Series/Sequel: A sequel to A Place of Silence, which is
archived on my webpage. Picks up right where Silence left off.
Second in the "Devotion" series.
Rating: R for violence and other rather disturbing
aftermath-type-stuff
Archive: My homepage, M_A and The Nesting Place only; all
others ask first please.
Disclaimer: Lucas owns 'em. I use 'em. Lots.
Summary: Nope, you'll have to read it if you wanna
know...<g>
Authors' Notes: Taking a lot of liberties with canon here,
folks. In fact, it's become so distinctly a/u that I've given
this universe, and this unique version of Qui-Gon, a name to
distinguish it from the Desolation series.
Feedback: Yes please. I'm so curious to know what you think of
all this...and if there should be more.
He rose reluctantly toward consciousness, wondering briefly if
he had succeeded in achieving death. At the prospect of
oblivion, a surge of hopefulness touched his deadened heart.
It seemed like a distant wish sprung from dreams, at first; a
voice he knew could not be real, which called to him
repeatedly, with such desperate urging, such command.
"Obi-Wan." He resisted it, unable to face the unbearable,
familiar anguish that would accompany the darkness before his
open eyes, unwilling to risk discovering that the voice did not
belong to his Master. "Obi-Wan. Open your eyes. Open them."
He lived. The weight of realization crushed him. He was not
dead. And surely he had finally gone insane, for there were
arms around him, and they felt like the arms of his Master. He
knew it was dangerous, to be so perfectly deceived by the cruel
trickery of his own mind. He had no strength left to sever
himself from the embrace; instead, he willed himself deeper
into sleep. He would grow stronger, and then he would resist
them again.
"Padawan." The tone became rougher, more demanding. The
voice acquired an edge, layered with a barely contained
desperation. Obi-Wan felt the nebulous touch of someone
reaching out to him through the living Force...
The Force!
Obi-Wan's dormant senses sprang awake, flying out in every
direction as he reached out tentatively for the Force. It
answered his call immediately, surrounding him, coursing
through him like blood through empty veins, bringing new life
and burning the filth of captivity and helpless bondage away.
He drew in a wheezing breath as his body and mind joined
together in the Force. He began to grasp the reality of having
control at his disposal once again as the Force buffeted him,
rocketing across old wounds almost joyfully. Instinct took
over; Obi-Wan turned his head toward the warm body next to him
and directed an uneven tremor of Force energy in that
direction.
The energy was repelled by something much stronger than his own
ability; he felt it dissipate like water splashing across
rocks. The mind behind that power touched his through the
Force, enough for Obi-Wan to understand...to be certain, beyond
words, beyond unfounded dreams, to know who it was that
held him.
"Master."
Qui-Gon Jinn closed his eyes as the faintly spoken word
caressed his fractured soul. After a moment, he gathered
himself and said, "Yes...yes, Obi-Wan."
"Where...are we?" To his own ears, Obi-Wan's voice was alien.
He had not spoken for so long, and the sounds were hoarse
croaks. He realized suddenly that his throat was damaged; it
was almost a secondary concern after so many other injuries. He
ignored it, pushing away everything but the moment.
"Aboard a ship bound for a safe place." Qui-Gon traced a gentle
finger across Obi-Wan's cheek. "Open your eyes now."
"There's no point," Obi-Wan rasped. The light touch of a finger
brushed across his lips, hushing him, but he persisted. "I'm
blind." He said the words without feeling, without emphasis.
Qui-Gon felt a shudder begin at the base of his spine, but
gripped his control tightly with the force of all his will.
"There is a healer here with me. She can help you, but you'll
have to cooperate. Do as I ask."
Reluctantly, Obi-Wan complied, lashes fluttering down again
quickly over the blue shadows within, then lifting to reveal
the sightless green-blue eyes, fixed on a point straight ahead.
Qui-Gon stared down into Obi-Wan's face, transfixed. Without a
word, he shifted Obi-Wan's weight in his lap and looked up at
the healer, who was waiting patiently near the door. As the
woman quickly knelt beside the bunk, he felt Obi-Wan relax
again into his embrace, and resisted the urge to crush the
younger man to him.
"I could examine him more closely if you would lift him onto
the table there," the healer suggested softly.
"Examine him here." Qui-Gon felt no need to explain himself. As
his Master spoke, a small frown creased Obi-Wan's forehead,
clearing away as suddenly as it had come as the healer ran her
instruments over him, gauging his responses to various stimuli.
Her own expression betrayed her, and Qui-Gon's hand shot out,
grasping her wrist hard enough to cause pain. "What is it?"
"Tiny implants near the brain stem," she gasped, wrenching her
arm away. She glared at him. Slowly, Qui-Gon lowered his hand.
"They are having some sort of effect on the ocular nerves. I
don't recognize the technology."
"Can they be removed successfully?" Qui-Gon asked.
"I believe so. But I have limited supplies, and I can't-"
"You'll make do," Qui-Gon said with finality, dismissing her
doubts.
The healer studied him for a moment, her expression worried.
"You're Jedi, aren't you?"
"What's that to you?" Qui-Gon replied sharply.
"Why not take him to the Temple on Coruscant? They have healers
there much more experienced..." Her voice trailed off at the
look on Qui-Gon's face. "You are Jedi, aren't you?"
A palpable sense of unease pervaded the room, hanging heavily,
acquiring more weight each moment, until Qui-Gon answered the
question he'd been asking himself for many months. "No."
"Master!" Obi-Wan's genuine distress communicated itself
clearly; he felt as though he'd been struck. He had never known
his Master to deny what he was, what he stood for, not even in
the face of immense danger. And on the relative safety of a
ship already in space, there was no immediate threat, no
reason...
"Well, then," the healer said, looking from one to the other.
The face of the older man was perfectly calm, but she could see
a tempest raging in his eyes. And the younger Jedi was becoming
agitated very quickly. "I haven't anything for his pain, or to
put him to sleep."
"I'll take care of that."
"No, Qui-Gon," Obi-Wan said in alarm, knowing his Master meant
to send him into deep unconsciousness. He'd had no time to
thank Qui-Gon, to understand what had taken place; feelings of
confusion, of love and regret, were communicated clearly by his
objection. His sense of wasted time was acute.
"There's no help for it, Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon's voice changed
subtly as he spoke to the younger man; he pulled his apprentice
closer, and bent his head low to speak words only Obi-Wan was
meant to hear. "When you wake, beloved, there'll be time for
explanations. Now you must be made well."
"I understand, but-"
"Rest your voice, Padawan," Qui-Gon urged.
"If you are not Jedi, I cannot be your Padawan." The words came
quickly, showing Qui-Gon that Obi-Wan had lost nothing of his
stubborn defiance, or his questioning spirit. Qui-Gon set aside
his relief at that knowledge - he had always believed Obi-Wan
could endure, and would not be broken - but the possibility had
always remained in his mind, nagging at him, a question
awaiting an answer only Obi-Wan could provide.
"You are much more than that to me," Qui-Gon said, in such a
way that Obi-Wan shuddered with a thousand conflicting feelings
washing over him all at once. He had no time to sort them out,
for Qui-Gon's fingers soothed his forehead, focusing the Force,
wiping away all traces of awareness until blackness rushed up
against his thoughts. "Sleep now."
Darkness enfolded him.
The humming of the ship's hyperdrive was calming to Qui-Gon, as
he stood watching stars streak by, lighting a path to their
destination. He was weary in a way he hadn't believed would
ever be possible. For the hundredth time since their ship had
climbed into the sky, he reached out with something akin to
disbelief, sending his thoughts to touch Obi-Wan's, savoring
that simple pleasure.
Not for the first time, he debated waking Obi-Wan, just to see
the younger man move, to feel the joy which would come with
hearing his name spoken again. He hesitated for many reasons.
There would be an endless barrage of questions for which there
Qui-Gon had no answers; Obi-Wan would not be satisfied with
simple truths, not about something so important. He would want
the complicated inner structure of every decision, and would
press until he was satisfied.
Qui-Gon had undressed his lover as he slept, preparing him for
the surgery the healer performed to remove the mechanical
devices which had blinded him. Every wound and scar seemed
another blow to Qui-Gon's heart, sickening reminders of a year
gone by in anger and futility, now forever cloaked in the
madness of dark acts, dark thoughts which even now he could not
erase. He debated himself endlessly, acknowledging finally that
there was much he was unwilling to let go. The bitterness was
deep and harsh, and not easily set aside. And they were not yet
out of danger.
Qui-Gon turned his eyes toward the sleeping figure in the bunk.
Pale shoulders, thin and purpled with faint bruises, protruded
from underneath the blankets. Gray-black circles of fatigue
under Obi-Wan's eyes obscured the fair skin beneath, like
shadows across the moon. Qui-Gon's heart cracked open a bit
wider each time his eyes feasted on the sight before them.
A casual observer would not have detected the subtle shift in
Qui-Gon's posture as he backed up a step and turned from the
window, reaching toward the comlink panel. It was mid-morning
on Coruscant; the Council would be in session. It was time.
Sunlight streamed in through the windows of the Jedi Council
Chamber on the top floor of the Temple. Outside the windows,
the business of Coruscant progressed in the usual fashion; the
traffic moved in hive-like, never-ending patterns across the
sky, like swarming dark insects devouring nature.
Business progressed with unerring tedium inside the Council
Chamber as well. Master Saesee Tiin waved a small datapad
about, emphasizing his words by banging the pad on the arm of
his chair. "Dead weight. There is nothing to be gained by
retaining students who show no promise."
Master Windu shook his head impatiently. "It's far too early to
conclude they have no aptitude. Perhaps in time one of these
boys will find their calling as healers, or investigators. I
remind you that not all Force-adepts are suited for the life of
a warrior."
"And I'll point out that these boys are only ten and twelve.
Ample time for them to be chosen as Padawans," Master Gallia
observed.
Just then the Council was interrupted by a very young Padawan
who ran into the room at full speed, charging ahead like an
enraged bull, trampling decorum. "Master Yoda! Master Yoda!"
the girl cried, Padawan braid flopping about her ears.
"A moment, Padawan! Where is your respect?" Master Windu
admonished her sternly. He was gratified when she stopped,
flushed a deep crimson, and bowed politely to him.
"My apologies, Master Windu," she said breathlessly. "There is
an incoming transmission for Master Yoda!" As she spoke his
name, she turned somewhat gracelessly to Yoda and bowed again.
"From Master Jinn!"
Immediately, the Masters began to talk among themselves,
murmuring their surprise.
"In this place will I take the call," Yoda instructed the young
girl, who bowed and turned to run again before she had raised
completely from her bent position. Looking after her retreating
form, Yoda said, "Unexpected this is."
There was no time for speculation; the holographic image of
Qui-Gon Jinn appeared before them, crackling with static and
poor resolution. He bowed, but stiffly, as though his body had
forgotten how, and was not interested in being persuaded to
remember. "Master," Qui-Gon said, his expression unreadable.
"Well, Master Qui-Gon Jinn. Think you to call after so long and
be well received?" Yoda asked angrily, his words tinged with
relief that Qui-Gon lived, as well as irritation at his
stubborn foolishness. "What say you?"
"I've found Obi-Wan." A shocked gasp rose from the collected
Jedi; Yoda hushed them with a gesture as he motioned to Qui-Gon
to continue. "He was being held in a brothel on an outworld. I
am taking him to a safe place so he may begin his healing."
"Bring him here, you should!" Yoda barked. "Not whisk him off
again! A Jedi are you, as he is. Belong here you do."
Qui-Gon hung his head, deliberating the motive behind Yoda's
words. He could almost feel his old Master's mind slithering
around the edges of his own, looking for a point of entry to
exert his influence. "I cannot return to Coruscant."
"Know what you have done, the Council does." Yoda hesitated to
allow the implications to reach Qui-Gon. "Risked everything for
Obi-Wan, jeopardized yourself. Gave in to temptation to use
your skills as you wished. This cannot be ignored. Punishment
there will be, Qui-Gon. Return and face us. Let Obi-Wan be
healed here."
"No." Qui-Gon spat the word with vehemence. "He belongs with
me. I will not return. When Obi-Wan is well, he will have a
choice. Until then, my will is his."
"Reconsider," Yoda said. It was an order shaped in the form of
a request. Qui-Gon's image flickered once more, then vanished.
The room erupted in a cacophony of a dozen Jedi all talking at
once. Finally, Master Windu stretched out his arms and raised
his voice to be heard. "Enough! We must choose our path
carefully here. Much damage will be done to if we separate
Obi-Wan from Qui-Gon by force. Yet Qui-Gon's disregard of the
Code has become common knowledge here at the Temple." He laid
out the facts expectantly, waiting for the inevitable
discussion to follow.
"He is one of our greatest warriors!" Master Koth said,
seething. "This is outrageous. What kind of lesson is this for
the students?"
"A timely one," Master Gallia said, her words pointed. "We
should all have been so fortunate as to have a Master who would
risk his reputation and his future, at great personal cost, to
find us if we were in such a situation."
Master Windu shook his head, leaning forward and lacing his
fingers together. "He made this choice because Obi-Wan is his
lover, not because of his loyalty to his student. That changes
things considerably. The outcome is irrelevant. And he can't be
allowed to just whisk Obi-Wan off to parts unknown. The boy
could be injured, he could-"
"You don't seriously believe Qui-Gon would allow Obi-Wan to
suffer from lack of treatment rather than come here?" Master
Gallia cut off Windu with her skeptical, almost scornful words.
"You, who know him better than any of us save Yoda?"
"There is a larger issue here," Master Ki-Adi-Mundi
interjected. "Qui-Gon has used his Force abilities
indiscriminately. There is a personal price to be paid, yes, an
enormous one. Qui-Gon could yet turn to the Dark Side."
"If he hasn't already," muttered Master Koth.
"Pointless, this is." All heads turned toward Yoda, who had
been silent all along, until that moment. Painfully, the elder
Jedi levered himself out of his chair, leaning on his walking
stick, and moved slowly to the center of the room. He hesitated
there, collecting himself, head lowered; the others waited
quietly, dreading his words. The wizened face moved slightly,
as Yoda tilted his head to one side, nodding as if having
reached some hidden conclusion. "Changed is Qui-Gon, not afraid
to use the Force to his advantage. Ruthless and fearless he is;
I sense no remorse in him. His reasons matter not. Sanction his
actions, we must not." Yoda met Mace Windu's eyes. "A rogue
Jedi he is. He must be treated accordingly."
"Then someone must be sent...to deal with the situation,"
Master Rancisis said, acknowledging with his words what the
rest of them were thinking.
"I will go. If Qui-Gon has begun to turn, I will be able to
offer him a new perspective. Perhaps he can be reasoned with,"
Ki-Adi-Mundi offered.
"His Master was I." Yoda tapped the end of his walking stick
gently on the patterned floor, three times. "His Master I
always will be. I will go." No one in the room could argue with
the logic of Yoda's decision, on many levels. Of them all, Yoda
was the most powerful, the most adept in using the Force.
Qui-Gon's mastery of the Force surpassed many Council members;
they knew, and accepted, that he might be one among them were
it not for his fateful choice to embark on the lengthy search
for Obi-Wan. If any person other than his Padawan might hold
influence with Qui-Gon it would be Yoda.
"Where will you begin?" Master Windu asked.
Yoda closed his eyes; his head lifted, ears twitching as he
reached out with the Force. The room seemed to tremble with the
power Yoda channeled, as he cast his feelings outward, reaching
for Qui-Gon, his thoughts traveling the resonant bond of Master
and Padawan which could never be severed entirely. It took
several minutes.
"Think you to hide from me?" Yoda murmured, his upper lip
drawing inward against the resistance he encountered. "Hide,
you cannot." After a moment, his mental presence returned to
the room, drawn by duty. He turned his eyes to Ki-Adi-Mundi.
"To Messemer Prime he has gone, to conceal himself and Obi-Wan
among the Force-adepts."
"He will be much more difficult to find there," Master Billaba
pointed out, her eyebrow arching at the prospect.
"Difficult, yes." Yoda turned to Billaba, a look of intense
focus on his face. "Find him, we will."
It was much easier to coax him to consciousness the second
time. "Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon imbued the name with gentle urging.
The younger man stirred under his hand, and came awake with a
jerk. "Easy, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon told him, restraining him with
that same hand. It was surprisingly easy.
Obi-Wan seemed to be processing some sort of decision; a muscle
in his cheek twitched twice, before he set his jaw and opened
his eyes. He blinked, then turned his head and fastened his
eyes on Qui-Gon's face. Those eyes moved across every line,
every tiny point of the haggard expression on his Master's
face, noting the evidence of exhaustion, the thinness which was
never there before, the abundant silver in Qui-Gon's long hair.
He raised the darkening gaze to his Master's fathomless blue
eyes. "You haven't been taking care of yourself," he observed
simply, watching the joy that leapt into those eyes, and was
mirrored in his own, become quickly muted.
"I've been busy," Qui-Gon said wryly.
Obi-Wan dug a hand out from underneath the sheets and laid it
lightly on top of Qui-Gon's fingers where they rested on his
chest. "I know." They looked at one another for a long, long
moment, each understanding the another in ways too complicated
to be conveyed with clumsy words. Obi-Wan took a deep breath.
"I lost track of time while I was a prisoner. How long was
I...there?"
"Thirteen Standard months, give or take a few days."
"It seemed longer," Obi-Wan said absently. "I'm surprised the
Council allowed you to continue searching for me."
So there it was. The subtle introduction of the challenge; the
door was opened for Qui-Gon to explain what had happened.
Qui-Gon felt the press of Obi-Wan's need for information, knew
that he owed his Padawan the truth, but could not bring himself
to provide all the details.
"They weren't pleased with my decisions regarding your welfare.
They asked that I return to Coruscant and allow others to look
for you. I refused."
Obi-Wan searched for the truth in his Master's words, and found
it instead in what had not been said. "They didn't give you
permission..."
"I needed no permission, and asked for none. If a thief cuts
away a man's arms in the night, does he ask permission to make
himself whole again?" Qui-Gon's eyes blazed with defiance.
Obi-Wan had never seen his Master's emotions so openly
displayed. For the first time, Obi-Wan looked at his Master and
saw no serenity, no calm. Qui-Gon met Obi-Wan's quizzical gaze
and added fiercely, "Without you, there was nothing of
consequence in my life, Obi-Wan. Nothing mattered more than
finding you."
"All you've ever taught me...the life of a Jedi is bound by
duty..." Obi-Wan grasped at words, found them inadequate and
discarded them. He could not reconcile the overwhelming reality
of his Master's love for him with his sense that something was
terribly, horribly wrong. Even as he basked in the certainty
that he was cherished more deeply than he'd ever believed
possible, he set the feelings aside in order to reach a point
of clarity where Qui-Gon's actions were concerned.
It was as though Qui-Gon had looked straight inside him,
glimpsing his troubled heart and pulling it out into daylight
to be overturned. "My duty is to you," Qui-Gon said resolutely.
"If it was never clear to you before, let me be clear now."
"Qui-Gon..." Obi-Wan hesitated, wanting to put voice to a
thousand feelings at once, but utterly lost inside the vastness
of it all. He felt Qui-Gon waiting patiently, anticipating his
questions, reassuring him with a feather-light touch. Finally,
he asked the one question which broke forth from all other
possibilities. "When we reach Coruscant, what will happen to
you?"
"We're not returning to Coruscant."
Obi-Wan mulled it over, and asked, "Where, then?"
"Messemer Prime. I won't risk being separated from you again
until you've recovered." The weight of what might come to pass
in that distant time was left to fall in the spaces and cracks
between the words. Still, Obi-Wan would not let it drop.
"And then?" His fingers curled gently around Qui-Gon's. "What
then, Qui-Gon Jinn?"
His Master was silent.
Their ship docked in the periwinkle twilight in the spaceport
of Paramon, Messemer Prime's largest city. Qui-Gon had already
made arrangements for housing there, deep in the heart of the
planet's largest population of Force-adepts. All that remained
was to get Obi-Wan to their new home, which was proving
somewhat problematic.
For one thing, Obi-Wan refused all assistance. The surgery to
restore his sight had left him dizzy and off-balance. Qui-Gon
sat in a chair across from Obi-Wan, watching him wobble
unsteadily as he pulled his leggings, and tried to decide at
what point he would step in. He knew his Padawan wanted to
re-establish a normal routine as quickly as possible by taking
back control of even the smallest details. Qui-Gon respected
and understood that attitude, but he was chafing at the bit to
help, and it was difficult to wait until he was asked.
He stood, taking up an item of clothing from among those he'd
carried with him for over a year, and took it to Obi-Wan,
holding it out to him. "Yours, I believe," he said, offering
the tunic to his apprentice.
Obi-Wan reached out automatically, stopping just short of the
rough ivory fabric, then grasped it carefully and pulled it
from Qui-Gon's hand. "Thank you," he said, not meeting
Qui-Gon's eyes.
Qui-Gon stepped away as Obi-Wan pulled the tunic on slowly,
belting it with clumsy fingers, wincing as twinges of pain
jolted him with even the smallest movements. He pushed through
them, accustomed to them; they simply seemed magnified by
freedom. He sat down rather heavily, and pulled on first one
boot, then the second, aware that Qui-Gon was still watching
him like a mother hawk. He raised his head and said, "They
fit."
"They'll do until I can find others." He'd taken the boots from
a passenger aboard ship, who'd been very accommodating. In
fact, Qui-Gon suspected that same passenger was probably still
wandering about his quarters, looking for his leggings as well.
"Are you ready?"
"As much as I'll ever be." Obi-Wan straightened his shoulders.
A tiny smile appeared on his face. For the first time in a very
long while, he had the choice to stay or go, as he pleased. The
thought of it made him stand taller. He accompanied Qui-Gon
down the ship's long central corridor, noticing that Qui-Gon
was keeping pace with him rather than the reverse. Down the
ramp they went, and into the bustling spaceport. Obi-Wan
followed Qui-Gon dutifully for a few minutes, looking about him
as they moved through the busy streets. "Why did you choose
Messemer Prime, Master?" Obi-Wan asked curiously. He'd never
been to the planet and had heard very little about it.
"Most of the cities on this continent of Messemer Prime are
populated with colonies of Force-adepts who have refused to
have their children trained as Jedi. To them, it is a natural
genetic trait. Using the Force comes as naturally as breathing.
They don't want their children taken away and trained by us.
They prefer to do it themselves, within their families. The
sheer number of people using the Force routinely here will
confuse anyone who might be looking for us within the living
Force." Qui-Gon turned down a curving street running alongside
the city waterway. "This way. It isn't far."
"Won't they resent having Jedi among them?" Obi-Wan wondered.
He focused on making his legs move; they'd barely walked half a
mile and he was already tired.
"As far as these people are concerned, we're simply travelers,
looking for a place to rest for a short while. They won't take
any notice of us, as long as we remain inconspicuous."
Qui-Gon's face was grim, and his lips drew together in a tense
line as he watched Obi-Wan walking slightly ahead of him. The
younger Jedi was walking stiffly, limping slightly, and every
step jarred nerve endings still jangling with the memories of
recent abuse.
Abrubtly, Obi-Wan stopped, breathing heavily from exertion, and
wheeled on Qui-Gon. "Stop staring, I-" His own body betrayed
him, and he pitched forward, landing on one knee. He touched
the ground with one hand, steadying himself.
Qui-Gon moved to his side, dropping to one knee alongside him,
ignoring the curious glances of those passing by. "You were
saying?" he said, soft amusement and deep concern in his voice.
"I refuse to be treated like an invalid," Obi-Wan rasped
through gritted teeth. He swallowed hard against the ache in
his injured throat, aggravated by his shortness of breath.
"I want you to heal, Obi-Wan. You can see for yourself that
you've barely begun to do so. If you push yourself before
you're ready, I'll stop you, whether you ask for my help or
not." Qui-Gon meant for Obi-Wan to hear the warning in his
words, but his worry was palpable.
"I can do this," Obi-Wan answered, as though he hoped to
convince himself. He harnessed the Force and used it to give
himself a little extra energy as he rose from the ground. He
didn't bother to protest when Qui-Gon's hand slipped under his
elbow to lend extra support. Slowly, they started off again, at
half the speed they'd walked before.
It took less than ten steps to confirm Qui-Gon's suspicions,
and only his hand under Obi-Wan's arm saved the younger man
from a fall. Without hesitation, Qui-Gon swung Obi-Wan into his
arms, ignoring the scowl that darkened his Padawan's face. "I
warned you," he said simply, adding, "It's not the first time
I've carried you, Obi-Wan. And you have carried me as well."
"That's not the point," Obi-Wan said hotly, frustrated. His
voice had disappeared into a whisper that needed the balm of
absolute quiet in order to return to normal.
"Stop talking. It won't change anything, so save your strength
for a battle you can win." A sound somewhat like a growl made
its way out of Obi-Wan's throat, but he said nothing further.
A few more twists and turns in the street, and Qui-Gon stopped
in front of an innocuous dwelling set slightly in from the
street. He set Obi-Wan on his feet, keeping hold of him around
the waist, and keyed in the entry code he'd been given. As the
door slid open, Qui-Gon lifted Obi-Wan again and carried him
inside, as the door swished closed behind them.
Ki-Adi-Mundi paused in his reading to glance up at Yoda, who
was perched on the edge of his chair as though listening for
something. "You're disappointed in him," he said, noting the
deep sadness in Yoda's eyes. His old friend was as worried as
he's ever seen him.
"Disappointed, yes. Always the rebel, is Qui-Gon. Never the
easy path." Yoda's nose crinkled up as he added, "His greatest
strength, Obi-Wan is. Perhaps his Master's salvation will he
be."
"A rogue Jedi, yes. I can even see Qui-Gon delving into his
base emotions to use the Force to save that boy. But do you
really think he would turn?" Ki-Adi-Mundi had grave doubts
about the possibility.
"Long was the path to Obi-Wan, and difficult. Drifted far, he
has. Uncertain am I how far." Yoda's ears shifted forward
delicately. "Dangerous has he become."
"Yes," agreed Ki-Adi-Mundi. Glancing out the window at the star
patterns, he confirmed, "Soon enough, we'll know. We should
make plantefall in a few hours. Do you truly think we can find
them there, if they do not wish to be found?"
"Searching already, am I," Yoda said distantly, his eyes seeing
something very far away.
"Give me that," Obi-Wan said warningly, reaching out for the
soap. It seemed that every event was going to be a protracted
war between them now that Qui-Gon had laid down his ultimatum.
If Obi-Wan tried and failed to do what he set out to do, from
fastening his belt to walking across the room, Qui-Gon was
going to do it for him, until he was certain Obi-Wan would not
harm himself in the attempt. Obi-Wan didn't like it one damn
bit and had become more angry as the evening wore on.
Now he found himself seated in the bathing pool, because
Qui-Gon would not trust him to stand alone in the shower, and
his Master was preparing to bathe him. "Give it to me!" he
demanded. "I'm quite capable of washing myself." His eyes
narrowed as he prepared for an argument from Qui-Gon.
Qui-Gon said mildly, "I don't doubt it, Obi-Wan. But it would
please me to do it for you." He took the wind out of Obi-Wan's
protests. His heart ached as the younger man first frowned,
then sank lower in the tub, concealing more of his body from
Qui-Gon. He found shields slamming down between them as Obi-Wan
fought to hide his own acute discomfort and irrational fear
from his Master.
Qui-Gon leaned over and rested his forearms against the edge of
the tub, tossing the soap back into the water. "Obi-Wan," he
began quietly. "It will take time to conquer your fear. I don't
want to add to it, but you have nothing to be ashamed of. I
undressed you on the ship. I've already seen every mark on your
body. I've committed them all to memory." The immense horror he
felt over what had been done to Obi-Wan was a tiny speck on the
surface of Obi-Wan's pain, and he knew it. Vividly, he recalled
drawing his fingers across every winding cut, every white and
shrinking scar. He'd bathed them all with tears, surprised to
find how powerfully moved he was by the love he'd clung to for
this man, amazed that he could still feel such emotion after
the things he'd done in the service of it.
Obi-Wan felt the intensity of Qui-Gon's reaction to his abuse,
and it was too much. "I craved your touch almost as much as I
craved death," he said softly. "I dreamed about you touching me
with tenderness. And now I'm not sure I can stand it. I've had
too many hands on me, Qui-Gon."
"There has to be a beginning," Qui-Gon said, "but it will come
when you are ready." And he waited.
Obi-Wan shivered in the hot water. He had surrendered nothing
of himself while in the clutches of the slavers, had never let
down his guard, and had accepted only what he must to keep
himself alive, until he could see death as the only way he
might rejoin the Force. It was small comfort. He could feel his
strength returning, being fed by Qui-Gon's steady, devoted
presence. He looked at his Master's large hands, which he'd
imagined a thousand times, alone in the darkness. Their phantom
touch had helped to keep him sane.
He looked at Qui-Gon, eyes haunted, and nodded as he fished out
the soap and handed it to the Jedi Master. Qui-Gon took the
offering, deeply touched, and moved behind Obi-Wan, setting to
work with the gentlest motion imaginable. He lathered the thin
shoulders first, then the neck, stopping to dig his fingers
into the extremely tense muscles, feeling the tension melt away
with minimal resistance. He strove to keep his touch neutral,
in no way sexual, reveling in the feeling of being able to
break down this first barrier. His hands slid beneath the
surface of the water, down Obi-Wan's back, and quickly up again
to move down each arm in turn, then dipping to the front to
move briskly down the chest.
Qui-Gon set the soap aside and came around to the front,
quickly shucking off his clothes with business-like efficiency
and lowering himself into the water. Obi-Wan watched him,
showing no expression, as Qui-Gon took up the soap and returned
to his task. He lifted each of Obi-Wan's legs in turn, washing
his feet and calves, then his thighs, never lingering too long
in any one place. His hands dropped to Obi-Wan's waist, and his
eyes never left Obi-Wan's as he washed his genitals thoroughly
but impersonally. The gratitude in Obi-Wan's eyes was immense.
Qui-Gon cupped his hands and splashed water over the younger
Jedi to rinse the soapsuds away.
As Qui-Gon moved to begin washing himself, Obi-Wan watched
silently, and suddenly reached out to take the soap. "Let me,"
he urged. After a moment, Qui-Gon acquiesced, letting the soap
slide from his hand to Obi-Wan's. As their fingers touched, he
was surprised when Obi-Wan prolonged the contact a moment, then
pulled away quickly. "Obi-Wan..." he said roughly, not sure he
could trust himself.
"Let me, Master," Obi-Wan answered, not stopping in his
ministrations. He washed his Master just as he had been washed,
taking his time, finding pleasure in the touching much more
than in being touched, and Qui-Gon closed his eyes briefly,
reveling in it. When he had finished, he placed the soap on the
ledge of the tub and sat back, locking eyes with Qui-Gon.
Suddenly Qui-Gon started forward, a wary expression on his
face. "Too soon," he said out loud, in a tone that echoed with
resentment and urgency.
"What is it?" Obi-Wan asked, sliding forward in the water so he
was closer to Qui-Gon.
"They've found us," Qui-Gon said, and the look on his face was
frightening.
"Now are you going to tell me the rest of it?" Obi-Wan asked
again, dry and dressed and seated in front of a meal he had no
intention of eating.
Qui-Gon sighed. "What makes you think there's anything I
haven't told you?"
"I know there's a great deal you haven't told me," Obi-Wan
answered. "There hasn't been time. And you've been trying to
start me off easily." The hint of humor was also a rebuke.
"I told you I didn't want to return to the Temple because I
didn't wish to be separated from you. That portion is true
enough," he said. "There's no doubt that I would no longer be
allowed to continue on as your Master...at least not for a
while."
A cold chill ran down Obi-Wan's spine. "What is it, Qui-Gon?"
"I stopped following the Code a long time ago, Padawan."
Qui-Gon used the word deliberately, indulging himself, for he
thought of it now as a term of affection more than a title.
"When you were lost to me, I made a decision from which I could
not turn back. The Council would not sanction my search for
you. They demanded I return and do the duties for which I'd
been trained. I could not allow them to relegate you to the
status of a Jedi who would be sought if time permitted, between
diplomacy and bureaucracy..." Qui-Gon's voice trailed off as he
remembered, and bitterness crept into his tone. "It happened
gradually. I broke off all contact with the Council. Once I was
freed from the constraints of duty, the rest came naturally."
"What is the rest?" Obi-Wan prodded.
"I've done many things...I'm tainted by darkness, Obi-Wan." At
his Padawan's questioning expression, he elaborated,
enunciating every deed. "I've used the Force to cheat, to
steal, to manipulate and obscure the truth, to take what I
wanted. And I haven't cared for a very long time."
The two men sat silently, as Obi-Wan considered the situation,
trying to wrap his mind around it all. "You'll have to leave
the Jedi," Obi-Wan said finally.
"Or be rehabilitated," Qui-Gon said scornfully. "It's too late
for that."
Obi-Wan's mind whirled, but he had no chance to speak his
thoughts. Qui-Gon went to the door and keyed it open. He stood
in the doorway, watching for their visitors. "They're very
near."
"Aren't you curious to know what I want?" Obi-Wan asked. "Or
were you just going to keep me hidden away and never tell me
the truth?"
"I was planning to wait until you were well. And then I would
have offered you the choice, told you everything," Qui-Gon told
him.
"Ask me now, then. Offer me the choice." Obi-Wan's rasping
voice had taken on a hard edge. Qui-Gon squared his shoulders
and turned to face Obi-Wan, who had risen from the table and
was standing, tensed like a wire pulled taut.
"Stand aside, Master Qui-Gon, and admit your guests." A voice
from behind Qui-Gon signaled the end of all choices, for the
moment, as Ki-Adi-Mundi made his presence known.
Without turning, Qui-Gon moved into the room to stand beside
his Padawan. Obi-Wan bowed to Ki-Adi-Mundi, hanging on hard to
the edge of the table, but Qui-Gon made no move until his
diminutive former Master stepped inside the dwelling. Qui-Gon
bowed to Yoda, and said, "You wasted no time tracking me down,
my Master. I thought perhaps you would understand, give me some
time before forcing a confrontation."
"Hmph," snorted Yoda. "Time enough there has been. Ran away
from our authority a year ago, you did. Do not try to turn this
around!" he said, shaking his stick at Qui-Gon. He looked then
to Obi-Wan, who had grown considerably paler in the last few
minutes. "How fares your Padawan?"
"He will recover, Master."
Yoda eyed the young Jedi, deciding for himself. "Pleased am I
to see you, Obi-Wan Kenobi. Owe much to your Master's
stubbornness, you do."
"Indeed, Master Yoda. I feel most fortunate in that regard."
Qui-Gon felt Obi-Wan reaching out to him through the Force, but
he ignored it.
"Know you why we have come." Yoda leaned forward on his stick.
"Long discussions are pointless. Will you return or not?"
"I will not. As you say, discussion is pointless." Qui-Gon felt
Obi-Wan's eyes on him.
"Force you, we can." Yoda's eyes narrowed, and he nodded to
emphasize his words. "If not this night, another."
"Perhaps," Qui-Gon said, dubiously. "To what purpose?"
"You cannot be allowed to continue your indiscriminate use of
the Force, Qui-Gon. It is dangerous to those whose lives you
impact, and to you as well," Ki-Adi-Mundi answered.
"There is no evil in him," Obi-Wan said suddenly. "What he's
done, he did for me. Not for himself. He is in no way
dangerous."
"Excuses matter not!" Yoda replied. "Your opinion is not
needed, young Padawan. Influenced by your emotions are you."
"And you aren't?" Obi-Wan shot back. "You're here because my
Master was your Padawan and you don't want to see him
disgraced."
"Enough, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon chided him. "I will not return, and
you need have no fear I will turn to darkness, my Master. I may
have strayed down another path, but I am not so foolish or
hungry for corruption as that."
"I sense no evil in him, Yoda." Ki-Adi-Mundi was unusually
perceptive about the Dark Side; as far as Yoda was concerned,
his was the last word on the subject. "Only a lack of attention
to his conscience."
Yoda looked long and hard at Qui-Gon, who returned his steady
gaze unfazed. "Very well. But if you choose not to return,
remain here you must until come to the Temple you have.
Understand?"
"Yes, Master."
"Obi-Wan will come with us, however. He is not yet ready for
the trials, and is in need of rest and further training."
Ki-Adi-Mundi waited for Qui-Gon's inevitable objection.
"I will not stand in his way." Qui-Gon turned to look at
Obi-Wan. "You asked me to give you a choice. I offer it to you
now."
"I belong with you, and nowhere else," Obi-Wan answered,
finding it difficult to breathe. As simple as that, then. "You
knew it all the while you searched for me. You know it now, as
I do. I will not leave you."
"It's settled, then." Qui-Gon turned back to Yoda. "He remains
here with me. When he has recovered, I will reconsider my
choice, Master."
"You understand that you are, in effect, banished to this
place?" Ki-Adi-Mundi asked. "You may only leave with the
Council's permission, and then only to return to Coruscant."
"I understand," Qui-Gon said, leaving no doubt that he would do
exactly as he wished, restrictions be damned. To Yoda, he said,
"I'm sorry to have disappointed you, Master."
Yoda looked at Qui-Gon, wondering if he would have gone to the
ends of every galaxy searching for his rebellious student when
Qui-Gon was his Padawan. He would never know. "Be well, Qui-Gon
Jinn," he said, with a nod to Obi-Wan. "Speak of this again we
will, when time for you to reconsider it is." He turned and
followed Ki-Adi-Mundi from the dwelling.
"Sit down, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon ordered, easing the younger man
down in his chair and kneeling before him. "Are you certain
about this?"
"Yes, Master." Obi-Wan felt a small grin coming to his face.
"I'm beginning to understand why you were such a handful when
you were a young Knight."
Qui-Gon chuckled softly. "You have no idea, Obi-Wan."
"I meant what I said, Qui-Gon." The grin faded from Obi-Wan's
face and was replaced by a wistful, hopeful look of longing. "I
have a great deal to conquer. I believe I can be the man I was
before I was taken."
Qui-Gon touched his face, cupped his chin with a warm hand.
"You are still my beloved. Nothing has changed, Obi-Wan. Your
strength has carried you through. And you will heal in time."
For the second time, Obi-Wan asked the question. "And what
then, Qui-Gon?" He caught the hand which rested on his cheek,
pressed it there, closed his eyes against the sensation of the
much-imagined touch, now real and alive. "What then?"
"We will decide when the time comes," Qui-Gon answered. It was
the only answer he could give. And it was no answer at all.
End.
8/5/99
My thanks to all who encouraged me to write a sequel to Place
of Silence. What did you think of the results? All comments and
criticisms welcomed. destinaf@hotmail.com
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