Series: Um. Sorta. First part of something. Notes: Why can't I
ever write anything short? C/C appreciated. and yes, I know I'm
insane, why do you ask? blah blah denotes dream
sequence(s), blah blah denotes thoughts. Probably before
TPM. No spoilers so far. Safe to read. Um...at least in terms
of spoilers. Warnings: Angst. LOTS of angst. And implied rape.
And pain. The usual. Archive: Um. If you really want to...
On to the story.
It was the dream again. The terrible, roiling dream of terror
and pain that left him raw and vulnerable.
It's dark, but the lights are blinking above. Far
above...I'm on Coruscant. But down, below the higher passages,
and far from the Jedi Temple.
Too far.
A noise beside me...be on guard, Obi-Wan. Don't lose yourself.
Fear's the dark path. Careful...there's someone-no, some
ones-here. Nearby. Their minds are muddled, misty and drunk.
Clatter of glass.
My hand to my side-the lightsabre, my trusted weapon,
gone.
Foolish Padawan. No lightsabre, no blaster.
Movement behind me. I turn and-no one's there. Wha-
Hands like talons grip me from behind, hurl me down. Crack of
skull on pavement, splash of red, hazy black-I turn back, to
look...my attacker is huge, massive-taller even than my master.
The talons are poised. His face is hidden.
And he is not alone. My fear grips me, too late do I sense two
forms behind me. They strike me, bind me, strike me again. I
barely feel my clothes tugged from my body. I know what will
happen, always. Forced down, on elbows and knees, I brace for
the agony, and somehow I'm never prepared because the pain
comes and I scream, I scream and blood runs from my mouth,
drips down my chin and neck, stains the paving beneath me
scarlet, and I scream, and scream and scream and it never
ends....
And I scream.
"Yeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarh!" Obi-Wan's howl sliced brutally
through the cold-dark silence, and Qui-Gon snapped into
wakefulness. He grasped the flailing body beside him, trying to
pin the younger man down, lying on him with almost his full
weight.
Obi-Wan stared up at him, his blue eyes full of dazed panic.
His breath came short and sharp, punctuated by soft whimpering
noises. He had stopped struggling physically, but the terror in
his mind beat at Qui-Gon like a whip-lash.
"Obi-Wan," he said, a little too sharply than he'd intended.
Obi-Wan blinked, looking about, blinked again. Though for a
moment.
"M-m-master?"
Relief flooded through the elder. "Yes, it's me." The terror
had ebbed now, though it still hurt, and Qui-Gon could feel his
Padawan's rapid pulse beneath his hands. He relaxed his grip,
settling down with his arms still around Obi-Wan. The younger
man turned his face into Qui-Gon's shoulder, pressing as close
to his master as he could get. Qui-Gon rubbed his back gently,
feeling Obi-Wan's mind calming slowly.
"M-m-master....h-h-hurt...p-p-please d-don't..." Confusion
slithered like a serpent through the youth's mind, cold and
scaly. The master felt his charge's tears, hot and wet on his
bare flesh, felt those young shoulders shake with the memory of
unspeakable agony.
"Shh...be calm, padawan." I am here for you, please don't be
scared. "What hurts?"
"Hurt." A miserable croak. Memories sifted through Obi-Wan's
mind, black charging shapes, a huge creature whose face
remained unseen. And pain. That memory came on so powerfully
that Qui-Gon was forced to block for a minute. "T-the d-d-dark
ones.....hurt." Even with memories and speech combined, Qui-Gon
could make no sense.
"Shh, Obi-Wan. I am here, be calm...sleep." I won't let them
hurt you. He rubbed Obi-Wan's bare back in a steady
pattern, lulling him into a deep sleep through a combination of
physical and mental presence. Perhaps, in the morning, he
will be able to talk...
With that thought, Qui-Gon as well slept, still holding his
young Padawan close, in body and mind.
The next morning, Qui-Gon awoke to find Obi-Wan gone. He closed
his eyes and reached out through the force, searching for his
lover's familiar presence. He found it, not far away, on the
balcony off their room. He sensed in it a deep, cutting anguish
that cut him as well. He winced in sympathy. Climbing out of
bed and pulling on his robe, he started to the balcony, still
keeping in contact with Obi-Wan's presence-
And then, abruptly, he felt their connection broken. Not
severed, but blocked somehow. Purposely.
He ducked out onto the balcony, glancing around, seeing his
apprentice standing at the far end, looking out over the lush,
green landscape of Handu. Qui-Gon wished he had not blocked
their connection-it would've been easier that way.
"Obi-Wan?" he asked, taking a careful step forward. No reply.
"Obi-Wan? What's wrong?"
After a long time, the youth managed a tight reply. "Nothing,
Master. I'm fine."
Qui-Gon frowned. The tension in Obi-Wan's voice belied his
pain. "Padawan-please." 'You're hurting, please...tell me
what's wrong...' he half-prayed.
Obi-Wan turned to face him, gripping hard the balcony's railing
to stay his trembling. His eyes were dark with controlled hurt.
"M-master, nothing's wrong." He could not stop the faint tremor
of his voice, and knew it. Qui-Gon gave him a sympathetic look,
crossing the distance between them in a few long strides.
For several long moments-too long, for Qui-Gon's tastes-both
were silent. Obi-Wan felt his already shaky control breaking
under the pressure of his master's gaze.
"Tell me." Not a question. Qui-Gon laid both hands on his
Padawan's shoulders, feeling the muscle tremble under the
robe's tough cloth.
That did it. Obi-Wan could no longer control the overwhelming
feelings of anguish and darkness that were engulfing his mind.
He opened his mouth, trying to say something, and all that came
out was a thin, pained whimper. He collapsed into his master's
arms, much the same as he had the night before, crying
fiercely. The block broke as well, and Qui-Gon was faced with
almost the full brunt of his young lover's pain. The flickering
memories were the same, but their emotions stronger, more
certain and defined. Still painful as Sith-hell, though.
"Shh, Padawan. It's all right." So what if he-they-knew that
wasn't true? What else could he said. "It's all right." He ran
his hands up and down Obi-Wan's back, trying in vain to soothe
him.
"N-no, it's n-n-not a-all r-right." Obi-Wan whispered into his
master's chest.
Qui-Gon tightened his arms around the young man, holding him as
close as he could, kissing the top of his head gently.
"M-m-master..." Obi-Wan moaned softly. The hurt cut like a
knife at Qui-Gon's soul, but he blocked it out, concentrating
simply on his apprentice.
"Shh. Come on, then," slowly, Qui-Gon walked back to their
room, half-carrying Obi-Wan, setting him down on the edge of
their bed. He knelt before him, watching his shoulders shudder
as he took a deep breath. He looked up at his master.
The pure torment in those eyes took Qui-Gon by surprise. Yes,
he had known Obi-Wan was hurt, but he had certainly not
expected this. This was just to much for one person-even a Jedi
in training-to bear. Still, even though nearly every part of
him-mind and body-ached to take his apprentice in his arms, to
hold him close and protect him always, he simply held Obi-Wan
by the shoulders and met his gaze.
"It h-hurts." His voice, like his eyes, was full of misery.
Qui-Gon let his own sympathy flow across their link and into
Obi-Wan's consciousness. "What hurts, Padawan?"
"I-It..." his voice trailed off, and his eyes seemed to lock on
some distant point far beyond Qui-Gon.
The master felt Obi-Wan's force presence drop away alarmingly.
"Padawan?" his said. When he got no response, he shook the
youth's shoulders slightly. This time, he did get a reaction.
Obi-Wan's mouth moved, as if to form words, but no sound came
out. His presence had returned, but it felt cold somehow,
tainted.
"Urk..." a low croak came from the young man's throat.
Qui-Gon's brow furrowed. They had much to do
today-ambassadorial duties and such. But there was no way he
could bring Obi-Wan into that when he was in this state, was
there? He was jerked from his thoughts as Obi-Wan's young body
tensed and convulsed suddenly. He shivered, pulling in on
himself, away from Qui-Gon, curling up in a ball on the bed.
Qui-Gon laid a hand on his forehead, gently. He jerked it back
when he found it almost burning. He frowned again. Obi-Wan
shuddered convulsively. Qui-Gon sighed and shook his head. He
could not take Obi-Wan with him, and nor was he going to leave
him alone like this. Not even with the Handu, however skilled
they might be in healing.
He stood, crossing the room to the com unit on the far wall. He
tapped a few keys on it, and the screen blipped to life with an
image of a rather feline alien. Long, cocked ears, short, dark
fur except for a high red-brown crest on it's forehead, gold
eyes and a slightly open muzzle.
"Good morning, Asabe." The prime-minister's assistant nodded
her head in greeting, mouth open in a Handu version of a smile.
"A well morrrning to you as well, sssair Jedi," Asabe purred,
flicking her ears at him. "May I help you?"
"I wish to speak with the Prime Minister...on the subject of
our talks this morning." A soft moan came from behind him, and
Qui-Gon glanced nervously back at his protÈgÈ,
still lying on the bed and shivering.
"Ah...verrrry well, ssssair Jedi." One ear dipped, and Asabe's
expression was a mix of unease and curiousity. "If you will
wait a minute?"
He nodded courteously. "Of course."
True to her word, in about a minute the Prime Minister appeared
on the screen. His fur was a tawny color, his crest a ruddy
red-brown. His face was broader than Asabe's, and two sharp
fangs peaked from beneath his black upper lip. His ears were
notched as well, and his muzzle scarred.
"Ssssair Jedi. Hunt's luck."
"Hunt's luck, Lord Rohan." He nodded again.
The minister flicked ears back, then laid them forward. "My
assistant tells me you wish to speak with me, about the talks?"
"Yes...Lord Rohan, you see...my apprentice has fallen rather
ill, and I don't wish to leave him alone."
"I could appoint a healerrrr, Sssair Jedi." Rohan frowned,
laying his ears back, his crest back as well.
"With all due respect, Lord Rohan, and no disrespect to your
healers, this is something I'd like to deal with-" he was cut
off by a sharp cry from Obi-Wan, and winced involuntarily. "I
wish to deal with myself."
Rohan's crest and ears rose in surprise, for he had heard the
cry as well. Sympathy played on his features. The Handu were a
very compassionate people, very social. "I underrrsstand,
sssair Jedi. If he isss well, purrrhaps we sshall sspeak
tommorrrow, eh?"
"Yes-if he is well." Qui-Gon nodded.
"Verrry well. I leave you to yourrrr charge." Rohan waved a
powerful, talon-like paw, relieving Qui-Gon of any obligation
for now.
"Thank you, Lord Rohan." Qui-Gon nodded, and ended the
transmission. Qui-Gon turned back to the bed to find Obi-Wan
watching him silently, his expression still stricken, his body
trembling. Qui-Gon crossed to him, laid an arm across his
shoulders.
"I will be here for you, Padawan. Don't be frightened." Obi-Wan
nodded slightly, and Qui-Gon bent to kiss him gently on his
still-hot forehead. Please, don't ever be frightened.
"It's hot," Obi-Wan whispered softly. And, to him, it was.
Qui-Gon noticed that his robe was soaked with sweat, and his
close-cropped hair plastered to his scalp. His face was
flushed, and Qui-Gon knew all too well that he must have a
fever. Carefully, gently, he undressed his Padawan, covering
him with a light blanket. Not long after did Obi-Wan slip into
an uncomfortable, fevered sleep, watched over carefully by
Qui-Gon, true to his word.
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