The Hand of Cain

by SpitFire

Rating: Strong R

Spoilers: None.

Category: Obi/Other, Crossover, AU

Disclaimer: The Star Wars universe and all its inhabitants belongs to George Lucas. The Star Trek universe belongs to Paramount, and the late great Gene Roddenberry.

Warnings: rape. unpleasantness. bad bad bad.

Feedback: Very helpful. I need help.

Summary: Sequel to "Closer", in which Obi-Wan sees the face of his captor and realizes that the universe just got a lot more complicated. The "official" timeline of this story is after TPM

The hum of machinery and a stab of light through the blindfold woke Obi-Wan out of his troubled sleep. His body was sore, his arms and legs agonizingly stiff after being held in position for so long. His spine felt bruised, and he ached deep inside, but meditation had helped him to marshal his strength. He pushed tentatively at the force-field surrounding him.

"Interesting." His captor spoke from across the room. "I've isolated some kind of particle in your DNA. Like a parasite....a living thing..." The voice was filled with curiosity.

Obi-Wan realized he must be talking about the midichlorians. But how could he measure such a thing without the right equipment? Only the Jedi had midichlorian counters, which they used to test Force- sensitives. He pushed again and felt the force-field shift a little.

"They're called midichlorians," he said, his own hoarse voice surprising him somewhat. It seemed loud in the room, and he guessed the chamber was fairly large, with a high ceiling. He shifted, cold. "They bind us to all other living things, connect us to the universe...." He felt like an instructor, lecturing to a class of initiates.

"Fascinating." His captor's tone of voice sounded anything but fascinated. Obi-Wan felt a brush of air as the man moved closer. He pushed at his bonds again, and was rewarded with a feeling of relief, like cool water over a fevered body. The Force filled him again, making him feel more real and solid, though he still could not get a sense of his captor. There was a computerized beeping sound, directly over his head. "Like an aura. What else do these...midichlorians do?"

Obi-Wan took a deep breath, his entire being rebelling at the nearness of the man. His skin remembered the tantalizing touch and prickled in unpleasant anticipation. His body's reaction elicited a sharp laugh.

"You miss me?" The voice slid like oil over him and he found himself shuddering, his stomach churning with revulsion.

"Don't touch me." Obi-Wan's voice shook, though he didn't intend it. Desperately, he Force-pushed at his captor, and there was silence, save for the soft beeping of whatever instrument the man held.

"Well, well, well. Isn't that interesting." There was a long pause, then the voice was breath against his ear. "I guess these particles...symbionts...are the source of your abilities. They are emitting a very low, constant pulse. One that echoes your heartbeat, your brainwaves." The soft footsteps moved away and there was more beeping. "How poetic." The tone was sarcastic.

Obi-Wan squeezed his eyes shut and concentrated, reaching for that pulse of which his captor spoke. It echoed softly around him, reassuring him, and gathered in him slowly, like water behind a dam. He spoke, keeping his tone casual, despite the seething hatred he felt.

"It's also interesting that I can't sense you with the Force. I can sense the field you've erected to contain me..." he allowed his voice to bite a little. "This pulse you've detected....is the Force, and it binds all living things. I should be able to feel it from you, as well."

He could almost hear the smirk in his captor's voice. "Whether or not I am a living thing is a subject that has been debated."

Obi-Wan's spine turned cold as his mind whirled, trying to anticipate what that could mean. He had clearly felt the man's body--yes, all too clearly--and it seemed human, if strangely cool and somehow alien. What is alive, and yet not alive? It seemed like the sort of riddle that Jedi masters gave to young padawans, to test their skills of creative thinking.

A hologram, a droid... The only things that came to his straining mind.

A speculative noise issued from the corner of the room. "These midichlorians don't react to radiation. I'm modifying a electro- magnetic pulse to bombard them with..."

Obi-Wan's stomach twisted, and sweat formed like ice along his ribs. "What? Why?"

The voice was casual, almost bored. "To see if anything kills them."

Obi-Wan laughed, sounding more confident than he felt. "You cannot kill them. They are life itself."

Bootsteps echoing closer, and more soft beeping. He was being scanned again, and uncertainty made him sweat.

"Is that so? In that case, you and your little midichlorians might serve me very well indeed." The arrogant confidence of his captor's tone caused an eddy of dark anger through Obi-Wan, and he tensed, waiting.

Casually, a hand stripped the blindfold away from his eyes and light seared his brain. He recoiled sharply, then -pushed- again, and the dam broke. Straining upward in his chains, the young Jedi gathered the Force and punched through the dampening field holding him in place. It flowed through him like raw electricity, and he seized upon the nearest un-anchored object--a metal crate of some sort--and flung it at his captor's head. There was a crash of impact, against the far wall, and a hand around Obi-Wan's throat, squeezing dangerously. A cold feeling at his temple, then the Force broke like a school of fish, swirling into chaos.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

Obi-Wan's sea green eyes were wide as they met his captor's face, and he found himself staring into nearly colorless eyes. Cold eyes, but real--and the mind behind them was a blank to him. As if the man were not there. His vision greyed at the edges, and the hand released his throat, letting blood flow again. He took a deep breath and realized that he had nearly blacked out and that his throat was bruised. Everything had happened in less than twenty seconds; he began to feel a cold, real fear in his gut.

"Who are you?" He demanded, getting a better look at his captor. The man was not much taller than Obi-Wan himself, his body was slender, broad-shouldered, and encased in a tight black shirt and trousers that tucked into calf-high black boots. His skin was the color of his eyes--shockingly pale, yellowish in tone, his hair dark and slicked back. He was not imposing at all A hot flood of shame and anger colored Obi-Wan's face, and his eyes stung. "You....you....violated me..."

His reply was a sarcastic smile, twisting the pale lips. "Oh, is that what that was? Looked to me like you were enjoying it..."

He rested a cool hand on Obi-Wan's bare chest, and his fingers curled, sliding along the whip abrasions. Obi-Wan's breath fluttered through his lips as he tried not to react.

His captor turned and strode across the room to a computer bank on the far wall. He moved with effortless, arrogant grace and Obi-Wan hated him with a personal hatred he'd seldom felt for any being before. He watched balefully as his captor quickly pressed some keys and an ident screen came up with the familiar series of beeps signifying entry into the Coruscant Temple's main computer. Obi-Wan stared; how had he broken the code??

"Here you are. One Obi-Wan Kenobi. Listed as Apprentice to Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn. Whatever that means." The tone was light and dismissive and Obi-Wan's breath hissed out loudly. His captor turned to him, pale eyes raking his half-naked form. "Nice to meet you, Obi- Wan," he said with a sarcastic laugh. "You can call me Lore."

Sliding what looked like a data chip out of the computer bank, Lore turned and left the room. The metal doors slammed shut behind him.

Obi-Wan only let himself relax by increments, his mind trying to make sense of the information it had collected. But somehow, seeing the form of his captor made things worse. He could not forget those cold fingers on his body....cold, yet charged with that traitorous electrical heat. Touching him....hurting him, and bringing him such exquisite pleasure.

He trembled. Laying back on his stone altar, he stared at the blank ceiling.

He retreated into a half-trance. He let his mind sink into the sightless miasma of the Force, washed along by its eddies and currents. Only in this state could he feel the solid strength of the Force, and he discovered that this was because of some sort of device attached to his temple: a small metallic object that disrupted the forming patterns of the midichlorians. His unease grew.

He felt, as through a fog, the stirring of his link with Qui-Gon, his master's frantic worry. They had parted only for the evening; both of them were on Bandomeer for a mission that his master kept half- secret. They were supposed to investigate the illicit marshalling of non-Republic military forces, an upstart militia in violation of the Interplanetary Galactic Treaty. That was the official story.

Obi-Wan had thought it odd that they were sent so soon after his Master's shaky recovery from his wounds on Naboo, and so soon before his own Knighthood ceremony. It was somewhat frustrating. But both Qui-Gon and Yoda had been unusually tight-lipped, and as Obi-Wan went off to dig up information on the ringleaders of the militia, Qui-Gon had been away on some mysterious business of his own, something having to do with a secret weapon, a technology so dangerous that it wasn't even allowed to be mentioned. He hadn't even been able to tell Obi-Wan what it was.

Obi-Wan could sense his master's guilt, his all-consuming fear that he had caused Obi-Wan's death or capture. He tried to send a reassuring thought, but could not shake his own rising fear. Master, I'm here....Qui-Gon....

He could almost feel the rhythm of Qui-Gon's deep breathing, a shudder of awareness, a tremor of relief. Obi-Wan!

Obi-Wan tried to focus, despite the cold and the disruption caused by the device. His master's Force signature--a resonant sort of deep-water blue--seemed to grow stronger. The communication was more a series of feelings than words or even thoughts, but Obi-Wan felt nearly faint with relief. He fought the urge to pour all of his fear and hurt into his thoughts, like a very young padawan crying into his master's robes. That would not suit a Jedi Knight at all. He tilted his head and let the currents of the Force calm him.

Was he hurt?
....no...he was alright. For now.
Where was he? Were there many?
..there was just one...strange....powerful....
The sense?
Nothing.
.....Nothing?....
Yes...strange devices...knows about me....Temple computer on Coruscant...
A pause, then the question, filled with frightening urgency.
Where?
Obi-Wan tried to convey everything he saw or felt about the place, though his concentration was waning.
....engines...it is a ship....not far...master....

Hold on, padawan. I'm coming.

Then all coherent sense washed away and Obi-Wan opened his eyes, brow furrowed, trying to sort out what his master had been telling him. The contact, however brief, had given him strength and hope. Yet it had also disturbed him and he knew he could not just wait. Stretching his sore muscles, Obi-Wan tried to relax and call the Force back to him, to his hand.

There was some sort of laser cutting tool on a console across the room. He drove all of his focus into a needle point, forgetting his pain and fear, and reached for the tool.

It was hours later when he heard the rush of the door opening at Lore's entry. He craned his head carefully to watch as Lore plugged something into the computer, closed the door, and turned towards him. His motions were fluid, economical, like a dancer's, perhaps, or a military man's. His pale eyes snapped to Obi-Wan's face and he smiled unpleasantly as he approached the Jedi. He held another foreign device in his hand, one which, Obi-Wan realized with a start, was attached to a Jedi midichlorian scanner.

"You look so pretty, lying there...waiting for 'master,'" Lore said, his voice like silk. Obi-Wan tensed, as he drew close, dreading his touch. "And scarcely a mark on you." He purred slowly, his eyes slitting as they roved over Obi-Wan's light-bathed form. "Master must be a very lucky man."

Obi-Wan's jaw clenched, glaring at the side of Lore's face as he bent over the device, his fingers flying over its buttons with inhuman speed.

"If you think one Jedi is such a prize, wait until the others come for me!" Obi-Wan spat, his body tensing.

"Is that a threat?"

Obi-Wan lunged. The severed chains fell away with an echoing clank as he propelled himself up off of the stone table and aimed a stunning kick at Lore's head. His foot connected with thin air and he stumbled a bit, his muscles cramping from remaining still so long. He landed in a crouch and slammed spine-first into the wall as Lore's hand plowed into his sternum. Stars crowded his vision, and he threw himself out of the way, coming up in a defensive position, eyes darting to his opponent.

Lore stood in the middle of the room, looking considerably less than perturbed, still programming his small device.

"You've been busy. Little fucker."

Obi-Wan's chest heaved with his breath, adrenaline pushing the Force into every corner of his body. He reached up to tear the disrupting device away from his head, but a sharp pain told him that it was implanted into the muscle. He pulled harder, wincing as blood began to run down his face, but there was no time to complete the action. Without the slightest motion of warning, Lore dashed across the room at him, and before Obi-Wan could catch a breath he was being slammed against the wall, arms like supple iron chains constricting his chest. The air rushed from him in a huge whoosh and he struggled, his feet barely touching the ground.

There, for a moment, they were so close he could feel the other's heartbeat, steady and unhurried. Obi-Wan gathered the power of the Force, as much as he could, letting himself go utterly still and limp in an effort to catch his opponent off guard. But the arms merely constricted more, until Obi-Wan thought his ribs would be crushed. He readied himself to throw Lore across the room, but suddenly the Force dissolved, scattered by another power, emanating from the hand on his groin. Obi-Wan's intent shuddered out of him in a shaky breath.

"No..."

He felt Lore's smile as his lips brushed Obi-Wan's throat, the electric spark between skin and skin, and the dark burning between his legs as Lore's hand slowly caressed him.

"Bad boy...trying to escape. I don't think you really want to do that..."

Obi-Wan opened his mouth to protest; a Jedi was above such things...as lust...as desire. They were weaknesses that could undo him. Yet Obi-Wan had given in to such weakness before, and now the Force must be punishing him. Desperate, he tried to repel Lore, but all he could do was throw back his head, panting raggedly. His slender hips jerked forward of their own accord, it seemed, against Lore's hand, which was no longer cold but hot...hot as the mouth that was now sliding down Obi-Wan's body, trailing down his bare chest, closing over the front of his trousers and teasing his growing erection. He gulped a breath and slammed into Lore with an invisible fist, trying to dislodge him. Lore's head snapped briefly to the side as though he'd been slapped, but he did not move. He grinned, and planted one fist firmly above his head in the middle of Obi-Wan's belly, pinning him to the wall.

"You like it rough?"

"I don't like it at all!" Obi-Wan barked, his voice cracking. Yet his body betrayed him again, as Lore's mouth closed over his groin, prodding with his tongue. Obi-Wan jerked, and fought to regain his composure. There is no desire, there is only the Force....

But the Force was shot through with dark bands of desire, corrupted, fractured. Obi-Wan felt his gut churn in terror. "What are you?" He asked again, shaking. Could Lore be one of the Sith? He tried again to sense something of the other's mind, but could not. He felt only the unbearable tightening of his own cock as Lore began to suck him through the rough fabric of his trousers. There is no desire...

In desperation, he cuffed Lore in the head with one fist and cried out as something in his hand snapped. It had felt like hitting a steel door. The hard fist in his belly pushed harder, until Obi-Wan thought he would be sick. He lashed his body outward, away from the wall, trying anything to disengage. But Lore merely pinned him again, as though such an action required no effort, and barely a thought. Obi-Wan moaned and thrust his hips forward, his body clamoring for more. The electric pulse emanating from Lore's hand continued to race through him, prickling his skin, heating his very blood, it seemed. He was losing, again.

He twisted his body and kneed Lore in the throat, throwing himself to the side and using the Force to hurl the crate at him. Obi-Wan winced as his spine cracked against the floor, his sea-colored eyes narrowing in concentration. Lore gained his feet and batted the metal crate away as though it were paper. His pale features twisted in a snarl, and in a flash he had Obi-Wan pinned again beneath his weight.

"You're going to have to tell me...how you do that," he growled in Obi-Wan's ear. The Jedi twisted beneath him, caught in agony between hatred, fear, and sexual need.

"Get off!" Lore's weight on his chest made it more of a whisper than a demand. Obi-Wan felt his mouth forced open, Lore's long tongue inside. He moaned again, hands that meant to hit instead clutching at the sleek, muscled back, as he writhed slowly beneath him.

"Pretty neat what you can do with just a little electricity, huh?" Lore's mouth, centimeters from his, was drawn up in a smirk, and his pale eyes stabbed into Obi-Wan's. So that was it! The electric pulse he felt was intentional, used to manipulate him! Obi-Wan snarled and bucked his body frantically, but Lore was heavy as stone. Anger was like a white heat behind his eyes, and his mind lashed out like a whip, without direction, intent only on hurting his captor.

The heavy body upon his jerked, startled, and Lore let out a low whistle of breath, sitting up. His face was cut open just below the left eye where the laser cutting tool had flown across the room and sliced him. His eyes were narrowed to dangerous, colorless slits. Obi-Wan stared, all anger momentarily forgotten, as his heart hammered in his throat and his brain reeled in shock.

A thin greenish fluid smeared Lore's cheek, and where there should have been a bloody wound, Obi-Wan could see complex wiring and tiny blinking lights. A droid...

He lay there unmoving, his mouth hanging open, as realization began to curl its dark tendrils around his brain.

"You....you're the thing...they're looking for..." he stammered, hearing his own voice from a long distance. "You are the weapon!"

Lore slowly stood, pacing around Obi-Wan's body like a predator over downed prey. It began to make more sense now--his great strength, Obi-Wan's inability to sense him using the force, his master's forced secrecy about the mission. A machine. A sentient machine, the likes of which Obi-Wan had never imagined. His stomach curled uncomfortably, and his spine went ice cold at the thought of what this...robot...had done to him.

"No, Jedi," Lore said. "You...are the weapon."

tbc...