Master Apprentice Archive Dark Side of the Moon Quick search:

Dark Side of the Moon

by Rushlight (n_sanity75@hotmail.com)

Author's Webpage: http://www.slashcity.org/~rushlight/

Fandom: Star Wars: TPM (Q/O)

Archive: MA and the BIC (Prisoner!Fic) archive

Category: Angst

Rating: NC-17

Summary: Qui-Gon awaits execution on an alien world and finds that he regrets the one thing he chose to leave behind.

Feedback: yes, please! Any comments, encouragement, critique, etc. will be endlessly appreciated. :)

Notes: This story was first published in the "Living Force" zine, in August 2000.

NOW

Qui-Gon Jinn leaned back against the wall of his prison and pondered the meaning of his life. It was a direction of introspection that he did not often take, as the import of his life was usually more or less a given. To be certain, he had done great things in the span that had been allotted to him. He had helped literally hundreds of worlds, easing them through the growing pains of new democracies, mediating in trade disputes that threatened to decimate populations on a level approaching genocide, thwarted the occasional assassination attempt, and generally helped defend those who could not or would not defend themselves. There was no one in the galaxy who could argue that his life had not had impact.

Still, sitting here in the encroaching dark, he wondered if it had been enough.

Wearily, he examined once again the banality of his surroundings. The hut had at first appeared primitive, but there were in fact heavy forcefields in place around it. The Mynarian culture was subtle this way, combining raw practicality with modern technology in a way that Qui-Gon had seldom seen in his travels. The result was an elegance that was at once beautiful and functional, much the same as the Mynarian people. The surface under him was covered with soft rushes, which provided both cushioning as well as protection from the cold of the earthen floor. His captors were nothing if not considerate.

He was to be executed at dawn. That was what his jailer had said to him before he was locked into this little room, the comforts of which were completely incongruous with its purpose. Perhaps it was meant to soothe him, to give him solace as he found peace with his soul before the sun's rays touched the horizon in the morning. Bad enough that they were going to kill him; there was no need to be rude in the process.

The thought made him smile grimly. His sense of humor had taken a decidedly darker turn since he'd come to the capital of the Aynarin tribe and unintentionally violated the chieftain's religious laws by venturing inside the sacred circle of stones outside the village. The eddies of Force had been strong there, and Qui-Gon had been drawn to it, despite the tingles of warning that he had felt as he observed the runes etched in the hard surface of the stones.

He remembered standing there, tracing his fingers in the deeply carved lines of the runes, thinking that this hill had the feel of a sacred place. The sky had been overcast that morning, the sun half-obscured by clouds, and the shadow that clung to the hilltop had been chilling in its obscurity.

Now, in the darkness of his seclusion, in the privacy of his heart, Qui-Gon could consider the truth. He had known full well about the Aynarins' predilection for religious taboos, and he had also known that the punishment for breaking their religious laws was death. The Force had warned him in its quiet way when he stepped over the invisible boundary into the heart of the stones; it had whispered to him as he knelt to enter into his meditation, the breeze stirring his hair lightly against his cheek. It had been with a feeling of profound self-possession that he had delved into the currents of Force that eddied around him. And when the guards had come to find him there, he had not been surprised.

Had he been actively seeking his death? The thought was disturbing, but it was something he had to consider. The possibility of death had always been a lingering shadow throughout his career as a Jedi, but never had it seemed at all a welcoming presence. Now, at this point in his existence, he was no longer so sure.

Do you want to die, you foolish old man? he chastised himself harshly. There was no answering voice from within him, and the complete lack of response brought him up short. Surely he must have an opinion on this matter, one way or the other. But the more he stilled himself to listen, the more aware he became of the echoing emptiness inside of him.

He closed his eyes with a sigh, resting his head back against the wall behind him. Certainly there had been choices worthy of regret in his life. Roads not taken, possibilities left unexplored. But, amongst all of the angst of his memories, there did shine the occasional light.

Like Obi-Wan.

The thought made him wince in sudden pain, but it was too late. The memory, once invoked, began to unfold with the inevitability of a summer storm.

"Obi-Wan," he whispered into the deepening dark.

The darkness made no reply.

THEN

"I love you, Master."

Obi-Wan's eyes were wide in the Coruscant twilight, illuminated by the scintillating glitter of the lights outside their window. His expression was earnest, but determined, and the absolute adoration of his gaze was enough to make Qui-Gon's heart clench in a frenzy of desperate longing. How long had he been in love with his apprentice? Far longer than was proper, he was sure. He had dreamt of hearing these exact words pass Obi-Wan's lips, sometimes in the midst of finding his body's own turbulent release from the passions that enslaved it, and now, now that he was finally being offered the object of his dreams...

He was afraid.

"Obi-Wan," he said, as gently as he could. His heart was pounding a staccato rhythm inside his chest. "You're still very young..."

To Qui-Gon's complete disgruntlement, Obi-Wan's smile only softened at his words. "It doesn't matter to me if you don't feel the same," the younger man said quietly. "I just wanted you to know how I feel." There was acceptance in his eyes, and affection, and underneath it all, the faintest stirrings of hope.

Hope that Qui-Gon did indeed return his feelings, that his love would not be unrequited.

Qui-Gon opened his mouth to reply, and the words stuck in his throat. All it would take was one word, just one word to say that no, he didn't feel the same as Obi-Wan did, and the matter would be over with here and now. But he couldn't say it, and the more he stared into his padawan's guileless blue eyes, the more he began to realize that he didn't want to say it.

Obi-Wan's smile turned slightly more purposeful as the silence between them deepened, and he slid closer across the couch until he was situated less than an arm's length away. His eyes never left Qui-Gon's.

Very slowly, Obi-Wan lifted a hand to trail one finger across his Master's cheek. Qui-Gon shuddered and closed his eyes, his breath catching. His mind raced in furious denial, demanding that he do something to stop this before it grew out of his control, but he was leaning into the touch now, his entire body thrumming with an unspoken plea.

"I love you, Qui-Gon." Obi-Wan's voice was thick with the weight of his emotions, and with those three simple words, Qui-Gon was lost.

He felt Obi-Wan's breath waft warmly across his face before he felt the pressure of his padawan's lips on his own. The kiss was tentative, questioning, giving him ample opportunity to pull away if that was what he desired, but he sat there as if frozen, the fear he felt battling with the desire that surged up like some wild beast within him. Qui-Gon knew that he loved this man, cherished him more than his own life, but the enormity of the step they were about to take overwhelmed him, left him aching and dizzy with trepidation and a high, keening need that left him breathless.

He didn't move as Obi-Wan's tongue flickered out to trace along the swell of his bottom lip. He could hear the younger man's breath hitch at the contact, and he realized with some degree of astonishment that Obi-Wan was as caught up in this moment as he was. This was the culmination of years of frustrated yearning, for both of them, and there was a stillness in the air around them as if the world itself held its breath in silent anticipation of the tearing down of this final wall between them.

Emboldened, Obi-Wan let his tongue slide in between Qui-Gon's lips, just the barest taste, and both men moaned in unison at the contact. Obi-Wan was smiling as he nipped playfully at his Master's bearded chin. "I've been wanting you for so very long," he breathed, nuzzling lightly into Qui-Gon's cheek, enjoying the feel of that soft beard against the skin of his face. "So very long."

"Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon groaned, half in protest, half in mindless supplication. His arms moved up as if of their own accord to close around his apprentice, and Obi-Wan melted against him, his body forming to his Master's with a pliancy that Qui-Gon found intensely erotic. This beautiful young man loved him, wanted him, and the thought was so staggering that he could not grasp it. Obi-Wan was here now, offering his body, offering his soul, and all Qui-Gon had to do to accept it was reach out and take what was being offered.

"Obi-Wan," he said again, and when he bent his head to taste his padawan's lips, he found them parted for him in open invitation. Qui-Gon hesitated only half a heartbeat before plunging his tongue inside, tasting, ravishing, his arms tightening around his padawan until the younger man was inextricably entwined in his grasp. Their bodies molded together as Qui-Gon pushed him back onto the couch, covering him with the tall lanky strength of his body. Obi-Wan responded with equal fire, his hands moving ecstatically over Qui-Gon's back, smoothing around to the front of his Master's chest and pushing the coarse material of the tunics back over his shoulders.

"Yes," Obi-Wan hissed as he arched up under Qui-Gon's touch. Qui-Gon's hands moved over him with bruising strength, claiming him with a violence born of years of frustrated passion. Obi- Wan's body sang with barely suppressed need under him, all but demanding that he take more, give more, share more between them. With a low cry, Qui-Gon buried his face against his padawan's neck, his body quivering in an agony of desire.

"Shh, Qui-Gon, it's all right." Obi-Wan's touch gentled on him, and he scattered a rain of light kisses across the older man's face. Slowly, Qui-Gon relaxed, as Obi-Wan continued to croon soothingly into his ear.

"I want you," Qui-Gon whispered, rubbing his nose lightly along the slope of his padawan's neck.

There was the barest of pauses, and then Obi-Wan said, "I love you, Qui-Gon." There was a note to his voice that Qui-Gon couldn't quite place.

But then there was no more room for thought as those delicately sensual hands began to strip Qui-Gon of his tunics, trailing lines of pure sensation across his skin wherever they touched him. Qui-Gon gave in entirely to their tacit demand, helping Obi-Wan divest himself of his own garments, and then they were lying together, skin to skin, and there was no greater joy in all the universe than this contact between them. Qui-Gon surrendered to it completely, letting the glide of their bodies carry him away from the fear and the hesitation that entrapped him, losing himself in the tender magnificence of his padawan's body.

Obi-Wan moaned in Qui-Gon's ear, reduced to sharp gasps and whimpers as Qui-Gon's hips ground into him, his knees bent so that his thighs embraced his Master's body. One hand was knotted in the long fall of hair at the back of Qui-Gon's neck, the other clasped tightly to his Master's hip as they moved together, both straining for the release that hovered so close in the air around them. With a sudden intake of breath, Obi-Wan threw his head back and screamed Qui-Gon's name, his arms clenching convulsively around his Master's frame. The sound of his name shouted with such passion from his padawan's lips sent Qui-Gon immediately over the edge, and he smothered his cries against Obi-Wan's hair as the orgasm shuddered through him.

Sated, the two men collapsed onto the couch together, arms held tightly around each other. Qui-Gon tightened his grip around his new lover, resting his chin against the top of the younger man's head. He stared out at the lights of Coruscant, feeling as if his entire world had been remade around him. Nothing could ever be the same now between them, and while a part of him sincerely rejoiced at this new intimacy that they had found together, the greater part of him recoiled in abject horror at where it might lead. To have found his padawan's love was exciting, intoxicating, but there was no way it could possibly last. Obi- Wan was young, and beautiful. How could he possibly consider binding himself to a tiresome old man like Qui-Gon Jinn? Their passion was bound to fade eventually, and the pain of that parting would be such that it may have been better if they'd never expressed their love at all.

Even so, Qui-Gon found that he could not let Obi-Wan go. His arms tightened even more around his padawan with a possessiveness that frightened him, but Obi-Wan voiced no complaint. He only made a pleased little whimpering sound and burrowed closer to Qui-Gon's chest, as if he were afraid that his Master would disappear if he moved away for even a moment.

It was a long time before Qui-Gon was able to fall asleep.

NOW

The sound of the forcefield being disengaged pulled Qui-Gon out of the light doze he had fallen into. Instinct took over, and he was on his feet, weariness falling away from him as he took in his surroundings. To his surprise, there was the faintest blush of color at the horizon outside the small window in his room. He realized with shock that he must have fallen asleep without realizing it. His final night of life, and he had slept through it.

But he found that he could not be entirely upset by this. With the slightest of smiles, he remembered that his dreams had been of Obi-Wan.

The Aynarin guards came into the room, the morning light catching in delicate luminescence on the edges of their golden-yellow fur.

They carried stun rods, in case Qui-Gon proved to be difficult, but the Jedi Master had no intention of resisting them. Even with the Force at his command, it was impossible to think that he could break free of them all. This was an intensely warrior- driven society, which was one of the reasons Qui-Gon had been sent to mediate in their civil dispute with the neighboring tribes, and there were thousands of warriors in this city alone. There was no chance for escape, even if he did wish it.

The thought was strangely comforting in its inevitability.

The guards said nothing as they led him from the room, and as he walked, Qui-Gon wondered at his lack of objection to the helplessness of his position. All his life, it had been important for him to be in control - of his emotions, of his urges, of the motivations that drove him. Why now, all of a sudden, did he feel such comfort in having his choices removed from him?

The puzzle continued to vex him as he was brought into a shadowed glen across from the huts that comprised the Aynarin prison. There was a shallow pool here, its surface placid and dark beneath the weight of the still air. The trunks of the trees here were perfectly smooth, and so pale they appeared lavender in the light of the dawning sun. Their feathery branches hung heavy with dark seedcones, it nearing the season when they would release their seed to germinate the surrounding countryside. Qui-Gon breathed deeply, inhaling the heady scent of the rushes, and pondered the possibility of new life, of hope growing out of the seeds of despair.

It was almost ironic, if he stopped to think about it.

There were several female Aynarins here waiting for him, clan daughters if he was reading the markings on their headdresses correctly. They indicated that he was to disrobe and join them in the water, and he complied without a word. The guards ranged around the edge of the clearing, but Qui-Gon ignored them as he stepped naked into the water and moved solemnly toward the center of the pool.

No words seemed to be needed. He wondered if that was because of yet another religious taboo, or if they just did not have anything to say to him. In either case, he found the silence comforting as the females proceeded to bathe him. Surprisingly, the water was pleasantly warm, and he figured that it must be fed by an underground hot spring. At the center of the pool, the water came up to just over his hips. Cloths were caked with soft sand and rubbed over his shoulders and chest, and he found himself relaxing into the sensations as five pairs of hands proceeded to wash his body clean.

He let his eyes close, and his head fell back slightly as the sensations coursed through him. The gentle sound of the water lapping against the shoreline was mesmerizing, and there didn't seem to be another sound in the entire world. Just the water, and the hands on his skin, and once again he found himself falling into memory.

THEN

The glint in Obi-Wan's eyes was playful as his hand moved under the water to slide up Qui-Gon's leg. Qui-Gon couldn't help but smile at that teasing touch, and the skin along his inner thigh began to prickle as those too-light fingers brushed across it.

"Tease," the Jedi Master chastised lightly, feeling a comfortable warmth expand in his chest as he met his padawan's adoring gaze.

Obi-Wan smirked at him. The look in his eyes turned quietly smoldering, sparking an immediate increase in his Master's heart rate. "You should know me better than that by now, Master," he said, stroking his fingers up over Qui-Gon's hip to play absently with the curls that covered the older man's stomach.

Qui-Gon's breath caught under the caress, making him shift slightly in the water of the tub. It was not actually designed for two, but they had had ample practice over the past two years in making do. Obi-Wan was, as always, a generous and enthusiastic lover, and the surroundings never seemed to matter quite so much to him as the company. It made Qui-Gon feel cherished, the way this man seemed to worship him, as if the sole purpose of his existence was to be with the man that he loved.

Some of Qui-Gon's happiness fled inexplicably at that thought, as all of the old insecurities came rushing back to him. His hand lifted out of the tepid water to trail a light touch across the skin above Obi-Wan's right ear. "Not your Master any more," he said softly.

Obi-Wan's hand moved instinctively to touch the place where his padawan braid had once been, his fingers brushing across Qui- Gon's and sparking a small flare of lust through the older man at the contact. Obi-Wan's smile turned wistful as he said, "You'll always be my Master, Qui-Gon."

Qui-Gon closed his eyes against the swell of pain that rose in him. He remembered Obi-Wan kneeling before him at the Knighting ceremony this morning, the feel of that silken braid under his fingers, the resistance as his scissors cut it away from his former padawan's head. He had never felt such pride, such happiness, such joy in his student's accomplishments. Yoda had taken his hand and congratulated him on the raising of such a fine Jedi Knight.

But now that Obi-Wan had come into his own, now that he was a man of his own with no ties binding him to his former Master, it was past time that he should be seeking other mates. There had never been any promises spoken between them, although Qui-Gon knew that his padawan had taken no other lovers since the night he had first declared his love for his Master. Qui-Gon for his part had been faithful as well, hiding the depth of his feeling for this man from himself when he could, giving into the pull of his desire when the pressures became too great within him. And still he lived every day in dreadful anticipation for the time when Obi-Wan would tell him that he had found another.

Obi-Wan's hands were kneading gently into the muscles of Qui- Gon's thighs, his thumbs stroking inward along the crease between hip and thigh with deep, sure strokes. Qui-Gon arched up into the touch without thinking, his mind awash in mingled fear and ecstasy. There was always the fear between them, coloring everything that they were together. And even while Qui-Gon recognized this fault as existing entirely within himself, he could do nothing to change it.

"Obi-Wan," he whispered, and Obi-Wan answered by trailing his lips lightly across the planes of Qui-Gon's stomach, just below the surface of the water. Qui-Gon let out his breath in a sigh, whatever else he had been about to say breaking apart under the sensual onslaught of the feel of his lover's mouth on his body. His erection was hard and aching between his legs, the slow swirl of the water around him maddening in its placid touch.

Obi-Wan's tongue dipped into the water to probe at the head of Qui-Gon's cock, and Qui-Gon's breath left him in a hiss, his hands moving to smooth over his former student's shoulders in silent encouragement. Warm lips closed around the very tip of his erection, tongue smoothing over the crown and nudging into the slit, making Qui-Gon arch under him with a low gasp. Qui-Gon let his head fall back against the edge of the tub, his hair trailing around him in the warm water, and closed his eyes, his entire being centered on the delicious torment of his lover's mouth.

Strong hands closed around Qui-Gon's hips to keep them from thrusting upward too hard, and Obi-Wan took more of his Master's flesh into his mouth, nipping gently as he swallowed the angry heat of Qui-Gon's erection. Qui-Gon shuddered, his hand fisting in the back of the younger man's hair, but Obi-Wan seemed oblivious as he went down and swallowed his Master whole.

Qui-Gon arched up out of the water with a shout, but then Obi- Wan's hands tightened on him and there was nothing to do but lie still and take it as Obi-Wan licked, nipped, and sucked at his straining flesh. Qui-Gon panted, his gaze locked to the ceiling above him, his every muscle taut as he felt the orgasm come screaming towards him. There was no finesse in Obi-Wan's technique here, only an almost violent need to give his Master release, and Qui-Gon's body reveled in the lustful exuberance of the pleasure it was being given. With a final searing cry, Qui- Gon's fingers clenched in what must have been an exceedingly painful grip around the back of his former padawan's head, thrusting up with his hips into that hot mouth to spill his seed into his lover's willing throat. Obi-Wan made no sound of protest, and after several seconds he reached to extricate Qui- Gon's hands from his hair, giving soft, gentle kisses to his Master's fading erection.

Qui-Gon's eyes were still fastened on the ceiling above him. "Obi-Wan," he said softly.

"Yes, Master?" Obi-Wan did not look up at him.

Qui-Gon sighed deeply, his fingers massaging into the back of the younger man's neck. "Obi-Wan," he said again. "You're a Knight now. There is nothing binding you to me any more."

"No." Obi-Wan's voice was almost inaudible.

"I think that it is time that you seek other lovers." Only a supreme effort of will kept his voice from breaking. "You're so young, Obi-Wan, and you have so much of life ahead of you-"

"No, Master." When Obi-Wan finally looked up at him, there were tears in his eyes. Qui-Gon had the uncomfortable impression that they had been there for quite some time.

Drawing a shuddering breath, Qui-Gon said, "It is for the best, my-" Clearing his throat, he finished, "Obi-Wan."

The pain in Obi-Wan's eyes was shattering. "Please," he said quietly, one hand stroking lightly at the inside of Qui-Gon's thigh. "Please, Qui-Gon, don't do this."

It was almost enough to break Qui-Gon's resolve, but he knew that his conscience would not allow him to hold his former apprentice back any longer. For the sake of this man that he loved, he had to be strong. "I'm sorry, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan's smile turned bitter, and he pulled back, reaching for a towel next to the bathtub and drawing it around his waist as he rose and stepped out of the tub. To Qui-Gon's distress, the bitterness in that smile seemed to be directed inward.

"I knew," Obi-Wan said quietly, his gaze expressionless as he stared blankly out across the room. "I knew you didn't love me, from that first night that we spent together. But I kept hoping..." Fighting back the sob that seemed to be trying to rise out of him, he ran the fingers of one hand through his wet hair and took a deep, shuddering breath. "You have nothing to be sorry for, Qui-Gon. I'm the one who..." Again, he didn't seem able to finish, and he abruptly turned and left the room.

Qui-Gon stared after him, his heart constricting in his chest. Not love him...? The thought was ludicrous, but as he thought back frantically over the past two years, it occurred to him that he had never once told Obi-Wan that he loved him. Never let him know that his love was returned with anything more than an equal desire for physical contact. A low moan rose out of Qui-Gon's throat as he considered how his padawan must have felt, giving his body repeatedly to a man that he believed did not love him in the hopes that someday, that love might be returned. Giving of himself without remorse or restraint, taking what Qui-Gon was willing to give and dreaming that someday it might be more.

Everything in Qui-Gon screamed at him to go after Obi-Wan and beg his forgiveness, but he didn't move. Terror held him to the spot, and indecision, as he desperately tried to think of words that would make things right between them. And then he heard the low swish of the front door opening and closing, and it was too late.

He stayed there in the water until it was cold around him, and even then it was a very long time before he rose and moved to get ready for bed.

NOW

The clan daughters wrapped a white robe around his shoulders as he emerged from the pool, and Qui-Gon submitted to their ministrations with a detached coolness that was likely being taken as equanimity by the Aynarins who tended to him. Only he knew what twisted pain writhed behind the façade of serenity, and he almost smiled in bitter self-loathing as he considered the truth of the matter. He, Qui-Gon Jinn, vaunted Jedi Master, had let his fear cut him off from the one thing that had ever brought him true happiness in his life.

Why was it that he could see this now, instead of back then when it would have done some good? He had let Obi-Wan go out of a sense of groundless guilt, a steadfast refusal to believe that his lover's feelings could be real, and in so doing he had shattered a man whose only crime had been to love him unconditionally. Tears stung at Qui-Gon's eyes, and he blinked them back angrily as he followed his guards out of the clearing and up the rise toward the center of the village. He had been unable to give up his precious control, not even for something as rewarding as his Obi-Wan's love.

Forgive me, Obi-Wan, he thought, feeling slightly woozy as he made the trek up the hill. It occurred to him, with frightening suddenness, that he was going to die here. He could hear the sound of chimes in the distance, carried on the steadily rising wind. The sun had cleared the edge of the horizon, and the land was awash with rose-hued light, casting golden shadows around him. Somewhere from the depths of the forest, a cluster of aurora birds raised their voices in a low harmony to welcome the dawn.

The sound of it sparked another memory, and he clung to it, desperate for any last contact with the man that he loved, no matter how fleeting and painful. Concentrating on the eloquent notes of the birdsong, he lowered his gaze to the ground in front of his feet as he walked, and remembered.

THEN

Obi-Wan's gaze was steady as he met his former Master's eyes, waiting for an answer. The arboretum was quiet around them, the shadows long with evening's coming. The deep silence of the wood was broken only by the muted chatter of birdsong, whistling low and melodic through the darkening air.

"I'm sorry, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said at last, tearing his gaze away and staring out across the glade. He folded his hands carefully inside the sleeves of his robe, knowing in his heart that it was a defensive gesture. "I cannot."

Obi-Wan nodded, and Qui-Gon was glad suddenly that he had turned away, so that he would be spared the sight of the pain in those crystalline eyes.

"I understand, Master."

It must have taken a great deal of courage to ask his former Master to officiate at his bonding ceremony. Qui-Gon regretted suddenly that he had not agreed to participate; surely he owed the boy that much? But as always seemed to be the case between them, such sentiments appeared too little and too late. Obi-Wan was already bowing in his politely respectful way and turning to leave.

"Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon's voice was soft.

Obi-Wan stopped, but did not turn. "Yes, Master?"

Qui-Gon paused for an endless moment, his pulse roaring in his ears. Finally, he said, "I wish you all happiness with Therian."

With a stiff bow, Obi-Wan left his former Master standing alone in the middle of the glade, listening to the sound of the chorusing birds.

It was the last time that he had ever come to see Qui-Gon, and Qui-Gon had not sought him out since.

NOW

The Arbiter was standing at the top of the hill, surrounded by a loose circle of his attendants. This was the primary religious leader of the Aynarin tribe, and the one who would carry out the god's sentence. There was nothing cruel in his gaze as Qui-Gon drew level with him. Somewhat taller than the average for his people, the Arbiter met the Jedi Master's gaze levelly, the soft amber hue of his eyes looking somehow benevolent in the light of the rising sun.

"Do you understand the nature of your crime against our people, Jhedi?" the Arbiter asked, only the faintest of accents marring the subtle music of his words.

Qui-Gon had always loved listening to the Mynarian dialects. The languages on this world were somehow both strong and ethereal, much like the people who spoke them.

"I do," he said, inclining his head in submission. The glade was entirely silent around them.

"Then kneel, Jhedi, and accept the judgment of our god." The Arbiter lifted a slender silver knife from his belt and held it out for all those assembled to see. The dawning light caught on its edge with a sliver of liquid fire.

Qui-Gon slowly lowered himself to his knees, and against his will, an image flashed across his mind. Obi-Wan, on his knees before him, head bowed in deference as Qui-Gon stood before him holding the silver scissors that would remove his padawan braid. Blue-green eyes gazing up at his Master with the faintest of smiles ghosting across his lips, a subtle, unspoken acknowledgment of the bond between them, and a promise of how they would celebrate together after the Knighting ceremony was completed.

No, Qui-Gon thought viciously, fighting back the rapid sting of tears. I don't want to remember.

Fiercely, he shoved the memory away, and it was immediately replaced by another. Himself on his knees in the Council Chamber, asking Yoda for permission to pursue the mission on Mynara. Wise yellow eyes had gazed at him for what seemed an eternity before the answer had come, and it was with an inexplicable sadness that the aged Council member had given his consent. Qui-Gon remembered the weight of that heavy gaze and wondered if Yoda had perhaps seen what Qui-Gon had only recently come to acknowledge. Had Yoda known that Qui-Gon was going to seek his death on Mynara? If so, why had he allowed his former padawan to go?

The answer became clear as Qui-Gon considered it. The wound that was eating him from within had been self-inflicted, and keeping him from Mynara would not have eased its pain. Perhaps Yoda had understood that this was Qui-Gon's choice to make, and any attempt to interfere would only delay the inevitable.

The low voice of the Arbiter droned on over the Jedi Master's bowed head, a lulling litany of words that drifted in and out of Qui-Gon's consciousness. Without warning, it occurred to Qui-Gon that the reason he felt such peace at the thought of his own helplessness was because there were no choices left for him to make. Only now, with all of his choices stripped from him, did he truly understand. Without choice, there could be no responsibility, and without responsibility, there was no longer any reason to fear. Kneeling here, waiting for the blow that would end his life, he had never felt more free.

A low murmur in the Force drew his attention to his surroundings once again. Qui-Gon glanced up to find the Arbiter's gaze fixed on some undetermined point behind the kneeling Jedi Master. Trying to focus on the urgent whisperings of the Force that rose around him, Qui-Gon turned to look over his shoulder to see what had commanded his executioner's attention.

Obi-Wan was standing at the foot of the rise.

For a moment, Qui-Gon's mind refused to grasp what he was seeing, and he blinked several times in an attempt to clear his vision. Perhaps this was a Force-induced hallucination, designed out of some morbid attempt to give him closure before he passed beyond this life. If so, it was a cruel illusion, and Qui-Gon was going to have some serious issues to take up with the Force when he finally became One with it.

But if that was the case, why was the Arbiter seeing the hallucination, too?

Obi-Wan (real or imagined) began to make his way up the path leading to the circle of watchers at the top of the rise. His gaze never once fell on Qui-Gon, which only confused the Jedi Master further. Finally, not knowing what else to do, Qui-Gon reached out along the remnants of their training bond to see for himself if what his eyes told him was real.

It was real.

If he hadn't already been kneeling, he would have fallen. As it was, he swayed and caught himself with one hand against the moist ground. Obi-Wan! his mind screamed, and it was accompanied with a rush of emotion that left him dizzy. And still Obi-Wan refused to look at him.

"Arbiter." Obi-Wan bowed low from the waist and raised his curled hand to his forehead in the ritual Aynarin salute to one's superior. His voice was cool and modulated, as if he had no emotional interest whatsoever in the proceedings that were transpiring here. The sound of that beloved voice was almost too much for Qui-Gon, and he stared up at his former padawan with tears brimming in his eyes. It had been so long...

The Arbiter regarded the newcomer in silence for an interminable moment, then nodded fractionally. "I will hear you."

Obi-Wan straightened, and now his gaze did flicker to take in Qui-Gon where he knelt beside him, the barest acknowledgment of his presence. "May I ask what crime this one has committed, that is worthy of an execution?"

Again, his voice was completely emotionless, and the sound of his former lover discussing his death in such dispassionate terms made Qui-Gon feel sick to his stomach. Whatever miracle was responsible for Obi-Wan coming to be here obviously did not stretch to include the healing of the rift that had grown between them.

"He has knowingly trespassed on holy ground," the Arbiter explained. "The punishment for this crime is death, as it has always been among my people."

Obi-Wan's eyes narrowed, and Qui-Gon was heartened to think that this was perhaps evidence of the faintest stirring of emotion inside of him. "With your permission, Arbiter, I would like to claim bond-right over this man."

A murmur rose among the heretofore silent watchers ringed around the clearing. Qui-Gon blinked in puzzlement, wondering what his former padawan was up to.

The Arbiter seemed to consider for a moment. "You are not a warrior of our tribe," he said at last.

"Neither is he," Obi-Wan returned shortly.

There was another interminable moment of silence, and then the Arbiter nodded. "I accept your claim to bond-right, warrior to warrior. May the True Way guide you in your conquests so that your enemies fall like leaves before you." His voice lost some of its formal tone as he added, "I ask you both to leave our village as soon as you are able."

Obi-Wan bowed again. "I thank you, Arbiter," he said formally.

To Qui-Gon's surprise, that seemed to end the matter. The Arbiter turned and started to make his way down the hill, followed closely by his attendants. Even the guards were leaving, until only Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan were left alone on top of the hill.

The breeze seemed unaccountably chill as it soughed past them, and Qui-Gon shivered inside the thin covering of his white robe. He felt afraid suddenly, and his gaze dropped heavily to the drift of the pastel grass in front of his knees. Angrily, he shoved the fear aside.

"Thank you," he said, and he was impressed by the fact that his voice didn't shiver in the least when he said it.

Obi-Wan snorted indelicately. "Get up, Qui-Gon. I think you've overstayed your welcome in this place."

Feeling as if he were moving in a dream, Qui-Gon obeyed. "What are you doing here?" he asked, gathering the edges of his robe tightly around him.

"Master Yoda seemed to think that you had this damn fool idea to get yourself killed by coming here, so he sent me to come after you. And of course you didn't research the customs of this tribe too closely, now did you? That way you could claim ignorance about their taboos and convince yourself that it really wasn't suicide when you let them execute you."

Qui-Gon cringed from the scathing reproach in those words. Holding on to what remained of his composure, he said, "I still don't understand why they just let me go."

For the first time, Obi-Wan met his gaze. There was a glint of dark amusement in those beautiful grey-green eyes. "I seem to have done somewhat more research than you have. By Aynarin law, the price of breaking one of their religious decrees is the life of the offender. Traditionally, this means death, but it is not uncommon for a warrior of the tribe to take on the prisoner as bond-slave instead. That way the prisoner's life is still sacrificed to the god, only it is spent in service instead of in death."

Qui-Gon's mind whirled at the implications of this. "So when he agreed to release me..."

"The Arbiter essentially gave you to me as a slave." There was humor in Obi-Wan's voice, and there was a disturbing cast to his shadowed eyes that Qui-Gon could almost think of as dangerous.

Suddenly feeling the weight of the years that had separated them, Qui-Gon said, "Obi-Wan-"

But Obi-Wan anticipated him. "Not here, Qui-Gon. Just ... not now." And with that, he turned on his heel and began to make his way down the hill, as if he didn't have a care in all the galaxy whether Qui-Gon chose to follow him or not. There was a small transport waiting for them just outside the wall of the village. Obi-Wan tapped a hasty code into the panel next to the loading ramp, and the doorway slid open for them. Without looking back to see if Qui-Gon was there, he pulled himself up to the narrow opening and disappeared inside.

Casting a final look at the softly hung rushes of the trees around him, Qui-Gon followed. Obi-Wan was already well into performing the pre-flight checks, and it was only a matter of minutes before their small craft was lifting up off of the ground and arrowing its way up through Mynara's atmosphere.

Qui-Gon sat quietly in an out-of-the-way spot, and Obi-Wan did not so much as look at him until the stars in front of them bled into the even white fields of hyperspace. Then Obi-Wan turned from the pilot's console in front of him and knuckled tiredly at his eyes, letting out his breath in a heavy sigh.

"All right, Qui-Gon," he said. "Why'd you do it?"

Qui-Gon stared at him, seeing for a moment a second image as if it were superimposed over the confident young Knight he saw before him. This Obi-Wan still had his padawan braid hanging down over his right shoulder, and his eyes were filled with absolute love and trust, not this coldly guarded suspicion that the present Obi-Wan was regarding him with. The sudden knowledge of what he had lost - what he had thrown away - made Qui-Gon's stomach clench in helpless misery.

He let none of his internal struggle show on his face, however. Dropping his gaze to the deckplates under his feet, he said only,

"Even Jedi Masters are not immune to fear, Obi-Wan."

"And what exactly are you afraid of?"

Obi-Wan's tone had softened, and Qui-Gon looked up in surprise. His former padawan was regarding him with open curiosity now, as if he were truly trying to understand what had driven his one- time Master to this course of action.

Qui-Gon met that openly questioning gaze and found that he had no answer. At least none that would make sense to this man. Perhaps not even one that would make sense to himself.

"The truth, Qui-Gon," Obi-Wan said sharply, when he sensed Qui- Gon's reluctance to share his feelings.

"I don't have an answer for you, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said, shaking his head and letting his gaze fall away again.

There was another long moment of silence before Obi-Wan replied. "Of course not," he said, and the mildness of his tone contrasted harshly with the words as he spoke them. "You always have to be the perfect Jedi Master, don't you? Force save us if you actually have to show that you have feelings like the rest of us. You'll handle this like you've handled everything in your life. Alone." His voice shook on the last word, and he turned his head sharply away.

Qui-Gon shivered under the coldness of the younger man's tone. "I never meant to hurt you, Obi-Wan."

"Of course you didn't." Obi-Wan swiped the back of one hand across his eyes, refusing to turn back and look at his former Master. His gaze focused unwaveringly on the uncomfortable shimmer of the starlines outside the front viewport. "Of course you never meant to hurt me. I'm the one who seduced you, remember?"

Qui-Gon shook his head in sudden pain. "Obi-Wan-"

Obi-Wan continued talking as if he hadn't spoken. "But you're the one who used me." The tremor in his voice hinted that these were words that had been kept in check for a very long time, and they seemed to spill from him beyond his ability to hold them in.

"I was never anything more to you than a convenient hole to fuck, and I loved you so much that I just didn't care. I didn't care, Qui-Gon. But then, after I passed my Trials, you just threw me away. And that was when I realized that I really hadn't ever meant anything to you."

"Is that what you really think?" Qui-Gon's voice was soft.

The look Obi-Wan turned on him was full of thinly concealed animosity. "What would you have me think, Qui-Gon?" he asked quietly.

Qui-Gon hesitated as a thousand possible responses flashed through his mind, all of them geared toward easing the hurt of this wounded young man while still preserving the shell of privacy that Qui-Gon had erected around his own emotions all those years ago. The pain in his former padawan's eyes was scathing, and the knowledge that he had been the one to put it there was bitter in his heart.

"I love you," he said at last, and the words seemed to be pulled from him as if they were being carried from him against his conscious will.

Obi-Wan's expression turned incredulous. "What?"

And Qui-Gon knew that there was no more room for vacillation. No matter what the consequences to either of them, Obi-Wan deserved to know the truth. "I love you," he said again, enjoying for a moment the freedom of being able to say the words aloud. He could not meet his former padawan's eyes. "It seems I've always loved you, and it terrifies me. I've never ... needed anyone before. Not like this. Not like they were part of my own soul."

Silence hung in the air between them for an endless moment. Then

Obi-Wan said, "Why didn't you ever tell me?"

Qui-Gon shivered, pulling his robe tighter around him. "I was scared, Obi-Wan. When you came to me that night, telling me that you loved me... All I could think was that if I opened myself up to you, and then someday lost you, it would kill me. It would kill me. So I built up these walls around my love for you and thought I was keeping that part of me safe, but it wasn't enough. Somehow, you broke through anyway."

"Why did you send me away after I was Knighted?" The lack of inflection in Obi-Wan's voice was somehow worse than his anger of a few moments ago.

Qui-Gon winced. "I believed I was holding you back. That by allowing you to bind yourself to me, I was depriving you of possible joys in the future. I am an old man, Obi-Wan. And you are so beautiful. So driven. Who was to say that you wouldn't find another love in the future at some point, and regret that you had bound yourself to me at such a young age?"

"You didn't do it for me." Obi-Wan's voice was cold. "You did it for you. You were afraid that I'd fall in love with someone else someday, and you would be left alone."

The sigh that fell from Qui-Gon's lips was pained. "Yes."

"And you didn't think that I was worth the risk."

At that, Qui-Gon's gaze flicked up to meet the steely gaze of the man who had once loved him. "Worth that and more," he said with certainty. "I regret that it's taken me this long to see that. And a part of me truly did fear that you would be missing out on something special by binding to me so young." His smile turned softly melancholic. "And here, four years later, we find you bound to another."

Obi-Wan locked gazes with him for a long moment, as if considering how best to reply. Then, turning his head sharply away, he said, "I never married Therian."

For a moment, Qui-Gon could not comprehend the meaning behind the words. Then their import hit him and he sank back against his chair, the breath falling out of him.

Obi-Wan's smile took on a hard edge. "It didn't end well. It wasn't anyone's fault, really. He left on a mission for Allastaire, and I haven't seen him since. It's been over a year since we've spoken."

Qui-Gon was still trying to grasp the notion that his former padawan was not, after all, bonded to another, and could not think of any words of comfort to offer that would not sound trite. Finally, he settled for, "I'm sorry, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan shrugged. "It wasn't meant to be, Qui-Gon."

Silence again, as stars and space slipped by around them. Then Qui-Gon said, "I wasn't trying to kill myself."

A pause. "What were you trying to do, then?"

Qui-Gon thought about it. "Find myself, maybe. Maybe I wanted to find out if I really wanted to be alive anymore. My life has become so pale recently, so two-dimensional. Like I've just been going through the motions of what everyone expects me to do, without having any emotional stake in it at all. I'd cut myself so far off from my emotions that I didn't think I could feel anything anymore."

"And what did you find out?" Obi-Wan asked the question reluctantly, as if he were afraid to hear the answer. "There at the end, Qui-Gon. What did you decide?"

For the first time, Qui-Gon replayed the events leading up to his execution in his mind. Shivering lightly, he said, "I felt free. It felt completely inevitable that I was going to die, and ... I felt free. I enjoyed not having the choice to make anymore. Not having to make the struggle."

"And if you did have the choice to make?" The question was tentative.

Qui-Gon hesitated, wondering just how much of his soul he dared to bare here. However, his trials on Mynara had taught him that difficult experiences were easiest to face when he gave up all pretenses at control.

"I would do things differently," he said simply, and hoped that Obi-Wan would read the double meaning of his words.

Obi-Wan's gaze darkened, and Qui-Gon was distressed to see tears glimmering there. "I spent so many years trying to hate you," Obi-Wan said softly. "Trying to convince myself that you had never really meant anything to me. But I knew it was a lie. I think that's why I asked you to officiate at my bonding ceremony - I wanted to make you jealous. I wanted to provoke some reaction out of you. But I would have had more luck trying to force an emotional reaction out of a stone wall."

Qui-Gon was touched deeply by the sorrow in the younger man's voice. "I'm sorry," he said quietly, knowing that it could not possibly be enough. "I'm so sorry, Obi-Wan." And then, without realizing what he intended until the action had been made, he stood and crossed over to kneel in front of Obi-Wan's chair. Bowing his head in a gesture of submission, he said, "Forgive me." The words were the barest ghost of a whisper past his lips.

After a moment, Obi-Wan's hand moved to touch the fall of silvered hair lying across his former Master's white-robed shoulder. The silence between them deepened, and Qui-Gon began to despair that there would be no mending of the schism between them. If that was the case, he told himself fiercely, then he would accept Obi-Wan's decision. Some wounds could not be healed.

Then Obi-Wan's hand fisted almost to the point of pain in Qui- Gon's hair, and he bent to rest his forehead against the top of the Jedi Master's head. "Mine," he whispered, and his breath was warm as it wafted down across Qui-Gon's face. "My bond-slave. You belong to me now."

Qui-Gon nuzzled upward until his eyes met the tear-filled gaze of his former padawan, just a couple of inches away. "Yours," he agreed without hesitation. And then, throwing the last of his fears aside with the last clinging remnants of his need for control, he added, "For as long as you want me."

Obi-Wan's sigh sounded suspiciously close to a sob as he dipped to brush his lips against Qui-Gon's. Qui-Gon returned the kiss with joyful surrender, his heart pounding in frantic abandon as he contemplated the risks of the path he had just chosen to take.

But like all paths, the possible risks were matched only by the potential for reward.

LATER

The sound of joyous birdsong mingled with the low splash of the fountains in the renowned Garden of Light, located at the heart of the Jedi Temple. The stirrings of Force were strong in this place, carried on the currents of the air as if it were a physical presence here. Sunlight fell through the beveled netting which covered the open-roofed chamber, filling the garden with pools of golden light and sharp-edged shadows.

Qui-Gon stood unmoving before the largest of the fountains, smiling against the cool spray that the breeze blew haphazardly against his face. Glancing to the side, he met the radiant gaze of his former apprentice.

Obi-Wan looked stunning in his formal white attire, which was curiously reminiscent of the uniform he had worn as a padawan. White flowers were woven together into a floral crown over his head, twin to the one that Qui-Gon himself wore. Smiling softly, Obi-Wan's hand found Qui-Gon's and twined their fingers together.

Qui-Gon felt his heart melt at the love he saw in those shining blue eyes.

"Do you, Qui-Gon Jinn, take Obi-Wan Kenobi as bond-mate and husband, joining both soul and heart together in love, as the Force has seen fit to guide you?" Mace Windu's voice had lost the edge of stern solemnity that usually graced it, and his dark face was softened by a smile as he regarded the two lovers before him.

Qui-Gon's eyes never left Obi-Wan's face. "I do," he said, without hesitation. Obi-Wan's fingers tightened around his hand, and a ghost of a smile rose up to meet him.

"And do you, Obi-Wan Kenobi, take Qui-Gon Jinn as your bond-mate and husband, joined together in life and love, as the Force has seen fit to guide you?"

Obi-Wan's smile grew more pronounced as he replied solemnly, "I do." The sheer happiness in his gaze rivaled the sun for brightness.

Mace bowed to them. "Then it is my honor and pleasure to perform this duty to your union, and pronounce you bond-mated before these your peers." He smiled, breaking the monotony of the formal words. "May the Force be with you both."

A ragged cheer rose up from the assembled guests ranged around the garden, and Qui-Gon took both of Obi-Wan's hands in his own as he bent to kiss the lips that were being proffered so gleefully for his consumption. His eyes closed as the warm lengths of their bodies pressed together, arms moving around each other without thought as their tongues met in a delicate dance of joy and promise.

Qui-Gon's arm remained around Obi-Wan's shoulders as they finally broke apart and turned to face the assembled crowd. He met Yoda's knowing gaze and smiled ruefully, acknowledging the aged Master's part in bringing the two of them together. Obi-Wan's presence was warm and promising at his side.

Sharing a last tender glance between them, the two bond-mates moved down from the dais to meet their future together.

The End
4/18/00