Obi-wan Kenobi stared out from their rooms in the Palace, over
the city, out past the green valley, to the mountains. It had
been ten years since he had first stood at this balcony door,
still excited to have been chosen as Padawan, braid barely long
enough to touch his shoulder. He looked over his shoulder into
the room. In the sunset it all looked red gold, but there was
color there, carefully placed where candlelight would pick it
up. There was food in the oven, just beginning the aroma that
would fill the room soon enough. It was ready. He was ready.
His gaze went back to the mountains, breathing in the sweet
air. Ten years ago, Qui-gon had set him down on that sofa
behind him. Explained what he was about to be a part of in
words he could understand. "We'll be going into the mountains
and it will be cold, so take the furs they've provided. For the
first part of the ceremony we'll be together. For the second
part, you'll stand alone. Keep your hood up. You don't need to
watch, just stand there."
"Why don't you want me to watch, Master?"
Qui-gon had not answered directly. "You understand the
situation?"
"The Yalens and the Trevans have been at war for a long time.
The Trevans have won and we came here to officiate at the
signing of the Treaty." He had almost chanted the words.
"That's the first part of the ceremony. The second part deals
with a sacrifice."
Obi-wan had gone pale.
Qui-Gon's rumble of laughter made him feel a little better.
"Not a death sacrifice, my young Padawan. A sacrifice of a
different kind. The Yalens will offer 'the light' of their
race, a young noble person. The Trevans want to show that now
the war is over, they do not require such a sacrifice."
"So they will turn the sacrifice down?" Obi-wan was trying to
understand.
"Yes, and no. They will not personally take the sacrifice.
Instead they will offer the nobleperson to the one who stands
in the middle. That will be me."
Obi-wan sensed great import in those words, but did not
comprehend the true meaning. It had taken him years to see the
full picture. Now he stood in the doorway, trying to place the
exact spot in the mountains where they had gone that night.
They had been part of a long line of people who were singing,
carrying boughs of strange blossoms, and behind them had been
drummers. It was easy to slip into the Force, becoming one with
that rhythm. Constant training had given him stamina, and the
climb was easy.
They came to a rounded, dipped area, and he followed Qui-gon to
the center where a huge fire burned. The blossom boughs were
added to the fuel and the smoke rose with sparks, a heady,
sweet scent filling the air.
The two leaders, Yalen and Trevan, were signing the Treaty on a
long, waist high, smooth rock. They clasped arms, smiling at
each other. The people cheered. Then silence fell, and a young
man, clad only in a white silky looking skirt, his hands tied
loosely with a white cord, was led forward by the leader of the
Yalens. Obi-wan knew now that the sacrifice was the Yalen
prince, Tanen, the leader's oldest child. He was a few years
older than Obi-wan, tall and lean and muscular. Beautiful in
the firelight.
The cord was handed to the leader of the Trevans, who bowed
deeply. He touched the face of the sacrifice, pushing back
Tanen's hair, and complimented the Yalens' on the virtue and
beauty of their youth. Then he handed the cord on to Qui-gon,
who lifted up the tied hands and used the Force to release the
cord. It fell to the ground and the young man stood with his
hands apart, signifying freedom.
Obi-wan now understood, though at the time, he had been aware
that the meaning was beyond him. Tanen was free, therefore it
was HIS choice to do what he did next. He had turned to the
Jedi and reached out his arms. Qui-gon accepted the gesture and
pulled Tanen into the warmth of his robe, symbolic
protectiveness. He had also said something in the young man's
ear, and Obi-wan had seen the half-smile quirk on Tanen's face.
The bond he had with Qui-gon radiated only serenity.
Then Qui-gon turned Tanen and the young man lay on his stomach.
Obi-wan shut his eyes. He had not been smart enough to shut
them at the time. He had seen it all. He had seen his Master,
with the gentleness only the truly strong could engender, as he
lifted aside Tanen's white skirt, opened his own robe, and had
slowly taken the length in his hand and pushed it into the
Yalen sacrifice. He was concentrating on Tanen and Obi-wan had,
without thinking about it, joined peripherally, through his
link with his Master. It was all feeling. Reassurance, lack of
pain, protection, and a strand of something else that had
eluded recognition then.
He knew it for what it was, now. Lust.
In front of him a simple ornament skidded into sudden life and
smashed into powder. Obi-wan made a face and took a breath. He
had to learn to control his emotions. He was certainly better
at them now than he had been, but sometimes his strength in the
Force got away from him. His room in the Temple was pretty much
empty these days, because ornaments always got the vent of his
emotion.
He should have withdrawn from the link, but it was still too
new, and he didn't know how. And, if truth be told, he didn't
really want to. Ten years and he still remembered. Tanen had
accepted the entry into his virginal channel, had responded to
being taken with actual enjoyment. Qui-Gon's face was sweat
drenched in the cold. Massive control. Encouragement. Awareness
centered only on Tanen, the feel of his body. The tight hot
touch clenching him deeper. Lust.
Obi-wan turned away from the balcony. The sun had set. Dinner
was almost ready. He used Force to light the first candle. Any
time now, Qui-gon. Any time.
Obi-wan sat on the sofa and ran one hand over the area beside
him. Soft. He could feel the texture. It was the same. They had
come back to these rooms, he'd sat right here, running his hand
over this pattern, as Qui-gon first paced, then crouched in
front of him. His Master was not angry. But he was concerned.
"You should not have done this, Obi-wan. There are times when
our bond should not be used."
Obi-wan hung his head. "I'm sorry, Master. I didn't mean..."
"I know." Huge hands cradled his head, messed his hair. "I
know."
Then he had been wrapped in that robe, held, protected. The
other thing, the one Obi-wan had not understood, was not there.
And here they were. Ten years. Back for another ceremony. No
sacrifice this time, instead the marriage of the two tribes,
Yalen and Trevan, with the life bonding of Tanen and the middle
son of the Trevan council chief, Cathian. It was a love match,
and no one could doubt it, seeing them together. It was not
overt. It was in the subtle way they gravitated toward each
other. The odd look that shared. They had been friends since
they were placed together in the tribes' joined armies, bunked
together. Could the two sides fight together? Yes.
Obi-wan lit a second candle with the Force, one finger barely
flicking. The ceremony the night before had been one of the
most sacred things he had ever witnessed. He stood there next
to Qui-gon, letting the words wash over him, head bowed. They
wore scarlet, Tanen and Cathian, and at the celebration after,
they could be picked out in the crowd, apart and together,
always coming back to each other. He had seen Qui-gon with
Tanen at one point. They were laughing and Qui-Gon's hand was
on his shoulder. Obi-wan had turned away. He was drinking just
a little bit more than he should. The concoction was bubbly and
ticked his nose.
A voice said in his ear, "And why are you celebrating alone?"
It was Tanen, shining, over the moon.
"Congratulations." Obi-wan smiled at him.
"What are you afraid of?"
"I'm sorry, I don't understand."
"My mother says that people in love can recognize like kind."
Tanen said softly. He was waving at someone across the room,
but his words were for Obi-wan alone. More than startled,
Obi-wan retreated into Jedi mystery and did not respond.
"When I knew I loved Cat, I set out to win him. One night.
Everything perfect - candles, food, drink. I told him I loved
him, and then I made him believe it." Tanen shrugged. "I didn't
think Jedi felt fear."
"Do not believe everything you hear."
"Never."
Obi-wan glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. He was no
longer the beautiful sacrifice. Willing sacrifice, bent over
the altar with Qui-Gon's hard cock inside him. He was a grown
man, hardened by time and experience. Handsome now, with laugh
lines, eyes that smiled. Eyes that somehow understood. Tanen
said, "You are afraid that if you let him know how you feel,
you will lose what you have now, which is better than nothing
at all."
Obi-wan shivered, but didn't answer.
"It will eat at you. Not the love. The not knowing." Tanen
leaned over the balcony, acknowledging someone. "He's worth
more than that, don't you think? On second thought, quit
thinking. Just feed him and fuck him."
With that, Tanen was gone.
Obi-wan patted the sofa once more. The wine was chilled, the
savory smell of cooking filled the room. He lit a third candle.
A fourth. Anytime now, Qui-gon. Any time.
A bit later, as he carefully added some spices to the gently
bubbling Anterian chicken sauce, Obi-Wan reflected that he
would not be here, taking Tanen's advice, putting his
suggestion into action at all, were it not for a conversation
with Qui-Gon earlier in the day, after a strange breakfast. The
wedding feast had been followed by the happy couple departing
for a short trip alone; most of the hangers on and peripheral
courtiers had departed, leaving commission delegates and tribal
council leaders to get down to the business of negotiating a
mutually rewarding trade agreement. Since Master Jinn was noted
for his diplomatic capabilities and trusted by delegates on all
sides, he had been asked to mediate. With more relief than he
would admit in public, Obi-Wan had been excused. He did not
mind negotiations, and he could be as diplomatic as Qui-Gon
when necessary, but being cooped up listening to various and
sundry politicos arguing the price of Yaleni potatos vs. Travni
grapes....no, given a choice, he was just as happy to catch up
on his reading and trying - still- to adjust to his very recent
change from Padawan to Knight.
They had awakened early, Qui-Gon coming to his room, just
standing there, until Obi-Wan awoke. He opened his eyes to
Qui-Gon's stare, but before he could say a word, the man had
nodded, speaking lightly, "Good. You're awake. Breakfast is
ready."
Breakfast was fruit, bread and cheese. Not having to be
anywhere, he had come to the table in just his sleep pants,
still rubbing sleep from his eyes. Somewhere between sips of
tea and eating one of the long, round gunnek fruits, he became
aware that he was being watched. He glanced at his former
Master, and felt a thrill run through him. There was a hunger
in those dark blue eyes, quickly veiled, but it had been there
nonetheless. He had almost squirmed in his seat, and forced
himself to stay still. His mouth, still around the fruit, had
slowly sucked at the juice because his throat had gone dry in
an instant.
Qui-Gon smiled faintly, and rose. "I must be off." He hesitated
by Obi-Wan's chair, and one hand rested against the Knight's
head in an almost caress. "Will you be in tonight?"
Obi-Wan had been unable to do anything more than nod.
"Good." That large hand did caress him then, gentle pressure,
perhaps a promise.
It had taken awhile before Obi-Wan could think clearly, long
after Qui-Gon had gone.
It had been after the noon meal when, tired of struggling with
a particularly obscure translation of an ancient Landarian love
epic (Your Moon is the Center of My Universe, indeed) that he
had gone exploring the vast palace. And run straight into
Qui-Gon, on a temporary break in the meetings.
"Escaping from the potato wars, Qui-Gon?"
Qui-Gon smiled. "I wish. No, its a brief break only. But I was
hoping to find you about."
Obi-Wan stilled and waited expectantly. There was something. .
.vibrant about Qui-Gon today, something that tingled along the
training bond neither Jedi had ever thought to sever. "Really?
Why?"
Qui-Gon put a hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder. It was something he
had done a thousand times in the past, but this time an
electric shock ran from the simple touch all through Obi-Wan's
nervous system. "I want you to be sure to be in tonight. You've
no other plans have you? Nothing's come up?"
"Oh, uh no. Nothing's changed." Sudden inspiration as he
remembered Tanen's advice. "I'm planning on cooking a very nice
dinner, as a matter of fact."
Qui-Gon's grip tightened, and for a moment their eyes met in a
glance that left Obi-Wan, at least, more than a little
breathless. "Perfect. You think of everything. I think it will
be a very special evening. For us both."
His former master was called back into the conference chamber
then, and Obi-Wan had departed in search of a palace regular
who could direct him to the nearest market. And now, here he
was, waiting for Qui-Gon's return. Happiness and a feeling of
expectant buoyancy filled him. Finally, the Master had realized
that his former apprentice was a grown man, not a Padawan any
longer.
More than time. There was the sound of the front door opening
and he went forward to meet the future.
Obi-Wan's sense of happiness and expectant buoyancy faded away
as he realized, with an abruptness of a slap in the face, that
someone had accompanied Qui-Gon into the living area. He
stopped in his tracks, balancing very carefully, arranging his
features into an expression that could be classified as
"generic welcome."
What in the name of 7 Sith Hells was the Yaleni Ambassador
doing here? With Qui-Gon? On the very best of terms. Obviously.
"Aslin, you already know my appr -- former apprentice, Obi-Wan
Kenobi. Obi-Wan, Aslin Deva is shortly to take up the post of
Yaleni Ambassador to the Republic."
"I know that. Congratulations, Ambassador." Obi-Wan bowed.
"My -- you were just a child when you were here last, and now
-- Qui-Gon tells me you've been knighted. My congratulations to
you, Obi-Wan."
She smiled up at him, an attractive woman, red-haired and
petite. He remembered her from their last visit to this world.
He and Qui-Gon had spent time with her household. She baked
wonderful cookies, his mind recalled with diplomatic precision.
Obi-Wan gave his head a minute shake to try and clear it, but
all that accomplished was to make the dimly lit room swim
around him in a sickening fashion. Aslin and Qui-Gon were both
looking at him expectantly. Why? Oh. More manners. "Thank you."
He turned to Qui-Gon. "So, this is the reason you were so
specific about dinner this evening, I take it?" He heard the
clipped way the cadence of the words fell and the way his
accent had become so pronounced. Two dead giveaways that he was
upset, should anyone care to notice.
Qui-Gon was far to controlled to verbally rap his former
apprentice's knuckles in front of a guest, but the long,
questioning look Obi-Wan was receiving from his former Master
should have performed the same salutary function.
"Obi-Wan - are you entirely well?" Qui-Gon asked.
Strangling the oddest compulsion to tell him that he was most
certainly not well, that, indeed, he did not think he would
ever be entirely well ever again, Obi-Wan struggled to respond
appropriately. "I don't know."
"What?"
Wrong answer. He tried again. "Fine. I'm fine. Really."
His training was trying to tell him what to do, but he couldn't
get enough neurons to cooperate. His face felt unnaturally
stiff, as though muscles had suddenly marbleized. Frost darts
were ran and played along nerve endings, weighing him down with
ice. Glancing over the Ambassador's head, he saw Qui-Gon
frowning at him.
"So many nice candles," Aslin was enthusing. Qui-Gon asked her
if she wanted something to drink and Obi-Wan used the brief
interruption to escape to the kitchen. He mechanically went
about setting the various foodstuffs out, each on its proper
serving plate, placed the dishes on a very elegant little cart
and then, his mind carefully blanked, wheeled the lot into the
dining room. Apparently, a dose of terminal
rejection/humiliation/disappointment did not prevent one from
being able to put dinner on the table.
Obi-Wan pushed the Anterian chicken casserole around on his
plate. He had absolutely no appetite and was sure that the
amount of food on his plate was actually increasing as the
evening dragged on. Aslin sat on his left, at the head of the
table, Qui-Gon across from him. He listened idly to their
conversation, not really caring what was being said. He mixed
some of the orange sauce from the chicken with the Yaleni grown
purple potatoes and was fascinated when the mixture immediately
defined chemistry by turning bright turquoise. There must be
some enzymatic component to cause that kind of color change so
quickly.
Laughter. He focused on it and returned to the dinner table in
time to hear "...it was a whole basket of Leva fruit. He and
Corin ate the lot. Tanen assured them eating all that fruit
wouldn't be harmful." Aslin was telling a story. She turned a
smiling face to Obi-Wan. "You were both so sick. I came home
and found two bright green little boys who just wanted to die
quickly and get the misery over."
Qui-Gon grinned. "We had to stay an extra two days before
Obi-Wan was well enough to travel."
Obi-Wan thought What? Oh, the Leva fruit. For years,
just hearing the words 'Leva fruit' made his stomach cramp, but
tonight nothing permeated the warm, protective shroud of apathy
surrounding him. He thought he smiled at them, but his face
wasn't communicating much with his mind and rather than worry,
he went back to pushing the food around on his plate.
"Obi-Wan?"
He hastily put a bite of chicken in his mouth and looked up.
Qui-Gon and Aslin were both gazing at him expectantly. What
did I miss? Hastily swallowing he asked, "What?"
Patiently, very patiently, obviously repeating word-for-word
the question Obi-Wan had missed, Qui-Gon said, "What are your
plans for tomorrow? Aslin has kindly offered to show me the
Trideri Falls. While we're gone, would you like to visit with
Corin?"
For all the world as though I'm still 13 and need to have a
playmate while the adults go off for the day by themselves.
Aloud he answered, "No, I. Do Not." Accent terrifically
pronounced.
"Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon seldom used that dangerously quiet tone with
him; never needed to use it. That he did so now, for perhaps
the second time in Obi-Wan's life, should have been warning
enough. It bounced off Obi-Wan and fell harmlessly to stony
ground.
Obi-Wan stood up. "No." Enough. The one bite of food he'd
swallowed felt like a rock in his stomach. And then he did
something he had never done before. Would never have done
before. He simply backed away from the table and stalked out of
the apartment.
"Well, you could have been ruder."
Long past caring, Obi-Wan simply looked at Qui-Gon.
"But, I don't see how," Qui-Gon concluded.
Obi-Wan continued to simply look at him, shields firmly in
place, a blank numbness pervading his body.
"Aslin is the newly appointed Ambassador to the Republic. She
also happens to be an old friend. How could you act as though
she were beneath your notice?"
Qui-Gon's tone was so calm, Obi-Wan thought admiringly, so
reasonable, as always. He said nothing, simply continuing to
look at Qui-Gon.
"Well?"
Ah, now that one word held a bit of ...could it be irritation?
Obi-Wan considered this, analyzing the tone critically. Yes,
very faint, but definitely irritation. He simply continued to
look at Qui-Gon.
"You got up, turned your back and walked -- no, stalked -- out
in the middle of dinner. The only reason there isn't a
diplomatic incident to smooth over is because Aslin is
good-natured. Are you aware of that, Padawan?"
Something stirred beneath the numbness, something hot, sharp,
clean-burning its way through the shroud of protective apathy.
Obi-Wan, sounding mildly curious, asked "Padawan?"
Qui-Gon was definitely annoyed now. "Even when you were 13 you
knew better than to behave in such a fashion, Padawan. What in
nine worlds got into you tonight?"
The apathy vaporized. "Padawan? I am not your Padawan."
"What?"
"I am not your Padawan."
"What has that got to do with anything?" Qui-Gon's movements
matched the impatience in his voice as he yanked off the
elaborately embroidered cloak he'd been wearing all day and
tossed it aside. Distracted, his aim was poor. Instead of
landing neatly on a nearby chair, it landed on a small,
candle-laden table. "And what are all these damned candles
doing everywhere? They're dangerous, especially with your
propensity for setting yourself on fire every time you get near
an open flame."
"Get out."
"Are you insane?"
"I am quite in my right mind, Qui-Gon." Obi-Wan retrieved the
abused cloak - it would be stiff with wax in a second or two -
and held it out to his former Master. He pointed, "There is the
door. Leave."
Qui-gon looked. . .startled.
"Now." Both the expression on his face and the tone of his
voice left no doubt that there would be serious consequences if
the command, and it definitely was a command, was not obeyed.
Qui-Gon opened his mouth to argue, stopped, then, in a parody
of manners, he bowed. Obi-wan did not move. Pain and anger
swirled in him and held him frozen. Qui-Gon turned and left
their apartment. Later, when he could think clearly, that would
astonish Obi-Wan.
For now, however, the candles on the table began to explode,
one after another.
The worst part about losing his temper, Obi-Wan decided the
next morning, as he finally finished cleaning up glass and
candle fragments, was disposing of the mess afterwards. This
was just the physical mess. What he had wrought in his
relationship with Qui-gon -- that would have to be faced as
well. But not yet. He wasn't ready yet. So physical labor took
the place of self-examination.
He had just dumped the last of the debris into the rubbish
chute, when the door chimed softly. Force help him, but he
hoped it wasn't Qui-Gon, then knew it wasn't. Qui-gon did not
need to ring the bell at his own door. He put out a tendril of
inquiry and encountered an oddly familiar signature, something
from his past, vaguely recognized as being good. Relief washed
through him and he opened the door to find himself face-to-face
with a tall, wiry young man, shoulder-length hair, ready smile.
"Obi-Wan Kenobi?" The man tilted his head a bit to the side,
then nodded. " Yes, you're taller than when I last saw you, but
that's the same haircut. Minus braid."
"I'm also less green than the last time we saw each other,
Corin. Have you ever been able to look a Leva fruit in the face
again?"
Corin Deva shuddered. "Ugh. Never touch the ghastly things." He
grinned, "Would you like to come out and play?"
Obi-Wan blinked. "What?"
Corin laughed. "Well, that was the impression my mother gave me
when she suggested it -- said she was taking Master Qui-Gon off
to see the Trideri Falls and would I like to visit with young
Obi-Wan. As if we were still about 13 and just old enough to
babysit each other."
"I got the same offer." He stood back and waved Corin into the
sitting room.
"Parents. I'm getting married in six months -- Cat's sister,
Tresli -- and Mother still wants to know if I washed behind my
ears after I get out of the bath."
Obi-Wan laughed, couldn't help it. It was nice to know that he
wasn't the only one getting the kiddy treatment.
"Congratulations. And Qui-Gon is almost as bad. I was knighted
three months ago and he still acts like I'm about to enter
puberty any day now."
"Knighted! Congratulations to you, as well. So, how about it?"
"What did you have in mind?"
Corin shrugged. "I'm sure we can think of something. Oh--you're
not contagious or anything are you?"
"Now why would you ask me that, Cor?"
"Well, last night Mother turned me out of my room so that
Master Jinn could sleep there. I just wondered if you had some
dread disease and he didn't want to risk catching it."
To his annoyance, Obi-Wan felt himself blush. So that was where
Qui-Gon had retreated to. "No dread disease. Just a. . .severe
difference of opinion. Sorry about you losing your bed."
Corin politely did not ask. "Don't be. The sofas in this place
are big enough to sleep six. So -- want to play, Obi?"
"No fruit this time."
Corin nodded, expression solemn. "No fruit."
As it turned out, going out to play with Corin was fun.
They had explored the markets -- due to the wedding, merchants
were offering far more extravagant gear for sale than usual.
They spent a long time while Cor examined merchandise,
particularly jewelry, searching, as he told Obi-Wan "For just
the right bride gift for my Tres..." They finally found a
delicate necklace and earrings that suited her perfection, then
ate a late lunch at a local cafe Corin liked, and finally
wandered back to the palace to sit talking on a terrace
overlooking one of the many gardens that surrounded the
complex.
"No, you are joking," Corin said, struggling to keep a straight
face.
Obi-Wan nodded solemnly. "Oh, yes. And Qui-Gon said, "Your
Eminence, I'm sure that if my Apprentice had actually
propositioned your daughter, he would have done a great deal
better than simply saying "'How about it, old girl,' and
tripping her into a fountain" -- I still had to apologize, and
that after the wretched girl had chased me around the fountains
in the palace courtyard until I thought my lungs would give
out."
Corin was laughing so hard he was holding his sides. But he
could do one better. "That's not nearly as bad as the time that
I was almost forced to marry one of the Senari herders."
"How did that happen?"
"Well, seems the fellow took a shine to me -- now I'm not
averse to men, Obi, but this guy had to be about 900 years old
and smelled like Bantha poodoo to boot, so there I am," Corin
threw himself across Obi-Wan's lap, wrapping his arms around
his waist "not knowing where to look, with this chap wrapped
around me like I am around you right now, and my Father and
Tanen are not being any help whatsoever, because if they say
one word they are going to start laughing and not be able to
stop. I cannot speak, because I'm going to start screaming in
horror if I open my mouth -- oh yes, you laugh now, but I
assure it was not a pretty sight."
"Oh, poor little you. Stop that!" Obi-Wan added in protest as
Corin, taking advantage of the position he was in, ran one
finger up his flank. It was his most ticklish spot, and Corin
was unceremoniously dumped onto the ground.
It ended up being a wrestling match. Finally, flushed and still
laughing they hauled themselves to their feet. It was then that
Obi-Wan felt a familiar tingle along his nerve endings and
instinctively turned his gaze upward.
Qui-Gon was standing on a balcony two floors above. Still as a
stone, face expressionless. For a long moment he continued to
simply stare at Obi-Wan, who -- unable to tear his own eyes
away -- simply stared back. Then, with less grace than was his
wont, the Jedi Master turned away and moved from their sight.
It was only then that Obi-Wan realized that after the first
awareness, he had felt nothing, no exchange of sensation,
nothing along the training bond.
Could no longer feel along it.
Because it had been severed; so gently he couldn't say when, at
some point in those scant moments, it had gone. For the first
time in his life, he was utterly, completely alone. He felt
along the edges, like worrying at a toothache, and was
astonished to find no pain.
Beside him, Corin, sounding puzzled, asked, "What was that all
about?"
Obi-Wan shook his head. "I don't know, Corin, I truly don't
know."
But he damn well intended to find out.
Qui-Gon was sitting on one of the large, overstuffed couches
that flanked the fireplace in the main room of their temporary
apartments, looking, well, looking lost. It was the first time
Obi-Wan had ever seen his Master with that kind of aura about
him and it almost deflected him from his mission. Almost.
"Why now?"
Qui-Gon looked up. "What?"
Obi-Wan moved further into their apartments, until he was
standing in front of Qui-Gon. "You could have broken the
training bond any time after my knighting. Why now? Why without
warning?"
"It seemed the appropriate thing to do." Qui-Gon's voice was
curiously toneless.
Obi-Wan stared at him, resisting the urge to shake the man.
"Why?"
"What?"
Obi-Wan bit back a very descriptive word and said instead,
"Stop it. We've already done that part of the conversation. You
know quite well what I'm talking about."
Qui-Gon studied his own hands as though he'd never really seen
them before. "When I saw you with Corin, it suddenly occurred
to me. . .I realized that you are separate now, you should be.
. .you are your own person. Complete and whole. You don't need
me or the training bond any longer, Obi-Wan."
"I don't need. . ." Obi-Wan repeated, then shook his head. "I
don't. . ."
Qui-Gon continued as though he hadn't heard him. "You make an
attractive pair. You should realize that Corin will be married
shortly -- Cat's sister."
"I know that - we spent half the day searching for a bride gift
for her and the other half with me nodding wisely as Cor
catalogued all of Tresli's incredibly long list of
perfections." He smiled wryly, "Amongst which is singing like a
bird and being extremely creative with variations of bantha
stew."
Qui-Gon stopped studying his hands. "Bantha. . .are you joking,
Obi-Wan?"
"No. Cor loves bantha stew in all its variations. Look,
Qui-Gon, you didn't sever the training bond because of Cor?"
"Not directly, but seeing you with him made me realize. You are
grown-up. You don't need. . ."
"You or the training bond. Right, at least on one count. Why
did you ask Aslin Deva to dinner last night?"
"She's an old friend."
"I know. Why did you ask her to dinner last night."
"She's the new ambassador to the Repuplic."
"Why did you ask her to dinner last night?"
Qui-Gon started to get up, was stopped by Obi-Wan's deceptively
iron grip on his forearm, one that would leave bruises. "Answer
me."
Ah, that got some reaction. Qui-Gon's eyes darkened to a
particularly inky shade of blue and his mouth tightened. "Stop
it, Obi-Wan."
"I asked you a perfectly reasonable question, Qui-Gon, why
won't you answer it?" Obi-Wan didn't let go of Qui-Gon, but he
relaxed his grip to a more comfortable level.
"I ran into her at the close of the trade talks and we were
chatting, catching up on news, the wedding, your knighting. The
next thing I knew, she'd invited herself over to meet you
again."
"Ah."
"May I go now?" Qui-Gon asked dryly.
"No. Having the Ambassador be a third wheel wasn't what you
originally intended, was it?"
Qui-Gon didn't answer, but even without the training bond in
place, Obi-Wan could feel the other man's increased pulse beat,
signaling agitation. Intriguing. And over such a seemingly
innocuous question.
"It wasn't, was it?" Obi-Wan prodded; the answer was too
important to be mercifully tactful.
"What would you have me say, Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon finally asked.
"The truth. It wasn't what you meant for the evening, was it?"
Tell me, he thought, that I couldn't misread you that
completely.
"No, it was not." Qui-Gon pulled away from Obi-Wan's loosened
grip and stood, wrapping his arms around himself defensively.
"Now are you satisfied?"
"No. Do you know what I was going to say to you, minus the
Ambassador's presence last night?"
"I have a fair idea."
"Really. What is that?"
Qui-Gon shrugged. "I know the Council has offered you a pick of
choice solo assignments. I assume you've decided to take them
up on one. It is perfectly natural after all, to want to strike
out on your own."
"Oh, you've got that all decided for me, have you?" Obi-Wan
felt his earlier anger begin to reassert itself. "All neatly
tied up. Only you forgot one important factor, Qui-Gon."
"And what would that be?"
"You did not ask me. You just assumed."
"Well, I. . ."
He got no further. Obi-Wan was on his feet and quite literally
in his face. "Listen. I'm only going to say this once. I, fool
that I am, did some assuming of my own. I turned down the solo
assignments they offered. I told Master Yoda and the others
that the only assignments I was interested in were with my
former Master. If you hadn't chickened out last night, I would
have explained that. I would also have told you why I made that
choice."
"But. . ."
"Don't interrupt me. I was also going to tell you, you stubborn
idiot, that I love you. By the way, that is what you so
charmingly referred to as "all those damned candles" were a
part of. And I do not set myself on fire every time I get near
an open flame; I did that once, when I was 14 and it is about
time you forgot it."
Qui-Gon's expression had changed in turn from angry, to
confused, and was now bemused. "You love me?"
"Yes! Not that it seems to be doing me any good!" Obi-Wan
realized he was shouting and abruptly stopped speaking.
"I did NOT 'chicken out.' "
"Yes you did."
"I did not," Qui-Gon insisted. "I. . .accepted delay as being
the Will of the Force."
Obi-Wan, no longer quite so angry, raised an eyebrow and said,
"I've got this Temple on Coruscant I'd like to sell you."
"It seemed. . ."
"A good opportunity to opt out, since you already had made up
my mind for me, is that it?"
"Is your annoying tendency to finish all my sentences for me
going to be a permanent fixture of our partnership, Obi-Wan? If
so, I can tell you right now, I do not like it one bit."
Qui-Gon unwrapped his arms from around his waist, put his hands
on his hips, and added, "You're right, by the way."
"I see. And?"
"I. . .at breakfast, I meant exactly what you thought I meant."
"And?"
"In the hall between talks, I also meant exactly what you
thought I did."
Obi-Wan smiled. "Well, that's all right then."
"No, it's not." Qui-Gon shook his head. "I was scared you would
leave me, and I had no right to want you, to hold you back."
"No right?! If you don't, then who does?!" Obi-Wan didn't care
anymore if he was shouting. "Sith! I love you! I think you care
for me. You have NEVER held me back. NEVER. Except in this. .
."
He grabbed Qui-Gon's arms and pulled him forward until their
bodies hit, then his hands went to Qui-Gon's head, pulling him
down with handfuls of hair, taking his mouth in a ferocious
kiss. He tasted blood, his own or his Master's, it didn't
matter, because Qui-Gon's arms had gone around him and he was
being held so tightly he could barely breathe.
There was a tongue in his mouth, sucking back, pulling him into
Qui-Gon's mouth, ruthless, as if some dam had burst, and
emotions were pouring into him through touch and some other
link, new and infinitely stronger than the one that had been
severed. Hands went from his waist to cup his ass, lifting him
into the kiss.
Qui-Gon whispered, "I want you." Lips kissed him, over his
face, quick and hard, bit briefly at his lower lip. "Now, my
Knight. Now."
Obi-Wan managed to send agreement along this new link, and he
was whirled, carried to the table and set down while Qui-Gon's
arm sent everything flying, crashing into the far wall. He lay
back, pulling at the larger man's robe, wanting his weight. But
Qui-Gon held back, pausing for a moment, his breath coming
harsh, looking.
"I can hear you," he said softly. "I hear what you feel.
Obi-Wan, how could you love me like this? So much. . ."
Obi-Wan went from pulling him closer, to pulling off his
clothes. "Touch me," he gasped, and lifted his hips when
Qui-Gon grasped his leggings and yanked. His erection was full,
already moist at the tip, instantly held in one large hand,
gripped tightly, Qui-Gon's other hand busy at his waist,
removing belt, sash, pushing aside his tunic. Somehow when the
larger man leaned over him, they were groin to groin, chest to
chest. It was beyond what he had dreamed.
They kissed again. And again. Harder. Obi-Wan was filled with
pictures from Qui-Gon's mind, love and warmth and comfort and
hot need. The need overcame it all and he surrendered without a
second's hesitation, opening his legs, lifting his hips from
the edge of the table, clear invitation.
Again those large hands held his buttocks, grip and release,
closer and closer to his anal entrance, and by the time thumbs
touched him there he was moaning. There was a snap in the air,
a tendril of Force, then a moist finger against him, then in
him, twisting just enough. He arched against it, demanding
more, and it was given, exactly as he needed it, the Master's
mind attuned exquisitely to his own. Another finger, and then
something hotter, heavier, and a hand light on his hip stilled
him. That sense of need was being carefully imprisoned, but at
the ragged edges of control, and he ripped it away. wrapping
his strong legs around Qui-Gon's body, pulling him close,
sheathing the hot length entirely inside himself in one move.
He felt and saw and tasted the white energy that went through
Qui-Gon, who lifted him up and withdrew and returned, each time
touching that spot inside him, and he, too, let go of
everything, trusting he would not be hurt. He gave himself over
to the blinding light and it was so good, so right. . .He
vaguely knew he was coming, that the clench of his muscles was
bringing Qui-Gon over that edge, and then there was weight on
him, and he was being kissed again, top lip, bottom lip, beads
of sweat on his face licked clean.
There were no words, but he heard it all in his head, and words
could not describe what he was hearing, the outpouring of
Qui-Gon's joy in him. In an odd twist of biological reaction,
he blushed.
When Qui-Gon opened his eyes, amusedly watching, he blushed
again, thinking. . .
"Yes," Qui-Gon whispered, "you look well fucked, and you can't
imagine how long I've waited to see you this way."
It was morning and they were leaving. Corin waved good-bye, his
mother, the Ambassador beside him. She had given Obi-Wan a
small package, his favorite cookies, and had whispered
something in Qui-Gon's ear. They walked together up the
gangplank to the ship that would carry them back to Coruscant.
Half-way, Obi-Wan turned to wave good-bye again, and Qui-Gon
paused beside him.
"What did she say to you?" Obi-Wan asked.
One corner of his former Master's mouth went up. "She asked,
'Life Bond?'"
Obi-Wan looked up at him, tall and strong, serenity hiding
incredible passions, and blue eyes met his with faint inquiry.
"Oh yes," he answered softly. "I think so."
They disappeared into the ship, the gangplank was raised, and
with slow thunder the silver liner vanished into the sky.
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