CATEGORY: Angst. Lots of it. Hurt, but absolutely no Comfort.
RATING: NC-17/over 18
PAIRING: Obi/other
WARNINGS: Non-consensual sex. And this is dark. Do not enter
here if grim and gloomy is not your scene, or if you're looking
for something even remotely cheerful. No cheer here, folks.
Consider yourself warned!
SPOILERS: only if you haven't seen TPM and original trilogy
DISCLAIMERS: All the characters within were created by George
Lucas, and I'm using them entirely without permission, but for
non-profit making purposes. :-)
FEEDBACK: As you wish :-) jcmar@globalnet.co.uk
SUMMARY: First person p.o.v. Palpatine comforts Obi-Wan a short
time after the liberation of Naboo, and remembers with pleasure
another encounter thirteen years previously.
"I would be honoured if you would dine with me tonight, Obi-Wan
Kenobi."
I had extended my generous invitation with just a touch of
Force pressure, and in return you bowed slightly in the
irritating manner of all Jedi which is supposed to convey
humility but actually suggests only smug superiority.
"Thank you, Chancellor Palpatine. The honour would be mine."
I detected a slight frown between your brows, as if you weren't
entirely sure why you were accepting the invitation. No matter.
I was quite confident that my controls had been exerted with
such subtlety that you would never be aware of the manipulation
And now you are here, completing your meal and accepting a
glass of wine from a protocol droid with the air of polite
abstraction you've worn all evening. It is the same slightly
glazed and detached look you've displayed ever since your
return from Naboo, as if only by distancing yourself from
reality can you find any semblance of composure. I know the
look - your late master himself wore it for some time after his
little tryst with me - and I don't need to risk probing into
your mind to find out why you are so wretched: thinking me
blind in the Force you wear only the most fragile of masks and
so your grief warms me like the fire of a bright, burning sun.
Beautiful.
I smile inside as I stare through the crystal glass in my hand
and watch your reflection splinter into a thousand pieces as I
twist the spiralled stem. My late apprentice accomplished more
than I thought before his untimely death at your hands: with a
single thrust of his lightsaber Maul brought you into being -
this lovely, tormented creature who sits opposite me.
"We should drink," I say, raising my glass with grave
deliberation, "to the memory of your brave and honourable
master who gave his life in defence of Naboo. To Qui-Gon Jinn."
You swallow visibly, shocked from cool neutrality by the
mention of that name. Your eyes are stricken. "To Qui-Gon
Jinn," you mutter almost inaudibly and, even though swallowing
appears to be suddenly painful to you, I note with satisfaction
that you drain your wine almost to the bottom of the glass.
Naturally. To do any less would be to dishonour your master's
memory.
I regard you for a moment in sympathetic silence. "Master Yoda
has told me of the return of the Sith. You know I will ensure
that the Senate does everything it can to track down the
remaining Sith Lord."
"I know." Quietly, with a painful dignity. "But it will not
bring back my master."
"Alas, no. He was a great Jedi, Obi-Wan Kenobi. It is right
that you should mourn him."
"He is one with the Force, Chancellor. I know I should not
shame his memory with pointless grief, but I miss him very
much."
"Of course."
"I loved him."
"I understand."
Your head lifts and your guileless eyes, brilliant with unshed
tears, meet mine. "You are the first in many weeks to accept my
grief at face value, and for that kindness I thank you. But no,
you don't understand. I loved Qui-Gon Jinn as more than
friend and master, Chancellor. But we were never ... intimate.
He wouldn't become my lover; he said it would be wrong of him
to accept such affections until after I was made knight. I
thought we would be together then, even though he was
determined to take Skywalker as his new apprentice. I had so
much love to give him and now I'll never ...."
With a choked sob of pain, you give up on words and slump
forward, burying your head in your arms. The
uncharacteristically graceless movement topples your glass
sideways into ruin, the dregs of wine spreading in a dark stain
between the crystal shards and across the pristine surface of
the white table cloth.
I smile.
Jedi are so proud of their ability to detect tainted food or
drink before they consume it, but I had needed only the
slightest Force manipulation to slip this particular concoction
past your depleted defences. You've lost the battle without
even being aware that it was joined, your natural inhibitions
weakening, and all that hard-won control over your emotions
splintering into exquisite jagged pieces of pain.
Yes, weep young Kenobi. Weep for the love you never knew. It's
such a shame that I can't yet add to your grief by telling you
that I once had what you craved. Had unwillingly, of course.
Qui-Gon Jinn was a very stubborn man, as you well know, and
utterly refused all my most subtle blandishments. But then his
body wasn't being betrayed by the insidious influence of drugs.
Nor was he emotionally vulnerable to my attentions - and you
are both, Obi-Wan Kenobi.
I push back my chair and move to stand beside you as you lay
your head on the table and weep out your pent-up misery. The
Jedi are fools to think they can cloak death with meaningless
platitudes about the Force; they would have done far better to
let you grieve for your loss in your own way and time, but
their precious Code no doubt forced you to bury all that
emotion. So now you're generously presenting it to me, and it's
a valuable gift that I intend to take full advantage of.
But at first I do no more than press one hand very gently into
your hair. The strands are feathery under my touch, not yet
properly grown out from that absurd cut imposed on you, but the
braid is gone. You are an apprentice no longer, but a knight
with a padawan learner of your own. Delicious. Right at this
moment you are not emotionally capable of training any child,
let alone a precocious and prodigiously talented youth like
Skywalker. Qui-Gon Jinn was cruel to impose this task on you,
little one, but I shall so enjoy ensuring you fail at it.
You don't flinch from my touch as I smooth your hair from crown
to velvety nape, cupping your warm neck with my palm and
splaying my fingers down your tense back. I'm making the sexual
invitation more explicit now, but still you don't resist,
caught up in your grief for what you can never have. So I move
behind you and lean forward, this time letting my hands glide
over your hunched shoulders and under the layers of tunic until
they brush your soft nipples. Then I kiss the top of your head,
inhaling deeply the fresh, sweet scent that proclaims your
youth and lack of sophistication. Poor ingenuous Obi-Wan, so
utterly unaware that you will soon be a willing accomplice in
your own corruption!
You catch your breath sharply at the brush of my lips on your
hair, but I can sense the waking desire shuddering through you,
and I rub gently at your nipples, feeling them rise and harden
under my skilled touch. My advances are utterly unexpected and
I know you're shocked by what I'm doing, but the drugs ensure
that you're not unresponsive. Oh my poor sad little Jedi -
you're making this so very, very easy.
"Chancellor -"
"Shhh. I want to help you."
"I don't think we should -"
"We both grieve for one who dear to us, in our different ways.
If we can find comfort together, Obi-Wan Kenobi, do you think
your master would find it in his heart to censure us?"
"No ..." Your reply is soft and throaty, not just with grief
now but with raw aching need. So much need ...
Reluctantly I take my hands from you, but only for a moment.
Drawing you away from the table, I raise you to your feet and
turn you towards me. Like an awkward child, you hang your head,
scrubbing at your face with the sleeve of your tunic and trying
to hide your distress from me, but you needn't. I'm enjoying
every moment of your misery.
"I've never ... I haven't ...."
Oh, how perfect! My poor little virgin Jedi! Saving yourself
for Qui-Gon Jinn? What a pointless exercise that was! I
have no doubt you see only noble self-restraint in his refusal
to bed you, but I can assure you that it had nothing to do with
his integrity. I know precisely why he chose to keep you
adoring, eager but unsatiated: it was because of what I did to
him thirteen years ago. A bond was forged between us then, you
see. For Qui-Gon Jinn it was a dark, terrible connection that
he could never sever and yet never trace back to its source;
for me it was a bright, beautiful chain that I could pull upon,
shattering his composure with a single nightmare whenever I
felt the need to taste his suffering once again.
"You need not be afraid of lovemaking, Obi-Wan: I shall teach
you. You've pleasured yourself many times, I'm sure."
"Yes." Shyly.
"There's no shame in it. Each of us are flesh, after all, and
as such have needs that must be met."
I move closer and wrap my arms round you, giving you the warmth
and strength you crave to cling to. And most gratifyingly cling
you do, with an almost desperate starving hunger. Are the Jedi
blind that they didn't sense this depth of need in you and
offer you succour? Or did you close yourself to them so
thoroughly that they failed to detect it? I know it's not
impossible. Proud and stubborn to the last, Qui-Gon Jinn
managed to hide his continued torment from the Jedi for years.
And from you.
Did you know there were dark places in his mind that he never
let you visit, Obi-Wan Kenobi? I was most intimately aware of
them, of course: my skill not only created them but chained the
memories so tight about his soul that he chose celibacy rather
than risk rousing any into sudden horrifying life.
Your head is nestled against my neck and I have to use one hand
to prise you away so that I can kiss you. Your lips meet mine
almost chastely and I feel a shiver of expectation ripple
through you. You are a curious contradiction in my arms -
smoothly, almost bonelessly pliant, yet your hard, demanding
cock pressed insistently against my thigh speaks most
eloquently of your desire. Did you cling so to your master,
Obi-Wan, and beg him to love you? What a torment that must have
been to him!
I ease my hands under your tunic once more, stroking the palms
over your back. You don't have the height of your late master,
but your compact body is trim, the muscles firm and well-toned
as a young man's should be. I trace one finger after another
down the hard curve of your spine until I can caress the small
of your back; the skin there is unexpectedly silky and soft.
Then I reach inside your clothing, cupping and squeezing the
smooth globes of your pert rump. Your mouth falls open in a
groan of shock and pleasure, and I use the opportunity to slip
my tongue in between your parted lips, tasting your heat and
sweetness.
Ah, Obi-Wan, it was not like this with your master. His lips
did not part willingly under mine, eagerly matching my desire
with his own wanton need as do you. Qui-Gon Jinn's mouth I
ravaged, seizing first his lips and then his tongue between my
teeth and biting down hard until the warm metallic tang of
blood filled his mouth and mine like a sweet, dark wine.
Believe me, there is an art to that kind of abuse, too, just as
there is now in your seduction. What I am doing to you,
Obi-Wan, is merely a different kind of defilement; I am
connoisseur enough to savour them both.
You're trembling now, your face still wet with tears, and I
can't stop myself from lifting your head so that I can tenderly
lick away the moisture. So sweetly salty. It reminds me of when
Qui-Gon Jinn wept at the terrible hurt I'd inflicted on him. I
tasted his tears then too.
"Tell me, Obi-Wan," I whisper in your ear, "do you think on
anything in particular when you touch yourself?"
"I liked to imagine my hands were those of my master," you
confide, your low voice tinged with both despair and
self-deprecation at such wishful thinking.
"Of course. What would be more natural? Obi-Wan Kenobi, if you
wish to imagine that I am your master as we make love now then
I promise you I will not be offended."
Quite the contrary. It will amuse me no end to hear you scream
your master's name as I take your virginity.
You manage a fleeting smile. "You are very generous ...."
"And you are very beautiful. I wish to make this moment special
for you."
I remember with an inward smile how I'd made the moment special
for Qui-Gon Jinn. A blocking device placed round his throat had
ensured that the Force was useless to him; he could no more
escape my attentions than could his brethren track his Force
signature, and I was able to exercise my considerable talents
in complete security. Ah, Qui-Gon Jinn suffered quite
splendidly! He was such a powerful and dignified figure, and
yet my most delicate caresses caused him to writhe in a total
abandonment of agony. So delightfully arousing did the
experience prove to me that eventually I indicated that there
would be an end to the torment if he would service me with his
mouth - and my poor, proud Jedi Master was just desperate
enough by then to believe me. His devastated expression when he
realized I had lied was quite glorious.
You begin to disrobe in front of me, Obi-Wan Kenobi, stripping
with a mixture of awkwardness and elegance. Taking off your
clothes is a common-place act, but this is the first time you
have performed this ritual before a lover-to-be and it makes
you clumsy. I mirror your actions with more grace, smiling
encouragement at you as I do so. Your face is flushed and as
you discard the last of your clothing, kicking it aside in a
tangled heap, I can see that this isn't the only part of you
where heat is concentrated. Your cock is long and thick,
flushed with blood and already standing upright, begging for
attention. You are such a magnificent young man! Ripe and
ready, and mine for the taking.
I catch your hand and lead you to the plump-cushioned couch. My
cock is also beginning to rise to the occasion, and you regard
it with concern as I push you down until you are lying sprawled
enticingly on your back, the scarlet velvet framing the creamy
flesh of your naked body.
"No need to worry," I whisper reassuringly. "When I take you,
you'll be well prepared and ready for me. See?" I show you the
small bottle of oil placed ready by the couch, prising open the
stopper and dribbling out a thick colourless pool of liquid
onto my hands. You watch, your expression every bit as aroused
as apprehensive, while I warm the oil between my fingers.
"You've no need to be fearful. I don't want to hurt you."
Not yet.
That first oiled touch has you squirming and gasping with
delight as I place my fingertips on your chest and then slither
them in slow sensuous circles over your hard nipples. The oil
was specifically chosen to enhance your ardour and my own, and
the rich scent of it hangs heavy and sultry in the air. Very
gently, I slide my silky hands across the flat panes of your
stomach and then over the tender flesh of your inner thighs,
carefully avoiding your cock even though you're so desperate
for my touch that you're practically thrusting it at me. Ah,
the eagerness of youth!
"Please ...." you moan, your hands tugging insistently at mine,
your head twisting from side to side in rising excitement.
"Please ...." You want me to touch you. How perfect!
When Qui-Gon Jinn begged like this it was because he wanted me
to leave him alone. His once lordly voice had been hoarse and
shaking by then, and oh it was sweet to hear him beg! I watched
his face as he pleaded with me, and savoured the dread that
sparked in those cobalt-blue eyes.
Your eyes, Obi-Wan Kenobi, are lighter, green and blue mingled
together in ever-changing sea-tones. Right now they are wide
and bright with lust, your mouth dropping open in a cry of
ecstasy as at last I oblige you by wrapping my oil-slick palm
round your cock and pumping it. Your breath is quickening, your
hips bucking, and I know you won't last much longer. So I dip
my head and fasten my lips around your cock, the fingers of my
other hand squeezing tenderly at your tight satiny balls.
Your semen hits the back of my throat in a warm flood as you
scream in incoherent delight, your body arcing off the couch in
uncontrollable spasms. I suck the sweetness from you, enjoying
it all the more because I know exactly whose lips you imagine
are locked round your cock, and because I'd ensured it would
never happen.
I let you lie still for a moment in the sweaty and flushed
aftermath of orgasm. Your eyelids are half-closed, screening
the wild heat of your eyes, and your lips are parted, quick,
shuddering breaths escaping through them as you struggle to
regain composure. I like you like this, so vulnerable and so
beautiful. My cock twitches and hardens as I watch you, and I
lean forward, sealing my dripping mouth against yours, letting
you taste your own semen. Your tongue licks the inside of my
mouth tentatively, and then greedily as you suck back the last
traces of your passion.
Coating my fingers once more with the fragrant oil, I smooth
them down over your limp cock and soft balls, and circle my
forefinger across your tight, virgin opening. Your mouth still
locked on mine, you give a choked gasp as I let the finger push
inside you, gliding it lightly up and down to create a
delicious friction. You moan under me, rocking your body as I
push further inside you. When my finger slides out I hear you
hiss with disappointment, but your cries become rapturous as
this time I insert two well-oiled fingers and probe deeper up
inside your body. Your warm muscles clench invitingly around my
fingers as I explore your flesh, and your mouth jerks free of
mine in a yelp of excitement as I push insistently at the
hidden, untouched core of you. Wide-eyed in shock and delight,
you stare at me. And then as I test you by holding my burrowing
fingers still, you push back at me with your hips, wordlessly
demanding that I give you more. What a greedy little slut you
are, Obi-Wan Kenobi!
"Am I hurting you?"
"No...no! Don't stop - please!" You almost wail in
disappointment as I withdraw my hand.
"Give me your hands." Biting your lip and breathing hard, you
obey, and I tip the last of the oil onto your shaking fingers
before I guide your hands down onto my thick cock. "Make me
ready, Obi-Wan Kenobi," I whisper.
Your hands may lack the expertise that Maul's had, but your
touch is deft enough as you smooth the glistening oil on my
cock. I close my eyes for a moment and surrender to the
sensations your caresses arouse in me. Your cock is hard again
now; I can feel it nuzzle me as you curve and stroke your silky
fingers around my flesh. Finally I'm ready, and I prise you off
me, pushing you down onto the floor.
"On your hands and knees," I whisper at your puzzled face.
"Now. Go down on your elbows and let me look at you. Do this
for me."
You do exactly as I ask, going down onto your knees and elbows,
raising your rump in the air like a bitch on heat, your hard
cock curving up to your belly. You are cloaked in your own
desire, a beautiful image wrought in hard muscle and taut
flesh, your body aching with such need and lust that the heat
of it rises from you in a palpable wave. Then you jerk your
hips at me, moaning. An irresistible invitation! Without any
more ado, I turn you onto your back, push your parted knees up
against your chest and sheathe myself firmly in your all-too
willing flesh.
When I raped Qui-Gon Jinn my first thrust into his delectable
body was violent enough to rip a full-throated scream out of
him. The look of anguish on his face in that moment was
exquisite!
Your face, Obi-Wan, is just as exquisite but it is contorted in
ecstasy not pain. Unlike your master, both your body and your
mind have been prepared to enjoy this desecration. So you
thrust up hungrily to meet me while I drive myself deeper into
your oiled warmth, relishing the feel of your strong muscular
flesh clasped around my cock like a hot velvet fist. As I find
a rhythm that impacts against the raw centre of you on every
forward stroke, so your eyes turn smoky with lust, and your
mouth falls open, gasping for air. Oh how sad that Qui-Gon Jinn
never knew you this way, never felt you squirm and cling to him
in the white heat of passion! You're mine now, Obi-Wan Kenobi.
All mine.
"More!" you groan. "More! Harder!"
Harder? I think maybe I detect in you a need to be hurt, a need
to pay penance for failing to save your master. I'm afraid I
can't indulge you too much there, Obi-Wan. After all I'm
Palpatine now, not Sidious as I was when I took my pleasure
with Qui-Gon Jinn. I'm sure you would agree that he'd have
found it far less painful to accept Palpatine's advances than
be forced to submit to Sidious's.
For I was not Palpatine that night I raped Qui-Gon Jinn, but my
darker, more powerful alter-ego who had ordered Jinn's kidnap
after he had rejected the Naboo senator's advances. I was
masked, an unknown creature of darkness, unleashing all my fury
on the Jedi I despised, and in such brutal displays of power I
have no equals. I fucked Qui-Gon Jinn like he deserved, keeping
one hand gripped round his cock and milking him to climax in
tandem to my own savage thrusts. Afterwards I licked away his
tears as he sobbed helplessly under me. So sweetly salty. It
had been quite beautiful.
This is beautiful too, for different reasons. I am corrupting
an innocent, and you are actually delighting in what I'm doing
to you, unaware of the atrocities to which I subjected your
beloved master. One day, when you find out the truth, the
memories of how willingly you played the whore with your
master's rapist will destroy whatever is left by then of your
innocence and faith. Poor Qui-Gon Jinn. Maybe he's better off
dead and knowing nothing of how I stole what should have been
his. Or maybe he can see all this from whatever hereafter Jedi
are consigned to. What a delightful thought! To bring him
torment in the next life as well as this would be sweet victory
indeed.
Your cock is rising and rubbing salty tears against my chest as
I plunge into you more strongly. So I close my hand round it,
matching stroke for stroke until I feel it pulse in my hand.
Your eyes are closed now, your fingers digging into my hips,
and I feel your mind as it gathers and focuses the blazing heat
of your need and passion not on me, but on the one you loved.
On the one I have denied to you.
"Master ... love ... Qui-Gon!" His name on your lips is enough.
You become incoherent, ripples of ecstasy shaking your body,
your semen spraying between my fingers in a warm, milky
fountain. I watch your face, so wonderfully expressive, your
every emotion as transparent as glass. And as your muscles
clamp round my cock so I respond in kind, filling you with my
seed, claiming you as mine.
For a long delirious moment we cling together in mutual
release, our bodies pumping and writhing as we mark each other
with the fluid warmth of passion. And then you fall back
against the floor, limp and exhausted. Your eyes flicker and I
sense your discomfort, your awareness returning to remind you
that the lover who covers your body with his own is not the one
you wanted it to be. There is a glint of tears in your eyes as
your head turns away, and I sense your grief renewed. Ah, not
just grief this time, but guilt. Guilt at having used me. Oh,
the irony of that is just too perfect! Without a word, I lift
myself away from you and watch as you draw up your knees,
curling up on one side and shivering with reaction.
I know that Qui-Gon Jinn had thought his ordeal ended when I
finally removed myself from his body. I felt the sudden wild
flare of hope that coursed through him, and it brought me great
pleasure to crush it still-born. The men who'd kidnapped my
poor Jedi Master were all too eager to accept the bonus I
offered them, and they raped Qui-Gon Jinn repeatedly with a
casual brutality that was truly a delight to behold. When they
were finished I had them take him to one of the more infamous
brothels in Coruscant's underworld.
Ah, Obi-Wan Kenobi, unlike your master, you loved being fucked
by me, didn't you? Indeed, I hardly think the aphrodisiacs were
necessary: I'm sure that with only the slightest show of
affection and encouragement you would have dropped your pants
and let anyone who wanted ream that pretty little backside of
yours. Not all your self-disgust at your wanton behaviour now
can disguise that fact, I fear.
I've made you into a whore, just like I did your precious
master.
I did not see Qui-Gon Jinn again until some weeks after his
Jedi brethren had finally delivered him from his ordeal. Then
he was haggard, his eyes dark and haunted, and he flinched at
every sudden movement made towards him. I remember touching his
arm deliberately - with much apologies afterwards - just to
feel him tremble, every muscle shivering as a thousand ugly
memories raced unchecked through his mind. The physical damage
could be - and was - repaired, but Jinn refused all but initial
counselling, feigning serenity and preferring to nurse his
emotional wounds in private. It was very considerate of him; it
undoubtedly made it easier for the Council to hush up the whole
unfortunate affair.
With a soft sigh of dismay, I lean forward and place a hand on
your shoulder, my fingers combing through the sweat-soaked
tendrils of hair that cling to your neck. You tremble under the
light caress, just as Jinn did, and I feel your emotions flood
through me in a sweet, scalding wave: a broken torrent of loss,
shame, guilt and grief. "It's all right," I tell you gently.
"No, no it's not." Your voice is harsh, and you swallow hard.
You're crying again, but this time silently, the tears spilling
down your cheeks in wave after wave of misery. "It's not
all right. I thought ... I don't know what I thought! Maybe
that this would help, but it hasn't. I don't think
anything can help ...."
"Obi-Wan, I'm so sorry." I speak soft, honeyed words of
reassurance, my hands caressing your cooling, cringing flesh as
if I had no thought on my mind other than easing your grief. "I
thought it might help, too. Believe me, I had no wish to add to
your suffering."
"I know. And I thank you. And I ... I apologize ... I feel like
I just used you. I'm sorry ..."
"Don't be sorry, Obi-Wan Kenobi. Both of us did what felt right
to us at the time. The only sadness I have is that it failed in
any way to ease your pain."
"I don't think ... I don't think that pain will ever ease ..."
You draw a shuddering breath at that, pulling away from me and
casting about you with one hand for your clothes. I let you go
then, draping my discarded robe around me and watching as you
dress in hurried, clumsy silence. Your pain is now a bright
open wound and I batten onto it, feasting on the sweetness of
your suffering. I hadn't thought that anything could be as
darkly precious to me as the agony of soul I inflicted on
Qui-Gon Jinn, but your pain rivals it, Obi-Wan Kenobi.
It appears you intend no formal leave-taking. I watch and wait
as you cross to the door, and then I call your name.
"Obi-Wan."
You turn and look at me. Your face is bleak, your eyes bruised
with grief and loss. My poor sad Jedi! I am almost ready to let
you go, but first there must be one last twist of the knife.
"Talk to the healers at the Temple, Obi-Wan. It may be that
they can help you. It's not good that young Skywalker should be
aware of your distress."
You raise your head at that, displaying a touch of your old
pride and confidence. "He isn't aware of it, Chancellor, I
assure you. I keep myself shielded at all times from him."
Shielded at all times? So the apprentice is being denied the
comfort of a mind bond with his young master. Interesting. I
foresee a time when I can use this information to feed the
youth's natural anxieties and insecurities. Skywalker shows
promise of maturing into a handsome young man; I shall very
much enjoy completing his education, in more ways than one.
"That's comforting to know, but you must seek help for
yourself, Obi-Wan. It will do no good to let this wound fester
inside you as Qui-" I broke off there, biting my lip as if
regretting that I had said so much.
You hesitate only a fraction before taking the bait I offer so
ingenuously. "What were you about to say? That it would do no
good to let this fester inside me as Qui-Gon did?" Your
voice rises in anxiety. "What do you mean?"
"Forgive me. I have spoken out of turn."
"I want to know what you meant, Chancellor!" Your hands clench
involuntarily, and I see the knuckles whiten. What price
serenity now, my young Jedi? Where Qui-Gon Jinn is concerned,
you are all raw emotion!
I sigh heavily, and then spread my hands in reluctant
capitulation. "Not long after I made the acquaintance of
Qui-Gon Jinn he was kidnapped and brutalized - this was shortly
before he took you for an apprentice. As I understand it, he
refused counselling and so delayed the healing process."
Delayed it? There was never any healing process for your
beloved master, Obi-Wan. He died still bleeding inside.
As will you.
You take a step back towards me, visibly shaken by the
information. "How brutalized?"
"I have no details. You must understand, I was just a
newly-appointed senator then. No-one of any consequence. I was
only part of the information loop because Qui-Gon Jinn was
kidnapped after leaving a reception I had hosted. The Council
kept the details private."
"Then I will get the details from them." Ah, the tenacity of
youth! There is a spark in your eyes now, the tears drying on
your face, a gleam of determination shining through the grief.
You have found a fresh focus for your thoughts, although quite
what you imagine you can do about the incident at so long a
remove I really don't know.
"If you think it will help."
It won't, of course. When you find out the truth it will only
anger and distress you further. If you imagine you can use this
knowledge to help you through your despair, you will find you
are sadly mistaken.
Your late master tried to heal himself by helping others, by
nurturing all those waifs and strays. So commendable, and so
utterly futile! I saw how he schooled himself to appear tactile
and at ease in the company of others, and I knew it for the
smokescreen it really was; he could embrace intimacy with the
Living Force, but intimacy of a sexual nature with any one
individual within it was now impossible. Maybe he even accepted
the situation, until you grew up before his eyes - his
spirited, beautiful apprentice. Ah, Obi-Wan Kenobi, I can
imagine how badly Qui-Gon Jinn must have wanted you!
Straightening your back, you compose yourself with an effort.
Then you wrap your robe around yourself, hiding from the world
in its comforting folds, the hood screening your face until you
look up at me one last time. To any who didn't know better you
would appear a very calm young man, wearing an expression of
quiet gravity. "I must go, Chancellor."
"Of course."
"I ..." You hesitate, not knowing quite how to express your
emotions, and not knowing, of course, that I can read their
fascinating complexity quite clearly. I can assure you that one
day, Obi-Wan Kenobi, you will have no difficulty in deciding
exactly how you regard me. "Thank you for what you tried to do,
Chancellor. It was kindly meant."
I smile. "Believe me, Obi-Wan Kenobi, the pleasure was all
mine."
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