Summary: Fourth in the series that I'm coming to think of as
"Qui-Gon's Going Straight To Hell." The confrontation between
Master and Apprentice.
Disclaimer: George Lucas, he's our man! If he won't do it--the
slashers will!
This is for Gayle, whose artwork brings life to Qui-Gon and
Obi-Wan like nothing else I've ever seen. Including the movie.
Too much sanity may be madness; but the maddest of all
is to see life as it is, and not as it
should be.
-Man of La Mancha
Obi-Wan sat across from Qui-Gon, cross-legged on the grass of a
familiar riverbank. It was, he realized eventually, the
riverbank from Fal-An'oth Sheth, the small warm world where he
had plucked his Master a bunch of iris.
So, another dream about Qui-Gon then. They were coming more and
more frequently, at least twice a week now. At first, all
they'd done was have sex, and lots of it. But after a while,
the nature of the dreams had begun to change, and he found the
two of them sitting in places they'd visited on missions. He
wondered vaguely why his subconscious was coming up with these
particular places, locales that Qui-Gon had appreciated far
more than he. Like the Forest of Silver Trees on
what-was-the-place. His Master had rhapsodized about the giant
silvered trunks for days on end, and they'd certainly been very
pretty, but Obi-Wan had been more occupied with surreptitiously
scratching what felt like millions and millions of bugbites.
Not all that fond a memory, yet in a dream he and his Master
had rolled together there on a carpet of black grass, almost
completely obscured from the sun overhead by the gigantic
forest canopy.
Lately sex had been happening less in the dreams, and while he
wasn't overly happy about that--it had been good sex, from what
he could tell--he was intrigued by the change. Now he and
Qui-Gon would just sit and talk, and the older man would say
things Obi-Wan had never dreamed of hearing, in tones similarly
unimaginable.
Like right now. His Master had taken both of his hands and was
saying quietly, earnestly, "Obi-Wan. There are so many more
things I want to tell you. I've told you that I love you so
much you must be sick of hearing it..." his voice trailed off
and he looked at his apprentice almost hopefully.
Dutifully, and with a touch of truth, Obi-Wan replied, "No,
Master. It's just that dreams are funny things. I mean,
obviously this is a dream. I can't imagine you saying this
while I was awake." He chuckled suddenly. "I can't even imagine
what you'd think if I told you about all this! If you really
knew what I was dreaming!"
Unaccountably, Qui-Gon glanced away and looked at the river. "I
can't imagine what I'd think either. If you told me, I mean. In
daylight. That would change things, wouldn't it, Padawan?"
"I would think so, Master. Unless you start pulling all that
stoic-Jedi-bullshit, 'it's-perfectly-natural, Obi-Wan' stuff."
Qui-Gon looked back at him, an eyebrow raised, and the corners
of his mouth quirking up. "'Stoic Jedi bullshit?'" he repeated
softly. "Is that how you perceive my serenity?"
Obi-Wan snorted. "Your what? Forgive me, Master, but I do know
you. You haven't been 'serene' for as long as I can remember.
At peace, maybe. And dignified to the point of constipation."
He started laughing at the look on Qui-Gon's face. "Gods, I've
wanted to say that for so long. Thank the Force for dreams."
"Yes," his Master said with surprising seriousness. "Thank the
Force. And now if I may make some comments of my own, impish
Padawan?"
Obi-Wan grinned. "Please do. Since it's my dream, I'm hoping
they'll be good. Unless my subconscious is more insecure than I
thought."
It was Qui-Gon's turn to snort. "Nothing about you is insecure,
my Obi-Wan. You're self-confident to a fault, and I do love you
for it, though sometimes you scare the wits from me. And you
are kind, and beautiful, and you always seem to know what I
need from you. You've always known, even on Phindar. I
remember. I know."
"Phindar?" Obi-Wan was puzzled, then brightened. "Paxxi and
Guerra! Of course! Right after we left Bandomeer. How in the
hells could I have forgotten that? But what did I do for you
there, besides nearly get my brain wiped clean?"
"You made the jump."
A pause. Once again, Obi-Wan tried to work this out. How could
his brain remember all this if his brain couldn't remember all
this? "I made the jump," he repeated slowly.
"We were escaping from...or to...somewhere or other. I don't
remember that part myself. But we had to jump across some
ledge, and I looked at you to see if you could make it, and
before I even asked, you nodded. And went ahead and did it." He
gave the younger man a fond look. "You are the most remarkable
apprentice and friend I have ever known, Obi-Wan. Always you
know or have what I need."
Obi-Wan shook his head. "You wonder why I have a problem with
too much self-confidence?"
"I don't...I can't say this during the day! But I'm so
proud of you, truly I am. I want to praise you so badly, my
Obi-Wan. My Only-One." Qui-Gon laughed suddenly. "Yes, I like
that. My Only-One Kenobi."
Obi-Wan could feel himself blushing with pleasure. It was so
sappy, but hearing it from his reserved Master felt so damned
good. Then he felt the tell-tale tug. He was waking up.
"Time to go," he said to Qui-Gon and braced himself for the
now-familiar look. His Master didn't disappoint. Whenever his
apprentice departed the dream, Qui-Gon would watch him
disappear with an expression of such infinite sadness, such
tender sorrow, that Obi-Wan wanted to promise he would remain
asleep forever. No doubt that would put out the real Qui-Gon
Jinn, though, and he was the one Obi-Wan should be striving to
impress.
The real Qui-Gon. Now there was a thought. Qui-Gon, who never
showed a trace of this gentle, sad and loving man who touched
him so deeply. What might Qui-Gon make of these dreams? Perhaps
Obi-Wan should tell him. They had always been honest with one
another.
As he woke, he idly wondered how and if his Master would
respond. Wouldn't that be something, if Qui-Gon could really
love him?
If love was this sweet in dreams, what might the reality bring?
He made a low humming noise as he opened his eyes and felt the
warm sun of Coruscant on his face. The blankets were tangled
comfortably around him and he felt quite well-protected against
the early morning chill of his spartan quarters. Wooden floors
were good for many things, he reflected ruefully, not the least
of which was beauty, but they came up short in the insulation
department.
He stretched lazily, and his nose twitched appreciatively as he
smelled frying meat. His Master was making breakfast, and
wonder of wonders he'd been allowed to sleep past dawn. He must
have...well, done something special, surely, to merit such
leniency. The thought of Qui-Gon reminded him of his dreams,
however, and he felt a tightening in his chest and stomach that
was not entirely pleasant. The first time or two he'd had those
dreams he'd brushed them off; now they came so often that it
was virtually a given he had to tell his Master. After all, no
secrets lay between them. Never had. After they had bonded as
Master and Padawan, Qui-Gon had been frank about everything
from his history with Xanatos to his annoying habit of leaving
his dirty socks in the strangest places. And Obi-Wan had
appreciated that trust and returned it in full.
With that thought, he gathered his courage and padded into the
common room, where his Master was laying out two dishes of
bread and fried meat, along with glasses of juice. Qui-Gon
glanced up briefly and gave his apprentice a warm smile. "Good
morning, Padawan. Eat up; I have a day of intensive practice
planned."
Obi-Wan plunked himself down in front of the low table, making
himself comfortable on his floor-cushion. Taking a gulp of
juice, he grinned back and said, "Do I get to practice the
Sixth Kata again, Master?"
Qui-Gon shook his head. "No sparring or katas today. You will
work on your meditations. I thought the Clouded Stone would do
you some good."
Obi-Wan bit back a groan. No wonder his Master had let him
sleep late; kind of a consolation prize for having to do his
least favorite meditation. He swallowed the whine that wanted
to emerge and nodded dutifully, then turned back to the
breakfast which seemed a lot less appealing.
"I'm sorry, Padawan," Qui-Gon said, astonishing him suddenly.
"I know you dislike doing it. But it seems to me some of your
perceptions could use a little shoring up."
Blinking, Obi-Wan nodded. "Yes, Master." That was odd. Never,
in all their years together, had Qui-Gon apologized for
something he thought necessary or beneficial, no matter how
unpleasant. It was turning out to be a strange morning indeed.
Deciding that whatever he said couldn't make it all that
stranger, Obi-Wan decided to take the leap. Into the
breach, he thought, and said aloud, "Master, I feel...that
is, I think I should tell you about..." suddenly at a loss, he
ended with, "some strange dreams I've been having."
Qui-Gon was busying himself at the counter. Nothing in his
voice or demeanor changed as he replied, "Yes?"
"Um. Well." He was only now beginning to realize that, as well
as difficult, this would be extremely embarrassing. "That is,
they've been...intimate dreams...about..."
To his surprise, Qui-Gon interrupted him. "Wet dreams? I
believe we've already had this conversation, Padawan. There's
nothing unnatural at all about sexual dreams."
"Not sexual, Master. Well, I mean, they're that too, but I
can't help feeling there's something significant about--"
"Meditate on them," Qui-Gon said firmly. "That's what today is
for, after all." Noting Obi-Wan's wide-eyed gaze, he added more
kindly, "You're growing up, Padawan. There will soon come a
time when I won't be there to interpret your dreams for you,
and I'm not a seer, after all. You must learn to resolve these
things on your own."
Oh. "I didn't really want them interpreted, Master, I just
wanted to..." he trailed off. "Yes, Master. Thanks."
Qui-Gon, who had not met his eyes during the entire
conversation, began putting breakfast supplies back in the
cooling unit. "Is there anything else you wanted to discuss?"
Hell, no. "No, Master, I think that about covered it."
Trying to keep the surprised bitterness out of his voice. This
was not a development he liked at all. And he knew these dreams
were important. They had to be. But everything about Qui-Gon,
his attitude, posture, everything, was screaming I don't
want to discuss this with you, whatever it is. And that
hurt more than Obi-Wan cared to admit.
He rose to his feet more slowly than his youthful energy
normally permitted. Well. Best get that meditation over with,
then.
"I'll be gone this morning, Padawan," Qui-Gon said to his
retreating back. "Should be back for supper, I should think.
Just practice that meditation until you think I'd be satisfied
with it."
Obi-Wan bit back his retort, which was, If I'm working by
myself here, then why is it you I have to please? That
might just have gotten him a chance to run the Ring Obstacle
Course too. Oh joy. "Yes, Master. I'll see you tonight,
then...?"
He turned back then, but Qui-Gon was already gone, the door
sliding shut behind him.
Indulging himself with a huffy sigh, Obi-Wan padded back into
his room and unrolled his meditation mat. Then he went
rummaging through the shelves of his nightstand until he found
the item he was looking for, wrapped in dirty cloth and stuffed
into the very back of the bottom drawer as if he'd been trying
to forget it existed. Which, in a way, he had. It was the
Clouded Stone itself, selected by Qui-Gon from one of
Coruscant's few remaining gardens. His Master had devised this
particular meditation himself for his first padawan and had
decided he liked it so much that all three of his
students--Ralnoth, Xanatos and Obi-Wan--had had to suffer
through it.
He'd never say it to his Master, of course, but he couldn't
help thinking privately that the damn annoying exercise
probably hadn't done anything to stop Xanatos' fall to the Dark
side.
The Clouded Stone was a big chunk of dirty-looking quartz,
weighing in at about five pounds, and it lived up to its name.
If you peered through it you could see vaguely to the other
side, colors, basic shapes and so on. But no details, nothing
as clear as if you were looking through glass or thin air. That
was the point of the exercise. You had to levitate the stone,
no great task, and then focus until you rearranged the atoms of
the stone so that it was as transparent as said glass. It was
an incredibly delicate process, long and arduous, and tried
Obi-Wan's limited patience in the extreme. Which, of course,
was why Qui-Gon had assigned it. "Some of your perceptions
could use shoring up," hah. More likely he wanted a Padawan
that wasn't constantly bouncing off the Temple walls.
He settled himself cross-legged on the mat, making himself as
comfortable as possible, grimly aware that he was only delaying
the inevitable. At least he had all day to try and get this
right. Sometimes Qui-Gon would actually set a time limit...on
an exercise of patience!...and he never got it right
then, never. Resigning himself, Obi-Wan closed his eyes and
levitated the Stone.
Opened his eyes again, and focused on the milky hue of the
quartz. He could just make out the brightly colored wall
hanging through it, the intricate patterns of red and blue
blurred into shapelessness. Well, by the time he was done,
hopefully that would be remedied. He focused all the patience
at his command and concentrated.
As he worked, he had to give Qui-Gon a little grudging credit
for the exercise. He always discovered reserves inside himself
he'd forgotten about. It wasn't merely fun with physics, it was
also a serious bit of introspection. And he could certainly use
some of that. So he focused one half of his brain on
rearranging the Stone's atoms, while the other half went
rummaging around in his psyche, drawing on the energy he needed
and looking for new or unused sources.
He observed wryly that he was staying as far away from his
dreaming mind as possible. Theoretically, it was possible to do
this meditation fully awake, half-asleep, or deep in a trance,
and he'd always wondered what that would be like. So why was he
so reluctant to explore? Stupid question, Kenobi, he
decided, and tentatively opened his dreams.
The subconscious mind, he discovered, was a good place to draw
on passive energy, the kind that was needed to feed his
efforts. And now he even had a picture show of sorts to pass
the time as he reassembled the Stone. He wished he'd thought of
this before, as he wandered in and out of the frozen frames of
his dreams, some clear and solid, others fading away with the
passage of time.
Not surprisingly, he quickly came to a dream featuring Qui-Gon.
They'd certainly been on his mind more than any others. In this
image, Qui-Gon had him nestled snug against his broad chest and
was smiling down at him indulgently as he said
something-or-other. Contrasting that with the disinterested
Master of this morning, Obi-Wan had to give a mental snort.
What an interesting imagination he had. Could he get audio in
this thing? He suddenly wanted to remember whatever tender
drabble he'd dreamed emerging from Qui-Gon's lips.
And because he was in his dreaming mind, as soon as he wished
it, it was there. Qui-Gon's deep voice was speaking, and he
heard it rumbling through him as if he were actually held in
those arms.
"...coming along nicely. You've no need to worry, my love.
Within the year I'll be recommending you for the Trials."
His dream-self turned wide eyes to his Master and he winced.
Did he really look like that? So...well, so innocent? It was
embarrassing. "Really, Master?" he heard himself say.
"Yes," Dream Qui-Gon replied, and looked sad. "I should have
recommended you already. I should have. You're ready, my
Padawan. Others have told me as much. Yoda is becoming quite
insistent, in fact."
Dream Obi-Wan's eyes went even wider. "What? But then, why have
you waited? I mean..."
Dream Qui-Gon arched a brow and let loose a sigh that did his
apprentice proud. "I've already told you why, Obi-Wan. Is your
memory so short?"
"Oh, yeah," his dream self replied, and smiled, snuggling even
closer in the warm embrace. Obi-Wan could not stop a stab of
envy. "You're in love with me. I guess you'd miss me. I'd
forgotten this was a dream, for a minute."
Dream Qui-Gon's eyes closed, and he pressed a tender kiss to
his Padawan's spiky head. "Yes, dear. You must not forget that
this is a dream."
Obi-Wan frowned. Metaphorically, anyway, since his body was in
trance. That wasn't normal for dreams, was it? Dreams were
supposed to seem real, be real to the dreamer. His
dreams always had, anyway. Hadn't they? Something was odd about
this. Without further ado, Obi-Wan abandoned the frame and
began to seek through the other dreams that had been stored
away.
A pattern quickly emerged.
The only dreams where he knew, was consciously aware
that he was dreaming, were the dreams about Qui-Gon.
Maybe this wasn't so unusual. When his Master had begun to
tutor him in the ways of dreams, different for every person,
he'd told Obi-Wan that he himself remained aware that he was
dreaming. Maybe Obi-Wan was just following in his Master's
footsteps, growing into some new phase of...Jedi-ness...or
something.
No. Something was odd. Something was, in addition to odd,
wrong.
Truly disturbed now, Obi-Wan concentrated on the free-floating
signatures in his mind, finding his own Force imprints
everywhere. He looked for patterns, changes, flow alterations,
anything that might explain the sudden strangeness he found
inside his own brain. He found none of those things. He found
something else instead.
Just a little thing.
Just a trace. Hardly noticeable...if he hadn't been looking he
never would have...
A trace of Qui-Gon's Force signature. In his mind. In his
dreams.
Obi-Wan's eyes flew open and his whole body stiffened. The
Clouded Stone fell to the ground and cracked.
He sat there for a few moments, in stunned silence. Then he
rose to his feet and wandered, still barefoot, into the common
room. Thinking. Becoming very angry.
By the Force. It had been Qui-Gon. It really had been
Qui-Gon, and everything he thought he knew about his Master was
suddenly turning out to be highly questionable. Where was the
stern, ethical Knight in this little charade? Prowling through
his student's dreams like a sex offender and creeping out at
dawn, that's where. Obi-Wan's head was swimming with the
implications. First of all, Qui-Gon loved him?
Qui-Gon-solid-as-a-rock...oh gods..."to the point of
constipation"-Jinn? (For a brief moment Obi-Wan wished he'd
thought of other complaints to unload while he couldn't be held
accountable for them in the morning.) How completely,
unbelievably insane. Qui-Gon, in love with him. Qui-Gon,
holding him back from the Trials for that same love, but not
even giving so much as a hint of it in the harsh light of day.
Second, Qui-Gon had clearly initiated the dreams. Obi-Wan
remembered how surprised he'd been after the first one. Only
later had it occurred to him to look on his Master with desire.
How could he be sure that his feelings were real and not solely
the product of Qui-Gon's influence? How could he be sure of
anything anymore? He'd never have dreamed that his
Master would stoop to such manipulation, but apparently Qui-Gon
was stooping to a lot of things these days.
Obi-Wan stopped pacing the room and plunked himself down
heavily into a chair, taking a deep breath. His anger was
getting him nowhere. He needed to talk to Qui-Gon about this,
and the sooner the better. Trouble was, he had no idea where
his Master was and wasn't all that inclined to go looking.
Maybe he could use a little time to himself after all. Yes.
Wait until he'd calmed before bringing this up. "Haste does not
do," as Yoda had reprimanded him so many times in that
singularly annoying way of his.
In the meantime, there was no reason not to satisfy his
curiosity. Without a second thought, he stalked into Qui-Gon's
quarters. He'd been in here often enough, but only briefly and
always upon invitation. Now he stood in the middle of the
simple room, gazing around, reaching out with his Force-sense
to see where it would lead him.
He felt a prick; followed it to the shelves on the wall. There
Qui-Gon kept an innumerable number of comp-pads, antique books,
folders, boxes. Still "feeling around," he found his gaze drawn
to a thin, hand-bound black book.
He took it down from the shelf, and upon opening it discovered
it was a sketchbook. He frowned, flipping through the stiff
pages. He'd known that Qui-Gon occasionally drew, and had even
seen some few pieces of his Master's, but hadn't been aware he
was this prolific. Or this talented. There were lots of still
lifes, things from their quarters or around the Temple. They
were quite good, but why the Force should want him to look at a
charcoal sketch of a bowl of flowers he had no...
Oh. Well. This cleared that right up. He'd turned a page
and found a drawing, rendered in loving detail, of himself
taking a nap on the couch in the common room, dressed only in
his leggings, one hand dangling lazily off the couch. Small
smile on his lips. Turned another page, and it was a sketch of
him reading on a window-sill. Another page, a series of figure
drawings depicting him in various battle-poses, no doubt done
from memory since Qui-Gon was generally battling whenever he
was.
Force. The whole rest of the book was full of pictures of
Obi-Wan Kenobi, often in various states of undress. Several of
him asleep in bed. Oh, the irony.
Under the anger, Obi-Wan had to admit he was touched. Qui-Gon
was such a reserved sort of man, he'd never suspected him
capable of this level of... well, dippyness. But how in all the
hells had he managed to hide this little obsession for so long?
And why couldn't he just come to Obi-Wan about it? Granted, he
certainly would have been shocked at first, but...
But...
Would he have considered a romantic relationship with
Qui-Gon if his Master had asked? Obi-Wan honestly admitted that
he probably would not have. He would have had a hard time
picking his jaw up off the floor, for a start. Then there was
the problem of having his teacher for a lover. All kinds of
authority issues mixed up in there. And Qui-Gon was over twenty
years his senior.
His Master had known this. Known it to be true, and had gone
for the only relationship he could. A lie. Obi-Wan
forced himself to remember that. Whatever Qui-Gon's intentions
or feelings, his actions had still been reprehensible. Sexy,
but reprehensible, his inner voice commented snidely and he
shushed it.
So what was he going to do? Tell the Council? Ask for a new
Master? He immediately rebelled at the thought. Like it or not,
natural or not, pissed off or not, he loved his Master.
And he didn't think he could live with breaking the heart of
Qui-Gon Jinn, not to mention disgracing him in front of the
entire Order. No. This would be a private matter between
himself and his Master.
Obi-Wan replaced the sketchbook and returned to his own room,
noting with a wince the cracked state of the quartz. Oh well.
He certainly had an excuse. And maybe it would save him from
ever having to do the damned meditation again.
The most confused Padawan currently in the Jedi Temple threw on
his robes, be-sandaled himself and went off to look for some
lunch. This would all make more sense after food.
Lunch did help, as it turned out, and as Obi-Wan sat in the
common room that evening, waiting for Qui-Gon's return he
discovered he'd regained some semblance of calm. Maybe he
should consider forgoing meditation and just eating lots of
dessert. As he studied the comp-pad before him, a collection of
his favorite Malastarian short stories, the door hissed open
and he knew his Master was back.
"Good evening, Padawan," said the deep voice that now seemed to
contain worlds of hidden meaning. "Have you spent your day
well?"
You have no idea. "Satisfactorily, Master. And you? What
did you do?"
Once again Qui-Gon avoided his gaze. "Meditated, actually. I
have quite a bit on my mind."
Actually you have quite a bit on my mind, you sneaky
bastard, Obi-Wan wanted to retort, but didn't. "Anything I
can help with?" Oops, that probably hadn't been the best thing
to say.
Qui-Gon, however, didn't seem to notice as he went into his
room. His voice floated out from his quarters. "No, Padawan.
This is something I think I must resolve myself." Brief rustle
of clothing. "I've picked up a few bad habits I'd like to rid
myself of."
"Oh, really?" Obi-Wan was horrified that he hadn't been able to
keep the sarcasm out of his voice. Fortunately, his Master only
chuckled, and re-entered the room in a loose robe.
"Yes, even your Master has bad habits and seems to be acquiring
new ones every day. Is that so hard to believe?"
"And here I thought the dirty socks were going to be the worst
of it," Obi-Wan replied in kind, realizing that, even as he
spoke the words, that he wasn't going to bring it up. He simply
couldn't. Especially not if Qui-Gon was planning on stopping,
as it now seemed. Better, surely, just to let it lie. Just
forget it ever happened.
Yeah, right. As long as he lived, Obi-Wan was not going to be
able to forget that The Great Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn had been
in love with him. It was a supreme compliment, if nothing else.
"Speaking of socks," Qui-Gon was saying absently, "have you
seen the pair I was wearing this morning?"
"Check under the couch," Obi-Wan suggested. Qui-Gon bent to do
so and Obi-Wan deliberately did not look at the curve of
backside under the robe. He had a moral high ground to
maintain, after all. In a few seconds, Qui-Gon straightened
again, beaming almost triumphantly. With socks in his hands.
"There we are," he proclaimed, slipping them on his feet with a
little sigh of contentment. "Whatever would I do without you,
Obi-Wan?"
Probably draw more flower bowls. "I'm sure you'd think
of something, Master. Um, doesn't it concern you that something
might have, uh, crawled inside one of those socks or
something?"
Qui-Gon arched an eyebrow and smiled. "What, a fellow creature?
I suppose I'll just have to become one with it, like the Jedi I
am."
To his surprise, Obi-Wan found himself laughing naturally at
that. Maybe things could go back to normal, after all.
All hopes of that were dashed when, that night, he found
himself standing by the same riverbank, waiting for Qui-Gon.
Knowing, again, that he was dreaming. This time it was night,
with dozens of constellations hanging crystal in the sky.
Obi-Wan looked around in dismay. I guess I misunderstood
which bad habits, exactly, he was planning on clearing up.
Then he took a deep breath of air that felt startlingly fresh
and cool, for a dream, and placed his hands on his hips.
"I know you're here, Qui-Gon," he called, hearing the ring of
challenge in his voice. "Come on out!"
He saw movement out of the corner of his eye, and turned to
glare at Qui-Gon, who was descending a hill illuminated by
moonlight. His Master looked surprised. "Of course I'm here,
Obi-Wan," he said.
"Yes," Obi-Wan said bitterly. "Of course you are."
Qui-Gon arched a brow. "Might I inquire as to the cause of your
anger, Padawan?"
"Padawan!"
"...You've always been glad to see me before..." Qui-Gon's
voice trailed off. "Perhaps it's for the best, at any rate.
I've come to say goodbye."
That brought Obi-Wan up short. "Goodbye?" he repeated.
"Yes. I don't think you'll be dreaming about me anymore. I
think it's time for you to...move on to other things."
Obi-Wan folded his arms in front of him. "So you are breaking
some bad habits after all, huh?" He took a step closer to his
confused mentor. If Qui-Gon had not come tonight he could have
let things lie. If Qui-Gon had not...if Qui-Gon had not done a
lot of things, this would not have been necessary.
Obi-Wan squashed the sudden, surprising flash of regret,
telling himself it had no place here. For all he knew, none of
this was real. He'd been manipulated and used by someone he'd
trusted implicitly. For love's sake, perhaps, but it still
stung. And no matter how he might feel, he would not, could not
accept a relationship with his Master based on illusion and
deceit.
"What you meant to say," he continued ruthlessly, "is, not that
I won't dream of you, but that you won't be
coming back. To mess in my dreams. That's what you meant."
Qui-Gon's eyes went wide and he took a step back. "Pada..." he
began weakly, and stopped.
"How could you do it, for fuck's sake?" Obi-Wan demanded,
suddenly feeling a great, angry grief rising inside him. "I
don't mean why. I know why you did it. But how could you
bend like that and do something so wrong? Did you think I
wouldn't find out?!"
"No," Qui-Gon murmured, turning to stare in the direction of
the river, where Obi-Wan could hear the suddenly furious tumble
of water. He couldn't tell if it was an answer to his question
or just a denial of everything in general.
"I found it out while I was doing the Clouded Stone today. I
felt your signature in my dreams. That's when I knew. You
BASTARD," Obi-Wan suddenly exploded, though some part of him
quailed at the shocked anguish that appeared in Qui-Gon's eyes.
"Here I am, thinking I'm falling in love with you like the
typical Padawan idiot while all along...this is what's killing
me, Master." His voice suddenly dropped, became hoarse with his
own pain. "I thought what I felt was real. But it was you all
the time. How can I be sure of anything anymore? How do I know
you didn't manipulate me in some way?"
Qui-Gon found his voice at that, and strode forward so fiercely
that Obi-Wan actually retreated a step. "I did nothing of the
sort! My oath on it, Obi-Wan--whatever else you think of me, I
would never--you were willing, in your dreams. If I had ever
sensed hesitation in you, or fear or uncertainty I would have
stopped at once. Don't you know that?"
"I don't know anything. And even if that's true," which it was,
he acknowledged ruefully, "that doesn't make it right. Not what
you did."
Qui-Gon reached out as if to touch him, and then thought better
of it. "No. It doesn't." Another one of those looks of sorrow,
one that tore at Obi-Wan in spite of himself. "I confess I'm
amazed this is such a shock to you."
It was some few seconds before Obi-Wan could respond to that.
"A shock?! Of course it's a shock! I find out that the
man who didn't even give a damn about me when I was thirteen is
suddenly lusting after me and it's not supposed to be a shock?
Wait a minute, is this some kind of test?" he asked as a
thought belatedly occurred to him.
Qui-Gon stared, and then sat heavily on the ground. "No," he
said dully, "no test. A farce, apparently, but not a test. You
really had no idea of my feelings?"
"No. Why in the hells would I?"
"Here, on the riverbank," Qui-Gon said, still in that lifeless
murmur that his apprentice had to strain to hear. "You left my
sight. I was afraid for you. And then you came back and looked
in such a way at me...I thought you knew."
"I knew you were worried," Obi-Wan said, "which is frankly
disturbing enough in itself. But love...? No. No, I didn't know
at all."
"At all?" Qui-Gon looked up beseechingly at him. "Have I been
so cold to you, Obi-Wan?"
"Not at night," the younger man said dryly, and his Master's
lips quirked up in a humorless smile.
"As to the rest," Qui-Gon said suddenly, "you're wrong, wrong
and wrong again. I cared a great deal about you at thirteen.
And I am not simply lusting after you, Pada...Obi-Wan. I
thought I had made that clear. I love you. I do," he
added fiercely as Obi-Wan raised his eyebrows.
"Prove it," he said softly.
The older man remained silent for a moment. "What do you want
me to do?" he asked. "This changes everything. When you wake
up--"
"I'm talking about now. Live in the moment, right?"
"-when you wake up, I'll be gone. We can't stay together,
Obi-Wan. Not after this."
"And whose fault is that?" Obi-Wan asked dangerously, only
half-hearing the words, and then pulled off his robe. "Clothes.
Off. Now." Sith, he thought distantly, what was he doing? He'd
come here with no plan at all except to confront his Master.
Now he was going to fuck him. He knew this with a certainty
that was as sudden and shocking as it was absolute. It was
turning into such an interesting evening. "You wanted me? Fine.
I'm here. Except it's really me, now, with you. This is how
you're going to make amends, my Master. We're going to do this
together and I'm going to know it's me here with you the
whole time. No more dreams or lies." He glared at Qui-Gon, who
still sat frozen on the ground.
"You can't be serious--now? Like this? You can't possibly--"
"If you don't do this," Obi-Wan continued softly, "then you
will never. Ever. Touch. Me. Again."
That seemed to have an effect, as his Master raised trembling
hands to his own clothing. Still he protested. "Obi-Wan-think
about what you're doing, love, this isn't what you want to-"
"I'm not your love." Not yet, anyway, but he didn't bother to
say that aloud. "And this is what I want to do. More than
anything. You have your wish, Master. I want you as much as
you've ever wanted me." He'd stripped his tunics off and now
pointed to the bulge in his pants as evidence.
Qui-Gon's hands dropped to his sides again. "No. You weren't
listening. That's not how I feel and that's not
what I wanted with you." Such sadness in his voice.
Obi-Wan wanted to scream with frustration, but instead moved
forward and gently began loosening his Master's tunics, batting
aside half-hearted attempts to stop him. "Fine idea you had of
showing it, then. Now be quiet and let me have you for once."
Before Qui-Gon could protest, his apprentice had cupped the
back of his head and was dragging him down for a kiss.
Odd, Obi-Wan reflected vaguely to himself, that they hadn't
kissed, at least on the lips. It went along with Qui-Gon's
weird fetish for not letting Obi-Wan touch him, which he
supposed was a way the older man tried to salve his conscience.
No more salving tonight, he thought giddily, and clasped
Qui-Gon's head with both hands, probing urgently at the
trembling lips with his tongue.
There was a faint gasp from Qui-Gon, almost like a muted wail,
and then he felt the strong arms of his Master clasp him and
hold him close. The warm lips opened and then, oh gods, they
were kissing they were kissing, and the wet rasp of
Qui-Gon's tongue on his felt really, really good.
It felt like they kissed for hours on end, and by the time they
both sank to their knees on the ground, Obi-Wan was having to
exert some serious self-control to keep from coming on the
spot. Whatever else his Master was, he was an incredible lover,
at least in dreams. When they woke up, well...he'd just have to
see if the reality matched the facade. Because Qui-Gon's mind
was touching his too, not just his dream-body and, no matter
what had passed between them before, it felt right. Because he
loved this man. He didn't want to think about exactly why he
might love him now. It no longer seemed important at all. Love,
he loved his Master, how he loved Qui-Gon Jinn...
"Master," he groaned into the older man's mouth, assisting his
Master's hot, shaking hands at tearing away clothing and boots.
"You'd think...you would have dreamed up...something easier to
rip off," he growled.
Qui-Gon actually chuffed out something that sounded like a
chuckle. It was hard to tell. "I didn't know...I had not
planned...tonight..."
"Time to stop talking," Obi-Wan announced, throwing his
now-naked Master back on the ground and landing on top of him
with an "oof" sound. He immediately began to undulate his hips,
kissing Qui-Gon's nipples and grinding their cocks together as
much as possible.
"Obi-Wan!" cried Qui-Gon, his hips lifting hungrily up against
his student's, his huge hands running through the spiky hair
while Obi-Wan fed on one nipple at a time. "Obi-Wan!"
"Yes, Master," Obi-Wan muttered against the hot skin. "Yes,
Qui-Gon. Yes." He was tasting Qui-Gon, he reflected dizzily,
and he never wanted to wake up, because no reality could ever
be half this good. Worked his way over the down-dusted belly,
dipped his tongue inside the navel and tasted the salt pooled
there. Forgot all about finesse and took the huge cock in hand,
remembering the lessons Qui-Gon had taught him during those
nights, sucking lightly on the tip. Qui-Gon was beyond words by
now, rocking his hips back and forth and moaning incoherently,
his eyes closed and mouth wide open.
He could tell his Master was close. So was he. But he had no
intention of letting it end like this. Obi-Wan knew that all he
wanted out of his whole entire life was to fuck Qui-Gon Jinn
and fuck him but good, and he wanted to do it right now.
He detached his mouth from Qui-Gon's flesh, hearing with
pleasure the older man's strangled scream of dismay. "Roll
over...roll..." he panted, and decided to do it himself,
flipping his Master with a judicious application of the Force.
It occurred to him dimly that he really had no idea of how to
go about this, other than some cursory reading and memories of
how Qui-Gon had done it to him. No matter. It was a
dream. There could be no pain in dreams. Half-delirious, he
bent his head and nipped at one muscular ass cheek. Qui-Gon
groaned.
"Want you, Master," he gasped. Qui-Gon made an incoherent
noise that sounded vaguely affirmative and arched his hips into
the air, spreading his legs enough to allow his apprentice to
nestle between them. Closing his eyes on a sigh of bliss,
Obi-Wan rubbed his slick, stiffened cock between the
cheeks--then positioned himself and drove home.
He heard, faintly, Qui-Gon's shocked cry, but then his Master
was lunging savagely backward, impaling him even further, and
all capacity for thought was obliterated. He threw his head
back and howled as he began to thrust, hips pistoning
mindlessly, aware of nothing but the crushing heat around his
member. "Qui-Gon! Qui-Gon! Qui..." he chanted, over and over
again, pounding his hips and half-dying from need. It was going
to be over soon. He couldn't wait. With one last hitch of
reason, he reached underneath his Master and grasped his cock,
only to find that he was too late, Qui-Gon was already coming
and coming hard, cream spurting over his Padawan's hand and the
ground. His whole body was wracked with spasms and he let out a
wordless sound between a scream and a sob.
That was quite enough for Obi-Wan. He braced himself and gave
in to the mad quivering of his thigh muscles as he came, and it
went on and on until he became afraid he might not be able to
stop, just kept coming and coming and coming...
Enough. Enough. "Enough," he moaned, and abruptly collapsed on
top of Qui-Gon, the older man's knees and elbows giving out
underneath him so that they both sprawled on the ground.
Uncaring that his weight might pose some discomfort--indeed,
unable to think in any way whatsoever--Obi-Wan lay slumped on
the broad, sweaty back, feeling the hammering of his heart and
listening to the raspy breathing of two overwhelmed men.
Then he dropped a kiss to Qui-Gon's shoulder with a supreme
effort. "Master," he whispered, noting how hoarse his throat
felt. How much had he been screaming.
"You are." Obi-Wan huffed out an exhausted laugh. "A Master
bastard. Hahh..." he chuckled again. "My Master."
Qui-Gon made no reply to that, but simply shifted forward,
grunting slightly, until Obi-Wan felt his softened shaft
sliding out. Then his Master flopped over on his back, staring
up at the starry sky, still breathing heavily. Obi-Wan crawled
forward and lay his head on the other man's broad chest,
nuzzling one of the nipples he'd tortured before. Inexplicably,
Qui-Gon stiffened for a moment, but then his large hand drifted
up to gently pet Obi-Wan on the head. "Force, Obi-Wan. How I
love you." His voice rough.
"Only-One," Obi-Wan murmured happily, basking in the afterglow.
"Remember? I'm your Only-One Kenobi. Sith, I can't believe I'm
being this sentimental."
It failed to get the laugh he'd hoped for, but Qui-Gon did say,
in an oddly choked voice, "Yes. You are. My only one, forever."
Then he brushed his fingertips over Obi-Wan's brow. "My
love...it's time for you to have another dream now."
Surprised, Obi-Wan raised his head to protest, but only had
time to look in Qui-Gon's eyes and see a look of such
shattering grief that he could not speak. Then, before he knew
what was happening, the dream was gone.
His body was warm. Sated. He luxuriated in the feeling until he
sensed the wrongness.
Rubbing his eyes with a sleepy frown, Obi-Wan sat up,
successfully ignoring the clammy, cum-covered sheets of his
pallet. The dream. It had faded into some other, completely
uninteresting scenario involving Yoda's gimmer stick and
approximately eight thousand waltzing Banthas. Which under any
other circumstances might have amused him, but now all he could
think of was that look on his Master's face...his Master.
This should not feel so wrong. He had hoped to set things right
between them, to make himself even with Qui-Gon, and to let his
Master know that everything was all right. That a romantic
relationship between them would not only be acceptable, it
abruptly seemed as necessary to Obi-Wan as breathing. "Master?"
he called out, quickly getting to his feet.
There was no answer. Then Obi-Wan belatedly noticed the light
coming in through the windows. It was past dawn. Well past.
Bloody hours past. "Master!" he cried again, and,
heedless of his rough appearance, raced into the common room.
Qui-Gon was not there. Nor was he in his own room. Nor, after a
few frantic com-calls, did it seem that he was anywhere in the
Temple.
Stomach cold with dread, but needed to affirm his suspicions,
Obi-Wan hurried to Qui-Gon's closet and threw open the doors.
He was horribly, sickeningly right. His Master's clothes were
gone. A few boxes and books had been removed from the shelves
of the room, but not many. And then Obi-Wan saw, sitting rather
inconspicuously on one of the upper shelves--the lightsaber.
Qui-Gon's lightsaber.
He felt himself becoming hysterical and squashed it down as
quickly as he could. Sith. Shit. The two words were pretty much
interchangeable and had all the same letters anyway, and what
in all the hells had he DONE?!
There was only one thing he had left to do. With shaking
fingers he reached for the com-link again and called Yoda. Top
priority.
A few agonizing seconds passed, and then the venerable Master
picked up. "Expected you, I have, Kenobi."
"He told you?" Obi-Wan blurted.
Yoda's voice was sadder, more tired than Obi-Wan had ever
heard. "Left me a message, he did. Never so shamed have I been.
Not in all my years...never so disappointed in a Padawan."
Obi-Wan felt as if he were dying inch by inch. "Master," he
managed, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I never meant...I'll find
him, I'll bring him back, I swear I will--"
"Speaking of you I was not, young Kenobi." Obi-Wan fell silent
at that, and Yoda had to pause for a moment before continuing.
"Sick and sad, my heart is. Much meditation do I need. But seek
him you will not, Padawan," he added fiercely. "Left his
lightsaber, has he?"
Obi-Wan nodded, unable to reply with the lump in his throat,
even though he knew Yoda couldn't see him. But the old Master
continued anyway. "Good. Deserve it he does not. Shame it he
would."
"No!" Obi-Wan cried, his heart lurching at this unexpected
censure. "Master Yoda, I know what he did was wrong, but I
consented, I forgave him." I love him, his inner voice
whimpered.
"Speak of this now, I cannot," Yoda snapped. "Betrayed you, and
us all, your Master did. Your forgiveness matters little. Not
yours to give, is it, but the Order's. Inexcusable, his
behavior, to mind-rape a Padawan. Lucky he is we do not seek
him for justice."
Obi-Wan concentrated on keeping himself from vomiting. He'd
never felt so sick in all his life. "It...no, Master, you
misunderstand, it was never rape, I mean I didn't know it was
really him but I never once resist--"
Yoda interrupted his panicked babbling. "Resistance, the
question is not. Take advantage of you he did. Take two days
for meditation, you will. Seek out a soul-healer." The
irascible voice gentled abruptly. "Sorry I am, Obi-Wan. So
sorry. Hurt us both, hurt us all, he has. Your training I
myself will undertake. Meant to be a mighty Jedi, were you."
Without further ado, the connection was severed, and Obi-Wan
was left, shaking and cold with sweat, standing in the middle
of the empty, empty room.
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