Destinies Diverge

by Sian (Sian1359@yahoo.com)

**********

Despite Obi-Wan's misgivings about Jerom, Qui-Gon suggested they should at least be thankful that the racer's reputation -- either reputation -- meant fans everywhere, including some in Tatooine's Space Control. Initial scans showed an impressive number of ships in orbit and on the surface, so many that Qui-Gon had doubted they'd be able to find a place they could even land, much less afford. But in hearing that Jerom CuWil was in orbit, Space Control had sent them directly to Mos Espa, the town closest to the stadium to be used for the races, and to one of the last reserved berths.

Now they would have to hope it was near here that Xanatos' ship had crashed, though no evidence of any recent accident showed up on any of their scans over the planet's surface.

Qui-Gon lost himself in watching his Padawan ease the ship into the covered hanger. Even lockdown procedures held more allure than reassurances for their safety; each of Obi-Wan's moves were elegant, arousing until Qui-Gon feared they would need schedule yet another delay.

No, Jedi first.

Even if he didn't have his training and code to fall back on, Qui-Gon soon had plenty to distract him from Obi-Wan's visual enticements. Rising tension was detectable, and not only from Obi-Wan. A wrongness had quickly settled over their ship as they had landed. Not so much a shadow of darkness or a warning to be mindful of future potentials, but to Qui-Gon it was a pervasive disquiet that pulsed at the edge of his senses. It felt like becoming aware of an illness in someone, but they had not disembarked yet, and this didn't involve just one person. It was almost as if the illness lay in the entire planet's Living Force. But then, for any territory under Hutt control, this could be true.

The Hutts own pleasures were base and seeped in pain and subjugation, bringing a false happiness at best, even to themselves. More like an addiction than an enjoyment, and something they infected others with just their presence.

Damn, but Eeth had been right to suggest Obi-Wan stay home. Already they needed to set strong shields against anyone who might be able to tell they were Jedi. These shields also kept the two from drawing comfort from the other through their bond, leaving Qui-Gon to only imagine how the aura of the planet and its enslaved people was affecting Obi-Wan. No fee to Jerom for not racing would be too big, if that meant finding Xan and departing as quickly as possible.

At least Qui-Gon would not need the same type of trick he'd used on Haven to find Obi-Wan here to find Xan. Tatooine's overall population was much smaller than Haven's, though spread out over a significantly larger distance. And even with Xan disguising that he was Jedi, even with shields on the par of what he and Obi-Wan needed maintain, Qui-Gon knew Xan's mind and Force signature almost as well as he knew Master Yoda's. Or his own.

Already he had been able to confirm his former Padawan was still here on Tatooine. Given better opportunity to move around while they interacted with Jerom's peers and fans later in the evening, Qui-Gon would be able to tell the relative direction and distance they were apart, too, even if Xanatos had been identified, captured and placed in a suppression collar. Nothing could block that most basic link that existed between every Master and Padawan. Even a former Padawan. Not time, distance or changed circumstances other than death (and not always even then).

So the Hutts had found out when they had held onto Obi-Wan. Although it had taken time, Master a'Thuul had always known Obi-Wan was alive and so had started hunting. Then brought with him the full might of the Jedi when he had finally found the planet his Padawan was being held on, and the Order had exacted a justice the Hutts still feared and thought to prevent from happening again through their offer of bounty.

Only a Jedi could sever that link. Or a Sith. And while the first would only rarely ever have reason to do so, the second couldn't, since the Sith had died out long, long millennia ago. Not even a Dark Jedi like Obi-Wan's Chagrian six years ago had been able to undo the tie between Obi-Wan and his Master. The power necessary required the user to be fully in tune with the Force. The Sith, while embracing the Dark, did so just as fully as a Jedi served the Light. But a Dark Jedi straddled both worlds, and certain precepts once learned, still held sway over a fallen Jedi whether they wanted it so or not. No Dark Jedi had ever been able to completely be embraced by the Dark as they had once willingly embraced the Light.

**********

Xanatos never expected to be happy about crashing on Tatooine, but there was something to be said about a planet that did not cater to families. Children.

Even if he was more looking for a light side to a dark situation.

He wouldn't have allowed Amidala or Anakin to join him anyway, but it had made his life easier to exclude them since they would be too young to be allowed where he was going. And just as unwelcome by him at this point, although Xanatos did manage to refrain from yelling that at them.

Barely.

His displeasure wasn't really their fault; well, not completely. Anakin had every right to be angry and scared on his mother's behalf. Even Xanatos hadn't completely understood why the gentle woman had refused to accompany him back to where her son was hidden, so he could well understand Ani's confusion. Unfortunately he could understand that Ani's safety was more important to her than her own. But Xanatos also had a feeling Anakin was in danger even without his mother's presence. And her being there would have at least made Ani more comfortable.

But Shmi Skywalker had insisted, stating it was never a good thing when someone was looking for a slave. And Ani seemed to have at least two sets of people looking. Not to mention Xanatos' potential Jedi rescuers who would be added to the mix in a day or so. With so many different people looking, it was way too easy to be found.

At least if she continued to go about her business as if everything was normal, Shmi had pointed out, those looking for Ani's help in testing their pod racers would simply come back the next day, and not jump to conclusions that she and Anakin were attempting to flee their slavery.

Xanatos tried to explain to Shmi that even though he now held their papers, she and Ani were both free, that Jedi did not keep slaves. So they wouldn't be fleeing. At that she flashed him a look of joy and gratitude that seemed to light her up from within and graphically showed him that she was not as old or worn down by her life as he had first surmised. Following on the heels of that smile, however, Shmi had also shown him that she was highly intelligent and possibly even more stubborn than his former Master.

If she was free, then she didn't have to do what he was suggesting.

"Not that I am ungrateful," she had quickly added in voice of calm reason that would have done any Jedi Master proud. "But you've admitted that you do not have a way off Tatooine yet, good Jedi, and there are too many people here used to knowing I am a slave. There are those who would kill you because you do not act as a Master, so that they can take your place, so even if no one finds out you are Jedi, I do this for your protection. And my son's. When you are ready to leave, if you can, come back for me. Then I will follow. If you cannot return and take Ani to safety, then see to him and know that you have done me the greatest service."

Xanatos had been tempted to simply change her mind but, frankly, was not certain his Force compulsion would work on her. Shmi was, after all, Anakin's mother and had to have some Force sensitivity since her son's was so extensive. Too, he had found that annoying Toydarian immune, and knew the Hutts were quite resistant themselves. Might there be something here in the Outer Rim that made its people less ... tractable? The illegal spice the Hutts had mined on Kessel, perhaps?

But Shmi was no spice addict, nor did she deserve to be so betrayed by someone, even if it might be in her own best interest. She could also be right, and her presence would serve to keep some of those hunting Ani from worrying too much about finding him in a hurry. Unfortunately, even if she was, it didn't guarantee her own safety; the first group was of the shoot first, sort things out later variety. Xanatos did not doubt they would be willing to torture to get the information they needed.

To that end she had even refused to let him tell her where Anakin was hiding, and Xanatos acquiesced without arguing. Her only secret would be that he had Ani, and that he was a Jedi looking for a way off Tatooine. She would not willing give up those secrets and under any form of persuasion she could honestly say she didn't know where her son was and if they had a way to test -- well, drugs rendered the subject truthful, but not forthcoming without the proper question being asked. And answers under torture were always suspect, since the subject would usually say anything to get the torture to stop.

It didn't help Xanatos' conscience to know that she knew all these things as well as he did. And that she was prepared to be left behind and undergo them.

Anakin had not understood. And Xanatos found that he wasn't as immune to a young boy's tears as he had thought, after spending eight years raising a brother.

More than once as he had tried to explain the situation, Xanatos had found himself thinking back not to how he or his own father had handled Devon's tears, but how Qui-Gon had handled his own. Or how Qui-Gon would have handled this situation. Which led Xanatos to even more depression and, eventually, guilt-filled anger. Which had come as a shock not because Jedi were trained against reacting thusly in dicey situations, but because one small boy and a disapproving Princess he hardly knew could so provoke him.

Only fellow Jedi had ever managed to get so under Xanatos' skin. But neither Amidala or Ani were Jedi, and Ani was much too old to begin training in the Jedi ways.

Xanatos had finally managed to calm Anakin down by getting the boy to think about how to help get them passage on a ship so they could get back to his mother more quickly. And by subtly directing Anakin's very active trait of protecting others toward Amidala, since it was obvious the boy was mystified and enchanted by the young Princess when she had stood on his side against a Jedi. He had hoped this might even distract Amidala, but in that had no luck.

Unhappy about how upset Anakin was, about having to stay cooped up in the remains of a dead ship in the middle of a disgusting junkyard and, no doubt, still scared and worried about her own future, not to mention her father's fate, Amidala had vented as only a Princess-born could. Fortunately Xanatos had had plenty of experience in dealing with hysterical females, arrogant royals and their bodyguards.

Spanking had come to mind first, not out of anger but in a stray thought of satisfaction. The thought of using a compulsion on her also sounded damn attractive, but Xanatos didn't want to take a chance she and her guards would react too slow should they be found had he done that, even if it had been an ethical solution to his problem. In the end, he did that which was the simplest.

He gave in.

If she wanted to follow as he checked out the bars and brothels for someone to bargain with, she could. No doubt she'd be roundly ignored, maybe thrown out of some of them, but there would likely be one or two such places who liked young girls ...

Sabe had to know that he would never actually have allowed anything to happen to her Princess even if Amidala did not, but after that she quickly added her own voice to Xanatos' in keeping Amidala there. As, eventually did Panaka.

"So far we have been lucky that any trouble has been overcome without our gallant Jedi having to exhibit his Force abilities, Padme," were Sabe's persuasive words. "At night, and in those environs, the likelihood of trouble would increase, as would the likelihood of him having to use the Force to extract us should we journey with him."

Sabe didn't have to mention that she'd be more comfortable staying here and not have to place any additional strain on her arm. She also simply reminded Amidala that here they had more food, water and better shelter than their earlier roost, but if they left, someone else might come and steal it. Additionally, by being in town, if the need came to change their minds and disregard Xanatos' council, they would have a much better chance of surviving after being rested to find another way home.

So Amidala had allowed herself to be mollified into staying. And made sure Xanatos knew her acquiescence was for Sabe's sake, and Ani's, not his. In her mind Xanatos was proving not to be the bright hero she had thought. At anytime there might be the need to change leadership. And that was a sentiment which the mostly silent Lieutenant Panaka echoed in expression if not voice.

Because Xanatos was still angry at their lack of gratitude -- or at least an understanding of what he was going through in having responsibility for them -- and because he still wasn't completely sure Amidala or Anakin might not change their minds and start to follow him, he made sure his first couple of stops were, indeed, at the type of establishment the youngsters would dare not enter. At the curtain of his third stop he felt a tingle of something reminiscent of his disquiet at Shmi's. Something not quite prescience, not quite a Force warning, but still something which made his breath and heart-rate quicken.

In most any other circumstance Xanatos would have backed away, at least until he had the chance to track down the source of his unease, but he was keeping his Force senses restrained, unsure of whether he might run into one of the Hutt's Force sensitive finders. The less he did to call attention to himself in the Force, the more likely he'd get them all out of this safely.

And he didn't want to walk away completely. Everything he had heard so far this night had said this was the place to be. Not just a bar or a brothel, the Dewback was where all of the renowned racers were likely to be tonight. Xanatos doubted he'd find a suitable candidate amongst them to get his people off Tatooine, but this, too, would be where their fans were, as the party was not private. The serious fans who followed the racing circuit preferred to do so directly instead of relying on transmissions, and they traveled to as many of the races they could afford. Which meant that there would be as many privately owned ships out in the berths as there were guild charters. If he was ever to find someone he could convince one way or the other to assist them, it would be here.

The party was well underway by the time Xanatos entered. Although a band played against one of the walls, no one was really dancing, or at least not to their music; due to the amount of bodies and the amount of liquor being poured and consumed, no one was paying attention to the band. Overwhelmed, Xan was also a little impressed by the sheer volume of noise being produced by a remarkable number of different kinds of folk.

As an adult Jedi he had interacted with many of the races that comprised the Republic, and had studied about even more. Still, he saw a couple here he did not recognize. But he did recognize some of the racers among the crowd, just as his informant had promised.

Despite the knowledge he had used to get this information, Xanatos was not actually a fan of the racing circuit. His brother, on the other hand, had been, and hosting one of the events was considered a thing to do for young planetary rulers. And so Telos had hosted a similar event several years back but, the underage King's enthusiasm aside, it would be unlikely to happen again until many years after Devon's majority. The flamboyant racers, their patrons and their fans had not mixed well with the relatively natural state of the Telosian countryside, nor with the fiercely protective, if somewhat provincial, natives.

The money had been good, though, boosting the local economy with tourist expenditures, and from legalizing the betting. Only a small portion of the government's percentage had been needed to hire the extra law enforcers whose job was to keep on eye on the illegal gambling and other unpleasant diversions that had followed the crowd. And that much again was all that had been needed to pay for damages and outrages, leaving quite a nice sum to be turned into further improvements and restorations throughout the countryside. But few felt it had been worth the damage in the first place, including Devon himself, after the allure had left along with his tarnished heroes.

Xanatos' sense of something extraordinary looming in his future spiked as he came down the steps and out of the growing coolness of a desert night. He studied the room as best as he could without relying on the Force, noting immediately that save for a few windows also curtained with the same type of heavy cloth to keep out the sand as was hanging from the entry, no other obvious or visible exits existed. He supposed there were more anyway. Although more than twice the size of the council chamber back on Coruscant, this building was still larger than the room he studied would lead one to believe. A couple of additional backrooms then, and storage. Maybe even a kitchen since food did seem to be being served in addition to the varied liquors. Egress from these areas often took place underground, since that was the cheapest way to combat the oppressive heat from Tatooine's two suns. Somewhere there would also be stairs.

The next thing Xanatos noted was a feeling of not wanting to get caught up in a fight within this room. Even if he could have used his lightsaber without fear of drawing the wrong kind of attention from every bounty hunter here in the Outer Rim, he still wouldn't have been able to wield it out of fear of cutting the wrong person, as they were crowded shoulder to shoulder, at least here in the front. Blaster fire would be little better, as several reflective shields had been built directly into the walls and columns, not to mention how many people were using personal screens. By the angles of the permanent shields, the owners didn't seem to mind their patrons being hit -- or worse -- just as long as little permanent damage got done to the structure.

Unfortunately, a fight seemed inevitable given the nature of the clientele. The only trick for him would be to avoid it. Xanatos pretty much expected everyone here to be armed, and from what he could already see he had been right. The blaster Panaka had given him fit in quite well, as did the few minor touches he'd added to his clothing and Amidala had added to his jewelry. Already he was being eyed as a potential mark, prey or challenge. But not as a Jedi.

Not even as the former regent of Telos, which he had to thank the Force and their foresight to change his appearance. Xanatos hadn't even thought about being recognized by any of the riders his brother had entertained some four years ago. On the other hand, he had spent most of that week following Qui-Gon as his then Master was no more fond of the event than he had been so it would be unlikely he'd be known.

He and Qui-Gon had stayed out in the countryside with the intent to head off any further disruptions as had happened on the very first day. And their only contact with outsiders had ended with said outsiders either being immediately deported, arrested or dead.

Shaking his head at how, even out here in the middle of nowhere, his thoughts kept returning to his former Master, Xanatos angrily moved through the crowd and up to the bar. If he had been using the Force he could have managed it without bumping into anyone, but his mood and the environment made just the opposite more desirable. Arrogance and belligerence was the way of life with these brutal savages, along with not caring. By not apologizing, his attitude and expression went a long way to helping him retain his cover persona. There were a few folks he avoided anyway, several being too much larger or bristling with weapons. Xanatos still acquitted himself as one of the most dangerous present, and let that confidence show on his face as well.

His first drink was as nasty as the female ... something or other, who tried to serve herself along with it. At least Xanatos supposed it was female. It seemed to have impressive mammary glands and little else of sex organs visible, although just about every inch of greenish flesh was. Xanatos fended her off with a haughty sniff, then had to do the same to a pair of Bothan twins. They were obviously male, and obviously interested in more than just making Xanatos' acquaintance. After only a few more minutes, Xanatos realized he'd need more than just a look of supreme disinterest to dissuade a portion of the crowd. He would either need to find someone that could serve to help discourage competition, or find some sort of game to get involved in. Otherwise, he'd be fending off advances all of the rest of the night.

The games seemed the better choice, and he spied several larger tables towards the back of the room that had players and attendants. Sabacc, he supposed. And Fargo. Maybe even Pyramid and some dice games. Nothing electronic was visible, and none of the dealers were droids. Xanatos doubted those things which were so popular back in the Inner Rim would find the same acceptance out here in a place where no one trusted even their best friend not to cheat, even if the electronics could have held up in the perpetual heat and sand, which they did not. Cheating was still likely with just cards, dice or bones, but the cheater would have to have skill. Which could at least be respected over losing to machines or droids that were rigged.

Like racing, Xanatos wasn't particularly fond of games of chance, but he knew how to play most of them. More than once such knowledge had led he and Qui-Gon to sources of information they could not have obtained any other way. It was just that when he wasn't playing against a fellow Jedi, it seemed like cheating even when he wasn't using the Force or reading its currents. And proved to be unenjoyable.

Here, at least his motivations were honorable even if he did have an advantage. If he got involved in one, he was much more likely to avoid pulling someone's arm off as so many kept trailing their fingers through his disconcertingly long hair. He should have braided or tied it further, even if both Sabe and Amidala had insisted he wear most of it straight.

He'd be more likely able to hold a real conversation back here at one of the tables, too, thus able to begin to make a proper connection. Or if he didn't, he could always just win. This would be a place where even ships were wagered, though probably more during the actual races themselves than in the diversions offered prior to the opening day. Money or a ship, either would get him a step closer to home.

When had he decided help from the Jedi would not be forthcoming?

With that to add to his disquiet, Xanatos moved away at the last moment from the Fargo table. The young dealer had the look of being connected to the House, and there was also something about the starkly-white skinned woman that set his teeth on edge even if there was also a hint of familiarity. Those feelings intensified when they made eye contact. She might have the face of an angel, but her eyes said demon, and even without being able to view it through the Force, her aura screamed danger. Against her, Xanatos feared he would lose more than just his money.

He didn't need any more complications to his current situation, not even intriguing ones.

The next two tables held Sabacc players, several of them being some of the racers. A thin crowd of fans and patrons ringed the tables, some of them caring more about the general play than they did the fortunes of their favorites. Wager were being placed. Xanatos approached without needing to fight through too much of a throng, but found no empty seat once he had done so. He watched for a few minutes anyway to get the feel of the players, and realized it would be only a few more minutes before someone would be leaving. The amounts being bet would clean almost anyone out of money after only a few hands were they losing. Including himself.

Maybe he would do better at yet another table.

In spite of that thought, Xanatos found himself staying. Watching. Here the crowd was more human and, overall, younger, as racers had taken three of the nine seats. Not that there weren't a few older men watching. Or playing. You could practically smell the lusts being fantasized or indulged in around this table. Even Xanatos found his attention returning more than once to the face of one young racer, and the profile of another. It was only as he realized his own lusts were rising that Xanatos managed to pull his eyes away and think again about finding another table.

Or at least another drink to distract himself.

A temporary bar had been set back here so the player didn't have to lose their seat or fight their way through their admirers, though it still had its own cluster of attendants. With this new drink, Xanatos figured he'd have enough to offer Amidala the proof of his dereliction she had accused him of wanting. After all, someone so sure of herself deserved to have her expectations come true.

Damn, but he was in a difficult mood tonight! If he didn't get his temper under control, he might as well just call it a night and go back. Before he got into trouble without the Hutts.

Knowing everything served back here would contain some form of alcohol, Xanatos didn't even ask for something else, though he did choose a milder drink this time than he had his first.

Release, not add to his anger. Control, not lack of control over his action and thoughts. Distract himself.

At least from the bar, he had better opportunity to study the two racers who had caught his eye. Being here had also put another player in profile that might have interested him at another time, even though this new gambler seemed older than the first two, other than even himself by a few years.

Terrific. A chancy temper, and lonely. Or at least horny. Xanatos was definitely not feeling at his Jedi best.

Just as he found himself wishing a seat would open up so he might get a closer look at the three men, one did. Unfortunately, it belonged to that third, older man who, as he had shoved his chips over to the dealer to cash out, gave a kiss to the player on his right. Wonderful, at least two of his three distractions were already involved. Which altered the attractiveness of joining in at that table, even if opportunity was knocking.

Mentally kicking himself to have even hesitated, Xanatos started forward anyway. He was here to find a way off Tatooine, not a reason to stay! And while he might be willing to risk the Princess' temper by taking his time, he could not so risk her safety. But as he moved to signal he would take the available seat, Xanatos suddenly froze. The third man finally pulled away from kissing the second, turning and shoving back the curtain of hair that had kept his face hidden as it moved from profile to full.

Qui-Gon Jinn.

His former Master who hated motor racing, desert climates and public displays of affection. Who had only a month ago proposed that Xanatos and he formally take vows and spend the rest of their lives together as Jedi, and as men in love. Who was here on brutally hot Tatooine in the company of one of the racers. Who was kissing one of the racers with an intensity that could not just be artifice.

Betrayal, jealousy, shock, anger. So many emotions raced through Xanatos' brain before common sense, logic and prudence helped him regain control.

Of course, as he had already decided no Jedi was forthcoming to help, one not only showed up but was earlier than could be expected and, despite appearances, had to be here for him. The only Jedi he didn't want to see, the only one he couldn't end up beholden to.

Qui-Gon Jinn.

If he didn't know any better, Xanatos would have said the Force was testing him. Or perhaps, just laughing.

The kiss didn't have to mean anything, he supposed. Qui-Gon would have needed some form of protective cover just as Xanatos had, to remain unidentified as a Jedi. And slobbering all over a young -- very young -- racer would certainly augment his former Master's role as someone not Jedi. But did the racer know it was play-acting? Not from the look he had given Qui-Gon when they had parted; no one was that good of an actor.

Xanatos couldn't help himself from opening up to the Force just a little, despite the danger it might prove to himself. It wasn't as if he was going to do a full scan of all the people. Just a quick check along the bond he and Qui-Gon still shared, though six months dormant.

If his mind's eye could have been blinded, it would have. Overlaying his link with Qui-Gon was another, a bond that should only be possible between two Jedi. The type of bond his Master had proposed they try and form just over two weeks ago, and a connection stronger than suspected it ever could formed between them even if Xanatos had not denied it.

Qui-Gon had not yet noticed him, didn't seem likely aware of anyone other than his pretty little racer. Xanatos moved back into the depths of the crowd around the temporary bar before that could change. While he had no intention of turning down the help those two represented, for just an instant he still had to stop himself from just walking away. If nothing else, Xanatos wanted to surprise Qui-Gon as badly as Qui-Gon had surprised him.

He knew he didn't have any right to feel jealous or betrayed, even if those also weren't emotions Master Yoda constantly harped about leading to the Dark Side. Xanatos had given up any rights to such feelings when he had walked out on his former Master during that first day of their reunion on Onyx. He had not yet been ready to come back under the influence of Qui-Gon's unconscious yet overwhelming presence. He had not yet felt he had regained a proper measure of self and independence within the Order after their long association as Master and Padawan. Xan and Qui-Gon had left for Telos in that relationship, and while he had returned to Coruscant a Knight, it had been without any of the contact in the intervening years to make the change convincing to the other Jedi.

Xanatos supposed he shouldn't have been surprised at Qui-Gon's declaration of love on that day. They had always been close, and he had known about his Master's feelings for him for several years. What they had not known had been his own feelings for Qui-Gon, those which he had not been honest enough to admit over those same years. Never had he discouraged his Master's feelings, out of a fear that there might not be someone else who would love him just as truly. Xanatos had convinced himself they were both content in Qui-Gon's silence and with their relationship basically stagnating, when he should have known instead, that his Master was only awaiting his Padawan's step into Knighthood before breaking the silence.

So, surprised, scared and just a little bit angry that yet one more thing was not turning out to be as he had expected/wanted, Xanatos had said no. And had simply walked away without trying to come to terms with either of their feelings.

Leaving Xanatos with doubts now.

There was no denying he still found the man attractive. Even when unaware it was Qui-Gon, there had been something about that noble profile that had called to his eye. And seeing him out of his Jedi robes and wearing clothes that served to emphasize and enhance his bearing was a guilty pleasure all in itself. Although Xanatos had rarely worn his own robes while acting as his brother's regent, Qui-Gon had never let them forget that they were there in duty to the Order and not to Telos, and so had constantly dressed the part as well as acted it. Xanatos could not remember Qui-Gon ever before dressing to indulge an enjoyment of texture or color, or with an awareness that others might have liked to see him displayed as he was now. Of course, until actually seeing this carefree image, Xanatos had never really thought about what he might have been missing.

Surely it was just basic human lust and jealousy fueling this desire, though? Qui-Gon had always been attractive, had changed so little in appearance over the years that Xanatos could still see him with a boy's eye as well as a man's, even in this hard-edged, unidentifiable military uniform. He could still feel all of the awe, respect and gratitude that he had been picked a Padawan by this man, while at the same time he could see the image that had kept the Telosian courtiers in such a frenzy as they tried to outdo themselves in attracting Qui-Gon's affections.

If he truly examined his thoughts of that time, Xanatos could now see that he had held onto a certain smugness in knowing his Master would never have indulged in such a dalliance because of their own relationship. Because of Qui-Gon's deeper feelings for him. And he could see it was more the power he had over Qui-Gon's life that he had found attractive, not the love. Just as the betrayal he now felt stemmed from jealousy in being so easily replaced. He still did not feel love. Just the jealousy, along with affection and respect. The latter two of which, at last, he could also hope would never fade.

There was also the smallest chance that his jealousy in seeing Qui-Gon with that comely young man was from him being with Qui-Gon, and not the reverse. It had been the youth he had actually noticed -- and wanted -- first, after all.

Indeed, the Force was laughing tonight.

Chapter Seven

They were fortunate that Obi-Wan enjoyed playing Sabacc well enough, it was either play cards well into the morning or indulge in other group pastimes that neither of them had any desire to participate in, if he was to convince people he was Jerom CuWil while Qui-Gon took the opportunity to begin to triangulate on Xanatos' relative position. Qui-Gon had originally worried that they might need spend too much of the Order's money to continue avoiding the alternative, but both of them had played well and with luck on their side. Having Qui-Gon control the money helped foster his presence as Jerom's patron, just as getting up now from the game would show his trust and confidence that Jerom would continue doing so well on his own.

Not that he planned to go far. Or be away for too long.

Even if his gestures were interpreted as a reward from an indulgent lover, Qui-Gon didn't want to leave Obi-Wan alone amongst the predators. He knew Obi-Wan could handle himself, that his possessiveness was working about as well as Obi-Wan's interest in the card game, in turning the expectations of the others as to what their Jerom might choose to do next. Nothing seemed successful in stopping the offers to entice Obi-Wan -- Jerom -- away to different diversions.

From the moment they had disembarked from Saesee Tiin's small cruiser, people had been caressing or kissing the young Jedi they thought was Jerom CuWil, and were doing their best to ignore the brooding presence of the shadow introduced only as Quinn. In this, the real Jerom had shaded the truth; he was obviously more than just the wanton hedonist he had portrayed himself as. Some form of extreme behavior would be needed for Obi-Wan to maintain his credibility in the role.

Even while dampening their use of the Force, the two Jedi could sense from some of the regulars on the circuit, that Jerom had had the morals and libido of a pleasure boy, and little discrimination to the quantity of partners. Either in numerous single assignations, or with a multitude all at once. So far his own presence allowed Obi-Wan to exercise some restraint in who he would allow close. And how far he would let them go. But that seemed only to be raising expectations.

Qui-Gon moved only as far as the bar though he didn't bother to pick up another drink. From here he could watch and still intercede should someone get too friendly. And the Jedi Master could finally indulge in a little bit of the jealousy and rage that had been growing within, without fearing to disturb Obi-Wan with those feelings. Since anyone with a reasonable amount of Force sensitivity could feel when telepathy was being used, he and Obi-Wan were completely shielded, even from each other, save for their bonds. All that was left between them was the link similar to that he had with Xanatos; Qui-Gon being able to tell relatively where his Padawan was, and what was his general state of health. At the moment surface thoughts and emotions could pass between them only when they touched.

His retreat wouldn't fool Obi-Wan, of course. Qui-Gon had already reacted more than once to the ... friendliness of the others. Earlier he had even come close to losing control and calling off the impersonation. But intellectual conclusions were one thing, actually feeling the emotions through their bond was another, and something that pretty much demanded acknowledgment and release. By moving away, Obi-Wan could ignore Qui-Gon's jealousy and anger, just as he could ignore Obi-Wan's inner distress and disgust over how he was having to act. And he could maybe get rid of this headache so he could get his mind back on the mission instead of worrying about how their roles would affect one another.

"Isn't he a little young, Master? Or have you shifted from dominant to daddy?"

The words were spoken in a language few here on the Outer Rim would have ever heard before, much less understood. They were couched in the terms of sexual play, just in case someone could translate them, but still Qui-Gon almost gave them away. He had understood them, of course, but had also understood the vile emotions behind the hand suddenly placed on his shoulder. And he couldn't stop the wave of guilt that suddenly swept over him, since those emotions were exactly as he had foreseen. And feared.

Now was neither the time or place to indulge in such guilt, however, even if it was honestly come by.

"You were the one who made it plain I should move on, Xani," he growled back in the same language, in the same manner and form. Qui-Gon would be damned by a Sith should he have made Obi-Wan endure what had already come to pass, just to have a Jedi Master give away their deception with a careless word. Even if it meant playing such a bitter game with Xanatos.

"And jealousy is a most unbecoming trait for a man such as yourself." Only now did Qui-Gon turn to see if his former Padawan's expression matched the mocking words and tone. His own expression and tone exhibited cold disinterest, but in his shock, he found he needed a bit of his Jedi Masterly control to maintain the facade.

Had he been across the room, Qui-Gon was not sure he would have recognized his former Padawan. Never had Xanatos looked so ... decadent. While not dressed as revealing as was Obi-Wan, Xanatos still conveyed an attitude that was quite out of keeping with his former Padawan's exacting conduct. It was as perfect a fit to their current surroundings as was Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon's own roles.

Long, long hair draped well below his hips. That and the jewelry were almost as disconcerting as the scar adorning one of Xanatos' cheeks -- a real scar that had to be recent for all that it looked old and long healed. It was as if this was a darker twin of Xanatos that stood before him, the type of man Xani might have become had he stayed his father's son instead of becoming Jedi.

For an instant, visions flashed through both of their minds of what the future would have been had that come to pass.

Xanatos' face instantly fell into lines of contriteness that had little to do with, yet still enhanced the roles they needed to play as their exchange had attracted outside interest. His distress looked enough like fear to fulfilled the expectations of their audience wonderfully. Qui-Gon's own effort to banish the visions was masked by a hardening expression that could be interpreted as a demand for even more submission, and Xanatos immediately dropped and bent over his knees in a penitent position he had only ever needed take twice as Qui-Gon's Padawan.

"Forgive me Master," came the words now in Republic standard. "Might there be a place in your heart and home for more than your current favorite?"

Qui-Gon was not the only one to look back toward Obi-Wan, to suddenly visualize Xanatos and Obi-Wan together, dark intertwining with light, but now there were too many people between them for Qui-Gon to see the table he had walked away from. And in his concern to keep to their roles, yet still convey to Xanatos that he was here as Xan's way off Tatooine, Qui-Gon did not initially notice when someone decided his new distraction meant an opportunity elsewhere.

Xanatos only began to rise when Qui-Gon shifted the toe of his boot under his former Padawan's chin. Like the others who didn't know they were simply acting, the Jedi Master had been expecting the now revealed look of fearful abasement, and knew it would be acceptable within his public persona to acknowledge the look with one of indulgence. Along with agreeing to take Xani back.

Before he could say anything, however, Xanatos' eyes flashed concern and he gave an imperceptible tilt of his head toward something he had seen in Obi-Wan's direction. Even with their diminished link, Qui-Gon could read his former Padawan, and in the next instant he was turning, moving back toward the table with full confidence that Xanatos would be covering his back.

While the crowd surged along with him, no one was foolish enough to actually get in Qui-Gon's way. So it was less than a minute before he got to a close enough position to see what Xanatos had from his position on the floor, what he would have sensed on his own had they not needed to keep their shields so damn strong!

The Sabacc table was no longer standing upright. Nor were half of the chairs. Cards and drinks lay scattered across the floor. So were chips and money, but no one was attempting to pick any of it up. They were either too interested in the fight taking place between Obi-Wan and a newly arrived Codru-Ji racer, or had at least seen how dangerous coming into close quarters with the two was proving.

Although the Codru-Ji stood even taller than Qui-Gon and outweighed Obi-Wan by at least two-thirds again, Obi-Wan was holding his own. The young Jedi had, in fact, delivered much more damage in the first few seconds of the fight than had his opponent. Already one of the Codru-Ji's four arms was broken, as was his nose. Obi-Wan had lost most of his shirt, but showed only evidence of bruising across his ribs, and a cut just below his cheek. Of course, all it would take was one good connection by a fist almost larger than Obi-Wan's face to end the fight, or at least put Obi-Wan at the alien's mercy.

Unless one of the present Jedi used the Force.

Qui-Gon couldn't even pull his blaster. The Codru-Ji was not alone, and one of his younger companions was still in their species more volatile, lupine stage. Although the other two Codru-Ji were staying out of the fight for now, Qui-Gon had no doubt that would change if he got involved. Not to mention that any number of the other bar patrons might choose to participate once the uniqueness of the combat--and its value for betting--altered. Once the first weapon was pulled, the fight would degenerate into chaos and probably more than one someone would end up getting badly hurt. Or killed.

Feeling Xanatos take a defensive position close behind him, Qui-Gon could also sense his former Padawan was saying something encouraging, although the actual words were lost in the cacophony of catcalls and yells being screamed out to both combatants. It was just as unlikely either of his Padawans would be able to hear anything Qui-Gon might call out. If they were to communicate and be understood, it would have to be through the Force. And if Qui-Gon was going to go ahead and do that amidst such a crowd, he might as well just use it to end the fight.

He never got the chance to further deliberate over making such a decision.

Between one blink and the next, the Codru-Ji lunged at Obi-Wan, finally trying to shove the smaller, faster man instead of catch him. Hampered by the closeness of the crowd, this time Obi-Wan could not twist far enough out of the way. He went down from the force of the blow but managed to roll so that he also took the impact of falling on his stronger back and shoulders. Those close by could hear a wet crunch as one of those shoulders gave way, although Obi-Wan made no sound than an explosive release of breath.

Had the Codru-Ji racer been less careful about his own injuries and simply collapsed with his full body to pin Obi-Wan to the floor, Obi-Wan would have been trapped, unable to move, maybe not even really breathe again until he submitted. But the alien also wanted a little payback along with Obi-Wan's submission, to deliver a little more pain. So, instead, he arrested his own fall by dropping two of his hands against Obi-Wan's shoulders and fisting his third toward Obi-Wan's chest.

He didn't notice until too late that Obi-Wan had pulled his legs up and was in a position to push out in the instant the Codru-Ji's feet left the ground. Obi-Wan's boots were now in a position directly underneath the alien's groin. And although this time Obi-Wan could not stay silent from the additional hammering his ribs and dislocated shoulder took, the Codru-Ji's scream of absolute agony overwhelmed even the sound of Obi-Wan's heels impacting against the racer's cock and balls. Obi-Wan's subsequent thrust upward put an end to the other's scream as the alien was then flipped overhead, but not far enough to prevent the Codru-Ji from landing on his own shoulders. And neck.

Anyone smaller or of a less hearty species would have broken their neck. Qui-Gon wasn't all that sure he was happy that the Codru-Ji hadn't. He didn't even bother to look in the creature's direction as it groaned, moving instead to Obi-Wan's side and this time, he did draw his blaster. Fortunately neither of the Codru-Ji's companions wanted to prolong the fight, and none of the losing gamblers were foolish enough to take out their frustrations on the winner. No one even approached as he helped Obi-Wan roll to his knees, although Xanatos stayed nearby.

"I warned you about the tendency of the shoulder," was Obi-Wan's only comment before spitting out a mouthful of blood. He used a palm against the floor to steady himself. "Do you think you might manage to reset it for me?"

While Qui-Gon wanted to do a lot more than just that, they still had a large audience. And there was little else he could do until they could get to a place where using the Force wouldn't be noticed. So he simply reholstered his blaster, pulled Obi-Wan further upright between his knees and, using his thighs and one arm to hold his Padawan in place, gave a proper pull and a twist to his Padawan's extended left arm. A moan passed through Obi-Wan's lips and he swayed, then leaned forward to cough up a little more blood. Finally he gave an abrupt nod that he had his body back under control, and let Qui-Gon help him all the way up.

The instant both were back on their feet, the two Codru-Ji came forward to grab the other racer. A couple more brave souls moved to right the table and chairs, and to claim the money scattered amidst liquor and blood, with one even handing off some of the money to Xanatos that might have originally been Obi-Wan's before the fight had started. Another group came over to comment on Obi-Wan's victory, though most addressed their congratulations to Qui-Gon. And three competitors were quick to ask Obi-Wan if he would be up for the race.

"Jabba wants to talk to you about that, Jerom."

Even faster than they had cleared out for Qui-Gon, the crowd parted again, and this time several fled as far as the front of the room and even beyond, out into the night. The pronouncement had come from a tall, pale-skinned Twi'lek. Four oversized, porcine Gamorrean with harnesses holding a variety of blades and energy rifles in their hands, ready to be aimed, eager to be fired, also approached. The Twi'lek carried no obvious weapons other than the amulet hanging down from his neck, its gold and black sigil quite visible against his garish robes. Like many of the trade and space guilds, the Hutts had taken to marking their agents with clan-type identification so that others could recognize who their minions worked for. Including rivals of their own species.

These five belonged to Jabba and his new mate, Gardulla. Both had reputations for ruthlessness and an excessiveness -- even for Hutts -- to their pleasures. As they were also the listed sponsors of the upcoming races and nominally their hosts, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan weren't in a position to just ignore the Twi'lek and walk away. Even as they had found Xanatos and now no longer had a need to stay in the race.

Even if the Gamorreans were not looking just a little too anxious to have them do something just like that.

"Of course," Obi-Wan said with a red-stained smile and a bravado that was all flamboyant, anything goes, Jerom CuWil. He shrugged the shirt back over his shoulders, not bothering with the ties since they had been mostly ripped away.

Qui-Gon had only a second to note that Xanatos had managed to disappear back into the crowd somewhere so as not to be taken along with them. And he wondered that if their positions had been reversed, would Obi-Wan have done the same?

Shouldn't he have wanted Obi-Wan to have done the same?

The Twi'lek gestured with his prehensile lekku headtails for two of the Gamorreans to precede them toward a trapdoor in the floor which, when pulled, revealed a set of stairs leading underground. This was not an entryway Hutts could use; there would be at least one more avenue of escape, therefore. So at least two pathways to be beset with guards, in addition to the two sets that framed them front and back.

Because the stairs were long and steeply laid out, Qui-Gon had a reasonable excuse to keep a hand under Obi-Wan's elbow as they descended. He wasn't sure if his Padawan's unsteadiness was solely a result of the fight and sustained injuries; Qui-Gon was finding his own thoughts dwelling on Obi-Wan's past in similar circumstances, and so could well imagine how difficult this would be for Obi-Wan to willingly walk into the den of a Hutt. At least he had Obi-Wan's mental and physical health to concentrate on, instead of only brooding and second-guessing whether acquiescing peaceably had been such a good idea.

They had not been relieved of their weapons. Of course, Qui-Gon would have felt much better were their lightsabers near at hand instead of back on their ship. But he had both a blaster and a knife, while Obi-Wan carried the limited use stunner and his two blades. That some of their weapons were visible to the guards but had not been taken, either meant they were perceived of as no threat, or that the Hutt's people did not particularly intend to threaten them in return. So there was every reason to still believe their deception had not been seen through.

And as best as Qui-Gon could tell without giving it away himself by confirming through the Force, the Twi'lek truly believed Obi-Wan to be Jerom CuWil.

Noise rolled out of a further opening, sounding as if there was a party of another kind going on down here. Which gave Qui-Gon additional reason to believe that they weren't being led to their deaths. At least not yet.

On the other hand, a Hutt's idea of a party was not something the Jedi Master had particularly wanted to experience for himself, and there were no guarantees that what would be forthcoming would be pleasant, even if it didn't result in bodily harm. Nor did the Hutts usually issue an invitation to their presence at gun point if the recipients were welcome.

Whereas the party above was comprised of bright lights, garish colors, loud music and shrill voices, down here it was much more subdued, yet less inhibited. The room was full of slow murmurs and different colored smokes you could almost taste, along with a myriad of throat-clenching odors. Qui-Gon managed to control his cough. Obi-Wan did not.

At least, Qui-Gon quickly noted as he steadied his Padawan, Obi-Wan was no longer coughing up blood. A cut inside his mouth then, instead of a pierced lung or internal bleeding.

Despite the spirals of smoke from spices and other proscribed intoxicants, both Hutts were immediately visible, as together they took up nearly a third of the room the disguised Jedi were led into. Both slugs were resting their massive bodies on a platform raised several inches above any of the others so that they were the tallest beings in the room that included hulking Abyssin cyclops as part of the guards. Servants or slaves wove around their flicking tails, most wearing the same insignia as the Twi'lek, as did the different guards scattered throughout the room, though no one else seemed to wear it as a chain.

Some wore little else other than the brand, and tethers made from chain or leather. But even they seemed to be there willingly, and were interacting as much with the partygoers as they were with the Hutts. Especially the few invited racers, most of who were entered in the cycle or pod events as those drew the largest purses. Additionally the room held gamblers, fans and others less interested in the actual races as they were in just experiencing the event.

Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan were led through the throng of sycophants and pleasure seekers, their guide and guards still maintaining their proximity despite the presence of four furred Gotal who were obviously personal bodyguards for the two Hutts, and the two bestial Vrblthers that lay panting on the floor, collared and chained more like animals for all that they had a rudimentary sentience. By Qui-Gon's reckoning, there were at least ten other beings within the room under direct employ of the Hutts who did not carry any form of clan affiliation, for a total of twenty-three they might need escape. Doubtless a few of those with no obvious associations were mercenaries, bounty hunters or opportunists who would also come to the defense of the Hutts should any trouble commence.

Not good odds.

Which meant he and Obi-Wan would pretty much have to endure whatever was to come, short of accepting an outright sentence of death. Even allowing themselves to be imprisoned would have to be considered carefully as something viable to keep the chance of success for the mission alive. For if they found themselves using the Force to escape, it would be a harrowing fight to escape from the room, and a battle that wouldn't end until they reached the spaceport and their ship. They would have little chance to meet up again with Xanatos, assuming they survived an entire city after them.

Qui-Gon began a very, very careful scan of the room and its inhabitants. Hutts were resistant to Force compulsions, and arrogant enough to believe that by placing the bounty on any Jedi's head, no Jedi would come before them. Which meant it might be just possible that there were no mechanical finders set up in this room to detect Force use, and no other sentients with such a skill than the Gotal, who detected emotions with their cone-shaped horns, not the Force.

When he sensed nothing untoward, he chanced a further, non-aggressive application, drawing carefully on his empathy just as the Gotals did, relying on such a use being attributed to one of them if it was somehow sensed. This was a situation where even the simplest of misunderstandings could blow up in their faces. While he couldn't help Obi-Wan maintain his control without opening their link, with the empathy he could at least be better aware of how his Padawan was coping. And have a heads up before disaster struck.

Eeth Koth had had every right to be concerned about how this mission would affect Obi-Wan. Although he had agreed with Obi-Wan that it would be better to confront his fears than continue to ignore them, Qui-Gon would have chosen another way to find Xanatos -- not to mention helping Obi-Wan over his traumas -- had he envisioned this type of scenario coming to pass.

The Twi'lek bowed before the Hutts, then took a stance next to the larger of the two. Jabba. So the Twi'lek was the Hutt's translator as well as their major domo. Not good, as Qui-Gon had quite disliked the speculative looks the alien had been giving Obi-Wan. There would be no guarantee that the Twi'lek would translate truthfully. To either side.

Most Hutts actually understood Republic standard, they just had trouble forming the words. Just as there were few species who could actually speak Huttese, yet many who made a practice of understanding it. Being paranoid sentients in addition to being cruel and lascivious, the Hutts also rarely utilized droids as translators -- or for anything else -- since droids generally could not cringe. Or radiate fear.

And they could be programmed to attack, or to simply explode.

In a normal diplomatic situation, Qui-Gon would simply speak to the alien and ignore the translator as anything other than a tool, even when it was a sentient creature instead of a device or droid. He suspected the Hutts preferred that also, but had to be just as wary of giving this Twi'lek insult as he must still satisfy the Hutts' desires for dominance. It was a game he had played often in the course of his duties, especially during his stay with Xanatos on Telos. This time, however, he wouldn't have the comfort of representing the Jedi, the Senate or the Telosian government to give weight and authority to his words and outrage. All of the power in this room belonged to the Hutts.

"This is the one who has put your Codru-Ji out of commission, oh mighty Jabba," the Twi'lek began, speaking Republic standard himself in a voice rich with broad amazement. Too broad. Although he probably had been surprised to see or hear that a human had beaten a Codru-Ji in a fair fight, the Twi'lek's tone was false and mocking.

"Only after your racer attacked mine," Qui-Gon pointed out mildly before Obi-Wan could answer directly. He spoke without belligerence, yet without diffidence too. He would need to quickly establish that he thought himself this Hutt's equal, that he wasn't intimidated by either the display of wealth or power. And that he could speak for Obi-Wan -- Jerom CuWil.

Words rumbled out of Jabba's wide slash of a mouth, followed by a chuff of laughter that rolled through his gelatinous belly. From their own close proximity, Qui-Gon could feel Obi-Wan's muscles tighten, but his Padawan gave no other outward sign that he had understood the words, and Qui-Gon doubted anyone other than himself had noticed the reaction. The Twi'lek simply smiled and darted out a long, pointed tongue to lick his lips, then gestured to the Gamorreans.

"Bring him closer," he finally translated the Hutt's order. "Mighty Jabba wants to see for himself the nature of the one who attacked his man."

Qui-Gon started to protest for a number of reasons, chiefly to make sure the Jabba knew he wouldn't be so easily intimidated and because he didn't want Obi-Wan so far away. But his movements forward were thwarted by a thick Gamorrean arm blocking his chest and another's weapon pointed against his back. Then by the cocky grin Obi-Wan pasted on his face as his Padawan shrugged off the hands of the Gamorrean that was more groping than assisting him forward.

If Qui-Gon hadn't known better, even he might have convinced himself this was Jerom, and that the racer was pleased with all of the attention and interest he was attracting. Obi-Wan strutted forward, proudly showing off the bruises and blood that covered his torso and dripped from his face. The male Hutt rumbled his pleasure at Obi-Wan's willingness, and this time even his mate joined in with higher pitched harshness.

Without needing instruction, two of the nearby hauntingly beautiful women then scampered away from their lounging positions as favored pets, and quickly found and brought back soft cloths and a basin of water. Although their subsequent actions resulted in the removal of some of the blood, their gentle swipes across Obi-Wan's body were more to entertain the watchers than to clean. Or out of care to soothe any injury. Amidst calls of encouragement by a few of the other observers, the women ignored Obi-Wan's blood-covered cheek and chin to go instead after the few thin lines that had dripped down the veed waistband of his pants, all of which Obi-Wan seemingly encouraged when he covered their slim hands with his own and guided them lower and underneath the leather.

Intellectually Qui-Gon understood that Obi-Wan was keeping control of what they were touching, that his Padawan was convincing the women and the watchers that more was going on than it actually was. Still it was the perception and not the reality that Qui-Gon found himself reacting to. Along with reacting to the Hutt's intent, and the Twi'lek's own rising lusts. With a growl to rival those coming out of the black-skinned Vrblthers, Qui-Gon placed one hand at the elbow in front of him and grabbed the Gamorrean's pinkie with his other. He then pushed with the first and pulled with the latter. Predictably the Gamorrean squealed and collapsed to his knees, which stretched his arm even further away from his body into the contortion Qui-Gon had induced.

Although he desperately wanted to, Qui-Gon refrained from snapping either of the bones he had control of. He did stress the muscles and tendons so that the Gamorrean would not be using his arm for a while. Then just pushed the whimpering creature away with a kick into the Gamorrean's side, and simply ignored the one at his back.

No shots followed, nor were ordered.

He wasn't even stopped from stomping up to Obi-Wan's side. So Qui-Gon none too gently disengaged the collection of hands down Obi-Wan's pants then pushed away the lips and dainty tongues that had started tracing some of Obi-Wan's bruises. Transferring his grip to Obi-Wan's bicep and dragging him away from the women's attentions, he ignored the laughter of a dozen throats and Obi-Wan's artful pout, although both served to fuel his anger and frustration. Which he let be obvious in his voice when he next addressed the Hutts.

"I had thought we were here to discuss the fight, or at least business," he snarled. "If, instead, we are here to provide amusement for the mighty Jabba and his mate, I suggest you wait until the race tomorrow. Then you can be amused by how much money you make if you bother to bet on us."

For a moment Qui-Gon thought he had gotten away with it. The mood of most in the room was either amusement or indifference; he had even gotten a few claps for his joie de vivre. None of the guards had yet moved or even raised their weapons, and the women simply moved back to kneel before and lean against the bulk of the two Hutts' bodies, their heads carefully placed where they could be -- and were -- stroked.

Keeping his grip on Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon started to back them away from the dais. Obi-Wan didn't protest, of course, but the false pout was still on his face and he slowed their progress when he took a step away from Qui-Gon to accept the drink offered to him by Sellis, the mechanic they had met earlier in the docking bay. Obviously this performance had stayed convincing, for Sellis was one of Jerom's closer friends and was now trying to convince them to stay a bit longer.

While Obi-Wan clinked his rim against the mechanic's, he shook his head instead of drinking and thrust the orange-stained glass into someone else's empty hand. "Later, Sellis," he promised with a wink. "I need to make sure all of my ... equipment is in proper working order, which might take most of the night." He let Qui-Gon pull him a step or two away. "After the race you can help me check what might need a good mechanic."

The nearest in the crowd laughed appreciatively, and Sellis' eyes darkened in lust. "You know I'm your man, Jerom. My tool and hands are the best in the business. You want 'em, you got 'em. And not just after the race. If you need help getting ready, I'll be there -- "

Qui-Gon's Force sense was screaming at him to keep them moving, but he couldn't tell if it was motivated by his jealousy or by something else. And as much as he chaffed at the delay, he had to admit to himself that he was distressed in having to witness Obi-Wan's performance.

The insouciance and tactile flirting was fully within Jerom's character, despite the presence of a patron. He couldn't even get too alarmed when Obi-Wan took a drag on one of the cigarettes offered by a slinky, furred Cynthian; Jedi learned at a very young age how to metabolize potentially hazardous stimulants in whatever form, as too often diplomatic duties involved ingesting things that might not appeal to the palate or their species.

The horned and scaled Devorian who grabbed and began to lick off the layer of blood that still covered Obi-Wan's chin was too much, however. Again Qui-Gon took possessive hold of Obi-Wan's arm. This time he even channeled a bit of his aggression to push the other back since the diabolic looking creature was not obviously aligned with the Hutts. His possessiveness and aggression were simply laughed off and the Devorian moved to engage the young Qiraash he had been shoved on top of.

Expecting gentle chastisement or even amusement over his actions that he was quite prepared to challenge as his own bit of role-playing, Qui-Gon was quite surprised to sense almost nothing coming from Obi-Wan with their renewed bodily contact. It was almost as if Obi-Wan hadn't noticed Qui-Gon's painful grip, although his body and expression had instantly responded to Qui-Gon's rough handling and urgings with flirtatious come-ons. But Obi-Wan's thoughts and emotions were remote.

Qui-Gon had a sudden insight as to how Obi-Wan had survived his weeks as a pleasure slave. Akin to a Jedi's battle state, where the daily regime of training and practice become instinctive responses to threats, Obi-Wan was exhibiting something similar, his body and words reacting as needed without the emotional or even intellectual attachment to those actions. But in this case, the responses were sexual instead of defensive.

"Say goodnight to your friends, Jerom." And Qui-Gon tugged even harder in his fear. The danger here was no longer just from the presence of others, or his jealousy. If there was any hope of finishing this mission successfully, he had to get Obi-Wan out of here now.

Only noting that he had grabbed onto Obi-Wan's left arm when his Padawan gave an involuntary cry from the pressure put on his so recently dislocated shoulder, Qui-Gon offered silent, heartfelt apologies. Which were also ignored.

"Ah, not so fast, gentlemen. There was just one more thing."

This time the Twi'lek's voice got a strong reaction from them both, and Qui-Gon's sense of danger kicked into overdrive. Unfortunately the odds had not changed an iota in their favor, unless a couple of the people Obi-Wan had showed attention to might have been fooled in letting lust come before common sense.

Qui-Gon turned slowly, making sure his movement kept Obi-Wan nearly hidden behind his back. At least none of the Gamorreans had come with the Twi'lek this time. But that might only have been because one of the Vrblthers did, snuffling along on four limbs like an immature Codru-Ji instead of standing hunched over on two as the creature could. The bestial alien moved past Qui-Gon to rub against Obi-Wan's leg, and he could feel his Padawan's convulsive shudder as Obi-Wan took a step closer to Qui-Gon's side. Since they were not touching again, Qui-Gon couldn't quite be sure if the move forward was asserting aggressiveness, or from fear.

"What?" Obi-Wan snapped at the Twi'lek, letting his reaction to the long night's events show as a fraying temper.

"In his excitement of meeting the renowned Jerom CuWil, Jabba let himself be distracted from business. There is still the matter of compensation for the fight." The Twi'lek seemed more amused or attracted to the evidence of temper than he was disturbed by it.

"We do not need any compensation," Qui-Gon growled, and only just prevented himself from kicking the Vrblther who hovered way too close. "The opportunity to come to the Mighty Jabba's attention was compensation enough for the trouble."

The Twi'lek laughed and his smile took on a malicious curve. "I am afraid he isn't giving compensation," the alien purred. "It is from you that he demands compensation."

"The Hell he does!" Obi-Wan pushed past both Qui-Gon and the madly grinning Twi'lek and strode back toward the Hutts. Qui-Gon would have believed the fearless anger radiating from his Padawan had he not so graphically learned earlier how easily Obi-Wan's body lied. Or if the Jedi Master had not felt a deep flash from Obi-Wan to the contrary as they parted.

Qui-Gon found himself making the journey back shoulder to shoulder with the Twi'lek. The Vrblther had run on ahead to dance around Obi-Wan, who didn't stop this time at a respectful distance. Obi-Wan continued right up onto the dais until he was practically standing on Jabba's tail while his pet had to keep leaping over it to continue its gamboling around Obi-Wan.

"It was your driver who attacked me," Obi-Wan challenged the Hutt directly with quiet, yet intense tones. "If your people are too stupid to know the proper time to fight or play --" and here he partially turned to gesture to the various racers in a variety of stages of comatose -- "then you have a management problem, Jabba, not a money problem." His finger was out and pointed, yet not quite touching the bloated skin of the towering slug. "I owe you nothing." Another cocky grin somehow found a way onto his face. "In fact, I have probably done you a favor, since you would have bet on your own driver, and you would have lost."

No matter how much disinterest some of the more jaded members of Jabba's entourage tried to convey, Obi-Wan had everyone's attention now. And with everyone holding their breath, it was very easy to hear him do what no one else ever even dared -- talk back to a Hutt. Even Qui-Gon was holding his breath, one hand hovering near his blaster, the other ready to disable the Twi'lek first, and maybe use him as a hostage although Qui-Gon doubted that anyone other than perhaps his mate would be valuable enough to stay a Hutt's hand.

For several long moments the tableau held as everyone waited for Jabba to respond.

The Hutt's nearly redundant arm rose, and so did several of the guards blaster rifles in reflex. But then Jabba laughed, and signaled instead for one of his women to hand Obi-Wan a drink of something which Jabba also took up in a similar goblet. Together the two tossed back the dark liquid, and Qui-Gon was pretty certain only he could see the clenching of Obi-Wan's hand around the stem of the glass as he turned it upside down and slammed it back onto the tray, though no doubt several others would be looking for a more obvious reaction. It wouldn't have been poison since Jabba had joined in the drinking. But that didn't mean that it hadn't been vile tasting, even to someone of Jerom's supposed ... sophistication.

And Obi-Wan stayed there as both of the Vrblthers now began winding themselves around his legs in a show of disturbing affection; enough intelligence burned in their eyes to show they were acting this way out of their own pleasure as well as for their master's. But Obi-Wan endured the crude groping of their clawed fingers since they played only at the openings between laces alongside his legs. He even managed a faint smile of jaded amusement of his own when no one could mistake the beasts' growing excitement when one butted his head a little higher. But the smile and any patience disappeared as Jabba elected to bestow further signs of approval.

Qui-Gon found himself moving at just this side of Force-enhanced speed, but he wasn't fast enough, wouldn't have been fast enough even if he had used the Force to pull Obi-Wan away before Jabba's tongue slipped out of the wide slash of his mouth. And a part of Qui-Gon shriveled and died inside from guilt while the rest of him marveled to see Obi-Wan do nothing more than gasp when a portion of that obscene length of tongue wrapped itself around Obi-Wan's neck and licked clean whatever remains of blood that had still covered part of his chin. The gasp turned into a stifled moan, a whimper as Jabba took quick advantage and plunged the tip of his tongue inward to taste of the flavors there. But Qui-Gon was finally there, again pulling his Padawan away, ignoring the squeal from Jabba as he shoved the barrel of his blaster against the flailing tongue to insure the Hutt would not persist.

How Obi-Wan managed to keep down the bile, Qui-Gon didn't know, couldn't really even figure out how he managed it himself, unless it was his complete focus on getting his Padawan out of there. No one tried to stop them this time; even the creatures Jabba employed showed some sympathy to being so singled out for a Hutt's interest. Those that Jabba owned laughed a little, but it was an automatic response, shrill and uneasy, for they could all too easily empathize even if they couldn't show it. But all of the laughter was easily overpowered by the booming rumbles of two very happy Hutts.

Chapter Eight

Most of an hour had passed, and still Xanatos waited for some sign of his former Master . He knew he should be heading back to Anakin and Amidala. More time had passed than he felt comfortable in leaving them on their own, and his anxiety that they would forge out to follow had been steadily increasing as he waited in the shadows. Both were headstrong and impatient, both had concerns for others that might lead them to taking foolish chances they might not otherwise consider.

But would that be worse than what might happen if he was not here for Qui-Gon?

He had always been glad that prescience was not a skill he or his former Master had in abundance; the dangers of being influenced by something that might happen seemed much more relevant than the actual foreknowledge. But this one time he wished he could look to the probable outcome of his actions.

His responsibility was to Amidala -- and Anakin. Yes, getting off planet would be easier with Qui-Gon's help, but that was not his only option. He need not wait; there was little he could do to help anyway if the Hutts decided to imprison his former Master and his little Padawan, if that was what the racer really was. Nor was it as if Qui-Gon needed him as his back-up, for Force sake! Xanatos knew of no one more capable than Qui-Gon Jinn to extract himself from an awkward situation. And even if Qui-Gon couldn't, his former Master would be the first to tell commend him for looking to the safety and completion of the mission.

But it hadn't been to complete the mission that Xanatos had calmly watched his former Master head into potential danger and walked away. Again.

Fine. If he was to succumb to his emotions in this decision, he preferred it to be the guilt and not the jealousy. He would stay a bit longer.

At least he could take comfort that Qui-Gon was still alive. Through what remained of their link as past Master and Padawan, he could sense that. Even a little more than was probably wise given that they were on Tatooine and would be hunted if others sensed their link. So Xanatos kept his position in a recessed doorway that had a view of two sides of the cantina, and the most likely exit from its underground extension.

The faint buzz of Qui-Gon's emotions suddenly exploded and Xanatos found himself out in the middle of the street with no conscious memory of moving, his hand reaching for the lightsaber hidden down his back. He stopped himself before actually pulling the weapon that would identify and condemn him, then stopped to take a quick look around to see who might have noticed his actions while he also tried to calm his wildly beating heart.

Even out here on the Rim, no community ever completely shut down as its inhabitants rested. But Mos Espa was certainly not Coruscant with its unceasing movement of traffic, even the night before the start of the Boonta Eve races. All he could hear was the shuffling and snorts of a few of the domesticated creatures some of the populace used to get about, since spare parts and mechanics were at a premium on this world due to its environment. Such beasts of burden were expensive to purchase and to keep, but common enough that they could be replaced for the proper incentive, whereas it was harder to find a speeder, even if you had the money. Every public building had enclosures to house the animals. But most people simply walked between home and other places, even in these dark hours before the first sun's rise.

And so, although he was not alone on the street, neither could Xanatos discern that he had attracted any untoward attention, though he couldn't be sure that his former Master hadn't. Having left his doorway, he was tempted to go back into the cantina and find the remarkably angry Qui-Gon. Before he could do so, however, his former Master's head appeared out from the unmarked door Xanatos had been watching, then his body followed. And his companion.

Xanatos found himself backing into the shadows. He tried to convince himself it was in direct response to the caution Qui-Gon was exhibiting and not the aggressive emotion or manner, but in truth, Xanatos couldn't keep his attention on their surroundings to look for potential threats. He had never seen his former Master look quite so dangerous. So compelling.

Such an aura of violence seethed around his former Master that no Hutt -- hells, no Black Sun assassin -- would dare to challenge Qui-Gon in this moment. Xanatos had little doubt any of the pathetic lowlifes nearby would try anything. Which didn't excuse his preoccupation, but damn! Never before had Xanatos so wanted to submit to his Master. In anything. In everything --

And then he caught a glance at the one nearly hidden behind Qui-Gon. And understood. He had never seen someone look quite so ... shattered. Although the younger man was making a visible effort to regain control, Xanatos feared he would never forget the look of heart-rending vulnerability on his rival's face.

Nor, he knew, would Qui-Gon.

Jealousy again swept through the Jedi Knight. He had never invoked such a level of emotion from former Master, not even a negative one when he had turned down Qui-Gon's offer of becoming life partners! What was so special about this man? They couldn't have known each other for more than a couple of weeks. Yet he had been with Qui-Gon for sixteen years. Sixteen fucking years! How had someone this young and ... weak have so easily taken his place in being everything Qui-Gon had wanted?

"A little fragile to be walking at your side, isn't he Master?" Xanatos found himself saying in a fierce whisper as he approached, quite unmindful if he had been overheard by the other or not. He knew it was wrong, that he was speaking out from his own pain and resultant guilt. Before tonight he had never before spoken in such disrespect to anyone. And now he was challenging not only his former Master's protective streak, but his choice of finding another.

Though the darkness hid his sudden flush, for an instant Xanatos had Qui-Gon's full regard, and knew his every thought was bared. He died a little to see the rage now directed toward him. And the depth of Qui-Gon's disappointment.

Eyes blurring, Xanatos was suddenly eight again, or maybe seven, and had just been caught tormenting one of the other initiates over the boy's unknown parentage while crowing his own status as heir to a planet. It hadn't been Qui-Gon who had caught him -- he hadn't yet met the man who would later become his Master -- but at that moment in time and from that one look, Xanatos had convinced himself he would never become a Jedi, was not worthy of being a Jedi. And had realized there was nothing more important to him than doing so, including that lineage he had been so proud of. No apology could undo the damage he had inflicted on both his victim and himself. But he tried now as he had then, as he vowed once more to never do such a thing again.

"Forgive me, Master, I --"

But Qui-Gon turned away before he could hardly begin. And even if it wouldn't kill him, Xanatos felt his own heart breaking. Then had to curse at himself yet again when he realized that even in this, he was still putting his own feelings first. Qui-Gon had turned not to refuse his apology, but because his companion had started to lag too far behind them.

He closed his eyes and reached for his center. After a couple of deep breaths, he felt some regain of control, but then he opened up his eyes again. Qui-Gon had caught the other up easily, seeing as Xanatos did, that he was going to be very sick, very soon. Then it was Xanatos' turn to look away. He also drew his borrowed blaster and moved to put his body between them and anyone who might want to take advantage of the situation as he heard Qui-Gon ease the racer to his knees on the ground.

To keep track of their position Xanatos stepped back until his own leg was just touching Qui-Gon's back. In that instant of contact, their link flared opened and he got a glimpse from his Master's perspective of what had triggered this nausea in the other Jedi. Clamping down on his own gorge and on his shields, Xanatos twisted away, needing to take a couple of steps before he could steady himself again. The contact had been overwhelming, Qui-Gon's emotions had been overwhelming. So much anger. And fear. It was the fear that helped Xanatos get a handle on his own emotions and do a little better job of guarding their backs.

Fortunately, even if noticed, no one was looking to bother them. Someone puking up his guts after coming out of the cantina was just not a surprising sight. Xanatos didn't relax his vigilance, however, not even when he heard the two behind him standing again, and the quiet brush off Qui-Gon received for his solicitousness. To that Xanatos hid the of barest smiles; being gruff and embarrassed after showing weakness was one of the true constants in the universe.

"We need to get off the street," Qui-Gon said next, loud enough for Xanatos to know it was as much directed toward him.

Xanatos nodded. "Do you two have a place to stay?"

As they drew even with him, Xanatos felt a thrill of relief when Qui-Gon placed a steady hand on his shoulder in tactile thanks for his discretion. And willingness to help.

"Is there a reason why we just can't go to our ship and leave?" came the counter, yet spoken in the quiet tones that had always brought Xanatos such comfort in his youth.

Xanatos placed his own hand on top of the one Qui-Gon held on his shoulder, then slipped out from under the comforting grasp and moved around until his was on his companion's other side. Just in case.

"I am not here alone, Master," he answered, too aware of the limitations of having to hide who and what they were, of the definition others nearby would be putting on the title he was still granting Qui-Gon. "I -- she --"

"How many?" And Xanatos had to marvel at the calm his former Master exuded though the man had to be hugely dismayed and disappointed at this deviation from expectations.

Qui-Gon hadn't known that Xanatos was with the heir to Naboo. Which could mean that Senator Palpatine had not made it out himself. And which Xanatos would have to hope just meant that his friend had arrived on Coruscant after the Jedi had already sent his former Master to his rescue.

In truth, Xanatos wanted nothing more than to just slip away in the night, himself. But he had responsibilities to the others, not just those in hiding, but to Anakin's mother. And he could not see convincing her to steal away in the night, even if he could get to her unobserved by those looking for her son.

"Five in addition to me." And, "sorry."

Qui-Gon would never lose control enough to let another actually hear his consternation, but Xanatos had no doubt his former Master was at least sighing on the inside.

"Is your ship large enough for us all, Master?"

He didn't know what he would do if Qui-Gon's ship was not. Even if his Master's new ... friend was a pilot as well as a racer, eight people would be too many for the typical scoutship the Jedi used for quick rescue missions. At least too many to make it back all the way back to Coruscant before supplies were exhausted.

"It is."

And he could hear the smile in his former Master's voice for that which was in their favor.

"We needed a place for Jerom's cycles."

Xanatos stopped for a moment and blinked. Jerom ... cycles ... racing ... Jerom CuWil? The Slut of the Speedway? There was no way Qui-Gon would truly be interested in someone like that! Could the kiss and protective streak be nothing more than duty and responsibility for an outsider caught up in Jedi business? Simply one of Qui-Gon's pathetic lifeforms --

"From what I know of Sellis, he will expecting me to meet him to look over the bikes and anything else I might let him get his hands on," came the first words Xanatos had heard from the youth, other than his ragged 'm alright' to Qui-Gon after he had been ill.

Damn, he even sounded like Jerom CuWil!

"And he will come looking if I don't find him."

Again Xanatos' mind was plunged into confusion. It had been several years since he had met many of the racers that had so captivated his brother, but surely the one he was remembering had spoken with a High Minnian accent. At the time it had surprised him to find someone from the upper levels of Minnian society making a living out of something so ... trivial.

"The only place you are going is to the hotel," Qui-Gon said more sharply than he probably intended. "Sellis can look all he wants."

Jerom started to shake his head but then stumbled, and Xanatos reached out to steady him without thinking. And was once again swamped by the other's presence due to carelessness on his part and tattered shielding on the other's.

By the Protector of the Green, this was a Jedi!

The Force fairly sang through their skin to skin contact, in ways similar to how it felt around Anakin, though here all of the potential was well on its way to being developed. What a pairing the two of them might have made had this young Jedi bonded to the boy instead of himself --

What a minute! Bonded? As in a Master to a Padawan? But Ani wasn't Jedi, knew nothing about the Jedi save for fantastic dreams and absurd rumors. He had no training, couldn't be anyone's Padawan --

"He's the one who recommended the room to us," the argument was continuing, pulling Xanatos' attention away from the flood of panic that had seized him when he considered Anakin.

"Then I will meet with him, and make sure his interest stays only on the bikes," Qui-Gon growled with a jealousy Xanatos knew was not feigned.

So he was not the only Jedi who had recently bonded with a Padawan. Somehow, the thought that this Jerom -- well, this faux Jerom was a Jedi, made it a little easier to deal with him being a replacement. Or maybe he was just still in shock from realizing he had bonded with Anakin. The Council was going to kill him --

"Then we both should go --"

"Xan, can I ask you to make sure Jerom gets back to our rooms in safety?"

For a moment Xanatos was struck silent. He knew enough not to want to argue with Qui-Gon when his Master spoke in such a tone of voice, but wasn't sure that the other man might not be right. He wasn't sure Qui-Gon's judgment was impaired by his concern for his new Padawan's safety or not, but he did know Qui-Gon was not giving enough consideration for his own.

Xanatos had actually never really argued much with Qui-Gon in their own earlier relationship since in matters of state and regarding Devon, Qui-Gon had almost always deferred to his judgment, and in the concerns of the Jedi, Xanatos had always let Qui-Gon lead them, even when it meant challenging the Council. Especially when it meant challenging the Council. He had not wanted to get that august body angry at him --

"I don't need a k-keeper!"

Which might have been more convincing if the Padawan was not shivering and stuttering. Xanatos gave himself a mental kick and took off the jacket he'd been wearing against the desert night's chill. Of course the younger man would be shaking. From having nothing more pieces of a shirt on, not to mention a delayed stress reaction from the fight and whatever had happened afterward in their encounter with the Hutt.

"No, but I do need for Xan to know where we are staying," Qui-Gon responded back with a reasonableness that set all of Xanatos' hackles rising, even as his lips quirked into a smile of remembrance. He stayed silent and set the jacket about the other's shoulders.

Master and Padawan they might be, but theirs was obviously not a typical pairing even if you discounted the lateness of their coming together. Or the depth of the bond between them he had earlier sensed. No doubt he was the Padawan Master Yoda had always said his Master deserved.

Xanatos felt a little pang in his heart. He had always thought the words had been said in jest -- that Master Yoda was saying Qui-Gon deserved a Padawan who would prove to be as much of a trial to his Master as Qui-Gon had been to the ancient one. Yet even then Master Yoda was speaking in prophesy.

Here was the Padawan Qui-Gon had been fated to find. Not him.

At least this should also mean his Master would be happy. And that was something Xanatos was finding he needed to know.

"Well, I'm not going to be the one meeting with a randy mechanic," Xanatos offered into the tense silence, his smile widening into a grin when the other two gave him looks of surprise. "And I will happily take one of your beds if you've no need for it; the town's full up due to tomorrow's festivities." Not his best, perhaps, but it did break the focus between the two of them, and gave them both something to think about beyond concern for each other.

"Your friends --" Qui-Gon began.

"I will need to let them know what is going on, but they are not expecting me back at a specific time," Xanatos said more soberly. "I would be happy to help Jerom to your rooms before continuing about my own business." It was the least he could offer for his earlier petulance and jealousy.

While he was still worried about what Anakin or Amidala were doing, it was no doubt already too late for his immediate presence to make a difference. If they were going to have come after him, they would have left already. And he had to trust that with the growing lateness of the hour, if they hadn't left yet, Lieutenant Panaka and Sabe would no longer let them leave regardless of his continued absence.

And by doing things this way, maybe he could find out what Jerom's real name was.

*****

Not sure if he acquiesced to Qui-Gon's wishes because he was embarrassed to be arguing in front of his Master's former Padawan, or because he was just too sick, tired and hurt to care, Obi-Wan clutched the jacket Xanatos had given him tighter around his arms and watched his Master disappear in silence. He wasn't quite sure why he was bothered so much by them being separated. He felt no particular threat in the idea and, while his prescience certainly wasn't one hundred percent reliable, it had been pretty accurate at least in giving him warning of danger posed to Qui-Gon. Nor was it as if he was so used to being with Qui-Gon now that he felt uncomfortable without him. He had managed without any Master certainly on more missions than their one -- now two -- together.

He supposed he could blame his reticence on earlier circumstances; indeed he was only keeping himself from getting sick again, or from screaming, because he wasn't alone. But it wasn't as if he wanted to talk about it. Or sleep, though he had little doubt that would be what Qui-Gon would insist, even to the point of using the Force, once they were back in their room. Obi-Wan knew he wouldn't be able to sleep without succumbing to nightmares for days. Maybe even weeks.

No, the truth was that he hadn't wanted Qui-Gon to leave for the same reason that he was not now collapsing into a fetal ball of panic. Xanatos. Qui-Gon's former perfect Padawan and the great legendary love of his Master's life. Someone he could never hope to compare to.

The abdicated heir of Telos -- Hells of the Sith, Xanatos was the fucking abdicated heir to Telos! -- was everything Obi-Wan had hoped he would one day grow up to be, but had not. A damn recruiting poster for the Jedi with his splendid height, just the right mix of muscle and sleekness and vid-star looks. While Obi-Wan knew such an impossible length of hair had to be for disguise -- no Knight would leave himself so vulnerable as to provide an opponent such a handhold -- it was dark, and straight and simply fucking perfect.

He doubted Xanatos had ever been clumsy a day in his life, would never have wanted for friends -- lovers. And he had been Qui-Gon's chosen, not just as Padawan, but as lover and lifemate, before their Master had become saddled with someone short, stocky, ill-tempered and woefully under-trained in any proper aspect of life. By someone of the Force's choosing instead of Qui-Gon's own. A duty because someone needed him, needed his love just to try and become a whole person again. How could --

"Hey, let's get out of here before someone decides they can move in on Qui -- on our Master's ... business."

Obi-Wan hadn't really realized that he had closed his eyes when he had begun contemplating his short-comings and failures, not until he opened them upon Xanatos' words and the world tilted suddenly. He reached out and clutched at the other's quickly offered arm. Dammit, he couldn't even fucking stand without needing someone else's help!

"Whoa there, maybe we ought to sit you down first," and Xanatos was gently pulling him over toward the nearest building.

Not the cantina, thank the Force, but still too close for Obi-Wan's comfort. He shook his head and resisted the other's push against his shoulder. "M'alright." And he was, after a fashion. It wasn't like he had a concussion again, probably not even a broken rib, though from his earlier coughing up of blood he knew he had some internal bleeding he was managing to control. And a fuckload of bruises. He was just tired. About two months worth of tired.

"O -- kaay. Then how far away are your rooms?"

Obi-Wan had to be glad that Xanatos wasn't going to argue. "The other side of town, of course." The other fucking side of town. He wasn't sure he was going to be able to make it to the other side of the street.

As if Xanatos heard the thought, or could simply read the weariness in his body, the other Jedi quickly wrapped a careful arm around Obi-Wan's waist. "Just lean on me," he whispered. "I've no doubt Jerom CuWil has needed a hand before when walking out of a cantina."

Boy, was that true. And Xanatos certainly would have been the type Jerom would have willingly sought out to give him a hand home. And anywhere else. That knowledge helped him from pulling away, as was his first inclination.

"Thanks."

They started away in silence. Both were quite aware of their surroundings, and of the target they might be presenting. But either Jerom's reputation served to protect them, or maybe it was his sponsor Quinn's willingness to challenge anyone who showed an interest. No one who approached did so in a threatening manner. Most were either well-wishers, or gamblers looking for information. Obi-Wan fended them off with a glibness he was greatly beginning to resent having to dredge up.

On the other hand, having to remember those he should, and to hide any weakness, was greatly helping him from dissolving into panic or self-pity. And the need to focus was allowing him to set aside his exhaustion for just a bit longer. The fact that Xanatos was surreptitiously feeding him energy probably had something to do with it too. Enough had been given that Obi-Wan was able to walk on his own and he stopped leaning quite so heavily upon the other man. He still let Xanatos keep his hand in place, though, since their being together was discouraging most of the groupies that continued to find them.

"If you want to stop off to see your friends first," Obi-Wan found himself offering, "we can do that." They were about halfway through the town.

He felt Xanatos stiffen and quickly continued.

"Quinn will not make it back before us even with a short detour, so you have no need to fear his response." While said in truth, it was also as much for anyone who might still be close enough to hear their exchanges. "I can feel your concern," he then added much quieter as he twisted his face upward toward Xan's. As if encouraging them to exchange something other than words.

"They will be wondering," Xanatos nodded, his eyes widening in a response all too familiar and easy to read.

Obi-Wan found himself wishing the other Jedi's fear of Qui-Gon's response might have stayed just a little longer. He could feel Xanatos' eagerness crawling over his skin. Yet he had allowed far worse this night than a simple kiss. As a fellow Jedi he should be able to trust Xanatos. As Qui-Gon's former Padawan, he had to be able to trust Xanatos.

But he found himself not quite able to trust the man, as Xanatos raised his fingers and caressed his cheek, invoking too many memories. "Sorry," he said hoarsely as he stepped away from Xanatos' tightening embrace. "I wouldn't even let Qui-Gon kiss me right now," he forced out along with a smile for the benefit of their audience. "Not until I can get several tastes out of my mouth."

He made himself continue to hold Xanatos' hand.

The other hesitated for just a moment, then nodded again. "This way then," Xanatos directed, turning them only slightly away from the direction of Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon's room.

They walked for another ten minutes or so before Xanatos' stride started to slow. Obi-Wan took a better look at their surroundings.

While Mos Espa had nothing you would consider a business district, or even a residential one, the area they were heading into now was not one where he expected to find any form of hostel or lodgings. For an instant he stumbled, and waved the other off when he would have closed the distance between them to help. He very much did not want to think the worst of Qui-Gon's former Padawan, knew his sudden suspicions had to simply be a measure of his exhaustion and the awful night so far. No one Qui-Gon could love would be so duplicitous as to drag him off toward such emptiness without reason.

Despite his faith in Qui-Gon and Jedi training, however, Obi-Wan had to reach for a sense of this action from his prescience before he could take another step. And despite the inherent danger in so actively using Force.

But he found nothing that led him to believe Xanatos was luring him away. Only his own overactive paranoia. And concern from Xanatos not only from Obi-Wan's behavior, but for those they were getting closer to reaching. Xanatos' hesitation was because the others were in hiding -- because the others needed to be in hiding.

And because someone else was once again approaching them with intent.

A quick search of Jerom's memories and Obi-Wan was able to put a name to the face, even as he couldn't quite hide his groan. This was another one of Jerom's very good friends, someone as close to the racer as Sellis. And someone who had proven even more persistent in the past in pursuing what the two usually wanted from Jerom.

"Off to a secret rendezvous, J?" the tall, pelted Selonian with the unlikely name of Bob called out. "Is there room for one more?" And he flicked his tail around not only his own body, but Obi-Wan's, letting it linger and caress and bring them closer together.

Obi-Wan shot a quick glance toward Xanatos, pasting on a smile for the other Jedi's benefit so that he might not take action against this newcomer, before turning it up for the Selonian. "Sorry, Bob, but I've run out of holes to share," he said in his most suggestive voice.

"But there's only this dark one -- "

"Surely someone has mentioned Quinn to you," that dark one quickly spoke up with a hint of gruffness that was in part from the surprised cough Xanatos had suppressed at the ... compliment. "Of how jealous he can become? Of how he hates to share?"

Obi-Wan let Xanatos pull him away from Bob and the amazingly powerful tail. He even shifted into the other's possessive grasp when Xan's hand brushed against the lacings below his waist. But then he leaned away for a moment and pulled Bob's fur-covered arm into his own grasp, lifting up on his toes to then be able to brush the fur on the other's bared chest. "Maybe tomorrow, Bob," he offered, still stroking but now along the fur on the rising tail. "Maybe Quinn will be willing to a spring for a full celebratory bash after I win, and we can all party with each other."

Bob's suggestive grin in response was not threatening, but neither was he quite ready to draw away. "But Sellis said -- " he began in a whine.

"Ah, but Sellis was wrong," as he tiptoed his fingers back across the massive chest. "Quinn is on his way to let Sellis know this, even as we speak. I'm sure he will be back to me -- us, very soon."

This time they did get a reaction from the Selonian at the mention of Qui-Gon's alias, the very one Obi-Wan had hoped for. Bob's tail abruptly drooped and wound itself around his own leg. The alien had indeed heard about some of the action tonight, undoubtedly from Sellis, who had had an up close and personal view of how the Jedi Master had held a Hutt at gun point for what the loathsome slug had done to his boy.

Now Bob twisted back from Obi-Wan's attentions, trying to turn his agitation into an expression of patience instead, then shot a narrowed glance above Obi-Wan toward Xanatos. The Jerom he knew wouldn't be the type to talk out of turn to Quinn about extra activities that might get someone in trouble, but Obi-Wan knew Bob couldn't be so sure about Xan.

"Ah, good racing then, tomorrow, J," the Selonian mumbled. "And, uh, have fun with what's left of the night." And he simply brushed his hand across Obi-Wan's head instead of closing in for the kiss he typically took before parting.

Xanatos held him in the loose embrace even after they were left alone, yet Obi-Wan found the other's presence more soothing than alarming. Especially as the Jedi resumed trying to restore his faded energy. He shouldn't allow it, of course, such a transference was even more likely to be noticed than a telepathic link.

"Please tell me that we are almost there, and once we are, no more of my fans will be able to reach us," he finally said softly, not because they might be overheard, but because he just didn't have the strength to do much more.

"Should I leave you here with my friends and make it to Qui -- Quinn on my own?" came Xanatos' offer along with a puff of moist, warm breath against Obi-Wan's ear. "Let him know you won't be returning to your rooms until tomorrow?"

It was tempting. Too tempting, and Obi-Wan wanted nothing more than to sit -- or lay -- down somewhere and put the whole day behind him. Too bad it wouldn't work like that. Not that he wanted to be keeping Qui-Gon up with his nightmares if he did return to their room, but that would be better than bothering refugees who had significant troubles of their own.

But it would be so nice to be able to just stop moving. Maybe to wash and to be alone. To be Obi-Wan, if only for a few moments.

He shook his head and slipped from Xanatos' arms, but without the frantic urgency from before. "Let's just get this finished up, shall we?"

And Xanatos let him go though he still stayed nearby as he led them deeper into the shadows.

On another day Obi-Wan might have been surprised or even questioned Xanatos about leading them surreptitiously into a junkyard. Tonight, however, he barely noticed his surroundings other than making sure he didn't walk into anything, and in keeping a hyper-awareness of anyone else's approach. Fortunately, now there weren't even watch-beasts nearby.

"Maybe you want to wait here," Xanatos was then saying, directing him down onto a fairly stable seat of metal pieces that had once been the too often patched engine casing for a speeder. "I will only be a couple of moments."

Obi-Wan nodded and slumped back, only vaguely aware of Xanatos lighting then putting some sort of mild narcotic stick between his fingers. The Jedi must have liberated it from one of Bob's pockets; the Selonian had fairly reeked of jurith smoke. Yes, its presence would serve as sufficient cover as to what he might be doing out here alone in the middle of a junkyard. And would last long enough for Xanatos to complete his task whether Obi-Wan took a drag on it or not.

For just a moment, Obi-Wan was again tempted. The jurith wouldn't offer the full oblivion he was craving, but it would make things matter not quite so much. Unfortunately that would also translate into altering his perception and awareness should he not then expend the energy to metabolize the drug before it affected him. And some things did matter. He was having enough trouble staying focused on his surroundings and the potential for danger as it was without adding some form of depressant to his exhaustion and aches.

And if he was just going to metabolize it, why bother with smoking the shite at all?

Chapter Nine

The pale skinned woman didn't need the telltale glow or smell from the end of the jurith stick to keep her quarry in sight, just as she hadn't needed to let loose her own shields to feel the eddies of the Force that leaked out and hung around him and his companion. She was pretty sure she recognized the boy despite the name he was using. They even could be the same man as the boy she had known of six years ago could very easily have changed his name and goals after they had been separated. After all, hadn't she?

And when he and his companion had been joined by this third, something about this new one and the youth's patron also seemed familiar. Something that her mind whispered to her that had nothing to do with racing or the Outer Rim despite their presence here and now. She had been tempted to use the Force, to at least see if the youth had more control over it than he was exhibiting now, but knew that if somehow he had managed to remain a Jedi, he might pick up on her probe.

Now was not the time to be caught.

Now was also not the time to add to the reports she heard her compatriots voice. Although her own report need not be completely negative as the others, that while she hadn't found the missing slave, she had found someone perhaps even more interesting to her employers, she just wasn't sure she was ready to share. There might just be a bigger prize if she waited a bit longer. Bigger prize and much, much bigger bounty if she could bring them all back. Alone.

She would have no trouble waiting motionless for minutes more, or even hours. And going without sleep for a day was not something she need worry about thanks to the Force. She would wait and watch, and let the memories come to her even as her prey would also eventually come to her.

*************

Anakin knew the others expected him to be asleep; he had even expected it himself. It would not be the first time he had fallen asleep within his tiny hideaway, although usually he did so in the heat of the afternoon, when even Watto didn't expect him to work. But he couldn't sleep, not when he was away from home overnight for the first time in his young life. And not when he knew that his mom would be worried and wouldn't likely be sleeping herself.

Nor did it help that the others had grouped together after he had laid down, whispering and making plans that Anakin knew affected the Jedi and, therefore, would be affecting him. He didn't know why the soldier was even listening to the two stupid girls anyway, or why, if he needed to rest, they didn't. They were only a few years older than he was!

It had to be because he was a slave -- a former slave if he could believe Jedi Xanatos -- and despite her angel face and serious words, the Princess didn't think his ideas were worth anything.

Well, he'd show them. Even if he was only a slave, he knew a lot more about where they were and about what was around than they did. He could slip out and hide somewhere else they would never find. And then wouldn't she be sorry. Stupid princess. Stupid girl --

Before Anakin had a chance to slip the droid head under his blanket to fool the others, however, his chance was gone. Jedi Xanatos was coming back. Ani knew he would be able to find him if he hid, just as he could sense the Jedi Knight now. And Jedi Xanatos would want to find him.

Oh, the others didn't know.

Anakin looked over their way and had to hide his smile. Maybe if they just shut up for once, they would hear the Knight approaching. He cocked his own head and suddenly realized that even he wasn't hearing Xanatos. At least not with his ears. But he could see in his mind when the Knight squeezed through the broken panel leading into this derelict, and heard the muttering that sounded like swearing -- even if Ani didn't know the words -- when Jedi Xanatos' hair got tangled around a spar of metal.

Ever since being sold to Watto, Anakin had been able to sense things about people, sometimes even going so far as knowing what they were going to say, or how they were going to move before they did those things. And that happened almost every time when something happened to them, like when one of the pod racer's mechanics undid the gravlines too soon and dropped Sebulba's engines on top of his pod. Mom had called it dŽjˆ vu, but Ani knew it was something more than that. It had to be something that could make a Jedi want his help, since he had gotten even better at knowing things since he had helped.

Like Jedi Xanatos being on his way back, and that he had been successful. Well, mostly.

And like not only had Jedi Xanatos freed him and Mom, but that the Knight was going to take him away from Watto and Tatooine, to somewhere where he could become a Jedi Knight!

Then the Princess would listen to him.

***********

Xanatos had never expected to get to liking Hugh Panaka. The soldier was loyal, dedicated, and just a little too rigid to the Jedi Knight's way of thinking. A little too provincial. From the beginning, however, he had certainly respected the dark skinned man and he could well understand the fears and frustrations the Lieutenant had felt when discovering he was the sole surviving bodyguard for his Princess, outside of one of her handmaidens, and an old friend of her father's who just happened to also be a Jedi Knight. When Xanatos had heard of his own father's death, he had been about to be forced to choose between ruling his world or staying a Jedi. He had not been prepared, had not been old enough to make that decision for all that he had been Panaka's current age then.

Thank the Force he had had Qui-Gon Jinn as a Master, instead of someone like Mace Windu or most any other of Qui-Gon's age mates. Few Jedi would have been willing to subsume their own careers and advancement on their Padawan's behalf, to instead let their Padawan become regent to a much younger brother, and spend eight years in exile on a world that, while a vital part of the Republic (or so Xanatos liked to think), had turned its back on much of the technology and excitement that overran so many of the other Inner Rim worlds. In some ways Telos was just as provincial as Naboo, choosing to let much of their planet's resources and environment stay undeveloped and in as pure a state, while still insuring a relative safety for the inhabitants, as they could. But Telos had become a true democratic monarchy while Naboo remained in an enlightened feudal state, and as such, coups were terror long forgotten, and bodyguard roles had become largely ceremonial.

There had been nothing ceremonial about Panaka's role since his commanding offer had died upon their crashing here, though. And Xanatos had a feeling that even had the Captain lived, Panaka would have taken his duty to his Princess just as adamantly. At least now, without having a superior to answer to in addition to his monarch, Panaka could make the hard decisions without fear of reprisals against his career. Like allowing Xanatos to use the Force to push the stubborn young spitfire he was sworn to protect into sleep. Panaka had understood that on a hostile planet like this one, you could not simply walk up to another and commandeer a ship to take a Princess home. And that even Jedi sometimes had things not work as planned or expected.

Between Sabe and Panaka, they would keep Amidala and Anakin contained if not entertained, and would wait patiently for Xanatos to return again after daybreak. Another night with only a cloak for a mattress and blanket would not hurt the Princess. Once the races were underway mid morning, the opportunities for stealing away Anakin's mother and slipping all of them into the berthing dock of his former Master's ship would greatly increase.

Which left him only with having to deal with taking care of his Master's new Padawan until Qui-Gon's return.

The final leg of the trip to their lodgings had taken much less time than even getting to the junkyard, even though they kept running into fans of Jerom CuWil. The later the night got, the more the revelers out on the street had consumed, until few were now even cognizant enough to realize they were being brushed off from an increasingly disinterested idol without even the token touch, kiss or allowed grope.

Xanatos had found himself marveling at the ease in which Qui-Gon's Padawan had maintained his role. He seriously doubted he could have handled the casual familiarity so well, especially after sensing from his former Master the poor boy was also trying to cope with the earlier trauma of having been molested by a Hutt. He stayed a protective step behind the other all the way into the room the Padawan and Qui-Gon were renting, even helping the other tear his way out of the remains of the clothes after bribing the night clerk with some of Amidala's father's credits to have real water brought in so that all of those touches and gropes could finally be washed off.

Beyond that, he didn't go quite so far as to tuck the youth into bed though he had been sorely tempted. Didn't even presume to try and heal the bruises from the earlier fight that now showed their lividness against the other's too pale skin. Qui-Gon would handle that, would want to handle that himself no doubt. But Xanatos had made that determination only after insuring himself that the bruises were only just that; ugly, annoying, probably painful in their own right, but not an indication of a more significant injury.

Xan did find himself encouraging the other into a deep sleep, however, even knowing the one he knew only as Jerom CuWil would have soon dropped from exhaustion without needing any help.

And so now Xanatos found himself waiting for Qui-Gon's return, unwilling to go to sleep himself -- unable to go to sleep even if he hadn't considered it his duty to serve as a protector until the youth's Master returned to take up the job himself. His mind was whirling with conflicted thoughts that only hours of meditation would allow him to resolve. Maybe.

Only a couple of weeks ago he had severed all ties with his former Master, and had been ... not happy, no, but at least motivated to do so. Some of his anger had been misdirected to the Jedi from his resentment of time lost in his obligations to his brother, and from the Jedi to Qui-Gon, even though it had been his own decision to try and be both regent and Jedi.

But mostly Xanatos had just desperately wanted to be on his own, whether as a Jedi Knight or as simply a man. He had equated his situation to being not unlike a virgin bride, living at home with her parents up until taken to her new home by her husband, with no opportunity to forge out on her own and learn what kind of person she might become. Or even want to become. Qui-Gon's declaration of love had been a burden instead of a blessing, just one more decision made about his life by someone else. It hadn't mattered that he might have loved Qui-Gon himself, that he most certainly could have fallen in love with Qui-Gon had they stayed together. He had not said or even realized it first, and so had turned away.

Only to find himself needing the man due to the actions of his first true solo decision. Go to Naboo to be with friends and forget. Get caught up in a palace coup, save the heir, then crash. And have to be saved by the one he had been fleeing from, only to find himself already replaced. As a Jedi and as a man.

The rage had felt so good at first, born of the righteous indignation of being proven right by betrayal. And then the rage had faded to leave him feeling empty, as did all flirtations with the Dark. How easily he could fill those empty spaces with his Master's regard or maybe the same from this luminous one who lay on the bed next to his chair.

Had it been emptiness that had led him to shrivel when he had disappointed Qui-Gon with his pettiness, then blossom upon receiving a touch of camaraderie? Had it been only loneliness that made him react to the feel of the Padawan's body as they carried on the charade to discourage would be bed partners?

Could he forgive them both for finding each other, and leaving him behind?

There had been a line of a song heard on a mission long ago on some dusty and forgotten planet. If you can't be with the one you love, love the one you're with. He had thought it horribly callous and cynical, but at that time he had also thought that true love would happen for everybody. And that it wasn't something to work for, but was something granted, like a gift from the Force.

How remarkable to be proven right on both thoughts in the same night, but from the outside looking in. When in Qui-Gon's presence, he wanted nothing more than for the man to make his offer again. And with his Master's Padawan, he never wanted Qui-Gon to come back so he could have the boy for his own. Yet he would have neither. Because the bond between the two of them was the purest expression of true love he had even been privileged -- or cursed -- to be witness to.

Their bond was almost as addicting as was the physical presence of either man, and Xanatos found himself again opening up his shields to feel it wash over him. He couldn't really meditate yet, should probably not let himself divorce his awareness of the outside world to the depth that would be needed to find serenity again. In times past Xanatos had sometimes used Qui-Gon's intense connection to the Living Force to ground himself when his own control was hard won, and he knew he could draw upon Qui-Gon and this youth's bond to achieve the same. A short cut, and short term, but undoubtedly enough to get him by until he really could lose himself to find his center again. And certainly better than doing nothing other than worrying his thoughts like a pathek chasing its own tail.

Incandescence lit up all the dark spaces in Xanatos' mind, bringing peace, but also highlighting the sheer number of shadows that existed. At once Xanatos was appalled and sought to deny the Darkness within. But to do so would be to let go of the other's light, and that thought hurt worse than those of his failings. Instead he reached out to the light, beginning to search through the other for similar shadows, knowing that if he found them in Qui-Gon's true love, that maybe he wasn't so tainted himself.

He didn't realize that he had pushed through shields no Jedi would breach without invitation, didn't notice that his own bond with Qui-Gon let him spread further into Qui-Gon's bond with another. And he had no idea when he fell into that other's nightmare, losing all sense of awareness.

And self.

For a brief instance his mind rebelled. Xanatos almost realized he was seeing an echo of an earlier memory, the one inadvertently shared by Qui-Gon when they had joined forces again after exiting the cantina. But then one Hutt blended into another and he was kneeling behind the delectable young boy with no thought of anything else.

The boy's pain was addicting. To still invoke mewling reactions in breaching the broken one with his fist even after the boy had already being torn anew by the rigid keratinous foreskin of his cock was music to his ears. But oh, how very much tastier was the howl of denial, the radiating terror when he tore open the little Jedi's mind, when he filled not only the boy's body but soul by sliding in with the Jedi's first convulsive grasp of the Force after thirteen days of empty darkness and shameful, painful brutalization.

It was almost anti-climatic to thrust his cock back into the boy, this time surrounding the organ with his own fingers so that he could still keep his fist lodged within. And when he directed the others by twos to stuff the boy's mouth with their own, it was not so much to hear the smothered whimpers and Buluffa's booming laughter, or to feel the boy's deep gasps and muscle tearing shudders, delightful as all that was. He did it so to draw more minds into this newly Force-forged link all the quicker. To drown the boy in depravity and Darkness. For that was so much more satisfying than just spilling his seed again to mingle with the boy's free flowing blood, or to drink from the jagged agony of a broken body and shattered spirit. In Darkness everyone tasted sweet, but so tasting a Jedi was sheer ecstasy. And oh, so very, very addicting.

He would savor this one a long --

While the force of the hand on his shoulder that flung him away was not quite enough to send him from the bed, the sudden painful reality of his mind slamming back into his own body was. Of course excruciating as that pain was, it was nothing compared to the throbbing ache of his erect penis, or the emotional pain of what he had almost done. Xanatos didn't know whose face held the more horrified look, his or Qui-Gon's and he quickly scrambled toward the 'fresher on shaky legs so as not to have to find out.

He supposed he could take comfort that he hadn't actually raped Qui-Gon's little Padawan, had only gone so far as to climb into the bed with the boy and turn him over, his hands pulling down the sheet. But that brought Xanatos little solace when he found that he had also opened his own pants, had already ejaculated once.

And desperately needed to do so again.

Xanatos couldn't look at himself in the mirror, couldn't look at the hard cock in his hand as he brought himself off, and instantly had to lean over the sink to dispose of anything he had eaten over the last day when he was finished. He had a moments grace to be thankful Qui-Gon's need to soothe his Padawan's distress had overcome his anger to mete out punishment to his former Padawan. That he was given time to clean and straighten himself up though the act of having to do so had him leaning over the sink again.

And he cringed when the door he had slammed behind him opened, tried to drop to his knees to abase himself, but Qui-Gon's arms were quickly around his shoulders, easing him down, apologizing almost in a babble before the Knight could begin with his own begging for forgiveness. Which threw Xanatos' emotions and mind into even more confusion.

It was only as he really listened to Qui-Gon's words that he realized that his former Master didn't know what Xanatos had almost done -- what he had already done -- that his former Master was thinking, somehow, this was his own fault.

"Forgive me, Xani," came Qui-Gon's broken words, bowed over Xanatos' back, forehead resting on the crown of Xanatos' head. As he had occasionally done in Xan's childhood, Qui-Gon's used his big hands to try to bring comfort, rubbing at the clenched muscles in the Knight's stomach and back so that he could master his nausea. "I should have warned you Obi-Wan was a telempath, that you would need to guard yourself, especially since what had happened tonight was so close to the horrors he has kept locked away. Eeth had counseled there would be nightmares just from coming here, and I --"

"Qui-Gon -- Master!" Xanatos called out with a special urgency when his first attempt to stop Qui-Gon failed. Sure enough the tone invoked memories and ties no subsequent Padawan or love could completely sever, and Qui-Gon fell silent, though for a few moments longer those deceptively gentle hands kept up their reassurances.

"I am okay, Master," Xanatos tried to offer his own reassurances. "It's alright. But how is your Pad -- how is Obi-Wan?" What a way to finally learn the boy's true name.

At that Qui-Gon pulled away and regained his feet. Because of his height he was able to just lean over Xanatos to reach the carafe of water that had been delivered with that for bathing, and he quickly poured a glass, then used a bit more to dampen a cloth which he placed on the back of Xan's neck. The Knight accepted both the fussing and the water, eager to get the taste of his sickness out of his mouth though it would take much more to get it out of his mind.

Qui-Gon thought he had been caught up in Obi-Wan's memories, that he had relived the degradation, pain and horror of the boy's rape. The Jedi Master didn't realize that he was right, but that Xanatos had relived it from the other participant's viewpoint. And that he had enjoyed it!

All at once the water came back up Xanatos' throat and he could only lean over and be sick on the floor. By the Light of the Force, what was wrong with him? How could he have taken pleasure in something so base and Dark --

"Xani -- Xan!" It was Qui-Gon's turn to invoke ingrained responses, his voice of command as a Jedi Master, one that Xan would never not be able to respond to. That voice had gotten him through injury, illness, exhaustion and confusion. If anything could also help get Xanatos through Darkness, it would be that voice.

Again Xanatos accepted Qui-Gon's help -- more water -- and he used it to clean up and only rinse his mouth this time. It wasn't enough, of course, his clothing was sticking against his skin from his arousal and sweat, and he wanted nothing more than to strip and bathe in the full tub of water Obi-Wan had begged for him to have drawn again after the Padawan had tried to wash away his own memories. Because it had been requested on Qui-Gon's behalf, Xanatos had had no trouble in agreeing. And could not consider even now, therefore, using it for himself.

"Are you truly better now?" Qui-Gon asked, the expression of concern on his face so very well known. And so very much undeserved at the moment.

Xanatos nodded and straightened up just enough to lean wearily against the tub. On a water poor world such as Tatooine, such was a very costly extravagance, but one no one had blinked about when it had been requested from such a hedonistically renowned racer as Jerom CuWil. He raised his hand to brush fingers against the furrow between Qui-Gon's brow, then the darkening circles of exhaustion under his former Master's eyes.

"We're too close to all being walking wounded," he uttered softly, allowing his own weariness for the day and for this world to show. "I cannot wait to return to Coruscant."

What Xanatos did not say was his wish to return home with Qui-Gon, for he had willingly given up his right to that once, and now would not so presume to try and reclaim it now. It would be enough that they could both be there without the pain the other's proximity would have caused even two days ago. And that it had been Qui-Gon who had brought him to that realization. Who would be the one bringing him home.

"Despite all this," and Xanatos gestured around the small room they both kneeled in, then out toward the sleeper they could both barely see hidden amongst a cocoon of blankets, "he brings you joy?"

The emotion that smoothed away all wrinkles, all echoes of tiredness and lit up Qui-Gon's eyes was answer enough. For a moment Qui-Gon looked as he had on the day Xanatos had agreed to become his Padawan. Happy and scared. Young. He nodded.

"I had all but given up, Xani. Not just from the heartache of you leaving, but with the thought of having only duty left in my life."

"Oh, Qui-Gon, I had never meant to leave you so. Never alone, just ..." But, of course, he had. He had left with vows not only of refusing to stay as partners, but screaming how he had never wanted to even see Qui-Gon again. How he would insure they would not even be on the same planet at the same time --

"It's okay, Xan. What we said then, doesn't matter any more." And Qui-Gon leaned until they touched forehead to forehead, an intimacy quite different than lip to lip, but one that provided exactly what Xanatos needed. Forgiveness. Understanding. And a release of guilt so that they both could go on with their lives, apart, yet together too.

"I think I have a new Padawan myself," Xanatos found himself saying with a hitched laugh.

Qui-Gon pulled back so that their eyes could meet and didn't need to ask his question aloud.

"I know it makes no sense, and that the Council will have a collective fit, but it seems that I have bonded with a young boy, a slave -- former slave," Xan corrected quickly. "He practically breathes the Force. He's had no training, of course, knows nothing about the Force or Jedi other than a boy's tales and dreams, but twice he has allowed me to draw upon his energy when my own was flagging, and after the second joining, I swear that I could feel the beginning of a bond."

"He's one of the ones you are currently protecting?"

Xanatos nodded. "It first started as just an opportunity to free him and his mother from the Toydarian who owned their papers, but now I can't see myself leaving them here, even if they are free. Anakin needs to be able to see that his world can become so much more than being a slave, or even a former slave. He should be able to realize his potential, to be taught in our ways."

Qui-Gon shifted back on his heels with a thoughtful look that Xanatos had long recognized was his Master's face when seeking a course of action through the Force. "How old is he?"

"Seven or eight, I think. He's small for his age, but not particularly scrawny and shows little evidence of being maltreated other than being born into a life of servitude. I have been led to believe that he and his mother had been owned by a Hutt for all of his life until most recent, and --"

At the mention of Hutt, both Xanatos and Qui-Gon turned to look again beyond the open door of the 'fresher, and were reminded that necessary though their reconciliation had been, they had other concerns, and others to be concerned for. Xanatos let Qui-Gon help him up, then in turn put a hand around his former Master's waist to steady him when they took their first steps back into the bedroom. Qui-Gon's compulsion for sleep had worked much better than Xanatos' for young Obi-Wan, but even so they could still see signs of distress in the youth though, fortunately, no full born nightmare had come upon him again. If they were lucky, even this smaller distress might be relieved by Qui-Gon's presence. Xanatos knew Qui-Gon's own unease would pass if he stayed with his Padawan.

"You might have noticed a full tub of water in the 'fresher," he began, and also started in on unfastening the zippers of Qui-Gon's uniform as he often had his Master's Jedi tunics when he had been younger. "There are two heat bricks keeping it warm, and we've spent an obscene amount of money that shouldn't go to waste," he continued with a small push directing Qui-Gon back toward the bath. "You'll feel better for the chance to clean up, and your Padawan will be glad you have appreciated his gift."

True, Xanatos had actually paid for it with some of King Veruna's money given to the Jedi for his daughter's protection, but it had been Obi-Wan's thought -- his need for himself, then consideration for his Master, and not something Xanatos would have figured out on his own. Though he should have. There was something intrinsically valuable about being able to get clean, both physically and figuratively. Psychically. And wasn't this a night where not only physical but spiritual cleansing was especially needed.

"But I should --"

"If something again begins to happen, I will gladly let you take my place, Qui-Gon. But he should be alright in the time you would take, and I am forewarned now to the dangers he has presented to me."

Including that which Qui-Gon knew -- would know -- nothing about, if it was at all within Xanatos' power and control. Not only fear and anger led to suffering and the Darkside. So, too, could passion. Lust. And coveting something that didn't belong to you. Someone. Either someone. He might have preferred to have been shown the dangers in his thoughts by some way not quite so fraught with Darkness, but this had been a lesson Xanatos had wholeheartedly learned.

"I won't be long --"

"I know," and Xanatos let his fondness shine through. Friends were just as important as lovers.

*************

Laying between the two he loved the most, Qui-Gon had a moment of contentment despite the circumstances that had led him to his position and were keeping him awake. It had been much easier to convince Xanatos to share the water after Qui-Gon had finished bathing than it had the bed, even though they had needed to do both often enough in the early days of their pairing so as to no longer feel embarrassment; Tatooine was not the only water or lodging poor world the Jedi traveled upon.

Xan had expressed concern that he would be intruding, and no doubt still had a residual distress if not out and out fear from what had happened earlier. But finally he had crawled into bed, moving to no surprise, to lay on Qui-Gon's left instead of Obi-Wan's right. He understood Xan's reluctance, not only did he still distrust that Obi-Wan might not inadvertently again draw either or both of them back into his haunted memories, but there was also the very real fact that Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan were lovers, and that Qui-Gon had never before shown a desire to share. Yet Qui-Gon had insisted he stay, would have insisted even if there wasn't a need to talk, to plan about how they would get to Xan's charges and leave from Tatooine come the following day.

In truth, Qui-Gon would need to talk to both of his Padawans, and not just about the escape. He would suggest that the two of them talk to each other, even if they didn't want him present. It wasn't enough that he and Xan had reconciled (though thank the Force they had). No, he was selfish enough to want Obi-Wan and Xanatos to become friends, as he wanted both of them in his life. Or at least for the two to come to terms with the jealousy Xan felt about Obi-Wan, and the envy Obi-Wan had shown toward Xan. As Mace had tried to point out, Qui-Gon's heart was big enough to love them both in each their own special way. And he had no doubt their hearts were bigger than his own.

He also had to believe there was a purpose to everything, even the bad. Especially the bad. The Force was so much a part of his life that he would be the hypocrite Mace had accused him of being four (only four?) days ago, if he gave the Force its due only for its blessings. As he tried to find the reasons for the terrible things Obi-Wan had needed to experience six years ago, so must he give thought to why things had happened as they had tonight. What had the Force been telling them, showing them? And how might they all grow from the experience?

Certainly they had been shown Darkness, not only in others, but in themselves. Xanatos' sense of betrayal, his jealousies and desire to strike back had been evidenced more than once, as had Qui-Gon's own possessiveness and rage. It hurt that again it was Obi-Wan who had been made to suffer to show them their failings, but Qui-Gon had to admit that he wasn't sure Xanatos would have ever been able to overcome his resentment of Qui-Gon's new Padawan and lover, if his former Padawan's sense of moral outrage and protectiveness hadn't been invoked by what Obi-Wan had been made to endure.

Even the telempathic sharing had served a purpose, for it had broken down the last of the self imposed barriers Qui-Gon and Xanatos had raised between each other, and had led to their new understanding of what they could still mean to each other. While not the great, true love of each other's life, they had found that they could still love one another as the father and son of each other's heart. No longer was that too much for Xanatos, or too little for Qui-Gon.

But what might Obi-Wan have learned?

Qui-Gon could hope that his Padawan had discovered that he was indeed as strong as others thought him to be, and much stronger than he had thought of himself, not only in being able to endure whatever he might have to, but in learning that it was alright to need other people. To trust other people. Certainly not everyone lived by the same moral compass as a Jedi, and sometimes only a sense of duty and an understanding of the Force got the Jedi through so many things. But it was the people they served and served with, who made that duty more than just something to bear. And it was only through others that the Light of the Force truly shone.

That was a lesson they all needed reminding of now and again.

Chapter Ten

Hugh Panaka had to wonder if it was only the need to stay hidden that was keeping his young Princess from expressing her outrage in any manner other than her stony silence and refusal to meet another's eye. Amidala was definitely not one to rant as her father was, was much more given to brooding then yelling, but certainly he had heard her more than once flay the skin off of a fool with her vocal disapproval. And he had to think that it was actually more embarrassment than anger right now, that was keeping her from commenting on the fact that she had been compelled to go to sleep as if she were a young child instead of the heir to a planet. Embarrassment and disappointment -- disillusionment -- that her shining Jedi Knight had treated her so. That he did only see her as a child.

In truth, it had been that willingness to so vex his Princess that Hugh found himself beginning to actually like the Knight. It wasn't that he hadn't trusted Xanatos before then, at least as much as he could trust anyone not born of Naboo to treat the protection of his sovereign with the proper regard. Although the Lieutenant had never personally met a Jedi before the chaos of the attempted palace coup, he had certainly come to believe the rumors and reputation of them when he got his first glimpse then of Xanatos in action. And there had been little the Jedi had done since their crashing on this blighted planet that had led Hugh to regret entrusting Amidala's life to him.

Other than, perhaps, the serious case of hero-worship the young Princess had been developing.

Circumstances last night, however, seemed to have set that to right, given as to how Amidala was fuming today. When she did talk -- which was extremely infrequently -- it wasn't so much that she was disparaging the Knight personally, as she was questioning whether his ideas were what was best for not only for their own survival, but for the boy. Hugh knew she had been greatly bothered by Xanatos' using of Anakin's energy to heal himself without the boy's consent. And his use of Anakin the second time, well, of course the boy had agreed. For who wouldn't be flattered to be asked to help a Jedi Knight? Who wouldn't want to think that they might have the stuff of Jedi in their own blood?

Amidala had the luxury of being upset, as she had yet to be called upon to make that kind of decision. To make the trade off between morality and expediency, to choose to do something that might harm one in order to bring about benefit for the greater good. And Hugh actually was glad to see that Amidala still held onto to that last bit of naivetŽ, for all too soon her innocence would be stripped away. When she became ruler instead of heir.

Which might be even now, for all they knew of the fate of her father and their planet.

It was obvious that Amidala was also thinking along those same lines. Today she was studying the history primer that had somehow ended up with their survival supplies, not as a tool to escape boredom, but with a real eye to what some of the past practices and traditions meant. And would mean. Hugh's heart had skipped a beat to see a streak of blood that adorned her face upon rising, fearing somehow she had been injured and had been keeping such from him or Sabe. Nor had he actually felt any better to see her spread the blood across her top lip and in a thumb-wide streak centering the bottom. Such markings were the Scar of Remembrance, once used to commemorate the Time of Great Struggle on Naboo, before the Time of Great Peace.

Was she seeing the coming days as another Time of Great Struggle for her people? Or did she just want to be recognized in the end for who she was and where she came from, because she didn't have the confidence any longer that they were ever going to get home?

Hugh had an awful feeling that it might very well be both.

***********

Obi-Wan's first awareness was of feeling warm, of something almost akin to a pleasing contentment. But then he realized that part of the warmth came from somebody's arms wrapped tightly about his chest and in an instant, partial memories of the night came rushing back to him.

How could there be contentment in awakening after a night of entertaining his captors, after being given to someone as a toy to spend the next day with?

He stifled his cry so as not to wake the one who held him, then had to struggle even more as memories of something different, something better flooded his mind's eye. Those were only dreams, a glimpse of a future he would never have. A sending of the Force that was going to drive him crazy if it hadn't already.

In thinking of the Force, Obi-Wan suddenly realized that he could actually sense it. His restraints were gone! But it could only be a trick, another way to hurt him. Or for him to hurt someone else again. Even so, he couldn't help but to use it to run an assessment over his body, to catalogue the bruises and aches though there were far fewer than he had come to expect after such a night.

When he discovered he was wearing no restraints at all, he couldn't resist slipping out from those arms and leaving the bed without a look to see what manner of being that held onto him. Although true escape was impossible, he could at least hide away in the 'fresher and put off having to find out what was expected of him today for a little while longer.

It wasn't until he was through the door that his mind recognized that not only was there none of the aches in places that too often left him stiff and limping, but that he had actually putting his full weight on his knee! Even though he hadn't felt them, he had to then look in the mirror to see there were no tracks of tears -- and what he saw looking back at him was not the sixteen year old boy he had been expecting.

Reality twisted.

Memories flooded through him. This time he couldn't help but cry out from the jumble of overwhelming sensation and emotions, and reflexively he reached out to his new touchstone of peace in the chaos that was his life. Only to then realized that he was also transmitting the same confusion and images to his Master. He cut off their link by bringing up his shields so rapidly that the intensity of the resultant headache sent him to his knees. And in the next instant over the seat of the commode.

Because he had already vomited any food the night before, he could only dry heave. And now he could feel the tears, from the stomach cramps and raw throat, as well as from all of his reactions upon awakening. How could he have forgotten Qui-Gon? And how could he face Qui-Gon after he had forgotten him? After he had equated his lover with one of the various creatures that had toyed and hurt him?

The door opened beside him, but Obi-Wan didn't lift his head as someone knelt next to him. Or show the surprise he felt that the footsteps and hand on his shoulder were not Qui-Gon's. Not that he should have been -- he had pretty much said no to wanting Qui-Gon when he had blocked their link, after all.

But Xanatos?

Xanatos had been jealousy from the first, and had felt betrayed in being replaced. Quite understandable, Obi-Wan conceded. He thought he was a pretty poor replacement for the Knight too.

"Qui-Gon has stepped out to see if he can find something to break our fast and settle your stomach."

Xanatos' tone wasn't one of humor exactly, but it was certainly more friendly than Obi-Wan had expected. More open. And sympathetic, without being patronizing or judgmental. Although he wasn't really ready to join into any small talk, Obi-Wan allowed himself to relax enough to let Xanatos know he had been heard. And that his company wasn't completely unwelcome.

Obi-Wan slowly lifted his head and turned toward the Knight. "He told you what happened then?" He supposed he should feel some sort of embarrassment. He should have at least been bothered that Xanatos knew as it wouldn't do anything to help Xanatos change his opinion on Obi-Wan's suitability as a companion for his former Master. He was just too tired, however, to feel much of anything.

Xanatos showed the embarrassment. "Ah ...you kinda told me yourself when we touched as I gave you my coat last night, then more after you had fallen asleep."

Oh. Of course.

The nightmares had been harsh enough that Obi-Wan had mistaken them for reality. Some one Force sensitive, not to mention with a link of his own with Qui-Gon, could easily have been drawn into them.

"I'm sorry."

Xanatos' hand moved from Obi-Wan's shoulder to his neck, and started to slowly rub. "I know," the Knight said, accepting the apology instead of just trying to pass it off. "And I'm sorry too. For what happened to you and for what needing to come here for me is doing to you."

His touch was soothing, not sexual, and the energy he sent through the Force was so much like Qui-Gon's that Obi-Wan ached as much as found comfort from it. But it made sense that the two would be similar, especially through the Force, since so much of Qui-Gon went into shaping Xanatos.

"I had to come because he had to come." Obi-Wan did not bother with platitudes about how it really wasn't a bother. They both knew Obi-Wan would have never come anywhere near Tatooine to save a Jedi he didn't know, except for Qui-Gon. Not when so many others could have completed the mission. "He wasn't about to let someone take his place."

"I find I am vain enough to be glad you didn't make him choose between us," Xanatos said with something akin to a smile. "I don't know if I could have had the strength to do it myself ," he continued, when Obi-Wan would have made protest. "You have my respect and my gratitude, Padawan Kenobi."

Xanatos then moved his head closer. Unable to rebuff what he assumed would be a kiss of compassion, Obi-Wan closed his eyes and tried to hold himself very still.

That was enough to stop the Knight.

Or perhaps it was just the door to the main room opening again. Both men rose in alert, then relaxed to sense Qui-Gon.

"Out," he said abruptly. If he was going to face food -- and especially Qui-Gon -- Obi-Wan needed to bathed again, even if he had only sand to use this time instead of water. "I need to clean up before I see if Qui-Gon is better as a forager than he is as a pilot."

Humor to hide distress. And why not. He had passed all the trials this mission had thrown against him -- maybe only by the skin of his teeth -- but survived nonetheless. He had accepted Qui-Gon as his strength and had managed to let another offer comfort in words and companionship, if not touch. All that was left was fooling the other racers and the fans one more time, then they could gather up Xan's princess and leave.

As Qui-Gon joined them at the door, exaggerated sorrow spilled across Xanatos' face and the Jedi Master drew himself to his full height.

"I'll have you know I am a fabulous cook," Qui-Gon said in full outrage. He then sniffed. "But it is impossible to do anything special with setta fruit or nerf steaks, which is all I could find."

"Oh, not this early in the morning," Xanatos bemoaned and clutched theatrically at his stomach. "How any non-carnivore can even think about eating meat at their first meal, I will never understand."

Obi-Wan shoed the others away; their discussion on the merits of a meat versus meatless meal seeming to have originated long before this morning. He wasn't sure he was yet up to taking sides on anything to have to do with food. Or to take part in any sort of banter.

Just as he began sliding off the robe he really didn't recall putting on the night before, there was a knock and the door reopened. Qui-Gon stepped back in and shut it immediately behind him. Obi-Wan had only a stutter of hesitation before he let the robe fall from his fingers.

"Obi-Wan, are you --"

But Obi-Wan didn't want any more discussions, didn't want to think about the night before, his past, or his troubles upon awakening. He glided up against Qui-Gon's chest, against his lips and silenced his Master while still giving answer to his question. It was an unexpected moment of passion, in part from an uncharacteristic thrill to think about doing anything when Xanatos stood only a few feet beyond. Qui-Gon responded to his slight parting of lips with a skillful sharing that left no room for discussions or memories.

It could have escalated, even the merest of touches seemed lead to passion between them, but neither were truly aroused. The closeness, the feel of one another in body and mind and the reassurance that things were getting better, was what they craved.

"I would offer to help sand your back," Qui-Gon began as they finally ended their kiss. They hadn't yet loosened their hold on each other, however, and he was gently stroking what he had offered to clean. "But Xan would eat all of the fruit then.

Obi-Wan couldn't help but arch up a little into that warm touch. "You had best go rescue breakfast then."

Qui-Gon pressed another kiss against Obi-Wan's lips, then to his eyelids and forehead. "And we need to discuss how we are going to manage today."

*****************

Their plans lasted only until they found out Tatooine's Space Authority had grounded all flights around Mos Espy and over the nearby Dune Sea until the completion of the day's races. Now they would have to steal away, avoiding any guards and bypassing the port authorities, then override the docking clamps and outrun any orbital enforcers. Qui-Gon was pleased to have Obi-Wan's suggestion that they try their escape during his race. And he agreed that with the popularity of the cycles second only to the pod-racing that would happen late in the afternoon. most businesses would simply shut down all day since their buyers would be otherwise occupied. When Xanatos pointed out that those same people would be searching out Jerom when he failed to show, Qui-Gon had another moment of pride at Obi-Wan's softly voiced response.

No one would be looking for Jerom, if Jerom was racing. And if Jerom and Quinn had a public disagreement beforehand because Quinn wanted to keep Xan with them, few people would be surprised to see Quinn and Xan together somewhere other than at the race. Sellis would certainly step forward to help Jerom prep his cycle.

And so they had hammered out the new plan. While Obi-Wan raced, Qui-Gon and Xanatos would sneak his charges from Naboo out of the junkyard and into their borrowed ship. The Knight would then go for Shmi while Qui-Gon returned to watch the race. Instead of finishing, however, Obi-Wan would fake a crash during the second circuit of one of the more isolated stretches of the course. Despite their argument, no one would think anything odd of Quinn checking on Jerom, and it shouldn't attract the wrong attention when they returned the wreckage directly to their ship, as there was no better place to store the pieces anyway.

Even when Jerom didn't show up for the ceremonies afterward, the fans and other riders wouldn't particularly worry about his absence. That shouldn't happen until he missed the evening parties. But by then it would be too late as they'd have already departed. Which would leave those who followed the circuit to remember the most prevalent rumor for Jerom's first disappearance, and few would think twice about him disappearing after a second such crash. Thus the racer's reputation wouldn't particularly suffer, assuming the real Jerom ever decided to take up racing again.

The first three parts of the plan came together without a hitch. Obi-Wan put on a sufficient performance as a jealous lover; he actually had more folks willing to ... console him than even the real Jerom would have probably known what to do with. Fortunately, between not wanting to cross Bob or Sellis, plus Obi-Wan's real need to prep for the race, the other volunteers were willing to wait for their opportunities with him afterward.

Collecting the refugees and getting them to the ship had gone smoothly too, assuming Qui-Gon ignored the disdain of the Princess, and the hyper-state of the boy. Anakin had wanted to watch the racing with Qui-Gon, then insisted on accompanying Xan back for his mother. Despite stern words from both Jedi, Qui-Gon expected the request of company from the Princess had more to do with his final capitulation.

Hers, or perhaps the sight of Qui-Gon retrieving his and Obi-Wan's lightsabers. Even one so young recognized the danger they represented to the Jedi if caught with one.

Obi-Wan's vision that the danger for them would be worse without, had come as Xanatos was talking about locking his own up on the ship to insure the Knight wouldn't be tempted to use it as he had the night before. Obi-Wan hadn't foreseen any need to carry his own, but was insistent the other two take theirs. So Qui-Gon now carried two, as he and Xan covered the first part of the journeys together.

Just in case Obi-Wan was not properly looking to his own safety.

"Damn, he really is prescient, isn't he?," Xanatos observed sotto voce. Just ahead of them, three belligerent looking males stepped out of a doorway. All held weapons pointed toward the two Jedi.

"Yes," Qui-Gon nodded. "And I don't think this is a simple assault or robbery," he then murmured as they studied the trio. They had the look of soldiers, mercenaries or bounty hunters, not thieves. Although they were not of the same species, all three were wearing similar body armor and carried well worn, but also well-maintained weapons. Qui-Gon thought he recognize the Dresserian from the lower room of the cantina. None of the three, though, wore a mark of the Hutts. At least not openly.

"Something we can help you gentlemen with?" Qui-Gon and Xanatos kept moving forward, slowly, and slightly apart to put more room between each other.

"You can keep yourself still," the smaller of the three, the furred Shistavanen barked out. "And drop your blasters and blades to the ground."

Qui-Gon let both arms fall away from his body, not removing the weapons, but obviously not going for them, either. From their long years of association, he knew Xanatos would be waiting for his lead.

"We mean you no harm," the Jedi Master began, letting the Force creep into his voice. "You have no reason to detain us." He waved his hand slowly, its movement directing their attention thusly, just as his tone worked upon their suggestibility. It was one of the mind tricks Obi-Wan had teased him about Masters overusing upon their first meeting, one Qui-Gon was quite skilled at.

And, perhaps, a bit too practiced as accused, although he had never used Force manipulation to influence the outcome of any of his diplomatic missions. That was wrong, even when it might produce an outcome more favorable to all the parties involved. But he would use it on an individual basis anytime it was necessary to save a life. Even his own. Because it also generally saved the lives of those who were threatening him.

Three were rarely more difficult than one, since so much of the technique was in the audio and visual components. And his command of the Force was usually sufficient to bring to bear upon as many as five at a time, presuming they were all of species who were susceptible. Unfortunately, seven was a stretch. Especially when three of the newest arrivals appeared behind the two Jedi, thus splitting his attention and concentration.

"We know you will do us no harm, Quinn."

This came from one of the ones behind him, but Qui-Gon didn't need to turn to recognize the voice of Jabba's Twi'lek. "Do as you were told, disarm and then come with us. Jabba has decided he would like you to watch the remainder of the race from within his booth."

"I would not so impose on Jabba's hospitality." Qui-Gon slowly moved to face the new threat, knowing Xanatos would shift to cover his back.

"So you are giving up Jerom for this older one?" The Twi'lek's smile was full of sharp teeth and sharper lust.

"What happens between us is our own business," Qui-Gon snapped. "Jerom is still racing under my colors and because of my entrance fee. Nor do I think he is too keen to be a recipient of Jabba's favor quite so soon again. Or your own. Be content in your winnings. There are plenty of other racers who would kill for Jabba's patronage."

"Ah, yes, that is so," the Twi'lek agreed, stroking a hand across his rightmost lekku which writhed slowly across his own chest. "Plenty who would kill -- and would die for Jabba!" He snapped his fingers and two more joined the seven who now surrounded Qui-Gon and Xanatos. Two of the three Codru-Ji from the night before, the two who had assisted the other Obi-Wan had soundly beaten.

"Unfortunately their brother's foolishness got him killed and left them with his debt to Jabba." The Twi'lek smiled in pure malice again. "Fortunately, they were more than happy to think of ways to pay off their brother's debt."

Qui-Gon let his expression show some his concern. Having the Twi'lek think him sufficiently cowed would give him more time to prepare.

Since their bonding of nearly two weeks ago, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan had not been farther apart than the lengths of the Jedi Temple on Coruscant when Obi-Wan was confined to Healers Hall, or when he had left his Padawan with Xanatos last night and this morning, but going no more than three miles away in any instance. And so they had never tested the strength of that bond, hadn't really needed to before now. Distance was not a factor in knowing the general state and health of one another, but in telepathy it was. As was the relative strength of the shielding in place between them.

Upon their separation a couple of hours ago, they had agreed to lightly shield against one another so that neither would prove a distraction in handling their respective tasks. When the race had begun, Qui-Gon had shored his up a little more, not because he didn't want to know what Obi-Wan was feeling, but again because too much emotion leaking through could cause harm instead of help. Being so tightly focused on the race, little would have been coming through from Obi-Wan, regardless.

But now Qui-Gon needed to break that concentration, which might very well precipitate the crash they were planning, but not at a time of Obi-Wan's choosing. Or at the location only four miles away that they had chosen.

"This is how a Hutt honors his deal?" Qui-Gon growled, even as he dropped his shields and began questing with his mind.

"No, this is how the Hutts deals with Jedi," came yet another voice, a female voice, from up above them. A tenth challenger then jumped down from a three story rooftop. Hers held an even more malicious smile on her young, albino face. Exhibiting no difficulty in landing from a drop that would have injured or killed almost anyone else in the street, she did not even sound winded as she lifted a hand toward her face and shouted, "do it!" into the small communicator contained within.

Qui-Gon started for his saber, knowing Xanatos was doing the same. He had also managed to telepathically reach Obi-Wan, but barely had time to register his Padawan's surprise, to hear a startled "Aurra, no!" from the Twi'lek and "I know you," choked out from Xanatos before vision and reality overlapped and overwhelmed his lowered shields.

He didn't know if he was hearing the explosion from his own ears or from Obi-Wan's before their link was shut down with an abruptness that meant unconsciousness. Or death. He had no opportunity to confirm which, or to even deal with the headache from backlash, for suddenly those around them began to move, to fire and Qui-Gon needed to worry about his own survival.

"Too bad you didn't remember that last night, Xanatos," the woman identified by the Twi'lek as Aurra taunted as the two Jedi twisted and leapt to avoid and ward off eight simultaneous blaster bolts.

"You were in some of my classes at the temple!"

Her laugh was harsh as she wove amongst those firing, not using her own gun, nor yet drawing the cylinder Qui-Gon noticed she wore at her belt. Even with the Twi'lek fleeing as the shooting started, and another three falling in those first seconds from shots deflected at them, the outcome was still in question, the danger not diminished if Aurra was truly once a Jedi. Qui-Gon began to move toward her, leaving Xanatos to deal with most of the shooters who, at the moment, were going for cover instead of offering a serious threat.

"But not enough of them, Xanatos of Telos," Aurra snarled. "Not before my Master took me on a mission I could never have studied enough for." Her eyes settled on Qui-Gon and something in them hardened.

With Xan's memories Qui-Gon now recognized her himself, and with his own memories of her Master breaking down in his arms when Plo Koon had come back without her.

"That's right, Master Jinn," she laughed again in seeing his anguish. "How is dear old Master Koon these days?"

"But you were dead, Alica," he whispered hoarsely. "There was a body, the link was severed --"

"My name is Aurra Sing!" the one-time Jedi Padawan screamed. "Of course there was a body! The Hutts have been stealing Jedi children for years so they could breed their own in case they couldn't find ways to control the Order. They have bodies, and Dark Ones who can break links, break training -- but then you know all about that, don't you Master Jinn," she said suddenly, her pale tongue sneaking out to lick away the blood on her lip that she had brought to the surface in her initial fury.

Qui-Gon couldn't help but reach out into the Force for Obi-Wan as she paused, his mind full of his Padawan's memories of his Dark tormentor, striving to make sure their link was still present. That he still had someone to link to.

"I had been taken by the Hutts five years before your delicious Padawan now pretending to be a racer joined us, Qui-Gon." She licked her lips again. "My only regret is that I wasn't the one who shredded his innocence. But thanks to you, Xani, it looks like I'll get a chance to take his sanity." She turned her oh so innocent looking face toward the gasping Knight. "If you want to join me, I'm sure Jabba will find a place for you."

"I'd rather die than be a slave!"

Aurra laughed again with the fervor of someone not quite sane. "Oh, Xani, not as a slave. I said join me. Join us. Don't you want him again? You have already taken the first steps."

Regardless of the danger, Qui-Gon found himself freezing at the implication. As did Xanatos. Although three more of the shooters had either run or had fallen, the two other than Aurra were still eager to prove their prowess. And Qui-Gon was too far away, too conflicted and slow to deflect the bolt that took Xanatos high up in his chest. The Jedi Master watched his former Padawan fall. And did nothing more but dodge to save his own life.

"Choices for you, too, Master Jinn," Aurra called out. "I'll be leaving you now, but I've called in a few more friends to keep you company. You can run and save your own life, but abandon your fallen Knight. Or try to save him and lose both your lives. Don't worry about little Ben. If he proves as talented as I remember him to be, he'll have plenty of Masters willing to take care of him."

Chapter Eleven

Sabe bit her lip to keep from screaming. It wasn't that her arm pained her so much, although it did hurt worse now than it had when she had first broken it as she tried to keep it tucked to her breasts. No, her desire to scream came from sheer frustration.

Having convinced Amidala and Hugh that she was the only one expendable enough to chase after Ani when the boy had gone pounding down the boarding ramp of the pretty little ship they'd been waiting and relaxing on, she had never expected it to take this long to catch up to him. It wasn't that she regretted needing to remind Padme that now that they had found relative safety, it was a Princess' duty to stay safe so she could be delivered back to her people. Or that if the worst happened and none of the Jedi returned to take her home, Lieutenant Panaka could pilot the ship and get them out of there. Even fully healthy, Sabe could not perform either of those tasks and with her injury, the only use she had been so far was in standing watch.

Nor was she quite cold enough to think of abandoning Ani to whatever fate awaited him when he had bolted, though she was ashamed to acknowledge that she had thought it, if only for a moment.

Sabe had made up the start he had had on her so that she was only a few steps behind him now. But she couldn't seem to close that last bit of distance, and he still had the advantage of knowing the town and being able to slip into places her arm and her size wouldn't allow. Her only advantage seemed to be that Ani wasn't exactly sure where he was going. He started down paths just to suddenly veer off and had backtracked more than once. But it was his latest shortcut through a building that, although not abandoned, was at least currently empty of inhabitants to give them trouble for trespassing that made her dig in her heels.

"Anakin Skywalker, stop!" she shouted, using the voice of command she would one day need in her guise as the Queen's decoy. She couldn't believe the boy's stamina. Here she was at twice his age and well into her training as a bodyguard, but hers was the only breath coming out in great, shuddering pants.

"I can't!" he called back, actually sounding regretful. As if he understood that what he was doing was wrong. And dangerous. Perhaps remembering it had only been the day before when other creatures had been chasing him in a run like this, creatures who were willing to shoot first and ask questions later.

"Then at least slow down and let me catch up," Sabe countered. "Or tell me where you are going?" she added more to herself when he seemed to catch a second wind and disappear around the next corner. Sabe grimaced and clutched her arm tighter to her body, then reached down for her own reserves. Amidala seemed to like the boy, and the Jedi Knight had asked them to look after him. She would do her duty.

In the end it wasn't Anakin slowing down on his own that allowed Sabe to catch up, but the situation he had finally run himself into. Coming around a blind corner they found themselves in the middle of a firefight involving the Jedi.

In her first glance Sabe saw that Knight Xanatos was down, and that Anakin was determined to go out to the Jedi regardless of the number of blaster bolts zinging about the street. She lunged and managed to latch onto the hem of his rough-spun shirt. Clothing on Tatooine might not be made of the finest materials, but they were sturdy. And so was her grip. She held on, then tugged him back to her, finally lifting him off his feet so he'd have no leverage against her as he struggled to free himself.

"No," she ordered again, this time in a harsh whisper. "You'll get them both killed if you go out there and the Jedi Master has to protect you instead of himself or Xanatos." She knew Xanatos had introduced the other Jedi, but she'd be damned if she could remember his name right now.

That stopped Anakin up short. "But I've got to help!" he still wailed.

Sabe didn't look into the eyes she just knew would be welling up. Instead she took another assessment of the situation. Whether the help came from Anakin, herself, or someone else, it was as obvious to her as it had been to Ani that the Jedi needed it. They were fully exposed in the middle of the street and the only reason the fight wasn't already over was the skill and speed of the older Jedi. Sabe had never seen a Jedi fight before, but she still had the most definite feeling she would never see another who was better.

Just maybe he would be able to finish off his opponents without her help, but Sabe figured he also wouldn't mind the assist. She withdrew her small blaster from its concealed holster and passed it over to Anakin; its size would fit better into his tiny hands than would one taken from one of the dead bodies just beyond. She hoped the ability the boy had already shown using the Force could make up for any lack of skill.

"Let me get his gun," she gestured to the body, "and I'll set up at the doorway," she pointed across the way they had come. "Maybe if we can distract the gunmen, the Jedi Master can get Xanatos to safety." Another opening stood across from the street theirs had teed into. While Sabe would have preferred they not stay separated across the full length of the street, it was better than being closer to the Jedi in the unprotected middle.

"Ready?" she mouthed, when she had retrieved and looked over the blaster she now held, then scampered back into the recess to Anakin's right. The boy nodded. His eyes were huge, scared, but they also showed a determination that sent a chill down Sabe's back.

Their targets were further to the right, a cluster of four who had overturned a cart and were using it for cover. As long as the gunmen stayed back there, the Jedi could do nothing but defend and hope for a target of opportunity. He couldn't use both his saber to deflect bolts and pull his blaster from the leg sheath Sabe had seen earlier, and so would likely tire before they did.

No doubt there would also be reinforcements if what Xanatos had said about Jedi being here on Tatooine were true. That more hadn't already shown up had to either be due to everyone's preoccupation with the racing, or because the sheer number of bodies already fallen to the Jedi had led them to go back not only for more companions, but for some weaponry heavier than personal blasters.

Thank the ancient gods of her people that droids didn't hold up well in the desert conditions. Had there even been one destroyer droid present ...

Sabe put out of her mind the thoughts of how things could get worse and instead began reciting the words of her small arms instructor. Before four days ago, she had never shot a weapon at anything other than targets. A part of her was horrified to see the bright arc of light exploding into flame and agony, to hear the startled bleat of pain, and she could even fancy she could smell the burning of cloth and flesh though that could just as easily be from any of the other bodies that littered this intersection. But another part of her was thrilled to see that she had paid attention, that her instructor's praise was not just empty platitudes, and that she had ended one threat to the Jedi.

Anakin's shot followed quickly on the heels of her own. Even though he missed, they got the reaction Sabe had hoped for. And the Jedi Master needed no time to recover from his own surprise. Almost faster than she could follow, he disengaged and reattached his lightsaber to his belt so that he could scoop an unmoving Xanatos up into his arms.

Sabe and Anakin kept firing, even as one of the gunman turned back toward the retreating Jedi. Between the three of them, two more of the gunmen fell. The fourth and now last, quickly drew back from the smoking cart and began sprinting away, his heavy footsteps echoing across the eerie silence that suddenly filled their surroundings.

Again the Jedi moved without needing to do more than react to the changing situation. Even as Sabe noted from the corner of her eye that he was beginning to head her way, he was suddenly there, and she felt a firm hand on her shoulder.

"Thank you," he said, and beckoned for Anakin to cross and join them. He was then lowering Xanatos to the ground and had started to peel back the jacket, though his face was grave.

There wasn't much blood, of course, but the bolt should have caused horrendous burns both from impact and in igniting the cloth. Except that the cloth hadn't burned more than at the point of impact. The Jedi looked surprised, then cautiously pleased, and peeled back the underlayer of Xanatos shirt. It and his skin was barely singed.

"Of course! He is wearing Captain Magreta's jacket," Sabe said with a happy laugh of her own. "Captain Magreta is -- was the commander of the Princess' guard," she explained. "And all of our guard uniforms have battle plating sewn in --"

"So why is he unconscious?" Anakin asked. He was running his hand though the part of Xanatos' beautiful hair that had also been burned in the altercation.

"There was also a Dark Jedi here," the Jedi Master said distractedly as he moved his hands to the sides of Xanatos' face. "She attacked in different ways --" His words ended in a gasp when Anakin moved one of his hands over the elder's. For a moment Sabe could almost see the transference of energy, but then didn't have to as Xanatos abruptly awakened with a gasp of his own.

"Master --"

"Go with them, let them help you back to the ship and get it prepared." Now that Xanatos was awake, the elder Jedi was no longer looking at his companion.

"You are not coming with us?" Sabe asked of the Master. The urgency had not left them; her earlier fears of reinforcements were still a very real possibility.

"Not without my Padawan."

Sabe felt Xanatos flinch at that as she managed to get her good hand under one of the Knight' shoulders and helped him sit up. Then, with Anakin pulling on his arms, they got him to his feet.

"You can't face them alone," Xanatos was saying, his voice still thick and hoarse, his balance unsteady.

The Jedi Master responded with his back still turned to them. "And you are in no shape to come with me. If we are not there within half an hour, take off without us and get your charges to Coruscant."

"But what about my mom!"

That finally got the Master's attention to turn toward them, and his pale expression of regret matched Xanatos'.

"Ani," the Knight began, "I --"

"You don't care!" the boy cried out. "You are just like all the rest of the owners. You say one thing, but --"

"Anakin!" Sabe dropped her hold on the Knight and grabbed for the boy. She would not let him get away from her this time. Kneeling down so as to face him eye to eye, Sabe held him by the chin.

"Anakin, your mother is safe right now, where she is. But you are not if you go back, as she would not be if the Jedi went to get her. Too many people are out hunting right now. You must be brave. And patient. You need to help Jedi Xanatos or none of us will be safe ever again."

"But --"

"I know it hurts, Ani, and it is okay to cry." Like words or anything could have stopped him from that at this point. Sabe clutched him tighter.

"I had to leave my own family," she whispered into his ear. "So did Padme. My parents, and her father are most likely now dead, but your mother isn't. And won't be, not for a long, long time, didn't you tell us this morning? That you knew she'd be alive when you married Padme after she was Queen?"

Of course, if the King was dead, Padme -- the Princess -- would now be Queen.

While Anakin sniffled on her shoulder and just held on, Sabe turned her head enough to the Jedi Master to release him to do what he needed to do. She didn't say anything, knew she didn't need to tell him she would see to both Xanatos and Anakin. And that none of them could stay here any longer to argue. Or cry.

Once again she felt his steady hand on her shoulder. This time his touch tingled and she knew he was transferring some of his energy to her, but she shrugged away before he could expend too much. She would not take away what he would need.

**********

Xanatos let Qui-Gon's anguish roll over him, as he did Anakin's. For a moment more he wallowed in the guilt his failures produced in him, but then followed his Master's example and that from the little handmaiden, turning his mind away from his own feelings to dwell instead on duty.

Although Aurra had said she was working for the Hutts, the Twi'lek had been surprised to see her, and to see what she had engineered. Which just might mean that word had not gone out beforehand that he, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan were Jedi. Of course the Twi'lek knew now, as did the other mercenaries who had run off when the battle had gotten underway. The Twi'lek also knew Qui-Gon as Quinn. Which meant the Hutts would soon know which ship to impound or destroy, if they didn't already. But all of that could also mean they had time to get back to the ship and take off unmolested. If they could all hurry fast enough.

"Ani, we have got to go now."

Sabe met his eyes and nodded, then whispered something else to Anakin before gently disengaging her arm from around the boy. She stood up, and wobbled a bit either from stiff muscles, or from the pain her incautious movement reawakened in her arm, and both Anakin and Xanatos moved to steady her. They were all three walking wounded, her physically, Anakin emotionally, and him -- both.

If only it had been the guilt of abandoning Qui-Gon and Shmi, he wouldn't now feel so adrift. He certainly did not want to think about what Aurra had been able to read in him, what she had offered him, and how, for just a heartbeat, he had thought about accepting. Or how he had seen a future in where he had accepted and embraced the Dark pleasures she had offered.

Surely he had started to argue to go with Qui-Gon in order to help his Master? But then why could he only think of finding Obi-Wan again as a guest of the Hutts? Of sampling the little Jedi's exquisite body and terror. Of the feel of it beneath his hands --

"Xanatos, sir, are you all right?"

With a start Xanatos let go of his thoughts and looked down to see both Sabe and Anakin looking at him with anxious, fearful eyes. He could only think that somehow they had glimpsed into his soul, but then could see that their fear was only in that he had abruptly stopped, and that there was a very noticeable sound of others coming toward them. He blinked and took a glance around to see that they were only a couple of buildings away from the docking bay.

But the pursuers were in between them and the ship.

"I'm going to have to draw them off," he said quickly. "When they catch sight of me, you two hightail it to the ship. There may still be a couple who chase after you, but don't worry about trying to hide or to keep them from chasing you all the way back. The ship has shields and the bad guys are going to know where you're going, so it doesn't matter if you lead them there. Just that you stay ahead of them and get aboard before they can stop you. Or board themselves."

"But you will be coming too?" Anakin asked. The boy gave the appearance of coming to terms with leaving his mother here for her own safety, but he was not ready to give up the only other adult who had looked out for him.

Xanatos took a deep breath. "I promise, Ani. You will get to Coruscant, will become a Jedi and will come back for your mom." As he said it, as Anakin nodded, they both knew his words to be true.

Too bad Xanatos didn't necessarily see himself as the one making sure those promises came true. Or that he couldn't see whether Shmi would still be here when Ani came back for her.

Sabe must have seen the doubt in his eyes, for she stood up on her tiptoes and give him a kiss across the broken circle that would now mar his cheek for however long he lived. "Make sure that you do," she said very softly before taking hold of Ani's hand. "There are many who would be hurt by your loss."

Xanatos nodded. Certainly more than he had thought just five days ago.

But might it not be better if they mourned his death and not his fall?

*************

Obi-Wan felt the echoes of Qui-Gon's despair but nothing more. He knew he must have fallen unconscious, but knew also that it couldn't have been for more than a few minutes since he could still hear the sounds of the engines of other racers. When the cycle had literally exploded underneath him, he had already been throttling down to about half the speed he'd been traveling at, and moving off the track and away from the others before launching himself away from it. All that worked just fine except that he had still been traveling in an excess of one hundred and fifty miles per hour when he bailed, and had needed steer the bike even further off road into the scrub and shale on the down side of the hill he'd just started traveling down.

But that was why Jerom had insisted he use one of the racer's custom suits when he was actually racing. Not for the recognition of Jerom's colors and markings, but for its composition. It not only offered Obi-Wan protection from the excessive speeds and maintained a streamline profile against wind resistance to make the ride smoother, but was modeled after the g-suits of air pilots.

Breath-stealing tight, it helped blood flow properly during the high speed turns to keep him from passing out. It also had interior gelpacks at various connections to cushion things like elbows and knees against impact just in case he did lost control. And the outermost layer was woven with non-combustible fibers, so even when burning fuel spilled across his legs as he tried to tuck into a roll, the flames traveled no further than the drops of liquid, and left no more than mild, irritating burns. Some of the shrapnel still sliced through the ultraprene layer and into skin, but even most of that damage was blunted, as was that from the edges of the shale and the points of the rocks he rolled over while sliding down a good six hundred feet of hillside.

What the suit couldn't prevent was bruising, especially where his body had already taken a beating the night before in his fight with the Codru-Ji. The rib he had broken on Haven gave way again, as did a couple more from his first contact with the ground. And his shoulder, separated less than twelve hours ago, dislocated again on about the fourteenth roll; he was not successful in avoiding all of the obstructions.

But Obi-Wan had managed to protect his knee, and his head, taking most of the impacts against his shins and forearms. Across his back. And unconsciousness had come only at the very end, when his tumbling had started to slow because he had come upon softer terrain. There had been one more rock hiding beneath the top surface of the sand and even his helmet couldn't do much more than protect him from snapping his neck as he rolled to a stop.

No, Obi-Wan's only real problem now was that he was a good seven miles away from Mos Espa. Which was about five more than he had planned on being when they had conceived this. Well, not this -- his plan had not included an explosive device.

He was also early, on the wrong side of the track, and moving in the wrong direction. So he was another fifteen or so miles from where Qui-Gon would be waiting an hour from now.

He had no doubt he could make it back into town on his own, despite his injuries. He certainly didn't expect any of the other racers to stop and give him a hand, though one or two might have called it in to their own pit crews if they had seen who had actually crashed. And Sellis would be checking in with the remote cameras once his electronics had gone dead. At this point the mechanic would probably reach him before Qui-Gon did, and that was assuming Qui-Gon could meet him.

The warning from the Force had not been meant solely for himself. And the lack of anything over his link with his Master either meant Obi-Wan had sustained a more serious head injury than it felt like, or that Qui-Gon was quite involved on his own.

Well, he was not going to just sit and wait for either Sellis or Qui-Gon. Giving himself one final check over, Obi-Wan rose carefully to his knees. From there he pulled off his helmet though he stayed holding on to it, then rocked up to his feet. So far so good. His first steps were rocky, and each one pounded against his ribs and his shoulder, but he'd managed with worse. He had fought with worse.

Not that he wanted to have to do something like that again. Especially here.

Unfortunately, even without injury he was still in the middle of a desert seven miles from civilization, and would have to climb not only a couple respectable hills, but also cross a few miles of nothing but sand and sunlight. Both suns had risen, and his water supply had disintegrated along with the bike. He was already hot and thirsty, having intended his next drink at the bottom of the hill where he could easier manage the distraction from driving.

Had he been on a planet other than Tatooine -- especially if these races were within the Republic -- there would be emergency rescue personnel and supplies waiting at several of the track verification points. But not so with the Hutts. Oh, they did have the sensors set up, but only to ensure the racers did not cheat. They even had remote cameras installed to augment the few floating vidbots so those in the stands would stay interested. And would pay for the privilege of watching all of the elements of the course.

But the Hutts did not bother to stock the beacons with even a comm unit, and the one in Obi-Wan's helmet had been damaged in his tumble. Any racer who ran into trouble was on their own, or was at the mercy of their crews' loyalty unless they paid an additional fee for a service no one expected to have to need. The Hutts were not about to provide any for free, nor encourage the desert scavengers like the Jawas or Tusken Raiders by easy access to anything, especially tools or medical supplies. Or water.

Right, the scavengers. It was unlikely any of the nomadic and hostile Raiders would be this close to one of the human civilizations, and any Jawas had probably been run off, though no doubt they'd be back once the racing was over to scavenge even the smallest bit of metal or burnt out electronic component. But seven miles could hide a lot of other scavengers. He would have to hope the sounds and smells of the engines would have scared off most of the predators, since the only weapon he had was his own body, which was pretty beat up right now.

Or the Force.

It seemed pretty stupid to worry about being caught using the Force as he climbed. By now even straggling racers would be out of the area as they continued along the two hundred fifty mile trek, and it would be about forty minutes before any would be back in the area with their third circuit of four around the marked course. So there might be nothing other than a few insects and maybe one of the vidbots that could see him. He was pretty certain the Hutts would not have gone to the expense to equip those monitors with Force detectors, given how they had skimped in every other way. Using people for such detecting was much cheaper, and about as reliable, since machines had a problem detecting something so grounded in life.

Nor was it as if Obi-Wan was going to make a huge showing of using the Force. At least not to do things that would be visible to the cameras or a casual viewer. While it would be handy as backup while he climbed the hills since he really only had his legs and one arm to pull himself up with, he intended only to use it to reach out to Qui-Gon.

Obi-Wan waited until he had reached a level area about two-thirds of the way back up the hill he'd tumbled down. Needing the break, and needing the stable platform in case Qui-Gon was involved in something to be so shielding him from, the young Jedi pulled himself onto a rocky shelf and turned around so that he had something to lean his head and back against. He wasn't sure what was bothering him more, his ribs, his shoulder, or his head. He refused to think about his dry throat and thirst. The climb had already dried him out, as were the suns beating down on his uncovered head and the few bits of unprotected skin.

Of course, it could be worse. He could have Xan's beautiful, dark head of hair. Or even Qui-Gon's. And either of their lengths of hair. At least Jerom's lighter shade than even his own natural color was providing some measure of relief in that respect.

Obi-Wan was also fortunate that he had no fear of heights or falling. From his position about four hundred yards up, he could still see the dust trails of the racers some fifteen miles down and away from him. And with a quick peer over the side of his little shelf, he could also see the trail of destruction his roll had wrought, and had a moment's wonder that his injuries hadn't been worse.

For that he could give thanks to Qui-Gon; it was only because of his new Master's compassion and patience that Obi-Wan was now connecting better with the Force than he had in more than six years, and had so instinctively avoided most of the pitfalls.

But would his better understanding of the Force be enough for him to actually reach Qui-Gon? Obi-Wan knew little of bonds having lived most of his life with only the most basic of links that all Jedi enjoyed. He wasn't completely sure if it was his new bond or simply his empathy that let him know where Qui-Gon was in a relative position to his own, along with being able to sense more or less his Master's basic state of health. Something similar had worked with Master a'Thuul, but only sporadically, as had any of his Force talents in his youth. There had been little time and too many other things to discuss first for him to ask Qui-Gon about bonding between the time of theirs forming and this mission.

Now he knew their ability to reach each other's thoughts and to communicate telepathically had to be bond-based. Qui-Gon did not share such a level of closeness with either Masters Windu or Yoda, although he did seem to manage something at least similar with Xanatos. But Obi-Wan imagined even that bond had its limits. As would his own with Qui-Gon.

On the other hand, such bonding was based, in part, in the Force, and the Force flowed through all things. Such limits might be worked upon and expanded over time and with practice.

Something to think on and try in the future. Or worry about. For now he needed to see if their initial limits were sufficient, to see if he could reach Qui-Gon at all so they could plan a new rendezvous.

When they were near each other, it was almost harder for Obi-Wan to not sense Qui-Gon's thoughts; doing so had, in fact, been their first clue that they had formed any link. But Qui-Gon had been working with him in setting better shields against each other ever since they had departed from Coruscant on this rescue mission. Not only might such a level of closeness be detectable by another Force sensitive, but it would not do for one of them to get into trouble -- or get hurt -- and have the link adversely influence or affect the other.

And so Obi-Wan found Qui-Gon's shields still set against him.

But then he vaguely remembered sensing his Master just before the bike exploded, which meant one of the them had managed to contact the other already despite the distance and shielding. It could have been himself to give Qui-Gon warning, or just as easily the reverse. That nothing of continued danger was surfacing right now when Obi-Wan tried to grasp at the future left him with wondering if the concern he had had for Qui-Gon to be carrying his lightsaber had already passed or was still pending.

Or past and still pending? They weren't off of Tatooine yet, after all.

Master and Padawan reached each other pretty much simultaneously. It was too far for anything other than basic emotions, but Obi-Wan got an immediate feeling of concern then relief from Qui-Gon. And exhaustion. What he did not sense was the slight muting he had noticed whenever Xanatos was around, and wondered about its lack, but could not think of any way to really ask. Or to receive an answer. That Qui-Gon was not projecting profound grief let Obi-Wan conclude that Xan was not nearby on purpose, and so be content for at least one of the other's safety for now.

He managed to convey back to Qui-Gon a general sense of his own well being, choosing not to try and pass on any of his discomfort other than thirst. In truth, dehydration could end up being his worst problem; the tightness of the suit which had kept him from serious injury could now very well cause one. The Force only knew how much he'd already sweated out.

Or how bad he smelled he thought with a touch of giddiness.

Obi-Wan could then sense Qui-Gon's doubt that he was being told everything. Well, let Qui-Gon sense his Padawan's doubts over what the Master was keeping from him in return. All Obi-Wan was now getting through the link was some form of warning from Qui-Gon, not Qui-Gon's own condition.

Someone other than Qui-Gon was coming to meet him. Since they had planned on Sellis helping, that must mean other than Sellis, too. Or, perhaps, in addition to Qui-Gon and Sellis?

As if in answer to that conclusion, nausea suddenly swept over Obi-Wan. And a too well remembered sense of absolute terror. Before he could react and just as suddenly, both feelings were gone, now consciously being soothed away by Qui-Gon's love, even as the Master had caused them. Obi-Wan understood.

It was one of the Hutt's people coming and not to see if he had survived the sabotage. Well, yes, to see if he survived, but not for the purpose of his continued racing career. And probably not just one. Qui-Gon was trying to tell him that he had been recognized, either as someone the Hutts had owned before, or as someone they wanted to own now.

As he couldn't escape that knowledge, Obi-Wan needed to at least get away from the wreckage.

He quickly tossed the helmet back down the cliff and started to climb again. Even non-operational at least on his end, Obi-Wan couldn't be sure the helmet's electronics couldn't be used to track him. For the same reason, he couldn't attempt to attract the attention of one of the vidbots, certainly not for the sake of having them report his position for pick up. Not when he couldn't trust who'd be picking him up.

And that meant he shouldn't even try to parallel the race course back toward Mos Espa. One who was not a local or a Jedi would have no other means of finding their way, of preventing themselves from getting further lost within the Dune Sea, and so that would be the path his hunters would look to first after examining the wreckage.

He could move further out into the desert. Even with no weapons other than his wits, he should be able to survive, at least long enough for Qui-Gon to find him. But that would mean quite a bit more time before he and Qui-Gon got together, which would also greatly increase the chances of either of them being caught. And that would almost guarantee their ship get boarded and impounded before their escape from this cursed planet. He would also be that much more worse off for the heat and thirst, leaving Qui-Gon to carry alone once again the burden of their escape.

Not this time. Not like Haven.

He got himself into this fix, so he would find his way out. And meet up with Qui-Gon as more or less an equal.

While he didn't actually travel alongside the race course, Obi-Wan kept its position clearly in his mind as he trudged along, not needing to see it to know the direction he was moving. The second hill had been less steep than the first, yet had still taken him almost the same amount of time to clear. And the longer he kept going, the slower he seemed to advance.

Upon reaching a fairly flat, stable terrain, he had tried moving at a Force enhanced run, but couldn't sustain the effort long enough to make it worthwhile trading off stamina for speed. And he couldn't stay long in the open anyway. Any airborne droid would be able to spot him much easier, not to mention he'd be a clear target for both suns.

He had come maybe three miles but most of the first two had been up and down the hills, and had taken a full forty minutes if not longer. Any exposed skin was now burned and his lips chapped to the point of cracking and bleeding and Obi-Wan was now trying for any shadows he could find. And now he could hear the sounds of racing engines echoing from beyond the canyon he was stumbling through. One of the engines kept getting louder, though. Someone was coming for him.

He pulled deeper into the shadow thrown down by a towering rock formation. This was not Qui-Gon, although his Master was also close. Obi-Wan reached out into the Force, not with his unreliable prescience for a vision of the future, but at least to see if there was a hint of immediate danger.

Nothing.

Unfortunately, that could be just as much from his spotty ability to focus as it could be an indication that whomever approached meant him no harm.

And so he waited motionless, doing nothing to attract attention. He even went so far as to pull back his shaky focus and let go the Force. If he had been recognized as the Jedi one of the Hutts had held before, anything tracking him would include a Force detector. Along with some sort of weapon that could disrupt his connection. And Force restraints for bringing him back.

Now he could make out the distinct sound of two engines, from two different directions. The second vehicle was moving faster and might reach him first, since it was also homing more directly toward his position.

Qui-Gon.

Obi-Wan let out a sigh of relief. He might not want to be dependent on Qui-Gon, but that didn't mean he wouldn't take his Master's help. It also didn't mean that he was going to step out of his cover, not when there was just a good a chance of the first vehicle getting to him ahead of Qui-Gon.

He sighted the other bike and its driver first. It was Sellis. The mechanic didn't have as direct a position on Obi-Wan, but by the way he was driving he did have a vague idea of where to start looking. And that could only have come from Qui-Gon, as Obi-Wan had made a careful search of himself to make sure he carried nothing else that might be used to track him. He also knew he had not been spotted by one of the remotes yet, so far he had gotten enough warning within the Force of their pending shift toward him to have been able to avoid them.

Qui-Gon must trust Sellis not to sell them out.

Obi-Wan pushed himself away from the rock he'd been resting against. Any movement outside of the shadow should attract Sellis' eye; Jerom's racing colors were silver and a light blue which would stand out against the unrelieved gold of sand and the few slightly darker hillsides. He would let the other come to him, that way he could keep an eye out for Qui-Gon, and for anyone -- or anything -- else.

Even with that precaution, he missed sighting the third presence. His first clue that they were not alone was Sellis' grunt of surprise as the mechanic slew his bike around in a showering of sand, stopped and was tossing Obi-Wan a water sack. As Obi-Wan was turning back after protecting his eyes from the sand, he was instead showered with water and the red mist of Sellis' blood as some sort of projectile pierced both body and bag. Only as Sellis was tumbling over did Obi-Wan hear the report from the rifle shot. That delay, and the angle of entry and exit through Sellis' body gave him the distance and direction the shot had been fired from.

Somewhere up that last hill he had needed to cross, the shooter was at a distance of at least a mile behind him. The shot that killed Sellis -- and the water -- had been dead on target, as were the line of dust puffs as more bullets followed. He, she or it didn't want to hit him it appeared, but there were consciously working to keep him from getting to Sellis' cycle. Which had to mean there was one or more someones also closing in.

Adrenaline turned out to be a surprising effective substitute for rest and water, and Obi-Wan decided to take his chances outmaneuvering the bullets. Not only did he so not want to see who might have been sent for his retrieval, but he was not about the let Qui-Gon get close enough to be shot by the sniper, since he had none of the reassurances that they would be as careful with his Master's life as they seemed to be with his own.

It was almost as if the sniper had been able to read his intention; the next set of bullets were right at his feet. He supposed that was only fair, since with the Force he was anticipating the shots. The thought that the shooter was possibly Force trained was almost enough to put him off as he made his move toward the bike. Bad enough to be wanted by the Hutts, he would rather die than be taken again by another Dark Jedi.

A surge of strong emotion from Qui-Gon had Obi-Wan regretting making such an oath without regard for their open link, but instead of denial or censure for the thought, Qui-Gon's response came with a flood of energy so as to try and make the vow unnecessary. Buoyed by Qui-Gon's acceptance as much as the help, Obi-Wan dove over the next trace of bullets and rose, pulling the bike up with his own return to his feet. A deft application of the Force had started the ignition sequence before he had even gained hold of the handles.

Obi-Wan only had time for a stab of regret in having to leave Sellis' body behind. He might not have gotten to know the man, but the mechanic had been a true friend of Jerom's, and had come through for them. Sellis deserved better than to have his body rot in the sun or be consumed by the desert dwellers. But even more so, Sellis deserved not to have his death to have been in vain.

Even with the appearance of the target getting away, the sniper hadn't given up. Obi-Wan slew the cycle across the soft sand, digging for traction and speed while more bullets chased after him. One spanged into the side of the bike and ricocheted. Something cut across his boot, but did not penetrate through all the layers of leather, and Obi-Wan only let the vehicle wobble for a second. He had no helmet, not even goggles to protect his eyes, and the sand his passage whipped up quickly scoured bleeding furrows across his sunburned face and ungloved hands. But he couldn't duck his face or completely close his eyes; even with Qui-Gon augmenting his currently shaky command of the Force, he was not ready to maneuver a strange bike across uneven, unknown territory at speeds exceeding two hundred miles an hour with his eyes closed.

He would have like to though, for then he wouldn't have seen from the corner of his eye the three hovering air-swoops that crested over the rocks he'd been taking shelter against. Not quite as maneuverable as his cycle, they were still faster, not having to compensate for the different consistency of the terrain, only its unevenness. With three to try and box him, they didn't have to be as maneuverable.

But now Qui-Gon was also only a hundred or so yards away, before Obi-Wan in relation to the swoops moving in toward his side. The two Jedi closed toward each other just a bare margin faster than the swoops sped after them. With little more than a thought of coordination between them, Obi-Wan pitched his bike down with a leftward turn, his knee and shoulder nearly scraping against the ground in the same instant Qui-Gon pulled Jerom's backup cycle back and upward, also going left, but to his own left so that he could use a solid patch of ground inclined enough that he needed only an additional push from the Force to clear the ground and Obi-Wan as they intersected.

Using a little more Force, Qui-Gon kept his motorcycle stabilized with one hand which freed his other to remove both lightsabers from his belt. Obi-Wan's he merely dropped, and Obi-Wan took no time rising back up and in calling the much missed weapon toward his outstretching left hand. It was only as the hilt fell into his grasp that Obi-Wan really remembered his shoulder was dislocated again -- was forcibly reminded of that fact -- and it was only the Force, not nerveless fingers that let him keep his grip.

But his aid wasn't necessary. Qui-Gon's jump toward the swoops had panicked the drivers and two had swerved in reflex. Because they were not bonded like the two Jedi, however, they didn't anticipate the other's action as Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon had. Each swerved toward the other, not away, not under or over. The resultant sound of impact and crumpling metal, even their aborted screams, were almost immediately overshadowed by the discordant hum of their repeller drives coming into contact and cascading into overload. The explosion threw the other sloop off balance and the humanoid driver pitched off, avoiding the glowing green blade of Qui-Gon's weapon, but not the subsequent spill of wreckage when the lightsaber cut through the stubby stabilizing wing. Driver and vehicle both plummeted to the ground only seconds before Qui-Gon's back wheel also touched and the Jedi Master brought the bike back under control.

Obi-Wan got only a sense of satisfaction from Qui-Gon instead of a relief that matched his own, so kept from powering down Sellis' bike as he had intended.

*The sniper is -- was -- Jedi,* came Qui-Gon's explanation for his maintained alert. *She has harbored too long a grudge against us for her to have given up just because we've moved out of range. If she, too, has a swoop, she could still catch us before we reach our ship.*

*Or could call in more reinforcements to meet us between here and there,* Obi-Wan agreed even though his Master knew this. The opportunity to really communicate again with Qui-Gon meant too much to him to worry about repeating the obvious. If they couldn't yet touch physically, at least they could in this manner.

He felt the warmth of Qui-Gon's regard, could now sense the relief that they were together again, relatively unhurt, and little else mattered.

Later he might want to know who the Jedi sniper was -- had been -- and the nature of the grudge, since there was something in Qui-Gon's thoughts that pointed to it being personal. But right now Obi-Wan needed only worry about the road, and speed, and staying up with the man next to him. Together, he knew they could take on the sniper/bounty-hunter, the Hutts, anything this dreadful planet could send up against them.

He felt Qui-Gon's agreement, and his reminder that they didn't even have to face the planet's threats alone. Continuing to maintain control with only one hand, after putting away his weapon Qui-Gon next removed his comm unit. Though he couldn't hear the words over the wind streaming past his face or the sound of their engines, Obi-Wan still knew that Qui-Gon was in contact with Xanatos, and that his Master had decided they should rendezvous outside of the town and away from at least regular port authority patrols.

There certainly was plenty of open space for the spaceship to hover over, even if they terrain they were vectoring toward was not suitable for landing. After the maneuvers the two of them executed in rejoining, Obi-Wan figured a simple leap up onto the ship's landing ramp would be child's play. Even if they needed to abandon the cycle and just use the Force to cover the distance.

With a certainty born, perhaps, only in youthful confidence instead of prescience, Obi-Wan knew this mission was over. Any questions, any loose ends even about the Dark Jedi could be left to the next Jedi who wanted to visit Tatooine. Or left at least until he and Qui-Gon were healed, rested and ready in body and soul, to take another look themselves.

Epilogue

The return home saw the seven from Tatooine caught up in a whirlwind of obligation and ceremony, of healing and taking some time needed for themselves not only to recover, but to simply just breathe.

Because they had, indeed, been transporting the new Queen of Naboo, after stopping by to retrieve Evan Piell from Jerom CuWil's estate (and after paying off the racer for not only the loss of the race but the loss of two of his cycles), the Jedi were directed to land at the Senatorial platform connected to the Embassy of Naboo on Coruscant. There they said good-bye to a grieving Amidala and her two assistants, giving Xanatos opportunity to say hello and give thanks that at least Senator Palpatine had survived the collapse of his government.

Then home to the temple. After watching Qui-Gon whisk Obi-Wan off to the Healers, though thankfully the Padawan would not be needing a bacta tank, Xanatos and his former Master were summoned a few hours later to the Council Chambers to offer their opinion on training Anakin Skywalker as a Jedi. During the two days of ship-time, he and Qui-Gon had not had the opportunity to discuss what had happened in the street, for Qui-Gon had understandably stayed by Obi-Wan to keep his Padawan from aggravating his injuries, and Xanatos had split his time between Amidala and Anakin. And reporting to Master Piell. He resolutely had not thought about the words and offer of Aurra Sing.

Except for every waking and sleeping moment.

If he didn't talk or think about it, then he did not have to remember Qui-Gon's doubts and disappointment.

Or his own.

Now he and Qui-Gon stood before the twelve of the Council. Anakin was already there, but was asked to leave before the discussion began. Despite passing most of the tests the various Council members could think to give the boy, many of them felt he was too old, that Ani had too many bad or emotional habits ingrained which would hold back if not completely impede Anakin's ability to become a Jedi.

That Xanatos and the boy had spontaneously bonded was both a point for and against accepting Anakin into the fold, as was Xanatos' own reluctance in the matter. Some felt because Xanatos was not demanding they accept the boy, he would be that much more cautious and willing to seek out advice and help. Thus giving the Council more control, perhaps? Others were concerned, however, that Xanatos wouldn't create a proper bond between them, and that Anakin might come to resent Xanatos' initial reluctance.

Five minutes into the debate, it became more than obvious that the Council wanted Qui-Gon to commit to assisting Xanatos before they would give their approval. Not surprisingly, even as they cited their success with Obi-Wan, that multiple Masters had controlled and guided the young man to his proper path, Qui-Gon used it to point out that in essence they were asking him to take on two Padawans, not just having one Padawan with two Masters. He refused. He was Obi-Wan's Master and he would not slight or increase his lover's path to Knighthood by splitting his time or attention.

Which pretty much turned the Council's opinion back to refusing Anakin's training, despite Evan Piell's own impassioned argument for the boy; the Lannik Warrior having spent the most time with him over any of the other Councilors. Up until Mace Windu rose after shooting a glance toward Yoda.

"Would you rather have us take on the responsibility for the boy as we did Obi-Wan?" he challenged his fellow Jedi. "Give him twelve Masters who are reluctant and who will likely never form a proper bond or grow to love him for who he is instead of what he might become?" The dark-skinned human strode into the center of the chamber, taking a stance near Qui-Gon and Xanatos.

"Perhaps we should just throw him back to the Hutts and their Dark Jedi right now, instead of waiting for the boy to choose such a path on his own after years of our neglect," he directed toward Ki-Adi-Mundi with a scowl and a glare. "Yes, the boy's future is clouded, as Master Yoda has told us. But that is because he has too many paths for which he has neither the understanding or discipline to chose from." Both Adi Gallia and Plo Koon were nodding in agreement.

"Because we now know of him, because he has been brought to us, the boy is our responsibility. Unlike you, Oppo, I would rather see him grow up Jedi than be abandoned to seek his own path. Anakin knows he has abilities beyond the norm, and he if he is curious and ambitious enough to move beyond his slavery, could he not then seek out darker paths that called to our fallen ones? Do we really want someone with his potential become the first of the new Sith Sorcerers?"

"Dead the Sith, are," Master Yaddle frowned. Her disapproval for bringing up the monster of children's myths as a form of defense was obvious to everyone.

"How many times have our past brethren said that?" Saesee Tiin said slowly. "How many times has someone willingly or unwillingly found a link to our dark past and freed a Force spirit, or freed the Darkness within their own spirit? And how many slaves dream nightly for a chance to become powerful enough to change not only their destinies, but those of their fellow slaves, their families. To the boy, the Force is magic. Wouldn't we be criminally neglectful to send him out to find and become lost to the real magics?"

A deep shiver swept through Xanatos as the Council members nodded their agreement to Mace's arguments, finally accepting Anakin as a Jedi. Whether it be the talk of the Sith, or just his dwelling on things out of nightmares, he had a vision. He knew it was not the future, was not a guaranteed future at least. But he saw one of those many possible paths for the boy that Master Windu spoke of. Death and Darkness. Power beyond imagining. And pain. In that instant Xanatos understood why the Force had made sure he had seen into Obi-Wan's nightmares. Why he had been offered control of such things from Aurra Sing. Now he would be able to recognize and keep Anakin from being tempted.

Or else he was to take the first step himself, and bring the boy with him.

-- Finis --