened
patches of skin that were scattered over Qui-Gon's chest. The
ointment must have done some good because Qui-Gon sighed in relief,
relaxing as much as the tremors that still shook him allowed.
It was only a small thing but it was all Obi-Wan could do, this and
sit, waiting each time for his master to return. So frustrating to
be so helpless but what could he do to help, unless...
His hands paused, resting lightly on Qui-Gon's chest but he barely
heard the soft murmur of protest. A thought came to him, an obscure
fact from a class he'd taken the last time they were on Coruscant.
In humans, sexual release could sometimes help in treating certain
maladies. Orgasm released endorphins, which, in some cases, could
help ease cramps, headaches...and muscle spasms.
Did he dare, he wondered, resuming his task of treating the small
burns on Qui-Gon's skin. His hands seemed to have thoughts of their
own on the issue, massaging the ointment into his master's skin far
more than was necessary. He ran his fingers through the crisp curls
on Qui-Gon's belly curiously. The hair on his own chest was still
rather sparse and he had dismal hopes of it ever becoming like
Qui-Gon's. His master was just a hairier person than he was, he
supposed.
Taking a deep breath, he let his hands wander lower, down to the
edge of his master's trousers where there were no burns. Large,
still trembling hands abruptly caught his wrists and he started,
nearly falling off the bed. He wasn't released and he shyly lifted
his eyes to Qui-Gon's.
"What are you d-doing?" Qui-Gon's eyes were half-closed, regarding
Obi-Wan in what seemed to be an oddly lazy manner. More likely his
still contracting muscles caused it. Obi-Wan swallowed nervously and
when he replied, his voice sounded strangely husky to his own ears.
"Helping you." He hoped. This would probably be exhausting in it's
own way but maybe, maybe...
Qui-Gon's eyes opened wide as Obi-Wan pulled his hands free of the
loose grip and settled them cautiously on the front panel of his
master's trousers. He touched gently, worrying briefly if Qui-Gon
would respond, if he were too tired, in too much pain. He was
startled when the soft bulk beneath his fingertips came to life
immediately, seeming to push eagerly against Obi-Wan's tentative
hands.
He traced the hardened length through the fabric of Qui-Gon's pants
wonderingly. It seemed like nothing more than an odd bulge, only
visible in the loose pants because his master was lying down. Could
this truly help?
Only one way to find out...his hands left their warm resting place
and went instead to the fastenings of his master's clothes. He
plucked the hidden ties free neatly, opening the flap and Qui-Gon's
hands fluttered helplessly around his own but didn't stop him.
"Padawan," he protested weakly and Obi-Wan shook his head, pressing
his master's hands back against the blankets.
"Shh, let me help you. Please, just let me. Please?" he begged
softly. There was nothing else he could do but this, offer what tiny
bit of comfort there was, if Qui-Gon would let him.
His master took a deep, shaking breath and released it. He said
nothing and Obi-Wan took it as permission, pushing aside the folds
of cloth that would reveal Qui-Gon's penis to his curious eyes.
Much like his own, larger, he saw with some dismay but then Qui-Gon
was fully-grown and taller than he was ever likely to be besides.
Flushed a deep crimson, the shaft curved upward against Qui-Gon's
belly, a thin line of clear fluid leaking from the head. Carefully,
Obi-Wan touched the tip, smearing the soft liquid against his
fingertips and Qui-Gon shuddered slightly in a way that had nothing
to do with muscle spasms.
He wrapped his hand around Qui-Gon's erection and gave a tentative
stroke. He'd never done this before to anyone but himself but
certainly the same theory should apply? His master seemed to be in
tacit agreement, his hips arching upward into each hesitant caress
and Obi-Wan tightened his grip, earning a soft moan of approval.
Obi-Wan watched, spellbound, as his master's entire body stiffened,
hands clenching into fists and his lower lip caught between his
teeth. The hard penis in his grip began to throb steadily and hot
creamy fluid spurted out over his hand and his master's stomach.
Qui-Gon relaxed so profoundly he seemed to all but melt into the
blankets. He still twitched slightly but Obi-Wan doubted it was from
pain. Still slightly in awe of what he had done, Obi-Wan ran a
finger through the lines of semen that glistened wetly on his
master's skin. He rubbed his fingers together, testing the
consistency and, without thinking, he raised his fingers to his lips
and tasted it.
Salty, faintly bitter but interesting just the same. He started to
lick his fingers again and froze when he saw Qui-Gon watching him.
He lowered his hand to his lap, wiping it surreptitiously against
his tunic. Qui-Gon's eyes never lowered, but his hands moved slowly
to fasten his pants.
If Qui-Gon was no longer trembling then certainly Obi-Wan was. He
had only wanted to help, what if he'd made Qui-Gon angry, or even
made it worse? His master certainly seemed to be better...
"I'm sorry," he muttered and then nearly squawked in surprise when
he found himself cradled against Qui-Gon's chest. His master had
buried his face against the side of Obi-Wan's neck and trying to
turn his head revealed that his padawan braid was caught tightly in
his master's hand.
"You didn't have to do that, Padawan." Muffled against his skin and
Obi-Wan nearly sighed in relief. He wrapped his arms around
Qui-Gon's neck and snuggled closer.
"I know," he whispered and Qui-Gon hugged him tighter, rocking
slightly until his exhaustion caught up with him and he drifted off
to sleep, still clutching his padawan against him.
******
Obi-Wan had discovered on the very first day that the room he and
Qui-Gon were imprisoned in was exactly five steps by four steps when
he was angry, and about seven by five when he wasn't. Now he was
reduced to walking the perimeter of the room. His backside was
getting sore from sitting and going through any exercises was really
out of the question.
He had a problem with patience, Obi-Wan knew, had for years but he
doubted even the most strenuous of serenity training could help him
in this when he knew what was happening to his master while he was
trapped in this barren room.
They hadn't been on planet for more than a handful of hours before
the Regent had accused them of spying and had them imprisoned. They
could have fought, Obi-Wan supposed, but what good would it have
done? All they would have accomplished was killing innocent people
who were only following orders and they still would have been
captured. Two Jedi were no match for an entire planet.
The only ray of light they had was that if they hadn't checked in
for three days the Council would send another envoy to discover why.
It had been three days yesterday and assuming that the
representative was sent from Coruscant it would be several more days
before they could expect any assistance.
If Qui-Gon lasted that long.
They'd both been awakened nearly five standard hours after they had
fallen asleep, which was much longer than was usually allowed
between sessions. He wondered if the guards were trying to allow
more time for their unwanted prisoner to recover or if the Regent
simply didn't want Qui-Gon to die too quickly. They would have no
one to question if they killed the Jedi master too soon, unless they
wanted to wait for Obi-Wan to become of age and somehow he doubted
the Council would allow him to be held hostage for that long.
The Regent had to be mad, torturing a Jedi to the point of death.
The Senate would have her head, at the very least Cheigon was
destroying its alliance with the Republic. Obi-Wan stopped his
pacing and leaned back against the wall, allowing himself to slide
downward to the floor. And perhaps if they survived this he would
care what happened to the Cheig. At this moment all he wanted was to
be somewhere, anywhere else, doing anything else with his master,
anything at all...
Unaccountably, his mind strayed back to what he had done the day
before and he felt his cheeks redden. It had seemed to make sense at
the time and certainly Qui-Gon had seemed better for it but now he
felt rather shy and faintly embarrassed. Although...it had been
fascinating to see Qui-Gon like that, not vulnerable, he had seen
that frequently of late, or not just vulnerable. For only a moment
Qui-Gon had been completely susceptible to anything that Obi-Wan
did. It was an odd feeling of power and Obi-Wan wasn't sure if he
liked it. Was that was sex was supposed to be like, having control
over someone else?
Obi-Wan couldn't imagine giving someone that kind of power over him.
He blushed hotter at the thought of Qui-Gon touching him like that,
large hands moving gently over his skin and he shifted uncomfortably
as his body reacted to the idea.
He firmly told his body to stop it. It hadn't been about sex, it had
only been to help. A healing technique, really. 'Then why did you
lick your fingers afterward?' an amused voice in the back of his
head asked.
Well, that was just curiosity. Obi-Wan had heard so much about
different sexual practices in the past few years but he'd had very
little opportunity to test any of those theories. All right, so
non-existent was a bit more accurate but it didn't matter, did it?
Qui-Gon hadn't minded and it was a master's duty to teach his
padawan. Although that might be considered taking masterly
instruction a little far...
The little voice laughed and Obi-Wan pushed it firmly from his
thoughts. He'd been alone far too long the past few days if he was
starting to hear voices and aside from that the guards should be
returning any minute now with his master.
Should be.
He shook his head. He was just thinking in circles and it was
getting him nowhere. Finally giving into temptation, Obi-Wan
stripped off his tunics before kneeling in front of a wall.
Pillowing his hands behind his head for support, Obi-Wan rolled into
a headstand, balancing easily. Closing his eyes, he relaxed into the
familiar pose as he opened himself up to the Force. It surged
strongly into him with almost startling intensity, but he relaxed
and allowed it to flow through him. Qui-Gon had told him as he got
older his Force ability would gain strength and it was reassuring,
in a way, to realize that he wasn't as alone as he felt.
The sterile wall behind him began to fade as an energy that he
didn't quite understand but did not fear filled him. Colors began
fluttered in his vision, forming into jumbled images, impressions
and Obi-Wan frowned, closing his eyes tightly. A vision of the
future, perhaps, or ones of the past? He'd had such visions before,
possessed a nebulous gift of sight that he had not often used and
did not trust but this time instead of closing off the images, he
pushed deeper. Forewarned was not always forearmed, but it certainly
couldn't hurt to have an idea of what might lie ahead.
The tumbling images came sharply into focus, like a holo-picture.
Qui-Gon, pain, screaming, pain, fear and the sudden, stark image of
a single droplet of blood and Obi-Wan collapsed suddenly, his back
protesting as he tumbled onto the hard floor. The side of his head
struck the wall, hard, and stars flared briefly before his eyes. He
blinked them away, rubbing the rising bump on his head gingerly as
he pushed himself up to lean against the wall.
Panic was so thick in his chest he was nearly choking on it and
Obi-Wan belatedly realized he was shaking. He crawled over to the
mattress and fumbled with a blanket, wrapping himself in its
scratchy warmth. Shock wasn't uncommon after a vision, especially
for someone as unaccustomed to it as he was. Deliberately, Obi-Wan
slowed his breathing, some of his horror at the vision fading. The
chances that it was a true vision were fairly slim. As Master Yoda
had told him often, the future was not set and the Force could as
easily show what might happen as it could what would happen, and
Obi-Wan was not very adept at interpreting visions.
Either way, he was sincerely regretting looking into it; his head
was throbbing from a combination of hitting it and stress, and all
for a bit of foresight that had prepared him for nothing.
Whether the images Obi-Wan had seen were true or not, he had a very
bad feeling about this.
******
Time seemed to have slowed, creeping by second by second as Obi-Wan
waited for any approaching sound to indicate the guard's return. If
the Cheig were staying true to form, they would be back any minute
now with his master and Obi-Wan was fidgeting uselessly, his vision
from earlier still fresh in his mind. Qui-Gon, pain...and blood.
A handful of eternal minutes later and the door open with a hiss to
a familiar scene, his master being half-carried inside by two Royal
guards. Qui-Gon managed to seat himself on the bed instead of
collapsing as he had the day before, Obi-Wan saw with some relief.
Apparently his vision hadn't come true; his master actually looked
better than he had after the last session.
The guards left silently, the door sliding shut behind them and it
was then that Qui-Gon collapsed, a muffled groan escaping from
between clenched teeth. Curled up on the bed, his large frame was
shaking with hard spasms and Obi-Wan watched in helpless
frustration. This was wrong, painfully wrong. All he and his master
had come here for was to help and they had been rewarded with this.
Pain, that showed itself in beads of sweat that gleamed on pale skin
and bruised lips as Qui-Gon bit them in a futile attempt to silence
moans that escaped him. Pain that he couldn't hide from his padawan,
though it was obvious he was trying, pain that clenched every muscle
of his body into an instrument of torture far worse than the ones
the Cheig used.
Pain.
Obi-Wan was next to his master before he had even considered what he
was doing, sliding into the bed and wrapping his arms around
Qui-Gon's waist. He pressed his cheek against the damp skin of the
older man's back, his nervous hands already fumbling with the
fastenings of Qui-Gon's trousers. The token protests of yesterday
seemed forgotten as large hands pushed his inexpert fingers aside
and undid the ties, freeing already eager flesh.
Qui-Gon's hands captured Obi-Wan's, enfolded them into his grasp and
brought them downward, wrapping their combined hands around his
erection. Painfully hot, soft skin against his palms and Obi-Wan
wrapped his hands around the length of the shaft, stroking quickly,
his nervousness forgotten. Qui-Gon's hands withdrew, sliding down to
circle his wrists lightly as if afraid Obi-Wan would retreat and
leave him like this.
It was exhilarating, terrifying, his master who was so much larger,
so much stronger, was shaking in his embrace. Obi-Wan was swamped in
an uncomfortable combination of too many emotions to analyze,
Qui-Gon's agony of pleasure that he could feel if he just reached
out a little through their bond, nearly cut off entirely the past
few days as Qui-Gon tried to spare him the pain of his torture. He
wished he had his master's adeptness with words, so that he could
explain that just cutting off their bond wasn't keeping him safe. He
knew anyway, could feel the pain trembling just outside his grasp.
Emotions, too many emotions, his own, Qui-Gon's, pain, arousal, a
weeks frustrations boiling up inside and he wanted to touch his
master like this, feel the pain easing in the older man's body as he
gasped and moved into Obi-Wan's hands, his shifting hips rubbing
against Obi-Wan's almost unrealized erection as he moved to press
against Qui-Gon.
It was wonderful, the slickness of Qui-Gon's cock sliding between
his fingers, the cool dampness of skin beneath his cheek. The pain
was fading away, into memory, something that was easily pushed aside
and Obi-Wan did, immersing himself instead in the pleasure and not
wanting anything to interfere in this. He didn't want his master to
know that having to watch Qui-Gon suffering, while he stood by
helplessly, had been killing him in slow degrees. If he could do
this, help his master in any way, he would.
Obi-Wan pulled back suddenly, ignoring Qui-Gon's protesting whimpers
and pulling free of the older man's grasp before it tightened.
Scrambling down, he pushed Qui-Gon to lie flat, distantly amazed as
his master obeyed him instantly.
Kneeling between Qui-Gon's legs, he paused a moment to study the
heavy erection that rose up eagerly from its nest of dark curls.
Pulsing slightly, the tip was wet and slick, and with a last,
apprehensive glance upward, Obi-Wan leaned forward and very gently
kissed the flared head.
His eyes met Qui-Gon's, rich blue hazed with pleasure and never
letting his eyes stray, Obi-Wan parted his lips and allowed his
tongue a taste. Bittersweet salt and he lapped the clear fluid away,
sucking carefully. Large hands cupped the sides of his head, not
pushing him but instead begging, and he responded to the silent
plea, taking as much of the shaft into his mouth as he could without
choking.
A detached part of his mind couldn't believe he was doing this, but
he silenced it without a thought. It wasn't so difficult, stroking
the soft, smooth skin with his tongue as Qui-Gon's hips lifted,
thrusting forward carefully, and it was no surprise that his master
wouldn't choke him, would be so very careful of his padawan's virgin
mouth. Hadn't Qui-Gon always cared for him, even at the expense of
his own pain? Obi-Wan had known it to be true, always, and he could
no longer accept that sacrifice.
Such a little thing he was giving didn't seem able to make up for
Qui-Gon's suffering but it was all he had and he gave it eagerly,
let his master fuck the velvet depths of his mouth and he was ready
when the hard thighs beneath his hands tensed, a broken cry escaping
the older man as pushed forward a bit too far, harder than he had
before but Obi-Wan didn't protest, swallowing against his gag reflex
and dragging a sharper cry from Qui-Gon as he finally surrendered
and came, warm pulses washing over Obi-Wan's caressing tongue and he
drank it down without a pause.
He let the softening shaft fall from his lips, licking away the last
traces of Qui-Gon's orgasm as he watched his master collapse again,
this time in exhaustion instead of pain.
Clasping his hands tightly in his lap, Obi-Wan watched as his
master's breathing slowed, his trembling eased. He studied Qui-Gon,
his own arousal somehow distant. It was much more fascinating to see
what he had done to Qui-Gon, with such a simple act. The older man's
long hair was unbound, darkened with sweat and strands of it were
clinging damply to his face. He was breathing as if he'd just run a
great distance. His eyes were still closed and Obi-Wan watched his
tongue flick out to moisten dry lips before he spoke.
"Padawan, come here to me?"
A question, not an order though it took Obi-Wan a moment to register
that words had been spoken. He uncurled himself and shifted to crawl
forward, stretching out over Qui-Gon's body. Now his own desire was
letting itself be known urgently and he sprawled out over the length
of the man beneath him, uncertain of what to do but needed to do
something, anything.
Large hands cupped his backside, pulling him tightly against
Qui-Gon's hips and Obi-Wan gasped aloud at the feeling of his
erection rubbing against the firmness of his master's belly. He
rocking forward again, biting his lip as sensation crept upward into
a sudden jolt of pleasure. Qui-Gon was warm and pliable beneath him
and he buried his face into his master's chest, the curls there
tickling his nose as he inhaled deeply the sharp scent of sweat and
sex. He thrust against Qui-Gon's willing form but somehow it wasn't
enough and he needed more than this, much more.
Rolling aside, Obi-Wan quickly unfastened his trousers and skimmed
them off, fumbling off his tunics even as his hands were reaching to
tug on Qui-Gon's pants. Lifting his hips, his master allowed him to
pull them off and toss them aside, before Obi-Wan quickly moved to
lie on top of him again and the sudden feeling of their bare skin
touching dragged a moan from both of them.
Obi-Wan could feel the beginnings of Qui-Gon's erection nudging
against his belly and he reached down to touch, relishing the older
man's startled gasp. A last gentle squeeze and he pulled his hand
away, moving so that his own shaft was rubbing Qui-Gon's. His master
responded instantly, moving to cup Obi-Wan's hips in his large
palms. Obi-Wan shifted, rubbing against his master and Qui-Gon
simply let him, as pliable as water against him. Their skin was damp
and clinging, slippery with sweat and desire as they moved against
each other, with each other.
Heat, Obi-Wan was dazed with heat and building pressure inside, and
he arched against his master, felt the sharpness of pain as
Qui-Gon's fingers dug into the softer flesh of his backside but the
bright flare only seemed to increase his rising heat. It seemed to
burst forth and without thought he bit Qui-Gon's shoulder, muffling
his cries. Dimly, he heard Qui-Gon's breath hiss between his teeth,
his fingers tightening further as he lifted his hips against Obi-Wan's
for the first time, raising the smaller form smoothly upward as the
heat finally erupted into a liquid surge between them.
The shivers of orgasm faded and Obi-Wan slowly resurfaced into
awareness. His cheek was still resting on Qui-Gon's chest and he
could hear the throbbing of the older man's heart. He shifted so his
hand was resting next to his face and felt as it slowed to a more
reasonable pulse. Thought seemed far too difficult for the moment
and he closed his eyes again, sighing deeply as he idly toyed with
the soft curls beneath his hand.
A light touch on his back made Obi-Wan jump slightly but he relaxed
when he realized it was his master's hand. Very lightly, warm
fingertips traced soothing patterns along his back and Obi-Wan found
himself suddenly blinking back tears. If he had ever imagined being
with Qui-Gon, it had never been like this, him having to comforting
his master from such unwarranted torture. It wasn't fair, not to
Qui-Gon, not to him and for just a moment Obi-Wan allowed himself a
rush of burning resentment for all that the Cheig had taken from
them both.
He could feel the burns on Qui-Gon's chest beneath his questing
fingertips and the tears that were stinging his eyes finally
escaped, dropping from his cheeks to dampen Qui-Gon's skin. The
light touch on his back suddenly tightened into a fierce embrace and
Obi-Wan clung to his master willingly, giving control back to the
older man as their roles shifted again, back to a more familiar
sense of master and padawan.
Qui-Gon was murmuring nonsense words of comfort and apology, rocking
gently and Obi-Wan snuggled into the known safety of his master's
embrace. Selfish, immature of him, maybe, but he wanted, needed it
so much, for just a moment, just one short moment...
The sound of the door sliding open startled them and the guards
strode into the room and halted abruptly, their shock almost
palatable as they took in the scene before them. Obi-Wan peeked out
from under Qui-Gon's arm to see the guard who had given him the jar
of ointment staring at them, the disgust mingling with anger on his
face making Obi-Wan recoil. Their revulsion confused Obi-Wan,
certainly the Cheig had never had a problem with same sex
relationships, why would they be...he closed his eyes helplessly as
the answer came to him.
A child. They wouldn't torture him because they saw him as a child.
And they thought that Qui-Gon...the rising anger he could feel in
the guards told him of the grievous mistake he had made, and who was
going to suffer for it.
Protest rose in him, and he wanted to explain, to tell them he
wasn't a child, that this was his fault, his idea and only a sharp
look from his master silenced him.
One of the guards finally shook away his surprise and stepped
forward. "Get up," he ordered curtly and for the first time, he
removed the stunner from his belt, pointing it at the Jedi master.
Qui-Gon did, slowly, pausing briefly to cover Obi-Wan neatly with
one of the blankets, shielding his nudity from the guard's eyes and
that small gesture of concern had Obi-Wan biting his lip against
protests that were trying to escape. He dimly tasted blood as he
watched Qui-Gon rise and, with calm dignity despite the situation,
he pulled his trousers on.
He barely had time to fasten them before the guards dragged him out,
prodding him viciously with their stunners. The door shut behind
them, sealing Obi-Wan in with his panicked thoughts.
Nothing he could do, nothing, and he should have known better,
should have known...a sudden scream startled Obi-Wan from his
chaotic thoughts. It continued, trailing off hoarsely, only to begin
again and Obi-Wan could do nothing but listen in numb shock.
Again, screaming and nausea rose suddenly up from the boy's stomach.
Obi-Wan only just made it to the sanitary before he vomited,
painfully, until he was reduced to dry heaves. Sliding to the floor,
he covered his ears against the rising screams, tears streaming down
his face as he listened to his master being tortured again, but this
time because of him.
******
It took nearly an entire standard hour for the screams to finally
fade, becoming weaker until Obi-Wan could no longer hear them and
although he'd been praying silently to whatever gods that might be
listening for them to stop, the moment they did he wished they
hadn't for at least if he could hear Qui-Gon, he knew his master
still lived.
The silence was agonizing, the screams in his head louder for their
absence in his ears and Obi-Wan curled tighter into the blanket he
had managed to wrap around himself. He filled the silence with his
own voice, chanting softly under his breath a child's rhyme that he
had learned years before he had ever dreamed of being a Jedi.
"Walk the path of good and light, and never shall you fear the
night," he whispered, knowing the words to be a lie, like most
things taught to children, because he was afraid, so very afraid,
not for himself but for what he had done. The rhyme couldn't drown
out the screams in his head. Instead it echoed along with them, lies
that he had been taught his entire life. "But those who would to
darkness turn, will always get what they have earned."
And what did beings of the light earn, but pain? Pain and pain,
nothing but pain and blood, and perhaps death, with silence now more
terrifying than screams. He squeezed his eyes shut tighter, they
ached already from the pressure and he ignored it. No. This pain he
had earned himself by his thoughtless actions. He'd only been trying
to help, a part of him whispered, trying to soothe. He didn't allow
it, wanting no peace for himself when Qui-Gon had only suffering.
The sound of the door opening sent him scrambling backwards into the
wall, the blanket clutched around him like a shield against the
intruders. Three guards instead of the usual two and Obi-Wan cringed
away as he watched them physically carry his master into the room,
dropping him with little care onto the hard mattress.
It was difficult to understand how so much damage could be done with
so little evidence. Only two red patches marred his master's skin,
at his temples, but the small marks spoke instantly of what kind of
agony Qui-Gon must have suffered through. Muscles twitched like
living creatures beneath Qui-Gon's skin and his breathing was thick
and hoarse, from screaming certainly, from the helpless tears that
Obi-Wan could see on Qui-Gon's cheeks before the loose tangle of his
hair fell forward and concealed his face.
One of the guards, the one from before, sent Obi-Wan a sympathetic
glance and came towards him but he reeled back instantly at the hate
in the boy's eyes as he glared at them. He cast an uncertain glance
at the Jedi master and then back at Obi-Wan, obviously weighing the
options mentally before he backed away silently, leaving the two
Jedi alone once more.
For the first time since he had been gifted with the title of
padawan, Obi-Wan was afraid to go to his master. Not of the man
himself, but of seeing what had been done to him, and Obi-Wan had to
force his reluctant limbs to move, crawling across the cold floor to
broken man curled up on the mattress.
He reached out, wanting to touch but his hand paused midway,
hovering uncertainly over Qui-Gon's bowed shoulder. It was his
efforts at giving comfort before that had caused this, how could he
possibly think that anything he had to offer could be accepted now?
He sat in quiet misery, his hand still extended in useless
entreaty.
A hand curling firmly around his wrist caught Obi-Wan off-guard and
he lurched forward, finding himself abruptly rolled beneath his
master's large frame, startled protests swallowed by hard lips
against his own.
Wide-eyed, Obi-Wan lay very still, the bruising pressure of
Qui-Gon's mouth against his own shocking him to his very core. His
brain mechanically categorized the differing sensations, the
coarseness of Qui-Gon's beard against his cheeks, the wetness of a
tongue lashing against his lips, probing for entrance and
uncertainly, he opened his mouth.
Instantly, it took advantage of his lapse, forcing its way inside
past teeth to sweep over the softness of Obi-Wan's tongue roughly.
Not a kiss from his master, there was none of the gentle patience
that he associated with Qui-Gon. This was a stranger holding him,
harsh and brutal. He started to push on Qui-Gon's chest, weakly at
first and when nothing happened, harder, words of protest muffled by
Qui-Gon's lips as his hands were captured easily and pressed back
against the linens while he struggled beneath his master's much
larger form.
The hard length of Qui-Gon's erection was prodding into his stomach
and any rationality that Obi-Wan had left fled as he fought against
his master uselessly. Qui-Gon was so much stronger than him, in
everything. Their legs were tangled together and Obi-Wan's wrists
were caught in a painfully hard grip that he couldn't break. With a
last burst of strength, he wrenched his head sideways, breaking the
brutal kiss and tasting blood.
"Master!" It escaped him as a panicked cry, all his terror poured
into a single word and Qui-Gon froze. He lifted his head slowly and
the burning need in his expression melted into horror as he jerked
away, leaning back on his knees.
Still crouched over his padawan's shaking form, his shoulders rising
with his harsh breaths, Qui-Gon's mouth worked slowly, silently, as
his hands rose in a helpless gesture of placation. One hand hovered
briefly over Obi-Wan's face, trembling as the fingertips brushed his
lips and came away crimson with the sluggish trickle of blood
spilling from his split lip.
Qui-Gon was looking at the blood on his fingertips, eyes wide as he
stared at it before his gaze flicked back to the young man beneath
him. He threw himself backwards abruptly in as clumsy and graceless
a movement as Obi-Wan had ever seen in his master, until he slammed
into the wall. Curling into himself, Qui-Gon buried his hands in the
tangled length of his hair, clenching until the knuckles were
bone-white and bloodless.
Rocking back in forth, soft words poured from him in a hoarse
litany, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."
Running his tongue over the tiny cut, Obi-Wan absently tasted the
bitter metallic of blood as he stared mutely at the broken man who
was his master. He'd thought that Qui-Gon was a stranger to him like
this and he'd been right. Never, in his most horrifying nightmares
had he imagined his master brought to this. It hurt, a burning,
twisting pain in his stomach because this was Qui-Gon, his master,
and Obi-Wan knew with sudden agonizing certainty that he was not
going to survive this.
Qui-Gon was going to die. Qui-Gon, who had taken him when no one
else would; reluctantly, true, wary in the aftermath of the almost
unspeakable betrayal of another apprentice. But he had still managed
to open up to Obi-Wan, who had needed him so much.
Obi-Wan still needed him. He wasn't sure how to stop needing Qui-Gon
and it didn't matter because he was going to lose him anyway. The
next session would almost certainly kill him and it was partly Obi-Wan's
fault. All he could think of was things that there wasn't enough
time to say, things that would never be done, not with Qui-Gon and
tears that Obi-Wan couldn't stop were burning in his eyes. It didn't
matter what he had intended or that there was so much left unsaid
and undone and it didn't matter because no one cared but him.
Reaching out, he covered Qui-Gon's hands with his own, coaxing them
to relax. They lowered slowly, resting limply in Obi-Wan's grip.
Qui-Gon raised his head slowly and looked at Obi-Wan but this was no
Qui-Gon that he had ever known. Reddened eyes that no longer had the
strength to hide things from a vulnerable young padawan were filled
with torment at what he had almost done and what he had suffered
through.
"Mas...Qui-Gon," Obi-Wan began hesitantly. Honorifics hardly
mattered here, not now. "It's all right," he soothed, rubbing his
thumbs gently over the inside of Qui-Gon's wrists and he heard the
older man take a shuddering breath. "It's all right," he repeated,
"You just startled me."
Leaning up on his knees, Obi-Wan carefully pressed his lips against
his master's, ignoring the flash of pain from his cut lip. So little
time, and if this was all he could offer Qui-Gon, then he would. His
own life would not have been too much to give, but he doubted the
Cheig or his master would allow him to make that offer. This would
have to do.
Qui-Gon was going to die, and he was going to live, no matter the
agony that thought caused he could see the truth of it. These were
his last moments to see Qui-Gon alive, the damage had already been
done and there was nothing left for either of them to lose. There
would never be another time for this and Obi-Wan wanted to drown in
this one precious moment that could never come again.
Moving slowly, half afraid that Qui-Gon would flee again, Obi-Wan
shifted forward to straddled the older man's lap. He felt an almost
imperceptible shiver and carefully, still wary, he deepened the
kiss, exploring the heated depths of Qui-Gon's mouth. His master was
holding very still, stiff and unresponsive, and Obi-Wan coaxed as
best he could, teasing Qui-Gon's lax tongue with his own.
Nothing. It was like kissing a statue and just as frustrating. In
desperation he rocked his hips forward, pushing his own growing
erection against Qui-Gon's stomach. That earned him a startled gasp
and two hands suddenly clutched his hips firmly. Wrapping his legs
around Qui-Gon's waist, Obi-Wan clung to him like a vine and nibbled
gently at his lower lip.
The sudden giddy thought that he was a virgin trying to seduce the
man who had very nearly forced him only a few minutes ago almost
made him laugh, faint hysteria bordering his thoughts but Obi-Wan
pushed it aside and persisted. Still nothing and Obi-Wan was
starting to get desperate, this wasn't supposed to be so
difficult...
An abrupt rush of vertigo found him flat on his back with Qui-Gon
over him, kissing him with the feverish abandon of before but this
time Obi-Wan responded to the violent need of the embrace, tasting
blood again as the cut on his lip reopened. Large hands moved over
him frantically, sliding down to cup his backside, forcing him to
arch up and Obi-Wan moaned as his erection rubbed against Qui-Gon's,
even through the fabric of their trousers. Wrapping his legs around
Qui-Gon's calves, he pushed upward again, faint muffled whimpers
escaping him as Qui-Gon pressed down strongly just where he needed
it.
For one moment they strained together, hands clutching desperately
and ragged moans escaping them both, and then Qui-Gon pushed away,
ignoring Obi-Wan's cry of protest as he quickly stripped away his
trousers and then Obi-Wan's, jerking on the fabric so hard it ripped
in protest at the abuse. Naked, he lowered himself again, his breath
hissing out as bare skin finally touched bare skin.
This was so much different than the last time, Qui-Gon's weight
pressing heavily down on him, the softness of the mattress beneath
him and Obi-Wan could hardly breathe. He didn't care, sacrificing
more precious air to kiss his master again.
This was real, really real, really happening and a distant part of
Obi-Wan's mind was watching carefully, memorizing the feel of
Qui-Gon's skin against his own.
Qui-Gon. This was Qui-Gon, his master, touching him like this, and
he wanted it to never stop, touching and tasting frantically because
he couldn't quite forget that it would stop and there was nothing he
could do about it.
His beard scraped softly as Qui-Gon kissed his way down Obi-Wan's
throat to his chest, finding a peaked nipple and nibbling it
ungently. The sharp burst of pain was soothed instantly with the
velvet pressure of a tongue and Obi-Wan dug his fingers into
Qui-Gon's shoulders, uncertain of exactly what he wanted but knowing
he wanted more.
One of Qui-Gon's hands slipped from Obi-Wan's hip, sliding down the
curve of his backside and between the soft cheeks, probing lightly.
A single finger pressed firmly, sliding inward and Obi-Wan gasped
against Qui-Gon's lips, squirming a bit against the new and very odd
sensation of a finger inside him. It moved in and out slightly,
seemed to be searching and Obi-Wan couldn't hold back a gasp of
surprise when a sharp burst of pleasure came to him.
Hesitance fled as he pushed back against Qui-Gon's hand, seeking
more but it withdrew and Obi-Wan could dimly feel his master
reaching out with his free hand, scrabbling through the blankets,
looking for something but before Obi-Wan could even formulate the
words to ask, he seemed to find whatever it was.
The sound of a jar opening pulled him slightly from his haze, and he
looked up in confusion to see Qui-Gon dipping his fingers into the
healing ointment. Questions melted from his lips as Qui-Gon's hand
returned to his backside, his finger sliding in easily this time.
Odd and wonderful at the same time, and another finger joined the
first, moving and stretching and the occasional flare of something
that felt so good.
The fingers withdrew and Obi-Wan protested without thinking,
Qui-Gon's lips on his own muffling his complaints and large hands
lifted him, positioned him, the blunt pressure of Qui-Gon's erection
silencing him completely. It pressed urgently, seeking entrance and
Obi-Wan struggled slightly without thought, half-panicked and
uncertain as to if he really wanted this but it didn't seem to
matter if he was uncertain because it was happening -now-.
"Relax," Qui-Gon whispered hoarsely against his ear, the sound
nearly a sob. His hands slid under Obi-Wan's knees and pulled them
up, holding Obi-Wan open for the coming invasion despite his sudden
fear. "Relax, please. Just...just...oh, Gods!"
Obi-Wan whimpered at the sudden pain, he had seen Qui-Gon naked and
aroused several times now but his cock seemed to be far larger than
he recalled, forcing its way slowly into his resisting body. Every
time he thought it was finished, that Qui-Gon was finally fully
inside him, he would rock back a little and push further inside,
until Obi-Wan was certain that this would kill him, would rip his
aching flesh and he could taste salty wetness, tears trailing down
his face.
Soft lips brushed his cheeks, kissing away the wetness and Obi-Wan
rubbed his face against them, wanting, needing this comfort from his
master. Everything around them seemed to stop, there was nothing but
this, the connection between them as Qui-Gon began to move, just a
little, edging in and out until Obi-Wan began to breath again and
tightened his legs around his master's back.
A sudden hard thrust stole his breath and he dug his nails into
Qui-Gon's shoulders at a sudden jolt of pleasure. Right there, right
where he needed it and he arched up awkwardly, pinned by Qui-Gon's
weight against him. The thrusts were coming faster now, harder, as
harsh breaths blew against Obi-Wan's still damp cheeks, cooling
them. They turned into words, softly chanted against his skin.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Sorry...sorry...I'm so sorry..." Barely
gasped out, and Obi-Wan opened his eyes, looking at his master above
him. His face was taut with pleasure, eyes closed tightly as he
panted out a litany of apologies that were killing something in
Obi-Wan to hear.
No. Not like this. Not with regrets for the strangely wonderful
feelings that were boiling inside of him. He needed this, needed
Qui-Gon but words wouldn't come to his pleasure-blanked mind.
One word, one thing he could think to say and it escaped him in
little more than a sigh. "Yes..." Louder, again, moaned at a hard
thrust inside his body. "Yes...yes...please, yes." His own chant,
louder than Qui-Gon's as they surged together, sweat-slick skin
sliding as words evaporated into near screams, clutching each other
desperately as they froze in a tableau of ecstasy before collapsing
back to the bed, both shaking and tasting of sweat and tears.
*****
He looked different when he was sleeping.
It wasn't something Obi-Wan could really place. More relaxed,
perhaps. Less imposing. The lines of his face seemed to blur a
little, masking his true age and his exhaustion, and a lock of hair
had fallen forward, trailing over his cheek.
Sitting on the edge of the mattress, Obi-Wan watched his master
sleep. The slow rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, the soft
sighs whenever he shifted slightly. Reaching out, he tucked the
stray wisp of hair back behind Qui-Gon's ear so that he could see
him fully.
The older man shivered slightly and Obi-Wan pulled the blanket up,
tucking it around his master and he couldn't help a faint smile. Not
all that long ago Qui-Gon had done this for him, tucked him into bed
when he had been sick or injured. Protected him. Loved him.
He climbed to his feet and dressed quickly, as silently as he could,
and moved to sit quietly in front of the bed.
They weren't taking him again, not if Obi-Wan had any say in the
matter. Closing his eyes, he breathed deeply, calming and centering
himself. He had stayed out of this battle long enough, watching from
the sidelines as Qui-Gon fought a losing war and he wasn't about to
do it any longer. He accepted Qui-Gon's death, it was the way of the
Jedi to accept death, although he knew Qui-Gon would have preferred
the heat of battle to this cruel and inhumane treatment of the Cheig
and Obi-Wan admitted that he would have preferred it as well. For
all their differences, he and Qui-Gon were more alike than not.
He knew without asking that Qui-Gon had accepted the idea of is own
death. As Obi-Wan had accepted his own.
Qui-Gon would protest, he knew. Play the master until the very end
and expect Obi-Wan to honor his right to death, and if Qui-Gon
asked, Obi-Wan knew he would. So better that Qui-Gon slept on, in
the gentle, Force-induced slumber that his apprentice had woven
carefully around him, until Obi-Wan had his say with the Cheig
guards.
Perhaps it was time to see just how far their benevolence towards
children went.
***
He was still kneeling in light meditation when he felt them coming,
sooner than he had expected but perhaps that wasn't so surprising.
They probably didn't want to leave their prisoner alone with the
'child' any longer than they had to.
His hands curled into fists unconsciously, but Obi-Wan took a deep
breath, holding onto his calm. He needed to remain connected to the
Force if he wanted to have a chance of doing anything and he fully
intended to die before he let them take his master again.
The door slid open and everything he had intended to say died on his
lips as he stared mutely at the person who swept into their small
cell. It was a Cheig but instead of the guards uniform she was
clothed neatly in the familiar tan and brown robes of the Temples.
An unknown face but unmistakably a Jedi one. A Master Jedi, and he
straightened his spine reflexively, even as he stared.
She stepped further into the room and stopped in front of Obi-Wan
where he knelt. "You're Obi-Wan Kenobi," she said, a statement of
fact.
Wetting his lips, he managed a soft, "Yes."
She nodded slightly, one hand leaving the folds of her robe and
reaching for him. "Come with me. Quickly now, before they have
second thoughts."
He flinched away from her touch before he could stop himself, and
she halted, the composed Jedi demeanor softening slightly. A warm
wave of calm/comfort/safety floated to him through the Force,
offering, not invading, and he found himself relaxing almost against
his will to the familiar sense of the Force. He felt her kneeling in
front of him, her hands resting lightly on his shoulders and he
leaned into her, tears that he had been fighting for days
surfacing.
Rocking back and forth, he sobbed in the arms of a familiar stranger
on the cold floor of his once prison, while his master slept on
behind him.
****
Wrapped in a blanket, Obi-Wan curled up in the co-pilot's seat,
quietly sipping the cup of sweet tea that Master Sanyr had given
him. The soft blues and greens of the Cheigon planet dwindled away
before his eyes as they moved into hyperspace, leaving the horror of
the past few days behind them.
It was almost more than he could believe in this moment. Going from
the certainty of death to going home. Master Sanyr had held him
until he'd managed to calm down, and then they had both managed to
wake Qui-Gon enough to guide him to the ship. Settled him into
sickbay and took off as quickly as they could. Even with her level
of control, Obi-Wan could feel the agitation coming from the Jedi
Master, though it was abating now that they were leaving the
planet.
Clearing his throat slightly, Obi-Wan spoke, the first words he said
since she had asked him his name. "Master Sanyr?"
She didn't look up from the console. "Yes, Padawan Kenobi?"
Swallowing hard, he looked at the cup in his hands and took another
drink of the cooling liquid. "If...if I may ask, Master, how did
you...I mean..."
"How did I get you out?" She smiled thinly. "I may have left to
become a Jedi, but I still have some clout with my people.
I...persuaded...the Regent that it would be wiser to release you. I
do apologize for the length of time it took me to free you, though.
I hadn't expected it to take so long."
Blinking in confusion, he finally turned to look at her. "What do
you mean?"
She looked at him oddly. "I arrived yesterday morning. The guards
should have informed you."
For a moment Obi-Wan couldn't breath, caught between hysterical
laughter and tears as realization dawned with sickening feeling of
despair. None of it had been necessary. When the guards had come so
much sooner than they had expected it had probably been to tell them
she was there and that they would be released soon.
The irony was almost unbearable.
Master Sanyr fell silent for a moment as she set the autopilot
before she turned back to him. "You seem distressed, Padawan. Did
they hurt you? Do you need to go to the infirmary?"
He wondered distantly how he should seem. Sanyr acted as if she was
uncomfortable, oddly restless and he wondered too what she really
knew, if anything. "No. They saw me as a child and wouldn't...touch
me."
Her eyes dropped and he knew she was looking at the dark bruises
that circled his wrists but he refused to follow her gaze, keeping
his eyes steadily forward. Finally, she nodded and he stood up,
bowing to her hastily and fleeing before she could ask any of the
other questions he could see lingering in her eyes.
*****
There was something about the way a medical unit smelled. Always the
same, a faint chemical scent that made the stomach twist ever so
slightly as it was recognized. Obi-Wan had been in the infirmary of
dozens of planets and possibly another dozen on ships, and all of
them seemed to have that same vaguely unpleasant smell.
The soft hum of medical equipment was the only sound, except for his
heartbeat ringing painful loud in his ears. Hesitantly, Obi-Wan
stepped forward, eyes on the single couch in the room where Qui-Gon
was lying, asleep.
A part of him was almost gibbering with guilt and pain, in the back
of his head where he could still see the guards carrying Qui-Gon
back into their cell after...after the guards had seen them. Had
seen him, thinking that he was helping somehow and only making
matters worse.
The soft rustle of blankets shook him from his thoughts, and he
heard his master say softly, "Padawan? Come here to me?"
An unbidden flash of memory came to him at Qui-Gon's words and
Obi-Wan pushed it away, moving to sit at his master's side. He
closed his eyes, unable to look at the man who was his master with
guilt resting heavily inside him, twisting his stomach into nausea.
"Master, I..." he began, tears seeping from his tightly closed eyes.
A gentle finger pressed against his lips.
"Shh, don't." Leaving his lips, Qui-Gon traced the damp streaks his
tears had left on his cheeks. "Don't, please? Obi-Wan?"
He opened his eyes to see Qui-Gon watching him, a pained expression
on his face. "It's all right, my padawan. We're both safe and it
will be all right." He cupped Obi-Wan's cheek in his palm, his thumb
lightly stroking the boy's cheek. "I promise you, everything will be
fine."
Obi-Wan captured his master's hand in both of his own, pressing his
forehead against it and nodded. He wiped his tears away on his
sleeve, calming himself before the ones still hovering beneath the
surface could escape. Qui-Gon smiled faintly, still holding Obi-Wan's
hands as he drifted back to sleep.
Obi-Wan watched for a moment before gently letting Qui-Gon's hand
fall back down to the bed. He turned and started to leave,
hesitating as he recalled the questions that Master Sanyr would
certainly want to ask. Turning back, he crawled carefully up onto
the medi-bed and curled up against his master's side. Qui-Gon's arm
tightened around him automatically, and he rested his cheek on Obi-Wan's
head, a soft sigh rustling the boy's hair.
"Master?" A soft hushed whisper and when there was no response,
"Master, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Burrowing closer to the older
man's warmth, Obi-Wan closed his eyes.
"You don't have anything to be sorry for, Obi-Wan." Murmured against
the top of his head, startling Obi-Wan so much he nearly scrambled
backwards off the bed. Qui-Gon held him firmly for a moment, and
then lightened his grip so that Obi-Wan could pull away if he
wanted. Instead, he squirmed closer, burying his face into his
master's tunic, hiding the tears that wouldn't be stopped this time.
"Yes, I do," he choked out. "Master Sanyr told me that she arrived
yesterday, before we...before I...and if I hadn't...it's all my
fault, Master, I..."
"Stop," said Qui-Gon harshly, and Obi-Wan fell silent. This was it,
when Qui-Gon realized that his torture was indeed his padawan's
fault. He cringed into his master's tunics, knowing that whatever
Qui-Gon said or did was his due, for what his unthinking actions had
caused.
When Qui-Gon shifted beneath him, he released his master
reluctantly, bracing himself. Being pulled onto the older man's lap
and held tightly was unexpected but Obi-Wan clung to his master
gratefully, willing to take any punishment if Qui-Gon would only
hold him a little longer.
"Obi-Wan, none of this was your fault. None of it," he sighed,
rubbing his chin against Obi-Wan's cheek and the boy leaned into the
slightly scratchy, comforting sensation of his master's beard
against his skin. "I hadn't wanted to discuss this at this moment,"
he continued, "But I won't let you think that you were to blame for
this. Padawan, no one is to blame but the Cheig. All fault lies in
them, do you understand me?"
He swallowed hard, his cheeks wet but his mouth painfully dry. "Yes,
but if I hadn't..."
Qui-Gon shook him slightly. "No. None of that. You didn't hurt me,
Obi-Wan. Not at all. They are to blame, not you." He hesitated, and
Obi-Wan's growing belief that perhaps his master was right halted,
until Qui-Gon spoke again and his hushed whisper nearly stopped Obi-Wan's
heart. "You didn't hurt me, Obi-Wan, but I don't believe I can say
the same." A shaky, callused finger traced down the boy's soft
cheek. "Did I hurt you?"
There was so much pain and guilt vibrating in such simple words that
Obi-Wan's eyes stung again with tears, for his master, for both of
them and Force why couldn't he stop crying? He swiped viciously at
the tears with his sleeve. "No, of course not," he managed.
"Obi-Wan." A faint hint of familiar authority in Qui-Gon's voice,
demanding honesty, and underneath the command was something else,
begging for the truth.
"No," he insisted, the words stumbling from his lips. "You didn't
hurt me. I...I wanted it. I wanted you to...to be with me. Like
that. I didn't...I didn't want to not do it. Just in case you...just
in case. " It wasn't quite the truth, but close enough. He held his
breath, waiting, and finally Qui-Gon nodded a bit, still holding him
close.
"Master?" he dared, softly, and Qui-Gon made a questioning sound. He
tilted his head up so that he could see the older man's face,
wondering again at how very blue his eyes seemed when they were so
close. Impossibly blue, and he stared into them, fell into them as
he leaned upward and pressed his lips awkwardly to Qui-Gon's.
A sharp intake of breath, the large hands resting on his shoulders
tightening painfully for a moment, then relaxing. The delicate brush
of Qui-Gon's tongue against his lips made him shiver, and Obi-Wan
kissed him harder, parting his lips and allowing the velvet softness
of his master's tongue to delve inside, briefly, before Qui-Gon
pulled back with a heavy sigh, moving to rest his forehead against
Obi-Wan's.
"Can't go back," Qui-Gon was muttering, almost to himself, "We can't
be what we once were. That's all right, we'll be something else
instead." He nodded decisively, as if he'd just answered a question
and Obi-Wan didn't ask, still wrapped in warmth from the tenderness
of Qui-Gon's kiss, and now feeling his sleeplessness of the past few
days tugging him downward.
Qui-Gon laid back, taking Obi-Wan with him and tucking his smaller
body against his as he pulled the blanket over them both. Obi-Wan
sighed, a measure of peace within as he let the memories fade away
for the moment, drifting off in the safety of his master's arms and
the peace of dreamless sleep.
-finis--
Comments and questions to:
mailto:keelywolfe@gmail.com
Back