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The Librarian and the Biker

by Oncidium

Back to part three...

Ben bit down on his lower lip to stifle a loud moan as his head pressed further into the pillow beneath it. Perspiration beaded his forehead and the muscles in his legs and stomach were beginning to quiver. Sweat dripped onto his taut abdomen from the body above his.

His legs were draped over powerful shoulders, his arms restrained securely to his sides by large, calloused hands and the heated length buried deep within his body was pressed firmly, and irritatingly unmoving against his prostate sending small shacks up the length of his body. He unsuccessfully tried to stifle another moan and tried to shift his body and make his lover move. The chuckle from above him let him know his efforts were useless and he was well and truly at the mercy of the older man.

"Please, Quentin!" he gritted out between clenched teeth looking down at his own body, which was beginning to visibly tremble with strain, his cock angry and flush against him.

"Please, what?" the tone Quentin used was light and teasing on the surface, but Ben could hear the underlying huskiness of arousal.

"For pity's sake, please move. You are trying to kill me here aren't you? You want me to beg, fine I'll beg. Please move, Quentin…please. I am sorry I said anything about your willpower, even in jest… please… oh please… ooohh…" Ben's babbled pleas descended into a breathy moan as Quentin finally took pity on him and started to thrust, building up and quick and punishing rhythm. He released his iron-grip on one of Ben's arms so he could grasp the young man's straining erection and pump it in counterpoint to his thrusts.

Ben's moans turned into a low keening as the pleasure built in him and with a shout, he came, pumping the evidence of his orgasm over his lover's fist. Not a moment later he felt Quentin give one final deep thrust and his body shuddered against Ben's, moaning his name in a way that sent shivers down the young man's spine.

When Quentin had withdrawn his softening cock and pulled Ben into a snug embrace he heard his lover say in his jovial manner, "You, my love, are a sadist…" Quentin laughed and dropped a kiss onto the damp, spiky head beneath his chin.

"You know, it's actually a technique… some people quite enjoy it," Quentin panted, trying to catch his breath.

"Some people also not detained from going to work to try it!" Ben sighed dramatically, but made no immediate move to vacate the bed.

The couple of days away from the library had been a welcome reprieve for Ben. He had never taken more than a few hours in the past holiday seasons, preferring to come in and get some work done while no one was around but he would not have traded the last two days for anything. After the last barriers had been broken down between them Ben allowed himself to be immersed in, not only the comfort, but also the startling passion of the new relationship. Even the smallest and most innocent of touches or glances easily dissolved onto more meaningful caresses; to lovemaking that would go anywhere from hard and fast to slow and languid. He would end, tucked in his lover's embrace, feeling like he'd always been there.

"Tell me again that you love me," he said every time, while he lay heavy and sated against Quentin, placing small kisses on the larger fingers interlaced with his own.

"You know I do, lad. Forever. All through this life and into the next," came the rumbled reply.

Ben smiled and kissed his lover again before he extricated himself from the warmth of the bed and headed for the shower to get ready for work. All too soon, he was standing behind the long hardwood counter of the library, flipping aimlessly though the paperwork Mrs. Flynn had left him.

He was positive that when she had been talking to him he eyes had been scanning him in a way that they hadn't before. He had shifted nervously from foot to foot under her surreptitious appraisal and felt himself blush as he wondered if he was wandering around with another large and obvious mark on his neck.

At first he could have laughed at himself for suspecting something like that from Mrs. Flynn. She was always fussing over him and he put it down to her general concern for him but as the afternoon progressed he noticed that more and more people were slowing down and watching him or going out of their way to greet him and ask him about himself and his affairs. He tried to quell the panic rising in him as his thoughts started to dwell on the possibility that due to his mistake a while ago, they all knew.

Ben started to avoid everyone with their sideways looks and invasive questions, figuring if he just ignored it maybe it would just go away. "Besides," he told himself, "It's probably still all in your head."

After a while the people all left and Ben was alone in the building once more. As the velvet quiet of the room seeped into him and the blood did not seem to be pounding behind his ears anymore, he fell into the lulling repetitiveness of the paperwork he was left, his mind calming.

The draft from the door of the building being opened hit his cheek and made him shiver. He kept his eyes down on the paperwork in front of him, hoping whoever it was would just brush by him and go about their business. When the hand insinuated itself between him and the desk he jumped back a bit in surprise.

Ben's eyes followed the hand that was splayed out on the papers before him and travelled up the sleeve of a worn leather jacket. He finally looked at the face of the hand's owner. A young man, but not much younger than himself, with long black hair and icy eyes was staring at him intently. "I'm here to ask you about a friend of yours…" Ben to felt a chill clench his gut. "Quentin Jinn."

"Qu-quentin? I-I'm sorry…" Ben started to stammer. He shifted away from the youth.

"Oh come, come, come…" the young man tutted. "You must know him. About yea high, long hair, lots of tattoos… Irish…"

Ben shook his head as continued to back away. He didn't dare take his eyes off the young stranger. "If I can make it to the office, I might have a chance of phoning for help," he thought.

"Oh, that is a pity, seeing as I have it on very good authority that he's living with you…" as the sentence came to a close the young man leaned forward over the counter fixing Ben in a glare. He turned to run, and bolted directly into the form of another young man who had come up behind him. He glanced up and saw eyes that burned into his skull, seeking out all his secrets. He fell back into an ungraceful sprawl on the floor, knocking his glasses free and sending them skittering. "He knows…" Ben thought frantically.

"Oh, now, Maul... look at that! Help our young friend up, if you will," Ben heard the dark haired youth chide. "Now how do you expect our friend to cooperate if you knock him down like that?" The wild-eyed young man roughly yanked him to his feet. They momentarily left the floor as he was pulled forward and turned back to face the first youth. The young man climbed over the counter and started advancing on him.

In a panic, he threw his head back and struck the face of the boy behind him. The grip on his arm loosened a little. A little was all he needed to break free of the hold. He delivered a well-aimed kick to the first boy's mid section. He heard the air forcefully expelled from his lungs. The black-haired youth was completely unprepared for the blow. Neither of them was obviously expecting any resistance.

Ben made a run for the front door. He reached out and hit the crash-bar, but the door stayed solid. "Damn" was the only thing he had time to process before a blow to the back of his head threw him face first into it. Ben heard the crack his skull made as it contacted with the polished wooden frame. He slumped to his knees and looked up just in time to see bald shape of the second youth, holding something in his hand. He brought it crashing down into the side of Ben's face. Then all went black.

Ben slowly regained consciousness, the spot on his head where one of the men had hit him throbbing in time to his dull headache. He tried to raise his head but when he did, black spots swam before his eyes, disorienting him and making him feel the urge to vomit. He closed his eyes and let his head fall down to his chest limply as he fought to maintain consciousness.

He started to catalogue the pains in his body to keep his mind active and try to help clear it. One side of his face felt distended and sluggish where he was pretty sure it was swollen. He opened his eyes again and tried to get them to focus as best they could without his glasses. He tried to squint, but the bruised flesh around them protested, causing him to groan.

He was bound, sitting in a chair, and could not tell if the ache in his arms and shoulders was from the earlier skirmish or an indication of how long he had been there. He tried again to gingerly raise his head and this time he felt no nausea, just sheer panic.

Even though his myopic haze he could tell he was in some sort of hotel room. The crack between the heavy drapes let an icy shaft of light in and it looked almost like a luminous wall in air thick with dust, but served to illuminate the shadows of the room enough for Ben to make out the blurred shapes of the functional furniture. He could also see a shape that looked to be another person sitting across the room from him.

He tried in vain to make out any features of the other person. He thought about trying to call out to him in hopes of… in hopes of what he was not quite sure. Then the chilling thought seized him that perhaps the other man was already dead. Ben stilled his breathing to listen and heard a quiet respiration. It might be no use, but he had to try. If this person was put in here to guard him, perhaps he could get him to see sense before it was too late. "H-hello?" he said in a low whisper.

The other person grunted in what Ben thought was confirmation of hearing him. "P-please, say something… my n-name is Ben and I n-need to find Mace. P-please tell him to come here; I n-need to speak to him. If I d-don't a g-good man will die." The other person made no sign or remark indicating they had even heard the young man. "P-please? H-help me… Th-that Maul is mad and …"

But just at that moment the door had banged open and a familiar bald-headed shadow walked in.

"And what? Oh come now, Ben, you hurt me. Here I thought you and I were about to become really good friends and you go and bad mouth me behind my back to Mace here!" Maul said and he dragged a chair up in front of the Ben and sat on it spread–eagle with his arms resting on its high back. "Too bad Mace is, for once, not in a talking mood. You see, he was the one that told us where to find you, Ben. He ratted out you large friend. Okay, it took several hours to wring that little bit of information out of him, but so much for Jedi loyalty, huh? But now he's all nicely kept quiet. Not lookin' too good either." There was a hint of mocking laughter to the young man's cold voice. Ben wished he could close his ears to the words.

"So then, what should we do to pass the time until your lumbering friend shows up?" Maul said in a false good-humoured way.

"You have w-what you wanted, so w-why don't you just k-kill me and be done with it?" Ben said looking at his captor defiantly. He would not give this sadist the pleasure of his fear.

"Oh you will die, Ben. But not for a while yet. No, Ben, before you die I will have the pleasure of hearing you scream and beg for mercy." Maul leaned in very close to Ben's face and ran the very tip of his tongue over the broken flesh on his cheek, causing him to wince. "Before we're done, death will seem like the only mercy left to you."

Quentin looked at the clock on the mantle and started to pace nervously, his long strides making quick work of the small front room. Tavi and Nanuk sat in the threshold watching him, panting in short harsh gasps, as they sensed his increased agitation. "Don't worry, he'll be home in a minute. He was probably just held up doing some catching up after the holiday," Quentin said to them reassuringly. He stopped to pat each one on the head and resumed his small circuit of the room.

He had to admit, he was nervous. If there was just one thing that he knew for sure about his young lover by now, it was that he liked routine. He knew from the outset that his mere presence had thrown Ben's quiet life on its ear, and he was truly sorry for that, but since then Ben had seemed to adapt his schedule to accommodate.

He was late. Very late. Quentin could not shake the feeling if dread that had nestled into the pit of his stomach and refused to go away. Something told him that Ben was in trouble.

"Stay here!" he said to the dogs as he grabbed his jacket and headed out the front door. If it turned out that Ben was already on his way home, he could tell him that he thought it would be a nice gesture to meet him and walk with him. They would laugh about it later.

Quentin's heavy boots crunched and squeaked through the cold snow. It was a bright, dry and frigid evening. His breath escaped form him in short harsh gasps to make small clouds in the biting air. He walked; eyes forward, on a mission, not letting his focus stray even a little.

When he reached the downtown his blood froze into its veins and it had nothing to do with the unforgiving night air. He had not met Ben en route. The lights still on at the old library building and there was no visible sign of movement within.

"He could be cataloguing books," Quentin thought to himself as he approached the rough-brick edifice. A piece of paper hastily attached to the door caught his attention; he steadied it with one hand and read the untidy scrawl.

"If you want to see your boyfriend alive again, meet me at the place of my brother's murder tomorrow at 2 pm."

Quentin snatched the note from the door and balled it into his shaking fist. Fear gripped his heart like an iron band. They had him. They had Ben and had taken him somewhere to call Quentin out. Taken him some place unknown.

He cursed himself for bringing Ben into any of this. But as the initial anger left his system, he thought, "Not a place unknown at all. They would have had to travel from someplace near enough that they had found out about Ben. Or been in contact with someone who knew how to find him. Only one person could find Jinn when he didn't want to be found. Mace." They were with the Jedi at the motel.

He took off at a run toward the house to get his bike. It was time to trap the fox in its den.

Ben had lost track of time. He knew it could not have been more than a couple of hours that he had been at the mercy of his captor and yet under his physical and verbal onslaught, it seemed like days. At first, he had just contented himself with hitting Ben and admiring the way the bright, slick blood coated his fist, but soon enough the torture was turned up a notch and Maul had brought out a series of sharpened metal skewers that he started to jab into the bound librarian. Ben had never known pain like this could exist, but worse than that was the voice. The calm and insinuating voice that droned on almost in the background of the bright pain. Feeding his fears and draining him slowly.

Ben watched with detached horror as that thing, that Maul creature brandished another skewer before him.

"What did you think would happen?" the smooth voice that haunted his every moment continued. "That you would live out your days happily ever after like in one of your stories?" Ben bit back a scream as he felt the cold steel start to pierce his thigh.

"You should know by now, young librarian, that happy endings are a fallacy and that you will betray him and die!"

He looked into the eyes of his tormentor and said "N-not bloody l-likely…" then bit back a scream as the metal bit further into his flesh and caused the muscle in his leg to spasm in response.

"What does it feel like, Ben, when he is rutting you? When he breeds you like a bitch in heat? Can you still feel him there? Inside you? Do you really believe he loves you? Do you believe all the pretty words he says to you as he holds you afterward, shaken and naked?"

Ben shook his head and tried to clear it of the poison starting to eat at him. All the fears and loathing instilled into him at the institution began to take root in him and grow again. The nausea welled up in him as he felt the guilt come to the surface. If what this monster said wasn't true, then why after they made love—no-- had sex- did Ben feel the need to hear Quentin tell him he loved him again?

Ben wanted to scream out and tell this fiend that he would never win, but the dream image of him cradling Quentin as he lay dying sprang into his head. His tongue stuck to the top of his mouth and all he could mutter was a barely whispered "S-stop..."

"Stop? Stop? We've only just begun. I have only just begun, you will soon see the error of your ways and trusting anyone too quickly." The mocking tone continued as Ben waited for the next onslaught of pain.

He tried to clear his vision and bring the room back into some focus. His head hung limp against his chest and he panted heavily.

"Where is your saviour now? Maybe he's tired of you and will leave you here. Did you think he loved you? Could possibly love you? You are less that a fancy to him.... less than a woman he could breed. You are nothing. Not a man, not a woman... good for nothing and to nothing you will go."

Ben tried to stop the droning voice, but the venom was starting to seep in and the coldness was working its way into his soul. What only hours before were the pleasant memories of Quentin making love to him became tainted under the onslaught. He gasped as Maul undid the buttons on his shirt, yanked it as far back as he could over the chair and a razored glove painted lines of fire across his back. The deep blue of his lover's eyes melted to azure pits of hunger. Quentin's face dissolved into that of the Sith, hurting and driving into him with fierce abandon. He wanted to scream and cover his ears from the voice, which kept whispering to him the fears he most wanted to forget. He was tainted. To his very soul he knew he wanted possession by this beast, this hunger that consumed him. Devoured him whole.

"I know who you are, Ben, though you don't." the voice continued,"I knew you from your first birth and will haunt you to your last. Your name has changed and you had been kept safe from your doom this time. But you never listen..." a finger tapped him in the middle of his forehead causing him to shrink back against his bonds and try to escape its relentless prodding. "You... never... listen... just as good is eternal so are we. Just as you are reborn, so is the darkness. You feel it don't you? To your very core. We are what shapes destiny. A delicate dance of light and dark balancing each other."

Ben started to shake as Maul leaned closer and whispered directly into his ear, "My master has been around since the beginning. He is what makes war... genocide... famine... Did you think these things evolved on their own? Every time you feel the need to get involved, to forestall the inevitable. Every time you rely on the love that sustains you, but this time you are ready to know that this love is false." The creature pulled back from Ben and smiled at him. "I understand you and your turmoil. You want it to just stop... Just once, you would like to not carry the suffering of the world. He makes you do it. Not us, but him."

He could see it all again. The strange tan clothes. The fight. A creature dressed in black. The light fading slowly from Quentin's eyes. The pain of loss ripped through him, then dulled into a low heavy ache.

"You were safe this time... cloistered and secure until he found you. None of this would have happened... you could have lived out your life this time. Happy..." Ben's eyes dulled as the Sith's words took hold. He went lax; his eyes fixed, his breathing, slow and deep.

A crack in the door ignited the gloom a bit and Ben could see clearly the other captive. He had deep abrasions and cuts beneath bright eyes that regarded him in the dimness.

"Jinn is here. Now. Bring him!" The slightly panicked voice of the other boy rang out in the stillness of the room.

Ben was unceremoniously untied and yanked to his feet. As he was roughly handled out, he avoided the piercing stare of the other captive.

As the door shut again, Mace finished the work on his bonds. The Jedi had started this but he would be damned if he did not do something to help Ben. And would be damned twice if he let anything happen to Jinn.

Quentin Jinn brought his bike to a screeching halt in the parking lot of the motel, sending a spray of gravel up from under the blanket of snow. He saw the flittering shadow of a slim figure disappear behind one of the doors. He immediately recognised Keagan from his height and build. Dread and anger bubbled up inside him.

He heeled down the kickstand and swung his leg out over his bike. There was still a chance that Ben was alive and unharmed, so he had to calculate his moves very carefully. Raging into the thick of it would most likely get his lover killed. He knew Keagan better than to think that there was not at least one person with him as backup.

Shaking legs carried him toward the edifice as the bile rose in his throat. For what seemed too long a time there was no movement at all. Perhaps they were just now killing Ben, and his judgement at meeting the wolf in its den been a gross miscalculation. Cold sweat began to prick at the back of his neck. He nearly breathed a sigh of relief as he saw the door to the room open again and three figures emerge: Keagan, some other boy and Ben, but the brief respite was jarred away when he saw that his lover was barely moving on his own and was being half-dragged across the threshold.

Jinn fought to keep the rage from clouding his mind as he saw Ben being lugged roughly from the darkened room and into the open-air corridor of the motel. When he saw the cuts and bruises marred the young man's beautiful face and bloodstained clothes that revealed the secret of other wounds on the rest of his body, he could not entirely quell the pang of guilt that flashed across his mind. Ben was an innocent in all of this and if he hadn't blindly and selfishly tied the young man to him, right now he would be sitting at home reading on of his damned faery tales and perhaps scratching one of the dogs behind the ears. Instead, he was here out in the cold winter night with just his shirt and trousers for protection from the biting air, beaten and being used as bait.

His hands twitched involuntarily and curled into fists as his lover was roughly shoved to the floor and there he knelt, as the Jedi started to emerge from their rooms to find out about the noise. Soon the corridor was filled with all of the gang, various states of alarm and confusion in their expressions. Only the cackling of Yoda broke through the murmur, but nothing, not even the jostling of the bodies as they moved past Ben, seemed to really be noticed by the young man. The rise and fall of his chest and plumes of vapour from his slightly opened mouth revealed deep, slow breathing and his eyes remained unblinking and fixed forward. Jinn noted that not even a shiver ran through the young body. His eyes seemed dull, distant and completely unaware of his surroundings.

Jinn finally gave in to the anger and fear, knowing that something horrible had happened at the hands of one or both of the Sith gang members. His blood pounded in his ears and he felt the adrenaline flood his system, they would pay and pay dearly for hurting Ben.

Maul could not hide the disappointment as it flashed over his features when he got his first look at the legendary Jinn. When Maul had heard about the celebrated enforcer, from his boss and his fellow Sith; he had always pictured a man of almost mythic proportions, a veritable giant. But his man before him, ashen-faced with fear was not the formidable opponent he was expecting. All Maul saw before him was a panicked old man.

He snarled in frustration: the thirst to maim and destroy that had been building in him would go unsatisfied again. Under the iron fist of his boss, he had been trained for years to crave it and yearn for it, like a powerful drug that caused him almost physical pain if not satiated. The little sessions with Mace and then Ben had only served to fuel the fire of the hunger within him; the need for blood that, like a black pit inside him, was always with him and never fulfilled.

He wished now that he had killed Mace, he had hoped that the gnawing inside would finally be replete by the killing of the mythic Jinn, but his hopes had been in vain. Perhaps he could lash out at the subdued Ben, as he knelt in his almost blind resignation at his feet. He could kill the boy here and watch with glee as pain contorted the old man's face, watching his catamite die. But he had orders. Kill the old man, but bring the boy to his boss and he knew better than to defy him.

"But the boss only said that the boy not be killed, but there are still things I could do to him and not have him killed," Maul thought as a grin spread over his face and an answering throb in his groin. "After the aged battle horse, Jinn, is dead, I will show the librarian that there can be all new ways to make him scream and beg for death. But life is very rarely merciful, my pretty."

Ben tried to make his legs work as he was pulled from the warm dark room into the harsh lamplight of the open corridor, the wind ripping through his thin garments, but it was next to impossible for him to move at all. The world around him seemed distant and washed out, as if seeing it only in a dream. He felt himself being thrown to the ground, but did not feel the impact the hard boards made against his knees. Everything was cottony, buffeted from his senses. The dull thud of hitting the ground barely registered, as his eyes remain fixed ahead of him.

The noise of the people around him was muted and remote, as if heard through water. He wanted to look around to discern his surroundings, but his vision seemed to be obscured by more than just his usual myopic blur, it was more like looking through a cloud. He could barely make out Quentin standing just a small distance from him, legs astride as if waiting. He wanted to call out to him, warn him about Maul, but a red curtain replaced the cloud, and an electrical hum seemed to fill his ears. His voice stuck in his throat as if it could not penetrate the wall in front of him.

Quentin's stomach roiled as if he had swallowed a live snake and his pulse hammered in his ears, but he could not and would not let them see that they had hit his Achilles heel. That would spell the death for both him and Ben. He continued to try and calm his mind and think of alternatives of how to get his lover out of this situation safe. There always had to be an alternative, some way of negotiating. But his mind would stubbornly only focus on his anger. Out of the morass of all his tumultuous emotions, one answer bubbled up to him. Eventually Ben would understand and perhaps even forgive him. He didn't know a promise of forever could be so short: he would trade his life for his love's. With a heavy heart and stony resolve, he called up to the assembly before him. "You quarrel is not with Ben, Keagan, it's with me. Let him go and you and I can settle this once and for all." He berated himself slightly at the half-truth. He had been powerless to stop Xan's death and he would not make that mistake again.

"That is the plea of a dead man, Keagan. You're not going to listen are you?" Maul sneered, his impatience causing him to overstep his designated role as the Sith's second in command. He looked sidelong at Keagan, his lip curling and eyes flashing with deadly intent, daring the other boy to take up his challenge.

Keagan drew himself up, looked over at the bowed young man and with an impatient gesture toward him, said, "Is this what you were looking for, Jinn? Is this the pathetic creature you would give up your sanctuary for? You always claimed you were a just man, Jinn, perhaps it would serve justice better if I were to take and eye for an eye?" He stepped toward Ben and delivered a brutal backhand to the young man's already swollen jaw. He sent the young librarian crashing down against the frozen boards of the walkway. He stepped over the fallen man and yanked his head back by the hair, exposing the smooth column of his ivory throat and held his knife against it. He pressed lightly into the skin, bringing a red pearl of blood to the surface, causing Quentin to step forward in reaction then stop in shock as a dozen or more young men seemed to materialise from nowhere on the walkway and surround the grim tableau with an imposing presence.

Ben was dimly aware that Quentin was trying to negotiate for his freedom, to trade his life for his own. He wanted to shout and stop him, tell him to get as far away as possible. Maul would honour no deal, and they would both end up dead, but the words died before he could even draw in the breath it would take. He heard the voice of an angry young man, rejecting the offer. His head lolled lazily in the direction of the voice, but the curtain allowed him to see nothing but Maul and empty space. An unseen blow caused Ben's head to snap back with a sickening crunch and he fell forward onto the boards of the walkway. As he fought for consciousness, he saw Quentin step forward slightly then get stopped by an invisible force and he distantly felt something hard press into the skin of his throat.

Maul had not calculated for Keagan trying to kill Ben himself. For someone who prided himself on his ability to plan for anything he was usually such a linear thinker, and while this turn in events would normally have entertained Maul, he had his orders. The boy must be alive. Using his small mobile phone, he had signalled the Sith, who had remained concealed just a short distance away from the motel when Quentin had arrived and sent the order for them to advance as soon as Keagan acted.

The Jedi didn't know what hit them as they found themselves surrounded and overpowered by the younger, quicker opponents. Using the distraction to his advantage, Maul leapt the couple of steps between him and Keagan and tried to wrestle his arm away from Ben's throat.

"You knew the orders as well as I did, Keagan, Sidious was right to not trust you…" he hissed in his friend's ear as he squeezed Keagan's wrist until he heard the shriek of pain and the satisfying crack of bone and sinew giving way under the assault. He snatched up the knife as it went clattering to the ground. With an upward motion he stabbed the sharp blade back into the top of Keagan's abdomen, angling and twisting it so it tore the young man's heart muscle to shreds. He relished the look of betrayal that fleeted through his prey's eyes as the satisfying warm fount opened over his fist and the life poured from him in a hot, wet rush.

Maul called over two of the Sith gang members and said, "Take him back with you now. I will deal with the old man. Remember, he is to be alive." Then turned to face his opponent, who was currently grappling with a man half his age and twice his bulk and Jinn had the upper hand. Perhaps this would be fun after all.

Quentin had been surprised as anyone when the young Sith appeared on the scene and started to attack the Jedi. Seeing this as his opportunity, he tried to make a dash for the walkway and to Ben, but was halted when a large, mean-looking boy loomed up before him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Maul stab Keagan and start to send Ben away with two of his cronies, before a meaty fist brought his full attention to the task at hand. He had not been ready for the blow to his solar plexus and the wind rushed out of him, causing him to gasp. He recovered enough to dodge the next punch and deliver a stunning right jab to the young man's nose. An attack that would have felled a lesser man, only served to enrage the hulk before him. With the mindlessness of a bull in a rage the goliath of a young man charged at Quentin, who was now ready to face his adversary head on.

Using the young man's own weight and momentum as leverage, Quentin easily ducked far enough down to grab him around the thighs and flip him onto his back, then straddled his chest to deliver another crippling blow to the side of his head with both fists. A shadow cast from the street lamp overhead made Quentin look up and he saw the young man who stabbed Keagan standing next to him. "Enough," whispered the bald-headed youth. "The old man is mine."

The young man below Quentin, who had appeared to be getting ready to try and overpower him, just nodded and shifted his weight, spilling Quentin onto his side. Quentin lay there panting for a moment before the cold voice spoke again, "Get up old man. I want a little sport before I watch you die."

"I would say then, that's incentive for me to lie here for a while then," Quentin said without humour until a kick to his side sent bright sparks of pain through his body.

"Make no mistake. I will kill you either way, but how you perform now will determine what I do to him, you little lover over there. You see, I hurt people. It's what I am good at and I really love my work. If I am not satisfied with you, then perhaps after you're gone, I will exercise that need a bit more on him."

Quentin closed his eyes as he felt fury fill him at the young man's words. Maul knelt down and whispered directly in his ear, "He screams so prettily, but then, you know that. But have you heard him beg for mercy? Cry out in pain, hoping to be delivered? I bet not. It is a most powerful aphrodisiac. I wonder what sound he will make and what cries will be wrung from him when I take him unprepared? When I thrust myself into his very being? And who will hear those cries then?"

Quentin started to tremble with anger at the words and let out a roar of wrath as he viciously elbowed the sinister young man in the chest. Some part of him still tried to maintain balance and focus. He would not be able to anticipate his opponent's movements if he allowed himself to be blinded by anger and hate, but the thought of this vile creature violating Ben was overpowering and he attacked.

Maul had been temporarily thrown by the power behind the assault, but quickly recovered. Yes, this was what he needed. Power, rage… He would win this fight and as the old man died on his knife, he would let him know it changed nothing. He would also have his precious lover.

All around them the melee of the battle continued, but they stood out in stark contrast against the others. Falling into a deadly dance where only one would walk away.

Ben fought to keep things in focus as he watched the fight progress around him. He barely felt the young men pulling him away from the churning, muted crowd. He looked over his shoulder and there as clear as day, he saw Quentin and that creature Maul locked in lethal combat. Quentin seemed to dance around his opponent weaving around punches. It seemed to him as if he was seeing Quentin but at the same time, not. The scene was too familiar to him. He had seen this before and a dread filled his heart. Ben tried to clear his vision, but still he saw Quentin as if swathed in light fabrics. It wasn't real… He felt sorrow inexplicably fill him. He had not waited again. He had pressed ahead, he was a good fighter but his strength could not hold out forever. "Why can't you ever just wait for me? You impulsive fool?"

Ben gasped, and just as the thought flickered to him so it was gone like a wisp of a dream. It was all moving too fast. Cream, tan, brown swirling and pulling him into its eddy. Cold metal. The hum of machinery. Panic. Loss. Sorrow.

Bright arcs of light swirl and clash together. Green. Red. Heat. Exhaustion.

The image faded as Ben felt warm hands work their way up his arm and then suddenly his hands were free. The blurred image of a dark skinned man swam before him. "You're free, help him!" came the harsh whisper as he felt the hilt of a knife pressed to his palm.

Mace had been working slowly at his bonds for several days now and had finally freed himself. Just in time to free Ben from the two Sith taking him away in order to send him into the foray to help Jinn. In the shadow of the room he had seen Ben withstand the most terrible mental torture that proved his bravery. He truly loved the old bastard and perhaps would be able to find the strength in himself to save him.

Mace had other things to attend to first, as he saw Yoda trying to use the diversion of the battle to escape. Hauling his distorted form onto one of the bikes. Mace raced toward the little troll, and managed to knock him free of the motorcycle.

"Mace, knew not of this I did… Help an old friend you will now?" the old man pleaded with him.

Any pity and loyalty he might have felt toward the leader of the Jedi had now long dissolved. He smiled widely. Killing Yoda would be a favour to them all.

Ben clutched the knife in his hands desperately and he staggered toward where Maul was still fighting with Quentin. The older man was exhausted and starting to falter and Maul was quickly picking out his weak points and capitalising on them. Black. Red. Anger.

Ben started at a determined sprint toward the two forms locked in their dance on razor's edge under the lamplight. Ben saw Maul pull something from his belt loop. Just as he registered the glint of cold metal, it disappeared and Quentin fell to his knees, clutching his stomach.

"No!" the cry issued forth from Ben's mouth before he could stop it. No one stopped to look at him or even acknowledge he said it. Except for eyes alight with hatred and anger that turned toward him and focussed their amber glow.

Ben looked at Quentin lying in the snow then back to the menace before him. Anger, hate and fear coursed through his veins, causing a dull roar to resound in his head, all his attention focussed on his target.

With a snarl he rushed forward trying to jab Maul with the knife he brandished. Maul quickly moved out of the way and slashed out at Ben's arm, opening a long thin wound and pulling a gasp from the young man.

Maul snickered as Ben, wheeled around on him and stabbed out blindly. The snicker died and the warm gush over Ben's hand told him he hit true. His opponent was down. Ben twisted the knife and looked long into the hated eyes as the light drained from them. His hand sprang free of the hilt of the knife as if the spell holding it there was broken.

The cold, harsh light of the winter dawn started to illuminate the ground with is grey light. Ben could see the dark figure of his lover in sharp contrast against the pristine snow. A slow red river was escaping from beneath him. Without a sound, Ben dropped to his knees and turned the older man. He scooped the unnaturally light form of his lover to him. A light dusting of snow started to fall from the pre-dawn sky and the stillness of Ben's world was shattered as sirens sounded out in the distance and surviving gang members from both groups fled the scene in a roar of motorcycle engines.

"Somebody! Please! Help me!" Ben cried out, his voice shrill in desperation. "He's dying… you can't let him die like this." He leaned over the body of his lover and nuzzled into his neck. Hot, wet tears splashing onto the skin.

"Please..." Ben's voice dropped to a whisper, speaking only to Quentin, "You can't die. Not like this. Not now. You promised to love me forever. This was not forever, Quentin." He desperately pressed a hand to Quentin's would, trying to slow the bleeding., but it was still managing to escape from under his flesh in a warm, sticky stream.

As Ben looked down a sickening feeling of dread enveloped him. Quentin's breath was starting to come in short and roughened gasps. "Please, please... no." Ben slumped forward onto the prone form of his lover, his body wracked in a spasm of emotional pain he had never felt before. "Quentin, I love you please. Keep breathing."

"For God's sake!" Ben cried, his voice already raw from the hurt and cold, "Please help me! You can't let him die... I just found him. It's not fair!"

Quentin's soft voice interrupted him, "Ben, I am so sorry, I seemed to have bled a bit on your lovely white blanket. I will have it replaced." He made a vague gesture at the snow-covered ground around him where an expanding stain of angry red seeped into the pristine white of the snow.

"Shhhhh, Quentin you need to keep quiet and conserve your energy for me so you can get better," Ben softly kissed his lover's mouth and held his body even closer, trying his best to will the faltering heart to keep pumping.

A wet cough wracked Quentin and a thin trail of blood seeped from the corner of his mouth only to be gently kissed away. "Really, Ben, you are going on over just a leg wound. I think I will be okay really. I feel much better. I was so cold before and it's not cold anymore. What's wrong?"

Ben felt the body start to go lax in his arms and he frantically pressed his hand more firmly against the wound that spilled his love's life out of him in slow sickening waves. Quentin's body was losing heat and felt cool against his cheek. Ben no longer noticed the biting chill as he held Quentin to him. Listening to the breath that was now laboured and rattling in his ears, he let out another sob as he whispered, "Please. Don't go."

"I will be here, Ben." Quentin felt all the pain dissolve from his body and his vision fade. There was nothing wrong, he didn't hurt and it wasn't cold. Why was Ben still crying?

The warm hue of the sunset played against the underside of the downy clouds, casting the top most parts in a light grey and painting the underside a delicate coral. A single tree stood at the top of the hill before him, a light breeze whispering through the long grass causing it to wave lazily. The tree itself, although not tall, was old and gnarled and seemed strangely lopsided, as centuries of the wind had formed it.

A young man sat under the tree, his back against it and eyes closed as if patiently waiting for someone. Something inside Quentin told him that it was him the young man was waiting for and as soon as Quentin put one booted foot on to the hill to begin his climb, the young man stood and waved to him as if he were an old friend back after a long absence.

There was something altogether alien and familiar about him, the fading sun decorated his hair the colour of fire and blue-grey eyes regarded him solemnly. It was only when he reached the top of the hill, he recognised Ben. His Ben, bare-skinned but clothed in light. He reached out and embraced the young man, who looked at him with eyes that spoke of longing and sadness.

Quentin looked around him and saw that below the hill lay a field of high stalks of grain, tinted the same colour as his Ben's hair, that swayed in slow waves. There were two paths still discernable in the sun's diminished light. One flat, wide and smooth and leading to the sun and the other was rough and stoney and seemed to be shrouded in shadow.

"Where are we?" he asked as Ben pulled away from him and walked to the summit's edge.

"Don't you recognise it? You brought me here once long ago. You said it was your favourite place in all the galaxy, because the grain in the field against the sky reminded you of me." Ben said, hugging himself as if to stave off a sudden chill.

"I think you might be mistaken. I have never been here before."

"Perhaps not… have we changed so much then?"

"Changed? How? I don't understand."

"Then it is not for you to understand yet, but this will not delay your choice."

Quentin stared long and hard at the pale figure of his lover who seemed intent on the fading sun before him. "Quickly, your time is almost up, you must choose a path," the young man's voice took on a stern edge of impatience.

"Then I must choose one of those two paths? Seems only a fool would choose the rocky, shadowed path," Quentin fought to keep his voice even and not show any of the frustration that Ben's enigmatic speech.

His lover chuckled mirthlessly, " Sometimes facing hardships is a choice we make if the goal is worthy enough. But it is bearable if you focus on the here and now. Dwelling too much on what might lie ahead will always cloud your judgement."

"Who ever told you something like that?" Quentin demanded, his patience failing in the face of this little game.

"You did, long ago when you first brought me here. But it is almost nightfall, you must choose now!"

Quentin felt the pull of the easy, gentle path toward the sun. He thought maybe he knew where it went or that he had been down it before. Ben turned one last time and looked at him with the same expression of hopelessness and sorrow. As the last rays of light tripped up through the field, he faded from sight.

Quentin choked back a cry and rushed toward where the young man had been standing only moments before. Ben's words ringing in his ears, Quentin finally ran down the hill onto the treacherous path just as the sun sank out of sight and plunged the world into darkness.

The first thing he noticed was light. It was a dim light, but getting stronger. Then there was pain. Every time he breathed in, it was if a hundred little razors were being driven through his stomach. The steady hum and click of some sort of machinery filled his ears, as they seemed to come back into focus. He opened his eyes slowly, the low throbbing in his head and the lights above him making it impossible to do more than squint.

He turned his head slightly and tried to bring the room into focus. The walls were white and as his eyes adjusted he realised the lights were actually quite dim. The beeping and hum of machines around him let him know he was alive. He was scanning the area slowly, when his eyes alit on the tawny haired figure sleeping slumped over in a chair, next to the bed. Even the slight bruises still apparent on the young man's face were a sight for sore eyes.

Quentin tried to say something, but a thick tube down his throat impeded his voice. It didn't matter, even his slight stirring caused Ben to wake up with a jolt and rush toward the bed and grasp his hand.

"I never thought you would choose to come back to me…" he said as he kissed Quentin's hand. "Welcome back, love." Quentin caressed the tears off the young man's cheek just as the nurses arrived. For better or for worse, he was alive and with Ben.

"I will keep my promise to you, my own," he thought as sleep overtook him.

The sun seemed almost hesitant as it slowly pushed its way through the light fabric curtains of the bedroom window. It danced for a while at the sill before tripping into the room and spilling up over the end of the bed, illuminating the soft, white eiderdown with its cheery morning brilliance.

Quentin screwed his eyes shut trying to block out the yellow rays and capture a few more precious minutes of sleep. Now that he was out of the sterile hospital bed and back in the inviting comfort of the bed he shared with Ben, he was always bereft to leave it, preferring to put off the inevitable as long as possible.

He rolled on to his side and heard the disgruntled groan of one of the dogs as he disturbed their carefree sleep with his movement. As his arm fell across the bed he startled awake. Once again, the spot next to him was empty and cold, the pillow almost untouched. Ben had left again. He had no idea what time the young man had vacated the bed, but he had not stayed long.

Scowling slightly, he leaned up onto one elbow and looked over the empty space next to him, over the almost wrinkle-free sheets to Ben's bedside table. The alarm clock sat under the lamp, unarmed, ticking away the minutes to itself, like it had every morning since he'd been released from the hospital and allowed to return home with Ben. His scowl deepened. How long had it been? At least a month now, since he was out and could verify. How long before he was out of the hospital? He could only conclude the entire time.

The half-drunk tumbler of water caught the early morning light and made it frolic against the etched surface of the glass, casting it into a myriad of little points of brilliance. Behind it, the prescription labels of the rust-coloured pill bottles were obscured into a hazy nothingness, but he knew what they were. Diazepam and diphenhydramine, anxiety and insomnia, these were the new constants in Ben's life.

He had not been home long, perhaps five weeks, but it was long enough to notice the changes in the young man. Some were subtle, like a slight, involuntary flinch at a caress or touch, and then there was the obvious things; the ones that no one could ignore.

He had been woken too often by Ben's indistinct shouts at an invisible adversary and screams at phantom torments. Waking in the morning to an empty bed and finding him passed out on the chesterfield. Usually with a bottle, whose contents had long before been drained, still clutched tightly in one hand.

It had been two and a half months since the events at the motel. Two and a half months since he was stabbed and brought to the hospital with a deep wound to his abdomen. Since he underwent surgery that would close the injury to his stomach and save his life.

He didn't remember much of that or the time directly after. Mostly fading in and out of consciousness and odd dreams brought on by painkillers. But he did remember that Ben featured in both his dreams and reality then. Hovering near, like a skittish animal, and fading into nothingness at a mere touch. In his heart he never felt closer to the young man. But also felt that he was in danger of losing him.

Quentin shut his eyes again, trying to will the feeling away, but still it persisted; causing his chest to constrict and bile to burn a path up from his stomach. He loved Ben, but felt helpless as to what to do to try and reach him.

The young man had certainly never been a chatter, but now he had all but ceased to talk. If he did speak, his sentences were usually short and terse, revealing none of the humour Quentin had grown to love. The only time he did speak at length was to give excuses, and he did seem to take care to make those as creative as possible… and frequently.

The bright sunlight of the day and the call of nature eventually conspired to get Quentin to vacate the comfort of the warm bed. He slipped from under the eiderdown and gingerly picked his way through the minefield of laundry that had recently taken permanent residence on the once immaculate bedroom floor.

He walked quietly to the bathroom, trying not to wake Ben, wherever his nightly meanderings had taken him this time. When he came back out, Tavi and Nanuk were up and waiting for him, just next to the back door, to let them out. Only small whines from the dogs greeted him as he approached them.

He opened the door and there was a flurry of claws against the floor as they scrabbled to reach the outside, but they did not start yipping and playing until almost at the back of the yard. He watched them chasing each other through the new snowfall for a moment, his hand shading his eyes from the sun's intensity. In contrast to the interior, where most of the curtains were drawn shut, it was almost unbearable.

He leaned against the doorjamb and watched the two dogs play together out in the yard. It was as if that as soon as the sunlight touched them, all the cares and caution they wore like a muzzle in the house melted away and they dashed back and forth over the snow banks.

They leapt up, landing their forepaws heavily onto each other's backs while running side by side through the drifts. Inviting a game of wrestling. Trying to knock the other one down, in a flurry of brindled and tan fur. Happy barks when they succeeded.

He watched for a while, framed in the door. The day was not overly cold and it felt good to feel the breeze against his bare chest. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back a little toward the sun.

"I'm not made of money, y'know." The soft voice made him jump and he turned just in time to see Ben moving back to the shadows of the living room. Away from the light.

He sighed to himself and shut the door again, closing out the fresh air which had started to blow out some of the closed up smell that had settled over the house. He waited for his eyes to readjust to the gloom before following Ben into the living room. Otherwise he was liable to trip over one of the piles of refuse the young man seemed to be so intent on building. There had to be some way of snapping him out of whatever it was that had such a stranglehold over all his mind now.

When Quentin entered the living room, he picked his way gingerly over to the chesterfield and sat on it. Ben was curled up at one end, knees up under his chin, staring through a crack in the drapes. Peeking into the outside world. He moved a little closer and put a hand on the young man's shoulder. He felt the young man shiver under the gentle touch, but this time he did not pull away fully. "Ben?" His voice trailed off. He didn't know what to say past that. What did anyone say in cases like this? Sorry for ruining your life?

But he wasn't sorry he'd met Ben.

Ben didn't turn to face him, didn't make any move that acknowledged he was even there. Just kept staring forward into that narrow shaft of light like he was mesmerised by the patterns the dust motes were making in the air as they swirled and danced by. Suddenly lit then just as suddenly being plunged back into shadow again.

"Mmmm?" The sound was small in indistinct. Distant. Like he was being acknowledged from a place far from here.

"Ben? Would you care to go for a walk today? Take the dogs? It's beautiful out." He used his softest and most placating tone, moving further out on the seat of the couch to get a better look at his young lover.

Ben's face was pale and drawn, he'd not been eating recently. His eyes had thick, dark rings about them, making them appear sunken. For one horrible moment, Quentin felt like he was looking at a death masque and not at a living being at all. But this illusion was broken when the young man shifted his eyes slowly. Making it appear to be a daunting task just to do that much. But the eyes themselves were just as clear and bright as ever. But there was something different about them. something he couldn't place. "No... You go. I'm good here."

"Ben. You've not been out of this house in well on a month. It would be good for you to get out. Shake loose the cobwebs. Get some sun before you forget what it looks like." He tried keeping his tone neutral and soft, just barely touching his lover's back when he wanted nothing more than to pull the younger man against him and devour him with hungry kisses. Make him let go of whatever damned nightmare it was he was insisting on living in. Or at least share it with him. Let him in to what he was guarding so jealously.

Ben made no further response to him. The room was still. Even their breathing seemed to get swallowed up into this crypt for the living. Had it only been a few months ago that it had been filled with ambient light?

He couldn't remember.

That was it. He'd had enough.

He got up from the couch and dragged Ben up by the arm. "I think maybe you are going for that walk after all."

Ben made a noise between a yelp and a snort and pulled against his grip, but he'd held men much larger than him captive in much the same way. He tightened his grip, wincing a little on the inside, knowing it would leave bruises later. But if this at all helped the person he loved more than anyone, then it was worth it.

Ben, for all his inactivity before fought against him like a wildcat. Twisting and trying his best to pry loose the grip. He led the young man out of the living room and toward the bathroom, by then Ben was practically sitting on the floor and shrieking like he'd gone mad.

He thrust the smaller man, fully clothed, into the shower and turned the knob, dousing him with warm water. "First a shower, Ben. You're beginning to smell like a corpse."

He only started to loosen his grip on Ben's arm when the younger man stopped gyrating and bucking wildly and slid down into the bathtub, resting his head on his knees. There was a real pathos to the site of the slender young man curled into a ball on the white porcelain. His bare feet gripped by the no slip flower decals at the bottom of the tub. Any anger and frustration he was beginning to feel toward the young man bled away for the time.

He gently started removing his lover's clothes, trying to keep an almost clinical detachment to the process, but it was difficult. It had been a long time since he'd be able to run his hands over Ben's skin.

Feel him shiver in an entirely different way.

He saw Ben raise his head enough to look him in the eyes. "Why are you still here?" He asked, his voice sounding defeated.

"Because I'm an idiot. I fell in love and oddly thought that leaving him in his time of need would be unforgivable."

Wet fabric slapped against the tub's basin as he pulled the shirt free and dropped it. More gently still he manoeuvred Ben around to get his jeans off. Before he realised they weren't the young man's at all. He'd rolled them up several times, but the tear in the leg was unmistakeable. These were the jeans he'd been wearing when he first came to Ben for help. A place to hide. Something about what this quietly said filled his heart with hope for the first time in a while. He smiled gently and smoothed down Ben's russet hair before running his thumb over the young man's cheekbone.

Ben's skin coloured a little, whether due to the water coursing over him or the silent discovery, he couldn't be sure. "I dream at night I was too late and you died..."

"It's just a dream, Ben. You weren't too late and I am living proof of that." He picked up one of Ben's soft washcloths and ran it under the water before grabbing the soap and lathering it up a little.

Ben had pressed his mouth into a hard line like he did when he was pondering something or making an argument, but his eyes held no anger. They just had that strange, faraway look.

When Quentin lifted up one of his arms and started to wash it for him he looked back up to meet his eyes. "But it feels so real... you are there and I can't get to you. It's more like I remember it then dream it."

Quentin sighed and watched the somewhat filthy lather rinse from the young man's skin and down the drain. "Sometimes dreams feel very real Ben... especially after something traumatic but dreams fade..."

"Please don't say it... " Quentin swallowed what he was going to say next, just wishing he had something to offer up to the young man in the way of wisdom or comfort. But there was nothing to say. He couldn't even say he knew what it felt like without it probably sounding trite to Ben.

The silent moments stretched uncomfortably on, the only sounds filling the small room were the pattering of the shower water against the basin of the tub and the sweep of the cloth over Ben's skin. For his part, the young man sat curled again, knees up under his chin. But the look in his eyes was never forlorn or angry, just far away. Like there was some great puzzle he was trying to figure out.

Quentin continued to run the cloth over Ban's shoulders and chest, not noticing at first that his movements had taken on a less clinical air. His fingers slipping out from under the cloth to brush bare skin.

Ben looked up at him, his sea water eyes fathomless. He'd seen them before. Somewhere else. Gentle as a moth's wing the memory tickled against his consciousness. He leaned in, water splattering over his back and coursing forward over his shoulders and pressed his lips to the young man's. He heard his lover gasp a little through his nose and felt him stiffen, before he relaxed and his mouth became more pliant and inviting.

Quentin was ignoring the splatter of water over his shirt as he leaned further into the tub. He was too quickly becoming intoxicated by the small sounds Ben was making and the feeling of his mouth. So very warm and alive.

It wasn't until the young man began to pummel on his back and push him away that he snapped back into this reality and broke the kiss, sitting back and looking at Ben. His heart was contracting painfully and he felt a little nauseated, his mind reeling with the dull thud of being rejected.

Ben's chest was heaving and his skin was flushed red. The trembling had become more pronounced, marked by the way his hands, now clenched into fists, beat rapidly against the tub. Pale eyes had gone dark and dangerous and a hint of white teeth were exposed in the snarl. "What did you think you were doing?" Ben asked, his voice almost falsetto'ed with the shaking of his body.

The pounding in Ben's head only seemed to worsen as he looked up at Quentin through the streaming water. So many emotions were running through his head all at once, he wanted to simultaneously leap into the other man's arms and make him help him get rid of the images that plagued him. The cold look in his captor's eyes. The inhuman fire.

Watching that fire seep out slowly with the blood that had run over his hands when he'd shoved the knife into the young man. Then there was the anger. Anger that Quentin had dared come into his life and put him in that position, ever. Upsetting his whole life. Because nothing would ever be the same again. He'd been angry and killed someone. Nothing could fix that. And that anger smouldered beneath the surface, springing to life now. "You had no right to do that..."

"I had every right to do that." Quentin stood his ground, one hand gripping the side of the tub. "Or have you forgotten?"

So many angry things swelled up in him, he thought he might burst. But he swallowed them back down again, like he'd been doing since Quentin made it out of the hospital. He tried to remember how relieved he felt when he found out the other man would live, but it was being too swallowed up by feelings of resentment he couldn't even pinpoint. Old resentment that now dogged him like a ghost. Slipping away into the ether when he tried to locate its source. "I don't forget anything, Quentin. Even things I probably should." His voice was soft, even to his own ears. Now Quentin pulled back like he'd been stung. "I see. Had to join the world and resenting it, huh?" He opened his mouth to answer, but then thought better of it. He didn't need to add even more to the anger between them. It was silly. Childish. He should be celebrating that the other man still lived, not dwelling in this dark place he'd found.

"I'm sorry... That was uncalled for." He still didn't look up at Quentin; instead he uncurled from his corner of the tub and started to get up, not that he particularly had any plan in mind for after he managed to escape the shower. "So is the way you smell. Clean up." Quentin tossed the washcloth at him and stood, knees creaking.

He watched as Quentin took off his sodden shirt and threw it in a pile of laundry before he walked out of the bathroom slamming the door behind him.

Ben scrubbed the cloth disinterestedly over his skin at first, feeling a little petulant and not wanting to follow a direct order, but feeling compelled. He added more soap to the cloth and scrubbed harder, making his skin turn pink. He scrubbed over the still-red scars on his skin the hardest, as if trying to erase them.

But they already made their home there, tattooing him with their memories. Scars from captivity and battle. The same scars he saw in his dreams every night. Unwanted but oddly completing him. Like he'd been unfinished before. A blank canvas. Finally he dropped the cloth into the tub's basin and turned off the water. Grabbing his bathrobe from the back of the door, he wrapped himself in it and walked out of the room.

The bedroom was empty, though clothes laid out on the bed showed Quentin had been there. The front door slammed and he could hear Quentin's heavy stride on the steps.

Suddenly feeling a bit panicked Ben sprinted to the front door and opened it, seeing Quentin heading out to the street. "Quentin, wait. Please."

He followed him down the steps paying little attention to the cold, only wrapping the thick robe around him a bit tighter.

"Get inside, Ben." Quentin's voice was low and rough. "It's pretty clear we're done. Go back to your house and your dogs and your quiet life. Maybe if you hide long enough it will get better."

He felt like he'd been dealt a physical blow, but managed to re-gather his wits enough to stare evenly at Quentin. "It's all about you again, isn't it? As long as the whole world is ready to revolve around you, it's all good. But the minute things have shifted, or heaven forefend, I should need a bit of time to sort things out in my head for once, you just say that it's over and that's it. Discussion over."

"A bit of time?" Quentin turned and looked him, his voice deadly. "A bit of time. It's been months and you're just dying in that house. Sit in the corner and chew over your memories until they swallow you up into darkness and I'm supposed to watch.

"I don't know what else to do, Ben. My librarian-scholar. I've waited and watched and tried." Quentin's hand rose and almost touched the hem of his sleeve before falling away again. "I'm sorry I'm not what you need to heal."

He was about to say that the other man was what he needed to heal, but they would both know that was a lie. He didn't know what he needed, if he did he'd have found it by now and been done with it.

"I didn't mean for any of this to happen this way. I thought when they said you'd live that would be enough to keep me happy for the rest of my life." He put his hand over where Quentin had been stabbed.

"Such is the simple joy of the hospital waiting room." Quentin covered Ben's hand with his own. "Life is what it is. I won't stop loving you but I can't sit and watch you die like this. You won't let me help so maybe if I go, you'll help yourself."

"Perhaps I will this time, yes." He looked up at Quentin and tried to smile, even though his heart was pounding in his chest and he was afraid at any moment he'd start begging Quentin to stay with him. He leaned up and kissed the taller man gently at first, holding him close.

Quentin's thick hand wound itself into his hair and the kiss grew powerful. When it ended Quentin changed his touch into a caress along Ben's jaw before stepping back. "I'll see you around."

He leaned into the caress, holding Quentin's hand to his cheek for a moment longer. "Please don't go..." He whispered it into Quentin's palm before releasing his hand. But he knew it was most likely too late. He'd saved him this time, but to what end? Some things just might not be meant to be.

"Not going forever," Quentin whispered roughly. "How about I come back in a few months and see you? Check up on the dogs. Stuff."

It was a lie they could both live with. Quentin wouldn't look back and he'd not anticipate the visit. Lives could go back to the way they were, separate, uninterrupted.

"I'd like that very much. Remember that I'll always love you and take care of yourself." He stepped back from the other man and hugged himself against the cold. His feet were aching and so was his heart.

There was something flickering at the back of the taller man's eyes, something that faded away as they looked at each other. Quentin broke the stare first, looking downwards. "Would you get the hell inside before you catch a cold!" He turned away and started up the sidewalk at a good clip, boot heels ringing. He'd only gone a dozen steps when he looked back. That something was back in his eyes. All Ben needed to do was say or offer anything and his lover would stay.

The choice might have been rash, it might have been stupid. He wasn't sure, but he did know it was the first decision he ever made on the spur of the moment. They would both be in danger if Quentin left. The oily darkness that had been in his periphery since he was taken by Maul seemed to grow and consume as Quentin left.

It wanted him gone.

On instinct he ran to the older man. "Qui, don't leave."

Blessedly warm arms wrapped around him. "I won't, Obi." The words were instinctive, mumbled into his ear as they hugged there in the middle of the freezing cold sidewalk. "I won't."

Ben buried his face against Quentin's shoulder, the hollow there still feeling the perfect shape for him. As if all of the larger man was made solely for him. He heard the barely whispered name and how it also seemed to be just built for him alone.

It had been far too long since he'd heard it.

But the warm feeling were slowly being interrupted by the ache now travelling as high as his knees. "I would love to continue this, but I think my ankles have gone numb."

"I'd say you were an idiot for following me out here but..." Quentin's smile was crooked. "Let's go back in and you finish your shower up with a hot bath."

He chuckled a little and leaned against his lover as he hobbled back toward the house. "And you can check and make sure Tavi and Nanuk haven't managed to pull apart the backyard."

The warmth of the house welcomed them back in, like a womb it felt safe and comforting to him. He could feel the call of just going back to the bed and curling up in it. "We need to leave for a bit."

"Sure. You could use the air, take the boys out for a walk." Quentin chivvied him upstairs to the bathroom.

He put the plug in the tub and started running a hot bath before peeling off the robe again, rubbing circulation back into his chilled arms. "That would be a good start, yes."

Quentin settled on the edge of the commode. "You have something bigger in mind? Go for a ride on my bike perhaps?"

He stepped gingerly into the water, hissing as the heat of it stung his numbed feet and ankles. He swirled his feet around, trying to alleviate some of the hurt before sitting. "I'm not sure yet," he said through clenched teeth. "I think I will know when we get there."

Quentin raised an eyebrow but only handed over a clean washcloth and kicking the door shut so the heat would stay in the room.

He took the washcloth and gently lay down in the steaming water, his skin turning rosy as the heat enveloped it. He watched his lover closely for any sign on him perhaps sharing what had been on his mind. Ben reached out over the side of the tub and took his lover's hand. "But I do want you there."

His lover nodded and squeezed his fingers a little. "You asked me back, you're stuck with me now."

He laughed, suddenly and loudly, causing Quentin to jump. He brought his lover's large, calloused hand to his mouth and kissed his fingers. "That is quite the threat. Make sure you are ready to carry it out."

Quentin nodded, startled and then his smile turned wolfish. "Don't tempt me, Ben."

He smiled back at his lover, toying between pushing it further and wondering if he was ready. "Quentin, me in a parka and mukluks is a temptation to you."

"So what do you think being naked and almost clean in a tub of hot water is doing for me?" Quentin growled and stood, his jeans stretched around an unmistakable bulge. "I'm gonna go check on the dogs and make something hot to drink. You finish and I'll meet you downstairs when you're ready."

He nodded at Quentin and settled further under the water; half wishing he could match it with his own arousal. It had been a long time, but he didn't think he was ready for it after all. "That sounds good. I will be down soon. If Mrs. Flynn calls from the library, could you tell her I am still ill?"

"Of course. Maybe we could tell her you're going on leave?" Quentin sounded so hopeful.

He smiled at his lover and nodded, slipping a little further under the surface of the water. "Yes, that sounds about right. Then we can take the time we need to rebuild."

"Fair enough." Quentin gave him a broad, bright smile and closed the door with a rather more forceful than it needed to be slam. The echo of his whistling carried through the house as he went down the stairs like the herd of elephants he occasionally was.

Ben smiled and dipped himself below the water, hearing the muffled sound of a whistle from the back door to call the dogs in and the clattering into the kitchen as they surely shot through the door at breakneck speed to see if it was time for treats.

He sat back up and grabbed the shampoo next to the tub to finally clean his hair.

Soon enough he was scrubbed pink, shaved and sitting in the kitchen across the table from his lover. He sipped the strong coffee in front of him. "If I don't get a haircut soon, by the time we get back I will be right shaggy."

"It's a good look for you. Not so...restrained." Quentin sipped at his own coffee.

"One of us has to be." He quipped back, completely deadpan, surprising himself. He hastily added, "But if you like it, then maybe I will grow it out a bit."

Quentin toasted him with the mug. "I do like it and I like that you're coming back out of your shell a little."

He averted his eyes and felt a blush crawl into his cheeks. "I didn't mean to shut you out..." He took a breath, as he was about to continue with that thought when a timer beeper went off. It was time to take his meds. The doctor said to keep the anxiety at bay, but he didn't much like it. It made him listless and tired. He sighed and got up from the table "I'll be back in just a moment."

"Don't take them," Quentin muttered under his breath. "You don't need them."

"We don't know that... I haven't been sleeping well." He dropped his gaze to the floor, refusing to meet his lover's eyes, the blush becoming deeper.

"Something I'm well aware of." Quentin's mug hit the table with a clatter. "I'll just sleep on the couch for a few days. Maybe that will help and you'll get past it."

He flinched at the tone in Quentin's voice but nodded his head. "It's probably for the best for now. It wasn't working well the other way."

"All you have to do is ask."

But he wasn't sure what he should be asking for. Part of him longed to be held at night when the inevitable nightmares started, but it was directly at war with the part of him that didn't really want intimate touching. Top that off with the part of him that not only wanted to be held but also was screaming to do much more than that. He kept his eyes lowered and scrubbed his foot against the floor, pulling up dust bunnies of dog hair. "I'm just scared to be with you in our bed and scared of being in there alone."

"Would wearing flannels to bed help? Speaking of which we should open that room up and air it out - unless we're going today...."

"Still will need some things before we go... decide what to do with Tavi and Nanuk. So probably should air out the room then and make plans to go downtown tomorrow."

"I made a few calls and there is a sidecar available if you wanted to take the dogs with you. Could take a second bike too, let you have your freedom." The last word was said softly, Quentin's eyes fixed on the window.

"I do want to be with you." He said firmly. "One bike is fine. I'm not looking to ditch you on the road and go off alone."

He finally looked up at Quentin and noticed just how tired, no, worn out he looked. Dark rings painted under his eyes and his skin seemed paler, older somehow. "I know it hasn't been easy for you either. If you still wanted to leave, I can't stop you and won't hold it against you."

"Damnit Ben!" Quentin slapped his hands against the table. "I told you I'm with you for as long as you'll have me. Do I need to write it in blood--. Aw, shit I'm sorry. Shouldn't have said that."

"You did write it in blood. You almost got yourself killed trying to rescue me. Have you any idea how..." Ben snapped his mouth shut. He was about to tell Quentin about the guilt he felt at that. That in his nightmares he was running toward him, trying to help him, but he wasn't fast enough. How many different scenarios played over in his head on feeling him die in his arms. Watching life slip away and there was nothing he could do about it.

"Yes, I have some idea," Quentin snarled. "You aren't the only one who has failed in this world."

He was trying to keep his anger in check; it would do no good to blow up at his lover at this stage. "I don't want to fight with you, Quentin. You haven't failed."

"Go to the graveyard and tell it to Xan then." Quentin stood. "I'm going to go pack for our trip."

This took Ben back a peg.. He followed Quentin down to the bedroom and stood in the doorway ghosting the room. "What happened to him?" he asked softly.

"Let's just say while you made it in time, I didn't." Quentin rubbed at his eyes and then fixed Ben with a steady look. "I meant it when I said you weren't the only one with ghosts, Ben."

"I never thought... I'm sorry. Did you love him?" He was half dreading the answer to that. He wasn't naive enough to think he was Quentin's first, but now that it was out between then he was not sure he wanted to hear the answer.

"Never as much as you. And in a completely different way. I was not to his taste. Never look behind you, Ben. I've now resigned myself to spending my nights watching you read and that keeps me happy."

Ben looked shocked by this revelation. "You watch me read? I always thought you were asleep, the snore was pretty convincing." He laughed then and dodged out of the way of any possible retaliation.

It didn't help, Quentin just advanced until he was trapped in a corner then pressed a hard fast kiss to his lips. "I want to see my Ben come back and that means books, all right?"

He nodded, feeling a little breathless from the kiss. "I will pick up Tristan and Iseult from the library before we go. Tell Mrs. Flynn I promise to bring it back when I return."

"Good," Quentin said huskily before backing off. "How about we go down to the cafe for dinner and then to bed early?"

He reached out and traced his fingers over his lover's chest and down to his belt. "Yes, I think that would suit me just fine. I don't feel much like cooking for once."

Quentin actually *twitched* at that touch. "Um?"

He pulled his hand back again, but slowly. The contraction of his lover's muscles under his fingers bringing back pleasant memories of nights of lost sleep, humid skin and voices cracked in emotion. He looked up at Quentin. "I hope again soon."

"Soon, later." Quentin shrugged but couldn't hide the hunger in his eyes. "It's not why I stay with you."

He gave him a wan smile, trying to keep the situation light, but feeling the answering hunger trying to re-ignite in him. "I knew it... you're just using me for my dogs."

"Actually it's the chintz curtains. Always wanted to have some." Quentin gave up on trying to have a straight face and swallowed up Ben in a hug.

He melted into the hug, burying his face against the taller man's shoulder and chuckling softly. "Then I must remember to bring them for the tent."

"Please do." Quentin's answering chuckle rumbled through his bones.

He stepped back only enough to tilt his head back to invite a kiss. It felt almost like worship, gentle and soft before Quentin pulled back, looking down at him.

"We need to finish packing, don't we? Then go out for dinner, before this teasing gets cruel." He said, feeling no small amount of regret at that. He'd love to just throw caution to the wind for once and just let things happen.

"It's not cruel, it's just teasing. I'm happy to see you willing to do it." Quentin rubbed his thumb over Ben's lips before giving him a smile and bouncing down the stairs. "Need to see a man about a horse, back in an hour."

He just watched Quentin leave, somewhat bemused. He'd left too quickly for him to even call a see you soon to him. Ben hefted up his bag and carried down to the kitchen.

He flipped on the ambient lights from under the cupboards as the afternoon light was starting to wane already, even though the day was still fairly young.

As soon as he opened one of the kitchen cupboards, the clicking of toenails against the floor indicated to him that the dogs had roused from wherever they'd been napping to see if there might be any food fallout.

The first night out had been an eye opener for Ben. Quite literally. He had never slept out of doors in his life and didn't ever think as to how much it would unnerve him. Every crack of a stick had him moving back against Quentin a bit more. Not that his lover was complaining about that part of it at all.

The dogs had seemed completely unaware of any possible danger and had been snoring loudly next to the small heater in the tent.

But he'd calmed since then. Tonight he was sitting out under the stars, next to the fire Quentin had built just a few hours before. The night was not too cold and the sky was so very clear. He could see layer upon layer of stars twinkling in the night sky.

"What do you see up there?" Quentin asked softly.

Ben sighed and leaned against him. "Not sure. I could never see the constellations or anything, even when I was small. Well, other than the Big Dipper. Just have never seen so many, I think. But it makes me feel as if I know where I am. Does that even make sense?"

Quentin gave him a one-armed hug. "Nah, but that's okay, most things you say don't make sense to me anyway."

Ben chuckled and slid his butt along the log they were using as a bench until his lover fell off the side of it. "Big meanie."

Quentin growled, soft and deep in his throat and then pulled Ben down on top of him. "You're in for it now, boyo."

He laughed, and tried to give the larger man an innocent look. "Wasn't my fault. I slipped."

Nanuk came over to find out what the sudden commotion was all about and started to bark. Tavi just couldn't be bothered as she opened one eye just to make sure everything was all right.

"Slipped. Uh huh." Quentin squeezed him tightly and then rolled them over so he was on top heedless of the sticks and leaves that covered the ground. "Sure that's your story?"

Ben tried to struggle against his lover, laughing now a little more shrilly than he would have liked, the foliage poking up into his back. "Yes. It was simply an accident."

Quentin got his cold fingers between the waistband of Ben's pants and the hem of his shirt, tickling him. "Very sure?"

"You are not allowed to torture prisoners according to the Geneva Convention, Quentin." Ben twisted and gasped as the chilled digits made contact with his skin. He tried to curl up to protect himself.

"What else am I supposed to do when I'm subject to your clumsiness." Quentin leaned in closer, their breath mingling.

Ben held still for a moment, fighting between wanting to stop this and push his lover away and wanting it to continue, see where it led. He leaned up and closed the gap between them, kissing Quentin gently.

Quentin froze and then relaxed into the kiss, slipping one hand up into Ben's hair before drawing back. He pulled them both upright and back onto the log. "Well."

"Well?" Ben had expected a lot of different reactions to the kiss, but 'well' really hadn't been one of them. His cheeks pinked a bit more with embarrassment.

"Sorry. I just got carried away."

Quentin chuckled at Ben's pique. "You surprised me and then I decided to try being a gentleman. Next time I'll ravish you instead."

"It's okay. For the best. The night is wearing on and it's almost time to go to sleep." He was still feeling taken down a peg and more than a little embarrassed, so he could not meet his lover's eyes yet. He focused on the fire, which was slowly burning out.

"You doubt me." Quentin was still quietly chuckling as he took Ben's cold fingers between his own and held them to his groin, proving exactly what effect his kiss had had.

He smiled a bit in spite of himself, brushing his fingers half casually over the pronounced bulge. A warmth rose in him slowly and he swallowed against a dry throat. "I see... I will try and not doubt you again."

"Good." Quentin's voice was rougher sounding than usual. "Why don't you go get in between the blankets and I'll bank the fire for the night."

He nodded, got up from the log and crawled in through the flap of the tent. He turned on the small heater they had bought and a lantern. He wasn't quite sure if he should presume things might pick up again or if they were at an end for the night and so he sat near the edge of the sleeping bag and waited as he heard Quentin putting out the fire.

Finally he heard Quentin making his way to the tent in the almost pitch darkness.

"Ben? Are you enjoying the trip?"

He nodded and shivered, clutching his arms tighter around himself as the cool air came in again with Quentin. "Yes, I am. Why?"

His companion was quick to close the tent again and strip off his coat and set it aside. "Wasn't sure and you haven't said one way or the other."

He shrugged a little and started to pull off his coat, slowly, edging further into the blankets. "I have been thinking a lot, that is all. But I am liking this."

Quentin kicked off his shoes and wriggled out of his pants then slipped in next to Ben under the covers. "Good. Just...good."

He smiled in the semi-darkness then lay down, head cradled by the insubstantial camping pillow. "Yes, it is."

He reached over and turned down the lamp even more. Over the sound of his and his lover's breathing he could hear the bare sticks of the trees rattling in the breeze, like dried bones.

Tonight something a little different happened, Quentin's arm came to rest on top of Ben, wrapping him in a loose embrace. He moved in closer to the bigger man, allowing himself to be pulled against the solid chest. He pulled back and looked up to Quentin, bringing their mouths together in a searing kiss.

Quentin's hands cupped his face, letting the kiss go on as long as they could before they had to pull back. "You keep going with this and I'm not going to stop," his would-be lover warned.

"I need you…" His voice trailed off as he pulled Quentin's shirt up.

"I think I can live with that," Quentin said softly, pulling the shirt off over his head.

He ran his hands over the older man's chest, humming his approval as he felt Quentin's nipple harden under his touch. He ran his stubbled cheek over one of the sensitive nubs then nipped ungently at the other, bringing it to a peak. He flicked his tongue over it, brigning a gasp from the bigger man above him. The sound made him feel bolder. He ran his hands slowly down Quentin's sides and under the waistband of his jeans, tuching the ultra soft skin of his hips.

"You drive me crazy," Quentin murmured, one hand resting on Ben's hair for a moment before falling to his side again.

"I love you..." He stroked his fingers from hips back, cupping Quentin's ass and pulling him forward to feel the bulge in his own trousers.

"For weeks now, I've wanted this." Quentin pressed up against him from knees to chest. "Nice to know you return the feelings."

"Always. Never doubt that." He took Quentin's mouth in another kiss, his tongue teasing and taunting that of his lover. He moaned harshly through his nose as Quentin undid the button to his torusers and worked them down off his hips.

Quentin grasped Ben's erection through his underwear, stroking it firmly.

He bucked his hips pressing his hard cock into the tunnel of his lover's large hand. He was starting to pant now and could feel the sweat beading up on him. The smell of comnined musk from inside the blankets filled his nostrils, causing his mind to release all his higher thoughts. He undid Quentin's jeans and yanked them down to just under his ass, petting him possessively. "Mine... so alive and mine..."

"Have your way with me," Quentin murmured.

"I want you to... please." He looked up at Quentin beseachingly. "In me."

Quentin nodded and stroked Ben's erection again, firmly. "Yes."

"Yesssss." He pressed his head back into the pillows, hissing between clenched teeth. He rolled Quentin off from on top of him before kicking his trousers and underpants the rest of the way off, and laying on his side. He looked back at Quenint over his shoulder. "Like this."

Another nod and then Quentin settled behind him. He draped on heavy arm over Ben's waist and kissed his shoulder.

Ben twisted his head to the side so Quentin could kiss him on the mouth. He felt the other man chuckle against his skin before his mouth was taken gently. Quentin nibbled his lips softly and in the semi dark, he heard the crinkle of the plastic wrapper. Soon enough Quentin's gelled, slicked fingers slipped between his cheeks to gently prepare him. He rode back against the invading digits making small needy sounds in his throat. Quetin took hold of his leg and pulled it up and back over his lover's hip. Then the familiar feeling of the blunt head of his lover's cock breaching him.

He gasped harshly.

"Love you," Quentin said softly before he started to thrust.

"So much... love you.." He managed to pant out, the small pain of entry being quickly replaced by the wonderfully stretched feeling around his lover's erection, the intense pleasure causing him to grimace. He pressed back against Quentin, changing the angle and the bolts of pleasure from his protate being repeatedly pounded to shoot up his spine.

"So good with you." Quentin bit down on his shoulder. "Going to make you come."

"Oh... God!" He gripped Quentin's fingers on his hip and froze, arched back against his lover and spilling his pleasure into the blankets around him.

There was a harsh grunt from behind him and Quentin pulled him back sharply and held him there. Then relaxed, kissing his shoulder and murmuring to him in a language he couldn't understand, but made him feel cherished. It banked the darkness in his subconcious, subduing the doubt for the moment.

An almost kiss to his cheek and then Quentin was relaxing against him, truly falling asleep now. He sighed and reached over, turning off the lamp. Nanuk crawled into the tent and lay down next to Tavi, near the heater. Still in the darkness, he was wide-awake with only the sounds outside and of Quentin and the dogs snoring for company.

He fought the closing of his eyelids but the warmth of the dogs and Quentin's solid weight behind him conspired against him. Deliberately he put one arm outside the blankets, the cold air nipping at his skin and raising gooseflesh. Still, the blackness of the canvas overhead met with the darkness behind his eyes and he fell asleep. At first, he just dozed, drifting aimlessly on the lanes between consciousness and dreams; but then he was drawn towards a black landmark.

The hum and clang of machinery started to build in the background. He wanted to back away and leave this place, but something was telling him he had to keep going, finish what he'd come here to do. He stepped forward a few more paces into a room, which glowed red from the open pits in the floor. There was a spider web of thin paths that criss-crossed around them.

On the other side, a young man stood, staring at him with a mixture of hate and rage.

He didn't speak, not heard over the noise of the machines but Ben could see his lips move, urging him forward, taunting him to cross the dangers and face him.

He advanced into the room. His muscles tightening, hands flexing in readiness next to his sides. He looked around for the best route across. The heat blasting at him, almost toppling him. "Anakin. Anakin, you don't have to do this. It's not too late."

His own voice sounded alien in his ears and he heard the young man laugh. "Pitiful, *master*. You fail again."

He looked to the left, the path there looked the most solid but something inside urged him to go right. A single jump would clear the worst of the spider web and then he'd be close enough to try and concentrate on Anakin again. He went right; a sensation of correctness went through him, giving him a moment of calm in this maelstrom of heat and destruction.

Even though he was not looking at Anakin with his eyes the sense of having done it before told him that the boy/monster/creature was watching him, hands on his hips and a snarling pout twisting his features.

"Always the cautious one, *master*." Turning the title into a curse.

He looked up finally into the face, which seemed so very familiar to him, even though in the part that was still Ben, he had never seen the boy before. The young man's face was a twisted mask, marring his usually handsome features.

"Anakin. Come back with me. There are still Jedi left who can help you. Turn you away from this path. Yoda himself..."

"Yoda!" The boy spat at him. "Is a twisted, old fool. You are too late again, Obi-Wan. Just like you were the day Qui-Gon died. Must be a terrible burden to be such a failure."

The only movement was a flick of the young boy's hand and suddenly a red blade flashed to life.

"I am not a failure," he murmured but he didn't believe his own words. Why should he? He reached for his belt and in a gesture that felt as natural as breathing he brought his own light sword to bear, a ghostly silver blue that made his hands tingle. A subtle hum filled the air around them, dampening the noise and leaving them in a bubble.

He faced the boy, waiting and gauging his movements. Taking the defense. He held the light sword. He tried again. He needed to. If he lost this boy, worlds would die. He knew this.

They circled each other slowly; the steel-cold blue eyes bore into him. "Anakin... There is still good in you. I feel it. Sidious has poisoned you to it."

"And what if I like it? What if to me that is more honest than the hateful - no - Fearful looks I got from those in the Order? What if I know that this is my destiny and my choice? I am the chosen one." For a moment Anakin's smile turned gentle. "What if we never had any choice at all and this is what there is?"

"There is always choice, Anakin. I have to believe that." His words sounded hollow even in his own ears. The mistake had been Qui-Gon's, taking the boy away from his mother that long ago. His master should have listened to him; the boy had always been dangerous.

His thoughts betrayed him and the boy advanced on him, bringing his light sword crashing down, he blocked it. Just. "So much for your overarching belief in me, Obi-Wan."

"There is a difference between danger and being Dark, Anakin." He had to get that a cross. "There is the tool and the intent. Do not mistake one for the other as I did."

"I mistake you for nothing but a fool, Obi-Wan Kenobi. One whose life I am going to end."

Ben summoned something deep within him and shoved the boy from him, hard. Anakin flipped easily through the air and landed back in the spider web. The young man teetered a bit and Ben held his breath until he'd steadied himself.

"Anakin, please don't so this. You can't win. We both know it."

"I don't need to win." Anakin's smile was slow. Evil. "You just need to lose."

He made his back slowly through the web, the heat lapping at him, singeing his skin. The young man walked toward him, confidently, cocky. It would be that which would be his undoing; Ben just hoped he could save them both before that.

Anakin flipped over a pit and landed casually in front of him, lights words clashed once again. Dodge, parry, and counterstrike. Arches of red and blue flashed through the air.

It felt endless, like they had been doing it for countless millennia of time. Fighting this fight and having this argument. Eternal.

Finally he felt the boy tiring. He pressed the advantage to try and back them away from the pits. Too late, he felt Anakin stumble and fall. Sliding down the edge toward the magma. He fell to his front on the path and tried to catch hold of the flailing hand, but Anakin pulled it from his grip and with a malicious smile he winked at him.

"You lose again, Obi-Wan." He slid toward the molten metal and Ben heard himself cry out. Then the whole world began to tremble under him.

"Ben... Ben... wake up."

He went from burning to freezing in a heartbeat. For a long moment he wondered if Qui-Gon was trying to tell him something - to let Anakin go but it faded. Quentin was there, holding him tightly and wrapped in the blankets. "Ben?"

"There's a boy, Quentin... He's in big trouble and he doesn't even know it yet." He curled against Quentin, holding onto him. Clutching his shirt and listening to his very real heartbeat. He pulled back a little and looked at his lover and looked into his eyes.

"Then we'll go find him." Quentin shrugged and pulled him in close again. His next words were whispered and Ben didn't think he was supposed to hear them. "Not like last time, I promise."

Ben tried to puzzle out in his head what the dream was trying to tell him, but it was starting to give him a pounding headache. These dreams always did. He lay panting against his lover's chest, trying not to re-gather his thoughts, but still they encroached on him. "Quentin... we have to go back to the motel in the morning."

"Long drive for one day but we can probably make it." Quentin's hands kept ghosting up and down his back under the blanket.

"We need to. Something is there, I can feel it." He looked up at his lover in the gloom of the pre-dawn light and gave him a small smile before lying back down and letting himself drift.

There were no dreams this time.

A few short hours later their campsite was packed up and Ben was gripping onto Quentin's hips as they rode toward the abandoned motel. Tavi and Nanuk were safe in the sidecar, watching for any signs of other motorists to bark at. The winter was finally abating, and here and there bare earth peeked through the snow. The end of winter, he mused, for himself and for the earth for another season. Quentin drove like the devil himself was on their tail, some part of the urgency Ben had felt in the night transferred to his lover and spurring them onwards. He slid in closer, holding on. He was rolling over the events of the dream the night before. There was something he had to figure out. Something was behind all of this. He needed to find out whom Maul had been hired by. There had been something different about him. Not like the rest of the gang. He was more focused. He'd taken Ben on purpose. It was too organized, too pat. Too well planned. It made his skin shiver and grip onto Quentin even tighter as they closed in on the motel.

The derelict building loomed up on the distance, crouching next to the side of the road. Waiting to pounce and swallow them whole. He felt Quentin heave a sigh in front of him. This was probably the last place his lover had ever wanted to see again.

"You have no idea how much I want to burn that place down." Quentin drove them around the outside once, a slow circle. They could both feel how the aura of the place was waiting to draw them in.

He squeezed Quentin with his knees. He knew exactly how he felt, but still couldn't shake that the old building still had some secrets to give up. But the building made him feel cold inside. He was a drawn to it as he was repulsed by it. So many memories were held in its crumbling walls.

Quentin pulled the bike up next to one of the doorways and shut it off. "I'm coming in with you."

He crawled off the back of the bike, legs still vibrating slightly after the hum of the motor, and nodded a bit at Quentin. There was still police tape barricading the doors to the rooms. He pulled it from the first and opened it, peering inside. It was partially empty, broken furniture and spray paint the major features of what had been, long ago, a decent hotel room. Fortunately for his stomach there weren't any bloodstains though the smell of stale urine was strong.

He could hear Tavi and Nanuk whimpering and clawing at the sidecar to get let out, then Quentin's voice trying to soothe them. All too soon, there was a yip of happiness as the dogs were freed and came barreling into the room, upsetting the layer of dust. They leapt onto the bed and started barking at him.

"Guys. Not now, play outside or something." He looked back to his lover in a silent plea to remove the dogs.

Quentin gave him a long look and then nodded. "Come on guys! Fetch." He tossed a chair leg out the door and the two bounded out after it. "I'll be out there if you need me."

He touched his hand to the older man's and then held it. "I need you here. I need to know who stayed in this room." He didn't want to cut Quentin out of this part, but also felt a bit like he was using his lover. Or at least his memories to fill in the spaces.

Quentin's fingers turned in his, gripping his hand tightly. "I can do that. This is the room Yoda took for himself. There is probably a lot around here to tell you about..."

Ben cut him off. "I don't think Yoda knew anything. With the mess it all turned into I just don't think that he knew of all the plan."

"If you are looking for the room Maul was using, the was probably in the one that had been mine. With Keagan. I was with you then and so it would have been available." Quentin stepped back out into the cold and pointed to one a few doors down.

He followed his lover out onto the decaying wood landing that ran past all the rooms of the motel. As Quentin pointed out the door of the room, Ben saw a shadow pass before his eyes. He shook his head, but something in that room made his heart start to beat faster and his muscles seize. It was the same feeling he got from the boy, Anakin, in his dream. But it was fluctuating and faltering. Something was causing it to weaken.

He turned to Quentin and gave the big man a gentle kiss. "I need you to understand that you can't come with me here. I have to do this alone. There is something here that I've felt before. But it seems confused and weakening at the moment."

"I understand. I've never had anything to do with this but I will be waiting for you here."

He bit his lip and fought the urge to tell Quentin he was a more key player in this than he knew, but just nodded at him and continued his way down to the door. He pulled away the tape and his hand tingled, like invisible insects were crawling over it. He dropped it to the floor and pushed the door open. The smell of stale blood and urine nearly choked him. He swallowed down on the bile that rose in his throat and entered the darkened room. The shadows behind the chairs seemed alive, moving and hiding as he approached. He looked at the place where the chair Maul tied him to had been. The carpet was still stained with his blood.

He was drawn to it. He moved closer and looked at it and as he did the stain darkened and grew, seeping under the bed. He knelt next to it then leaned down to peer under. Stuck in the wheel of the bed was a small, white card. He reached for it, wanting to pull it out when he realised he was no longer in the room alone. He looked up in time to see the shadow of the young man from his dreams. It flickered at him, going between the slim young man and a veritable giant of machinery. A rhythmic breathing, like that of a hospital ventilator. Wormed its way into his ears, making him shake and start to back away, snagging the card in his hand. The shadow advanced on him, drawing its horrible red glowing sword. He closed his eyes and ineffectually put his arm up to block the final blow, but it never came. He cracked open one eye slowly to find out what happened to his aggressor. All he saw a small boy standing in front of him. Not a man or a monster, just a boy.

The boy held out one of his hands toward Ben, above it floated the image of the Earth. As he watched, darkness crept over its surface until finally the whole world had gone dark. "You can't stop him alone. The only weakness lies in division." Then just as the shadow had appeared from nowhere, it faded again into the ether, leaving him clutching the card in his hand.

He looked down at it, then his eyes widened in disbelief. The name on the card was Dr Maxwell Palpatine. His own psychiatrist from when he was young. For a moment the boy had a knowing in his eyes and then it faded.

"Whaddya want? This is *my* place now. Get out."

He leaned in close to the boy. This was no figment of his imagination or warning. The child couldn't be more than nine or ten, but his eyes seemed so much older. "I'm Ben. Are you here all alone?"

"Duh." The boy stared back at him defiantly. "My name is Walker."

"Hi Walker. " He smiled at the child and extended his hand to him, then raised his voice a little and called out to his lover. "Quentin, I think you better come in here!"

Walker took Ben's hand and gave it a shake, still eyeing him warily. "What are you doing out here?" He asked, cocking his head to one side.

"I could ask you the same thing, Walker, this is really a long way from anything for a little boy to get to himself."

"Well, I'm not supposed to tell anyone I'm here - but you showed up so that's different."

Quentin stuck his head in and then gaped at him. "Ben?"

"Quentin... this is Walker. Walker, this is my friend, Quentin Jinn." Ben motioned for Quentin to come into the room.

His lover walked in slowly, hands in front, showing Walker he had nothing to hide, then crouched down so he was almost eye level with the boy.

Ben turned his attention back to Walker. "Where are your Mommy and Daddy, Walker?"

"Dead," the little boy spit at him, backing away into the shadows again. "Dead and rotted into the ground."

He let the boy have his space; there was no point in frightening him any more than he was. Walker seemed to be eyeing them up and deciding if he could make an escape.

"I am sorry to hear that, Walker. That is a big loss for a little boy. Quentin, Walker told me that no one is supposed to know he's here. I don't like this at all." He left out the rest of the vision that occurred right before he saw the boy.

"Walker, who brought you out here?"

"My parents brought me. Hiding me away from the bad man and didn't come back. And they're dead now, just like you will be if you stay. Go away!"

"I'm afraid we can just leave you here, Walker. You must be starving." He moved a bit closer to the boy again and he heard Quentin's knees crack a bit as he stood up from the crouch.

"I will go and find something in our packs for you to eat. Stay here with Ben, you are safe now, we won't hurt you." As his lover left the room, the two dogs came lolloping back in, stopping short to look at Walker, before walking up to sniff him.

"You have dogs?" The first non-hostile question Walker had asked. "I always wanted one."

He smiled reassuringly. "Yeah, don't worry. They are really friendly. The big stripy one is named Tavi and the smaller tan one is Nanuk. You can pet them if you want."

Walker reached out to tentatively pet at Tavi's large head as she sniffed at him, her large nose bumping into his chest. Soon he was scratching her behind the ear and getting a lopsided doggy grin in return.

Quentin returned from the bike with some of the rations they had packed, Walker's attention being diverted the moment he saw food. "I am afraid that cereal bars is about the best I could come up with that does not need to be heated, Walker. But it was them or dog food."

Walker considered that for a long moment. "Wouldn't want Tavi and Nanuk to go hungry. I'll take one of those cereal things."

Quentin wisely set the bar within reach of the child and backed away again, standing in the doorway. "Good idea, but we can warm something up later if you want."

The boy grabbed the bar and unwrapped it quickly, shoving almost the whole thing in his mouth at once. He nodded up at Quentin, and then laughed as the dogs started to nose at him for some food fallout.

"Guys... you already ate." Ben looked at then sternly and they back down, but just slightly. He stood up and walked over to the door where Quentin was standing. "Walker, can you keep the dogs busy for a moment? I have to talk to Quentin. We'll be just over here." He indicated just outside the door with his finger.

"Sure. You got another thing I can eat while I'm waiting?" Definitely some calculation in those eyes.

Quentin produced another cereal bar and a few cookies from his jacket pocket, as well as a juice box. He gave them to Walker, and then shook his finger at him a little. "Now, no feeding the dogs any of it when we aren't looking. They don't need to get any fatter."

Tavi looked up at Quentin and gave him, what Ben could swear was, a derisive snort.

The two men then walked out onto the balcony. "I don't like this Quentin... What do we do? We can't just leave him here, but I don't want to alert the authorities in case what he said is true and someone is after him."

"I could take him with me. Head out for the road while you check into what happened to his parents."

He nodded slightly, but could not shake the feeling that they were up against something truly sinister. He handed the business card to Quentin. "I think he might have something to do with it."

"I've heard of him. Big hotshot headshrinker." Quentin tapped the card against his palm. "Why the hell would his card be out here?"

"I don't know. Maybe that's who Maul was working for? But it's all pointing in a very unpleasant direction. Quentin, Dr. Palpatine was the one who 'treated' me. He was the one to recommend my parents have me committed." Ben looked up at his lover. "But maybe I am just paranoid in feeling that he has some master plan he wants to put into effect and somehow you, me and that boy all figure into it."

"Maul was gone for a while and came back different. It might have been this guy he went to see." Quentin chewed on his lip for a moment and then nodded sharply. "Not paranoia, not at all. It does mean they are out to get you, you know."

He chuckled a little, humourlessly. "And you and Walker. We should take him back with us to the house tonight while we decide what's to be done about this, in case you do have to take off with him tomorrow."

Quentin opened his mouth as if he were about to say something, but then shut it again and smiled at him. They went back into the room where Walker was now sitting on the floor between the two dogs and feeding them what was left of the cookies. He looked up at them, startled, then trying to look innocent. "I just gave them a little!"

Ben laughed and crouched down next to Walker. "It's okay. Quentin and I have finished talking and have decided it might be safest for you if you come with us tonight. I have a house in a town not far from here and we can get you cleaned up and fed and into a warm bed. How does that sound?"

Walker looked around at the torn up bed and destroyed walls. "Can I have more cookies?" Quentin nodded. "A few more, after dinner."

"Then I'll come. Can the dogs stay with me?"

He smiled and held his hand out to the boy. "Yes, they can. Will make sure you are all safe and cozy. Just don't let Tavi try and muscle you out onto the floor." He took Walker's hand and led him out to the bike, noting for the first time their dilemma. "If you ride back slow, I can give Walker my helmet and he can ride between us?"

He looked over to Quentin who was puzzling out the same problem. "He might fit between the dogs in the sidecar, but it would be a squeeze."

"Oooh. I'll ride with the dogs." Walker squirmed into the seat and wrapped his arms around Nanuk as the dog hopped into his lap.

Ben laughed. "Well, I guess that's settled." He helped Tavi pull her old rear end over the side of the car and got her settled in next to Walker, then padded them all with blanket. He put his helmet on and swung up onto the bike behind Quentin, wrapping his arms around his lover's waist to hold on.

"And we're off." Quentin fired up the bike and they headed for home.

The sun had already gone down when they arrived back at the cheery-looking little home, Ben opened the door and allowed Quentin and Walker in past him.

The boy stood hesitantly in the main room, looking like he was not quite sure what to do with himself. Ben passed him on his way over to the kitchen, turning on lights as he went. "I am just going to heat something up for dinner, Quentin, if you want to show Walker where the bathroom is. I am sure he would like to take a bath and get something else on."

Quentin gave him a look and whispered, "Something else like what?"

Ben smiled at him, and when Walker wasn't looking, gave him a kiss. "I am sure a long t-shirt with a flannel one over it will do. Until we can get what he's wearing cleaned."

"Right." Quentin gestured Walker toward the stairs. "Up that way, if you would. It's bath time."

Walker gave Quentin a dirty look as the dogs took off for the kitchen and the safety of Ben's company.

He was trying not to dwell on the events of the last day too much as he started to heat up some chicken noodle soup, but there really was an overwhelming amount of coincidences.

Why had he first seen the shadowy figure in the room? Did Walker remember anything of the presence that seemed to have hold of him as they first met? He made sandwiches to go with the soup and was relieved when he finally heard Quentin and Walker coming back from the upstairs. Walker was relating a story, his skinny, animated limbs looking almost comical as they stuck out from under the makeshift pyjamas. "And then, when I was little, I had dreams about flying in space in my own space ship!"

"I know exactly what you mean." Quentin's eyes met Ben's over Walker's head. "I've had those dreams myself."

He smiled at his lover and then brought the first of the steaming bowls of soup over to the butcher's block and set it down. "I made chicken noodle and then peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, I hope no one minds."

Walker climbed up onto the stool and eyed the soup hungrily but waited for them all to be seated. "Can I have some milk, please?"

"Of course." Quentin got out the bottle and poured them each a glass.

"And cookies for after, I'm sure."

Walker smiled at him and the large man reached over to ruffle the boy's hair. The rest of the meal passed in relative silence, all of them being hungrier than they had thought.

After he and Quentin put the dishes into the dishwasher, where Tavi was now making sure they were extra clean, he turned back to look at Walker whose head was bobbing and eyelids were drooping heavily.

"I think it's time for bed for someone." he whispered to Quentin.

"Walker, let's get you tucked into bed with the boys and we'll talk more at breakfast."

No one was more surprised than Quentin when Walker nodded and just opened his arms, allowing himself to be carried upstairs.

Quentin picked the boy up and Ben led the way, opening the door to the small guest room that was used more as extra book storage than a bedroom. Well, only had been used as book storage, no one had ever slept in the room before.

He pulled back the soft blankets and sheets, allowing his lover to settle the boy in the bed, before tucking him in gently. The dogs hopped up onto the bed and settled there with him. Walker let out a loud yawn and fought against going to sleep. "Read me a story?" the small voice beseeched from it's pillowed fortress.

He smiled and turned on the bedside lamp. "Of course. I have a book that was read to me by my grandmother when I was your age. Ben went over to the dusty heaps of books that lay about the otherwise almost painfully neat room. He scanned along the fading spines and finally pulled one of the out a stack, blowing the dust from the cover, sending up a small fibrous cloud.

Quentin sat in the wing-backed chair, legs crossed at the ankles in front of him, smiling at them. Ben was only about four paragraphs in when he heard Walker's breathing even out.

They clicked off the lamp and left the room, only partially closing the door. "What are we going to do, Quentin? He can't just stay here if Doctor Palpatine is looking for him. He knows where I live."

"But he would have no way of knowing you'd have any connection to the boy at all, Ben. He's had no contact with you for years." Quentin kept his voice low and tone neutral, trying to gauge what Ben was thinking. The young man was guarding his expression and not letting any of what was going on behind those clear green-blue eyes.

"Don't you see it yet, Quentin? It's all connected somehow. You, Me, Maul, Walker, Palpatine… Even Yoda and the Jedi fit into this somehow. There is a common thread that we've already interrupted." Ben could feel his frustration rising. He was realizing more and more that his lover just never conceived of the larger picture, preferring to react to what the immediate situation was and let the chips fall where they will. The once shy young man realized he would be alone in this. He would just have to make Quentin realize it was necessary.

"Interrupted how?"

"Bluntly put, you weren't meant to live." He winced as the shadow passed over the older man's face; he knew he'd brought up the one thing neither of them had discussed since it had happened. Why Maul had broken off from the rest of the battle to engage Quentin was just one of the unanswered questions. Ben had the feeling went back to his old therapist.

"Then where do we go from here, Ben?" Quentin turned his hands palm up, gesturing conceding the point to Ben. The younger man had a plan forming, he could see it. His heart sank and he thought about the fact he'd only be there in its periphery.

"Palpatine will know by now that you are not dead. He'll make another attempt. I need you still, Quentin." Ben's smile was small, warm. Almost apologetic. "I love you. I need you to center me and your love to give me strength."

"But?"

"But, I need you to disappear. I need you to go and find out what you can about how many more gangs and gang members are being influenced by Palpatine." Ben's voice was serious. Old somehow and sounded nothing like the man of even a few days earlier. The voice of someone not used to people questioning him.

"And what will you do, love?" Quentin cupped his hand gently to the side of Ben's face and let the young man kiss his palm and soak what strength he could from him while there was still time.

"I will take Walker in the morning. Get a car and find my uncle. Put the house in escrow and then disappear myself. There can be no contact between us or Palpatine will use it to track us down. But I will find you when the time is right and we're ready to plan the next stage."

Quentin had a bad feeling about this. A feeling he carried through the night as they held each other and into the next day as he saw Ben and Walker off. He petted the dogs one more time and leaned in the window of the car, kissing Ben gently. "Be safe, my one."

"Take care of yourself, Quentin. And keep an eye out for me. I will never be far from you in spirit." Ben murmured against he mouth. Quentin stood back from the car and watched it drive away.

He could not shake the feeling it might be the last time he saw the young man that owned his heart.

Quentin swirled the double shot - whiskey, neat – around the bottom it his glass before downing the contents in one swallow. He made a small face at the slightly astringent taste of the alcohol as it burned its way down his throat.

The bar was illuminated with a red-orange, hazy light from the neon signs, the regulars all standing at the chipped, rough shod counter. The brass rail, having long ago been pulled away, left the edge of the counter scabrous and prone to leaving long splinters in the skin of the patrons. Quentin stared ahead, into the dingy mirror behind the bar, barely recognising the wraith who stared back at him.

Its lifeless eyes seemed sunken into the dark rings that surrounded them and its gaunt, pale features no more than skin stretched over harsh bone. Ragged, unclean hair and grizzled beard shrouded most of its face. He watched with horror as the creature raised its bony hand and signalled to the barkeep for another drink.

He'd been coming here for months now, letting the seedy surroundings devour him whole and hide him from the harsh light of day. Of reality. Months since he'd last felt the warmth of anything real, or hearing carefree laughter that tripped from young hearts. Since he'd seen or touched russet hair and felt the warm, sleep lax body of his soul's mate, curl around him unconsciously.

It had been months since he'd given up ever seeing or hearing from Ben again and when that happened, something inside him died.

His days were all spent the same way. Waking around noon with a pounding hangover, only to practically crawl to the jail where he visited with Mace for as long as they'd allow him. If visiting was the proper term for it. They would exchange bits of information gathered from inside and from without, about gang activites in the area and he found the deeper he dug, the more he realised his lover had been right. It was all connected.

Fat lot of good it would do him when his reason for caring at all was out there, somewhere. Possible alive. Possibly… He harshly pushed that last thoguht out of his head.

Someone to the back of him tapped his shoulder lightly and he moved along the bar a bit, grumbling under his breath. There was plenty of room at the counter and no need for anyone to invade on his private self-loathing. A few minutes passed before he felt the tap again, somewhat more insistent.

"Oi, away with ya now… I'm moved along as much as I'm going to and in no mood for fightin'," Quentin snarled, his brow knitting and fist clenching in case the inevitable happened.

A soft voice from behind him took his anger and in an instant managed to scatter is into the furthest reaches of the back of his mind. "Actually, I was wondering if I could buy you a drink."

Hardly believing it, but needing to know, Quentin turned quickly and choked back a sob. Life fired back into his previously dull azure eyes as they met with the stormy grey ones of his Ben.

FIN