Warnings: None that I'm aware of...although I've been told that
bits of this are sad... ::wonders if thereís a warning
for THAT::
Spoilers: Yes, slightly, for TPM and the Jedi Apprentice book
series -- also diverges from canon and goes A/U (that...you
know...death thing...never happened here)
Summary: Sometimes only a Jedi can truly heal another Jedi...
Feedback: Well...if you like it, then yes, *please* respond!
This is my first piece of fan fiction ever. In any genre. If
you donít like it...well, then I never wrote this and
you never read it... : )
Disclaimers: With the exception of the unpredictable yet
charming Healer Turna, who is my own invention, we all know who
these characters belong to (Thank you, Mr. Lucas!). And
thereís no question as to whoís getting all the
credit, money, attention, etc. for these wonderful men. (Hint:
It's not me...) However, I *would* like to use them as props
for a few story-telling bouts....and maybe one or two other
things. Mr. Lucas, can Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon please come out to
play? Thank you!
Note: // indicates telepathy
Acknowledgements: Thank you to Keelywolfe, my first beta
volunteer, and to Esmerelda, Kat, Kaly, Holly, and Megan for
all of their beta work, nice comments, helpful hints, and
general cheerleading on the various parts of this. Thanks also
to Michelle, whose wonderful Q/O story, "Symbiont Circle"
(archived on the 'Master and Apprentice' site), inspired some
of the 'midichlorian ideas' in my fic.
"Noooooo!!!!"
Trapped behind yet another of the deadly force-fields, Obi-Wan
watched in horror as his master was run through by the Sith
Lord's double-bladed weapon. He could feel it burning, white
hot, in his own mid-section as clearly as if it were being done
to him.
Desperately, he sought his master's face. As he looked into the
eyes of his teacher, even at this distance, he could already
see glassy dullness overtaking the blue...those beautiful blue
eyes...eyes the color of a crystal clear lake...eyes Obi-Wan
had fallen into everyday for as long as he could remember.
Silently, he berated himself. There were so many things he
should have done. I should have been faster. Better. More
disciplined. He should have kept up with his master, his
mind told him. Should not have allowed himself to become
separated from the older man. But it was too late for that now.
Too late. Obi-Wan's face flushed and his blood pounded
in his ears with the shame of his actions. To his horror, he
felt the hotness of tears threatening behind his eyes. I
will NOT lose control!
Through the flickering energy fields, the Sith glared at him,
standing like a hunter over a successful kill. Standing where
Obi-Wan should have been...with the man who was the other half
of himself. All that he did, he did for his Master. All that he
was, he was for his Master. He knew no existence outside that
of his life with his master. And now...
His stomach lurched and the floor beneath him began to spin
dizzily as the all-too-real truth of the situation crashed down
around him. He lived for his master...would willingly die for
his master. But it had never occurred to him that his master
might die for him. Because of him... Together they could
have conquered the Darkness. He was certain of it.
Now...Obi-Wan choked back a sob even as he struggled to drive
the thought to the back of his mind.
He had done many things in his years as a padawan. Could it now
be that something he hadn't done would lead to his
master being taken from him? NO! But he knew with
certainty that if something happened, it would be his
fault, for not being at his master's side where he belonged.
//Obi-Wan.//
His master's voice filled his head, a quiet sound that held
such love and tenderness it threatened to bring Obi-Wan to his
knees.
//Master??//
Desperate for his master's guidance, he reached out mentally.
Tenuously, the young padawan's mind cast about, searching for
its reflection in the older Jedi master. To his dismay, it took
several attempts to find and grasp onto the signature that was
distinctly his teacher's, and then Obi-Wan blanched at what he
found.
Bits and pieces of his master's mind lay strewn about...thin
wisps of half-thoughts, partially-completed sentences. Their
bond, which had once been so strong, so vital...so
beautiful...was now nearly impossible for him to sense and its
essence was fading quickly.
//MASTER!!// The call came out as a desperate wail, a
mind-voice he hadn't used since he was four, with his foot
trapped in a grate at the bottom of the Academy pool.
//Listen carefully,// came his master's hushed tones. //Do not
worry about me.//
//But Master! You are injured! I must help you...//
//Do not think about me.// It was a calm command from Master to
Apprentice that left no room for interpretation.
Obi-Wan didn't know whether to be stunned at his Master's
uncharacteristic thought...or hurt. Did he believe that Obi-Wan
was not strong enough--or capable enough--to help him? Or was
it that his master believed he was not worth being helped?
Either avenue of thought made the apprentice's insides coil
into a tight ball.
He fell back on ritual. //Master, it is the duty of every
Padawan...//
//Listen to me!// From the normally reserved Qui-Gon, it was
almost a mental shout. //Time grows short.//
Obi-Wan outwardly flinched at the reprimand. The words stung.
He didn't know whether Qui-Gon referred to the time left before
the force-field would cycle open again, or the time left before
Qui-Gon's life ended, but the latter was too horrible to
contemplate. His master would survive. He had to
survive. Obi-Wan would be broken, incomplete without him.
// This must end here, Obi-Wan. You must defeat him. He cannot
be allowed to leave this place. Of that I am certain.//
Obi-Wan's eyes grew wide at his master's words. His master
did think him capable... But if Qui-Gon could not defeat
the evil Lord alone, how could HE?
//You must...// Qui-Gon was tiring. His mind voice faltered as
he concentrated on blocking the pain and continuing to breathe.
//...you must allow the...Force to...guide you, my Obi-Wan. Do
not kill in anger, but in defense...of this place...of these
people. A Jedi must protect...those who cannot protect
themselves...//
A sudden, searing pain ripped through Obi-Wan's chest, and he
knew it was not his own.
Qui-Gon had little strength left to fight against the pain, but
it hardly mattered. Sharp needles of it lanced through him,
causing him to arc off the floor, helpless in its grasp, but he
knew they would soon lessen. He was almost beyond it. His body
was becoming more numb to it by the second and it was almost a
blessing.
Obi-Wan struggled to listen to his master. He found himself
straining to breathe for the older man, projecting a calming
Force to sustain the life-energy that so quickly ebbed from
him. His heart thudded in his chest. He knew Qui-Gon was near
death and the thought was enough to emotionally shatter him.
There is no emotion. There is peace.
He knew not where the thought came from, but it was enough to
provide him with a center. If he was to defeat the Sith and
save his master, he would need full concentration. One part of
his mind reeled at the consequences of losing this battle, but
the other half shut out the thoughts and began preparing for
what he would face.
//Your focus...determines your reality, Padawan...I see that
you are remembering your lessons.//
Obi-Wan heard the pride behind his master's words, took an
un-Jedi-like pride in being his master's padawan, but could not
do more than let it all wash over him. His mind was elsewhere.
That which had seemed like an hour, but was perhaps only a
minute, had passed. The field cycle had completed itself, and
Obi-Wan was once again free to move.
In one explosive movement, Obi-Wan erupted from behind the
now-invisible barricade, Padawan braid flying behind him,
lightsaber held high in front of him. And inasmuch as he
thought he was ready to do what was expected of him, it took
all of his self-discipline not to run to his master and throw
himself down at his side. No he told himself. There
would be time for that later. Right now was the time to make
certain that there WAS a later.
Block. Kick. Spin. Flip.
Kick. Block. Turn. Step.
He grew weary with the effort it took to continue against the
Sith. Sweat stung his eyes and his muscles burned fiercely with
over-use. Wishing that the ache in his side would disappear, he
could barely resist doubling over and allowing the pain of it
to take him. It would be so much easier than the alternative.
But the Dark Lord continued, unrelenting, determined to strike
down both the master and his apprentice, and so the apprentice
continued as well, knowing that he could not possibly allow
that to happen.
Obi-Wan had been tired and desperate in the heat of battle many
times before, and he tried to think only of how he had
prevailed in those instances. But in every memory his exhausted
mind could dredge up, he saw a much younger version of himself,
in which he was more energetic and resilient than he was at
this moment.
Almost fondly, he recalled fighting on Bandomeer, against the
huge and powerful draigons. He remembered the soul-satisfying
feeling of fighting at his master's side toward the common goal
of saving the people of the planet. There he'd fought
endlessly, until he was far past mental and physical
exhaustion, with thoughts of nothing but the draigons, the end
results...and of pleasing a man who was not yet his master.
Obi-Wan's train of thought somehow calmed him. He found himself
with enough energy to pull the Force about his bone-weary form,
wearing the Light like a cloak, feeling it shine so powerfully
he could almost see it glowing around him. With a concentrated
effort, he allowed his movements to come to him automatically,
naturally. He reached out with the Force and let it do the work
for him, just as his master had taught him to do so many times
in their practices.
In a barely-silenced cry, Qui-Gon fought against a surge of
pain. Immediately, he felt his apprentice's reaction to it.
They were sensitive to each other, even moreso as of late,
which Qui-Gon now found himself regretting. He felt the other
man cringe in pain as the Sith Lord's 'saber made contact.
Obi-Wan yelped. Heat slashed through his arm as the Sith landed
a burning blow to his shoulder. The smell of burning material
and scorched skin filled the air around him.
Qui-Gon!
Of its own accord, Obi-Wan's soul cried out for its other half,
as if it had a life of its own. And perhaps it did. A
Master/Apprentice bond was not easily broken...a mind-bond even
moreso. He could also sense... something...something else...but
could not put a name to it. Something...
You must not allow yourself to become tired and careless,
Obi-Wan His master's teaching words came back to him.
That is exactly what an opponent will be looking for, to
gain victory
He was being careless! All outside thought ceased as his
mind came back to itself and he found himself looking up into
the snarling face of evil itself.
A very small part of Obi-Wan wanted to despise this red and
black devil-incarnate. Wanted to unleash every bit of blackness
he could call to hand, and incinerate the demon who taunted
him. But that was not the Jedi way...was not his way...
He must not hate. He would not hate. He would protect. Protect
the planet. Protect the Queen. Protect her people. Protect his
master.
Dragging several shallow breaths into already-ravaged lungs, he
began his attack anew. They were perilously close to the edge
of the walkway now, and Obi-Wan knew this was not the place to
break concentration. He re-doubled his efforts, his graceful
dance becoming even more complicated as he attempted to
out-maneuver the Sith.
Grasping what he could of the Force, Qui-Gon wrapped it around
himself, wishing only to die inside it, if that was the Will.
His eyes, no longer seeing, remained open nonetheless, turned
in the direction of his beloved. He could feel the young man's
strength waning, and spared what energy he could to send stray
tendrils of the Force toward his padawan.
He could not be the source of Obi-Wan's distraction. He mustn't
be. Summoning the rest of his strength, the master began to
systematically shut down his links to his padawan. First the
master/apprentice link. Then the newly-formed bonding link.
Finally, the barely-there life-bond ...which not even Obi-Wan
was aware of yet. It saddened him to do it, but he knew he
must. There could be nothing to take Obi-Wan's mind off his
task...
In reaction to his other efforts, Qui-Gon's body began to shut
itself down as well. His breathing slowed until it was an
invisible movement beneath his chest. Sound faded away and
eyelids closed over already unseeing eyes.
Suddenly, amidst the thrusts and spins, something changed. For
a split-second, Obi-Wan froze in reaction to it, mis-stepping
in his intricate footwork and nearly failing to avoid the
other's weapon. Before he had time to consciously think about
it, his training took over and he found himself leaping, feet
clearing the floor and the red hot light of the other's saber.
But his full concentration was no longer on the fight. The bond
that he shared with his master...the bond he had known for half
his life...had closed down. To Obi-Wan it meant only one thing.
His master was dead.
Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to
suffering.
In a move that was a credit to all of his master's teachings,
Obi-Wan took all that he was feeling and allowed it to flow
away from him in great, hurtful rivers. To hesitate now would
be to die...and he wouldn't allow the Sith the pleasure of
taking both of them. There was only the here and now and he had
a job to do. He would honor his master's wishes and rid this
place of the monstrous evil that threatened to overcome it. But
afterwards...
Obi-Wan threw as many mental shields up as he could manage. It
hurt too much to think about living his life alone...a life
without his master, the Light of his life.
A tear slid from the corner of one closed eye, slipping
silently down the Jedi Master's cheek as he sensed his
Padawan's deep despair. Obi-Wan! The young man had
provided him with more love and joy than he had ever known. He
knew his death would adversely affect the young man; the
severing of their bonds would be difficult for him. But pain
and sadness and loss could be overcome.
Setting his regrets aside, Qui-Gon allowed his essence to
drift, unimpeded now, into the open arms of the Force, knowing
that he had trained his Padawan well and that, barring any
unknowns, his apprentice would carry on, undeterred, to
victory.
As the Sith's severed body fell backwards into the melting pit,
Obi-Wan could feel only relief. As he turned back toward his
master's fallen form, however, he was hit with myriad emotions
that caused him to gasp and stagger under their weight.
Stumbling, he made his way to the body.
Master!
Falling to his knees beside his teacher, he gently touched a
now-pallid cheek, placed a hand on the now-still chest.
//MASTER!//
There was no movement; no reply. Barely breathing himself,
Obi-Wan Kenobi lifted his master's head and shoulders, holding
him with the tenderness of a student bonded to one's
master...cradling him with the passion of a soul-mate bonded to
one's lover. One last time, he allowed his fingers to brush
through the flowing brown mane. Leaning down, he placed his
lips upon the lips of his teacher...his friend...his love...his
Light...and he sobbed.
Master Windu's dark frame cast an overly-large shadow across
the too-small room. Back rigid, arms tucked deep into his
sleeves like the proper Jedi, he stood in the doorway,
listening. Neither all the way in nor all the way out of the
tiny cubicle, he cocked his head and listened...for a flutter,
a breath, a sigh. Anything that would indicate a spark of life.
When nothing was forthcoming, he moved soundlessly toward the
solitary piece of furniture in the otherwise empty room. As he
knelt beside the sickbed he towered over its pale occupant,
even at his folded height. Running long fingers over tired
eyes, he drew in a calming breath, which did not help in the
least.
"Where are you, my friend?" he mourned aloud, eyes on the
white-shrouded man before him. Windu's voice, deep on any
occasion, echoed melodiously off the bare walls. At an earlier
time in their lives and relationship, Mace knew that Qui-Gon
would have found that particular sound erotic.
"I refuse to believe we've brought you this far, only to lose
you," he said into the emptiness, determined to stay focussed
on the present, instead of reliving the past.
His lament went unanswered, as he knew it would. The healers
had done all they could, but were still unsure as to whether
Qui-Gon would live or die. The physical damage had been
extensive and the mental damage... Just the thought of it
brought an uninvited shudder to Mace's stiff shoulders and
re-filled him with a grief not even hours of solitary
meditation had managed to assuage.
Laying a gentle hand on his once-lover's chest, he had a sudden
urge to see for himself that the other Jedi still lived,
breathed. It was disturbing to see him this close to death. And
although Mace had seen the other man through danger and
sickness and injury as the two of them had grown up and trained
together at the Academy, this was different. Qui-Gon had so
much to live for now. An apprentice, who had grown into so much
more...a little boy who already admired him and looked up to
him.
It still hurt to think of the last time he had seen Qui-Gon. It
had been on less-than-friendly terms, with Qui-Gon speaking
against the Council...again. With Mace arguing for keeping
their attention on the present and Qui-Gon arguing for what the
boy might mean for the future, the victory of finally
convincing the stubborn Master to finish the current mission
had been an empty one. And Qui-Gon had gone away to serve the
Council, with his side of things still unsettled and uncertain.
"He saved you, you know," the larger Jedi told the unconscious
man, bringing himself back, once again, to the present. "Anakin
saved you both."
Shifting his weight so that it was spread more evenly over
knees that protested the hard flooring, Master Windu rearranged
his cloak about him. He wondered, fleetingly, where Qui-Gon's
had gotten to, reminded himself to ask around. A Jedi should
have his cloak, and its presence here might serve as a tie to
the present for the injured man.
Out of habit, Windu touched Qui-Gon. It felt right to have that
contact, and somehow helped to close the gap he felt forming
between Qui-Gon and everyone in the outside, conscious world.
He would not attempt mental contact yet, heeding the healers'
precautions, but physical contact he would deny neither himself
or the other Jedi.
One dark hand, beginning its movement by brushing a stray lock
of brown hair away from Qui-Gon's face, ended up coming to rest
on the other Master's shoulder. Fingers tenderly massaged soft
skin, visible where the white med-robe fell back at the
shoulders, and ran along the too-harsh outline of a collarbone
which suggested too many days of not enough sustenance.
Quietly, Mace began to speak again.
"He saved a lot of lives that day. Did you know that? The
people of Naboo, the Gungans. No one knows why he did what he
did, not even Anakin himself, I think. It might have been sheer
luck...or he may have been led by the Force. We may never know.
But I know you, and I know that you believe there is nothing
which happens by accident; nothing which happens without
reason.
"I'm not sure if I believe Anakin is the Chosen One, but
perhaps he was chosen for the path he's followed thus
far. All started by you, Qui-Gon, freeing one slave. And so
perhaps that was the will of the Force as well. For you to help
him...and then for him to turn around and help you. Because
without his connection to you, Qui-Gon, without the attachment
he formed in the short time he was with you, I'm afraid we
would have lost both you and Obi-Wan."
The series of events was still so hard to imagine. A small boy,
in whom no one needed to trust, managing to fire the one shot
that could stop a war. Then, returning to Naboo, that same
small boy insisting that something was not right. Insisting
that the Queen send someone to an obscure, out-of-the-way
location near the city's energy source, where no one would
ever have thought to look. And Force save the Queen for
listening when others might have turned a deaf ear.
The two Jedi had been missed, yes, but it had been assumed they
were off together, somewhere, safe after the end of the battle.
When they were found in the place that young Anakin had
foreseen, Obi-Wan had been slumped, unconscious, over his
equally unconscious and gravely injured Master. Left without
medical attention for another day or two...or even another hour
or two...their lives would have been ended just as surely as if
the Sith had killed them with his own bare hands.
"Qui-Gon!" Mace murmured, unable to keep the pain from his
voice as the all-too-vivid scenes, seen through Anakin's eyes,
played themselves out in his head...again. With a final touch
to the Jedi Master's cheek, he stood up, feeling too big in the
little room. Annoyed at his own distractibility this day, he
took a moment to gather his stray thoughts, stretching out his
back and limbs like a large feline.
Transported to the Queen's medical facilities, the two men had
been looked after, and the Jedi council had been contacted.
Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan had been given the best treatment
available, but it was not enough.
The Naboo medics had managed to keep the Jedi Master alive and
to partially heal his wounds, but they could never have known
that perhaps the greatest wound of all was a mind full of
half-severed ties to his Padawan and a conscious decision to
cease to exist. And in Obi-Wan they could find nothing wrong at
all, save for some cuts and bruises and what they claimed to be
physical exhaustion. But, then, they had no way of recognizing
the signs of psychic shock in a bonded Jedi.
While not ungrateful for the assistance, the Jedi council and
healers on Coruscant had had their work cut out for them in the
days that followed. The external wounds, Qui-Gon's in
particular, were difficult in and of themselves to heal. But
the internal wounds, the wounds of the mind were proving
a challenge, even for the Jedi-trained.
The two men had been through the equivalent of psychic hell.
Both believed the other dead. Neither had the mental means to
contact the other. Each needed the other's support to
maintain/rebuild the multitude of broken links and severed
mental pathways. But neither could help the other...and each
was suffering greatly.
"The Queen's people did a commendable job treating your wounds,
and those of your padawan," Mace continued, looking out of the
window into the bright sunshine. "But it wasn't the same as
having you here on Coruscant. Sometimes only Jedi healers know
exactly what is needed to help another Jedi...and it is that
delay of help which I fear most of all in this."
"Know, you do, where fear leads," came a voice from the
doorway.
Master Windu turned, blinking several times to readjust his
eyes to the normal room lighting, which seemed dark after
staring out into the brightness of the day.
"Yes, Master Yoda," Mace replied dutifully, feeling all of ten
years old again. "My apologies. I should have phrased that a
bit more carefully. I am merely...concerned...for Qui-Gon and
wanted to express that concern to him."
"Yes, yes," Yoda said with a nod. "Concerned are you. Concerned
are we all."
Cane tapping the floor with each step, the old Master walked to
Qui-Gon's side. Shoulders hunched, brow creased even more than
usual, Yoda laid hands on the wounded Jedi. Muttering to
himself, his green fingers skimmed a cheek, an arm, chest,
forehead.
Eventually joining Mace at the window, Yoda didn't even bother
to look up at the giant of a man as he spoke.
"Got them to Coruscant as quickly as possible, we did," he
reminded the younger man. "And who is to say that sooner would
have been better? Decides many things, the Force does. Works in
mysterious ways, the Force does. Predict what will happen, most
of us cannot. Second guess ourselves and our actions, we should
not."
Now Mace did look down, and found the small Jedi Master looking
up. "I just don't want our efforts...their efforts...to
have been in vain. Qui-Gon Jinn deserves better than this kind
of ending."
He could just imagine Yoda's reply. "Trust in the Force, we
must. Know what our futures should be, we do not. Who of us can
say what we do and do not deserve?"
But instead, the small Master said only, "Tired you are. Go.
Rest. Check to see that settling in to his new quarters here
young Skywalker is. Stay with Qui-Gon, I will." And then Mace
was being favored with the all-knowing look that was so
entirely Master Yoda.
Torn between not wanting to leave his former lover's side and
knowing that Master Yoda was wanting to spend time with his
former Padawan, Mace gave in. With a last look at the still,
silent, prone figure, and a thought to Qui-Gon to come back to
them, Master Windu made his way slowly out of the room and down
the corridor, searching out a hot meal, meditation, and clean
clothes...not necessarily in that order.
Jedi Healer Miro Turna studied the distraught figure that was
Obi-Wan Kenobi. Lying first on his back...then on his
side...and again on his back, the young man tossed and turned
almost continuously, never still. Mumbling and moaning, the
distressed Padawan clenched and unclenched clammy,
white-knuckled hands in the now-rumpled bed-sheets.
From her seat at his side, the healer reached out, laying a
trained hand along a flushed cheek, a heated forehead. Despite
her attempts to calm him with the Force and to cool him with
damp cloths and towels, the young Jedi flailed in his sleep,
sweat beading on his smooth face, sleep-clothes soaked through.
Not for the first time, the woman sighed.
As Master Yoda entered the room, he took in the twisting,
troubled form of the young Padawan.
"Any improvement do you see in him?" he asked, moving closer to
the healer and her patient. If Qui-Gon was a picture of
troubled tranquility, his counterpart was uncontrolled movement
unleashed. The Apprentice fought his demons physically, while
the Master's battle was internal.
"Not unless you count the fact that his temperature hasn't
spiked high enough to send him into convulsions or a coma yet,"
the red-haired woman retorted.
She wasn't generally one for back-talking the Masters, but the
boy had her worried. Turning her head, she went back to
monitoring her patient before she said something else she'd
regret.
"No improvement either is there in his Master," the small alien
commented. "Hours have I just spent, sitting with him. Sitting.
Sitting. Nothing more. As if there is nothing left, it is. An
empty shell, has he become."
He seemed to be waiting for Healer Turna to reply, but she had
nothing to say that would not get her into trouble.
"Help us to find Qui-Gon Jinn, his life-mate can," Yoda said.
"Help us to find Qui-Gon Jinn, his life-mate CANNOT!" Miro
Turna exploded from her chair and faced the old Master. "For
Force sake! Obi-Wan can't even find HIMSELF!"
Master Yoda nodded. "Mmmm, yes," he said, his forehead
wrinkling. "Meant to be together they were. Not meant to be
apart, alone."
"It could also be said," Miro countered, "That Qui-Gon should
be the one to help us locate his life-mate."
Yoda's ears folded down at the sad irony of it. "Mmmm, true it
'tis." He took one last look at the apprentice on the bed.
"Need help they both do. Need each other they both do. Heal
each other, only they can. And so the problem you see."
Gathering his cane, the small Master made his way out of the
room, still hmming to himself.
And had he not turned the corner, moments later, heading for
Council chambers, Master Yoda would have heard Healer Turna
frantically signaling for the medics as the young Obi-Wan lost
what little control he'd had and went completely over the edge,
his thin frame convulsing violently.
The Padawan's body lifted up and slammed back against the bed
in sickening rhythm. Knowing the other healers were on their
way, Healer Turna did what she could to stay the young man's
movements. In his current state, he could little-afford to
injure himself or re-open recently healed wounds.
One knee on the bed, she held Obi-Wan's shoulders with her
small hands, closing her eyes as the wild onslaught of his
emotions battered against her shields. Centering her thoughts
on the undulating body beneath her, she concentrated on calming
the young apprentice's mind and convincing his body that it
need not do this.
It would have been easier to wrestle a wookiee. If the
situation had not been so grim, the Jedi healer might have
laughed. She imagined she was quite a sight at that moment, red
curls springing in every direction, her slight build no
possible match for the fighting figure of the trained and
muscled Padawan. Feeling very much like a small, capsized boat
in the middle of a great, storm-tossed sea, Myro Turna held on.
Never one to give up, she allowed the Force to surround her
like so many billowing sails, fervently willing some part of
Obi-Wan's tortured mind to grasp the rescue buoy she was
offering him.
She was saved further humiliation by the arrival of the first
set of healers, who rushed to the bedside to assist. They were
followed by three others who hurried in, concerned looks upon
their faces.
"It's about time!" Myro exclaimed breathlessly, as two larger
Jedi took over for her at Obi-Wan's shoulders. "What did you
do? Fly in from Corellia?"
"We came immediately upon your call, Healer Turna," came the
reply from a younger healer-in-training. "Not more than half a
minute ago..."
Myro looked at the girl, trying to ascertain whether she was
being impudent or merely truthful. The child's eyes, big as
dinner plates as she watched the healers attend the other
Padawan, told her it was the latter. She spared a second to
flash the young woman a tight half-smile of approval, before
joining the others around the bed.
"My apologies," Myro said aloud to anyone she'd offended.
"Obi-Wan is in grave danger and patience is not one of
my virtues."
Six sets of hands lay upon Obi-Wan Kenobi. Upon forehead,
chest, shoulders, arms, face, twelve Healer-trained,
Jedi-trained hands communicated peace, healing, well-being. The
Force was a palpable thing, filling every corner of the room
with an almost electrical current.
The combined strength of the healers would have moved a small
mountain, if necessary...and yet it had little impact on the
lone figure at their focus. Minutes ticked by as the apprentice
was forcibly held down, urged to release his fear and
uncertainty and pain to those trained to deal with it; coaxed
back to the world of the living by quiet voices, gentle minds,
soothing motions.
Suddenly, as if a switch had been flipped, the convulsing
stopped. Harsh breathing rattled in dry lungs. Above pallid
cheeks, paper-thin eyelids lifted, revealing shockingly green
eyes. They blinked once. Twice. Horror flooded into them at the
site of so many bodies surrounding him. As quickly as they'd
opened, the eyes rolled back, revealing only the ghostly
whites. Almost immediately, lips and mouth took on a blue
tinge, and with one last horrific arch that threatened to snap
the young Padawan's spine, his body fell limp and unmoving,
into the hands of six helpless Jedi healers.
It didn't take Jedi senses to know that the young apprentice
was in trouble. The Force presence in the room increased
exponentially as each healer lent their strength to bring the
young Padawan back. But even as they fought to revive him, it
seemed as though Obi-Wan fought against it. His breathing had
stopped and his heart would not be far behind.
"Great sadness I sense in this one."
Yoda appeared at the door, Mace Windu behind him.
"Without the other half of himself, lost he feels. No longer
wishes to live, does he."
Had they not been trained Jedi healers, a gasp would have gone
up. It was almost inconceivable that a gifted, young Padawan
such as Obi-Wan would willingly choose death, for any reason.
"Ah, yes," Yoda said as he approached them. "But have a soul
bond and the beginnings of a life bond with their
masters, most Padawans do not," he said knowingly.
This time there were murmurs.
Yoda motioned for the tall dark-skinned Jedi to join him, and
waved all of the others off.
"Leave us, you must," he said, sounding very heavy-hearted.
"Alone with the boy we must be. Disturb us you must not."
Dutifully, without comment or complaint, the healers filed
silently out, leaving Mace and Yoda to themselves.
Wasting no time, Mace quickly pulled back the sheet that
covered the boy. Unceremoniously, he grasped Obi-Wan's sleep
shirt and tore....ripping it cleanly down the middle. Kneeling,
he placed large, dark hands on the Padawan's chest, over his
heart, offering his own strength to keep the muscle
functioning. Attuning himself to the now-steadying beat, he
worked on brain function, nervous system, lungs, and soon had
the boy breathing again...although it was Mace who did the
breathing for him. Connected nervous system to nervous system,
the Force would allow him to draw breath for Obi-Wan until the
boy could be convinced to do it for himself.
Sensing that Mace had been successful in his resuscitation,
Yoda settled both of his hands on the young apprentice's
forehead, setting to work at rebuilding Obi-Wan's collapsed
mind.
Through Obi-Wan's eyes, the aged Master saw and felt it all.
The fight with the Sith...Qui-Gon's impalement...Obi-Wan's
anguish as he felt his master withdrawing from his mind...his
exquisite pain as the links to their bonds were disrupted,
extinguished one by one. Such trauma for one so young!
Yoda explored the ruined pathways, mending them with care and
patience. He soothed rips and tears in the damaged mental
framework with soft mind whisperings the likes of which only
cherished padawans such as Qui-Gon Jinn had ever experienced
from him. The Force shown bright about him as he attempted to
save the life of one who could help save the life of another.
Hours passed and strong as he was in the Force, Mace Windu
found himself slowly tiring. Lending his life energy to the
boy, though it allowed Yoda to continue his work, was
exhausting. Concentrating his efforts, he put everything he had
left into sustaining Obi-Wan, hoping it would be enough to let
Yoda find what he sought.
//With you I am, young Padawan.//
Six and a half hours after his first contact with the boy, Yoda
finally dared to reach out to him with his mind voice.
//As I was once a voice within your master's mind, so am I now
a voice in yours.//
Yoda wanted the apprentice to feel safe. He wanted Obi-Wan to
trust him enough to allow the help he so desperately needed,
and hoped that thinking of him as his master's Master might
steer them into familiar territory.
But again, as in the past several days, the mere mention of
Qui-Gon threw the Padawan into fits. His thoughts turned to
abandonment, being stranded in his own mind with no one to save
him. No Master, who had always been there for him, loving him,
catching him when he stumbled or fell. No soul mate who had
believed in what they had become, who cared enough to want to
bond himself heart and soul to a mere apprentice...
Muscles tightening, jaw locked, heart racing, Obi-Wan searched
desperately, blindly, for a way to end the pain...a way to end
it all. But his time Yoda would not allow it.
Bearing hope that his words would spark that which every
apprentice feels--an obedience to assist and serve one's
Master--Yoda held nothing back. They had been cautious since
his return to Coruscant not to attempt mental contact or make
mention of what had taken place on Naboo. But now was not the
time for protection. Now was the time for truth.
//Alive your master is, young one.// Yoda's mind told the
other's. //Alive he is, but very ill. Need your help to save
him we do.//
//He is DEAD!// Obi-Wan cried out. //His mind is gone from
mine, and I am left behind, hurt and bleeding, unable to follow
him.//
//Believe me you must,// Yoda told him. //When you are well and
able, take you to him I will. Need each other to truly heal,
both of you do.//
//My master is...NOT...dead?// The voice was small, like a
child afraid to hear the answer to a frightening question.
//Alive, Qui-Gon is.// Yoda assured him.
//But I saw him die!// Obi-Wan insisted stubbornly. //I felt
our bonds break as he died.// Terrible sadness again welled up
in the apprentice and it pained Yoda to share it with him.
//Only thought he died, you did. And thought he was
dying, Qui-Gon did. But severed so easily, a life-bond is
not.//
There was a long, shocked pause before Obi-Wan could answer.
//A life bond! A LIFE bond??//
//So surprised, are you?// The ancient one's mind voice held a
hint of amusement.
//Yes! I mean...yes...!// The apprentice was surprised
and could not seem to form a more coherent thought.
//Strong, your Master/Apprentice bond has always been.// Yoda
reminded him. //And strong is the soul bond the two of you
share. Surprise you it should not that such strengths would
combine into something even more powerful between you, as the
life-bond has.//
There was no response from Obi-Wan, only overwhelming shock and
emotion over what his joining with his master had done.
Something wonderful had been produced by their loving union. A
life bond! The thought, still so new to him, made him want to
sing with joy.
//Qui-Gon is in trouble!!??// Suddenly, the reality of the
situation hit Obi-Wan hard. All that Yoda had been trying to
tell him came to the surface of his mind with one gigantic
crash. The panic again tried to set in, but now it was Obi-Wan
who stopped it.
//How can I help Qui-Gon?// he asked Master Yoda.
//No help will you be to him like this.// Yoda said gently.
//Much in need of a healing sleep are you. Return to tend you,
Healer Turna will, and when your body and mind are rested and
repaired, go to Qui-Gon you shall. Mend the broken links and
complete the mind-bond, you shall.//
Obi-Wan wanted nothing more than to help his master
immediately, but he did feel weak. Too weak to even open
his eyes, let alone complete an unfinished bond with his master
and lover. Bowing to Master Yoda's greater wisdom, Obi-Wan
allowed himself to be led into a deep sleep, finally breathing
on his own and ready to heal.
Obi-Wan awoke with a start, screaming into the silent night.
The healer was immediately at his side. "Easy young Padawan,"
she soothed.
He screamed again, as if he couldn't stop himself.
Concerned, the woman placed a small hand on his arm, squeezing
it gently in a show of support. "Shhhh..."
The screaming stopped, but the look of outright panic remained.
"Take it easy. You're safe here."
Healer Turna's fingers swept over the padawan's hot, wet
forehead, as if to brush away any remaining cobwebs of the
nightmare. She could feel Obi-Wan's heart racing, running from
whatever threatened his dreams.
"Qui-Gon..." The pull to be with his master was great.
"Is under Master Windu's care for now, I believe," the healer
finished for him.
"He needs me." The tone was low, the possessiveness in
it unmistakable.
"You need not worry yourself, Padawan," the healer assured
kindly. "Master Windu is well aware of your connection to your
master. He will do nothing to interfere with that. When you are
ready, you will join Qui-Gon in completing the lifebond.
Obi-Wan attempted to sit up, wincing as he did so. "I am ready
now," he insisted, even as his skin took on a sickly
avocado shade.
Myro Turna couldn't hide her smile.
"So eager you are, young padawan." A cool, damp cloth appeared
in her hand as if by magic, and she wiped away some of the heat
from his forehead and cheeks.
"But I can tell that it's not only the physical aspects of the
bond's completion that you so eagerly seek, which is most
admirable. You are truly concerned for your master, your
soul-mate."
The heat rose in Obi-Wan's already warm face.
"Th...the...physical...?"
"Yes," the healer said, puzzled. "I assumed you were aware..."
Her voice fell away as she considered the apprentice's
reaction. "To have forged a bond this intricate, you must have
consummated your relationship with your master at some
point...probably more than once..."
The magenta color spreading to Obi-Wan's neck and ears told the
healer that she was correct.
"There is no cause for shame or embarrassment," she told him
gently, the soft, wet cloth finding his face again. "That is
the way of soul bonds. But you have the beginnings of a life
bond with your master, which goes a step beyond.
"An incomplete life bond means only one of several things. The
bonded pair wishes the relationship to go no further, one of
the bonded pair passed on before its completion...or the
relationship has not yet been equally consummated. In order to
forge the bond for life, both partners must be equally
responsible for creating it."
Myro paused, as she felt Obi-Wan's stress level rising. These
were things that needed saying, but perhaps he was not yet
healed enough in mind and spirit to bear them.
"Obi-Wan?" She waited for him to look at her, but his head was
turned steadfastly away and he would not turn it back. She
could feel, loud and clear, that he wanted nothing more than to
disappear into the room's ventilation system.
"Obi-Wan," she began again, cautiously. "Master Yoda will
instruct you in matters of the bond's completion, but..."
Obi-Wan groaned audibly. "But I think it's something you need
to prepare yourself for. Because until you feel you are strong
enough to do this, and until I feel you are strong enough to
handle it, you won't be allowed to go to Qui-Gon."
Now she could feel Obi-Wan's full attention on her. He didn't
look at her, but his mind was focussed entirely on what she was
saying.
"Will it be...difficult...?" he asked, his voice a small sound
in the darkened room. "...helping to bring Qui-Gon back
and...completing the life bond?"
"You will know what is needed when the two of you are
together," she replied simply.
"Will there be..." he swallowed sharply. "...others in the room
when we...?"
"Other than Yoda's instructions to you beforehand, there will
be no one but the two of you in the room. We will be close by
to assist, should there be any...difficulties...but you will be
left to forge and seal the life bond yourselves."
Slowly, Obi-Wan rolled over, turning wide, mournful eyes upon
the healer.
"I can't even feel him in my mind anymore," he whispered, half
to himself and half to the healer. "I thought he was dead. I
felt him die." A shudder wracked his thin frame. "How
can we ever get back what we've lost?" Tears glittered on his
eyelashes and spilled down his flushed cheeks.
Myro stroked her hand through the padawan's shiny, spiked hair.
"Don't worry," she told him. "You will know what you need to do
when the time comes. Bonds such as the many you share with your
master are not so fragile as you may think. Qui-Gon is merely
lost and confused, as you were. He needs guidance to find his
way back, and the love that you can surely provide. The two of
you will have again that which you feel has been lost.
That and much, much more, I assure you."
The pain radiating from the unconscious Jedi seemed to increase
ten-fold with every passing hour. Qui-Gon Jinn was strong and
stubborn, but Mace Windu wondered how much more even he could
take.
"It shouldn't be much longer, now," Mace told the other Master,
fervently hoping that he spoke the truth. Yoda proclaimed that
the young padawan was healing and would soon be ready to assist
Qui-Gon and complete the life bond with him.
Mace knelt beside the bed and lifted one of Qui-Gon's large
hands into his own, tenderly stroking the cool, limp fingers.
"During the battle, I'm sure you did what you felt was right.
When you sensed that death was inevitable, you sought only to
assist and protect your apprentice, as a good Master would. But
it seems the Force had other ideas. Death found neither one of
you."
The larger man sighed. While he should have been relieved
beyond all comprehension that both men were alive, the
ramifications of what had become of them were devastating.
"This non-life you have found your way into is almost the
equivalent of death." He spoke the truth as his heart knew it.
"If you allow it to fully claim you, it will be much the same
as giving in to the death the Sith wished for you."
For a moment, Mace held the cold hand to his lips, wishing only
to give comfort...to both himself and Qui-Gon. He placed a soft
kiss on the back of it, lingering when he felt the skin warm a
bit beneath his touch.
"You were always one to put others' needs above your own, my
noble one," he said, fondly. "But if you die, I do not believe
your Padawan will ever be able to truly comprehend your
motivations."
More than anything, Mace wished that he could be the one
to take away this man's pain. Not for the physical aspects of
it, although the two of them had had some wonderful moments in
their time as lovers, but for the mental relief that quenching
this fire would bring to Qui-Gon...to the entire Jedi Council,
whose collective suffering was nearly as great. When one of
their own hurt, they all hurt.
"This is what you need, my friend," he said. "Whether
you realize it or not. You have trained your Padawan well, have
taught him many things. I only pray that you can accept what he
has to offer...the chance for the two of you to live the life
you deserve, the life that would have been yours to create
together freely and in happiness before the Sith's
interference.
"Please allow him to help you, my love. Take what you need and
remember that Obi-Wan is suffering too. To deny him what he so
badly needs would be to crush something beautiful. It's
love, Qui-Gon," he said, unable to deny the roughness in
his voice. "And I can't think of anyone--least of all you--who
doesn't deserve that."
"Time, it is." Yoda's small shadow filled the doorway, and Mace
wondered just how long he'd been there, listening. The round,
wrinkled face was a mixture of sadness and determination.
"Prepared we are, for the next step."
Two healers followed the elder Master into the room. With
Mace's help, they lifted Qui-Gon's body carefully onto a
rolling palette, preparing to move him to a larger,
more...accommodating room.
"Accompany Qui-Gon Jinn, you will," Yoda told Mace as the
healers left the room, palette in tow. Talk to the boy, I will,
and then together they shall be."
When Obi-Wan came awake for the second time, he did so with a
greater recollection of who he was and what he needed to do.
"Good. You are awake." The healer smiled down at him
approvingly, running a hand through her red curls. "And I see
that you recall what was discussed earlier."
The flush of Obi-Wan's cheeks was not so bright as before. The
young man was apparently becoming used to the idea of what
helping his master would entail.
"I am ready to complete the life bonding with my
Master," he told the woman as confidently as he could manage.
"Will you allow me to go to him?"
Myro Turna could sense that the young apprentice was attempting
to strike a balance between question and demand. Confused, he
was, as to his place in all of this.
"It will be necessary for me to perform a medical exam to
ensure that you are well, and then for you to engage in
meditation. Yoda will take you to Qui-Gon when he feels you are
ready."
The padawan submitted quietly to the physical exam, turning and
sitting and breathing as he was instructed. When the healer
moved across the room to obtain a soft mat for him to meditate
upon, Obi-Wan swung his legs over the side of the bed, in
preparation.
Just sitting up had dazed him, after so long lying down, and
this new movement proved no easier a task. Head spinning, he
clutched at the bed-side, willing his stomach to stop churning.
The healer spun around, mat in hand, and quickly returned to
her swaying patient.
"Take things slowly," she said, one arm around his shoulders.
"You will adjust."
A healing touch to his brow gave Obi-Wan some ease, and he
prepared himself to stand.
"One step at a time," Healer Turna encouraged. "You have been a
long time recuperating." She placed the blue cushion on the
floor in front of him, assurance in her movements that he could
take as long as he needed to get there.
Obi-Wan stood, legs stiff and wobbly by turns, eyeing the
meditation mat.
Gingerly, he bent one knee, visually measuring the distance to
the floor. Unexpected anger sparked. Why did he feel so weak?
He had not been that badly injured. Disgust surfaced. If he
could not even kneel down to meditate, they would never allow
him to go to Qui-Gon. And if he could not go to the Jedi
master...
The healer felt Obi-Wan begin to topple before he did so, but
was unable to stop the much larger man. In a rush of guilt and
anger, the padawan hit the floor, a solid weight against the
unforgiving hardness.
The fall jarred both his knees and he cried out in pain, biting
his tongue. The burning frustration he was already feeling
doubled at his clumsiness and he found himself wanting to lash
out at whatever...whomever...was closest at hand.
The look of self-loathing in Obi-Wan's ever-changing eyes
stirred something deep within the healer. Carefully, she
approached the fallen figure, hands held palms-up in front of
her in the most non-threatening gesture she could think of.
Even so, she was startled enough to take a step backward when
the man on the floor growled at her with the anguish of a
wounded animal.
"All will be well, young one," she assured him in hushed tones.
"This is merely one step down the path to recovery...and every
journey worth taking is laden with obstacles."
The red haze in Obi-Wan's mind cleared a bit at that. Qui-Gon
had once told him something similar. Bowing so that his
forehead rested against the cold, stone floor, arms
out-stretched, Obi-Wan envisioned himself gathering strength
from its cool, unyielding surface.
"Such desolation I sense in you, young Padawan."
If the floor could not open up and swallow him, then Obi-Wan
wished it would at least absorb the tears he'd shed there so
that Master Yoda would not see his shame.
"Leave us, you may," he heard the Master tell Healer Turna. For
a moment, Obi-Wan wished she would stay, but she probably had
more promising patients to attend to.
A sharp knock on the top of his head surprised Obi-Wan more
than it hurt him. Startled back to reality, he looked up to see
Master Yoda standing before him, walking stick in hand.
"Consume you, self pity can, just as surely as if it were
Darkness itself."
Obi-Wan's blood ran instantly cold at the thought. He had
fought the Darkness on Naboo--he had beat the
darkness--and he would not allow it to be here, in this place,
threatening his master or any of these people.
"Yes," Yoda said with a half-smile. "Understand, you do. Hard
to see, the Dark Side is. Always in the form of menacing beings
the Dark Side is not. Strike in our thoughts, in deeds, in
thoughtless self-proclamations it can."
Obi-Wan shivered, both from the cold floor and the coldness in
his soul.
"Come. Kneel," Master Yoda ordered. He gestured toward the
abandoned blue mat that lay just out of Obi-Wan's reach. The
mat slid across the smooth surface, stopping when it collided
with Obi-Wan's legs.
Giving the small Master a grateful look, Obi-Wan shifted until
his knees, blackening under fresh bruises, were upon the
softness. Eyes on the other master, not knowing what was
expected of him, he was shocked when the elder did not dismiss
himself and leave the apprentice to his meditations. Instead,
Yoda commanded a second mat into his hand from across the room,
and knelt down across from the Padawan.
"Unsure, you still are," he said, not unkindly. "Wary of the
future. And young you still are, in need of counsel, guidance."
Yoda felt an almost electrical jolt go through the apprentice,
as the words triggered an automatic memory response-picture of
Qui-Gon.
Yoda held out his green, clawed hands to the hurting padawan
and there was no hesitation as Obi-Wan grasped and held them
tightly in his own, relieved beyond belief to have a connection
to somethingóto someoneóat last.
"Meditate together, we will," Yoda told the apprentice, closing
his eyes. "Then ready in heart and soul, mind and body you will
be. Ready to join with your master."
Obi-Wan's meditations with Yoda went far into the afternoon.
The Master had not expected to be that long with the young man,
but fevered minds and troubled souls did not come with a time
limit on them.
When the two of them finally emerged from Obi-Wan's sick room,
it was to the sight of the sun beginning to set. Stopping
suddenly before the large windows at the end of the corridor,
Obi-Wan stood for a long moment, mesmerized by the simple
beauty. Only when Yoda cleared his throat did he collect
himself enough to continue down the hallway.
Instead of going straight to his master's room, as Obi-Wan had
hoped, he was led to what looked to be some sort of meeting
room. It was small, with a circular table in the center.
Seated at the table was Jedi Council member Depa Billaba, and
Obi-Wan's stomach clenched at the thought of yet another person
being involved. But he knew her to be one of the Council's
newest and youngest members, and was not as intimidated by her
presence as he was by some other Masters'. Perhaps that was why
they had sent her instead of someone else. Where the Council
was concerned, things rarely happened by chance.
"Do not look so dismayed, young Padawan," she said with a
knowing smile. "We do not mean for you to be kept away from
your Master. We merely wish to be sure that you are
well-informed and have no questions before you begin."
Questions before you begin... For Sith's sake! It
sounded like a test...or one of the many Jedi exercises.
Nonetheless, he took the seat that Yoda indicated without
comment or complaint, swallowing hard around the lump that was
forming in his throat.
"It is our belief," Master Billaba continued. "That Qui-Gon no
longer has a sense of what is reality and what is not. During
the Sith battle, when he began to close down the links you
shared, Qui-Gon very likely did so with the belief that the end
result would be your victory and his own death. Because his
conviction was so total, he may fight you, or he may fight the
knowledge you bring--the fact that you still exist, that
he still exists, and that the ties that bind you are
still very much alive."
Obi-Wan tried very hard to understand and accept what she was
saying, but it was overwhelming. How could he, only a Padawan
learner, give back to his master all that the Sith had taken
away? Feeling suddenly anxious and dizzy, he put a hand to his
head and closed his eyes, willing the nausea to dissipate.
Master Billaba was immediately out of her chair, one of her
smooth hands pressed against Obi-Wan's forehead.
//Relax, Padawan. Relax and be at ease// her mind voice
comforted him.
He felt the soothing Force-healing flow through him and it was
more of a comfort than he cared to admit. The spinning in his
head stopped, as did a small amount of the worry and fear.
"With all due respect, Master," he managed to say. "I don't
understand how we will be able to complete our bonding if my
master is...unable to fully participate. I can't do it
alone..."
The desperation in the padawan's tone was plain.
"It will not be so difficult as you imagine," Master Billaba
said aloud as she returned to her own seat. "The bonds are
already there, deep inside both of you. You will simply become
the guide, the outlet, the conduit through which the bonds will
find a way of reasserting themselves. You will lead Qui-Gon in
this, just as he has led you so many times. And although you
may doubt it now, he will follow you. His feelings for
you will make it impossible for him to do otherwise."
Obi-Wan prayed that it was true.
"Doubts you must not have," Yoda told him firmly. "Do or do
not. Total commitment you must have."
"The circumstances surrounding this may be unusual, Obi-Wan,
but they're not impossible," Master Billaba said with
conviction.
Obi-Wan wished he could share her beliefs. Feeling more and
more uncomfortable, he swung one bare foot back and forth
through the thick Temple carpeting and stared out of the window
into the fast-approaching darkness.
"Obi-Wan." There was concern in the female Jedi's voice, making
him feel guilty for having looked away. Breaking eye contact
with a Jedi Master was disrespectful.
"Obi-Wan, look at me." There was no condemnation in the
tone...only a sincere wish to help.
The apprentice turned a forlorn face up to her, working hard
not to blink or shift his gaze.
"Do you love him, Obi-Wan?"
It was not a question he was expecting, as the crimson color
rising in his cheeks illustrated.
"Obi-Wan Kenobi, do you love Qui-Gon Jinn?"
"Yes!" the padawan said with a sudden rush of emotion. "With
all that I have and all that I am."
"Then all will be well, young one. Love does not conquer all,
but it will conquer this. The Council has felt it. Just
love him, Obi-Wan. Love him and show him the way home. That
will be enough."
This time, Obi-Wan was almost able to believe her.
With a barely audible hiss, the door to the room slid open,
revealing Master Windu.
"The healers are with Qui-Gon," he assured Yoda as he walked
in, as if anticipating the question. "I will say my piece and
take Padawan Kenobi to his master, if that is acceptable."
Both masters nodded in agreement and took their leave of
Obi-Wan, waves of reassurance flowing from them as they exited.
"You are looking well, Obi-Wan," Master Windu commented, eyeing
him from braid to bare feet. "Very much improved since I last
spent time with you."
Knowing that Master Windu had risked his own life to save
Obi-Wan's, the apprentice felt the heat rise in his cheeks
again. Desperately, he fought it off, lest the master think him
ungrateful. Out of respect he gave his full attention to the
large Jedi, although every muscle in his body strained to go to
his master.
"Thank you for saying so, Sir," he replied almost absently, his
mind a million quadrants away...or at least several corridors
away, at Qui-Gon's bedside.
The usually stoic master almost smiled.
"I sense your eagerness for this reunion...this union with your
master," Master Windu told Obi-Wan. "And I sense your
hesitation as well."
Obi-Wan blinked, wondering what else the master could
sense from him.
"You are ready for this," Mace assured him. "Qui-Gon is ready
for this--needs this."
Obi-Wan felt a wave of...something...wash over Mace and in that
moment he understood all that the two men had once been to each
other and just what Qui-Gon's recovery from this meant to his
master's once-lover. And there was no jealousy in the
discovery...simply an increased need to help Qui-Gon heal.
"Is he...still injured...from the fight?" Obi-Wan didn't know
how to ask about the chest wound, but he wanted to know.
Master Windu tucked his large hands into the even larger
sleeves of his robe as he considered his response. While he
still considered Qui-Gon to be physically fragile, the padawan
was almost as fragile mentally. And causing him undo worry
would only assist in complicating matters. Mace chose his words
carefully.
"Although he may still appear ill, Qui-Gon's injuries have been
sufficiently healed. The scarring remains, but you should not
fear that you will injure him."
The Jedi looked Obi-Wan over for a long moment. "You need to be
aware, however, that Qui-Gon's midichlorian count is
exceptionally low. The levels will increase during your
bonding, but right now he will be extremely weak. Perhaps
weaker than you have ever seen him...weaker than he has ever
been."
The idea painted pictures in Obi-Wan's mind that made the hair
on the back of his neck stand on end.
"He may not be able to call upon the Force as easily as he is
used to. In truth, he may find he cannot grasp it at all. And
that will cause him great anxiety."
A chill ran up Obi-Wan's spine.
"You will need to be strong for your master, Obi-Wan. He will
not be able to assist you as you begin and so you will need to
take the lead. Bonding is a natural process--you will
know what to do when the time comes."
Noting the padawan's draining color, Master Windu felt a need
to reassure.
"While you may start this alone, Padawan, you will not finish
it alone. Rest assured, Obi-Wan...when you and your master walk
away from the Med-Center, it will be together, as
lifemates."
The warm glow the words sparked in Obi-Wan's chest soon grew
into a raging inferno. The flames seemed to roar in his ears,
and he nearly missed Master Windu saying, "Now go...go to your
Master, Obi-Wan..."
As Obi-Wan entered Qui-Gon's room, the healers keeping vigil
stood up, preparing to leave. The bed they attended more
closely resembled a very large mattress than an actual bed. It
was wide enough to easily accommodate three or four grown
people and although it sat directly on the floor it was nearly
half a meter high. As the healers passed him on their way out,
Obi-Wan still had enough presence of mind to bow to them in
thanks, but when they were gone, he fairly flew across the room
and threw himself down at his master's side.
"Master!"
It was nearly as bad as he had feared. The once tanned and
noble face of his master was drawn and pale, his chiseled,
spirited features gaunt. The large man, his teacher in
all things, lay completely still, unmoving against the
emerald green bedding that someone had obviously gone out of
their way to procure.
//Oh, Master...//
He'd been so convinced of his Master's death that seeing him
here, alive, was difficult for his mind to accept. Kneeling, he
reached out to touch Qui-Gon's face...the first time he'd
touched him in what felt like forever.
"I love you, Master," Obi-Wan whispered, his voice breaking. He
drew in a shaky breath, trying to curb his run-away emotions.
//With all my heart, I love you.//
And then he was covering the slackened face in kisses, running
his hands along forehead, cheekbones, nose, ears, all the while
murmuring "I love you." He couldn't touch enough...taste
enough...say it enough.
Upon reaching his master's mouth, Obi-Wan was at first content
to stroke the lips, willing them to part under his fingers.
When they fell open at his touch, however, he was overcome.
Bending down, he placed warm lips against the Jedi master's
unusually cool ones, unable to stop the groan that came from
somewhere deep inside his chest as his tongue gained entrance
to the familiarly moist cavern. Force, but he had missed that
taste!
Somewhere, in the back of his mind, Obi-Wan had hoped for a
miracle--or at least for enlightenment. Had hoped that the mere
sight of his master, a kiss, would stir something in him and
show him exactly how to proceed. But it was obvious that this
wasn't some sort of magical fairy-tale. And if there was to be
a happy ending, Obi-Wan knew he'd have to make it for himself.
As he eagerly explored his master's lips, tongue, and teeth,
there was no reaction or response. Obi-Wan hadn't really
expected one, but this felt wrong...like he was taking
advantage of his master...like he was forcing him to
participate in something he had no knowledge of...no control
over.
The pit of Obi-Wan's stomach felt like ice and he grew cold
with the sensation. If he felt this way now, after one stolen
kiss, how would he feel when they got to the more...physical...
aspects of the bonding?
Pushing himself up from the floor, Obi-Wan began to pace. The
Masters thought he could do this. He had to do this. He
wanted to do this. So why was it so difficult?
He had never lacked independent thought or motivation, but as a
padawan he was used to his master's input and guidance in his
life. He was not accustomed to being by himself, doing things
on his own--especially new things--without the ever-present
reflection and feedback of his master.
//Master, help me...//
Returning to his master's side, he settled himself carefully on
the bed. Resting his head on Qui-Gon's shoulder, he listened to
his master's breathing with unfathomable relief. Long minutes
passed, with Obi-Wan's only desire to hear the intake and
expulsion of his lover's breath. But soon even that wasn't
enough.
Ever so carefully, the padawan moved so that he lay chest to
chest atop his master. A rush of familiarity hit him as he
reveled in the soft, solid body beneath his own. This didn't
feel like taking advantage...it felt right. They had slept this
way, so many nights, cheek to cheek, heart to heart...not in
sexual union, but in a spiritual one.
Concentrating, Obi-Wan blocked everything else out of his mind
but the sound of his master's heartbeat. Hesitantly, he touched
the long, silvering hair. He ran his hands down Qui-Gon's arms
and folded the cold fingers into his own warm palms. Cold. His
master was so cold. Obi-Wan shivered in reaction to it.
All at once a small flash of an idea came to Obi-Wan. Getting
up once again, he made his way across the room to the shelving
units mounted on the wall beside the bathroom. They had been
well-provided for and there seemed to be no end to the soaps,
powders, cremes, and oils Obi-Wan found. Stepping curiously
into the bathroom, he found the usual amenities along with
numerous basins, myriad towels, blankets and several changes of
clothing.
Back in the main room, the apprentice perused the shelf once
again. Oil. Yes. Obi-Wan sifted through the many bottles on the
shelf until he found one that suited him. Plucking up a soft
towel as well, he ordered the temperature of the room raised
several more degrees before moving back to the mattress.
Straddling his master's hips, Obi-Wan took a deep breath and
opened the white sleep robe, pushing it back from the man's
chest. He could not stop the gasp that came, unbidden, to his
lips, nor the tears that came to his eyes as his gaze was drawn
to the Sith's deadly brand upon his master's body.
Fingers trembling, Obi-Wan reached out, running his thumb
lightly over the injury, tracing the rough border of the stark
white scar. His hand shook harder as he realized that, should
he turn his master over, he would find a matching mark on his
back where the weapon had made its exit. Shuddering, the
apprentice tried to remind himself of Master Windu's assurance
that Qui-Gon was sufficiently healed.
//I'm so sorry, Master!// his mind cried out. //I would have
stopped him if it were in my power. I would have taken his
weapon into my own body, to save yours from this
defilement...//
Cold. His master was so cold.
Without further distraction, Obi-Wan managed to untie and
remove his master's robe, noting with mixed reaction that
Qui-Gon had nothing on beneath it. Well, he thought with an
almost-smile, it would save him the trouble of wrestling it off
the unconscious man later. Next to hit the floor was his own
robe and underclothes--he wouldn't be needing them for a while.
Taking the sweet-scented oil in still-shaking hands, he
unscrewed the top and poured a generous amount into his palm.
Setting the bottle aside, Obi-Wan rubbed his hands together,
warming the cool liquid and slicking his fingers and palms for
the job ahead. As an afterthought, he recaptured the bottle and
drizzled thin trails of the oil up and down Qui-Gon's arms and
in swirling circles across the broad chest.
//Master...//
Leaning forward, Obi-Wan placed his hands on the broad
shoulders, and kneaded. For long minutes he concentrated on
rubbing warmth back into the icy flesh and then on massaging
stiffened muscles into soft, warm compliance.
//Master...//
Adding more oil to his hands, Obi-Wan moved down his master's
body. From forearms and chest to legs and feet, the
apprentice's hands worked magic, transforming something that
had been untouched far too long into something begging for
physical contact.
//Master...//
When he was finished, his master's body glowed. The renewal of
life in it was pure beauty to behold. Qui-Gon had not yet
answered Obi-Wan's mental calls, but he would. Obi-Wan could
feel it. He had begun to prepare his master, physically, and
with their first joining the mental contact would follow. Now,
more than ever, he knew that.
Of all the places he had explored this night, one area remained
untouched. Sliding away from his master's hips, Obi-Wan
resettled himself between Qui-Gon's legs. Reaching out one
oiled hand, Obi-Wan tentatively grasped the quiescent shaft
that lay before him and squeezed lightly.
The reaction was immediate and unexpected. Qui-Gon arched off
the bed at the small touch, groaning, going instantly rock
hard. It was much more than Obi-Wan had hoped for. Tears of joy
stung Obi-Wan's eyes and he felt the familiar ache in his groin
as his body answered his master's. Qui-Gon was in there,
somewhere. And he was as eager for this as his padawan.
Unable to resist, the apprentice knelt up and came down upon
his master's thick arousal with his mouth. Tasting the creamy
nectar already waiting for him there only spurred him on. Hands
flat against his master's firm thighs, he swirled his tongue
around the glistening head and swallowed his master to the
root.
//You need this, Master,// he told the other man. //I
need to do this for you. Come for me, Master, please,// he
urged as he suckled.
Taking a breath around the fullness in his mouth, Obi-Wan
relaxed his throat and took Qui-Gon deep down inside him.
Tasting his master's readiness, tart and sweet on his tongue,
only increased his need to bring the man to completion this
way.
//Come. Just come,// he pleaded, but the Jedi master
steadfastly held himself away from release.
Perhaps, Obi-Wan thought, there was a part of Qui-Gon that knew
this was not the way to the bond's completion. Obi-Wan knew it,
knew there was more that needed to be done, but he chose this
way to begin. Everything else would happen, all in its own
time. Now, to convince his stubborn master of that fact...
//It's okay to let go,// Obi-Wan promised the Jedi beneath him,
flexing his throat to caress the swollen-to-bursting shaft.
//We will each have our moments tonight. And I want this first
one to be yours. You taught me the art of loving...this is only
an extension of those lessons.//
His mental voice softened. //Let go,// he soothed, setting the
gentle rhythm of his thrusting mouth to words. //Let it all go
and allow me to do this for you, my teacher. Relax, Qui-Gon.
Relax, my love, my Light. Relax and come...//
The words flowed from his mind as Qui-Gon's seed flowed into
his mouth. Hungrily, greedily, Obi-Wan swallowed down every
last drop, feeling the same renewal of spirit he felt every
time his master's essence flooded through him.
Dropping in relief between the sweat-slick thighs, pillowing
his head beside soft, brown curls and softening cock, Obi-Wan
allowed the warm, satisfied rush he was feeling to overtake
him.
Then, horrified, Obi-Wan lifted his head. He had thought it
easiest to start this way, with this most basic of sharing. But
it was supposed to have been Obi-Wan sharing his midichlorians
with his master--not the other way around. Qui-Gon was already
so weak. What had this release done to him? Obi-Wan's earlier
joy disappeared, overcome by heavy, crushing shame.
//I'm sorry, Master!// His mind voice begged forgiveness.
//It's just so much easier to look to your pleasure and release
than to my own.// But even as he said it, he knew the time had
come for action, not words.
//I need your help, Master,// he said. //Please accept what I
can give you and be strong again...for yourself and for me. For
us.//
Calling the bottle of oil to his hand, Obi-Wan coated his
fingers liberally and took pleasure in pouring a great amount
of the sweet-smelling liquid over his master's groin and into
the crease below. Captivated, he watched as the slippery
substance made its way further down, between the firm cheeks,
to pool at his master's entrance.
They had not joined many times, but when they had, his master
had insisted on being the receptacle, out of fear of causing
his lover unnecessary pain during the learning stages of this
most beautiful of acts. Qui-Gon had taught him well: how to
begin with careful preparation; how to be slow and gentle and
loving; how to be aware of the other's feelings, should there
be a need or want for something faster, harder or more
immediate. The two of them had engaged in both sorts of
love-making, although the former was more often chosen by the
master as the teaching tool of choice for his padawan during
their sexual activities.
Gently, Obi-Wan inserted a fingertip and then a finger into his
master, taking care not to hurt this man who had already
suffered too much. Twisting and rotating the digit, he pressed
in and withdrew over and over, until he was certain his master
was adequately prepared. Then, allowing his finger to delve
deeper, he stroked his master just so...there, where Qui-Gon
had showed him. His reward was an almost-electrical current
that surged through the body beneath him, raising the older
Jedi off the bed.
Applying more oil, Obi-Wan inserted two fingers into his
master, shivering slightly as he thought about what would be
inserted next. His own erection was ready and waiting, hot and
heavy against his belly. Scissoring his fingers one last time
inside Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan prepared himself with a
more-than-generous amount of the oil and slid fluidly into his
master.
The young apprentice's breath caught in his throat. Slick heat.
Hot, tight, slick, heat. Had it been so long since he'd done
this, that he'd forgotten the sensations? He felt his buried
shaft set to throbbing at the thought and although he'd feared
not being able to give Qui-Gon what he needed, he found he
could no more stop himself from thrusting than he could stop
the moon from rising.
//Master!// His mind voice cried out as he entered his lover
again and again. //Can you feel me? Do you feel me thrusting
into you, Love? Touching you so intimately, just as you taught
me?// Obi-Wan continued the mental conversation, hoping for a
response from his master. //Does it feel good, Master? Having
me inside you like this? Please say something... Please say
yes...//
Feverishly, Obi-Wan pushed into the older Jedi. Gasping for
air, Padawan braid tossing from side to side, he held his lover
still against his pistoning hips and willed himself to come.
It was difficult. Obi-Wan had learned to see love-making as an
interactive activity. Two people sharing of themselves with one
another. But there was nothing equal about this. This was
entirely one-sided and horribly awkward. Heart still pounding,
Obi-Wan slowed his thrusts.
The Masters had known this would happen. They'd warned Obi-Wan
of his role as 'leader' in this, had tried to prepare him. Only
he could provide his master with what he needed. Only he could
increase the depleted midichlorian levels and help Qui-Gon
obtain the Force again.
For a moment, the task again seemed far too daunting for him to
accomplish on his own. His master had been dead. He'd
felt it happen so long ago on Naboo. And although he lived now,
breathed on his own, the man lying so still, so non-responsive
on the mattress was not the man Obi-Wan had fallen in love
with...perhaps never would be again.
Emotionally exhausted and physically drained after his own
brush with death only days before, Obi-Wan sank down into his
master and collapsed, his head on Qui-Gon's chest. Buried deep
within the man beneath him, he paused, gasping, to order his
chaotic thoughts and catch his breath.
//Master!//
His mind cried out, but again there was no response. Only the
slow, rhythmic beating of his master's heart against his ear.
But nothing else. Concentrating, he followed the heart beat
through Qui-Gon's body. Blood pumped. Oxygen circulated. Breath
flowed in and out. But nothing else.
There was no flicker of his master's self here, Obi-Wan thought
with anguish, not even a spark of the Force that had once
flowed so strongly in him. There were only memories. Memories
and the hopes of the other Masters that one Padawan would
somehow be able to resurrect the man whose life meant more to
him than his own.
Grief threatened to overcome Obi-Wan as he considered the
implications of this...body...under his cheek. Would there
ever be anything again? Hot tears of painful reality
pooled in his eyes and ran in rivers down his cheeks. Would he
and his master ever be anything to each other again? With an
unsuppressed shudder, Obi-Wan lifted a trembling hand to wipe
the sweat and tears from his face. Closing his eyes, he cast
about in the Force, fervently hoping for guidance.
Mind relaxed and open, Obi-Wan found himself distracted by a
hardness beneath him. Reaching down between their bodies, he
found his master's manhood awaiting him, surprisingly hot and
filled to overflowing. Tenderly, he ran his thumb over the
crown, feeling flowing moisture that spoke more of his master's
readiness than any words or thoughts.
As if on cue, Obi-Wan's own erection throbbed inside the tight,
dark passage where it lay waiting, all but forgotten. As he
tentatively began to slide his hand up and down his lover's
hardening flesh, Obi-Wan thought about every time they had made
love...every sensation his mind had logged. Qui-Gon's shaft
jerked in his hand. As he pumped his master's shaft with
greater urgency, he recalled every word of love his master had
ever uttered...every time he had been held in strong arms, soft
breath on his ear, hot semen on his chest....
With a helpless cry, Obi-Wan exploded, pouring his lifeseed
into his master's desperate body, convulsing helplessly with
the onslaught. Faster and faster he continued to ravage
Qui-Gon's cock with his fist, and when it, too, released its
thick, white cream, Obi-Wan felt himself coming again...and
again. And with every spurt, every stream of himself that he
emptied into his master, the padawan imagined that he could
feel his master becoming stronger, more Force-aware. But was it
only his imagination?
Releasing Qui-Gon's limp cock, Obi-Wan reached up to lay a hand
upon his master's damp forehead. Reaching out with the Force,
he sought the other's presence there and touched...something.
Joy coursed through him at the discovery, and he centered his
thoughts on Qui-Gon's body.
The much-needed midichlorians were making their way through his
master's bloodstream, joining and multiplying as they went.
Soon, he thought, Qui-Gon would surge to consciousness, unable
to stop himself from reacting to the energy that pulsed through
him, truly with a life of its own. Soon, he thought, he would
have his Beloved back.
More than curious now, Obi-Wan examined their bond. The
Master/Apprentice bond was there, as was the soul bond. The
lifebond, which he had never even been aware of before, was
present as well. But although Obi-Wan could now feel it, he
could also feel that while it had been revitalized, it was
still incomplete. And it would remain incomplete until...
//Obi-Wan...?//
//Master?// His master's voice in his mind knocked the wind out
of him, robbed his lungs of all their oxygen. //Oh, Master!//
//Obi-Wan! My Obi-Wan!// The voice was indeed weak, and rough
with emotion. //I thought I had lost you forever, my padawan!//
//Never, my Master. Never forever.//
//I thought I was dying...//
//It was not yet your time, Master.//
//And now it is our time, Padawan,// Qui-Gon's mind
voice said. //I can feel that our bonds are very close to their
final stages of development. Soon my love...soon we will be
together for always.//
There were no words to express what Obi-Wan was feeling.
Instead, he simply basked in the warm light that now shone
brightly into the dark depths of his self-imposed despair. His
master, his Light, was returning to him. There was to be
a future for them after all.
Suddenly, the energy flowing through their newly-established
bonds increased exponentially, as Qui-Gon's Force abilities
attempted to reassert themselves all at once. A terrified
scream tore through Obi-Wan at the unexpected surge. Held
immobile by the power and blinded by the excruciating pain, a
second scream and a third came, unbidden, to the Padawan's dry
lips, as the midichlorian count in his master's body reached
and then surpassed its normal levels.
Obi-Wan gasped, barely able to breathe. //Master!//
//Yes, my Obi-Wan...anything you wish...// Qui-Gon
misunderstood his padawan's passionate request, and the fire of
the re-asserting bonds burned brighter with the thoughts of his
young lover.
Sweating, straining against the more powerful mind, Obi-Wan
choked on his words. //Master, stop! Please...stop!// No longer
cognizant of his surroundings, he slipped from Qui-Gon's body
to lay curled in cold, naked agony on the mattress beside him.
Qui-Gon didn't stop. He didn't even appear to have heard his
Padawan's desperate pleas. The joy of his return to the outside
world and of the returning bondings blocked out all else.
Obi-Wan moaned. The pressure building in his head was so great
he felt as though it would explode. Clutching alternately at
his temples and the bedsheets, he tried to latch on to anything
that would end the punishing agony. The pain was unbearable and
as he felt his stomach begin to roil and wretch in response to
it, Obi-Wan made one more attempt to reach his master.
Healer Turna took off for the sequestered med-room at a dead
run. She, like the other Masters, had been monitoring the Force
ripples carefully, awaiting the return of Qui-Gon Jinn and the
inevitable union of Master and Padawan in the life bond. But
something wasn't right. There were a lot of pains and
adjustments associated with the formation of a bond, but the
suffering she was sensing was inhumane. It could not be allowed
to continue.
"Myro! Wait!"
The large, dark-skinned Jedi was closing the gap between them,
but the healer refused to slow her gait. "No!" she yelled back
over her shoulder. "I will not allow this!"
Although she had a head start, Master Windu caught up to her
easily. Myro Turna's small stature was no match for his long
legs. Coming up beside her, Windu grabbed the sleeve of her
robe, effectively stopping her.
"This is not your decision," Mace told her, trying to ignore
the fire flashing in her green eyes.
"The Sith Hell it's not!" she spat out, chest heaving from the
exertion. "I am his physician and if I say..."
"A life bond is to be left to the will of the Force," Mace
reminded her gently. "If the bond is to be, it is to be. If
not, Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon will discover that, and terminate
their interactions accordingly."
"Terminate their inter...???" The healer sputtered, furious at
being kept from her charge. "This is not some experiment we're
talking about. It's two people in pain! Two lives
in jeopardy!"
"You must allow the bond to form of its own accord, Myro," Mace
insisted. "A bond tainted by outside interference will
ultimately turn weak and unstable, as you well know. Would you
risk that?"
Myro Turna sighed heavily, pushing a loose red curl back into
position behind her ear.
"Okay...I will wait and see how it all plays out. But I warn
you--if this level of suffering continues much longer, I
will interfere. Bond or no bond, I will not risk
any patient of mine in the name of the Force!"
Windu was not entirely satisfied with Myro's statement, but the
older Jedi was at least accepting of the healer's opinions.
Sending out a tendril of the Force to cool the fires of her
blazing temper, Mace shortened his stride to match the healer's
on the way back to the Council Chambers.
Trembling, on the edge of insanity, Obi-Wan shouted, "Master,
stop!"
The words were wrenched from his throat as he began to sob.
Heaving painfully, dryly, he closed his eyes against the
onslaught and attempted, unsuccessfully, to close his mind as
well. On his hands and knees, forehead to the bed, he rocked
back and forth, trying to force the excruciating invasion from
his mind.
In the throes of such suffering, Obi-Wan's fevered brain
conjured up all sorts of ideas, not the least of which was the
possibility that he would never have a life bond with his
master. He could not take much more, and if this was what the
bonding was to be like, his mind and body could not accept it.
Could not!
As if to illustrate his point, another lightning bolt of pain
struck Obi-Wan, doubling him up. Huddled in a ball, icy hands
wrapped around his knees, the padawan howled piteously, this
time in shame. Oh, to let his master down this way! It was one
thing to know that he would never know the love and joy, the
permanence and unsurpassed intimacy a life bond provided. But
to know that he was keeping his master from such an experience
was unthinkable, unbearable. Obi-Wan's entire body shook with
his effort to hold the tears inside.
//Obi-Wan?// For the first time since they'd begun, Qui-Gon
sounded fully aware.
A tiny bubble of hope floated to the surface of Obi-Wan's dark
and murky pain.
//Obi-Wan?//
When his master called for him again, in the same coherent
voice, Obi-Wan felt compelled to answer.
//It...// Tears squeezed out through Obi-Wan's closed eyelids
and his breathing was labored as he tried to stop the heaving
of his insides. //it...hurts...// he whimpered. It was all he
could manage. //it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts//
//Obi-Wan?// His master seemed confused. //Our bond is nearly
complete. Is this not what we have both longed for?//
//YES!// and then //NO!// came the fevered shouts from the
apprentice's mind, before he could prevent the words from
coming out . //it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it
hurts it hurts// Even through clenched teeth, his sobs poured
forth.
"Obi-Wan?" For the first time in weeks, his master spoke aloud,
but unlike before, Obi-Wan no longer had the energy for a
verbal reply.
//...hurts so...badly...hurts...// Obi-Wan thought back, his
mind screaming in agony. The horror of this continuing until
the bond's completion was too much to contemplate. //stop the
pain. please. too much. make. it. STOP.//
Black spots danced before the padawan's eyes as he reeled
towards unconsciousness. His last thought before he passed out,
was that of death. More than anything right now, he wished for
it to claim him, to end his suffering.
//Obi-Wan! No!!//
The master felt the apprentice give in to the blackness, heard
his mental plea for death to take him. And knew that he could
not allow it.
//Obi-Wan! Love!//
Qui-Gon opened his eyes for the first time in weeks, and they
watered profusely, even in the reduced lighting. Blinking the
blur away, he spared a moment to look about the room he was in,
before all of his attention was given to his padawan.
Having rolled onto his back in an attempt to escape the pain,
Obi-Wan's face was a mask of pure agony. Still holding his body
taut, knees bent and hands clenched, he looked, to his master,
very much like a defenseless, toppled tei beetle that could not
right itself. And as it would for any frightened, injured
animal, Qui-Gon's heart went out to his apprentice.
//Oh, Obi-Wan...//
Just opening his eyes and turning his head had indeed been
great accomplishments for the renowned Jedi Master. Sitting up
was something else entirely. Muscles, stiff and lethargic from
non-use, protested fiercely. Pain shot up and down stiff limbs
as he levered himself, first to his elbows and then into an
upright position. Gathering his newly-acquired Force abilities
around him, Qui-Gon covered himself in a blanket of healing
until he was nearly pain-free and able to sit almost
comfortably.
Drawing in several deep breaths, Qui-Gon reached his mind out
to Obi-Wan.
His padawan's suffering was deep. Qui-Gon could feel that
nearly all of the younger man's energy was being expended to
shield himself against the pain.
//hurts hurts hurts//
Guilt hung heavily about the Jedi Master. He had done
this to his apprentice. Indirectly, perhaps, but his actions on
Naboo had led to this.
//Obi-Wan!//
Qui-Gon's mind shout was a last resort....an effort to pull his
padawan's attention back to the here and now. It was the Force
equivalent of a mental slap and it worked.
// //
It wasn't a true response, but neither was it more of the
mantra. It appeared he now had Obi-Wan's attention.
//Obi-Wan...listen to me. I know you're in pain and I know
you're frightened. But I also know how to stop those
feelings.//
// ? //
// Will you trust me?//
The older Jedi felt another pang of guilt as he asked his
apprentice to do something he knew would be difficult....for
both of them.
//...i...i...do...// came the small voice.
Warmth rushed through Qui-Gon at his padawan's brave words,
even in the face of the unknown.
//You saved my life, by selflessly offering your midichlorians
to me, Padawan,// Qui-Gon began. //Our bonds are going to be
stronger than ever, and I will have you to thank for it for the
rest of my days.//
He could feel Obi-Wan's doubts and knew that he was holding
himself back even though there were things he wished to say.
//My love, you are feeling the pain of an unfinished bonding.
Our lifebond was only half-formed before the incident on Naboo,
but it was forming naturally. With all that has happened here
today, the bond has not only been reformed, it has been
reformed more strongly than before. And it is out of balance.//
A sudden spasm of pain tore through Obi-Wan, and he screamed
out loud as his body shuddered and shivered against the green
bedclothes.
//Oh, beloved! How you suffer!// Qui-Gon touched Obi-Wan for
the first time, unable to help himself. Levering the young man
off the mattress, he pulled him into his lap as he had done so
many times before. Automatically, his hand reached up to stroke
the damp forehead and lightly brush the soft cheek.
//Don't. Touch. Me!// The anguished mental cry was almost
enough to make Qui-Gon drop his precious bundle back onto the
bed.
//Obi-Wan...// Qui-Gon hushed the padawan.
Obi-Wan writhed in his grasp, teeth gritted, eyes rolling
wildly. //Your. touch. hurts. me.// he managed to gasp
out. //hurts hurts hurts hurts hurts//
Qui-Gon knew it was time. Before things got out of control
again, he had to put a stop to this. Skin white and taut over
too-visible cheek bones, stomach rippling, fingers and toes
clenching and unclenching, all spoke silently of Obi-Wan's
great pain. Carefully, he laid his padawan on the mattress.
//Oh, Obi-Wan! I so wanted this first time to be special for
you. I wanted it to be slow and gentle and beautiful. I wanted
to be able to take the time to heighten the sensations until
you were begging to be released and then to bring you to
completion slowly...//
Qui-Gon had to stop as emotion overcame him. He took a
shuddering breath to steady his next words.
//I promise you, my love, that when this is over and we are
both sufficiently recovered, I will show you just how wonderful
this sort of union can be. For now, I will be gentle, beloved,
but you will have to be my brave Padawan one more time. I
promise that once the lifebond is in balance, there will be no
more pain.//
A whimper from Obi-Wan was his only answer. Qui-Gon's heart
squeezed tightly at the sound of his apprentice trying so hard
to control his response.
Procuring the nearly-empty bottle of oil Obi-Wan had abandoned
on the floor beside the mattress, Qui-Gon began to prepare
himself. The conditions for this were less than ideal and just
the thought of what he was about to do nearly undid him. But
fears must be faced, he knew, lest they grow into something
Dark, and this was the only solution to their problem.
Touching himself sent shivers through his body, and while it
was the last thing he wanted to do, Qui-Gon stroked his shaft
until it was shining and hard in his now-slippery hand. Then,
with the utmost care, he prepared Obi-Wan, thanking the gods
that this would be the extent of his apprentice's
participation.
During the several minutes that Qui-Gon's slickened fingers
penetrated and prepared Obi-Wan's body, the Jedi master was
nearly overcome by the mental cries of agony which accompanied
his thrusts. Heartsick and weary, he forced himself to think
only of the outcome. When he at last lifted the Obi-Wan's legs
to his shoulders and pressed his cock against the small, dark
opening, the apprentice's cries became harsh screams that
threatened to deafen the older man.
//Bear with me, Obi-Wan,// he soothed. //Bear with me and it
will be done. I know it hurts. I know it hurts. I'm
sorry you're suffering so.// He took a shaky breath, tears
welling in his blue eyes. //It won't be long now, I promise.
Bear with me, Padawan.//
As he spoke into Obi-Wan's fevered mind, Qui-Gon slipped his
penis further and further into the body beneath him. Using the
Force as a shield, he took as much of the pain upon himself as
he could. All he had to do was come, and the lifebond would be
complete.
//You are everything to me, my Obi-Wan.// He told the younger
man. //I love you and I will love you until the day that I am
one with the Force.//
The thrusting became faster and deeper, Qui-Gon concentrating
on Obi-Wan's comfort and ease. And although he had stimulated
Obi-Wan with his fingers before, showing him the pleasure to be
gained from touching a male in just the right ways, he knew his
padawan had never before felt the sensation of another's cock
inside himself.
Pulling almost all the way out, Qui-Gon readjusted Obi-Wan's
legs and body just before he slid in one last time, buried to
the hilt, internally stroking his beloved padawan.
//All that I am, my Obi-Wan, and all that I have, I give to
you,// he said simply as he came in white hot jets inside his
lover and now-lifemate.
The screams that issued forth from the young apprentice then
were a mixture of pain...and joy.
Laying in sated relief, Qui-Gon settled Obi-Wan's silky head
against his shoulder and cheek. Still breathing hard from the
exertion, the Jedi Master pulled his padawan's limp body close,
arms holding him tightly, and drew the bed covers up around
them. Obi-Wan had been through much this night, but all would
be well. The Force-energies were balanced in them now, and
whatever was to come, they would face it together.
Allowing a very un-Jedi-like sigh to escape his lips, Qui-Gon
took one last look at the man in his arms and allowed himself
to join his lifemate in sleep.
"Qui...Qui-Gon?" The voice was no more than a rough whisper,
but it was a balm to Qui-Gon's soul.
"Obi-Wan...I'm right here. I'm right here, my love." Reluctant
to relinquish the grasp of the man held tightly in his arms,
head on his shoulder, Qui-Gon rolled back just a bit, taking
Obi-Wan's face between large hands.
Memories of past pain were still strong, and he felt his
padawan flinch at the touch, and then relax into it.
"It doesn't hurt anymore, does it, Love?" the Jedi master
asked, blue eyes looking deeply into hazel.
Obi-Wan took a deep breath, taking a moment to inwardly
catalogue his thoughts and feelings.
"I can feel the bond between us," he said softly, in wonder.
"It's so...strong....so alive. All I feel is...happiness."
Warmth and joy flowed through Qui-Gon. He stroked a finger
along his apprentice's jaw. "Rest now, my Obi-Wan. We have both
done enough for one night."
He felt, rather than saw, Obi-Wan's smile, as the padawan
closed his eyes and nestled his face into his master's
shoulder. The younger man was asleep again almost instantly,
and within minutes, the older Jedi followed.
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