Archive: Master & Apprentice, QJEB, SWA-L and The Nesting
Place, anyone else please ask!
Category: A/U, Action/Adventure
Rating: R for violence and language
Pairing: Q/O
Summary: Certain truths are revealed about both Ben and Jai
Gonn
Disclaimer: Don't own them, George Lucas does. If I did they
would have had a much happier ending! The planet name as well
as the general idea of the Arena and the Games are borrowed
from Simon R. Green's Deathstalker series - no copyright
infringement intended as no money is being made off of this.
Feedback: Yes please, it's addictive!
Author's Note: As always, heart-felt gratitude to my betas,
Holly, Tracy and Heather. If not for them my stories would be
one long run on sentence (g). Also a special thanks to Mre for
the libation to the gods - it worked!
Fingers closing tightly over the small glass cylinder in his
hand, Ben completed his turn and advanced on the other man, his
steps slow and measured, his expression wary. Stopping within a
half-meter of the larger man, Ken'ba tilted his head back
enough to meet his eyes and spoke. "Who in the hells are you?"
A ghost of a frown darkened Qui-Gon's eyes, then was gone,
vanished like the mist outside. "I believe I could ask you the
same question."
A muscle spasmed in the fighter's jaw, causing his face to
twitch. "I am what life has made me."
"Aren't we all?"
Giving a scoffing laugh, Ben raised the vial, holding it up to
the sunlight and examining the amber liquid inside. "Some of us
have made more of our lives than others, wouldn't you say?"
The Jedi ignored the jibe, concentrating instead on the ampoule
in the younger man's fingers. "I see you found what you
wanted," he commented dryly.
"It is not a matter of wanting, but of necessity."
A fragment of a shared memory surfaced, bringing with it
enlightenment. "If it is such a necessity, then why haven't you
taken it yet?"
Ben's lips curled into a cynical smile and raw power flared,
burning across the bond that still linked them. "Perhaps I am
trying to decide if I want to or not."
"When will you come to a decision?"
"After you have answered my question."
"And if I don't?"
"Then, Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn, you leave me to my own
devices. I would take care though. The Empress does not take
kindly to those who come to her under false pretenses."
There was no point in denying the accusation. Ken'ba had
plucked the truth - along with gods knew what other facts -
from his mind the night before. Conversely, Qui-Gon had learned
much about the younger man at the same time, though there
seemed to be a point where the memories and impressions simply
stopped.
"A bargain then. My life story for yours, does that suit you?"
"Does it include an explanation as to what happened last
night?"
The Jedi couldn't totally suppress a chuckle at that. "You mean
us having sex?"
Scornful silence met the attempt at levity.
"To tell you the truth I have no idea, I've never experienced
anything like it in my life."
Disbelief radiated from the younger man, but he declined to
comment. "I have to make a few calls. Get dressed and then we
can 'discuss' whatever it is you feel you need to know."
Feeling as if he was a Padawan dismissed by the Council,
Qui-Gon started back into the bedroom, then turned, testing the
connection that still bound them as he studied the shorter man.
"Should I expect the Empress' guards to be arriving soon?"
There was another burst of harsh laughter from the fighter.
"Hardly. Whatever your motives are, if they involve
discrediting the Bitch then you have my full support."
Ben waited until the other man vanished into the bedroom, then
walked toward another door, careful to keep his pain and
exhaustion from showing in his expression or stride. After
pulling on a pair of light-weight exercise pants and settling
the morning's first stim-stick between his lips, the fighter
crossed to the comm panel and cued up yesterday's messages.
Credit transfers from the match, a challenge from some hopped
up outlander determined to make a name for himself on the
Sands, a reminder from Maryja that he needed to come in to have
the work on his knee completed . . . The abused joint's ache
intensified at that as if in recrimination and Ben levered
himself into a chair, rubbing at the inflamed flesh.
"Get this done and you can take the time for regen . . ." he
muttered, keying in various codes and watching information
scroll across the screen. The depleted stim-stick was replaced
several times before Ben finished with his session and the
artificially introduced adrenaline sang along his nerves,
adding a knife-edge his senses. Feeling as if he was once more
in control of himself, the fighter rose, taking note of the
duty schedules of three specific guards before making his way
out of the room and sealing the door behind him.
Not many situations made the Jedi Master feel as if he was
swimming in water beyond his depth, but this was definitely one
of them. He could offer no explanation or excuse for what had
happened the previous night. Even now, the memory of the
explosive joining of body and mind sent shock waves skittering
along his skin in a silent demand for a repetition of the
event.
What I really need is time to meditate on this - that and a
long soak in a hot bath . . .
Neither of these were likely to be forthcoming and so Qui-Gon
went about the mundane tasks of cleaning himself up and
gathering his clothes, the small protests offered by his body
at each bend and stretch constant reminders of the way he had
been taken. Taken? You gave yourself to him, and gladly,
he sighed, running a hand through his shoulder-length hair,
suppressing a wince as his fingers caught, then laboriously
worked through, several snarls.
A search of the area around the bed finally revealed a short
piece of leather and as he strode from the room, the Jedi
confined his hair with it, clearing his vision. The outer room
was still empty and Qui-Gon took advantage of the moment by
engaging in a more thorough exploration of the large, airy
space.
A meticulous examination of the room led to one conclusion: Ben
Ken'ba invested little of himself in his living space. The
impressions garnered from the Force resonance here were at best
neutral, lending credence to the theory that the fighter did
not stay in his lodgings often.
Resisting the urge to sift through the memories he had glimpsed
the night before, Qui-Gon moved around the sofa to the massive
windows. The sky was a pale blue wash overlaid with wisps of
white and gray. Deeply shadowed foothills appeared purple
tinged with gold as the sunlight illuminated the grain fields
that covered their slopes. A small lake glittered like a
discarded jewel in the distance, its banks shaded by thick
stands of popanula trees.
A small tremor in the Force was the only indication Qui-Gon had
as to his host's arrival but it was enough for him to offer up
a comment without turning from the window. "An idyllic setting,
did you choose it yourself?"
"It's secure and quiet, that matters more than anything else. I
would be careful standing near the windows though. There are
energy dampers but sometimes people get fool-hardy and try to
take a shot at me through them."
Qui-Gon arched an eyebrow at that, studying the view a moment
longer before turning to look at the fighter. "Shall I take
that to mean that you have little use for aesthetic beauty in
your surroundings?"
Ben's gaze drifted to the scenery and lingered there for the
space of several heartbeats. "Whatever beauty I see is left on
the Sands."
"The artistry of killing?"
"The task of staying alive, I would hardly call killing an
art."
"Your public seems to think otherwise." The Jedi's tone was on
the verge of condescension, hoping to get some kind of reaction
from the other man.
Ken'ba merely shrugged and lowered himself into one of the
chairs after setting a container of a steaming beverage and two
mugs on the low table before him. "'My public' as you so
quaintly call them, are fools who live vicariously through
watching other fools risk their lives for sport."
After sitting and pouring himself a mug of the drink, Qui-Gon
chuckled. "So you consider yourself one of the fools them?"
"Of legendary proportions." His expression bleak, Ken'ba pulled
the rings from his hand and stacked them on the table next to
the pitcher. "Five times the fool - you should have garnered
enough from whatever it was you did last night to understand
what I mean by that."
Champion for two and a half years, a feat no one else had
managed in the history of the Games. A feat that the younger
man clearly took no pride in.
"You wanted to trade life stories, Sar Jedi. I suggest that you
begin before I grow weary of this conversation." After taking a
long draw from his cup, Ben pulled out another stim-stick and
leaned back, waiting with the relaxed watchfulness of a feline.
"My life story would take far too long to recount in one
setting, shall we trade vignettes?" At Ben's shrug, Qui-Gon
continued, not deigning to notice the rudeness of the gesture.
"First memories then . . . I must have been two or three, it
was just after I arrived at the Temple in any rate." The Jedi
paused, waiting to see if the fighter would question the word,
when he didn't, Qui-Gon continued, weaving a tale of one of his
earliest experiences with the Force and the repercussions of
his little adventure.
"And yours?"
Blue-green eyes were focused on something far away and Ben
unknowingly massaged his right wrist as he spoke. "The training
sands." Unbidden, the bond flared into life once again,
providing exquisite detail to the words.
There were no second chances in the Arena's classes. Those who
failed at one of the tests were sent to the pleasure domes or
to work in the huge agri-fields if they weren't purchased by
one of the "patrons" who frequented the bouts, studying the
young men and women like so much meat.
You learned early to keep people at a distance. Nothing pleased
the instructors more than pitting two friends against each
other in a test. If they refused to fight, both were shipped
off, never to be heard from again - though there were rumors .
. .
Even this second-hand viewing of this violation of youth made
Qui-Gon's gorge rise and he drew a hand over his mouth,
swallowing harshly as the bond relaxed once again. "That's your
first memory? How old were you?" From what he could remember,
the other students had seemed to be in their early teens, but
surely that was not the first thing the fighter could recall,
surely there had been some sense of a normal life in his past.
"Fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, somewhere around there. I'm not
really sure." From the younger man's tone it was apparent that
the fact that he had no recollection of over half of his life
didn't trouble him.
Qui-Gon opened his mouth to object - to what he wasn't certain
- but was cut off by the other man. "I am what life has made
me, nothing more, nothing less."
The Jedi drained his mug, silently contemplating that
philosophy of life, then gazed at Ben steadily. "Tell me your
happiest memory."
"Hasn't happened yet," was the curt reply.
"How do you know it will be your happiest memory then?"
The smile the curved the fighter's lips was terrifying in it's
ferocity. "Trust me Sar Jedi, when what I want to have occur
becomes a memory, it will be the happiest moment in my life."
Ripples in the living Force surrounding the smaller man washed
over Qui-Gon, making him uneasy. Whatever it was Ken'ba had in
mind for someone, it was not going to be pleasant.
"No need for you to tell me yours. When you became a Jedi
Knight, correct?"
"Correct," Qui-Gon murmured, wondering just what the younger
man had made of his memories of the ceremony. The ritual
cutting of his braid by his Master, the pride he had seen in
Yoda's eyes as his Padawan was confirmed a full member of the
Order . . .
"None of you would last five minutes out there." Ben's sardonic
comment cut through the Jedi's recollection, impaling him with
pinpoint accuracy.
"Why do you say that?"
"Too soft, too forgiving. You'd be cut down before you made it
out onto the Sands."
"And what you did for that family wasn't forgiving?"
The fighter scowled. "It is not their fault Elini chose them as
bait in the madness she calls my life."
"Nevertheless, you did not have to visit them afterward, most
wouldn't take any notice of them - besides the guards that is."
"I lied Sar Jedi," Ben said quietly. "There are three memories
that I will count as my happiest: ruining the Empress, getting
you off this planet, and dealing with the three dead men who
misjudged my retaliation yesterday."
A proximity alarm went off at that, making both men look toward
the window. A small skimmer could be seen in the distance
though it was closing rapidly.
"And it seems the last of those three things is going to happen
right now." The thin-lipped smile the fighter wore faltered as
he stood and his knee threatened to give out before he had it
under control once again.
"You can't fight three of them. You can hardly walk and you
have poison racing through your veins, what kind of odds are
those?" Qui-Gon bounded to his feet and planted himself in
front of the smaller man, blocking his path.
Using a combination of upper body strength and the Force, Ben
flipped the Jedi out of the way. "The best kind," he grated out
as he stalked toward a smooth wooden chest, flipped it open and
began removing weapons, buckling them into place on his body
over the cloth trousers that were all he wore.
"Damn fool . . ." Qui-Gon growled, getting slowly to his feet.
He could feel the determination and concentration pouring
through the link that bound them, colored with the intimate
knowledge of what the three men had done to the shop-keeper's
daughter. "Going to get himself killed . . ." Without realizing
he was moving, the Jedi raced back into the bedroom and
snatched up his belt, pulling his lightsaber from it's loops as
he did so. Hide in plain sight is a good trick at times like
these, he sighed, feeling the familiar weight of his
weapon's hilt smack into his palm. He wasn't ready to actively
take part in whatever it was Ken'ba had planned but damned if
he was going to stand by and let the other man get massacred -
not before he found out just what had formed this bond between
them and why.
By the time Qui-Gon emerged from the room, Ben was already out
the door and waiting for his guests from a vantage point near
his speeder. The position afforded decent cover as well as
leaving the guards exposed and vulnerable on their flanks - if
the fighter could circle around that far without them picking
him off.
"Heard you were checking up on us, Ken'ba!" the largest of the
three men growled from the safety of the skimmer.
"You know why, Landor."
"Ain't nothing she didn't want and you know it."
Qui-Gon could feel the anger and disgust wash over the younger
man but the feelings were quickly released, leaving only the
pure concentration toward the battle to come singing through
the connection.
"If you believe that Chebek then you're a bigger fool then your
friend Manok."
"You're the damn fool, Ken'ba!" a higher pitched voice shouted.
"Live like some sort of fucking monk out here when you could
have anything or anyone you want!"
"Heard you haven't gotten that knee fixed yet either," Chebek
taunted. "Too bad for you."
"Perhaps." From the sound of his voice, Ben was making his way
around behind the other men though they were likewise shifting
their position in anticipation of the attack.
A sharp pulse of the Force pushed at Qui-Gon's nerves and a
planter on the opposite side of the courtyard toppled over,
drawing the guards' attention. Spooked by the noise, one leapt
over the back of the skimmer, then collapsed, a throwing knife
buried in his chest.
"But perhaps not," Ben said calmly. "One down, who's next?"
With a maddened howl, Landor launched himself in the direction
of the fighter's voice, his sword swinging in a vicious arc
that was cut short when it was intercepted by Ken'ba's blade.
The two men battled back and forth in the small, enclosed
space, weaving around the two vehicles as the third guard
attempted to get an open shot with his blaster.
As the short guard brought his weapon to bear, Qui-Gon moved,
streaking forward and igniting his 'saber at the same time. The
blade whirred down in a smooth green arc, deflecting the red
fire of the blaster bolt and sending it back in the direction
it came from. The guard cursed and leapt aside, confused by
this attack from a new quarter. Moving warily, his lightsaber
held in a defensive posture, the Jedi moved forward, determined
to keep the odds in this battle as even as possible.
"A little sore there, eh Champion?" Landor taunted, feinting to
the left so that Ben would be forced to put more weight on his
injured leg. "Too bad this isn't on the Sands. I could make me
a freighterload of jinsas by beating you."
Ben remained quiet, totally attuned to his opponent, but aware
of the struggle going on behind him in a peripheral way.
Normally the guard would have been no match for him but between
the slowing of his reflexes due to the poison and the drag of
his bad leg, his timing was significantly off. "Maybe you
should call up one of the holovid companies and have them tape
it," he grated out, twisting to the side to avoid a strike and
raking his sword over the armor of the taller man's breast
plate.
"Maybe I will, there would be good money in this."
"Though the Empress won't like it if Manok there kills her pet
Republic trade representative." Ben's breathing was rasping
harshly in his ears and a dark aura seemed to surround
everything in front of him.
"Time to die, Ken'ba . . ." the guard taunted, seeing the
disorientation in the other man's eyes and driving in for the
kill.
Can't they ever say anything original? Ben growled to
himself before the world was incinerated in a flash of
white-hot pain.
Qui-Gon heard the crash of swords behind him then the heavy
thud of two bodies hitting the ground. Damn, I don't have
time for this, he snarled to himself, deflecting another
shot from the single remaining guard's blaster. Whether it was
frustration or a flash of anger he wasn't sure, but the
reflected bolt impacted solidly with the other man's chest,
tossing him backwards to lie in a lifeless heap hear the side
of his skimmer.
Running through a mantra to clear the communal pain from his
mind, the Jedi raced over to the entangled forms of the fighter
and the guard, prying the larger man off the smaller one to
determine the extent of their injuries. The knife in the
guard's throat precluded any thought of medical attention for
him and even as he watched, Ben's eyes flickered open and he
groaned.
"You need a medic," Qui-Gon stated calmly, reaching out to
offer the younger man a hand up.
"Fuck," the fighter gasped, pushing himself to a sitting
position but unable to move any father as his re-injured knee
protested.
"Don't think you're quite in shape to do that," the Jedi joked,
earning a harsher curse for his troubles.
Strength and stability were flowing through the conduit between
them, giving Ben something solid to hang onto as his vision
hazed in and out. "Get me inside . . . and call . . . Maryja .
. ." he gasped out, biting through his lower lip as Qui-Gon
eased him to his feet and started them toward the building.
"She'll know what to do . . ."
"Damn fool," the Jedi whispered moving to support the smaller
man as he totally collapsed, lifting the fighter into his arms
and carrying him into the house.
"So why didn't he take the antidote yesterday?" The strident
voice pulled Ben from his drug-induced stupor though he still
couldn't manage to gather enough strength to move.
"I don't know." Both voices should have been familiar, but for
the life of him he couldn't place either.
"Any longer and it wouldn't have mattered."
"And why is that?"
"Because he would be dead!"
The fighter gave up trying to move, but managed to open his
eyes enough to make out two blurry forms at the foot of the
bed. "There is no death," he muttered, the words slurred,
"there is the Force."
"What did he say?" the medic exclaimed, dropping the argument
and darting to the injured man's side to check his vital signs.
"Something he shouldn't know about," Qui-Gon replied, a
troubled frown creasing his brow.
~end~
8/17/99
Sorry there wasn't any smut this time (g) had some stuff to get
through first! Is it still working? Part 4 "Shattered Plans" is
in the works - you know that feedback at RinaSHW@aol.com will
get me moving faster!
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