Training
by Draconus
Title: Training
Author: Draconus
Archive: MA, my website
Category: Alternate Universe, Qui/other (Dooku), non-con, drama, angst
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Qui-Gon is receiving training by his Master, Dooku, but it's nothing he'd ever want to learn.
Warning: This is a non-con slash story. Qui-Gon is 18. If you don't like that sort of thing, do us both a favor and don't read further.
Notes: When I started this, I didn't realize that Dooku is only 10 years older than Qui-Gon according to the timeline. In this one, I think of him as at least 20 years older so I'm making him 45 here.
More Notes: I don't know why I keep writing slash in drabbles. Not my normal writing style but there you are. It's unbetaed so all mistakes are mine.
Feedback: Gentle feedback would be lovely. Either on or off list. dianethx@comcast.net
Disclaimer: I do not own Qui-Gon Jinn or the other characters or the Star Wars concept; Lucasfilm and Jude Watson do. I am very respectfully borrowing them with no intent to profit. No credits have changed hands. No copyright infringement is intended.
Training
"Stop your sniveling, boy."
Eyes fierce with hunger swallowed his vision. The beloved, cruel mouth descended onto his own, pulling fear and unwanted lust from him. Burning in shame while elegant Force-strong fingers bruised him. Pushed abruptly down, he twisted, writhed, fought with everything that he had to accept this. And failed.
Fire sheeted across his skin, shredding agony as the man tore into him. Whimpering, he closed his eyes, telling himself it would soon be over and this part of his training would be complete.
One time, his master said, one time only.
Qui-Gon prayed it wasn't a lie.
Desperation
He couldn't get clean.
Scrubbing harder, scalding water over already-reddened skin, Qui-Gon tried to remove the remnants of shame.
Master promised - one time only he said. Training and then never again.
Lies.
Broken promises were patterned across his throat, bruises clustered in finger-grip purple.
The memory of elegant hands clutching at his hair, forcing him down, helpless. Cold instruction as Dooku's hard flesh plunged into his mouth. Shuddering horror with every thrust, trying not to vomit his disgust as his master pushed into him. The mixture of bile and climax was raw on his tongue.
Forever defiled, he kept scrubbing.
He didn't deserve her
"Qui-Gon?" A gentle whisper in despair's darkness.
Pulling inward, shrouded in shadows, he could not bear to be seen, to be touched. It was too much, too much.
Go away.
But insistent hands brushed his hair.
Not again, please not again.
Fear igniting his universe, he exploded outward, lightsaber screaming, fiery blade slicing down, stopping death a hair's-breath from Tahl's astonished face.
Horrified, falling back, saber-hilt clanging as it hit the ground, he hid behind fingers already numb with grief.
"What's wrong?" Pure, unsullied Tahl.
"Nothing." Pushing past, fleeing before truth shattered him into dust, he snarled back, "Just training."
Possession
Blood splayed across the bedroom wall.
Qui-Gon collapsed, agony blossoming in his head; the taste of copper was harsh bile in his throat. He could feel the grind of bone and cartilage in his broken nose, torn flesh pulsing wildly.
Dooku had hit him, had meant to damage, and now stood above him, cold eyes pinning Qui-Gon to the bed. "You will never say no to me again, boy."
The elegant hands straightened his shimmersilk tunic and then began to remove the outer layer, his hawk-face staring down, daring Qui-Gon to refuse.
"You are mine." Smiling with sublime possession. "Mine."
Isolation
"Get rid of her."
Qui-Gon didn't need to ask who.
Tahl had been his only friend in the disastrous months since Dooku started his new training regime. In the nightmare that followed, Qui-Gon learned that pain and pleasure could entwine into an intoxicating mixture of foul lust and ecstasy.
He hated every moment of it.
He needed Tahl and their increasingly-fragile friendship to keep him sane. His desperation and grief mixing with hard rage, he was on the knife-edge of darkness.
Now his Master was threatening her.
He would have to let Tahl go. For her own sake.
"Yes, Master."
Poison
"Pathetic lifeform." The lie slipped from his mouth, all too easily.
His hand about to strike, she stepped abruptly out of reach. Anger in those green-and-gold eyes warred with confusion, frown cutting into her pale skin. Tahl looked as if he'd gutted her with his saber. Perhaps he had.
"Qui-Gon?"
He poured venom into the air, thrust his despair into her gentleness, pushed her aside. For her sake.
"Shut that whining mouth of yours, you little fool. I'm sick of you and your pity."
Ignoring bright tears, he snapped, "Stay away from me."
And left.
His Master would be pleased.
Outcast
Whispers followed him everywhere. Outcast, scorned, Qui-Gon was always alone.
The news of the shouting match with Tahl had spread across the Temple like fierce flame, astonished gossip leaping across the Padawan ranks. When the rumor's fire died, no one would talk to him - he was rogue, pitiless barbarian, shadowed.
Behind his back, he could hear accusations of being a dark Jedi or worse.
He didn't care. Sullen and silent, he sank into his own hell.
And he had nowhere left to turn but to his Master.
Dooku had manipulated him well.
Caught and caged and thoroughly used. Every night.
Lost
A year is such a short time. Or an eternity when there was nothing but pain and lust littering the nights. For Qui-Gon, each moment only brought new shame, new rage. He tried to bury himself, to hide from his Master but it grew only more and more difficult with time.
Dooku demanded total obedience, in the entirety of Qui-Gon's existence. Every thought plundered, every movement guided. His body was not his own. Restrained, humiliated, disgraced, he was told when to relax into climax, when to hold off until the agony became too great to bear.
Every night more training.
Pain
Exhausted from another grueling mission, he wanted nothing more to do than fall into sleep. Drugged with fatigue, he made the mistake of protesting, a soft grunt that did not escape Dooku's notice.
The crack of hand against his skin jolted him awake long before the pain hit. And then forced down, his leggings torn, Dooku was snarling nonsense at him, was thrusting into Qui-Gon's shivering body, fiery agony tearing, blood bitter on his tongue.
He couldn't stand it.
Not again. Not ever again.
Uncaring if he lived or died, he bit into Dooku's hand. And then everything went black.
Sleep
He knew he wasn't dead because every movement hurt, every breath, every beat of his heart.
Alone, sprawled on the floor, he could feel congealed liquid soaking his skin, slimy as blood or Dooku's sick pleasure. It smelled like both, acrid and vomit-ripe. But his curiosity had long been beaten out of him and he lay there, uncaring. Lay there a long time.
He should move, clean remnants of their lust before Master returned.
But if he didn't, perhaps Dooku would kill him and be done with it. A small price to pay. So he went back to sleep.
Escape
No one had tried to wake him up. He still hurt, the black bruises fresh on his skin, torn flesh and aching muscles evident with every breath. Even his bones were full of pain but he could move. Slightly.
And he was alone. How strange.
Pushing up, the dried blood and evidence of Dooku's lust encrusted his leggings and one arm, pulling at him, reminding him of past training. He'd have to clean up before long. Before his Master returned.
But... he was alone. He had time.
He could escape. Leave the Temple.
Escape from hell.
Had he the courage?
Caught
The hunt was on.
Qui-Gon could hear shouts behind him, feel terror skittering across his back as he plunged past dank holes, ragged durasteel. Down, down into the bowels of Coruscant, running from the horror of his past life.
Stumbling away, agony in every step from the training he had endured, he could only hold onto one thought - he would rather die than return to that monster.
But there was no escape.
Surrounded, netted, cuffed, he struggled against his captors until cultured tones and elegance condemned him. "I will take my Padawan home where he belongs."
Qui-Gon dove into madness.
In the dark
Voices in the dark, concerned, murmuring.
He refused to surface. In that place, there was agony and corrupting touch and degradation. Better to pull in, ignore all, find refuge in the shadows.
In his own universe, no one could use him, poison his heart, corrupt his honor. No one could push their way into him. No one could hurt him there.
In his own universe, it was quiet and simple and pure.
Sharp needle-pain forced him into unendurable reality. Groaning into worried healer frowns, shivering at his Master's scowling displeasure, he turned deeper into shadow.
Hiding from Dooku's unwanted touch.
Don't come out
Echoes in his shadowed existence. Ignoring them but they kept intruding...
"Damaged, he is."
Cultured monster's voice - cold, annoyed, poisonous. "The mission was grueling. I protected him as best I could. He insisted on ignoring my commands."
"Not talking of missions, Master Dooku. He has been raped. Torn inside, blood, bruises on his thighs. Know you of this?"
"Ah, that. Qui-Gon is... sexually active, Master. He seeks out deviants, enjoys pain." Suppressed satisfaction. "I tried to break him of this but he defies me at every turn."
Vowing retribution. "He will obey me in time."
Qui-Gon shivered at the promise.
Promises
"I know you can hear me, young one." Master's cultured tone exuded sympathy.
Pretending sleep, Qui-Gon was terrified.
"Master Yoda thinks that you would fare better under his tutelage. I don't agree but bow to his wishes at present."
Showy-gentle brush against padawan hair. "Don't worry, Qui-Gon. We will be back together before the month is out and we can resume our training. I know how much you enjoy it."
Smells of Dooku leaning forward, hand gripping hard onto half-healed injuries. Poisoned whispers. "Tell him anything and I'll kill your precious Tahl... slowly."
Then loud concern. "Sleep well, my Padawan."
Terrified
"Master, let me go." He wasn't fooling Master Yoda. Terror still coated his voice, still leached out in sweat and shivers and bruised eyes.
With grave concern, Yoda patted Qui-Gon's shackled hand. "I cannot, young one. Healing you need before decisions made."
"You know I'll never be a Jedi. Send me away, to my parents, the Agri-Corps." Half-mad with fear, he snarled, "I was always good with plants."
"So much suffering, I sense in you. Your master did this?"
Dooku's deadly promise hovered vulture-steady over him. A lie would save Tahl's life.
Acceptance and despair. "I failed, not Master Dooku."
Lies
"Acknowledgement of failure is the first step to growth, my Padawan."
Smiling, Dooku swept in, grace and style and cultured tones, the perfect example of a Jedi Master. But his hooded eyes watched for betrayal.
His hands tearing uselessly at his Force-restraints, still prisoner in the healer's ward, Qui-Gon suppressed a shudder. Fear began to soak his skin; he could not look at Yoda or else he would break down and howl his confessions. He bit at his mouth, tasting copper and bile.
"Qui-Gon?"
Trying not to vomit, he whispered, "I accept my mistakes, Master. I'll do better next time."
Swarming in for the kill
Nodding, Dooku glided over and brushed one hand across Qui-Gon's cheek. "You see, Master Yoda. The boy learns quickly. I'm sure this can be cleared up by day's end and he can return with me to our quarters."
Yoda's ears turned downward; his frown seemed permanently etched into his skin. "Attacked you, he did. Brought back to the Temple. Under arrest he still is for that reason. Cannot ignore the darkness he carries within him."
"His darkness can be overcome with time and care, Master. I have been too lenient but I have learned as well. It won't happen again."
Don't leave me here
"Good to hear, this is. That accept your own failures you do."
Yoda seemed to relax into approval but Qui-Gon could only shudder at his future. The twist of lust drawn into fine-wire agony as he serviced his Master, screaming in torment and ecstasy as black corruption sank into his spirit. And anger only made Dooku more inventive. There was no escape but death.
Green eyes stared unblinking at Qui-Gon's sweating face as Yoda said, "The young one will stay with me until he is healed. Then returned to you, he will be."
"I bow to your wisdom, my Master."
No Reprieve
"Since my Padawan will not be returning with me, I would like to say my goodbyes to him now. Alone if possible."
Dooku sounded so reasonable, sad but resigned to mild inconvenience. His sympathetic smile spoke of confidence; his autocratic bow showed only Jedi acceptance. It was all a lie.
But Yoda would believe him. After all, Dooku hadn't attacked another Jedi, hadn't been hunted and chained or called dark, rogue, barbarian.
He would leave them alone.
Nodding, Yoda hobbled toward the door. It was all Qui-Gon could do not to weep. But he held his tongue for Tahl's sake.
Conversations
"Outside the room I will be. For privacy's sake. But one word and return I will."
The door closed behind him.
With Yoda gone, Dooku's smile turned predatory. "One word indeed. And that word is Tahl, isn't it, my Padawan?"
Qui-Gon's hands were busy trying to break free of the Force-restraints, trying desperately to escape. He felt as if he could burst into flame, spewing blood and boiling entrails into the air. He hoped he would and be safe at last.
Instead, he choked out, "Yes, Master." And tried not to vomit all over Dooku's boots.
"Well said, my boy."
Words do not tell the story
"Master, please. Don't do this."
Leaning down, Dooku breathed into him. "Hush, young one. It won't be long before you return and we will begin again."
Standing so that no one could see what he was doing, the elegant fingers trailed past Qui-Gon's bruised throat, following his jaw, thrusting one thumb into his unwilling mouth. A heated glare and Qui-Gon knew better than to bite down, instead sucking on it in a parody of sex.
A deep sigh of pleasure and Dooku said softly, "I'll have to remember the restraints next time. They make you compliant."
Qui-Gon trembled in dread.
Click-clack
Click-clack, click-clack. Yoda's approaching cane alerted his master to caution.
Dooku straightened, still hiding behind broad shoulders and Jedi serenity. As he carefully wiped his saliva-slick thumb across Qui-Gon's mouth, he smiled down at him, promising of things to come.
"Ah, here is Master Yoda." As he turned around, Dooku bowed humility, clarity, calm. The perfect Jedi Master. "I leave my Padawan in your capable hands, Master. I expect him home very soon."
"When healed he is."
"Of course. When healed he is." Dooku nodded quiet acceptance. "Until then, my Padawan." And swept out of the room.
Qui-Gon breathed relief.
Storm clouds
Silence. The calm before the storm. Behind him, Qui-Gon could hear the low rumble of recycling air. So quiet that he could hear the whoosh of blood in his ears, feel the thump of a fast-beating heart.
Master Yoda said not a word, just stared at him with hard eyes, sour frowns and a flattened mouth silently radiating displeasure.
He didn't know what to do. It didn't matter, not with Force-restraints hobbling his every move. The taste of Dooku was still bitter memory on his tongue; there were unshed tears clogging his throat.
He waited for the storm to break.
No Rescue
"Have you nothing to say, Padawan?"
When Master Yoda took that tone, youngling Jinn would have cowered behind tall Jedi Masters or tried shy smiles to sweeten the disgrace. Before his torment began, Padawan Jinn would have met Yoda's rebukes with calm courtesy and acceptance.
Now, it didn't matter what he said. So he shrugged, said nothing.
That only sharpened Yoda's frown. "Impolite have you become."
"Yes, Master."
Hobbling over to him, Yoda released the restraints. "Under arrest you are, but stay with me you will - until you are healed."
"Then return to Master Dooku, you will."
He'd die first.
Confused
Yoda was often obscure. Qui-Gon learned that early in life, long before his Padawan training.
But he usually wasn't stupid.
How he could not see the darkness in Dooku remained a mystery. How he could look at Qui-Gon, one who tried desperately to remain in the Light, and see only shadow was unfathomable.
His throat still hurting from the damage caused in Dooku's last training session, he swallowed hard and tried to answer the old Master as best he could - without giving Dooku an excuse to hurt Tahl.
But it was difficult - especially when Yoda asked ridiculous questions.
"Brothels, Master?"
Brothels
"Brothels, Padawan Jinn. Your master said craved sex and pain you do. Find that at the Temple you will not."
Qui-Gon wanted to weep. Lies and dishonor at every turn. But he couldn't contradict Dooku. That would only lead to ruination.
Exhausted, confused about what he'd told Yoda after hours of questions, pained by his injuries, increasingly worried about Dooku's return, he didn't know what to say.
At least, he hadn't been molested for the past two days.
Perhaps he should make something up. Master Yoda never seemed to notice when he lied.
"The one in Cocotown, Master. Didi's Palace."
Didi's Palace
"Didi's Palace, a restaurant that is." Yoda's frown was thunderous. "Have sex on the table, did you? Pain lessons while cooking Pashi noodles?"
Stupid mistakes. Now the whole thing would come crashing down. Master Yoda had been paying attention after all.
Horrified, he pushed back, chair hard against his bruises. Blinking rapidly, he stammered, "No, not Didi's. Manarai Palace. I've been to so many that I can't remember."
Eyes narrowing, Yoda growled fury, "Lie to me, you should not."
But dishonesty had drained Qui-Gon. Yoda's anger was nothing to Dooku's retribution. "I don't know the names."
"Ask your Master, I will."
Lying in wait
"No!" Panic took him. "Don't. He'll... "
"Hurt you, young one?"
It was kindly said but Qui-Gon only shook his head and looked away. He couldn't let Yoda see the truth. "No, Master, it's not like that. It's my fault. Everything is my fault, you see."
The lie stuck in his throat.
Or maybe it wasn't a lie after all. He didn't know anymore. But he had to see this through.
If Dooku found out - the man was ruthless, delving deep into pain's pleasure, enjoying vulnerabilities and despair from unwilling prey. He couldn't let that happen, not to Tahl.
Worse
"Your fault it is, Padawan? For seeking pain? Attacking your master? Or being heartsick enough to lie for him?" The Master sounded so sympathetic that Qui-Gon was almost willing to break down and tell him everything. Almost.
Qui-Gon shook his head. "I'm not lying, Master Yoda."
Pushing the chair aside, he stood up, began pacing the room. He felt trapped and vulnerable, felt like Yoda was trying to trick him into revealing his secrets. It reminded him too much of Dooku and his games. "Yes, I attacked him. Yes, I was wrong. Yes, I go to brothels. All the time."
And Worse
"Nonsense you speak." Stamping his cane on the floor, green with anger, his eyes thin slits, Master Yoda was as furious as Qui-Gon had ever seen him. "One lie after another, this is. Has Dooku taught you nothing but deceit?"
Panic bubbled under his skin, grim tears, laughter threatening to break free with the absurdity of it all.
Dooku taught him many things - pain, fear, darkness. Deceit was the least of the shadows he carried with him. But he could not tell Master Yoda that.
Miserable, he lied again. ""You wanted to know about the brothels. So I told you."
Digging in Deeper
Yoda raised his cane and thwacked the floor once, a blaster-bolt of sound. "Master Dooku, I will confront, if truth you cannot tell."
Dread shivered across his back, sweat and fear for Tahl mixing with memories of Dooku's retribution. His master always won. Even Yoda couldn't protect him from his revenge.
"Then stop trying to make me betray him." Qui-Gon glared at the old Jedi, wishing he could break down and tell Yoda everything, knowing that he could not.
"So afraid of him that you would lie to me?" Resolute eyes watching his every move. "See through you, I do."
Seeing the truth
It was a lie, of course.
Master Yoda couldn't see through him.
If he had, the Jedi Master wouldn't have bothered asking about brothels, wouldn't have believed Dooku. As if Qui-Gon would ever go to such a place.
The idea of him craving sex and pain and wanting it enough to defy his master was madness.
He couldn't bear to be touched - by friends, by strangers, by his own hand. Soft caresses, gentle fingers brushing against his hair, a lingering kiss. The very idea made him nauseous.
If he somehow managed to survive this, he would never have sex again.
Pressing the point
From the time he'd been a small toddler in the crèche, he'd always thought Master Yoda was the wisest of all the Jedi. Compassionate, gentle, understanding, knowledgeable in the ways of the Force, his was the guiding hand of the Order for the last five hundred years, the best the Order had ever produced.
Now he knew better.
Dooku had even Yoda fooled. There was no escape from his Master's long reach.
But the ancient Jedi was still intimidating, even if he had no idea of what was going on. "Have nothing to say, do you?"
Qui-Gon shrugged, "No, Master."
Infuriating
Master Yoda looked at him for a long time. Green eyes narrow and almost glowing in their intensity, the unblinking stare was starting to raise the hairs on the back of his head. It was disconcerting. He supposed that it was meant to be so.
At least, it didn't bring back memories. Dooku would never have stared at him for so long. Instead he would have punished Qui-Gon for insolence. And enjoyed doing it.
Finally, surprisingly, Yoda gave up, sending a long, drawn-out, annoyed sigh into the room. "Most infuriating Padawan you are, Qui-Gon Jinn."
He couldn't disagree. "Yes, Master."
Confidences cannot be ordered - they must be given
"Hoped you would confide in me."
Yoda sounded almost wounded. The large eyes had turned grey and, pacing back and forth in front of him, the ancient Master seemed to radiate disappointment.
Shrugging, helpless to tell the truth, helpless to do more than confess the small rebellion against that demon from Sith hell, Qui-Gon muttered, "Why? I'm already damned. I attacked him. So sentence me or throw me out of the Order and have done with it."
Stopping, his claws clutching his cane in showy displeasure, Yoda said, "The fault of the Padawan lies with the Master. Know you this."
Time for answers
Eyes gritty with unshed tears, heart deadened with grief, Qui-Gon could only bow his head. "Just let me go. I'll stay away, from him, the Jedi, from you. From everyone."
"I cannot, young one. Too damaged are you."
Exhausted with endless uncertainty, memories of Dooku's training, and the threat to Tahl, he was unguarded. "Then stop making me tell you lies. Stop asking me questions I can't answer."
Yoda's eartips lowered, a sure sign of uncomfortable decisions, absolute determination.
But Qui-Gon did not expect betrayal.
"Look to Master Dooku for answers, I will. Tell him that confessed everything you did."
Panic
He couldn't breath.
"No, you can't." Falling into panic, pulling at Yoda's robe with terrified fingers, he stammered, "Please, he'll hurt her. It's my fault for failing. My fault I couldn't... He tried to make me but I couldn't take it any more. Please don't tell him anything."
Babbling, unable to stop, Qui-Gon's dread intensified as his carefully-built deceit crashed down around him. Desperate and despairing, he shoved his hand into his mouth to stop from vomiting more lies, from howling the truth.
Tahl's life was at stake. He had to....
"Knew what he was doing to you, I did."
On the precipice
Time crystallized, iced over. Or was it his heart and mind that disintegrated in that moment?
Shaking as if he would fly apart with a single breath, he murmured, "No, I don't believe you."
Alarm rising, Qui-Gon pushed Master Yoda aside and scrambled away, his heart thudding wildly. Hands fisted so tight that nails were digging into bloody flesh, he flew frantically around the room, shouting at the ignorant fool. "You didn't know. You're lying. You would have stopped it. Long ago."
"But you didn't." With an epiphany worthy of Dooku, Qui-Gon frowned, frozen with horror. "You didn't stop him."
Freefall
Yoda was as sympathetic as a Wroshyr tree, looking at Qui-Gon with opaque eyes and Jedi calm.
"Your Master he is. Trained you as he willed. It is his right."
"His right?" Ugly laughter burst from him, the room filling with shadows and anguish and memories. Rising fury shook him, flayed him alive.
"Do you know what training he used? Do you?" His throat was scoured raw with loathing. "Rape! Over and over again. Pushing into me. Tearing me apart. Agony... and ecstasy. Every night trapped by that monster... and you did nothing. "
His mouth full in tears. "Nothing."
Down into Disaster
He had no clear memory after that. He felt himself diving, clawed hands trying to tear at the old fool. Tumbling through the air, the Force-push thrusting him back and back.
A tormented child shrieking.
Black shadows soaking into his skin.
His face wet with grief.
Madness, unendurable pain.
When he came back into himself, he was a tangle of tunics and bloody hands, sitting in one corner of the room, gazing unconcerned at crimson drops making their way down his sleeve.
Not caring if he lived or died.
There was nothing left to believe in. Nothing at all.
Empty
He could hear the click-clack of a cane winding its way over to him. He didn't look up. No need to gaze into the leathery face of someone who couldn't be bothered to save an innocent.
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Yoda settling down beside him. Claws reached out to touch his sleeve - for permission, for some unknowable reason of his own, to manipulate him yet again perhaps - hovering for a second before falling away.
He didn't know why Yoda was there but he couldn't bring himself to care.
He was empty.
"Sorry I am, young one."
Not sorry enough
"Believed him, I did."
The Master was speaking nonsense again. Liquid eyes, grief-grey, seemed to stare at him, pleading for forgiveness.
Turning away before the numbness evaporated and fury returned, Qui-Gon looked down to brush at blood clotting on his sleeve. He didn't remember when he had cut himself. It should have bothered him but it didn't. Not any more.
"Knew something was wrong. Always did Dooku explain it away."
Yoda's irritating voice grated against Qui-Gon's indifference. "Said you needed a strong hand and strict control but still worthy. Said troubled you were, but in the Light."
"Wrong, I was."
Doesn't matter
His left hand started to hurt, the one with the dried blood. If only the old fool would just stop talking so he could sleep. Then the pain would go away and he'd be free of it, of everything.
But the gravelly voice kept poking at him. "You are powerful in the Living Force, young one. Very powerful."
That clawed hand tried to brush against his fingertips, in sympathy perhaps or maybe to control him somehow, but Qui-Gon jerked away. He couldn't bear to be touched. Not now, not ever again.
Besides, what had power ever gained him but pain?
Echoes
"Sensitive to the flow of living things, you are. Too much so."
Yoda's words were echoing in his head, layers of noise that trapped him into feeling again. Qui-Gon could sense his own anger rising, contaminated fury that took him places he didn't want to go. He tried to push it away, tried to bury it under kilometers of impenetrable rock but the sound stabbed through.
"Master Dooku said you were hurt by missions, sometimes too upset to speak. Used training to help you, give you peace, he said."
Dooku had given him many things - fear, sorrow, regret but never peace.
Truth is not always what it seems
Bile tangled in his throat but only grunting discontent escaped. Master Yoda was watching him carefully, seeming to understand how much effort it cost Qui-Gon not to scream.
"His words rang true in the Force, young one." Glancing down, he could see Yoda's claws tightening, green skin stretched thin with some emotion. "Unhappy you were. Quiet and alone. But you did your duty well and his methods seemed to help."
The twin shadows of Qui-Gon's outrage and shame clotted the air.
"Concerned we were but your Master he is. His is the right to teach you as he sees fit."
Lies in the Force
"He lied." Qui-Gon didn't recognize his own voice. Raspy and low, it sounded inhuman, damaged.
Head bowed, Yoda waited a few moments, clearly contemplating the ramifications. "Not possible to lie through the Force. Jedi have always believed this - until now."
His Master had lied for months, torturing him with pain, shaming him with ecstasy.
But Yoda could make his own connections. "Too blind to see the truth I was."
Shaking with effort, frozen in anguish and fury and loss, Qui-Gon gathered courage for one final truth. "I thought he loved me. Like a son."
And then he began to cry.
Damaged goods
Crying was messy, always had been. When he was younger, he didn't care about the dampness or the drool, only that other younglings would always look embarrassed when they cried and he thought he did as well. Now, embarrassment was the least of it.
He was drained. His hopes and dreams lay in a tear-stained, absurd little grave; they were important to no one but one young, misguided padawan.
"I'll never be a Jedi. You said it yourself. I'm too damaged."
Staring off into unknowable space, Qui-Gon said softly, "Just keep him from killing Tahl and it will be enough."
Not enough
"Threaten her, did he?"
Yoda's frown was thunderous, lines on his ancient face sharpening into warrior scars. The durasteel eyes and a set mouth crabbed nerf-stubborn gave him the appearance of preparing to do battle with a monster. Perhaps he was.
Lifting his head, Qui-Gon met his gaze squarely, "Yes, he told me that if I said anything, he'd kill her. Slowly. He meant every word."
He had never heard Master Yoda speak with such firm conviction. It was almost chilling. "Not if anything I have to say about it."
"Thank you, Master." And Qui-Gon bowed his head in relief.
Never enough
Absent-mindedly wiping at his tear-damp face, Qui-Gon grew calmer, resigned to his fate. "As long as she's safe."
"More than her safety, this problem is. More than the suffering you endured." Master Yoda was still frowning, slitted eyes staring into his own.
"Dooku's lies were taken as truth. What else has he told the Council?"
Grunting with effort, Yoda rose slowly and started to pace, clearly agitated that someone so trusted could deceive them all with apparent ease. A vine snake among the Jedi. "Believe him we cannot." With a sharp rap of his cane, he growled, "We dare not."
Glad
Master Yoda was grim with determination. "Removed from the Order, Dooku must be. Imprisoned where he can harm no one else."
A flash of memory shivered through Qui-Gon. The sickening triumphant smile on Dooku's face after he had beaten Qui-Gon bloody for daring to say no. The broken nose, an agony in cartilage and torn flesh. Bruises, pain-purple, blossoming on pale flesh as his master thrust into him. The degradation as Dooku grunted through his climax. Bitter smells of sex and spilled blood.
The ever-present fear.
Now, at last, Dooku would be the one to fear. And Qui-Gon was glad.
Justice
Qui-Gon did not howl for revenge or ask that his master be brought before him in chains. He only said, "Good."
It was enough. There must have been something raw in his voice because Master Yoda turned to him, face grave and unyielding. "Revenge is of the dark, Padawan. You must let go of your hatred if you are to remain a Jedi."
Trying not to let despair take him, Qui-Gon shook his head at the futility of it all. "It's too late for me, Master. I know I shouldn't but I want him to suffer for what he's done."
Damaged
"Damaged you are, yes, but not broken. You will heal, young one."
He knew Master Yoda was trying to help but Qui-Gon was tainted, shadowed by his experiences. He'd never get clean, no matter how much he tried. "I want to believe you, Master, but I can't. Too much has happened."
Nodding as if he'd felt all the grief Qui-Gon kept hidden in his heart's dark spaces, Yoda said, "Too soon it is. Allow yourself time, Padawan."
Calmly, keeping the hatred out of his voice for Yoda's sake, he asked, "And Dooku?"
"He will come to justice. I promise you."
Necessary
Resolute, he breathed out revenge. "I'm willing to do whatever is necessary, Master."
"Evidence I need. Tunics you wore, perhaps. The bedding... restraints.... "
Shame colored him scarlet. "It happened too fast for... binders. We were still in the common room."
Stuttering through remembrance, Qui-Gon whispered, "He... ripped my leggings when he... shoved into me. My tunic tore as well when he grabbed me, pushed me down. I was fighting to get away but... he was too strong. I blacked out." Bile rose in his throat. "He finished what he was doing because there was... he finished on my tunic."
Evidence
His claws tight around his cane, Yoda's face was outrage-sharp. "Enough to condemn Dooku. Evidence of his abuse, it is."
Qui-Gon couldn't look at him. "I... threw it away. The leggings, too. I couldn't stand to have him on me, his smell, reminders of what he'd done. After he attacked me and I woke up alone, I grabbed some clothes and ran as far away as I could. I knew that people would see the blood and smell... the... and ask questions, so I washed up in one of the communal baths and threw my old things away. Then I ran."
Or no Evidence
Flinching at the disappointment in Master Yoda 's eyes, he bit at his tongue to keep from making excuses. What's done was done. He couldn't change it now. He had known better at the time but he couldn't bear the thought of that man's climax painting him an eager whore.
Yoda let out a long, frustrated sigh. "Know you how to treat evidence. Tamper not with it."
"That's easy enough for you to say when you're not the victim." Grief's fury shook him. "I wanted to be clean for once. I haven't been that way for a very long time."
Testify
His eyes half-closed, seemingly relaxed, Master Yoda stood there quietly for a long time. But Qui-Gon knew differently. Disappointed about the narrowing options to bring Dooku to justice, the ancient one was clearly thinking about what to do next.
Trying to make amends for the blunder with his clothes, Qui-Gon gathered his courage, Jedi calm, saying, "I'll testify. They'll see that I am telling the truth."
"Many of the Council think you are close to falling to the dark. Master Dooku did his work well, sowing the seeds of mistrust." Yoda shook his head slowly, "Believe you, they will not."
What to do
It hurt to hear the truth. He had known that the Masters were concerned with his performance in the field, his relationships with other Jedi, his sullen behavior and lack of friends, the grieving isolation with which he had to wrestle every day.
But he was never dark. Under the black reality of rape, never dark.
"They have to believe me," Even as he said it, he knew it was futile. "My injuries, the blood..."
"Your own, they are." Yoda was gentle but firm.
Half-heartedly, he murmured, "The bruises?"
"Dooku claims you seek pleasure in pain. Believe him, they do."
Reputation
Denial blazed in him. Prickles of memory cascaded down - of Dooku's hands stroking his unwilling skin, of that silken once-loved voice whispering obscenity as he thrust into Qui-Gon's shackled body, of torn flesh and pain and cries in the darkness, of desperation and the death of dreams.
And the Council believed Dooku's lies.
He must have made some noise, some small protest, because Yoda moved closer, clawed hand reaching out again to comfort. Qui-Gon flinched away, shivering.
A slow understanding nod and Master Yoda returned to explanation. "Your reputation. Argue you do and threaten. Your fight with Tahl condemns you."
Bait
His fight with Tahl.
The last time he's seen her, he'd made her cry. It had haunted him, that betrayal, and now it was gutting him again.
Dooku's manipulations had been very thorough. By isolating Qui-Gon, he had effectively cut off any hope of allies or escape. Until now.
Pushing aside his ever-present grief, Qui-Gon drew in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Emotion would only cloud the situation. "Then how do we prove that he was abusing me?"
Yoda's eyes hardened to stone. "Set a trap for him, I will."
Terrified, resigned, Qui-Gon murmured, "And I'm the bait."
Resistance
After all, it made sense.
In the year since he had descended into hell, he'd tried to escape - through silence, through screams - begging or running or plunging into grief. It made no difference. In the end, that cold, smiling fiend had only to raise his hand and Qui-Gon was trapped.
Now he would help bring Dooku to justice.
But Yoda didn't seem to understand the balance of it, the crushing inevitability. Shaking his head, he sounded resolute. "No, Padawan. Still too fragile you are."
"Doesn't matter. He won't be able to resist. And he'll finally get the punishment he deserves."
At last.
Choices
Eyes narrowing, his crabbed mouth pressed flat, Yoda said, "Seek revenge you do even in your sacrifice. Unacceptable it is."
Qui-Gon saw the ridiculousness of it, arguing with the Grandmaster about walking back into hell, placing himself again in the hands of a man who thought pain was a gift to his Padawan.
It was insanity; it was the only way.
He breathed out fear. "Master, he won't fall for it otherwise. It has to be me."
A long, low humph. "This may break you."
To the inevitable, Qui-Gon whispered, "Not this time, Master. Because it will be my choice."
In The Future
"I ask only one thing." Qui-Gon sat there, arms wrapped around his folded legs, but with head held high. A frown pulled at him, sending little shocks of pain across his face - brought on by tears, by memories, by exhaustion - he wasn't sure but he ignored it. This was more important.
Startled, Master Yoda said, "Ask or demand, Padawan? A negotiation this is not."
"Ask, Master." He bowed his head once and then, stubborn, determined, Qui-Gon stared straight into Master Yoda's eyes. "When this is done, I want to be sent away from the Jedi Temple. To the Agricultural Corps."
Another Master
Compassion softened Yoda's voice. "I will find you another Master, Qui-Gon."
"I don't want... another Master. I want to be safe." Shuddering, he looked away, ashamed. "I can't bear to be..."
One cleansing breath and Qui-Gon said softly. "In the Agri-Corps, there'll be no reason for anyone to touch me ever again."
"Padawan, hurt you are." Yoda pointed out, "You may change your mind once Dooku is caught. Wait you should."
"I'll wait but when it's done, if I still want it, please Master... send me away." Qui-Gon stammered into silence.
"After justice is done, accept your decision I will."
Nightmares
The night was full of noises - the whirr of recycled air, his own breath shuddering into the darkness, the soft clack of Yoda's cane as he paced back and forth in the other room.
Qui-Gon had gone to bed, exhausted, and fallen quickly into sleep but nightmares haunted his dreams.
Dooku, everywhere Dooku. A cold, intense smile as he shoved into him, eyes black with pleasure as he drank in Qui-Gon's agony. His Master plundering his mouth as he forced him into degradation, into climax.
Now he lay there, afraid. Of sleep, of dreams, of the future.
What had he done?
Ready
They waited two days, planning for likely scenarios, letting Qui-Gon rest and settle into acceptance, letting Dooku think that he was being healed of his wounds and nothing else.
It wasn't easy. Dooku was not a fool and, although he couldn't hear Qui-Gon's exact thoughts, he could feel his emotions across the training bond. He must have known something was wrong.
As a last minute precaution, Yoda injected a micro-tracker into Qui-Gon, just in case. And sent Tahl with her master on an extended mission far from Coruscant. Secretly, of course. No need to tempt fate.
Then they were ready.
Ready or not
Master Dooku swept into Yoda's quarters with his usual regal grace. Bowing slightly toward his old Master, he glanced about the room, looking with ravenous eyes for his apprentice. A fleeting smile and then he drew back, haughty, his long fingers smoothing his shimmersilk cloak into elegance.
In the far corner, half-hidden in shadows, Qui-Gon knelt, silent, head down, hands clasped tightly before him.
The perfect penitent.
He felt like a fraud. His Master had merely to enter a room and Qui-Gon was already panicked, gibbering with terror.
And then Dooku said calmly, "I've come to take you home, Padawan."
Going home
Walking silently behind him, Qui-Gon could only stare at the hem of Dooku's cloak and try not to think about the moments ahead. They were headed back to their quarters, back into that pit from hell where he'd been tortured every night, into his Master's insatiable hunger for degradation, into agony and unwanted ecstasy as Dooku forced him...
He couldn't do this.
Qui-Gon stumbled, terrified of taking one more step. He couldn't breathe. Trembling, longing to run back into the shadows and hide forever, he only heard the cold sound of his Master's voice.
"Keep up, Padawan."
And he obeyed.
Alone at last
Shivering like prey under the gaze of a boar-wolf, Qui-Gon stood there, silent and afraid.
Master Dooku was circling him slowly, looking down his haughty nose at him, sniffing slightly as if he'd smelled something bad but was not quite sure what it was.
Finally stopping in front of him, Dooku said distinctly, "I understand that our differences have disturbed you, Padawan, but we will work together to make things right."
Qui-Gon only blinked confusion. This is not what he had expected.
Leaning close to his ear, his Master whispered, "Do you think me a fool, my Qui-Gon? Think again."
Oh, dear
Damn.
Dooku must have guessed that his rooms were under surveillance. The very careful way he treated Qui-Gon, the cold but correct manner, his words, all pointed to his knowledge of betrayal.
Master Yoda had thought as much. Dooku was intelligent and perceptive and Qui-Gon knew from painful experience that he liked playing games with his prey.
He decided to go for the direct approach. Terrified and determined, he said, "You raped me repeatedly. That I couldn't stop you doesn't make it right, Master."
He could see the fine lines around Dooku's mouth sharpen, a sure sign of anger.
"Lies."
Manipulation
"Rape?" Dooku's posture straightened in outrage, his condemnation loud. "How you could speak such abomination is beyond me, Padawan. I have ever been supportive of your problems. Your sullen behavior, your isolation, your willful disregard of my commands - a lesser man would have discarded you long ago."
"Then do it and give us both peace." Goading Dooku was dangerous but he might just let something slip. He hoped...
"You have too much potential. To do otherwise would be a loss to the Order that I will not accept." He stared down at Qui-Gon, mocking him. "You will be a Jedi."
Jedi
"A Jedi." Qui-Gon almost spat out the term. A Jedi Knight is something he'd always dreamed of being and now all he wanted to do was get away. Another dream turned into poison. "You tortured me."
"Enough. I will not have you spreading lies about me to cover up your depravities." Dooku barked outrage. "You sought pain, going to the dregs of Coruscanti society to find disgusting ways to pleasure yourself. You brought dishonor to the Jedi and to me in this, never mind sullying your own reputation. You ignored my commands regarding sexual activity, but for the last time."
Reputation
"I would never..."
Dooku ignored him, spitting out, "I did not appreciate being interrogated by the Council. Your obvious sexual depravities brought my honor as a Master into question." Dooku sounded properly horrified but his hooded eyes promised agony. And soon. "They asked me if I'd known about your proclivities and what I had done to stop your filthy dalliances. Luckily, the Jedi Council was able to see past this and realize that you are old enough to slip out without my permission."
His hand brushing lightly against his tunic, Dooku said proudly, "My reputation is clear. Yours is not."
Sullied
"What did you tell them?" Qui-Gon tried not to sound sullen but Dooku's efforts to spread more lies about him only sickened him into despair.
Dooku pinned him with an unwavering glare. "You will address me as Master. If you have no shame in your own depravities, the least you could do as a Padawan of the Jedi Order is treat me with respect. If not, I would have the right to discipline you to the fullest extent of the Code, including physical punishment if necessary."
He saw the hungry dare in Dooku's eyes.
The sandpanther was tormenting his prey.
Remain calm
Smiling.
The man he had once adored as almost-father was smiling. And it made him sick with dread.
"Hear me, Padawan Jinn. You will stop spreading lies about me, especially the ones about rape or hurting you. It is an abomination and completely without merit. The Council had the degrading task of investigating the possibility and found the idea absurd."
Voice hardened into stone, Dooku drew back, his arms folded across his chest. "They have grave doubts about you, Qui-Gon, as do I. Some mentioned isolation, even imprisonment if you persist in your wild accusations, in this madness of yours."
Madness
"What?" Qui-Gon could not believe what he was hearing.
But Dooku only nodded, explaining coldly, "Yes, madness. The Council is aware of your increasingly odd behavior. This latest example of reckless disregard coupled with your absurd lies lead some to think that you may be going insane. And this conversation does not bode well in your defense."
Dooku stepped closer, his voice intense as a lightsaber blade cutting into skin. "If you accuse me again of rape, I will have to insist that they detain you until you are well. I'm sure with drugs and treatment, you will be fine."
Clear
His Master reached out, grabbing Qui-Gon's shoulder with all deliberation, seeming to revel in the trembling flesh beneath his fingertips. His thumb pushed in, hard, sending white pain down one arm. A warning.
Qui-Gon stood there, helpless and terrified, his mind reeling with possibilities.
"It breaks my heart to see you so confused, Qui-Gon. I hope that I have opened your eyes to the consequences of your behavior. I made a vow to keep you in the light and I will do so, with or without your cooperation."
His eyes were as cold as death. "Do I make myself clear?"
Very Clear
"I... yes, Master, very clear." Pushing aside the fear that he had made a fatal mistake surrendering to Dooku, still he managed, "Forgive me, I'll try to do better in future."
The hungry smile on Dooku's face promised retribution but his words were almost light, seemingly concerned about his Padawan. "My boy, your faults are many but you have a good heart." One last intense squeeze on his shoulder, shooting agony straight to Qui-Gon's fingertips, and he let go. "Your delusions worry me, Padawan. I will have to keep a close watch on you from now on. As a precaution."
Master
"Thank you, Master, for your concern." The lies tangled in his throat but he was able to choke them out.
Dooku watched him carefully, his eyes boring into Qui-Gon's own for a moment before he let his gaze drop downward and then back up. To an onlooker, they would have seen the compassionate gaze of an irate Master, contemplating his wayward apprentice. But, instead, Qui-Gon knew it to be the studied air of a slave owner, looking at his possession.
Then Dooku turned away and sat down, motioning him to kneel at his feet.
All Qui-Gon could do was obey.
Apprentice
Memories crowded Qui-Gon's vision.
Too often, kneeling before his Master meant only one thing - servicing the man he had learned to despise. Even now, the bile rose in his throat, bitter dregs of urine and climax. Dooku's groaning pleasure, the once-loved hand holding him down, his mouth brutally raped while Qui-Gon struggled in near-suffocation.
Dooku seemed to sense his discomfort, ignored it. "Since the Council is so troubled about your actions over the past few months, they have seen fit to assign us to the Temple. To watch you. I do not agree but we will make the best of it."
At the Temple
His master settled back, staring at him with critical eyes. "You are confined to quarters when not attending classes or practicing lightsaber drills. The Council wants to keep you from contaminating the other Padawans with your licentiousness so you are not to speak or interact with them unless I approve."
When Qui-Gon did not react to the news, Dooku bit out, "Are you paying attention, Jinn? Because if you are not, I can find ways to motivate you into doing so. In ways that you may not like."
Dooku was relentlessly inventive. Qui-Gon wasn't sure he could survive his motivation.
More questions
Swallowing hard, Qui-Gon answered softly, "We are confined to the Temple. I am not to talk to the other Padawans... Master."
Master Dooku sent him a scathing look, as if he were disappointed. Perhaps he was. A short, deep sigh and he asked, "Now, what have you and Master Yoda been discussing these last two days?"
Knowing that Dooku would be able to see through his lies if he wasn't careful, Qui-Gon let hatred and red fury rise, his roiling emotions churning shadow and chaos into the Force.
Looking away, Qui-Gon muttered - too quickly, "Nothing. I didn't tell him anything."
Simple questions
In the Force, lies could be hidden in strong emotion but Dooku must have known that. Frowning, he said sharply, "Padawan, what troubles you so much about a simple question?"
When Qui-Gon shook his head, his long-repressed anger at his master mounting sharp, he spat out, "I didn't tell him anything." And then he reeled back as Dooku's hand slammed into his face.
Scrambling to get away, his mouth full of copper pain, he ducked his head, hoping to ward off another attack. "Please, Master, please. I didn't... "
Cold, cruel, determined, Dooku growled out, "Don't lie to me again."
Simple answers
It was a delicate balance. Jedi were supposed to avoid strong emotion, especially the darker ones, and for good reason. But Qui-Gon knew that anything else would reveal too much. Besides, he was already broken. One more transgression of the Code would make no difference.
Pouring fear into the Force, he huddled there, looking up into Dooku's remorseless eyes. "He accused me of going to brothels and I got angry. I denied it but he kept asking so I made something up. Then he got really offended. I didn't know what else to do."
"Brothels... your reputation precedes you, Padawan."
Brothels were not the problem
Dooku let out an ugly laugh. "My old master has quite a sense of the droll."
For one long moment, he seemed to enjoy the panic spilling across Qui-Gon's face, Dooku watching him with cool distaste.
As he sat back, one leisurely hand gestured for Qui-Gon to kneel before him once more. The penitent Padawan before his exasperated Master.
As Qui-Gon settled gingerly back into position, Dooku asked, "Did you tell Master Yoda the truth?"
He could only shake his head in misery. "He wouldn't have believed me anyway."
With bitter irony and smiles. "A Jedi always tells the truth."
A Jedi tells the truth
"Qui-Gon." A soft voice, low and intense.
Shivering in anticipation, he looked up to find his master watching him with hooded, hungry eyes. His breath hitched, his mind spiraling into panic. He had seen that look before and it always meant degradation, tearing pain and the core-deep shame of unwanted climax.
It was beginning and Qui-Gon was terrified.
He didn't dare move. He had to see it through and, on the other side of this nightmare, he would be free.
Leaning forward, Dooku's quiet murmur destroyed that hope. "Did you think to trap me? I know we are being watched."
Never a fool
"No, I... "
Black eyes, vulture-strong, stared down at Qui-Gon but his master's voice was a charade of annoyance and tense resignation, as if he were at the end of his patience with training such a wayward student. "Stop lying to me, Padawan. It does you no credit and with each falsehood, your chance at becoming a Knight only grows more remote."
"I'm not lying." Heart-sore and despairing, Qui-Gon only managed to sound petulant.
"Meditate on your transgressions until I return. We will talk further, I promise you." Then, hovering close, Dooku whispered, "You have condemned her. Remember that well."
What do I do, Master?
He was alone. The air seemed cleaner somehow and he could breathe again. Of course, he was locked in and he had no comlink but, for the moment, the anxiety was nothing to the questions haunting him.
Tahl was on a mission far from Coruscant and out of Dooku's reach, but what would happen when she returned?
What if they never got the evidence they needed? The Council could not keep them here forever, endlessly waiting for proof.
A mission would come. He would be vulnerable and alone - and in hell.
"Master Yoda, what do I do?"
There was no reply.
Meditation
Tahl's translucent face floated above him - tear-stained, mouth open and ugly in death. He tried to reach out to her, to bring her back, but his fingers passed through the blue shadow-stain. He was left with nothing but air. Heard himself crying out, denial and grief and fury wrapped in blame.
It was all his fault. Her eyes, milky-opaque, glared contempt, blaming him, condemning him.
No, no, no!
Drowning in bile, groaning out his terror, shouting at her to save herself, Qui-Gon began to fight against hands holding him down.
And suddenly he was aware again, looking into Dooku's furious face.
Meditation part 2
"I told you to meditate, not fall sleep." The man was spitting displeasure, his hand clenched in Qui-Gon's tunic. "You disobey me at every turn, Jinn."
"Master, please, I wasn't asleep. It was a... "
He almost started to say vision but this was no master for confidences and discussion. This was a demon who would twist everything into poison. Gulping back the truth, he murmured, "I'm sorry, I was daydreaming."
He waited for the pain. It didn't take long.
A blinding flash of skin and his cheek was suddenly throbbing.
Harsh whisper. "She's gone but you knew that already."
And so the dance begins
"Who is gone?" Qui-Gon tried to sound confused but he was too worried about Tahl for pretense.
He could see that the man was on a knife-edge. Hands shaking, his eyes black with anger, his mouth was a red gash in pale skin. Lines of outrage sharpened his face into a feral mask. This was a very dangerous moment.
Qui-Gon welcomed it. If Dooku fell, if he gave into bloodlust, he would be free, even if he died of it. He would be free at last.
But his master must have seen something in Qui-Gon's face.
Dooku let him go.
Step one
Drawing back, his master brushed at his tunic, straightening the lines of tabard and belt until they were perfect refinement. His face was still tight with anger but he was breathing slowly, as if ridding himself of unwanted emotion.
When he seemed finally clear of the fury that had brought him so close to violence, Dooku looked down at Qui-Gon with sour distaste.
"Padawan, you will confine yourself to your room until tomorrow. Your continual lies are unacceptable. I will use force if necessary to make you stop. Master Yoda has agreed to this. Do you understand?"
"Master Yoda agreed?"
Disturbed
Dooku smiled, delighted malice in his eyes. "Yes, I talked with him about your problems. After all, you had been with him for two days. I thought it best to discuss my concerns with him. My old master seemed most disturbed."
Qui-Gon had to remind himself that this had been one of the scenarios that he and Master Yoda had discussed only yesterday. But at the moment, it tasted of betrayal.
He couldn't quite keep the hurt out of his voice. "I'm sorry, Master."
"I am sure you are not. But you will be." Dooku mocked him. "You will be."
Days
It didn't get better after that. The days were filled with cruelty. Physical activity brought anguish. The katas, long ago a source of joy in the dance, became a continual barrage of punishment as Dooku used its physicality to touch him in pain. In lingering caresses. It was almost as if Dooku knew how much he hated it. Perhaps he did.
Lightsaber drills were worse. Dooku wielded his saber like a knife. Qui-Gon had several burns across his chest and arms, enough so that Master Yoda stepped in to take over Qui-Gon's training in saber-play. Dooku reluctantly agreed.
The nights...
And Nights
The nights were the worst. Qui-Gon could take physical punishment. As a Padawan, he'd been subjected to danger many times. Jedi, even younglings, were expected to accept pain and let it go.
But anger and continual verbal dueling between him and Dooku were starting to wear him down. He felt as if he were drowning in fury.
His master woke him at odd hours, touching him on the face or hands. Nothing that could be considered inappropriate, certainly not enough for evidence but afterwards, he wouldn't be able to sleep, too disturbed by memories of other nights.
He was exhausted.
Spiraling down
And so it spiraled down and down until he felt that he would shatter into dust.
The few times he'd talked with Master Yoda, Dooku had been watching. He could say nothing of what was in his heart. He wanted to beg for release, to be allowed to leave and never return. But he couldn't.
Dooku would still be at the Temple, still free to hurt Tahl, still free to take on a new apprentice and torture them into darkness.
So Qui-Gon stayed.
At least, the vision of Tahl's death didn't return. That gave him hope.
Then things got worse.
A bad feeling
Qui-Gon knew something was wrong by the delight in Dooku's voice.
Trudging behind him, his eyes fixed doggedly on the hem of his master's cloak, he had no idea of where they were going until the doors opened up and they entered the Council chambers.
Once he'd been honored to enter - the guardians of peace and justice filling the room with light. The wisest of the Jedi Order. It took his breath away.
Now...
Twelve faces staring at him, with distaste or pity or unconcern. Twelve beings who had condemned him to this nightmare.
He had a bad feeling about this.
Time for a Mission
"Master Dooku, told the Council you have that you are ready to resume your duties. However, Padawan Jinn looks unwell. Perhaps postpone this mission we should."
But his master only bowed slightly and shook his head. "Master Yoda, I would disagree. My Padawan has been training hard these last few weeks but, according to the healers, he is perfectly well."
Drawing back into elegance, Dooku looked the cool personification of a Jedi Master. "We both welcome this mission. After all, we are serving the Republic."
With a long humph and lowered ears, Yoda said, "Agree with you the Council does."
Discussion
Master Kel't, one of the newer members of the Council, spoke up, "Since Padawan Jinn's unfortunate sexual choices have become clear and after his attack on Master Dooku, he is on probation and we must consider him potentially dangerous."
Breathe, he couldn't breathe for the lies. Unable to say anything in his defense, shame burning him, Qui-Gon lowered his head and tried not to weep.
"That said, we will not allow him to interact with Republic citizens at this time. The Order has a reputation to uphold and we will not allow it to be sullied by Padawan Jinn's weaknesses."
The Mission
His master's voice was oil-smooth. "I understand and agree. With time, my padawan should regain his balance. Until then, I will watch him carefully and do whatever is necessary to make sure the honor of the Order remains intact."
Dooku sounded so reasonable, a Master dealing with a wayward padawan. Qui-Gon shuddered, imagining what necessary would entail.
"The archaeologists on Yavin 4 have discovered what they believe are Sith holocrons. An easy mission but we want regular reports. And keep Padawan Jinn away from the scientists there. No interaction. We don't want trouble. Are we clear on this?"
"Very clear."
The Mission Begins
The terror was rising sharp, the feeling of dread hovering over him like death-vultures. His hands were shaking as he gathered clothing for an extended stay.
He'd been to Yavin before. His master was interested in the Sith legacy there and Qui-Gon used to love old things, digging in the dirt and the exhilaration of discovery. On their downtime, they helped the archaeologists and Qui-Gon had enjoyed every minute of it.
Now, a return would only bring disaster - vulnerable and alone, no one to help when Dooku tortured him, killed him. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.
Damned to hell.
What to do
Qui-Gon thought that the lessons in pain might begin on the ship. After all, they would be alone on the shuttle for a day before they arrived at Yavin 4. Plenty of time for Dooku to... to...
He didn't know what Dooku would do. Kill him right away? Rape him, humiliate him and when Qui-Gon couldn't take it any more and tried to run, kill him then?
Any way he looked at it, death was the endpoint in this game. He almost welcomed it. At least it would be over and he'd have peace. At last.
But they weren't alone.
About to take off
Master Yoda was waiting for them. "Master Dooku, a moment."
When Dooku inclined his head, a short annoyed bow, Yoda's mouth flattened imperceptibly and then everything smoothed out into Jedi calm. "Take care of your Padawan, you should. Need help, he does."
His master looked as if he'd eaten something bitter but was too much a gentleman to spit it out again. "Of course, Master. He will get my most gentle attention. His faults are many but he does learn, if somewhat slowly. I will take care of him as best I can. I promise."
Qui-Gon tried not to shiver.
Time to leave
Master Yoda turned to Qui-Gon. "A fine Jedi you will be, Qui-Gon Jinn. In time." And then he tapped one claw gently against his arm.
The arm with the tracker in it.
Qui-Gon breathed a little easier.
"Arranged I have for a pilot. Take you to Yavin. Doing courier service for the Order she is. Thank me, you should not."
From behind him, a woman bowed hastily and then hustled into the ship, grumbling about schedules and hurrying and why did she have to do all the... and then Qui-Gon couldn't hear her any more.
It was time to leave.
Dooku's anger
His master was furious. He could tell by the way Dooku deliberately ignored the pilot, and berated Qui-Gon every chance he could - in that cool elegant voice, of course, and in such a way that even the pilot was looking at Qui-Gon with alarm.
But there was hope again. Master Yoda had made sure he wasn't alone with Dooku. And the way he showed Qui-Gon that he was being tracked was subtly done.
He was sure that his master hadn't picked up on that little gesture, thankfully.
He wasn't alone after all. Now, he might even survive this.
Maybe.
Landing
The pilot dumped them at the foot of one of the Temples on Yavin 4, hastening them off the shuttle with mutters of schedules and Master Yoda and payment.
The dust from the ship's takeoff was still swirling high when Dooku's fist smashed into him.
His head exploded in agony, his vision whiting out for a moment. Collapsing, sliding on the stone pavement, he tried to get away but Dooku sent a Force-push toward him, throwing him back down again.
The ragged sound of Dooku's breathing and the taste of copper in his mouth.
Qui-Gon knew his time had come.
Master Jedi
Fear climbed up his spine, shuddering full, as Dooku stalked toward him. The man's eyes were full of hate, his hands clenched tight as if he already had Qui-Gon's throat in his grasp.
Perhaps he did. Qui-Gon couldn't breathe. He tried to escape, feet pushing against gritty rock but it was no use. There was nowhere to go, nothing to do but wait for death.
He closed his eyes, hoping it would be quick, when a small voice echoed toward them.
"Master Jedi, what happened? Are you all right?"
Sheathed in shadow, Dooku whispered, "I'll deal with you later, Jinn."
Apologies
Qui-Gon didn't bother to hide the shiver at his words.
As he turned away, his master was all cool refinement. If Qui-Gon hadn't been so frightened, he'd have noted how quickly the mantle of Jedi Master covered his darkness. Too quickly.
But Dooku didn't care what he thought, hadn't for quite some time.
Bowing to the two archaeologists standing by the entryway, his master replied, "My apologies for not presenting myself immediately. Unfortunately, my Padawan is rather clumsy and I was concerned for his well-being."
The scientists exchanged nervous glances and then gestured for them to come into the building.
Room with a view
Their room was high up in the Massassi temple and the view was spectacular. Below, the jungle was a sea of mottled green and Qui-Gon could hear faint bird-song in the distance.
It would have been perfect in other times, more happy moments but now he could only look down and wonder if he should try and escape again.
His master had gone mad, attacking him in front of witnesses. It could only mean his fury blinded him, that Dooku was beyond reasoning.
It also meant that Master Yoda could not protect him here.
Dooku had won after all.
Running away again
The sound of the swoop was loud but it didn't matter. Qui-Gon had disabled the others and the archaeologists' shuttle was half way across the planet, mapping sites. There was no way for Dooku to track him quickly.
The wind in his face felt good, damp, cool - the layers of Yavin greenery protected him from the sweltering sunlight. And he was alive again, for the first time in a year.
In his heart, he knew escape was futile. Dooku would find him eventually and kill him and make excuses. And be believed.
But in this moment, he was free.
Once
Night had fallen quickly. Far enough from his master's reach, Qui-Gon enjoyed a small blaze, the warmth and protection of firelight giving him a welcomed sense of sanctuary.
It reminded him of the early days of his padawanship - the comfortable camaraderie, the joy in learning about the Force, his affection for his master. Once, they had sat before such a fire and talked of many things, a quiet sense of rightness in the words.
Once, there had been smiles and understanding and shared goals, understated pride from his master at his padawan's accomplishments and Qui-Gon's own eagerness to learn.
Once...
Family
Once was not now.
The boy who lived such warm memories had long since died. Now that warmth was fury and any thought of family had turned into bitter ash
Wiping at his face somehow wet with tears, Qui-Gon stared into the fire. The bright blaze had died down but coals still glowed, black and orange-red, sending heat and sparks dancing up toward a star-filled sky.
The Force was strong in this place. Qui-Gon breathed it in, letting it clear away all his fears, his hopes, his grief of a future that would never be.
He waited for the dawn.
Visions of the future
He must have fallen asleep.
Feeling the Force flow through him, he soared above the jungle - the dazzling light of the Yavin sun setting the greenery into living radiance, blue lakes strewn like bright jewels across the landscape, and wine-cool air in his chest.
But he watched helplessly as shadows crept across the forest, and the land turned black with spilled blood. Ash was falling and he could hear the cries of innocents caught in worlds set aflame, mechanical armies marching through corpse-strewn arenas, Dooku laughing as Qui-Gon died, writhing in agony. Tahl's face horror-white.
Everywhere his master triumphant.
Seeing the truth
When he woke, the darkness was giving way to grey-tinged light.
He felt as if he'd been screaming for hours. Heart threatening to burst through and his hands ached. He could see little bloody trails where he'd torn at his skin.
He'd had a vision. He could still feel the intensity of it shuddering up his spine - a powerful vision but one that gave him no peace.
The Force had shown him a future with Dooku victorious and a galaxy torn asunder in war.
That horror and the Jedi would let it happen - all because they refused to see the truth.
Getting ready
If he'd had the chance, he would gladly have given his life to save the galaxy. As it was... he wouldn't go without a fight.
The Council, in its infinite wisdom, had removed the crystal from his lightsaber. Since he was considered dangerous, they didn't want anything to reflect badly on the Order. But he still had the casing with all the other components. It wouldn't do to have a Jedi without a saber hilt, useless though it was.
Unnoticed, Master Yoda had slipped him a crystal before he left.
There was just enough time to prepare.
Dooku was coming.
Would it be enough?
In the distance, Qui-Gon could hear the faint buzz of a swoop nearing and much further away, a shuttle's off-kilter whine hastening toward his location. Twin sounds of discovery.
Dooku must have fixed one of the bikes and, while the archaeologists' ship had been half-way across the planet, most shuttles were faster than swoops.
He wondered which would reach him first, revenge or innocence blinded by lies. Either way, he faced destruction.
As he took one deep breath, trying to center himself, he knew he or Dooku would be dead by day's end.
Qui-Gon hoped that it would be quick.
Daylight
The black blot resolved quickly into his master's distinctive style, cape swirling madly in the wind, swoop driven with single-minded control.
The Force, too, whispered of Dooku in a chaotic, sludgy-slick mixture of red fury and obscenity.
Death was coming fast.
Qui-Gon stood up, his head held high. He would meet his end like a Jedi, honor-bound and fighting with his last breath. He would be no sniveling coward in the end, afraid of his own shadow. There were shadows enough.
He must have been seen because the swoop changed direction, shooting straight for him.
And then Dooku was there.
Power
As always, his master was the personification of pure elegance. He did not leap off the swoop like some avenging demon, but powered it down, quite calmly, and stood there, brushing at some minute particle of dust that had dared intrude on his tunic.
His eyes were gleaming black, however, and, in the Force, Qui-Gon could feel fury and lust and the pulsing need for vengeance all battling for domination. The dark energies seemed to sheath him in shadow.
A hard, measuring look and Dooku growled derision. "You have nowhere left to run, boy."
Qui-Gon straightened, "I'm done with running."
The challenge
Dooku frowned, his face lined in stone and anger. "You dare challenge me? You young fool, I made you what you are."
Striding toward Qui-Gon with ill-concealed rage, his hand brushing deliberately against his saber as if to remind his Padawan of his precarious position, Dooku said ominously, "And I can unmake you."
"You can try." The calm words only goaded his master into action.
The Force was a firestorm of destructive energy, shrieked a warning of impending disaster. Dooku leaped forward, his saber slashing straight for Qui-Gon's head.
His green blade pushed back Dooku's own. To his master's astonishment.
Bladesong
"What?"
But the confusion in his master's eyes was short-lived and pounding rage exploded into a green blaze of lightsaber energy. The air was ozone-filled. His saber was everywhere, a whirl of deadly light.
Qui-Gon couldn't keep up. Drawing on the Force, he backpedaled furiously and tried not to trip on his own feet.
Dooku's blade slipped past, branding his arm in fire.
Trying to ignore the pain, Qui-Gon brought his saber back into position but his master was too fast. Before he could react, his skin was burned in a dozen places, searing flame erupting into torment.
"Young fool."
Playing
He could hardly see for the agony. Qui-Gon stumbled back, his saber dipping dangerously low.
Dooku walked forward, casually sweeping his saber through the air, malevolence triumphant, clearly enjoying the fight, toying with Qui-Gon. A sandpanther playing with its victim, slowly tearing it into pieces amid screams and blood.
And Qui-Gon was the prey.
Swallowing hard, gathering what little strength he had left, Qui-Gon raised his blade and waited. It didn't take long.
Smiling, Dooku slashed down. A long trail broiled across Qui-Gon's chest and saber arm, his tunic smoldering.
From his numb fingers, his saber fell away into pieces.
Over
It was over. A few heartbeats and Dooku had defeated him soundly and finally. Qui-Gon had expected nothing less. He had never defeated his master in battle and the man had many years of experience.
Now he could only wait for the final thrust that would end his life. He staggered back, and pushed himself upright. He would face this last test as a Jedi should - with dignity and courage.
Dooku had other plans.
An open palm rose in fury and Qui-Gon was flying through the air, debris battering him as he fell.
He was unconscious before he hit the ground.
Waking
When he woke, every inch of him hurt. Fiery reminders of pain was sheeting through him, burns sharp as cut glass and scab-tight, bruises so bone-deep that he didn't want to breathe for the agony, a troubling ache inside his skull that spoke of concussion. The blurred vision didn't help.
His mouth was full of dirt and his nose crunched as if he'd broken it again.
It hurt to breathe, to have his heart beating inside his chest. It hurt.
He lay there, stunned and confused, trying to catalog his pain, to understand what happened.
Surprisingly, he was still alive.
Don't move
He didn't want to move. Moving meant pain and he didn't like pain. Besides, he felt lightheaded and getting up wasn't a good idea.
So he rested there among the dirt and leaves and the breeze cooling his skin.
Breeze... skin?
There was something wrong. Looking down at his body, he saw only skin and more skin. He was naked.
Panicking, he tried to jerk his arms forward but his wrists were bound tightly behind his back and he couldn't do anything but roll to one side. Agony spiraled up his spine.
"Awake at last."
Help me
It was Dooku, smiling down at him, pushing at him with one polished boot, forcing him onto his back. The tug of skin over burns was liquid fire but there was nothing he could do but lie there and endure it.
His arms were trapped beneath him and, although he tried to push back with the Force, he couldn't seem to grasp it. Elusive and unreachable.
Dooku must have used Force binders on him.
His master shook his head, squatting down to pull leaves from Qui-Gon's hair and brush at the dirt on his chest.
Why was he still alive?
Still alive
He must have grunted something because Dooku said, "I haven't trained you all these years to kill you now. Don't be a fool, Padawan."
But he kept fondling him, a lingering touch over one nipple, fingernails dragged against the burns on his chest, brushing the remnants of rock chips and litter from the hairs on his stomach and groin, squeezing tight against his bruised thigh - alternately delivering pain and soothing caresses.
Qui-Gon ignored the torment, trying to twist away from him, hating every second. He flailed wildly but Dooku pushed him down.
"We have much to discuss, you and I."
What is going on?
"I must thank you for running this time. It fit in perfectly. My wayward Padawan, destroying property and attacking his poor old master. They'll accept my word that you've fled the planet. Except perhaps Yoda and he has no evidence. No evidence at all."
He kept touching Qui-Gon as he said it, fingertips grazing hairs on his thighs, one hand petting his groin as the other hand held him down.
Dooku leaned over and licked at one nipple, worrying it with his teeth and then biting down hard. Qui-Gon groaned but his master merely smiled against his skin.
"So responsive."
Stop please
"Why... why am I still alive?" Qui-Gon managed to grunt out. He was having trouble breathing and his head was on fire.
"Do you hate me, boy?"
Qui-Gon was confused. Why was his master tormenting him like this? What had he ever done to deserve such contempt? He stuttered out, "Jedi aren't allowed to hate."
Shaking his head, Dooku dragged one nail across a longer burn, pressing down hard. Pinpoints of fire skittered up Qui-Gon's leg and blood began to ooze out.
"Do you hate me, boy?" his master repeated, "You should. After all, I've taken everything from you. Everything."
Shut up
"I can't do that." Qui-Gon croaked out.
Dooku smiled, bitter amusement in his eyes. "Of course, you can. I took your innocence, your friends and your future. Any hope of redemption. I took pleasure from you and gave you pain in return." Leaning close to his ear, Dooku chuckled, "I enjoyed it very much."
Qui-Gon jerked back, trying to get as far away from this tormentor as he could. He scrabbled for purchase against the rocky ground but it was no use. Dooku pushed him down again, hard.
"I've taken you to the edge of hatred, Qui-Gon. Time to jump."
Hatred's edge
"Jedi don't... "
Dooku cut him off, squeezing brutally against a burned arm. "No, Jedi don't. But I am not Jedi. I haven't been for years." Then leaning back, he shook his head, seemingly disappointed. "I thought you would be smarter than this but I see you need another lesson."
Getting up, he went over to the swoop and pulled out a cloak. He spread it on the ground next to Qui-Gon, then with a great heave, rolled him onto his stomach - handling him as if he were a piece of meat.
"Time for more training, boy."
Please not again.
Teetering on the edge
Without his hands to protect him, Qui-Gon's face pushed into the cloth, his nose grinding against the hard ground. Blood oozed out and his headache spiked into sunfire.
Dooku didn't seem to notice.
Qui-Gon made one final attempt to run. Pulling in his legs, using his head as leverage, he tried to stand, almost staggering upward but Dooku jerked him sharply down, forcing his shoulders into rocks and litter and wrenching his legs roughly apart.
"I can feel your hatred, boy. Give into it."
He twisted away, frantic but Dooku was stronger and the Force was with him.
"I can't."
This can't be happening.
His body remembered other times like this. Heat and pain and slick flesh slapping against his buttocks. The swelling flesh inside him, tearing him apart and all the while, his master touching him, angling just right so that in the pain, he found pleasure and that was worse than pain. It was shame and degradation and profanity.
Climaxes felt appallingly good. A wild mixture of ecstasy and release and searing pain. Sometimes he craved it beyond reason.
He was contaminated, unclean, unfit to be a Jedi.
He hated, as much as Dooku said he did.
But he couldn't admit it.
Happening again
He was roughly pulled up into position, ass high in the air, legs wide. He tried to move, twisting madly so that his master wouldn't be able to...
But Dooku only pushed his legs further apart. His face was angled down and Qui-Gon's shoulders held his weight, an agony all its own.
Rough fingers pressed in, calloused flesh that tore at him, pulling him apart. There was little lubrication, enough for Dooku but nothing to ease the passage, nothing to protect him from the coming nightmare.
And Dooku shoved in hard, one thrust and then another. Grunting his hatred with each stroke.
Screaming
Qui-Gon was screaming, his chest on fire from the burns, his flesh torn anew with each thrust, ragged flashes of white torture that filled his skull with agony. Impaled on pain.
Dooku pulled Qui-Gon's head back so that he had to struggle to breathe, every moment an eternity. A soft laugh as his master seemed to enjoy the frenzied way he thrashed about. He thrust again and angled up just right.
Force help him, Dooku was hitting his prostate hard and the agony was turning into sunfire lust and he pushed back, frantic to feel it again.
"Hate me, boy."
Hate is one side of the coin
Qui-Gon's answer caught in his throat.
Dooku growled, twisted Qui-Gon's head back more, impossibly so. The air was sobbing at him, struggling to get into his throat and his master cut off the supply with a solid, punishing kiss before letting him go.
More thrusts but this time Dooku angled away, denying the pleasure, turning so it was almost there but not quite. A torment all its own.
Qui-Gon was frenzied, craving it more than air or food or the Force. Pain and lust mixed with hatred and it felt good.
"Let go, my apprentice, let go."
And he did.
Truth is another
Qui-Gon was lost. The shadows clung to him, icy and cold but the torn flesh was fire and the pleasure denied came back as Dooku sensed his surrender. His master moved, finding just the right spot, sending white ecstasy into his brain and back down his spine. He felt as if the universe were exploding in his body, lighting every cell afire. Pain and degradation warred with spiraling passion and he was helpless against it.
He choked out the truth at last, a bloody mixture of submission and loathing.
With each thrust, Qui-Gon whimpered, "Hate you... hate you.... hate you."
At last
He doesn't remember much after that. The pleasure seemed to last an eternity, a heady fusion of agony and passion. His vision greyed and he poured himself out onto the cloak beneath him as Dooku grunted out his own climax.
Collapsing, hiding his broken face in cloth, he could feel his master pulling away. The air was cool but the chill went spirit-deep. He was still hiding from himself when Dooku sat him up.
The cuffs pulled at his wrists and his bound arms felt leaden and disjointed. He couldn't breathe but it wasn't anything physical. He wanted to die.
Winners and losers
Dooku had won.
A well-satiated grunt and his master straightened, pulling his Jedi tunics back into order, elegant once more. With a sweep of his hand, he brushed at Qui-Gon's hair, patting him as one would a well-trained pet. "My young apprentice, you've learned to hate at last."
With dead eyes, Qui-Gon said, "May you burn for all eternity for what you've done."
His master chuckled at that. "It's not likely." Then he leaned down and pulled Qui-Gon to his feet, "The Dark side calls to you. A lesson well learned."
Qui-Gon knew there would be no rescue this time.
No rescue
Swaying uncertainly, blood and semen trickling down his thigh, Qui-Gon could feel only despair. He was trapped and in pain and alone. Master Yoda's reassurances had been for nothing.
"I think it's time to meet my master. He has been rather impatient of late. I think you will be a fine addition to our cadre of Force-sensitives. Once you have learned your proper place, of course, and with training," Dooku stopped at that. His eyes gleamed hot and they raked over Qui-Gon's shivering body with renewed interest, "With training, you may surpass even me. But not too soon, I think."
Sweet revenge
"I'll never join you. I'll die first."
His master just smiled, triumphant and knowing. "I think not. Suicide is so messy and rather passé." He reached down and pulled up the semen-soaked cloak, settling it on Qui-Gon's shoulders.
The wet spot slapped against his leg, sending a chilling reminder of his shame.
Dooku ignored his discomfort. "It would be better to kill me, Qui-Gon. Revenge is far sweeter. More satisfying and the pleasure in watching life trickle away can be breath-taking."
Qui-Gon frowned, "You want me to kill you?"
Another chuckle. "Of course, it is the way of the Sith."
The way of the Sith
"Sith?" Qui-Gon jerked back, horrified. The Sith were the ancient enemies of the Jedi and long dead. To hear his master, his once-loved master, talk of those horrors with such casual amusement was an abomination.
Dooku reached over and pulled the cloak tightly around Qui-Gon's shoulders. Leaning in to brush against his mouth, he murmured, "Of course. You don't think Jedi rape their own, do you?"
Qui-Gon, lightning-quick, sent one leg crashing into Dooku's knee and tried to turn away. But his master was ready, back-handed him, sending him sprawling to the ground.
Standing over him, Dooku sighed dramatically, "Pathetic."
Laying there
He couldn't breathe. Scabs cracking open, the saber burns were lines of fire on his skin. His shoulders were past aching and edging toward agony. Shame bled through. Lying there, he could feel the slow trickle of blood down his leg.
He was defeated. There was nowhere to go, no way to escape. And his captor was a monster. A Sith monster.
They were going to try and turn him. Force help him, they would succeed in time. He could already feel the Dark burning his spirit into ash.
"I won't join you."
They both knew it was a lie.
Shuttle
The quiet hum of machinery grew louder. Dooku looked up, frowning off into the distance. "The archaeologists were more efficient than I thought. Their shuttle is coming."
"Are you going to kill them?" His voice was rough and Qui-Gon couldn't keep the horror out of it.
"No, I need them as witnesses to my padawan's escape. When they arrive, I'll just stun them and steal the shuttle." Shaking his head, Dooku smiled down at him, "I have a ship in orbit. I'll dump you there and I'll come back. I have to play the part of worried master after all."
Shuttle's here
"You are a monster." But it was said without emotion. Qui-Gon had burned all his emotion to dust, except for hatred and that was growing, eating away at him.
"Yes, but you'll learn to appreciate me in time." He leaned down, and said, "Stay quiet. If you make any noise, I'll kill them. And I'll blame you for it."
Qui-Gon could only nod. He wouldn't have the deaths of innocents on his hands along with everything else. He was still Jedi - for the moment.
The shuttle landed on the clearing's far edge. As the doors opened, someone hobbled out.
Master Yoda.
Too late
Relief flooded Qui-Gon.
Fury as well.
Yoda was late, too late to save a young, naive fool from destruction. But at least Dooku would be captured. There was evidence enough for a hundred Councils, trickling down his thigh.
Standing above him, his master sucked in a startled breath and then he glared down at Qui-Gon, his eyes narrowing to slits, hatred gleaming in those shadowed depths. He must have known that it was over.
Another flick of eyes to Yoda and Dooku smiled, feral and eager.
He stood tall, smoothing his tunic into perfection. "Master, you are just in time."
In Time
Qui-Gon tried to twist away, hoping that Dooku would be so focused on the old master that he could escape his reach, but his master's boot pressed him back down. His mouth was full of dirt and rocks were scouring the burns on his chest with fire.
He heard Dooku say, "I have tried to be patient but this trash is no longer worthy of my attention."
Qui-Gon interrupted, "Master, he's a..." And he could no longer breathe. He arched his back, thrashing violently, trying to get enough air to croak out the truth but his throat was closed tight.
Air
His vision was tunneling down, shadows graying out his universe. He panicked, twisting, writhing, anything to gather enough strength to fight off Dooku's assault but the Force was beyond his reach.
"Release him." Master Yoda's voice was as grim as he'd ever heard, implacable, unstoppable.
There was one final wrenching squeeze and he was free.
The cool air tasted as good as anything he'd ever known. Gasping, he drank it in, letting the moisture soothe his throat.
"He has been spreading lies about me." Dooku sneered, "Look at him. Parading around in a cloak and nothing else. He is disgusting."
Worthy to be a Jedi
"He is unworthy to be in the Order with his depravities and disdain for the Code and honor. I will not have an apprentice with so little regard for himself or my teachings."
The performance was brilliant. If Qui-Gon hadn't known that every word was a lie, he'd have agreed with Dooku. The man was a consummate actor.
But Master Yoda was not head of the Jedi Order for nothing. He knew exactly what was going on. Dooku was playing for time.
Hobbling over, Yoda gazed at Qui-Gon with placid eyes, "Half-naked he is. Hurt. Let him rise, you should."
Broken noses
As Qui-Gon looked up, Yoda sighed, "Broken your nose again, Padawan. There is bacta in the shuttle. Go, Qui-Gon Jinn. Clean yourself. Then come back and explain this."
Master Yoda's voice was full of exasperation, as if Qui-Gon were a child stealing muja tarts. Belatedly, he realized that the old Jedi did not know that his hands were bound beneath the cloak. The cloth hid much.
But before he could move, Dooku's boot-heel dug into his back. "He's not going anywhere."
The air seemed to ice.
Yoda frowned, green anger flushing his leathery face. "Your apprentice, he is not. Release him."
Broken impasse
The impasse was at an end. Qui-Gon was helpless to aid Master Yoda and more than that, he was much too vulnerable beneath Dooku's foot. One downward flash of lightsaber and he'd be dead.
It didn't matter. Yoda had to know the truth before it was too late. Choking back his fear, Qui-Gon said, "Sith, he's..."
The boot was sharp against his spine, the heel digging out agony in his side, but Qui-Gon twisted, moving one arm up slightly and catching Dooku's foot in the cloak. His master staggered back, startled, stomping down hard when he realized what was happening.
And other broken things
Qui-Gon could feel something break inside.
He was concentrating on the pain, one more torment in all the torments his body had endured, when he heard Master Yoda snap, "Get away from him, you will."
"He is not yours to take, Master. He is mine. And I will do with him what I want." That sounded ominous.
Qui-Gon could not see what was going on. His face was still digging into the dirt and he was afraid to move, afraid to breathe. But he could hear Yoda's footsteps drawing close.
The old master was unyielding. "Your possession he is not."
Possessions
"Made him what he is I have," mocked Dooku. "Mine to train, mine to keep, mine to break if necessary."
Qui-Gon could hear the gritty sound of nerf-hide backing away and that confused him. He would have thought Dooku would carve him into bloody pieces rather than let Yoda get close.
"Mine to throw away," his master growled. "Take him then. He is of no use to me."
With slow but careful movements, Qui-Gon turned his head. He saw Dooku shifting back, seemingly resigned. That didn't make sense. At all.
"Stand you must, Padawan. Too big to carry you are."
Padawans and possibilities
With that incentive, Qui-Gon would crawl if necessary. Anything to get away from Dooku.
With sweaty concentration, fiery torment as his burns pulled tight and started to bleed, and a disturbing ache deep inside, he managed to stagger to one knee. As he panted, trying to gather enough strength to stand, the cloak fell away.
Master Yoda's eyes widened when he saw the binders. And the blood.
"Padawan..." The old one started forward, one clawed hand raised, his gaze flicking between Qui-Gon and Dooku. He looked ill.
"Master," he choked out, "he's a Sith."
But it was too late.
Snap-hiss.
A Jedi uses the Force for knowledge and defense
Qui-Gon was thrown forward, pushed by Dooku and the Force. It would have been a disaster, with his large form and solid mass had he crashed into the old master. Yoda was able to leap clear just as Qui-Gon, groaning in pain, landed in the dirt at his feet.
Dooku used the moment to slash his lightsaber toward Yoda's head. The Jedi had his saber out, a helix of light, intent on keeping Dooku from escape, from hurting anyone ever again.
Qui-Gon needed to stay clear. He knew he was a distraction and Dooku must be stopped at all costs.
All costs
Breathless, trying to ignore the grinding pressure in his chest, Qui-Gon slowly got to his feet.
Master Yoda was able to hold his own, pushing Dooku back and back but his master had found new strength by letting go of Jedi restraints. Qui-Gon did not think it possible but blade against blade, Yoda spinning like a wild thing in the air in Ataru acrobatics and Dooku with his Makashi style were equally matched.
As he retreated, for just a moment, Dooku's eyes darted toward Qui-Gon. The smile that followed did not bode well.
Something would have to break and soon.
Running away
Dooku disengaged, reaching out with the Force to pull debris into the air, shoving it toward Yoda. The swirling mass dissipated with one wave of the Jedi's hand but it was enough.
His master started to sprint toward the shuttle, intent on escape, Yoda in hot pursuit.
Qui-Gon was between him and the ship. He knew Dooku would kill him if he had the chance but it didn't matter. He had to keep him from getting away.
Head low, he barreled forward straight into Dooku's path. He heard sour laughter and the discordant hum of a saber raised to strike.
Lightsabers
As Qui-Gon looked up, the sweep of green blade was bright death, angling toward his head. With shadow-mad eyes glaring at him, he waited for the strike.
But it never came.
Protruding from Dooku's chest, a lightsaber had cut clear through and rested there and was still buzzing wildly as he collapsed to his knees. His own saber rolled away, shutting down as it left his hand - useless.
For a moment, his master blinked confusion and then he reached for Qui-Gon, pain and longing and disbelief in his face.
"Padawan?"
And, as Yoda's saber cut off, he fell forward and died.
Relief and disbelief
Qui-Gon stood there, swaying, did not acknowledge the relief as his hands were freed from the binders, did not speak words of thanks when the semen-soaked cloak was put around his shoulders, did not question when the Force began to flow through him again.
His master was dead.
For a moment, it didn't register. He had been tormented so cruelly that any love he'd had for the man had burnt out long ago. All he could feel now was numbness and a kind of distant grief for what could have been.
Then it hit him. Dooku was dead.
At last.
Numb
Master Yoda was very careful with him. With infinite patience, he guided him to the shuttle. Qui-Gon didn't remember much, knowing only that he stumbled his way there and Yoda lent him strength to keep moving.
His rib was broken and there was some bleeding but the old master tended him, sending waves of healing energy to deal with the damage from that and all the burns and cuts Dooku had inflicted. Yoda collected some of the blood and semen from his thigh, evidence, and then helped him to clean up.
Handed workman's clothes, dressed.
But he was still numb.
Freedom isn't everything
Listening to the engine, he lay there, his mind adrift, incapable of dealing with the future.
Master Yoda had gathered the corpse and it was now residing in the hold, an empty shell. More evidence, he supposed, but he couldn't seem to care.
He had told Yoda about the Sith and Dooku's master waiting somewhere, the orbiting ship and anything else he could remember. All said flatly, without emotion.
Now, he was drifting, trying not to remember, trying not to go and kick Dooku's dead body until there was nothing left but meaty shreds.
Revenge wasn't the Jedi way.
Still an Outcast
His return brought an uproar to the Jedi Council. Of course, the startling revelations about Dooku and the Sith overshadowed his own pain. His abuse at the hands of his master was passed over with little apology. He was only warned to remain silent about Council business.
At least, they didn't kick him out for associating with darkness.
Perhaps they didn't know that a small knot of it was still festering behind his shields. Perhaps they didn't care.
What bothered him more were the side glances and whispers following him as he moved through the Jedi Temple.
Still an outcast.
What now
Master Yoda was the only one who seemed to care whether he lived or died.
Qui-Gon could not bear to return to his old rooms so he stayed with the Jedi master. Hiding, he supposed most people would say. They could be right. He certainly did not want visitors and turned them away when some of his former friends tried to talk to him.
He knew that Yoda was worried. Every glance has compassion and a tinge of pity behind the grey eyes. He wasn't pressed to make any decisions.
It couldn't last, though.
It was time to move on.
Decisions
"A new master you need, young one." Yoda had been dropping hints over the last several days and Qui-Gon had been studiously changing the subject each time.
But he thought long and hard about it, meditating and pacing and hiding in his room. Now, it was enough. The Force was telling him to stay, to become a Jedi Knight. But the Force had not helped him when he was being tortured and he no longer trusted it - or the Jedi.
He knelt before the old master, looking at him with firm conviction.
"I want to go into the Agri-Corps, Master."
Argument
"The Agri-Corps is not for you. A Jedi will you be. I would take you as Padawan, Qui-Gon Jinn." Master Yoda was persistent, if nothing else.
Qui-Gon just stared at him. He owed the old master so much. In the early days since his return, he had thought about suicide more than once and each time Yoda had been there to help him through it. He still couldn't stand to be touched and he kept his distance. Master Yoda had not pressed that issue, seemed to understand.
But this insistence on him remaining at the Temple was not to be.
Counter-Argument
"I thank you, Master Yoda, for all you have done but I can't accept your offer. I'm damaged... too much." Qui-Gon said it softly but he would not be talked out of it. It was best for all concerned.
"Damaged you are but with time, you will be well again. Help you I can. Help you I will."
He smiled sadly, shaking his head, "Help me you cannot, Master." He looked down at his clenched hands, the bones white against the skin, tension in every line. "You promised that the decision would be mine when it was over. It's over."
Leaving
Master Yoda tried several times to talk him out of it. When it was clear that his decision was final, the old Jedi only said, "If change your mind you do, contact me. Take you as Padawan I will, young one. Needed you are."
He merely nodded in return, bowing his thanks and then turned back into silence.
Now he was packing for the last time in the Temple, still alone, still damaged.
His only regret now was knowing how much he'd hurt Tahl and not being able to explain. But he was too ashamed.
Best to let her go.
Tahl
A soft knock on his door and Tahl walked into the room.
He had hoped not to do this. He couldn't face her, of all people, after the way he'd treated her.
Her soft voice broke the silence. "Qui-Gon, Master Yoda told me everything. I'm so sorry that I didn't..." Her hand went up, compassionate, gentle as she reached out.
But he shied away, a shudder quickly repressed. "It's fine, Tahl. You couldn't have known and I treated you badly. I'm sorry about that. I didn't want you to get hurt and he threatened to... well, he threatened."
"You're leaving."
Gone
"Yes, I've been assigned a mission for the Agricultural Corps." Qui-Gon said it quickly. He didn't want her to start arguing with him as well. He'd had enough from Yoda.
"Where are you going?" Her voice seemed to catch in her throat.
"To Bandomeer. They have had major problems with their crop supplies and I'm going to help." He tried to smile but it seemed wrong somehow so he just turned away.
"Can I walk you to your transport?"
He wanted to comfort her but he couldn't so instead he said, "Yes, I'd like that."
It hurt to say good-bye.
Bandomeer
His last memory of Coruscant had been Tahl's tear-stained face and her soft farewell. "May the Force be with you."
The words stayed with him throughout the long voyage. He didn't remember much else, only the image as the planet faded into lines of light. Landing was a blur.
The people working at the Agricultural Corps station were nice enough. No hearty handshakes, no rough hugs, just straight to his assignment and distant, not-touching welcomes. Thankfully.
Bandomeer was a raw, noxious place, full of grey skies and belching mines and despair.
Qui-Gon was all alone.
And he was finally free.
The end
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