Archive: Master & Apprentice, SWA-L and The Nesting Place,
anyone else please ask!
Category: A/U, Action/Adventure, Drama
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Q/O
Summary: Ben's past catches up with him - and leads him to a
new calling. Disclaimer: Don't own them, George Lucas does. If
I did they would have had a much happier ending! The planet
Golgatha as well as the general idea of the Arena and the Games
are borrowed from Simon R. Green's _Deathstalker_ series - no
copyright infringement intended as no money is being made off
of this. Feedback: Yes please, it's addictive!
Author's Note: Dedicated to Emu who made me promise quite a
while ago that I wouldn't be too mean to Bruck. Just imagine
what I would have done to him if I hadn't given her my word!
<g> Destina, Heather, Tracey, thanks as always for
catching my goof-ups!
There was no reason to feel threatened, but Ben couldn't rid
himself of the feeling that he was going into hostile
territory. Bant, the padawan who had been Obi-Wan Kenobi's best
friend during his time at on Coruscant, had cajoled him into
joining her in the dining hall for the morning meal. 'To catch
up,' was how the salmon-skinned Mon Calamari had put it, the
only thing that Ben felt he was catching was the inquisitive
looks from the beings at nearby tables.
No visible danger, but still undercurrents flowed fast and
thick around them and more then a few hushed conversations were
silenced as they passed on their way to a small table off to
one side of the cavernous room.
Ben sat with his back to the wall, eating his meal without
really tasting it as his eyes scanned the room. Like so many
things about the Jedi Temple it was familiar, but then again
not, like a picture viewed through a warped glass.
"If Reeft was here, he would be glad to see that you aren't
eating," Bant said, drawing Ben's attention back to her. His
gaze centered on her chest before he raised it, cursing the
duality of what he knew versus Obi-Wan's memories. To his way
of thinking, Bant was a ten year old initiate, the way she had
been when he saw her last. Though from a tall people, she had
still been several inches shorter then Obi-Wan. To look across
at her now and find himself having to tilt his head upward was
another reminder of the time that had been lost.
"Reeft could get his own food," he answered, washing another
bite of the mildly spiced egg dish down with a swig of steaming
tea. How many more of Obi-Wan's friends were going to 'stop by'
for a visit today? And how long would it be before he blew up
at one of them for insisting that he be the young man who had
been lost so long ago?
"You never minded sharing with him before, Obi-Wan."
"Ben," the fighter corrected shortly. "And you're going to
find that I'm a lot of things that Obi-Wan wasn't. If that
causes you a problem, I'll take my leave of you now."
Bant shook her head at that, reaching across to place her hand
on Ben's arm, then pulling back as he jerked his arm out of the
way. "Please forgive me, Ob - Ben. I should not expect for you
to take up as things were before, I was just so happy to hear
that you were alive and to see you again . . ." The apprentice
broke off at that and began twisting her napkin in
distress.
His inner consciousness prodding him to behave, Ben forced
himself to relax back into his seat once more. "Finding a past
you never knew existed isn't easy on anyone involved and then
being dropped into the midst of it . . . It's not what I had
imagined for myself."
"And what had you thought your future would bring."
Ben smiled cynically at that, the hard-edged fighter slipping
his bonds for a moment. "Death. It was the only certainty of
the Arena."
The padawan's skin flushed darker in an expression of her
shock and her large eyes grew even wider. "But certainly -
Master Qui-Gon didn't say anything to my master. . . "
After letting the young woman flounder around trying to
rectify the situation for a moment, Ben took pity on her. "The
story is not Qui-Gon's to tell. Not to you, your master, or
anyone."
"What about the Council?"
"If they want to know, they can ask me." The fighter pushed
his plate away, ending the conversation. A glance around the
room showed that it was emptying out though those seated
nearest to them seemed much too interested in their
conversation for his liking. "So who is your master?" he
finally asked, unable to quash the bout of curiosity.
Bant looked relieved at the change of topic and leaned
forward, her whole demeanor lightening. "Knight Jercole. Do you
remember him?"
Ben did - or rather Obi-Wan did, vaguely. Jercole had passed
his trials not long before Kenobi's twelfth birthday, his had
been the last knighting ceremony that Obi-Wan had seen.
"How do you like it?" Thankful that years in the Empress's
court had taught him to mask his true feelings, Ben kept the
question neutral. While in all honesty he wasn't envious of his
friend's fortune, the part him that had been Obi-Wan was hurt
and more than a little jealous.
"It's different then I ever imagined," Bant answered quickly.
"I guess we all had visions of what it would be like to be an
apprentice, but the truth of it is both better and worse then I
expected."
Ben made a noncommittal noise, and she continued. "He's
teaching here this half-year so we aren't out in the field.
Before that we spent two years on Verakn VI trying to settle
their succession dispute. I saw things then I wouldn't have
believed."
_Kill someone you thought was a friend and then talk to me
about things you can't believe,_ Ben thought sarcastically,
wondering if Bant had always been that innocent or if he was
simply that jaded now. Forced to admit it was probably the
latter, the fighter revised his opinion of the apprentice
slightly. Successions could be brutal, so it was possible that
she had seen some of the horrors people could perpetuate
against each other.
A server cleared away their dishes and the conversation
vanished as if it had been carried off as well. After several
aborted efforts to begin again, Bant sighed and checked her
wrist chrono. "I am sorry that this didn't work out as I had
hoped, Ben. I feel that I know you, but I don't. I suppose that
my only thought was that my friend was back, not of what he had
been through." Tears glinted in her eyes, dulling their silvery
shine. "I have a sparring session, but if you would like, I can
show you back to Master Qui-Gon's rooms first."
Guilt was an emotion that Ben wasn't over familiar with, but
he recognized it for what it was when it nudged him. "Is it an
open session?"
"Wha - Yes it is." The Mon Calamari looked cautiously
optimistic at the question.
"Would you mind if I joined you? I haven't had a good workout
in too long." It was as close as Ben got to an apology and he
hoped that Bant understood it was offered as such.
"I'd like that," she smiled. "And after, perhaps we can talk
more - to try and get to know each other again?"
More talking. Ben almost grimaced, but hid it as he rose from
his seat. "Let's see what the day brings, all right?"
"Fair enough."
"Enjoy the wine, did you?"
Qui-Gon could have sworn that his former master was smirking
as he asked this, but the aura of the Force that surrounded the
diminutive Jedi remained as serene as always.
Very little seemed to bother the oldest Jedi. In fact, Qui-Gon
could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times he
had seen Yoda upset over an occurrence. It was with a twinge of
guilt that he remembered one of those times involved his
refusal to take Obi-Wan Kenobi as a padawan.
"The wine was an excellent vintage, Master. Thank you."
Perhaps one of the reasons that little surprised Yoda was
because he had such a strong sense of the future. When the
outcome of an action had already been laid before you, there
was little chance of shock.
Yoda settled himself onto the low, concave chair and directed
Qui-Gon to the one opposite it. The lighting in his quarters
was dim as always and the higher humidity made Qui-Gon's robe
sag limply over his large frame. "Enjoyed it your bondmate did
as well?"
After taking the offered seat, folding his long legs beneath
him to get comfortable, Qui-Gon nodded. "He seemed to."
"And what came after?" The wizened face creased into a grin
and his eartips swiveled forward until they were upright.
"I do not believe that is any concern of yours, Master."
"Concern it is when involves the health of your bond it does!
Learn to live with it you both must or grave danger awaits.
There is much anger in young Kenobi. He will need you to
balance and overcome it."
"Ken'ba," Qui-Gon corrected.
"Ken'ba, Kenobi, the same he is with the Force. Strong he was
and strong he remains. Focus he needs, just as diversion you
did."
"I don't quite follow you."
"Blame yourself for what happened to him you do, just as you
blame yourself for the loss of Xanatos. Motivates your actions
these things do. Learn to live with them you must."
"I . . ." Qui-Gon rested his elbows on his knees and stared
into his master's pale eyes. "I was told much the same thing
yesterday."
"Ha!" Yoda chuckled and slapped the side of his chair,
enjoying his former padawan's discomfort. "Good for you he is,
and good for him you are also. Teach him to trust, Qui-Gon, and
a strong ally you will have in the years to come."
"Another of your visions, Master?" Qui-Gon asked wryly.
The elder Jedi looked off into the distance, his eyes going
unfocused as he looked with his sense of the Force and not his
sight. "Blood and betrayal I see, but from it will come unity
and new life. Believe what the Force tells you, not what you is
before you."
Qui-Gon had heard enough of these prophecies that he knew
better then to take them literally. "That sounds more like you
are discussing the past rather then what is to come. Are you
sure that isn't what you saw?"
Yoda gave a disgusted noise and waved his hand in the air.
"Too grounded in the here and now you are. Never could I teach
you to learn from what might come."
"We all have our strengths, Master. It is well that I
recognize mine as well as my deficiencies."
"Stubborn . . ."
Qui-Gon inclined his head, smiling fondly at the being who was
a mainstay in his faith in the Force. "I had only the best
instruction in that field of study."
"Easier to handle when younger you were," Yoda sighed,
reaching for his datapad. "Now then, off with you. I have much
to do and others wish to speak to you. Your bondmate I wish to
see before the evening meal. Tell him this."
_Warn him you mean,_ Qui-Gon told himself, imagining Ben's
reaction to whatever pronouncements Yoda would have. "As you
wish," he said, standing and bowing toward the small
being.
"It is good to have you back, Qui-Gon," Yoda smiled, glancing
up at his former student before turning his attention back to
the report in front of him.
"Thank you, Master."
As he stretched out, Ben watched the padawans as they sparred
with each other. Most of the apprentices were practicing with
their lightsabers, but a few were working on hand-to-hand moves
and it was those who held the fighter's interest.
Picking a pair at random, Ben focused on the larger of them
and slid into motion as if he were the one who was fighting.
Block, jab, side-step, a try at a throw . . . There. An opening
that the young man's opponent failed to take advantage of but
that any seasoned fighter would have seen.
Falling back into the rhythm of the match, Ben only watched
three blows before another defensive lapse showed itself. He
shook his head in disgust, wondering how any of these students
lived through their lessons.
"Ben? Is there something wrong?" Bant asked, powering down her
violet lightsaber as she stopped by his side.
"Who teaches you hand-to-hand?"
She tilted her head, glancing toward the pair he had been
watching. "Our masters when we're in the field, Master Alemin
here at the Temple. Why?"
"And they don't bother to . . . Never mind," he sighed.
Getting involved in a debate over this matter was a futile
effort at best.
"Don't what, Ben?" Some of the other padawans had stopped
working and were drifting closer, interested in the
conversation.
_Innocent as babes._ Ben looked around at the curious faces,
feeling that strange duality again as he recognized - or
thought he did - several of the older students. "What do you
when someone doesn't fight by the rules?"
"I've never . . ." Bant exchanged puzzled looks with the
others before turning her attention back to Ben. "What do you
mean?"
"Cheats? Fights dirty? Violates your code?"
"But no one here would do that," she exclaimed,
horrified.
"Jedi do not cheat," one of the young men asserted. His
pronouncement was followed by a murmur of agreement from the
others.
"But those you may be fighting one day probably will." Ben
sighed at their naiveté. "Anyone care to volunteer for a
demonstration?"
"I will." The dark-haired padawan Ben had been watching
earlier stepped forward. "You're Kenobi. I heard about you,
some off-world killer or something."
"Or something," the fighter replied wryly.
"Don't think I'm going to take it easy on you because you
aren't one of us."
"Renes . . ." Bant broke off as the circle around the two men
widened and she was pushed backwards.
"I wouldn't dream of asking you to." The anticipatory looks
around him reminded Ben of the spectators who attended the
Games primed for bloodshed. _Jedi are subject to the same
emotions as all other beings._ That fact had certainly been
brought home in the way Qui-Gon reacted to their bond.
"It's all right Bant," he assured the Mon Calamari. "No one is
going to get hurt."
"So you say now." With that, the padawan launched himself at
the fighter, aiming a series of blows at his face and
body.
Ben blocked the hits, then kicked out at his opponent's knee,
spinning when the padawan side-stepped the movement, grabbed
his foot, and twisted it. They circled each other warily then,
watching for openings and opportunities.
Another exchange of blows that left the apprentice with a
bloodied nose and Ben with a split lip followed, but still
neither could claim an advantage in the match. The whispered
comments from the others in the room grew gradually louder,
until the apprentices were shouting advice and
motivation.
The next time they closed, Ben let the apprentice grab his
left arm, dragging him closer. Then, even as the other man was
beginning to grin at his apparent victory, the fighter twisted,
sweeping his foot behind the padawan's as he rammed his elbow
into his gut, bringing his fist up into his face to finish the
match.
As Ben straightened, he was greeted by silence and shocked
stares from the other young Jedi. His opponent lay curled on
the ground, moaning, his arms wrapped around his stomach.
_Least I didn't kill him,_ Ben muttered to himself. Jinn never
said anything about not beating the shit out of someone. He
studied the apprentices, noting that most of them refused to
look him in the eye, and that even Bant looked wary.
That hurt, but, being used to a solitary lifestyle, it was a
pain that could be dealt with and exorcised. "That was what I
meant," he said, glancing back at the dark-haired youth, then
starting for the door.
"Wait . . ." At the half-gasped exclamation, Ben stopped,
looking back to see the other man staggering to his feet.
"Can't go - Need to show me the counter to that," he rasped,
straightening up and wiping the blood from his face.
Unbelieving, Ben stared at the padawan, then at the others in
the room.
"Please Ben," Bant added. "I know I'd like to learn how to
defend against that move - and any others you can teach
me."
"As would I." The apprentice he had fought held out his hand
in a gesture of peace. "I'm Renes Fel. Sorry for what I said
earlier."
Slowly the others stepped forward, offering names and
questions, then the training began again.
The thunder of the water of the shower drowned out whatever
noise Qui-Gon may have made when he entered his rooms, but Ben
was aware of his arrival due to the heightened awareness of the
bond they shared.
The chance to stand and let the steaming water pound down on
his back and neck was a luxury the fighter had seldom allowed
himself on Golgatha. Even with alarms and sensors, the echoing
confines of a bathing room were not somewhere to be considered
safe. Here however . . . Odd as it seemed and much to his
disgruntlement, Ben felt at ease here.
A silent probe of a question nudged at his shields and Ben
straightened, turning his neck to let the water massage out the
tightness in his shoulder. Too long without a good workout. He
shouldn't be this sore from what he had done in the training
room. "Come in." He rolled his neck again, allowing the spray
to reach the other side, wondering why the other man simply
hadn't walked in.
"I didn't want to barge in on you," Qui-Gon stated, telling
Ben that his question hadn't been so silent after all.
"Not anything you haven't seen before," Ben shrugged, reaching
his arm over his head to try and pop the stiffness out of his
shoulder.
The Jedi chuckled at that and peered around the edge of the
enclosure, his eyes narrowing as he took in the new batch of
bruises on the younger man's body and his swollen lip. "And I
hope I get to see it again in the future without the colorful
additions. Mind telling me what happened?"
"Met some of Kenobi's old friends and ended up practicing some
hand-to-hand with them. You Jedi are suckers for dirty tricks."
Ben turned to glance over at Qui-Gon, but he had vanished from
sight once again. "Someone needs to show those kids what an
opponent who doesn't give a crap about your 'Code' can do or
they're going to be in for it."
"Interesting comment . . ." Qui-Gon mused, his words sounding
slightly muffled.
Ben moved to look out of the sandstone enclosure, but found
himself turned back to the wall by the now half-clad Jedi.
"Your pants are getting wet," he growled, biting back the groan
as Qui-Gon's strong fingers dug into his knotted muscles.
"They'll dry. You need to relax some a'shera. It looks as if
those "soft Jedi students" gave you a workout."
"Can't . . . demonstrate moves without . . . taking a few
hits." Ben's words were punctuated by soft grunts as the
massage progressed from his shoulders up to his neck.
Qui-Gon murmured his agreement and continued the massage,
working his hands lower as the taut muscles relaxed beneath the
motion. The tingling heat generated by the older man's hands
confused Ben until a bit of probing proved to him that Qui-Gon
was using the Force in his work, encouraging the circulation in
the injured areas to lessen the bruising and stiffness. As
Qui-Gon's hands moved downward, Ben groaned deep in his throat.
Although the rest of his body was well on the way to feeling
boneless, his cock was now hard and aching.
The need thrummed across the bond and Qui-Gon's hands faltered
for a moment before gliding around to encircle and stroke Ben's
shaft. The fighter arched into Qui-Gon's touch, his need
tearing a desperate moan from his throat. His back arched and
his fists clenched against the smooth stone wall as Qui-Gon
slowly pumped his erection.
Giving in to the need that swept over him, Ben spun, dragging
Qui-Gon down to ravage his mouth while their hips bucked
together. The soaked fabric of the Jedi's leggings was only a
thin barrier between them, but Ben wanted it gone. He let go of
his handhold in the other man's hair to rip at the bindings to
his pants. Together they were pushed them down past Qui-Gon's
hips and to the floor where they lay in a sodden heap.
Desperation colored their movements as they came together
again, hands clawing, hips straining, lips and teeth closing
over whatever flesh was available. Chance aligned their shafts
together and the two men locked into that position, thrusting
and rocking together as the water cascaded down around them,
rendering them oblivious to the rest of the world. Heat spurted
between them, the flash-fire of orgasm racing across the bond,
causing both men to climax at the same time.
As the thundering of their pulses slowed and the warmth of
their seed was washed away by the spray, Ben and Qui-Gon
remained locked together, their minds still entwined. Finally,
Ben inhaled deeply and raised his head from the taller man's
shoulder to stare into his eyes.
"What is it, a'shera?"
Ben stretched, the movement sliding his body along Qui-Gon's
body and bringing a slight smile to his lips. "I was just
wondering how long it was going to be before we were going to
be able to touch without the need to fuck each other's brains
out."
The older man laughed aloud at that. "I have no idea, perhaps
when you talk to Master Yoda this afternoon, you can ask
him."
"I may . . . I don't recall agreeing to talk to him." As he
spoke, Ben pulled away from Qui-Gon and stepped out of the
stall, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around his waist.
"He would like to speak to you alone. He has a great fondness
for you." Qui-Gon wrung out his hair, then followed his
bondmate into the bedroom, drying off as he went.
"He had a fondness for Kenobi you mean."
"No, for you. If you don't want to go, you don't have to. I
will send your regrets." Qui-Gon moved to key the comm pad, but
Ben stopped him before the motion was completed.
"I didn't say I didn't want to, I'm just not thrilled with
plans being made without my knowledge."
The Jedi chuckled, then brought Ben's hand up to his lips.
"Thank you."
Ben scowled and rolled his eyes toward the ceiling at that,
then pulled his hand away so that he could begin
dressing.
In the two weeks since his arrival at the Jedi Temple, Ben had
developed a rough schedule designed to keep him from going stir
crazy while Qui-Gon was in his endless rounds of meetings
involving the situation on Golgatha.
Most days involved several hours in the study of astrophysics,
a subject that had fascinated him as a boy and, as he found
out, still held great interest to him. Next came practice and
sparring with the ever-broadening circle of apprentices who
came to learn his 'street tricks'. The attendance of the
sessions fluctuated from day to day depending on what classes
were going on and who had been sent on a mission, but the core
group of twelve attended whenever they were able.
Afternoons were given to talks with Master Yoda, something
that Ben viewed with a perverse anticipation. The old Jedi
offered him no slack when it came to dealing with his past. On
one memorable occasion, he had dumped Ben on his backside when
he erupted in a fit of temper at something.
Evenings were spent with Qui-Gon or Bant and some of the
others. The Mon Calamari had even managed to get him to go out
shopping once by wondering aloud when his clothes were going to
fall off him.
As alien as this all was to his life on Golgatha, Ben found
himself feeling comfortable with it - and he found himself more
at ease with his bondmate and the others then he ever felt
possible.
"You're shifting your weight too soon, it's telegraphing what
you're going to do." The explanation was given patiently as he
corrected the young boy's posture, then watched him repeat the
move on his larger partner. "Better, that was better." The
blond youth, one of the youngest included in the sessions,
beamed as if he'd been given a prize instead of a word of
praise, then went back to his work.
The door slid open and Ben glanced over to see who was coming.
A trio of young men swaggered in, laughing at something that
had been said before they entered.
At the sight of the white-haired man in the center of the
group, Ben froze, his face twisting as he recognized another
person from his past - one he had hoped never to see
again.
"Ben? How was that?" The question went unanswered while the
fighter tracked the newcomers as they crossed the room.
"Hey Bant, heard you started some class with my old friend
Oafy-Wan. That a joke or what?"
"Bruck, I wouldn't . . ."
The mention of the hated name was all the confirmation Ben
needed and his hands clenched into fists though he tried to
remain calm and detached.
"That must be him over there, certainly not any Jedi, that's
for sure." Sneering at his old nemesis, Bruck muttered
something that had both his friends snickering then looked back
at Ben disdainfully.
The years may have added inches and muscle to the other man,
but the same haughty glimmer lurked in his dark brown eyes. His
long padawan braid trailed down his chest, the beads and ties
marking his rise through the levels of apprenticeship. From the
number of them it would not be long before Bruck Chun became a
Jedi Knight.
The thought of it made the remnants of Obi-Wan Kenobi that
dwelt inside Ben almost physically ill. _How is it that he can
become a Jedi when I wasn't worthy?_ Shaking off that
destructive line of thought, Ben studied the newcomers
impassively. "Did you come to participate? Because otherwise
you'll have to leave."
"And if we don't want to?" The padawan's posture turned
slightly more aggressive and Ben found himself responding in
kind.
"Don't see what gives you the right to try to instruct any of
us anyway."
"Stop it Bruck," Bant frowned. "Ben is trying to . . ."
"Trying to worm his way back into the Temple? I heard he
already managed to land in Master Qui-Gon's bed." Bruck smirked
at that and elbowed the apprentice to his left. "Guess Jinn
decided he was good for something after all."
The other two snickered, but the sound was more nervous then
anything.
"Then I guess you shouldn't have any trouble taking me down
Padawan Chun." Ben's eyes flicked from the long, white braid to
the earring dangling from the younger man's left earlobe.
"Not in the way you're used to anyway." Bruck handed his saber
to one of his cohorts, then strode toward the center of the
room.
"Oh by the Force . . ." Bant murmured, watching Ben move into
position opposite his rival. Grabbing the two padawans nearest
to her, she leaned in to hiss into their ears. "Go get Master
Qui-Gon and Master Gallia _now_." The two pelted out of the
room, and she turned her attention back to the escalating
conflict.
"So how was being a farmer?" Bruck asked as he circled to the
right, gauging Ben's reaction time. "Heard you didn't last too
long at it."
Ben didn't bother to answer. Taunts were something he was
accustomed to. He was more concerned with his opponent's moves
then his verbal attacks. A quick feint drew Bruck in closer and
the two grappled, trading blows before breaking apart.
"Careful there Oafy-Wan, don't want to mess up your pretty
face. Qui-Gon might not like you as much then." Bruck's fist
glanced off Ben's cheek and the next caught him square in the
mouth before he returned the attack with a blow to the
apprentice's mid-section.
Ben spat out a mouthful of blood, then smiled at Bruck through
red-tinted teeth. "Don't think he'd care much about that. If I
were you I'd be more worried about how badly getting beaten
here is going to postpone you taking your trials. If they ever
let you take them that is . . ."
Ben had no way of knowing that Bruck's final tests had twice
been postponed before because his master said he wasn't ready,
but the words acted as a goad to the apprentice. With a roar of
rage, Bruck flung himself at the fighter, tumbling them both to
the mat. Pinning Ben to the ground, he hammered his fists into
any part of the other man he could reach, forgetting finesse in
his desire to do the maximum damage possible.
Held down with the Force as well as brute strength, Ben
twisted, searching for an avenue out. One arm was trapped
against his thigh by Chun's legs and the other was all he had
to block the blows coming at his head and chest.
The gleam of the earring dangling from Bruck's ear caught
Ben's attention and, with a flick of his wrist, he caught the
jewelry, ripping it from the apprentice's lobe in a gout of
blood.
The attack stopped as suddenly as it had started. Bruck
howled, covering his ear with both hands. Taking advantage of
the situation, Ben moved. He flipped the younger man to his
back and loomed in over him, his forearm pressed to Bruck's
throat, cutting off his air.
"Still think you can take me, Chun?" the fighter rasped,
leaning in close enough to stare into the Jedi's frantic eyes
and to hear his whistled attempts at breathing. "Let's see how
you like what this farmer does to you now . . ."
"Ben!"
"Bruck!"
Ben found himself forcibly pulled off the padawan's prone form
and turned to face his angered bondmate. "What is going
on?"
"Padawan, I would like to hear the same from you as well." Adi
Gallia may have been shorter then her apprentice, but she
pulled him to his feet with ease. Her baleful gaze had the
majority of the other apprentices slinking for the door the
moment after that.
Ben took a deep breath, then winced as pain tore through his
right side.
"Take them both to the infirmary you will," Yoda commanded. As
all eyes in the room turned toward him, the tiny master turned
and started down the hall. "Speak of it there we shall."
"I don't see what good locking them both in the same room
together will do."
"Other then leave me with a dead apprentice and you with a
dead bondmate."
The two Jedi stood outside the room in which Ben and Bruck had
been confined, both their expressions pensive. "Yoda . . ."
they sighed as one. There was just no understanding him at
times.
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