Rating: I think I have to give it an overall NC-17 because of
the ending...
Category: Angst, POV, SongFic
Pairing: Q/O
Feedback: yes please...
Archive: otay!
Summary: you want a summary? Umm...Obi-Wan has to save Qui-Gon,
but first he has to work through his own issues
Disclaimer: George owns them, not me. The song "Superman"
belongs to Five for Fighting. Suing will get you nothing but my
library, which is mostly textbooks anyway. Riddle courtesy of
April Tierney, which I found on some website.
Warnings: m/m sex. If you don't like it, boy are you on the
wrong mailing list!
Spoilers: um, I don't think so.
// is bond speak italics are Obi's thoughts
[]'s are Qui's thoughts
Notes: This started out as a quickie one part story that
rapidly spiraled out of control with help from my roommate and
my own warped psyche, and too much time at work where my boss
was out of the office without leaving me anything to do (it's a
work study position...I don't have any authority so I do what
they leave me and wait for further instructions...on the
upside, they're really cool about letting me sit here and write
when I don't have anything better to do.). I have decided that
for some reason, I really enjoy writing dark stories, full of
emotional (and physical where I can pull it off)
trauma...
Notes 2: There were actually only a couple of lines from this
song that inspired me, and I actually take them way out of
context from what the band probably originally intended. The
first time I heard this song (lyrics at the bottom) the line
that grabbed my attention was "Even Heroes have the right to
bleed" and I thought, oh, that has potential for angst there,
and so the bunny was born. As I worked on this, the other line
that I thought of (and don't hate me here) was from Star Trek 5
where Kirk tells that guy "I NEED my pain". It just went to
well with what I was doing...anyway... this might get painful
down the road, and it's going in directions I hadn't quite
intended when I started.
I want to thank my roomie and beta, jambery, for her help with
this, and her support! And here's the story, after almost an
entire page of notes...which I might just make a separate post
for that very reason.
I curled up in the recliner as small as I could, pulling the
ridiculous red robe around me for warmth. The chill I was
feeling wasn't merely physical, due to the lower temperature of
the infirmary, but psychological as well. Qui-Gon Jinn, my
Master and the other half of my soul was in a coma.
The native healers were unable to explain his condition
physically, but I knew exactly what the cause was. He'd slipped
into psychic shock during a battle that had made me a local
hero.
Our last mission hadn't ended well, leaving Qui-Gon severely
injured, but not enough for the Council to let us return to
Coruscant and the Temple. Instead, they sent us off to Trelias
for what was supposed to be a relatively simple set of
negotiations between three factions warring for control over
the planet. I get the feeling sometimes that I'm not supposed
to get used to being at the Temple for any length of time. I
haven't spent significant time there in years. No matter what,
the Council is always shunting us off to another mission; it
doesn't matter what physical or mental condition we happen to
be in.
My soulbonded was still healing from a broken leg and an
infection in his lungs from swallowing water after falling into
a fetid pond when he broke said leg, not to mention the general
condition of being run down and not having had a decent meal in
longer than I care to remember. But despite it all, he had to
act as chief negotiator, since in the eyes of the Trelians,
until I was 25, I was still a child.
We'd been on planet for less than a week, when the mission
went bad. I slipped out of our quarters that morning, hunting
down something palatable for breakfast, letting Qui-Gon get
some much needed rest. I had just reached what passed for a
refectory in the bombed out shelter we were staying in, when
there was a mental cry out over the soulbond, and then nothing.
I dropped the tray I had loaded and ran back to our quarters,
to find Qui-Gon missing, a short note in his place.
The third party was demanding that I, now the primary
negotiator, convince the other two parties that their way was
the only way, or they'd kill my Master, and denounce the cease
fire that had been in effect since we'd arrived, and not
necessarily in that order. I took only a minute to compose
myself. As a Jedi, my duty was clear. I was not to sacrifice
the good of this planet for my Master, my lover, my soulmate. I
had to continue on exactly as he had, and hope that I could
find time to rescue him.
For two days, the negotiations continued on as they had
before. I apologized for my Master's absence, pleading illness;
only I and the representative of the third party, and I'm not
sure about him, truly knew about Qui-Gon. They were keeping him
drugged, that much I was sure of. Through the soulbond I could
get a general sense of him, but our telepathy wasn't working. I
could tell when the drugs began to wear off, because I could
get a better sense of what he was feeling, his emotional state
became clearer. He was in pain. And his love for me was all
that was keeping him from breaking.
The evening of the second night after Qui-Gon was taken, there
was a small reception for those of us participating in the
negotiations. My only intention was to go, make my rounds as
required by duty, then sneak out and try to track down Qui-Gon,
whose mind had grown more clear towards the evening hours. I
had only been at the reception for about fifteen minutes when
all hell broke loose. A loud boom and a mental scream occurred
at exactly the same moment, both reducing me to my knees, the
boom as the building around me shook, and the scream because of
the source and the intensity.
//Qui-Gon!// I shouted across our bond, but only encountered
shields. //Dammit, Qui-Gon, don't shield from me. Answer me,
love, please!// I still got no response, but I could feel
phantasms of pain across the bond. I pushed them aside as I
watched people around me draw weapons, ready to dissolve a
weeks worth of negotiations that were nearly complete. Before I
could do much more than squawk in protest, blaster fire
appeared all around me.
Duty first, I had to remind myself. I dragged my attention
away from my bondmate to deal with the rapidly downwardly
spiraling situation in front of me. I deflected the blaster
bolts from the representatives who were cowering behind me.
"Run!" I shouted and gestured them towards an overturned table
where they could seek refuge. I stretched my senses to the
limits, searching for something, anything, that would give me a
clue as to what was going on.
The hall was surrounded by Trelians similarly dressed, all
with badges marking them as being members of the third party. A
quick scan of the third party representative confirmed my
suspicions; he knew nothing about was happening within his
party. I stood in the middle of the hall, my blue saber ignited
and held in a defensive posture, weapons pointing at me from
all directions. The shooting had stopped as soon as the
delegates were under cover, which wasn't surprising as this was
supposed to be an unarmed occasion. I didn't waste time trying
to figure out how they'd smuggled the weapons in, I was just
thankful that no one else was armed.
"Put down your weapon Jedi," one of the armed men called
out.
"And if I don't?" Keep them talking, Kenobi, just like you've
been taught. This is a hostage situation, I told myself.
"We kill your Master."
The response was quickly followed by a mental cry, a stab of
pain, and then a sudden emptiness as my bondmate's presence was
torn from my mind. I staggered under the sudden absence of a
presence I hadn't been without in my head since just before my
thirteenth birthday. I recovered quickly, spouting off, "Not a
valid threat."
A glimmer of warning through the Force, and I brought my saber
up in time to deflect the volley of shots aimed at my chest.
Several were reflected right back to the source, taking out the
gunmen. Many more went into the surrounding walls, as I had
hoped, trying to spare life, even the lives of those trying to
take mine. Over the course of what seemed like hours, but in
reality was only minutes, I was able to disarm or kill all the
third party members that had broken the cease fire.
The locals immediately declared me a hero. The representatives
were ready to sign a peace treaty right there, only the Force
knows why. My tunics singed almost to destruction, the
representatives insisted I don the ceremonial red robe, worn
only by those given the highest of honors.
The delegates insisted on hashing out the details of the
treaty right then and there, so it wasn't for many hours that I
was able to escape and look for Qui-Gon. I couldn't trace him
using our bond, since it was effectively blocked somehow, and I
wouldn't know what was causing it until I found Qui-Gon. I knew
he had to be relatively close, since the terrorists, as the
representative had taken to calling them, were able to so
closely coordinate threats with response. Soldiers from all
three parties helped me to search an area within comm range. I
finally found him, after an hour of searching, in an
underground bunker on the edge of the grounds where the
negotiations were being held.
I carried him back to the infirmary set up in the building.
The healers were kind enough to move a comfortable chair to my
lover's side, so that I, hero of the night, wouldn't be the
least inconvenienced while watching over my comatose partner.
They tried to treat my wounds, but I wouldn't allow them to. I
needed some reminder as to why I must hold vigil over my mate;
some evidence had to remain to prove to me that my Master had
not endured for nothing. My wounds would heal on their own; I
would not use the Force to speed them. It wasn't even until the
healer's mentioned them that I'd been aware of my injuries. I
pushed the knowledge aside and turned my attention to my
soulmate.
I hugged my knees to my chest, pulling into a small tight
ball, making me look as small as I felt inside. I was
completely alone in my head, something I hadn't experienced
much since becoming a Padawan, and hadn't felt at all since the
soulbond was formed between Qui-Gon and I three years
before.
I felt like the 12-year-old initiate I had once been.
Frightened and alone, worried that no one would find me worthy
of being a Padawan. But rather than being alone in my cell at
the Temple, I was sitting next to my Master on Trelias, scared
and alone, worried that I would never complete my training,
worried that my Master would never recover, worried that there
would be no way for me to go on if I had to do so alone. I
wanted to cry, to find release for the emotions I felt within
me. But I couldn't cry. I couldn't feel anything as the ache of
loneliness began to eat away at all other feeling.
"Oh, Qui-Gon," I whispered, after sitting silently for several
hours, casting about in the Force for some hint of my
soulmate's presence. I knew it was futile; patients of psychic
shock retreated into themselves, erecting shields so strong
they couldn't be breached without the risk of serious harm to
both the victim and the one doing the breaching.
"Master," I reverted to a time before we were lovers, to a
time where Qui-Gon was my father figure until I began to see
him as a beautiful man. "Master, you have to help me. I don't
know if I can go on like this. It's so cold, and I feel so
empty," my voice grew softer as I spoke, and even to my own
ears, the accent Qui-Gon loved so much grew thicker.
"I know you aren't dead, and that eventually you should heal
and return to me. But I-I don't think I can survive until you
awake. Not if it takes as long as Yoda thinks it might. I
called him, as soon as I could. He's sending Jedi healers here,
to help you help yourself. They should be here tomorrow
sometime."
I'd drifted into safe topics, away from my feelings. I
acknowledged them, it was time to move on. In the morning, I
would have to assume all the duties that would have befallen my
Master. As a Jedi, I couldn't allow my personal issues to
distract me from my duties. It's times like these I realize
just how hard a Jedi's life can be, and why those non-Jedi have
a hard time understanding us.
My eyelids grew heavy as the last of any energy I still
possessed left me. "Qui-Gon, my love, please come back to me,"
I whispered, before letting sleep take me.
I floated peacefully in the world between awake and dreaming.
It was so quiet there. It was warm, and nothing hurt. But
still, I could feel that space inside of me. That empty space
that taunted me. I heard a soft noise. My name. Someone was
calling me. I followed that sound to greater awareness, letting
it distract me some from the pull of the dark, cold, empty
space within me.
"Obi-Wan?"
I heard the familiar voice at my shoulder and willed my eyes
to open. They felt gritty, like someone had poured salt under
the lids while I slept. I blinked a few times, to clear the
bleary scratchiness before I could focus on the face hovering
above mine.
"Master Mace?" I asked. Attempted to ask. My voice was raspy,
from lack of use? "How is Qui-Gon? Where is Qui-Gon?" I looked
around and realized I was no longer at the side of the love of
my life. "Where am I? What's happened?"
"Shh. Slow down, Padawan," Mace urged, and handed me a cup of
water.
I sipped slowly as he adjusted the bed I'd somehow managed to
find my way into. There was a strange absence of pain from the
injuries I had sustained yesterday--days ago? Master Mace must
have noticed my look of bewilderment and took pity on me for he
explained.
"Master Yoda and I arrived with our own healers a day after
the attack. You had fallen asleep at your Master's side, and
the native healers, correctly assumed that you would not be
waking anytime soon, and so they moved you and treated the
injuries that you were stubborn enough not to let them heal in
the first place. You've been unconscious for three days now,
sleeping off the battle stress, not to mention whatever else
you've been through on the last few missions."
I didn't try to explain why I didn't let the healers do their
job, though I know Mace Windu would understand if I did. I
didn't even feel much of a reaction at the news that I had been
treated. I still felt empty, hollow and cold. There was a large
hole inside me, and I was rapidly reaching the point of panic,
though I had been awake a short time. Three days previous, I'd
had adrenaline to run off, to keep myself from thinking about
anything, to keep myself going until I collapsed, so I could
run from the aching coldness that lurked inside me. The missing
half of my soul. It's no wonder I slept for three days. The
last few missions had been relentless. A case of food
poisoning, a virus shared between Master and apprentice,
injuries that needed caring for, a soulmate that needed looking
after. Exhaustion was becoming my way of life, rather than a
temporary state.
"Qui-Gon?" I asked after pulling myself back out of my black
reverie, and taking a deep breath, trying to push the panic
aside. I locked it away in box near the back of my mind, where
I stored my fears; somewhere that I could pull it out later and
examine it fully when time allowed.
"No change," Mace answered slowly. "Yoda and the healers are
with him constantly, watching for any signs that he might come
back to us.
"Can they help him?" I asked softly, almost afraid to hear the
answer.
"I don't know, Obi-Wan," he said honestly, and I saw the hurt
lurking there in his dark eyes.
Mace Windu has been my Master's best friend for as long as I
can remember, and according to Temple scuttlebutt, there was a
time when they were more than friends. If there ever was such a
time, neither shows any hard feelings for it having ended, and
they remain good friends. Mace has been like an uncle to me, or
the best I can approximate an uncle should be from research of
family dynamics for various missions. If there was ever a time
I couldn't go to Qui about anything, I knew I could talk to
Mace, with knowledge that I would never be judged, or
chastised.
Mace was the second to know of my true feelings toward my
Master. The first was my best friend, Corra, a Padawan a year
younger than me. We had grown up together in the crèche
and been taken as Padawans only a few months apart. She had
urged me to seek the counsel of another when it got to the
point where she couldn't help me anymore. So I had gone to Mace
Windu.
He talked me through my teenage crush, explained to me why
most Master/Padawan pairs avoided a physical relationship,
though it was not forbidden. When I realized I was truly in
love with Qui-Gon, that no longer was I merely infatuated with
schoolboy lust, or some sense of hero worship, Mace helped me
work up the courage to go to my Master, to confess of my
feelings. When Qui-Gon returned them, it was probably the
happiest day that I had known in my life to that point. It had
been surpassed a few weeks later with the discovery of the
soulbond that had formed between us.
"Obi-Wan?"
The soft question brought me back to reality. "Yes?" I looked
up from where I had evidently been staring at my clasped hands
into Mace's concerned gaze.
"Are you okay?"
There were so many waysI could answer that question.
Physically I felt fine. Nothing of my body ached anymore, and I
felt rested, though still tired. Mentally, I was a wreck. Just
thinking about the question was almost enough for me to loosen
my grip on the box I had shoved to the back of my head. I shook
my head no, not wanting to speak, fearing if I did, I would
finally lose that little bit of control I still held.
"Obi-Wan?" Mace asked, and shifted closer to my side.
"C-cold. Em-empty," I stuttered, feeling the hotness of tears
in my eyes. The emotional release I had so wanted a few days
ago seemed within my grasp at last. I allowed the tears to
fall. "I'm so alone, and there is this cold, empty hole in my
mind and I'm scared, Mace, I'm so scared."
With that last whispered sentence, the tears gave themselves
over to sobs, and Mace gathered me in his arms, and let me have
my release, thankfully sparing me another lecture on how fear
leads to the Darkside. For a long while he held me in his
powerful arms, as he'd done before when my Master was injured
and unable to help me battle the night terrors that plagued me.
I don't know how long we sat in that big comfortable chair,
Mace rocking me like a child, while I sobbed until my chest
ached all over again. Had it been anyone other than Mace, or
Qui-Gon, I would have died of embarrassment, or shame, or some
combination of both. But Mace passed no judgment.
When the sobs trailed off to soft hiccups, and from there to
muffled snifflings, I was gently placed back in my bed, though
Mace pulled his chair closer and remained at my side and I once
again gave into the darkness that beckoned.
When I woke, my internal sense of time told me I had only been
asleep a few hours. The chair next to my bed was empty, but
knowing Mace Windu he wouldn't be far. My face felt stiff from
the dried tears on my cheeks, and my throat felt raw from the
sobbing I had done. I scrubbed my hands over my face, noticing
the growth of beard, and the prominence of my cheekbones. The
skin under my eyes felt baggy, and caked with salt. How could I
look so tired when I had slept the last three days away?
"Because not at peace, you are," a gravelly voice spoke from
the floor.
"Master Yoda," I croaked, and forced myself to sit upright,
despite the elder Master's wave of dismissal.
The diminutive Master floated himself up to perch on the edge
of my bed, as I had seen him do so many times before, whether
visiting me, or Qui-Gon on any one of our frequent appearances
in healer's wards across the galaxy.
"How feel you, Obi-Wan?" he asked, looking me straight in the
eye.
I knew I couldn't lie to him; the green troll had a way of
looking through anyone to see the whole truth. I reached for
the glass of water sitting on the bedside table and sipped
slowly, letting the water soothe my throat, while I took
internal stock.
"I feel fine, physically," I clarified. I had the suspicion
that Yoda knew exactly what was going on in my head. After my
release with Mace, I didn't feel quite so hollow, but that
emptiness was still there, still threatening to overwhelm me,
to render me totally and utterly useless if I didn't find some
way to work through it, or get my beloved back.
"Frightened, you are," Yoda understated, as always.
"Yes, Master." I was terrified, and anyone with an iota of
Forcesence could probably read it in my signature, no matter
how strong my shields were.
"Worried you are, that come back to you, your soulmate will
not."
"Yes and no, Master," I answered. The familiar sense of panic
was rising again with Yoda parading my feelings out for me to
see. I tried to push it back, but it was becoming increasingly
difficult to bury the strong emotion. I felt strongly that
Qui-Gon would return to this world, but I wasn't certain that
it would be me he would be returning to. The empty feeling was
growing minutely with time away from my lover, my soulmate, and
I was afraid I would end up a shell of the person I had been
before.
A three-fingered claw rested on my temple. "Calm, you should
be. Your center you should find."
The light touch to my face and the soft words helped me find
my balance. I took a shaky breath and exhaled slowly,
dispelling as much of the panic and fear with that single
breath as I could.
"Return to you, Qui-Gon will," Yoda stated with certainty when
I had a hold of myself once more. "Strong you always have been,
Obi-Wan Kenobi. Even stronger now, you must be. Survive this,
you will, and stronger the bond will be for it. Never break, a
soulbond can. Even in death, the bond lives on."
I didn't find those last words particularly comforting. I was
spared thinking on them by the timely appearance of Mace Windu.
He carried what looked to be a Jedi uniform, and what were
probably my boots, reclaimed from the healers.
"Obi-Wan, Master Yoda," he greeted us with a nod before
placing his bundle in the chair he'd occupied the night before.
"As soon as you're ready, Obi-Wan," he explained, "we are
cleared to leave. The healers feel we should get Qui-Gon back
to the Temple as soon as possible, since the resources there
are better suited for this case."
I nodded, and pushed back the covers of the hospital bed. I
was only mildly surprised to discover I was still draped in the
silly red ceremonial robe the Magistrate insisted on having me
wear.
Yoda hopped down from my bed just as I turned to dangle my
legs over the side. "See to Qui-Gon I will. On the ship, we
will meet."
"Yes, Master," Mace and I responded in unison.
I pushed myself off the bed, but I moved too quickly. The
entire room began to spin and swim, and gray out at the edges.
My knees wobbled like a newborn foal's, unsteady after three,
no four days, I corrected myself, four days abed.
"Whoa," Mace said as he grabbed me before I could hit the
floor. With one arm wrapped around my waist, he moved the pile
of clothing to the bed, then guided me to the chair.
"You know," I said as he began helping me out of the robe.
"I'm perfectly capable of dressing myself. Have been for
years." It was only a token protest. Even though I'd been
"resting" for days, my body still wasn't all the way recovered
from the injuries I'd sustained, or the mental shock of having
part of my soul ripped away.
Mace looked somewhat relieved at my feeble attempt at levity.
"I know, Kenobi," he responded, resorting to using my last
name, as he always did teasing. "But if I let you try, chances
are you'll fall on your face, and Qui-Gon'll never forgive me
if you end up with a nose that looks like his."
I smiled a response as I was helped into the first of several
tunics. "How'd he break it anyway?" If we hadn't played this
scene before, I might have felt uncomfortable with Mace Windu
helping me into a pair of pants. Of course, I wasn't fully
cognizant the last time it had happened.
"He's never told you about that?" Mace asked. "I don't expect
he did, it is awfully embarrassing."
My hips were lifted, and the pants were slid up and over the
narrow protrusions of bone. I tied the laces while Mace rooted
around in the pile of clothing for the socks that were buried
in there.
Mace smiled. "When we were about your age, Qui-Gon and I were
sent on a mission together, without our Masters. The primary
means of ground transport were these two-wheeled cycles, with a
primitive hand steering device that connected to the front
wheel. They required much concentration to maintain balance, or
you'd fall off.
"We were cycling from one negotiation site to the next, when
someone behind us shouted. Qui-Gon turned his head to see what
had happened, lost his balance, and," Mace clapped his hands
together "ran smack into a parked hover car belonging to the
leader of one of the factions we were trying to negotiate with.
There wasn't time before the next session to seek medical aid,
so Qui-Gon healed himself right there on the spot, without
bothering to try to straighten it."
I laughed. "You're right, it's embarrassing. No wonder he's
never said anything. I think he tries to hard to maintain that
infallible Jedi Master image, even with me." It was easier to
keep speaking about Qui-Gon in the present tense. He wasn't
dead, and it just didn't seem right to talk about him like he
was never going to be heard from again. The thought sent a wave
of chills down my spine, and I focused my attention on Mace's
ministrations to distract myself from a painful train of
thought.
During the short story, boots were slipped on over socks, and
crème colored tunics were layered on top of the first.
Still feeling chilled, and with my heavy cloak gone the way of
my singed tunics from the fight, I re-wrapped myself in the red
cloak.
Mace helped me out of the chair, and once again supported me
with an arm around the waist. It wasn't much more than a
standard year ago that Mace had last led me from an infirmary.
Qui-Gon had been off planet, and I'd been stricken with
Andolorian Influenza. Once the fever'd broken, Mace had dressed
me and walked me slowly home to finish my recovery out of the
noise of the healer's ward, and in the comfort of my own rooms.
Qui-Gon's Force signature imprinted on those quarters was more
a sense of home than the rooms themselves, and it was a great
balm to me, and gave me much comfort until Qui-Gon returned.
Mace was once again leading me back home, to Qui-Gon, only this
time, I was the one that would have to give comfort, as I once
more waited for Qui-Gon to return to me.
The Temple halls were dim, the lighting lowered to simulate
night that never actually happened on Coruscant. The city
planet never truly got dark; the lights from buildings cast an
eerie pallor over the metal surface of the world. I kept the
hood of my cloak raised, to avoid being disturbed by any of the
nocturnal Jedi that might also be prowling the halls.
It was a few hours past day turning, and I made my way down
the deserted halls to the Library, as I had done every night
for the two weeks we had been back at the Temple. My days I was
able to fill, to keep myself from dwelling on the growing
emptiness inside me. But at night, while I laid alone in the
bed in the room that had been mine before Qui-Gon and I were
lovers (for I couldn't bear to sleep in our bed alone), while I
forced myself to try to rest, the coldness threatened to
overwhelm me. I managed to catch a few hours of sleep every
night, which I supplemented with meditation.
I kept my hood raised to avoid being disturbed, and also to
keep anyone from seeing my face. I hadn't been eating well, and
my face was thin, my cheekbones much more prominent than they'd
ever been, even covered by the auburn beard I'd allowed to grow
out. Human male Padawans were expected to remain clean-shaven,
but no one had protested my divergence from tradition. My eyes
were shadowed, sunken slightly into pale skin. Though I
showered everyday, my hair had become dull, unhealthy looking.
I was surprised at how fast I was deteriorating.
My robes were looser, and getting more so everyday. I couldn't
force myself to eat, even though I knew I had to. A few bites
at each meal were all I could manage. I knew I had Mace and
Corra, and probably many others worried about me. They tried to
coax me into eating more, but there wasn't any way I could
swallow more than a few bites without feeling nauseous. I had
no explanation for it; I just accepted it.
If I wasn't with the trainees or in the Library, I was at
Qui-Gon's side. There was little I could do there, but I went
every day. Mostly I meditated, trying to recover what I wasn't
getting through the little sleep I managed every night, or
trying to get the Force to give me an answer on how to bring my
lover back to me. For two weeks, the Force had remained
stubbornly silent, without so much as a clue as to how to help
my soulmate.
So each night, I retreated to a dark corner of the Temple
Library to study everything I could get my hands on relating to
psychic shock and soulbonds. I spent my sleepless nights taking
notes, then cross referencing them, trying to put together a
better, clearer picture of what was taking place in Qui-Gon's
head, and in my own.
I settled myself in my secluded corner, where my books
remained piled on an ancient wooden table. I had made
arrangements with the head librarian to have my texts remain
undisturbed, so that I wouldn't have to find them every night.
Each night, I added more books to the stack, and was making a
pretty good dent in the archives' supply of information on the
topics I was interested in.
It was by pure luck, or maybe finally the will of the Force,
that I stumbled across an entry in an ancient tome that had
exactly the information I wanted. A text written over a
thousand years ago, it contained a story of a soulbonded pair,
and how one was able to use the bond to ease the other out of
the confines of psychic shock. I used the story to perform
another search through the vast archives, and came up with more
information of the same sort. One piece, a research paper,
proved to be particularly useful, full of statistics and
experiments that gave me some hope that there could be a way
for me to save my beloved.
I spent the rest of the early morning hours putting together a
plan and a presentation to take to the Healers. I knew they
would have to be convinced that this was something I could do,
but I was confident I could persuade them, confident they would
let me go ahead.
The healer in charge of Qui-Gon's case, a Master Healer named
Ker'val, a slight humanoid male, with pale purple translucent
skin and silver hair that was no indication of age, agreed to
meet with Mace, Yoda and I later that morning, but still early
in the day cycle. I returned to my rooms just long enough to
pull on some clean clothes and make myself presentable.
I arrived at the Healers Ward early, so that I could spend
some time with Qui-Gon. I was never sure if he could hear me,
but I talked aloud to him anyway. I told him the various antics
of the initiates I was working with, pieces of the Temple
gossip I'd managed to pick up on while wandering the halls,
anything I could think of so that if I wasn't meditating,
neither was I sitting in silence brooding. The morning of the
meeting, I outlined my plan to my lover, not getting a
reaction, not that I had expected one. I dropped into a light
meditative state while I waited, sure I was going to need to be
at my center for the conversation that was to take place.
I hadn't been drifting very long when a soft voice and a hand
on my shoulder brought me back. I looked up into the dark face
of Mace Windu, feeling a stab of shock and guilt when I
realized I hadn't hoped for it to be my Master.
"Obi-Wan?" he said. "Are you ready?"
"Yes, Master Mace," I answered, keeping my expression schooled
to neutral as I unfolded myself from my position on the floor.
I followed Mace into Ker'val's office. Yoda was already seated
in one of the chairs placed in front of the healer's desk. I
nodded a greeting and took the one farthest out, allowing Mace
to sit between us. We sat in silence for a few moments, no one
really sure where to begin. I had asked for the meeting, but I
was the most junior person in the room, and I didn't want to
presume.
"Well, Obi-Wan," Ker'val said finally, breaking the terse
silence. "You called this meeting. What's up?"
I pulled a lightslate from my robe and set it on my lap to use
a reference point. My notes were well organized, and I had a
pretty good idea of exactly what I wanted to say, but knowing
healers as well as I do, and Master Yoda in particular, there
were bound to be questions that I didn't have prepared answers
for.
I cleared my throat before I began. "I've been doing some
research, on soulbonds, and shock, and I came across something
interesting last night, which I've transferred a copy of to
your files, Healer Ker'val. I found a story in an old medical
journal of a case where one bonded partner fell into a state of
psychic shock, and the other partner was able to use the bond
to bring him out of it. Neither suffered any ill effects, and
their bond actually became the stronger for it.
"After some more digging through the archives, I found several
more such accounts, not all successful," I admitted. "Besides
just the personal accounts, most of which had been written up
for journals of various sorts, there was a research paper that
utilized all those accounts I had found, and more, to put
together a cohesive course of action for the recovery of a
bonded person in psychic shock, with calculated risks laid out
and explained, as well as what the recovery rate tended to be."
I stopped there to breathe, and prepare the next part, but
Ker'val jumped ahead of me, having pulled up the data while I
was speaking, but not taking the time to scroll through
it.
"Before we get into the details, what are the risks involved?"
he asked.
"There are positive and negative factors," I explained. "On
the one hand, the bond can become stronger, if both mates come
out of the procedure. Conversely, the bond can be severed, due
to any number of complications, such as one bondmate not
surviving, both falling into shock, and there was even a case
of the bond dissolving even after both mates were well." I was
very proud of how I delivered all of that information without a
tremor in my voice. My stomach was doing loops, though, in
reaction to the thought that I might want to do this.
"And the recovery rate?" Ker'val asked again. I wasn't too
surprised; it was his domain after all.
I took a breath. "For both partners, about twenty percent." A
pause. "The less time the one partner is comatose, the better
the chances," I said. Qui-Gon had been absent from my mind for
two weeks. There was only one reported successful recovery
after longer than a few days. I thought by not mentioning it, I
would remain optimistic.
"And what is the procedure, Obi-Wan?" Mace spoke up.
I scrolled down a bit on my lightslate, finding the relevant
information. "As we all know, victims of psychic shock retreat
into their own minds, trying to escape whatever pain it was
that was being inflicted. Most victims are those that are
tortured, usually both physically and mentally. It's a coping
mechanism, one that allows the body to live on while the mind
is protected and safe. Qui-Gon tried to shield from me as much
as possible after he was taken, but I think," I stumbled over
the words, "I'm pretty sure he was being tortured while he was
held." I hadn't yet had time to deal with the aftermath of that
mission. Not just the fact that my bondmate was essentially
gone, but that I had killed men, taken life, without the
support of my Master. When I got my mate back, there would be
time.
"When the victim is an unbonded person, it's relatively easier
for a healer to break down the strong shields and restore the
person's mind. However, bonds stronger than those between
Master and Padawan interfere with that process. Because of the
nature of soulbonds, what affects one bondmate, in some way
affects the other. Bonded victims of shock are not only
protecting themselves, but protecting their bondmate, and so,
only the bondmate can bring the victim back." I paused
again.
"Problems arise because of the nature of the procedure. I have
to be able to lower all my defenses in order to find the
slightest chink in Qui-Gon's mental armor. It puts me at the
most risk, since I'll be completely vulnerable to any kind of
mental attack. Once I find a way in to Qui-Gon's mind, I have
to guide him back, somehow assuring him that everything's fine,
and that it's okay to come back. It shouldn't be that difficult
here in the Temple, since we have the ability to shield us from
anything that might try to do us any harm while vulnerable," I
finished up, hoping I'd covered all the bases, and silently
begging the Force to let them see reason and let me do
this.
"Obi-Wan, will you wait outside a moment, please," Ker'val
asked.
Puzzled, but hoping it didn't show on my face, I nodded and
rose, showing myself out to the hallway. I waited perhaps for
ten minutes before the door opened again and I was urged
inside.
I resumed my seat, taking in the faces of the three waiting
for me. Mace didn't look happy, Ker'val seemed to be mildly
victorious, and Yoda, well, Yoda looked like Yoda.
"We've decided, Obi-Wan," Ker'val said, "to wait to let you
perform this 'procedure'."
"I'm sorry?" I asked, not fully understanding.
"We want some time to do some more research, before letting
you risk two lives for something that might not work," Ker'val
explained.
"We don't have time for more research," I said. "It's already
been two weeks."
"There is nothing here," Ker'val waved to his dataset, "that
indicates there would be anything wrong with waiting longer.
You never know, he might come out of it on his own."
I snorted. "I think we both know that isn't likely happen. The
reason he's in a coma, is because he doesn't think that I am
safe. I have to convince him of that, or," I couldn't even
finish the thought.
"Look," I said, after taking a breath and only barely
retaining any semblance of control and patience. "I'm just out
to save my bondmate," my better half, I didn't say aloud.
"We understand that," Ker'val explained. "But we can't let you
needlessly risk both of your lives."
Dammit, didn't they realize that this wasn't a life for me.
How to explain it so that they would understand? "It's not a
needless risk," I said as patiently as I could. "If I don't try
this," I took a deep breath to compose myself and bury the
omnipresent panic back in my mind. "If I don't do this, it's a
bigger waste of life than to let me try." I hoped my convincing
tone was enough, but from the looks on their faces, I could see
that it wasn't.
"Obi-Wan," Mace said softly.
I turned to look him in the eye.
"It's our opinion that you may be too, um, unstable," he
stumbled over the word, "to attempt this right now. Perhaps
with some guided meditation you can,"
"Fuck meditation," I cut him off, finally losing all
patience.
"You forget your place, Padawan," he almost growled deep in
his throat.
"No, Master Windu, you forget my place," I dared to say,
becoming formal in my challenge. I tried to ignore the amused
look on Yoda's face, and the one of horror on Healer Ker'val's.
"My place is with Qui-Gon." With that, I left my chair and
stalked out of the office.
I managed to control myself on the walk back to my rooms. Once
my door was firmly closed, shutting out the rest of the Temple,
I started cursing under my breath in every language I knew, and
a few I made up.
"Unstable," I snorted. "Of course I'm unstable-it feels like
half of me is missing, or at the very best, like there's a big
gaping hole in my mind," I muttered as I moved about the
kitchen preparing a pot of tea. "They won't let me do the one
thing that might be able to make me stable again."
I pulled my favorite glass mug from the cupboard and added tea
leaves from the glass jar Qui-Gon kept them in. "How dare they
say I have no right to risk our lives," I continued muttering.
"Surely even they can see that without Qui-Gon my life means
nothing. I'm just an empty shell. Better to let me risk my life
than go on like this."
But can you risk his life, just to save yours? a small voice
in the back of my head asked. "I have to try," I answered
aloud. "Dammit, I can't do this anymore!" I shouted. With my
outburst, I lost control, and the glass jar and my mug
shattered, as did the ceramic teakettle. I threw my arms up to
protect my face on instinct. I felt the glass cut into my
palms, my forearms and my chest. The boiling water impacted an
instant later.
I collapsed into a heap on the kitchen floor, sobbing with
pain and the decision I was forced to make.
I was willing to risk my own life, but what if Qui-Gon
survived and I didn't? He's stronger than I am, I tried to
convince myself, but I knew even my Master wouldn't be able to
cope with the gnawing emptiness that was slowly eating me
alive. I turned the question around in my mind. What if Qui-Gon
died? What if I couldn't save him? Could I go on like this?
Could I live out the rest of my life, empty and alone, working
in the crèche, finding my only solace with the children,
living only because my body didn't follow the other half of
it's soul? No, I told myself firmly through my tears. And
that's why I have to try. I couldn't go any longer feeling like
I did. Better to risk it all and die trying rather than to live
out my days a shell of my former self.
"Obi-Wan, what?" Mace's voice grabbed my attention. I hadn't
heard the door chime through my hysterics, and he must've used
the override code to get in.
I was still sobbing on the floor, though they had turned from
tears of despair to ones of relief as I realized the course I
had chosen was really the only one available. Through tear
filled eyes, I saw him kneel next to me, pulling out his
comlink to page the Healers. His call complete, he pulled me
gently into his arms, trying to calm me down as best he could.
I was exhausted, beyond caring. I could feel the pain in my
arms and chest, but it was distant. I don't know what Mace
said, or how long he held me. The last thing I remember is the
sound of bootsteps through my sobs, a tiny pinprick of pain,
and then blackness.
I woke slowly, not sure where I was. I tried to stretch, only
to find that I was restrained to the bed I was laying in. I
opened my eyes, blinking to clear the haze from my vision. I
recognized the ceiling of the infirmary from many past visits,
and I nearly groaned aloud. I turned my head slowly to the
left, and found Mace sitting patiently at my side.
"You're awake," he said. "We were worried about you."
"Why am I tied down?" I asked, not at all happy to be so.
There was a needle in my arm; I traced the tubing up to an iv
bag on a stand next to my bed.
Mace wasn't a Jedi Master for nothing. His face remained
absolutely impassive as he said, "The pattern of cuts on your
arms, led the healers to believe you tried to kill
yourself."
It took me a moment to parse that into regular speak. "The
healer's thought I tried to kill myself?" I asked
incredulously.
Mace nodded and looked me straight in the eyes. "You didn't,
did you?"
"Gods, no," I answered. "I lost control," I said softly. "The
teapot and glass in the kitchen shattered. I protected my face,
that's how my arms were cut up," I explained. It couldn't have
been too hard for the healing staff to come to the conclusion I
might try to end my life, especially given the conversation
with them all earlier in the day. "Mace, could you untie me?"
There was a soft pleading edge to my voice. I wasn't ready to
be restrained, not on top of my mental state. "You may think
I'm unstable, but I'm not suicidal, Mace please." Not suicidal
yet, I thought, then immediately repressed it. If I couldn't
succeed in my plan to save Qui-Gon, if I survived and he
didn't, I would reexamine that thought.
"I'm sorry, Obi-Wan," and I heard the genuine regret in his
voice. "I can't let you out of the restraints. The healers
don't want you out until they have a chance to evaluate
you."
There was an underlying sense of something in his voice, but
the thought of being restrained was blocking out almost
everything else. A plan formed, somewhere in my mind that still
functioned beyond the growing panic. Let the panic take over,
let the attack come. Master recently taught you how to channel
suggestions. Use that knowledge now. I let go of the tight
reign that I had kept on my panic for the two weeks since
Qui-Gon had fallen into shock.
The intensity of it scared me. My breathing became erratic,
short, heavy, not providing enough air. A fine sheen of sweat
broke out over my body, and I began to shake. I allowed my
surface thoughts to become staticy, and erratic, while
maintaining tighter shields over the deeper thoughts. "M-mace,
p-please let me out. I ca-can't take th-th-this now," I
stuttered through the shallow breaths I managed to draw into my
body. My arms and legs began to pull at their restraints.
"Let me out, let me out, let me out, let me out," I chanted,
as I pulled harder at the bindings on my arms and legs. There
would be bruises there I noted absentmindedly, so hard was I
trying to free myself.
I heard Mace floundering around at my side, trying to calm me,
without actually letting me out of my bonds. Even through the
chaos roiling through my mind, I felt the Master draw on the
Force. I felt the ghosting of air over my face as he waved his
hand, and issued the command to sleep.
I appeared to obey the command, slumping my body back into the
bed, forcing my breathing back to normal, actually, to the
slower rhythm of sleep. The command was channeled though my
body, allowing me to stop the motions that had been more
convincing than I wanted to admit. For long minutes I lay
perfectly still, the ideal example of how a Force compulsion
should work. I heard Mace take a step back, and then another,
until the doors swished open and closed again.
I waited a few more minutes until I dared to open my eyes. The
room I was in was empty. I heaved a small sigh of relief and
thanks, before struggling to sit as upright as possible while
still tied to the bed. I shielded myself tightly, so that any
probing inquiry would think that I was deep in slumber, while I
projected the same appearance to anyone passing by. I brought
the Force to bear on one of the restraints, freeing my right
hand. I was able to undo the rest of my bonds by hand, and I
sat for a moment, rubbing the circulation back into my limbs,
planning the next part of my "attack".
Still projecting and shielding, I cast out through the
surrounding area, searching for any presences. Mace is getting
sloppy, I thought. The person he'd left guarding my door was
one of the many non-Force sensitive support staff at the
Temple. A brief smile at my good fortune, I treaded as softly
as I could across the floor, barely making any noise. I stopped
just outside the door. Silent commands weren't my strong point,
so I concentrated extra hard to make sure it worked. Sleep, I
commanded, sleep for days.
The body outside the door crumpled. I darted out the door and
pulled the body inside my room. The Force was with me that day.
The man outside my door was human, my height, and with my color
hair. The hairstyle was slightly wrong, but with the covers
pulled up over his head, to anyone peaking in the door, it
would appear as though I was sleeping in the bed. I placed the
man in my bed, restraining him as I had been restrained, and
turned his head so that he was facing away from the door. Short
moments later, I was making my way through the infirmary to
where Master Qui-Gon rested.
Word apparently hadn't been passed around that I had had a
breakdown, which was surprising given the rate gossip
circulated the Temple. Either Mace was fighting to protect mine
and my Master's privacy, or my shields and projections were
much better than I thought. I suspected the former as I was
greeted with polite nods from the healing staff as I made my
way confidently to Qui-Gon's room.
I slumped slightly against the wall after I engaged the
privacy lock on the door. My days of not sleeping and under
eating were catching up to me, with all the clandestine efforts
I was going through. And the hardest part is still to come, I
thought, as I made my way to Qui-Gon's side.
Because I didn't have the approval I had sought, I was going
to have to perform the procedure to save Qui-Gon in a virtually
unshielded room. I was going to be the most as risk, but there,
inside the Temple, the likelihood of a mental attack was slim
to none. I was more worried about an impromptu query or massive
disturbance in the Force that would cause me to lose my grip on
my lover's mind, causing me to lose him forever.
I closed my eyes and steadied myself, taking several deep,
cleansing breaths. Relaxed, or as much as I could be, I focused
my gaze on the face of my beloved. Taking another deep breath,
I dropped all my shields, something I hadn't done very often,
and only in the process of strengthening the soulbond with
Qui-Gon.
Maintaining only the slimmest connection to myself, I launched
myself at Qui-Gon's mind, searching for the smallest chink in
his mental armor. It was a slow process, skimming over every
inch of the expansive shields, so much more well built than my
own; but then, he had about two decades more experience and
life behind him than I did. Time lost all meaning as I
searched. Endless moments, or hours later, I found it.
A miniscule breach, a proverbial pinprick on a dartboard, just
the smallest flow of emotion as I passed over alerted me to its
presence. I focused all my energies on it, letting go of
everything but the small connection to myself. I envisioned
myself a small tendril, weaving my way into that tiny
breach.
I found myself in a luscious green valley, overlooked by a
wondrous snow capped mountain range. A waterfall spilled into a
pool, which fed into a river that streamed away. A large ringed
moon hung just over the horizon. At the edge of the pool lay my
lover, stretched out on a blanket, a picnic basket not far from
the side. As I drew closer, I saw that a spread of all our
favorites had been laid out.
Qui-Gon was dressed in his most comfortable outfit,
calf-length pants and an open vest over his bare chest. He was
barefooted, and his hair was let loose to show all of it's
luxurious length, falling to almost his waist. He looked up
expectantly, hearing my approach.
I looked down as I made my way toward my lover. My Jedi robes
had transformed into an outfit similar to Qui-Gon's;
lightweight pants, the hems ending atop bare ankles, and a spun
shirt, open at the top, with the tail tucked in. I watched my
lover's smile widen as I drew closer to where he sat.
"Obi-Wan," he sighed, extending his hand when I reached the
edge of the blanket. "I've been waiting for you."
"Have you been waiting long?" I asked, taking a seat on the
quilt that looked exactly like the one on our bed in the
Temple.
The look of puzzlement was gone almost before I recognized it.
"No, I don't think so," he answered me.
"Why are you waiting for me, love?" I asked gently, sitting
still, not making any approaches.
"It's safe here," was the reply. "No one trying to hurt
us."
I found it oddly disconcerting that my Master had reverted to
a childlike state. "Don't you want to go home? I think you've
been waiting a long time."
Qui-Gon shook his head. "No. It's not safe there. This is the
only safe place."
Force, I thought. I knew it wasn't going to be easy, but this
is ridiculous. "What if I promised you it was safe?"
"No one can make that promise."
There was going to need to be some serious recovery time
needed when we got out of the situation we were in. "Will you
come with me? Can I show you that we are out of danger, that no
one is trying to hurt us? Can you trust me?"
"Obi-Wan, I trust you with my life." For an instant, my lover
was back, then was quickly replaced by the childlike man again.
"Okay," he shrugged.
We stood, and I took his hand, preparing to go back to my
body, and restore Qui-Gon to his rightful state. "Trust me,
everything is going to be fine." I focused all my energy
towards breaking down Qui-Gon shields from the inside. I
projected image after image of us being safe in the Temple.
Long walks in the gardens, quiet time in our quarters, laughing
with the initiates, a nice dinner with our closest friends. I
sent waves of positive emotion outwards. Love, trust, strength,
caring, happiness, pride; they all accompanied the images I
flashed about us.
I felt the shields start to crumble under my assault, and felt
the grip on the hand I held loosen as Qui-Gon was restored back
to his normal state. Thankfully, part of him realized I was
still intimately linked with his mind, and he didn't slam his
shields up. With a mental caress, I backed out of my lovers
mind, and felt oddly heavy as I felt myself return to my own
body.
There was an odd pressure on my hand when consciousness
started to trickle in. And something was pressed up against my
back, something warm and solid. A hard rounded object was
pressed to the top of my head, but not painfully so. I opened
my eyes slowly, blinking back grittiness. My eyes tracked down
my own body. A large arm that didn't appear to belong to be was
draped across my bare chest, the hand at the end of it entwined
with one of my own. I was wearing my own sleep pants, which
meant I either wasn't at the infirmary, or I was in the
infirmary, and in for a good long while if they weren't
dressing me in hospital gowns.
I tried to pull away from the arm that held me, just enough so
I could turn to face the someone pressed up against my back,
but as I moved, the arm tightened with a soft murmur very near
to my ear, not letting me go anywhere. Content with the warmth,
and the idea of security, I closed my eyes and drifted back to
sleep, letting the exhaustion of the past weeks win out over
curiosity.
The next time I woke, it was to a gentle caress. A rough, but
light touch was ghosting over my face, tracing over my
forehead, my nose, my eyes, lips, cheeks. The beard was
avoided, but the touches continued. I saw a blunt thumb
stroking my cheekbone slowly out of the bottom of my eye. As
greater awareness crept upon me, I realized I was still
enfolded in the large arm, and pressed against something warm,
solid, and protective.
In small increments, I turned over, to face the something
holding me close. I gazed up the broad, tanned chest, the
smooth neck, the unkept brown beard peppered with gray. The
thin lips, the embarrassingly broken nose, and the blue eyes,
so deep I could lose myself in them. The blue eyes I was never
sure I would see again, were open, and looking at me. Those
lips that I thought I might never hear pass another word. The
beard that I felt would never scratch its way down my body,
followed by soothing kisses.
I tore my eyes away from the depths of Qui-Gon's and turned my
face into his chest and cried. I cried for the lives I had
taken back on Trelias. I cried for the joy of having my Master,
my lover, my soulmate back in my life. I cried for the man I
had restrained to save my Qui-Gon. I cried for the worry and
anguish I had put my friends through over the last couple
weeks. And overall, I cried for myself.
The empty hole that had threatened to consume me was suddenly
filled with a myriad of emotions. Love, fear, thankfulness,
happiness, guilt, pride, contentment, more love, more guilt.
Large callused hands were tracing circles on my bare back, and
soft comforting words were whispered into my ear. Through my
sobs, I could only isolate a few words.
"Love...sorry, so sorry...never meant...leave...sorry...love
you, love you."
It wasn't your fault, I wanted to say. You have nothing to be
sorry for. I know you didn't do it on purpose. Not your fault,
not your fault. You came back, that's all that matters. All
that matters now is that you came back to me, you are here and
we are together.
"Together forever, love," Qui-Gon whispered in my ear. "Always
and forever."
//You, you heard me?// I asked mentally, the sobs abating
somewhat.
I felt Qui-Gon's nod. //Yes, my Obi-Wan. You weren't
sending?//
"No." Through the Master/Padawan bond, as with soulbonds,
telepathy was possible, if the bond was strong enough, and the
pair projected to each other. But Qui-Gon had read my thoughts.
Something that wasn't possible, not with the shielding we
maintained, unless...I laughed through the tears that hadn't
stopped.
[What's wrong? Oh, Force, he's lost it] "Obi-Wan?"
I continued to laugh as I clearly heard Qui-Gon's thoughts as
he'd heard mine. I knew exactly what had happened. //Search the
bond, beloved// I sent.
I felt him search. I could feel Qui-Gon reach across the
tendril of the Force that linked us together, forever
inseparable, permanently intertwined, two souls as one for the
rest of eternity. Even when we were at our strongest and most
focused, the soulbond hadn't that amount of clarity.
[A lifebond?] the thought flittered across my lover's mind and
I laughed at the pure awe in the question.
//Yes, Qui-Gon// I answered him, dragging my face out of the
crook of his neck and looking him in the eyes once more. //Now
we are truly together forever//
//My Obi-Wan// he sighed. //Where one of us goes, the other
will follow. I do love you, with all that I am//
//And I you, my Qui-Gon// I pulled myself up slightly and
kissed him. A long slow passionate life-affirming kiss. His
hands found his way into my hair, which was a little longer
than normal since I hadn't had time to cut it in the recent
past. My hands lingered on Qui-Gon's broad chest, soaking up
the heartbeat that pulsed steadily under my palms.
The kiss deepened and lengthened as my tongue explored my
lover's mouth thoroughly. I felt the ridges on the roof of his
mouth, the small indentations where wisdom teeth had been a few
years before, the chipped tooth from a fall down a ravine while
we escaped for our lives. We finally pulled apart to breathe,
but I continued to rain soft kisses over my beloved's face,
rememorizing the familiar features.
I nibbled my way down Qui-Gon's neck, kissing, biting softly,
nuzzling the soft beard. He has a particularly sensitive spot
on his neck, just below his Adam's apple, just above the hollow
in his neck. I sucked a passion mark into existence there,
listening to the contented moans just above my ears, feeling
the soft fluctuating breathing of my lover in my hair.
Qui-Gon's hands had moved from my head to my back as I made my
way down his body. He petted, stroked, scratched lightly, up
and down my bare back as I wreaked my own special kind of havoc
on his chest. He left bruises on my ribcage when I reached his
nipples and began to lave them, one at a time, bringing them to
rosy peaks. I took delight in hearing the big man below me moan
as the nipples pebbled again under the tail of my Padawan
braid. I continued to nip, nibble, kiss, lick my way down
Qui-Gon's expansive torso. I laved his belly button gently,
enjoying the way he squirmed beneath me.
As I moved my way down Qui-Gon's body, I drew myself onto my
knees, so that I was no longer resting my full weight on my
Master. I stretched myself back up to claim another kiss, and
heard matching moans, Qui-Gon's deeper one paired with mine as
our erections brushed together. Qui-Gon pulled me into him for
that kiss, his hands back in my hair forcing me in closer, as
if he was trying to devour me. I was mildly surprised that he
didn't try to turn the tables, that he didn't try to take the
lead; instead he let me pull back and continue my
seduction.
I once again kissed my way back down his smooth chest, making
sure I didn't miss a millimeter of skin between both passages.
I kept going, past his navel, into the soft trail of hair
leading up from his groin. I remembered hearing it once called
a "treasure trail". Treasure indeed, I thought, and heard
Qui-Gon's answering laughter as he picked up on that
thought.
Using only my teeth, I drug his sleep pants down, careful to
not snag on his glorious straining erection. Keeping hold of
the waistband in my teeth, I pulled the pants completely off,
dropping them off the end of the bed. The offending garment
removed, I kissed my way back up, paying special attention to
his toes, taking each one in my mouth, a preview of what was to
come. The small grunts and moans above me grew more intense,
more needy as I drew closer to Qui-Gon's weeping cock.
I ran my tongue up and down the length of his shaft, first
along the top, and then the underside, breathing in the heady
scent of his musk, his passion for me. I drew each of his
testicles into my mouth, rolling each around on my tongue as
one might when sampling a fine wine before accepting a glass
full. Turning my attention back to Qui-Gon's penis, I took just
the tip of it into my mouth, swirling the tip with my tongue,
savoring the slightly bitter flavor of the clear fluid leaking
from the tip. Without warning to Qui-Gon, I swallowed him to
the root, relaxing my throat as far as I could, to take all of
his massive length. I sucked gently, and then more urgently,
applying greater suction. I growled low in my throat, the
sensation producing a matching growl from my lover. I took his
balls in hand and played with them as I sucked. I heard a soft
"Obi-Wan," as I felt the globes in my hand pebble with
impending release.
With a small amount of regret, I released Qui-Gon's cock from
my mouth, and crouched back on my heels. I wanted to give him
release, really, but I wanted us to have it together, together
in that as in all things.
//Yes, love, together// Qui-Gon said mentally as he picked up
on my thoughts.
I smiled, thankful for his understanding, and pulled off my
own pants quickly, hissing as the cooler air hit my own
neglected member.
Qui-Gon remained on his back, so I pushed his knees up, almost
so they touched his chest, and I once again found my head
between Qui-Gon's legs. I put my tongue back to use, probing my
lover's most private of entrances, preparing him for my entry.
While I was doing that, I drew my arm back up his body, teasing
nipples once again, brushing against the fresh love mark at the
base of his throat. My wrist was caught in a large hand, and
drawn to Qui-Gon's mouth. Kisses and nips were placed on my
palm, and my fingers were sucked into his hot mouth. He
moistened them for me, in a credible reproduction of my earlier
performance on his cock. I moaned and shivered in
delight.
I pulled my fingers from his mouth slowly, letting him place a
soft kiss on their tips before I replaced my tongue with them.
One finger pushed it's way slowly into the puckered opening,
already moist with my saliva. I wiggled it gently, loosening
the ring of muscle. I pushed that one finger as far in as I
could, searching for that one spot, and watched in delight as
hips surged up when my finger brushed across the hidden gland.
Another finger was added, scissoring to stretch my lover,
readying him for me.
With my free hand I slicked some of my own fluids over my
aching cock, the only lube we had available to us. Adjusting
Qui-Gon's legs, I pulled my fingers out of him, and scooted
closer to him, the blunt head of my erection just at his
entrance. I pushed gently, not wanting to hurt my lover, but
sensing a growing urgency from both of us, I did not go too
slowly. I stopped moving for a moment after I was inside him,
relishing the feel of being inside. But I felt something else.
Through our deeper connection, the new bond, I had the sense of
being filled, as I was sure Qui-Gon probably had the additional
sense of being sheathed in the same tight heat I was.
I withdrew a bit, and thrust into my lover, creating a circle
of pleasure between the two of us. It was an overwhelming
sensation, feeling everything at once, of taking and being
taken. Qui-Gon's deep moans mixed with my slightly higher ones
as my thrusts grew deeper, longer strokes driving us both
closer to the edge, the threshold of pleasure-pain. Qui-Gon
shifted minutely beneath me, changing the angle of my thrusts
just slightly. My rhythm grew more frantic, more desperate. We
were close, I could feel it. I extended my mind to Qui-Gon's
and with one last thrust, we melded completely, through shared
orgasm, each riding the waves of the other's pleasure, our
lives, minds, souls, becoming permanently intertwined with the
sharing of energy, the intense emotional connection between
us.
Spent, I slumped forward, my head coming to rest on Qui-Gon's
sticky belly, my softening member slipping from him. Like
Twills did with her cream, a felinoid my Master'd once rescued
and to which I had been highly allergic, I lapped up the spill
of my Master's seed from his stomach, and leaned up to share a
kiss with Qui-Gon, letting him taste his seed mixed with my own
flavor, something I knew he enjoyed immensely. Sated, I curled
up in my lover's embrace, where'd I woken not more than an hour
before, tucking my head in the niche between his neck and
shoulder, savoring the soft gasp as my hair brushed the tender
mark on his throat.
A blanket found it's way over the top of us, and as I snuggled
in to nap I realized, I had found my lover, the other half of
my soul. Never again would I have to endure the empty coldness
that had threatened to take away my sanity, and maybe my life.
I could sleep again, safe and warm in the arms of my beloved,
and dream good dreams, not having to worry that the panic and
fear would overwhelm me as I slept. Yes, I thought as oblivion
beckoned. Even heroes have the right to dream.
Superman
Five for Fighting
I can't stand to fly
I'm not that naïve
I'm just out to find
The better part of me
I'm more than a bird, I'm more than a plane
More than some pretty face beside a train
It's not easy to be me
Wish that I could cry
Fall upon my knees
Find a way to lie
About a home I'll never see
It may sound absurd, but don't be naïve
Even Heroes have the right to bleed
I may be disturbed, but you won't concede
Even Heroes have the right to dream
It's not easy to be me
Up, up and away, away from me
It's all right, you can all sleep sound tonight
I'm not crazy, or anything
I can't stand to fly
I'm not that naïve
Men weren't meant to ride
With clouds between their knees
I'm only a man in a silly red sheet
Digging for kryptonite on this one way street
Only a man in a funny red sheet
Looking for special things inside of me
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