Master Apprentice
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XI
He groaned, leaning forward to find the bucket, and retched into it despairingly. How could he still be this sick? He braced himself against the edge of the cot with one hand, struggling to hold his hair back with the other. Another wave of nausea rolled through him and he choked.
"All right, all right." His Master's hands held his head expertly. He was sure he had managed to heave up everything he'd eaten for the past month long ago.
"I'm dying!" he croaked.
"Ya're not dyin'!"
Obi-Wan fell back to the pillows weakly. He glared at Qui-Gon through very red and swollen eyes.
"It's horrible!"
"Ya'll get used to it."
Obi-Wan moaned.
They had left the small spaceport three days ago and, since then, his stomach had threatened to return home without him.
The "Syrene" was the most enchanting thing he had ever seen. Used to the big pleasure cruisers of the Senators, or the utilitarian barges and battleships always crowding Coruscant's port, Obi-Wan had been instantly captivated by his Master's strange craft.
The ship was small, holding only a crew of seven, its plating a deep bronze colour, rich in delicate chasework. The maneuvering sails of tensile-treated steel arched back from its bow like enormous bat wings, their gilded ribs gleaming in the harsh overhead lights of the hangar. There were small, oval portholes on the four decks, each shielded by opalescent plastisteel that reflected a rainbow of colours. He had been wide-eyed with delight to watch the pilot droid begin their take-off, the huge sails opening for flight like the wings of a great, fragile dragon.
The ship was far stronger than she appeared, and better-armed. All her gun turrets were hidden in the same elaborate scroll work that covered the outer hull. Obi-Wan had counted seventeen laser guns, three bays of photon blasts, and some other odd-looking spike rearing from the curved prow like a serpent's head.
The inside was equally quaint. The gun-decks and engine rooms were festooned with that beautiful curling decoration like ballrooms back at the Temple. Even the engine itself was glorious in its twisted, golden casing, from which the main power core rose like a shimmering fountain of light.
Their quarters were opulent, the bed glimmering in rich fabrics he had never seen in his Master's palace. Obi-Wan shook his head. The man was totally impossible!! //Fancy decking out a ship like this and living in such squalor at home!//
Unfortunately, Obi-Wan's enjoyment of the Syrene was short-lived. After prowling around the craft for a few hours, he began to feel distinctly unwell. Qui-Gon had disappeared up to the bridge and he had settled back into the big bed of their quarters to read when the first bad wave of nausea hit him.
Now he was in the small, stark sickbay, helpless in the grip of what he could only surmise was imminent death.
Qui-Gon simply laughed at him and brought him a glass of water.
"Drink it."
"It won't stay!" he moaned.
"It's only space sickness. Ya will live."
"Not that I want to." Obi-Wan muttered darkly.
But the water stayed down and he gazed out the porthole. "Where are we going?"
"Never mind."
Obi-Wan glowered at him, accepting the wet cloth and draping it over his forehead.
"This is not fun!" He rose up on one elbow. "And why do you always look like you want to say something to me, and stop."
Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow. "I do not." he said mildly and totally without conviction.
"You do too! " Obi-Wan retorted. "You do it all the time! You think I'm not looking at you and your whole face is a big question mark!"
Qui-Gon settled himself in a chair beside the cot. His lips quirked into a smile. "Is tha' any way for ya to talk to yer old Master?"
Obi-Wan smiled back. "Yes, when he teases me and takes me lightyears into space and doesn't tell me where we're going and always looks as though he is questioning me about something I don't know and no, you're not old.
Qui-Gon nodded silently with a sarcastic smirk.
His eyes drooped a little as his smile deepened. "Thank you for taking care of me. I think I feel a little better."
Qui-Gon reached up to stroke his hair back. "Ya sure? I can give you some---"
"NO!"
Obi-Wan had a horror of medicines, healers, surgeon-droids or anything else connected to the subject. The four required healer's visits each Standard cycle during his time at the Temple had always been a fight. As grateful as he'd shown himself for his sponsor's last gift, it had made him sick with terror to walk into the medical-droid's unit for those enhancements.
He shuddered and lay back. "I'll be all right now, I think."
Qui-Gon sat back and scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Ya really want to know?"
"Which? Where we're going or the Unknown Question?" Obi-Wan murmured.
His Master laughed softly. "Ya may look exhausted and miserable and sick,but ya don't miss much."
The boy stuck his tongue out weakly. "Both!
"Well then, our course is set for Xaennon on Ceruspa. Nice little place." His laugh sounded ominously inward to Obi-Wan's ears. A sudden grin split his face. "Ya'll like it sure enough!"
"But," Qui-Gon continued, glancing out the window speculatively. "tha' could change too."
Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow and sighed. "You never give a straight answer to anything, do you know that? You talk in riddles half the time!"
Qui-Gon eased back into his chair. "Then ya'll have to get good at riddles, won't ya?" His voice was mild, but Obi-Wan wasn't fooled at all. Not anymore.
//All right. An Adventure. Well, my whole life has been a big adventure since you, Master.//
"And the other?"
For a long moment, Qui-Gon simply look at him intently, long enough for Obi-Wan to have to force himself not to squirm. He continued to meet his Master's eyes evenly.
"What d'ya know about the Temple?"
Obi-Wan's eyes widened in surprise. Then he recalled the katas. Ancient warriors. He took a slow breath.
"Not very much. I thought it had always been there, the way it is."
"The buildings, some of 'em, are very old. Ya know that, don't ya?"
"Oh yes!" Obi-Wan brightened. "The oldest tower is the shortest, but has the prettiest viewing garden in the whole complex."
"Well, those were the Old Temple. A long time ago."
"How long" Obi-Wan demanded: he hated stories without details. He wriggled back against the pillows, his tender stomach forgotten in the promise of one of his Master's tales.
"Almost a thousand years. It was a different place then. And the Jedi were a bit different than wha' you know."
The boy nodded, his eyes clear for the first time in three days.
"They were Knights, Warriors, who traveled the galaxy empowered by the New Republic, after the Empire crumbled. They were needed to do some hard things. Hells, they' d been doin' em for nearly a thousand years after the Sith Wars."
Obi-Wan's eyes were enormous. "What's a Sith?"
He grinned at Obi-Wan. "That's another story."
He leaned back in the chair, stretching out his long legs. "Anyway, they were used for stoppin' rebellions on Republican planets, disputes over trade rights, general order-keepin'. "
Qui-Gon's eyes had gone dreamily inward as he warmed to his story. "All were Force-sensitives, trained the way I'm trainin' you. But harder, much much harder, at least at the beginnin', so I was told. They were a tough lot that got too tough and too big. Too many of 'em. By the time I'm talkin' about, there were thousands upon thousands of 'em, all armed to the teeth an' they scared the bloody hell out of the Senate. "
"Why was the Senate scared? Were they bad?"
"Nah, not really. Generally, they did what they were supposed t'do well. But between the Senate worryin' about a giant independent army right in the capital itself, and their own way o' making rituals out of everything, they made themselves a bad bed to sleep in. Somewhere in there, they stopped bein' tough. They were playin' at back door politics and got lulled by their own sense of...I don't know, pride maybe. Or arrogance that can't look itself in the face. It wasn't the first time tha' happened." Qui-Gon shook his head.
"Bloody idiots! During the Marigenata Wars, they tried to overthrow the recognized government of Remwara. And lost. Bad move. The Council scrambled and ended up signin' a dangerous deal: those who were in the war were given leave to commit suicide or be executed; the others were disarmed. Those who argued the treaty were threatened with permanent Force-damping." He sighed deeply.
"In the end, most signed. Some were killed or worse."
Obi-Wan hugged his knees, his eyes wide. "But if they were good?" // It doesn't make sense!//
Qui-Gon smiled. " It was a trick, a calculated move to discredit the fools. Y'see that war ended the New Republic and created the one we've got now. The Republican Alliance." His face darkened. " The Alliance Forces polished off most o' the population of Remwara, just f'good measure. And the story goes that the Republican Alliance wasn't an Alliance at all. It was one person."
Qui-Gon's expression had become grim. "One of the Senior members of the Jedi High Council decided he'd rather be an emperor than a monk, cos' that's what the once-mighty warriors had become. Idiots obsessed with aesthetics. But th' tricky bastard knew better than to take the title. So he created the Alliance, bought the Senate, and disarmed the Jedi. "
He heaved another long sigh. "The worst part of it, is no one knows who he was, so the legend goes. Like a bloody ghost, he was there, then he wasn't. His name simply got lost in history. Don't ask me how, but it did."
"That was, oh, some five hundred years back. Politics kept its usual course." he grinned briefly. "It's always who can get wha' for how much anyway. But the Jedi were not th' same anymore. They weren't trusted and didna trust themselves."
He looked at Obi-Wan quietly."I imagine the Temple you know developed in time. More aesthetics!"
Obi-Wan's chin set stubbornly and he stared down at his knees. He loved his Master's stories, but really disliked it when they got personal. It was too much like another lesson. Qui-Gon's eyes softened and he tipped the pouting face back up. "Don't get silly on me, boy."
"Well, I don't see why you can't be a warrior and have some manners!" Obi-Wan muttered. Then he grinned. "I bet you made all that up! Just so you can eat with your hands. And I still want to know what a Sith is!"
Qui-Gon reached over and smacked his thigh. "You are gettin' t'be a mouthy brat."
Obi-Wan smiled. "Yes Master."
"Now try t'get some sleep. Please." It wasn't really a question: Obi-Wan knew that tone.
He rolled over obediently, sighing another "Y-s, Mmstr" in the pillow and soon found himself on a paper dragon of dreams, flying over Coruscant's towers amid thousands of faceless ancient Jedi armed with golden lightsabres and carrying lacquered teatrays. More than once, he giggled in his sleep.
XII
Obi-Wan woke to a rather rough shaking. His eyes opened clearly for the first time in days to see his Master leaning over him with his usual sarcastic grin.
"Get up, boy!! Ya been sleepin' like the bloody dead!"
"Mmmmmm..." He stretched languidly and smiled. "You should have tried to wake me with a kiss."
A light clip to the ear made him sit up.
"I know tha' one. And I do na think I qualify for Prince Charming."
Obi-Wan yawned. "True. More like the Ogre...."
Their eyes met and they both exclaimed together "But that's another story."
It was wonderful to wake to laughter. Obi-Wan loved his Master's laugh. It was deep, rich, coming straight from his gut. Had he been able to hear himself, he would have realized that roar had changed his from a timid giggle to an genuine, open-hearted laugh that made his eyes dance and his face irresistible.
Qui-Gon scooped him out of the bed, covers and all and whirled around in a tight circle, still laughing, while Obi-Wan beat against his back, struggling to talk and laugh at the same time.
"Stop it!!! You'll make me dizzy!!"
He was silenced by a kiss and dropped back on the bed in an unceremonious heap.
"We've docked. And ya've been asleep for nearly a full day! Now up, and get dressed. I laid 'em out for ya. "
Obi-Wan bounded out of bed. "Are we going to see the city?" He went to rummage in the wardrobe, but his Master took him by the shoulders and turned him to the chair.
On it lay one of his best seryth-silk robes with all its accoutrements. For a long moment, he simply stared at it, then he rolled his eyes and looked at his Master with a smirk.
"Sure." he turned back to the wardrobe.
"I'm na kiddin' ya."
Obi-Wan turned to him, eyes wide. "Why in hells would you want me to wear that!?"
His Master simply chuckled and shifted his weight from one hip to the other.Obi-Wan realized he was decently dressed for once. //Well, as decent as I believe he'll ever get!!//
The usual rough tunics and leggings, or worse, the leather jerkins and thigh-high riding boots, had been replaced by a slashed tunic in midnight blue velvet over one of some filmy fabric that billowed to his wrists. The leggings were simple, black; the boots of some polished hide, cuffed above his knees. It looked oddly barbaric and elegant at the same time.
Obi-Wan also noticed a barely perceptible series of bulges beneath the wide sash and near the tops of each boot, not to mention the obvious blaster strapped to his right thigh and he cocked his head to one side.
"Master?"
Qui-Gon eyed him quietly. "Yes."
"You wouldn't use a blaster on a thousand-credit bet."
His Master simply smiled inscrutably and leaned back against the scrolled bulwark.
"Just get dressed. We've got a dinner with the Governor of Xaennon. He spent a fair amount o'time on the Inner Rim."
His smiled widened wickedly. "Ya might even know him."
Obi-Wan threw a pillow at his back as he disappeared through the door. Then he turned to survey the complicated series of under robes with a sigh. He'd gotten so used to the freedom of his simple clothing. For a moment,he put his hand to his cheek in dismay, racking his memory for the proper order. A long sigh, and it came back to him. He began to dress methodically.
By the time he had the elaborate, wide-sleeved outer robe tied by its sash, he was cursing fluently in at least twelve languages. //All hells and back!! I never realized this was so--so--bloody --Ahhh!! Force!! Hells!! Fuck!! Bedamned!!//
Finally finished with the complex ties that fastened it all, he turned to the small dressing table and realized his Master had set out a good array of his cosmetics. Obi-Wan just shook his head and sat down to brush out his hair and rebraid his plait. He knew he shouldn't wonder anymore how his Master got his information. Picking up a pencil, he began on his eyes. After poking himself once, and having all his work run down his tearing face, he was ready to spit like a cat . He washed his face and tried again.
//C'mon Kenobi. It's not that hard!! You've done this for years!! //
Qui-Gon poked his head inside just as he slipped on the sandals, and simply stared. He had never once, in all these months, seen Obi-Wan in full regalia. It was impressive, or, at least, would have been, had he not taken one step and nearly tripped over the trailing robes. Another stream of curses and Qui-Gon could not repress a laugh.
Obi-Wan glared at him. "This is all your fault!!"
His Master took pity on him and offered his arm for support until Obi-Wan could relearn how to walk as they headed to their shuttle.
Qui-Gon had been right: Obi-Wan did like Xaennon. It was not much like Coruscant, but reminded him of the summer Temple, on its outskirts. The streets were broad and lined with deep-eaved houses and shops. Obviously, they were heading to the Governor's palace and were in the best area of the city: it was very charming and quiet.
The Governor's home was not a palace at all, but a villa with a wonderful view from the approach over its sloping roof to cool forest and mountain. He sighed, for it brought back so many memories so quickly. Instinctively, his posture became a little more fluid, his feet remembering how to make his body glide in the high-soled sandals. This was not lost on Qui-Gon, who still had his elbow and felt the change of motion immediately.
The Governor proved to be unknown, much to Obi-Wan's relief, but he knew the type very well. Somehow, he slipped back to Temple padawan with ease, his voice softening in light small-talk, his serving skills at the intimate dinner poised and unobtrusive. Govenor ??? Merck was a small man with elegant manners, a pointed face and very dark eyes against his pale bluish skin. He had clearly spent most of his time in either Coruscant or perhaps Alaeda.
Offering the dessert wafers, Obi-Wan repeated a little pun in Alaedana and the Govenor laughed heartily. // OK. Now you know where. I wonder how he ended up here? //
His Master's voice rumbled in his head, //Because he's a gambler and he cheats.//
Obi-Wan allowed himself to look up into Qui-Gon's eyes innocently.
To his surprise, Qui-Gon handled himself quite well. At least he didn't forget which utensils to use, until the second course with its elaborate sticks. Without words, Obi-Wan felt the minor surge of panic.
//Thumb and fourth finger, Master.//
He was rewarded with a tiny smile and an arched eyebrow. //Thank you, Padawan.//
Obi-Wan glared momentarily under his lashes. Why did his Master sometimes manage to make that word sound so---dirty! He continued his steady chatter, keeping the Governor talking about himself. //Everyone's favourite subject!!// Meanwhile, he indulged himself in a brief daydream of emptying the teapot over his Master's head.
He nearly spit when he was rewarded by a Force-slap on the back.
Gritting his teeth, he turned to smile sweetly at the Governor and leaned a little closer to the small politician.
To his disappointment, Qui-Gon only looked down at him impassively. He rarely spoke during the meal, and when he did, it was only to the Governor.Obi-Wan was sure that they knew each other and that this was not a simple social call.
He telegraphed his Master // ?? //
// I need his help for some trade. He likes ya.// There was a pause, then// Obi-Wan? //
// Yes Master?//
//Don't get carried away.//
Obi-Wan resumed his airy flirtation with an inward groan. He remembered he was an ornament: a prize to show off, to attract envy, possibly to dangle as a carrot. He was by no means so naive not to think that his functions included much more than warming his Master's bed. But he really would have preferred a training session and perhaps a swim in the lake. Besides, his knees were getting stiff from the unaccustomed position and it all seemed rather trivial. A part of him was laughing at himself, while horrified that he was thinking in such a fashion.
After the meal, the Governor escorted them around the lovely garden to watch the twilight, until he and Qui-Gon stopped to talk of some cargo shipment.
Obi-Wan had been so glad of the break in making subtly coy conversation and getting not-so-subtly pawed under his sleeve that he let his thoughts drift and was surprised when Qui-Gon suggested the Govenor come to the shuttle to see a sample. He didn't remember any sample of anything. Or any cargo.
// Stow the panic, boy.// a very low warning.
Obi-Wan covered a grimace with his hand, then slipped it through the Governor's arm again. His heart was racing.
Their shuttle was not far, and they boarded without incident, until Qui-Gon slammed the blast doors shut and pressed the ignition.
Meryck yelped, "What in hells do you think you're doing!!?"
Qui-Gon lounged back against the door with an easy smile. "There's a matter o' some 4,000,000 credits. That's what I'm doin'."
"Are you mad?! I'll have an army after you, Jinn!! I swear you won't get away with this!!"
Qui-Gon shrugged expressively, turning to guide the shuttle to the dock.
"Ya really think I've forgotten tha' phony transport company scandal from last year? Or the embezzlement charges I paid to have dropped the year before? More to the point, how about that spice run you had me do for ya'? I'm na so sure your adorin' people would be in a hurry to know all that, do you?"
He turned briefly from the controls with a smile. "So sit back and shut up."
He pulled up to the Syrene with ease. "Besides, they'll pay a nice ransom and I'll cut ya in, as always. One of those fancy casinos makes that much in six months."
The Governor's face had gone a stale shade of grey. "I'll--I'll--"
Qui-Gon shut down the engine. "Ya'll take it. Like ya always do. Now move and don't do anythin' stupid."
A short walk through the docking tube and they were safely aboard the Syrene.
Obi-Wan never realized he'd been clutching the Governor's arm, nearly as frightened as the man himself. He didn't know this person. The voice was his Master's. Certainly the body was his, but the face was a stranger's,with eyes that bored like blue lasers, where there was no emotion at all in their depths. He gulped, his mouth half-open when Meryck's arm suddenly arched around his throat, the other hand holding a small blaster.
"I'll kill him, Jinn. I swear I will."
Qui-Gon turned, shaking his head with a short laugh. "Oh, I doubt tha'"
Time seemed to have frozen for Obi-Wan. His Master was striding up to the bridge, apparently unconcerned that this weasel had a blaster at his temple.His mind surged with panic for a moment, then he relaxed back against Meryck, consciously making his shoulders tremble. The Governor's grip shifted to his hair as he shouted after Qui-Gon almost incoherently.
Obi-Wan's right arm shot up to slam against Meryck's head as his left elbowed him hard in the ribs, his left hand gesturing the blaster across the deck. He Force-shoved the man back against the bulwark and turned around swiftly.
"And I thought we were friends!" He chided lightly as he pulled the blaster to him and spun up the corridor in a swirl of silk.
"Now come to the Commons and behave yourself."
The Governor gaped for a moment, then followed the sibilant trail to the Common lounge in silence.
XIII
Obi-Wan had a drink set before Meryck at the sumptuous table in the Commons and regarded him gravely. It took every bit of self-control he possessed not to Force-choke the politician.
Meryck glared at him. "And do you know the penalty for a slave to strike a free man?"
"Perhaps on the Inner Rim. Here, I daresay it doesn't matter quite so much. Besides, I am my Master's property and worth more than your whole city. If you had killed me, I don't think you'd be breathing right now." His voice was even, soft and without malice.
"You'd no right to fight back."
Obi-Wan simply looked at him in silence. He went to the sideboard along the scrolled bulwark and brought a tray of small delicacies to the table.
"Nothing's poisoned. I made this for my Master. "
Meryck stared at him, clearly unconvinced. Obi-Wan shrugged, ate one, and smiled.
"I'm leaving you for the moment. I think you'll be comfortable. There's wine here on the table and spirits in the sideboard."
He moved gracefully to the door, then turned.
"The door's palm-locked, so don't bother."
Once outside and having locked the door, he started to run up the corridor.He paused to kick off the sandals, yanked the train of silk up, and stormed into the bridge, trembling with anger.
"You USED me!!!" he shouted.
Qui-Gon was seated before the console, his palms resting in shallow depressions of its gilded, serpentine surface. There were no other instruments except the viewscreens showing all angles outside. He didn't turn around.
"In more ways than one!" he chuckled.
"You bastard!!! Do you know what you've done? Now I'm a criminal!! Anywhere else it would take days for me to die."
"Better a criminal than a---"
Obi-Wan spun the chair around, white-faced with fury.
"Don't you dare!! Don't you dare say it, you -- you-- you left me there!!!" he wailed. "You bloody left me!!"
His voice was beginning to rise hysterically and Qui-Gon stood up abruptly, and backhanded him to the deck.
Obi-Wan stared up at him, one hand pressed to his bruised face in shock. He'd received a knock on the head to bring him to attention in meditations, the occasional blow while sparring, but never, never had Qui-Gon struck him in anger.
Qui-Gon's voice was harsh. "Don't YOU dare. I've no time for any o' this shite! I've a ship to pilot and ya didna need me there."
Obi-Wan glared at him, the trailing layers of silk riding up around his legs like ribbons around a maypole. His shoulders were heaving, his eyes glittery.
His Master looked down at him for a long moment, then grabbed his arm and yanked him up into his arms. His eyes tore into the boy's, dilated nearly black, hot as lava.
Obi-Wan's whole body melted into the embrace, his hands twisting in his Master's hair, lips claimed in a devouring kiss. Whatever anger he had felt transformed itself into quite another kind of heat. Tongue on tongue, he pushed forward tasting Qui-Gon's mouth, opening his own. For something of an eternity, they dueled, each attacking, then retreating in an oral dance of desire.
Then his head fell back against his Master's shoulder, dizzy and lightheaded.
Qui-Gon smiled down at him. "First case o' battle-lust?"
Obi-Wan punched his arm lightly and leaned against his chest, sighing, "You bastard!"
Qui-Gon sat back down pulling the boy onto his lap.
"Ya know, its a good thing I'm only orbiting. Ya're a damned distraction in here!"
Obi-Wan sat up on his Master's knees and regarded the console. "Well, show me. How does it work? I've never seen a panel like this!"
"Ya've never seen a panel at all!" Qui-Gon murmured.
"Yes I have!" the boy retorted. "I was in plenty of pleasure cruisers! " He ducked his head against his Master neck. "I used to sneak into the bridge if I could. There were always so many switches and buttons and knobs."
Qui-Gon laughed softly. "Well, none o' those fools could pilot this craft. She's my own design and ya see all that decoration?"
Obi-Wan nodded.
"It's all made of cerusin. It's a metal but it's sentient, Force-sensitive, in its own way. Only someone like us could pilot her."
"You mean with our abilities?"
"Aye, and they'd need a bit o' trainin', too."
"So the rest of the crew? I saw no one."
"I need no one. Syrene's quick enough to take care o' herself. To a point, tha' is."
The comlink interrupted him in a distinctly feminine voice. "Port bow, Dulaan. Shuttle craft approaching."
Qui-Gon's left hand reached around Obi-Wan's waist for the depression on the console. "Aye, I see it. Armed?"
Obi-Wan watched in fascination as it rippled to curve around the shape of his hand exactly.
"No, Dulaan."
"All right. Carry on. I won't be long. And thank you." As he lifted his hand from the depression, it smoothed out completely.
Obi-Wan giggled as he stood up. "You thank the ship?"
His Master looked down at him for a moment. "Don't ya say please and thankee?"
"Oh." A bit bemused, he followed Qui-Gon out of the bridge, struggling with the material that swirled around his feet. He paused to retrieve his sandals as his Master opened the Commons door.
"Obi-Wan, ya keep our guest company. I won't be long."
Pouting a little, Obi-Wan turned and walked reluctantly to the Commons. He had no desire to see or hear Meryck again in this lifetime or his next. Sighing, he opened the door and went to the sideboard, looking down at his hands.
Without turning, he asked, "Can I get you anything else?"
Meryck watched him with sharp eyes. "Yes, " he said, his voice silky. "I'm sorry about before. Jinn is, well, unpredictable at best. He surprised me." He shifted on the lounge. "Come over here and have a glass of wine."
Obi-Wan walked over but kept his head down, acutely aware of the bruise on his left cheek. He poured the politician a glass of wine, declining one himself, and sat down, his face still averted.
The Governor's hand reached out and turned him gently. "Poor little thing. You must have trouble with him."
Obi-Wan kept staring at the edge of his own sash. "It's nothing." he murmured.
Meryck's smiled and lifted his face. "You know, you're too pretty by far." His fingers traced the bruise. "But I suppose you're used to it."
Obi-Wan's chin set mulishly and he raised his head. "No, I'm not."
Meryck's eyes were sympathetic to the 'lie'. "It's all right, child. Now, if all this goes well, I could---" He moved closer, his arm snaking around the boy's shoulders.
Obi-Wan drew back sharply. "I think not." His voice was icy.
"Don't be such a little fool!! He mistreats you, puts you in grave danger. You seem to be a sweet little thing. Why don't you let me take you away from this? It can't be that difficult a decision." He was playing idly with the heavy padawan plait hanging over Obi-Wan's shoulder.
The boy twitched it out of his hand, drawing himself up. "Do you know what this is?" he flicked at the thick braid.
Meryck shrugged. "Some pleasure boy hairdo?"
The slap resounded in the Commons like a shot.
Obi-Wan was on his feet, his eyes hot with anger. "It means I'm a Jedi Temple padawan, that's what it means. How dare you!!"
The Governor faced him with a sneer. "Jinn with a padawan!!? I doubt that very much!! You're just another little imposter he---"
Obi-Wan didn't waste another word. In a rustling swirl of silk, he strode to the door, just as it opened for him to face his Master.
"I thought I told ya--"
The boy held up one imperious hand. "I suggest you attend to your company, Master. I'll be in our quarters."
Head held high, he swept past Qui-Gon and down the corridor to their room.
Once there, he closed and locked the door. Then he went to the wardrobe to retrieve his regular clothes. For a long long time, he sat staring at the mirror, the simple clothing in his lap, studying his own reflection with increasing agitation.
Suddenly, he stood up and proceeded to tear the robes off of his body, one at a time until they lay in a shredded pile at his feet. If he had had access to the airlock, they would have been flying into space. As it was, he left them on the floor and threw himself on the bed, dry-eyed and miserable.
Once, he'd known exactly who and what he was; what he had been since he was two years old. He had been proud of his accomplishments, his beauty, his desirability. Now, despite that moment by the lake a month ago, he felt entirely adrift. He didn't know what he was anymore. Worse, evidently neither did anyone else.
His Master didn't value his padawan status except as a dupe to lure his victims, so much so that his own veracity was doubted. This conflict was taking every bit of pride he'd ever felt and making it dust in his mouth.He wished he could cry, but he was far too unhappy. So he simply stared at the porthole, watching the stars and wondering if he would ever know what it felt to be whole again.
XIV
He saw the shuttle pull away, heard the engine begin to hum, watched the stars drift to streaks of light as they shifted to hyperdrive. His Master would be settled in the big chair, his hands pressed into the console, more communing with his ship than piloting her. Devoutly, he wished he could have such a link with anyone who could understand him. He thought he had figured this out until he realized just how little Qui-Gon cared that he was a padawan. He had brought everything he was to the relationship, but it meant nothing. His pride, his skill, his very self....it all meant nothing. The only things that seemed to matter to his Master were the endless drills and meditations and whatever other archaic nonsense he taught. All a lie.
He was still staring out the porthole when Qui-Gon entered the chamber.
"Tha' went well."
He stopped, looking down at the destroyed clothing at his feet, its torn shreds piled atop the boy's regular tunics and leggings. Obi-Wan hadn't moved or turned to look at him. He sat down on the bed and reached out to touch the slender shoulder. There was no response.
"Stop sulkin'"
Obi-Wan never moved.
"All right, boy. Wha's the matter?"
"He didn't believe me." It was a whisper of pain.
"Didna believe wha'?"
Obi-Wan flipped the braid across his neck to hang over his left shoulder across his back.
"Oh, tha'" Qui-Gon was silent for a moment. "Obi-Wan?"
Again, there was no answer.
Qui-Gon sighed. "He's a fool. Why do ya say he didna believe ya?
Obi-Wan turned slowly, but refused to look at his Master. "He called it a 'pleasure boy hairdo'. And treated me like one. Not that you'd care anyway."
"Why do ya say that?"
"You don't. It doesn't matter to you. All you care about is...oh, just leave me alone!"
Qui-Gon grabbed both slim arms and gave him a little shake. "Why do ya say that!!?" he repeated, his voice a little harder.
Obi-Wan looked at him, his eyes gone grey and cold and lost. "I heard you, you know. In the tower room a month ago. You called me a glorified bedslave."
His Master sighed deeply. " I know ya heard. Why do ya think I came after ya by the lake?"
"I don't have any idea." The boy's voice was bitter. "Why bother with a padawan? You could have had your drill-time fun with some brothel boy." He smiled coldly. "Most are not as dumb as they act. It would have been considerably cheaper. And it wouldn't have hurt them to be called a liar."
Qui-Gon shook his head. "You little fool!! I wanted you because you're a padawan."
"Right." Obi-Wan's ruddy head dropped again. "Sure you did. That's why all you've done all these months is make me feel as though I had something to be ashamed of, as though I were dirt under your feet. A toy to retrain. Thank you very much, Master. It's so delightful to be valued!" His voice was soft with scorn.
Qui-Gon pulled him close and he didn't resist, nor did he respond. He simply allowed himself to be held. The long silvering hair spilled over his bowed head, tickling his bare shoulders. Then he felt Qui-Gon's chin resting gently atop his head.
"Oh, Obi-Wan!" he whispered, unmistakable pain in his voice. "My Obi-Wan, can ya not trust me a little while longer?"
The boy's head shook slightly. "How, Master? How can I trust you when I don't understand why you ever wanted me in the first place?" He sighed and remained as still as a statue for a long time.
Slowly, Obi-Wan pulled away and looked up, his face very small and white except for the purpling bruise on his cheek. "Please tell me, Master. Tell me something! Anything at all. I feel so---" he turned his head and glanced out the window at the racing, streaking stars. "So lost."
Qui-Gon bit his lip. His eyes closed, brow furrowed. "I canna tell you everything, love. But I can tell ya that I wanted you. Not just because ya're a padawan. Tha' was very important. Very. But I wanted you, Obi-Wan. I saw ya and I wanted you. "
The boy smiled tremulously. "All from one holo-vid auction?"
The broad chest heaved in a long sigh. "No. I'd seen ya before. On Coruscant. A few times in fact."
Obi-Wan's eyes clouded with confusion. "On Coruscant!!? Coruscant!!! When were you on Coruscant?!"
"I was there six months before the bloody auction. And a month before. I'd seen ya in the Pavilion Gardens first. Ah damn it, I canna explain to ya now. " He grabbed Obi-Wan's shoulders hard. "You've got t'believe me, boy. I canna tell you why, don't ask. But I found you."
Obi-Wan shook his head wearily. "Oh, all right. I won't ask. I'm yours anyway." He took a deep breath and straightened his spine. "Keep your secrets, Master. I won't ask again."
Qui-Gon rose, his hands clenched into fists. For a few minutes, he paced around the small room like a caged animal. Obi-Wan stared listlessly at his bare toes, listening to the sound of his Master's footfalls.
Finally, Qui-Gon stopped and lifted the boy's head with a firm hand. "Work it out for y'self, lad!" he rasped. "What's the common denominator? What does a padawan have tha' my teachin' requires?" The blue eyes were intent.
Obi-Wan blinked, a small line creasing between his brows. "The Force."
"Right. So why's it such a mystery?"
"But you never wanted anything I was taught!"
//Oh I didna?// a low chuckle.
Obi-Wan glared at him. "I meant anything other than that!"
Qui-Gon shook his head and pulled the boy up into his arms. "And who taught me how t'eat properly? Who got Mairteth to stop burnin' every last morsel i' the house? Who's taught who, Obi-Wan?"
His shining head cocked to one side, he considered his Master's words. "I guess I never thought of it." he said slowly. Even as he said it, he remembered Kal's words: //'Teach him. But never let him know'.//
//Don't be ridiculous, lad!! Of course I knew. And wanted it. Why else would ya be with me?//
"So does that mean the only things you want from my training is table manners and a good cook?" his face was serious but his eyes had begun to dance.
"Brat!!" Qui-Gon smacked his bottom.
"Or was that a good cock?" a murmur of a sound.
//I don't believe it!! Did ya really just say that out loud?//
Obi-Wan's eyes were glowing green coals in the white fire of of his face. Qui-Gon touched his cheek gently.
"I'm sorry about that. I've a nasty temper."
He laughed softly. // Did you really just say that?//
Qui-Gon threw himself down on the bed and grabbed the boy close. "You are such a bloody brat! But you taste too good---" and all speech was drowning against Obi-Wan's parted lips.
He let his Master kiss him, exploring with quick strokes of his tongue,his mouth a sweet source of passive heat. The kiss became more insistent, the tongue demanding response and still he waited, allowing the melting heat to build in the swirl of wet warmth that pierced his lips. Finally, slow and tentative, his tongue snaked around his Master's, heat upon heat, caressing lips and teeth with quick, feathery touches, as his hands twined around the broad shoulders.
The comlink interrupted, Syrene's metallic voice echoing slightly. "Dulaan? I sense agitation."
Qui-Gon broke free enough to raise his head. "Um...everything is fine, darlin'. "
Obi-Wan's tongue lapped at his earlobe.
//Agitation? That's a new word for it!!//
Qui-Gon pulled him atop his tall body, resuming their kiss with enthusiasm. //Shhhh....she gets a bit...jealous.//
Obi-Wan's shoulders shook a little with laughter until Qui-Gon silenced the giggle, his blunt fingertips crushing one rosebud nipple hard. The boy moaned and writhed above him, warm lips dancing along his jaw down into the hollow of his throat.
Their hips were moving together, hardness pressed to hardness, hands beginning to wander under one another's clothing.
"Tha' feels so good!" Qui-Gon muttered into the boy's hair as Obi-Wan's fingers reached beneath his leggings to tease along the crease of his thighs. Light caresses fluttered between their bodies, Qui-Gon's hands on the rounded buttocks, Obi-Wan's lips glued to his, mouths open and pouring into one another. The heat around them was palpable, a living thing that shimmered as they dove together, lost in one another's bodies.
"Dulaan, we have a problem."
Qui-Gon heard the comlink and ignored it, his tongue delving deep into Obi-Wan's mouth.
"Dulaan, we are out of hyperdrive."
The nectar sweetness of that mouth was intoxicating. He grunted at the voice, his lips too occupied for thought.
"Dulaan, we are---"
A great rocking nearly sent Obi-Wan flying off him. He sat up abruptly, his hand immediately reaching for the scrolled bulwark behind him.
"Syrene, wha' was that!!"
"Dulaan, we are being fired upon. Port bow, two ships. Photon blasts. Shields are damaged."
Qui-Gon bounded to his feet. "I'm on my way to th' bridge." His eyes met Obi-Wan's briefly. "Get dressed. There may be trouble."
He disappeared through the door at a dead run.