*Disclaimer*: The boys and the rest of the SW universe belong
to Mr. Lucas. I'm just borrowing them, because even fictional
characters need a vacation now and then... I'm not making any
money off this. If I was, I wouldn't be so desperate for
cash...
*Archive*: Yes to Master&Apprentice, WWOMB, and my
homepage. All others, ask and ye shall receive.
*Rating*: R.
*Warnings*: Q/O.
*Spoilers*: None
*Summary*: Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon must recover from the trauma of
a mental assault.
*Timeline*: Before TPM.
*Categories*: Romance, Drama.
Author's Note: I don't use betas, so all mistakes are mine.
This is a plot bunny that attacked me last night and refused to
leave me alone.
Feedback: Of course! Feedback is my drug of choice, and when I
go into withdrawl I stop writing.
Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon stood side by side, hoods raised, heads
bowed. Before them, a pyre crackled. Its flames lit up the
night, the heat touching the faces of those that watched. The
man they honored had died in an explosion that had been
triggered in the hopes of disrupting the negotiations the Jedi
had been conducting. He had lived long enough to command his
wife to bring the talks to a close.
Kiala had done so, with a calm composure that belied the
intensity of the grief all knew she felt. Peace had been won,
the attempt was in vain. But shortly afterwards, Kiala had
seemed to wither inside. Her strength was gone, with only grief
to replace it. Obi-Wan doubted he knew the depth of her pain.
Kiala and her husband were telepaths, bonded mind to mind and
heart to heart. Who knew what impact the death of her husband
had had on her.
They were about to find out.
The fire, newly lit, blackened the cloth of Kiala's husband's
robes. As if this made his death real to her at last, she cried
out. Not with her voice, but with all the power of her mind. It
was a cry of loss and pain and loneliness. Before any of the
mourners quite knew what was happening, Kiala had thrown
herself atop the pyre, her own pain fueling her mental scream.
The power of it ripped through Obi-Wan's mental shields. Grief
and agony that was not his own coursed through him. He reached
for his Master, only to sense the same turmoil.
The two Jedi collapsed, their minds fleeing into
unconsciousness.
"I'm not entirely sure what happened," the captain said,
addressing the Jedi Council nervously. "When they collapsed, I
got them onto my ship and came here as fast as I could. I've
got to tell you, I'm more than a little glad you'll be taking
them off my hands."
"Please explain," Mace Windu asked intently.
The captain shifted nervously under the steady gaze. "Well, on
the whole trip back my entire crew has been more than a
little...edgy. Short-tempered. Normally we work pretty
smoothly. But this trip...I had fist fights breaking out
constantly."
"How did Master Jinn and his apprentice seem when you last saw
them, captain?"
He glanced out the windows of the Jedi Council chamber, as if
wishing himself on the other side of them. "Strung out, to put
it simply," he answered. "We kept them separated on the way
back, and I'm beginning to wonder if that was a good idea."
"Do not trouble yourself," Windu said calmly, "they are in our
care now." The captain took this as the dismissal it was and
hurried from the room, his relief obvious. Even as he left, the
healers entered the chamber.
"Masters," the senior of the three said.
"How fare the Master and his apprentice?" Yoda asked.
"It seems that the death cry of the telepath has destroyed
their mental shields," one of the lesser healers said. "The
trauma has left their minds bruised and exposed to the thoughts
of others. They are also broadcasting their distress very
strongly."
"Affect even non-telepaths, it did," Yoda commented.
The healers went on. "Isolating them on the return to Coruscant
was not a good idea. Their mental trauma had already impacted
the crew, so the isolation did no good there. They were placed
in shielded quarters, which meant that they could not sense
each other. Considering the nature of the intrusion, they
needed to know they were not alone."
"It is too late to change that," Master Windu said. "How are
you dealing with them now? We can not expose the children at
the Academy to them, yet you say they should not be shielded."
"We can not help them to rebuild their shields. They must do
that, after the trauma has healed. In the meantime, we have
placed them together in a set of shielded quarters, Masters,"
the senior healer replied. "Thus they are cut off from the
Force sensitive at the Academy, yet they will still be aware of
each other."
"Is that wise?" Windu asked. "If they are both entirely
unshielded..."
"Break their bond, or make it stronger, it will," Yoda said.
Obi-Wan slowly awoke, fighting his way through the sedative
that he dimly remembered someone giving him. For a single,
panicked moment he thought he was alone again, the death cry
echoing through his mind. But when he reached out, instead of
encountering emptiness and shields, he found another mind. One
whose touch was more familiar than any other.
"Master?" he asked, his voice tinged with relief. He sat up
from the bed where he must have been placed and moved to kneel
next to Qui-Gon on the floor. Their bond blazed with the
emotion and thought that passed between them unhindered.
Through it, Obi- Wan could feel that his Master was as relieved
as he was that they were not alone.
"I have been unable to raise my mental shields," Qui-Gon said.
Obi-Wan hardly had to reach out to know that it was pain that
had prevented his Master from doing so. "There shall be few
secrets between us by the time we heal."
Obi-Wan felt a stab of fear at that, but pushed it firmly from
his mind, knowing that he could only keep a secret if he could
prevent himself from thinking about it entirely. Qui-Gon
glanced sharply at him, sensing the evasion.
"What happened, Master?" Obi-Wan asked, attempting to divert
Qui-Gon's attention.
"Kiala's death cry ripped through our shields," the older man
explained. "I gather that we have been broadcasting rather
strongly."
Obi-Wan's brow wrinkled. "If that is so, why are we together?"
"I was not told, but I am glad. This is not an experience I
would want you to go through alone." Sensing that Qui-Gon
needed the touch of a familiar mind as well, Obi-Wan smiled.
"I am going to shower, Master," he said, rising. "I feel as if
I've been in these clothes forever." Qui- Gon nodded and went
to the computer console in the sitting room to read. As the
warm spray rained down on him, Obi-Wan found himself picking up
stray facts about one of the outer rim worlds. He couldn't help
but grin when he sensed that his Master was getting bored, and
was forcing himself to read to the end of the document.
Stepping out of the shower, Obi-Wan wrapped a towel about his
waist and picked up his robes. In the bedroom he found the
chute that led to the laundry and tossed his soiled clothing
into it. Leaning against the doorframe, he grinned at his
Master as Qui-Gon finished his reading and turned off the
console.
"I knew you found those things just as boring as I did,"
Obi-Wan said, a shade of triumph in his voice.
Qui-Gon sighed, but Obi-Wan knew he smiled a little as he
turned away from the screen. "I can see that my image of the
stoic Jedi Master is not going to survive this."
Obi-Wan opened his mouth to reply, but a sudden succession of
emotions silenced him. He felt a stab of something, so brief he
could only describe it as intense, from Qui-Gon, followed by a
wash of arousal that was as quickly tamped out as the fear that
came next.
"Master," Obi-Wan said, startled by the flood of emotions from
his normally reserved teacher and wondering what had prompted
them. Surely it could not have been him...
"Padawan," Qui-Gon said firmly, "you should meditate. We must
rebuild our shields ourselves. This is not something the
healers can help us with." Obi-Wan hesitated, but obeyed. He
found it much easier to calm his own thoughts with the serenity
of his Master's mind so close, mentally and physically.
The rest of the day passed in peace, the openness between them
not seeming that much more than what he had felt along their
bond prior to Kiala's death. Obi-Wan realized, at one point,
that this was evidence of the unusual closeness of their bond.
Qui-Gon merely smiled at his student's revelation, but Obi-Wan
could see what his Master was not saying, now. It was not
merely unusual closeness, it was rare enough that Yoda had
commented on it to his Master.
That evening Obi-Wan slid in between the sheets of his bed,
curling up on his side and facing the wall. Qui-Gon settled
himself in his own bed a short time later, and the two Jedi
waited for sleep to come. Darkness closed in on Obi-Wan, the
starlight doing little to relieve it. For a moment Obi-Wan was
frozen by an intense loneliness, Kiala's cry of pain and
loneliness echoing in his heart and chilling him to the bone.
Then a weight disturbed his mattress, and a warm body joined
him under the sheet. Obi-Wan smiled a little, covering the arms
that embraced him with his own hands, taking as much comfort in
the reality of the touch as his Master did. Sleep claimed him
shortly thereafter.
He stood in the center of a brightly-lit room. White light
flooded every corner, illuminated every crevice...but one. A
tiny crevice, no more than a pockmark in the white walls,
seemed to swallow the light. He watched, horrified, as the
darkness consumed the brightness. It could not be said to grow,
for there was nothing of creation in it. Rather, it destroyed.
Nor did the blackness spread like a liquid, pooling and
spilling across the floor. Instead it reached twisted tentacles
across the walls and ceiling, reaching out for him like
fingers. The closer they approached, the thinner his grip on
his fear became. He found that he could not guard against it,
his shields were in tatters, his mind exposed. As the darkness
wrapped about one ankle, a cry that was at once familiar and
out of place sounded in his heart.
Obi-Wan awoke, trembling violently. He didn't know if the
nightmare has been his own or Qui- Gon's, but they had both
felt it. It shook them both equally. Turning to face his
Master, Obi-Wan wrapped his arms about the other man and
reached out with his mind, needing desperately to know that he
was not alone, needing to know it emotionally and mentally as
well as physically.
He met Qui-Gon halfway, their minds touching like old friends,
sharing thoughts and emotions with the trust that had always
been between them. Before Obi-Wan could halt it, a surge of
love poured itself into the bond. There wasn't even time for
the younger man to fear his Master's reaction before he sensed
Qui-Gon returning that love. It soothed the mental bruises and
eased the fear.
Allowing his heart to guide his actions, Obi-Wan sought
Qui-Gon's lips with his own and pressed a tender kiss upon the
other man. Qui-Gon sighed mentally and responded, his tongue
gently asking entry and being granted it. The kiss deepened
even as their bond did, and hands pushed the obstacles of
clothing aside, seeking warm skin.
There was no need for speech. It might even have been an
intrusion into the beauty of the moment. They shared the
pleasure of their touches, the slide of hands, the wet press of
lips. Gasps and moans of pleasure broke the silence, the two
men thrusting against each other. Pleasure warred with the
reluctance to allow their union to end, eventually winning.
Master and apprentice came, shuddering against each other,
their names on each other's lips.
They abandoned Obi-Wan's bed for Qui-Gon's, settling into each
other's arms with sleepy satisfaction. Obi-Wan was distantly
aware that they had healed each other from the damage the death
cry had done, that their shields had been rebuilt...around both
of them. But it didn't seem important, at the moment.
Obi-Wan smiled. "I love you," he murmured quietly, needing to
say it. To hear it.
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