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The Dooku Files

by Little Owl (grinning_little_owl@yahoo.de)

Archive: Master_Apprentice
Category: Qui/other, First-time, Chan
Rating: NC-17
Warning: Underage. Qui-Gon is in the flashback scenes sweet little(?) sixteen, therefore it's rated as NC-17.
Disclaimers: All the Jedi belong to Lucasfilms except Knight Tel Halkere. He's mine. And the Great Inquisitor is mine, too: Little Owls are greedy creatures.
Summary: Why Master Dooku actually left the Order
Notes: A sequel to "Coruscant's Most Wanted" - the other thing Knight Jinn "forgot" to mention. If you don't know the first one: Qui-Gon and Quinlan Vos are agemates in this story, and they were knighted some days ago. Imagine them in their mid-twenties.
Feedback: yes please
Thanks to: Tem-ve for a great beta and many suggestions to make this a better story. Thanks also to Clara for her help and suggestions - and with my apologies for my "breathless" style. All mistakes left are mine.

He lost his weapon, and the lightsabre almost cut his throat.

"Hah, bounty hunter! Surrender!"

Qui-Gon spun away, landed crouched four metres below, summoning his lightsabre, but in the next moment his opponent's weight was on him, made him fall spread-eagled on the floor, and the air left his lungs with a loud "Oooooommmphh!"

"I told you, today I'd catch you!" Quinlan gasped chuckling and jerked his hips forward against Qui-Gon's ass. "And now, I'll interrogate you and you'll..."

A pointedly slow applause disturbed him from his reverie about questioning his lover in an exquisite way.

"Rape is not part of the arresting process, Knight Vos," an amused tenor said. "And to give in so fast is a shame, Knight Jinn!"

"Torga!" Qui-Gon was on his feet the next instant, making a surprised Quinlan Vos land on his backside.

"Defend yourself, Knight Jinn!" And the humming and hissing of clashing lightsabres filled the training hall again.

Quinlan watched the strange Knight with the yellow lightsabre and the furious fight that developed. They hadn't been sparring for a long time, and Qui-Gon wasn't tired at all.

The other one, Torga, put up one hell of a fight, no restraint in either strength or technique visible. His fighting style was full of aerials and spins, a kick sent Qui-Gon flying several metres, landing on his back, but instead of surrender Qui-Gon jumped up, joining the fight with a wild laugh that made Quinlan feel uneasy about the victory he had achieved some minutes ago. It had been much too easy.

The Knight called Torga wasn't much older than they were; his brown hair just reached his shoulders. Some sparkling metal around his neck caught Quinlan's attention. A fake slave collar left from an undercover mission? No, but... he looked a second time: a Ryban torque. Sith hells!

In the ancient times the humans of Ryba had been dedicated followers of the Sith due to their own extremely high aggression and belligerent religion. That one of them made Jedi Knight - and made no secret of his origin - meant either Ryba had become civilised during the centuries or that Torga was a weakling in their eyes.

But there was no weakness visible in his fighting, it was all agility and power, and he made even Qui-Gon, who had graduated best in the sabre class, look clumsy sometimes.

"Quinlan!" he heard his friend roar between the clashing of the blades. "Will you... join in... or do you want me ... to get killed ... by this ... son of a Sith!"

"Coming!" Quinlan shouted and jumped into the fight.

Together it wasn't too difficult to fight Torga back through the hall and disarm him eventually.

"Do you... surrender?" Qui-Gon panted with a broad grin.

"Yup." Torga raised his hands.

"Say it!"

"I surrender and I promise I'll be good!" Torga begged, laughing, once more giving Quinlan the impression that Qui-Gon and Torga knew each other more closely than just by name.

The impression deepened when Qui-Gon switched off his sabre. He and Torga stood there panting, watching each other, both obviously glad to see one another, but embarrassed too.

"Welcome back to Coruscant, Torga!" Qui-Gon said finally, reaching out his hands, and the other Knight stepped into his embrace, hugging him closely and sighing with relief.

Oh shit, Quinlan thought. Qui-Gon had never mentioned a friend called Torga, but what to expect of a man who had only admitted two days ago that his dear not-so-old-at-all mother was a bounty hunter!

His face must have looked odd.

Qui-Gon laughed and moved out of Torga's embrace. "Quinlan, meet Torga Tel Halkere, a friend from my earlier Padawan years. Torga, this is Quinlan Vos, who is allowed to arrest me as he likes. We are lovers."

"Oh," Knight Tel Halkere's smile looked forced now. "Nice to meet you, Quinlan. It's an honour to fight with you: impressive style."

"It was an honour for me too, and I'm honoured to get to know you." He bowed formally and decided to smack his lover's bottom in private for that blunt announcement. Why on earth did Master Yoda want this clumsy oaf to choose a career as a diplomat!

Qui-Gon realised his mistake. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean..."

Torga shook his head, still smiling. "Qui, it's been five years since we last met, and all we did was argue."

Qui-Gon bit his lower lip and nodded, all mirth gone. "They made you..." He pointed towards the ceiling, a gesture that meant 'the Council' in every Jedi Temple, and grinned with embarrassment. "Uh, you were even part of my trials."

"What an honour!" Torga snorted. "Then I may inform you that your trials aren't over yet. I'm on schedule as your advisor for your first mission as Knights."

"Wow! Where do we go?" Qui-Gon sounded too excited for Quinlan's liking. Being under the command of his lover's probable ex was all but promising. On the contrary: it was promising trouble.

"Olojah Quatuor," Torga said. "A Middle Rim world, not a member of the Republic. They have just developed space travel and started immediately to raid the Republican trade routes. These guys love to boast of their fighting skills. Therefore the Council sends us to intimidate them a little with a good lightsabre fight, while two elder Masters negotiate in a more civilised manner."

"Sounds like fun." Quinlan shrugged.

"The kind of fun which might end with a blaster bolt in your back." Torga Tel Halkere frowned. "It's no game, guys, don't underestimate it. On Olojah they wish us in the hands of the Sith and the Hutts, because we're disturbing their 'business'."

He palmed the door control of the training room. "Showers, change, briefing!"

"Seeing as your pal still has quite short hair, he has already developed a considerably masterly tone!" said Quinlan, louder than necessary.

Knight Jinn nodded, scowling. "He always knew better what's good for you."

It wasn't promising at all. Qui-Gon and Torga - or should he refer to him as Knight Tel Halkere? - stripped without any fuss and went under the shower.

Quinlan saw them watch each other with interest. Both grinned in a way that showed their obvious delight at the respective sights. Well, if it was five years ago that they had last met, their bodies had probably changed a lot.

Quinlan remembered being a lanky teenager five years ago, all skin and bones and immature proportions, and now they were well-trained young men with perfectly shaped bodies. He couldn't avoid scanning Knight Tel Halkere. He wasn't as tall as Qui-Gon, but sturdier in build. That made him look more mature, but he probably wasn't.

It was an open secret that Qui-Gon had lost two years in his training after his first Master, Dooku, had unexpectedly left the Order. Some of Qui-Gon's yearmates had already been Knights for a while, and Torga Tel Halkere was probably one of them.

"Come on, Quin!" Qui-Gon waved to him. "Don't be shy."

"Shy? Me?" He went under the water, determined to keep this encounter short. Jealousy wasn't becoming for a Knight, but what else was that seething feeling inside his guts if not jealousy? Fear maybe.

That's unworthy, he thought, and maybe just an outcome of ignorance. Ask them. What do you have to loose?

Qui-Gon, his inner voice warned. But Qui-Gon would go if it suited him. As he had broken with all his lovers - or they with him - after a few days or weeks. Nobody got mad about this habit, and strangely enough, there was no gossip about the reasons. Maybe that was what qualified Jinn to become a diplomat.

Quinlan felt his stomach cramp. Three weeks - they had been lovers for almost three weeks now, and now the handsome Knight Tel Halkere had come around...

He had to know!

"Am I right in thinking that you were lovers once?" He wanted to sound casual and hoped the water would cover the faint trace of anxiety in his voice. Mentally, he added, 'Another thing you found not worth mentioning, Qui-Gon?'

Qui-Gon and Torga looked at each other.

"Well, you can't call it lovers..." Qui-Gon said uneasily, and received a Force swat on his buttocks that made him jump.

"Not lovers, hey?" Torga laughed. "Well, he's right inasmuch as we never promised each other everlasting love and the whole shebang, but at least...", he winked with a smug grin, "I had the honour to be your boyfriend's first."

Qui-Gon snorted. "Oh yeah! Torga holds the Temple record for the fastest fuck ever. What was it, Torga? Twenty seconds?"

Quinlan couldn't help snickering.

"Hey, it wasn't my fault that your Master suddenly came home!" Torga threw a handful of lather at Qui-Gon.

"Holy crap!" Quinlan found himself unexpectedly amused. "I bet he gave you a clout with his stick immediately!"

"Stick?" Qui-Gon looked at him bemusedly. "Oh, no, not Master Yoda. Master Dooku! We thought he would stay the whole night in a Senate emergency meeting due to a crisis on Corellia..."

"Yup, and then the crisis situation was in Qui's room!" Torga grinned and shook his hand as if burnt. "The old demon grabbed my neck so hard I thought it would break. And then he Force-flung me out of Qui's room, straight through the living area and made me crash into the front door. I took that as a hint that he wanted me to leave. And that's why our first time lasted only twenty seconds."

"Too bad," Quinlan smirked. "And then?"

"That was the world-famous love affair of Padawan Tel Halkere and Padawan Jinn. All of it." Qui-Gon left the shower and started to dry himself. "And Master Dooku is no 'demon,' understood?"

"But..." Quinlan shrugged. "Didn't he say anything? When I asked to have the evening off for my first date, Master Tholme lectured me for two hours on good manners and venereal diseases. I didn't even dare to kiss afterwards!"

"Too bad." Qui-Gon hurried to get dressed.

Torga leant on the tiles and watched his former love interest with a frown. "If it was part of your trials, why are you still running away, Qui-Gon?"

"I'm not running. I just finished having a shower."

"But you didn't answer Quinlan's question."

"Well, then I'm sorry!" Qui-Gon strode to the door.

"Knight Jinn! YOU WILL STAY HERE!"

Qui-Gon actually stopped, turned around and put his hands on his hips. "Roaring like a Wookiee drill sergeant while naked and dripping wet with lather isn't very impressive, Knight Tel Halkere!"

"Neither is running away like a sulking initiate." Torga's voice stayed astonishingly even. He rinsed off the lather and stepped out of the shower.

"I want this solved before we meet with the Masters, Qui-Gon," he said, and only his rough handling of the towel showed his agitation. "Besides, after being banned from Coruscant for eight years I think I do have a right to know what actually happened! You, Qui-Gon Jinn, were part of my trials, too. And they were not about fear, they were about anger!"

Qui-Gon returned and sat down on the bench where they had put their clothes and towels. "I'm sorry."

"You should be." Torga started to dress. "For me, it wasn't that hard, but my Master really suffered. She met her bondmate only three times during these years, because he was needed here on Coruscant."

"I'll apologise to her."

"You can't. She's dead. And no, there is no connection to your case, just a bloody pirate ambush."

Qui-Gon cringed even more. "Would you mind if we talk in private?"

"Yes, I actually would!" Torga said, "Private, my foot! Dooku is still out there, the Sith may know where he hides! And you won't endanger me or your lover by dividing loyalties. I want to know why you lied to the Council, why you defended a monster that almost killed you! And ... no! Don't you to tell me he didn't! Don't you dare!"

"He was no 'monster'! Ill, yes, but no monster!" Qui-Gon glared at Torga. "And if you have to know: I loved him! Despite it all, and despite all those people who made everything worse with their attempts to 'help' me!"

"What the Sith hells are you two talking about?" Quinlan suddenly felt very uneasy.

"We're talking about a certain Jedi Master who made his apprentice show up the day after our little rendezvous more grey than pale in the face, with bruises on his throat and passing out during his lightsabre training!" Torga said, his voice like acid. "And when asked by the healers, said Padawan excused himself with a 'growth spurt' and told them those 'love bites' were mine!"

"Love bites?" Quinlan gaped at Qui-Gon. "That bastard...?!"

Qui-Gon glared at him in a way that was normally Quinlan's. "Don't call my Master names without knowing any facts, Quin!"

"Well, Qui-Gon," Torga said, raising an eyebrow, "give us facts! What happened behind the doors of your quarters? What did he do to you during the mission on Corellia when we were called out that night? You were bleeding like a stuck Bantha!" Torga's hand sketched a line from his collarbone down to his stomach.

Qui-Gon nodded absent-mindedly. "Nevertheless, you had no right to tell the Council..."

"... to save the life of the friend I loved, even if said friend behaved like the greatest idiot this Order ever raised?" Torga snarled. "I would do it again! And I will do it again, if necessary, and if I ever meet Dooku, I'll slice him up - very neatly!"

"If I were Ryban, I would surely feel honoured by your loyalty, Torga." Qui-Gon snorted with disgust.

"And your loyalty to him was a shame, is still a shame!"

"He was my Master, dammit!"

"And that excuses torment? Suffering?"

Qui-Gon shook his head, looked through his companion as if he were somewhere else. "It wasn't so much suffering."

"Not much suffering? Well..." Torga put on his robe. "Fine. Knight Vos and me will make a trip to the archive and watch the vids of our classes of that year. I have to make sure that I remember you correctly, though I don't think my memory has shifted towards the melodramatic. You're free to stay here and think up your next excuse. Come on, Knight Vos."

"Ahem, I'd..."

"That was not an offer but an order, Knight Vos."

Quinlan clasped Qui-Gon's shoulder, but Knight Jinn rose and followed him in silence. Quinlan glanced at him, wondering what Qui-Gon was trying to hide. His friend looked sick.

They chose a desk in a deserted room of the archive. Torga switched on a holoprojector, searched for two files.

"This is the lightsabre competition when we were sixteen," he said, opening the first file, "Qui-Gon and me in the finals."

It was a furious fight, with cheering Padawans on the stands. Even the Masters were rapt with the skill of the two junior Padawans, showing techniques much in advance of their age. They were fighting free-form, mixing their katas with tricks so dirty that they could only have learnt them from their battle-proven Masters, and not from fighting with the Temple instructors or training droids.

Torga boasted aerials, Qui-Gon whipped away his opponent's guard brute-force, using his strength and waiting Torga's flights of fancy out. After half an hour of fierce fighting, a little slip in his landing, and Torga was bested: with a Force manipulation, Qui-Gon pushed him from his feet, and Torga couldn't counter while falling and fighting against the Force, the gravity, and a feint straight at his throat. At the last moment, the attack turned into a stab at his sword arm, Torga lost his weapon, and the fight was over.

Quinlan even glimpsed an enthusiastic Master Yoda among the spectators. But now his focus was on the sixteen-year-old Qui-Gon and Qui's former Master. He saw a round-faced, lanky teenager who was beaming with joy when he was declared winner of his school year. Qui-Gon hugged Torga to congratulate him too, and Torga showed no trace of disappointment or anger. Both were laughing, they were friends.

Then Qui-Gon faced his Master and was sternly admonished: "Serenity, Jinn!"

Qui-Gon bit his lower lip to fight the exhilaration down. His face forced into a neutral expression, he bowed again to his Master, and now he earned a nod of acknowledgement. Nothing more after a series of a dozen glorious fights - no smile, no hug, and Dooku left. Qui-Gon trailed behind, a sad glance back to his yearmates and the other Padawans who surrounded Torga, because the winner was led out of the hall.

"I found Qui-Gon later in the meditation garden where he had to brood over pride and boasting - a really encouraging Master said Master Dooku was!" Torga growled. "Next file. One year later: quarter finals."

The same hall, the same pairing, but silence, no cheers from the crowd. Torga stayed on the floor and fought standard parries against Padawan Jinn, whose exhaustion was visible in every move. This time Qui-Gon was pale and gaunt, and his eyes were wide with despair.

Quinlan saw how Torga refrained from using his advantages to spare Qui-Gon the shame of a too-short fight. After two instances where Torga could have easily broken Qui-Gon's guard, the referee stepped in and disqualified both: Qui-Gon to save his health, and Torga for fighting far below his abilities.

Both returned to their Masters, their heads hung.

"Stop!" Quinlan called. If he had thought that Qui-Gon was looking ill - his Master looked far worse.

He switched back to the first fight, chose a shot of Master Dooku in statue mode and pasted it for comparison into the frozen projection of the second fight. "What happened to him?" He turned to glance at Qui-Gon who stood behind their chairs. "Your Master looks as if he had aged years!"

The sadness in Qui-Gon's eyes made his heart ache.

Knight Jinn bent down to the keyboard and let the second vid continue: "Keep watching."

They watched Padawan Jinn return to his Master, fighting for a serene appearance, but radiating only misery.

And the stern Master from the last year now smiled at his apprentice, hugged him closely, even nuzzled his temple in a gesture close to a kiss. And the Padawan clung to him for dear life.

"Does this look as if he tormented me in earnest?" Qui-Gon asked, his voice thick. "I loved him, and when they made him leave and our training bond was severed, I thought I'd go mad."

"But what kind of disease..." Quinlan took his lover's hand. It was cold and moist with sweat and automatically he started to send Qui-Gon some healing energy. Qui-Gon pulled his hand back, shoved it into the sleeve of his robe.

"It was no disease in the common sense of the word," he said, hugging himself. "Our healers think that he was physically tainted with Darkness."

"Tainted?" Torga set back in his chair. "As in 'I was walking around places where the Sith painted the galaxy and my robe got drizzled'?"

"Don't mock me, Tel Halkere! Remember the Vlicor missions?"

"Ugh! Don't remind... Oh! Oh shit..."

Qui-Gon nodded.

"Isn't that the Outer Rim planet with the Force-sensitives who wish no contact with the Jedi, because we are 'too primitive'?" Quinlan couldn't suppress a grin. "Having no space travel, but more arrogance than three Temples full of Jedi Masters?"

"Yup, my dear," Torga replied, frowning as if some things were becoming clearer to him now.

"They have another concept of the Force," Qui-Gon said, slightly irritated. "They don't think in our dualism of Light and Darkness. For them it's only 'the Powers' and you have to master all aspects of them."

"Even the dark ones?"

"Yes. You have to hone all your feelings into tools to gain control of them; from their point of view that's quite logical, for us Jedi it was rather frightening." Qui-Gon's voice trailed away.

Even Torga looked uneasy now. "I remember that," he said. "I was there on the second mission, the research mission where our and their Masters discussed our philosophies. Nowhere else have I felt the Force as strongly as on Vlicor. Even here in the Temple it's usually little more than a faint background noise, on Vlicor however it was loud like a drum. What Jedi they would make!"

Qui-Gon nodded, and suddenly he smiled. "Yes, despite all the horror, it was on Vlicor that I first caught a glimpse of what the Unifying Force is and can do."

He smiled at Quinlan as if asking for lenience. "I was really unbalanced before, a 'total Living Force autist,' as Master Dooku used to put it. It challenged even Master Yoda's patience to fix that."

"Oh, yeah." Torga chuckled. "What did he used to say? 'Padawan Jinn watches the lettuce?'"

"'Jinn is watching the lettuce grow again,'" Qui-Gon growled in a good imitation of his first Master's snarl, "'and monitoring the aphids!'"

He sighed. "Master Dooku considered it a mental handicap that I never had visions during my meditations," he explained to Quinlan. "Except for our fighting training I was a source of constant disappointment to him, so he tried to at least make me a good warrior."

"But what was with the Darkness?" Quinlan prodded when Qui-Gon fell silent once more, apparently 'watching the lettuce grow' again.

"It was there. Not just visible through the Force, but incredibly physical. Sheer blackness mingled like wafts of mist into the Light, and the 'Seeing' of Vlicor, their equivalent of Force-sensitives, considered it to be quite normal."

"But you can't get dark without giving in to Darkness."

"True." Qui-Gon smiled ruefully. "But imagine two Jedi so stricken with their respective ambitions that they deny everything they value, just to trick through. I even cursed my Master!"

"Well, who didn't do so sometimes." Quinlan shrugged.

"Wishing him into the Sith hells?" Qui-Gon snorted. "Well, love, if you ever go to Vlicor, don't do that there! You would conjure up a Dark Side monster that gives you nightmares for years."

"A Dark Side monster? C'mon, Qui, that's crèche tales!" Quinlan chuckled.

"Their Great Inquisitor even had his own name for it."

"Their Great Inquisitor?" Torga almost jumped out of his chair. "You met that guy eventually?!"

"Yes."

"And?!"

Qui-Gon got himself a chair, took the keyboard and closed the files of the Padawans' competition. The next documents were mission reports and Council minutes. Both Quinlan and Torga gaped when he got a security clearance for them.

"That's classified 'For Council Members Only'!"

"Well, there are some advantages being the Green One's Padawan." Qui-Gon flashed him a smug smirk. "All right, Knight Tel Halkere, tell me: do you want to satisfy your curiosity or do you want to follow the rules?"

"Arr-Kanteh and all her hounds!" Torga called one of his homeworld's many underworld deities. "I attended extra classes on cryptography and got no access to these files! Show me!"

"And me too!"

"The Great Inquisitor of Vlicor," Qui-Gon said, looking at Quinlan and switching for a moment into the official reporting tone, "is the most gifted of all the Force-sensitives on their planet. He is not their ruler however, more an advisor to the ruling Council of Elders and of the courts. It is said that he can read every mind despite your shielding. Concerning our missions, he had to read lots of ulterior motives - regarding our Council."

The holoprojector showed a tall man in his early forties with short blond hair and grey eyes. He looked friendly and serene. Except for his black robe with a white cape, he could have been one of the humanoid Jedi Masters.

"Wrong file!" Torga chuckled. "That's Dher Kayyan, our liaison officer from the Inquisitor's office..."

Qui-Gon smiled at him sweetly. "No, my friend, Master Dher Kayyan is the Great Inquisitor of Vlicor, who did his investigations under cover as liaison officer."

Torga groaned. "No-ooh! And we idiots teased him about his boss, who pretended to see everything, but obviously never glanced at his diary and left us all the time with the bores and pedants of their Council!" He groaned even louder. "No wonder they consider us barbarians!"

"Yes, he told me that the other Padawans laughed a lot behind his back and played 'Inquisition' by wearing white bed sheets, staring menacingly at each other and asking tactless questions." Qui-Gon enjoyed seeing Torga writhe. A Jedi does not seek revenge, but... "Actually he saw every thought. And that's what I'm about to tell you, for it were thoughts that caused Master Dooku's change..."

Qui-Gon displayed the planet's data and outlined the essentials of the mission to put Quinlan in the picture.

"The Vlicor missions were not just about the discovery of another organisation of Force-sensitives. From the beginning, the chief aim of the missions was to persuade the Vlicorians to unite with the Jedi or to at least send us some of their children as initiates. Our crèche and initiate classes only worked at half capacity these days, and even those Force-sensitive children not considered worth training on Vlicor would have made quite fine Jedi. But the Seeing of Vlicor considered us a sect with a totally distorted world view, even a danger to their children. There were three missions: the first a discovery mission after we first heard of Vlicor. The second one, accompanied by Torga and his Master, was a larger delegation mostly of Temple Masters and philosophers, who discussed the aspects of our Code and their Rules."

Torga nodded and faked a yawn meant for the philosophers. He winked at Quinlan.

"After one week of the second mission the Vlicorian Council made it clear that they did not consider the Jedi to be their equals and that they were not interested in the contacts our Council suggested. But the Jedi Council, especially Master Yoda, remained stubborn. They wanted initiates and they replaced the philosophers with negotiators. That's why Master Dooku and I came to Vlicor.

Not that we were a team to discuss school exchanges. Normally we were sent to war zones and did cease-fire negotiations: therefore, going to Vlicor looked like a holiday to me. But my Master was frankly totally pissed off. He was running for a Council seat at the time. One seat was vacant, and among the younger Masters my Master had enough supporters who shared his view that it was about time to change the Order's policy towards the Republic. While Master Yoda stresses our role as servants of the Republic, Master Dooku wanted the Jedi to take a more active, less subservient role in bettering the worst of the wrongs - 'to kick the senators out of their plotting and back to work,' as he put it. Therefore he couldn't afford to stay these weeks away from Coruscant where Master Yoda was doing his best to persuade the Masters not to appoint Dooku as Councillor.

If it hadn't been for this thrice-damned Council seat, things wouldn't have gone that way... Anyway, we came to Vlicor as when the second delegation had just entered hyperspace, therefore we could only rely on their mission reports. Master Kayyan was at the airport, and he was not pleased so see the next Jedi arrive.

'We have heard enough of your Order's philosophy,' he said after a cool welcome. 'There's nothing of interest left.'

'Then let's talk business,' my Master said.

What developed then...," Qui-Gon chuckled, "was a fight of minds, one Master trying to mind-whammy the other into acceptance. They stared at each other for almost half an hour like two nerf bulls or two Outer Rim rogues before a fight.

I felt a surge of my Master's anger as he realised that Kayyan was an evenly matched opponent and it wouldn't be an easy job by tricking through.

Master Kayyan obviously enjoyed pitting his strength against my Master. His serene expression became first a smile, then a smirk.

'Well,' he said, 'at least you are a man of determination. Fine. Wait here, I have to announce to the Council that we're still not rid of the Jedi.' With that he left us on the airfield.

We returned to our spacecraft, and my Master was on his knees at once to try and regain his serenity. You could literally watch him releasing his anger into the Force.

The strange thing on Vlicor is that for a Force-sensitive the Darkness is visible there like a thick black fog, not just as an absence of light. Master Dooku seemed to exhale a cloud of black steam, which drifted for a while through our ship, sinking on the floor, seeping away. I found that pretty scary for a moment, but then I thought I could use my time better than watching my Master fume.

Behind the airfield was a large lawn, and I did my meditation there. To be honest, I simply enjoyed it to be surrounded by the Living Force. Five days before, we had been under artillery fire in a desert world's war, then on hyperspace travel... I longed for the Living Force and for greenery.

I woke up with a start when something awfully cold touched me. It was the Darkness. It oozed out of our spacecraft, flowed over the pavement and around me. For a moment I expected a real fire on board and had a flash of a vision - my first vision at all, mind you - unfortunately of my Master in agony, bleeding awfully. I jumped up, ignited my lightsabre and ran to my Master, quite sure that he was being attacked.

But he was fine. He knelt in the passenger compartment, unhurt, scowling: 'Well, Jinn, what's up now?'

I told him of my vision, of the cold I felt from the fog, and to prove my words I put a hand into a really nasty dark tendril of it - and removed it at reflex speed. It was like touching frozen metal; the skin became red and hot, a real burn.

My Master just sighed and shook his head. 'Didn't you read our predecessors' mission reports, Jinn?' he asked irritated. 'You'd know by then that the Dark Side on Vlicor is much stronger than we're used to. Therefore, you shouldn't interfere when I release my anger on that pompous git and the whole blasted mission into the Force! Show me.'

I laid my hand in his and called myself an idiot. The reports of the second delegation read like a scientists' report from a universe where things worked in a different way from the rest of our galaxy.

My Master didn't contradict my description of myself, but at least he healed my hand. 'Listen, Jinn,' he said, 'I don't like this place either. The Dark Side is extremely easy to access here, be careful when you summon the Force at all. Let's see to keep our mission short - successful or not. I need to be on Coruscant, that's important, not bartering for babies in the Rim!'"

"Did he ever call you 'Qui-Gon'?" Torga interrupted with a chuckle. "I only remember this 'Jinn,' and it almost sounded like a curse."

Qui-Gon smiled. "He called me 'Jinn' when he was not satisfied, and 'Padawan' when everything was all right, therefore most of the time I was just 'Jinn'."

"When the others talk about you and Dooku it always sounds as if your apprenticeship had been a living hell," Quinlan observed, "but you seem to be at ease with it."

Qui-Gon sighed heavily. "Up to Vlicor it was hard, but to call it a 'hell' is an exaggeration. Master Dooku was just very stern and most of the time occupied with Republic's politics and not with training a Padawan. Before me he had raised one Padawan to Knighthood, but lost two Padawans in battle. After that he had been paired for years with several Knights for his missions, and therefore he tended to expect a Knight's behaviour from me. That gap constantly led to irritations and frustrations on both sides. But when we didn't rush from one war zone mission to the next, he also was a good teacher with a profound knowledge of philosophy and even a love for art, but we seldom, if ever, had time for that."

Qui-Gon shook his head. "Anyway, suddenly Master Kayyan was back. 'What happened?' he asked. 'The air field police say you used your light weapon?'

I tried to explain.

'For members of an organisation who pretend that 'there is no fear and anger' you radiate very much of it,' he told us, smiling condescendingly. 'The airport weather service is complaining about the clouds you're making.'

My Master just cocked an eyebrow. 'When can we make the Council an offer?'

'Actually, they're not interested in any offers by your organisation and feel partly annoyed about your presence, partly exhausted by your philosophers,' Master Kayyan said. 'If you insist on a meeting, you should wait a week or two and then ask them again. I'm allowed to offer you a guest house. Your philosophers liked it very much.'"

"Oh yes. That was nice," Torga grinned wistfully. "Very posh place. And the taja berry ice cream they sold at the cafe down the street..."

Qui-Gon frowned at him. "My Master was almost killed in your 'very posh place'!"

"How come?"

Qui-Gon growled. "By giving in to anger, even hate, and by lots of ignorance..." He snorted. "Yes, it was a 'posh' place, but with a Master almost seething with nerves, I could not cherish it. Our time was running short, my Master was constantly on the comm unit, consulting with his supporters on Coruscant, who tried to delay the Council hearing concerning the new membership. He suspected he would be outwitted by Yoda and practically banished, and the news from Coruscant proved his theory. The closer the election day in the Council came, the fewer my lessons became, the more battle-like our sparring, and Master Dooku retired longer and longer in meditations on serenity and anger, our training bond almost closed.

I endured it like I had done many times before: partly wallowing in teenage self-pity at never being good enough to meet his standards, partly pretending to be the good little hard-as-durasteel Padawan who knows no emotions at all. I spent a lot of my time on my knees too, trying to release my anger and disappointment into the Force, and the Force-sensitive neighbourhood certainly began to wonder about the amount of negative feelings just two beings can produce.

Master Kayyan stopped by every evening, just to tell us that the Vlicorian Council hadn't decided yet whether they wanted to see us at all.

'To be honest, Master Kayyan,' my Master said on the fourth day, 'I would really appreciate it if there were means of making an appointment with your Council as soon as possible... couldn't you speed things up a little?'

Master Kayyan shrugged and pondered a while. 'Well,' he said then, and his face lit up, 'actually the Great Inquisitor owes me a favour, and he could get the Council to put your request on the agenda.'

'I'd be much obliged to you if you interceded on our behalf,' my Master said hopefully.

'No problem,' Master Kayyan replied. 'Let me have your boy for tonight, and you get your audience tomorrow.'"

"WHAT?" Torga blurted. "How dare he!?"

"Yes, that was my Master's first reaction too. But then he turned to look at me, and I saw he was really considering it! Well, I don't know how you would react to such a proposition at all, but when I realised that my Master took it into earnest consideration, I was speechless, stared at him in shock.

Master Kayyan said to my Master: 'Well, comm me when you've made your decision. I'd expect him at ninth hour, in case you agree.'

With that he left. Smiling.

My Master snarled like a Sith Lord, but he didn't say no. Therefore, I knew which decision was expected from me, though of course he told me that it was totally up to me."

"Don't tell me you agreed!" Quinlan said, aghast.

Qui-Gon closed his eyes. "Of course I agreed."

"That thrice-damned bastard!" Quinlan hit the desk with his fist.

"It was my decision, Quin!"

"Your decision, ha! It's not only against the Code, but against a Master's honour to allow his Padawan such a choice, and you claim..." He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Qui-Gon's sad expression and noticed the suddenly subdued glance from Torga. Both looked at him as if to say 'what do you know, lucky bastard!'

He sat back and huddled into his robe. "Sorry, I didn't mean to..."

"It's all right, Quin." Qui-Gon turned his gaze to the projections, and Torga growled and stared into empty space.

"It was just..." Qui-Gon shrugged. "Of course we knew that it was against the Code. But we were both absolutely positive that our only problem was to be back on Coruscant in time: once there, the other Masters would elect Master Dooku for sure. Maybe that was foolish, but that evening we regarded Master Kayyan's proposition as a chance, whether I liked it or not. As you know, a negotiator team can't declare a mission failed without having even spoken once with the opposite side, meaning their Council in this case. Imagine, we would have returned with that mission left unsolved! Master Yoda couldn't have wished for anything better to declare my Master unqualified to be a Councillor.

I asked for some time to meditate.

Once I'd got upstairs and on my knees, my room was filled with my black fury. This from my Master, who had vowed to defend me against every evil!

I watched the dark fog seep away and thought 'Yes, go downstairs and burn this bastard's ass, while he sits there thinking up the next dirty trick to become Councillor!'

The darkness seemed eager to obey, and I realised that I was giving in to anger, even hate!

'A great Padawan you are, Jinn!' I told myself. 'Cursing your Master!'

But instead of going downstairs and insisting on my rights, I started to think that maybe something wasn't all right with me. Or that this might just be one of these odd trials of obedience and self-control our Masters sometimes catch us out with. My Master couldn't be that bad, of course he would have reconsidered in the meantime, and... well, the Force knows what I hoped for then. Something like going downstairs, telling him: 'All right, Master, I'll go.' and he would tell me something like: 'Your obedience honours me, but I'd never sell my Padawan! Jinn, what are you thinking!' - all that wishful thinking you intoxicate yourself with in such a situation.

And if he hadn't changed his mind: the only thing I had to endure was a fuck. Nobody would sell me to the Hutts, nobody would feed me to a Rancor. The reports of the second delegation assessed Master Kayyan as a friendly, helpful and cultivated man, though towards us, the unwanted, he behaved brusquely. The only problem I saw at the end was, well, inexperience as the source of my fear."

"Inexperience?" Torga swallowed hard. "I thought you were with Tahl at the time."

"Yes, but boy... she was a sixteen-year old girl I knew from the crèche on... Master Kayyan was a stranger and an adult male. A little difference, one might say."

"And the Force?" Quinlan asked carefully.

"Screamed 'no' to me. But I wasn't sure if I heard the Force at all or my own anxiety. The decision was made de facto, I just tried to release my fear and... to be honest, also my doubts: did this serve the greater good of the galaxy by changing the Order's policy, or did it just serve my Master's personal ambitions to become Councillor? How much could he move as one out of twelve when Yoda was against him? On the other hand, there was my selfishness: I didn't want to disappoint him, and more than that, I wanted to be loved by him, I wanted to be more to him than just a heavy burden. If I went so far beyond the Code, he had to be at least grateful...

In the end I tried to clear my mind of all misgivings and focussed on the mission ahead. I had seen boy prostitutes often enough, in a hole full of Hutts or in the most cultivated places - I had just never thought to make myself one.

I dressed in my formal tunics and went down to the living room where my Master knelt.

He looked up and nodded. Said nothing, just stood up and commed Master Kayyan: 'We agree.'

Then he turned to me and hugged me. 'I'll make it up to you, Padawan, I promise.'

Believe it or not, but I felt loved this moment. Sure, I functioned the way he wanted me to, but I had never been in his arms this way, and it felt so right and reassuring there. For years I had longed for his acceptance, and then I got it for disregarding the Code...

I lowered my shields to absorb all the reassurance I could get from him. Suddenly he froze, and asked, bewildered, 'No practice in it?'

I shook my head and murmured something about 'never had time,' and he shook his head and just said: 'Well really, Jinn!'

I felt like a complete idiot again. He let me go, started pacing and cursed the Council, as always. He said that in the ancient times Padawans had been automatically and from the beginning also their Masters' bedmates, and that there should be a law against sixteen-year old virgins, but not against Masters breaking in their Padawans.

I flinched at the term 'breaking in'. Despite all my longing to be loved, I had actually never dared to think about my Master in a sexual relation with me. I couldn't imagine him aroused because of me or even making love to me. But I could very well imagine the dirty look he would give me for any romantic notion. He was a bit of a ladies' man and had, on all our missions, refused the offered pleasure boys with a certain trace of disgust.

Anyway, Master Kayyan arrived as if he had been lurking around the next corner. Whatever he had done in the meantime, he had at least changed his Sithly black inquisitor's uniform to the colourful Vlicorian civilian clothes, wearing just plain trousers and a shirt. My Master glared at him, he smiled back, I bowed to my Master, and that was all, no admonitions, no threats, but no mockery either. I sat in his vehicle and did not look back.

On Vlicor the short-range traffic is ground-bound. Though the design of Master Kayyan's car spoke of velocity, he could drive only at walking speed, because the streets were full of joyful, almost dancing people, wearing even more colourful garb than the Vlicorians normally do. Lots of them, especially the girls, had flowers in their hair.

'Let's see if you did your homework,' Master Kayyan said. 'Which holiday is tonight?'

This one I knew: 'Midsummer,' I said. 'People gather outdoors to sing, dance and picnic. It's considered a holy night, the turning point in the year, from summer to the darker half of the year.'

'And do they look like as if they fear the darker half?' he asked.

I had a closer look at the passers-by. Obviously not. Obviously he was going to lecture me. I became stubborn and answered rather grumpily: 'Nobody seems to fear the Darkness on your planet except the air traffic controllers.'

He laughed about that and let me be.

But my bond with my Master was blocked now. When I tried to contact him, my thoughts came back as an echo to me. I felt like I was sitting in a sphere of Force-blocking metal, and I realised I would be much more alone than expected.

We needed almost an hour for a distance we could have walked easily in that time. When more and more people greeted Master Kayyan and he even stopped to talk with some, I knew we were near his home, and my arduously gathered serenity frayed at the edges.

His house was a large villa, and when he stopped the vehicle in front of the building, two ladies came out, waving bouquets of flowers: 'We're out for the party then, Sir. The ladies and the young gentlemen have already left.'

I gritted my teeth. We would be totally alone. Not promising at all.

Master Kayyan didn't waste any time, just led me up the stairs to his bedroom and said: 'Undress'.

Well, what do you do in such a situation? I tried to focus on the meeting with the Council, while pondering about talking myself out of this or simply running away. But Master Dooku relied on me. After all, he had not followed us, though our bond was interrupted. I stripped.

Master Kayyan was rummaging in a wardrobe, and I prayed he was searching for lube.

At least I didn't need to make a show of getting rid of my clothes.

When I was bare except for my underpants, he said 'Stop!' and went over to me. I tried to retire into a light mediation trance, but failed. I could just suppress a shiver when he laid his hands on my shoulders, pulled me gently back against his chest.

'Tell me, little Jedi,' he said, 'what do you wish?'

The 'little' was actually ridiculous, because I was almost as tall as him. But what did I wish for? That he'd get it over and done with of course. I didn't care for small talk. For some hard drugs maybe to get rid of my consciousness for the next hours. And for my Master burning in the deepest Sith hells along with his Council seat...

I heard his sharp intake of breath and felt his fingers tighten. 'That's a rather unholy wish for such a sacred night,' he warned. 'Be careful what you wish for tonight, little Jedi, it's said that the wishes of midsummer night come true.'

'I haven't told you my wish so far!' I told him. 'And actually I have no wishes.'

'And that's a lie', he reprimanded. 'I was told Jedi don't lie.'

My despair grew. I opted to tell him a part of the truth: 'I wish you would play no games with me, Sir. I've never done this before with a man, and I fear to make a fool of myself, that's all.'

'No,' he said, slowly massaging my shoulders, 'that's not all: if you could act like you wish, you would run away. You are here because your Master wishes so.'

'No, Sir, it was my decision to come.'

'And why did you decide to do something you're afraid of? You've got quite a pulse rate, boy, but I don't sense any arousal.'

Well, what to answer? I retreated to the Code: 'My fear is just an outcome of my ignorance.' I turned my head, forced myself to look as friendly as I could. 'I would be honoured to learn from you.'

He growled and let go of me.

'Honoured, huh? Boy, you should see yourself now! Not to mention your mind! You're here because your Master wants you to be here! You loathe it! You wish him to burn in an eternal fire to punish him for his ambitions! Why do you obey his wishes?'

I surrendered. 'We have unfinished business at home,' I told him. 'Important business and we need an appointment as soon...'

'Important to you or your Master?'

'To the Republic.'

'Gah, no!' he said indignantly. 'Important to you or your Master? And be warned, boy, don't you lie to me! I read your heart, I read your mind, but I want you to voice it to accept it yourself!'

I got angry about his way of treating me like a child. 'If you read my mind, what am I thinking now?' I asked him, and started in my mind to recite our spacecraft's checklist.

And he repeated it, word for word, every single circuit and aggregate.

I stared at him in shock.

'Don't forget you're dealing with the inquisition.' He smiled and cocked an eyebrow. 'I know your Master is a candidate for the ruling body of your Order. Is that important for you too?'

I felt my stomach cramp. 'Well,' I said, defeated, 'considering what I saw on our missions I actually think he's right in that our Council's politics should change.'

'Do you gain any advantages when your Master is promoted to the Council?'

'No,' This was a certainty. 'For me personally it's a disadvantage, because he'll have less time for my training.'

'So why do you wish him to succeed?'

Good question. At last I told him the truth: 'It's just... I want to help him, because I want him to like me more. I wasn't chosen like a Padawan normally is: normally it's a longer process of observation. But he just rushed into the crèche one fine day, announced he needed a Padawan learner and asked for someone with a talent for the lightsabre. I was just around on cleaning duty, he was the famous swordmaster Dooku and I cheered 'Me! Me!'. And it was done. When he later discovered my imbalance in the Force, he was all but delighted to have an apprentice with learning difficulties. But he did not send me away. I'm grateful for that.'

'But you think he should be more grateful for your devotion,' Master Kayyan concluded. 'I see...'

He went to the wardrobe and gave me some clothes he had taken out before our talk: 'Put these on. We're going out tonight.'

'So you won't...?' I blurted with relief.

'It would be bloody rape of body and soul, wouldn't it?' he asked.

I just nodded, too ashamed to answer. I hastily dressed, but when my fear left me, I realised I had ruined the Council's cause.

'Listen, Padawan Jinn,' Master Kayyan said in a reassuring voice, 'from the beginning, there was no chance at all that we send your Order children to train. I have four kids, all 'Force-sensitive' more or less. But I don't want even the most annoying of these brats to be turned into someone as subdued as you are. It's not your fault, not even your Master's alone. It's the system of 'no's you're living in.

Ignorance, okay, that's a nasty thing, but there should be emotions, there should be passion. What's your Master's ambition if not passion? The choice is not between passion or serenity, but what you make out of your passion: reform your Republic? Well, from what I've heard of it, that is a task that will take all the passion one can gather. Or you can stay serene and watch your Republic go on as it does. Serenity towards criminals? Even hate can be a mighty weapon when you're able to master it well. But I don't want to repeat the whole discussion we've had with your philosophers... ah, fine, you look almost like a Vlicorian now. Let's see to it that you get an impression of our midsummer.'

'So this strip was just a test?' I asked, feeling cheated, but happy.

He shrugged. 'Oh, in principle I'm not averse to a one-night stand with a willing young man,' he grinned. 'But you're right: these four days were a test. The Council and I wanted to see the difference between your philosophers' talk and the behaviour of a mission team of your organisation. But again: it's not your fault. It's your ideology and your Master's ambition I blame.'

I was so relieved I could have kissed him then without any misgivings. I tried again to contact my Master to tell or at least to make him feel that I was all right.

'Let him sweat, Padawan Jinn,' Master Kayyan said. 'He deserves no better.'"

"Ah!" Torga laughed. "You may say about Vlicorians what you like, but with this he was right!"

"No! Nobody deserves this! If Master Dooku had known earlier, these things probably wouldn't have happened, you know. I on the other hand had a night out with a friendly and relaxed Master Kayyan, who showed me the city and the parks full of cheerful people, and concerning your taja berries, Torga, I call tell you they make quite a fine wine.

At midnight we were at the old palace where the rich and beautiful partied and where I happened to learn that Master Kayyan was the head of the Inquisition, not one of the subordinates: a fat man greeted him with his title, and the fat one turned out to be the chairman of the Vlicorian Council. But Master Kayyan forbid me to 'talk business'.

They had fireworks at midnight, and we watched them from the palace terrace. Master Kayyan stood behind me, his arms around my waist, and I was quite thankful, for the chairman was nastily drunk and uttered some lewd ideas about how to 'explore the Jedi better'..."

"Eww, yeah, I remember this guy..." Torga sneered. "A moralist with a well-known taste for underage lovers and bondage..."

Qui-Gon frowned, as if to focus on the picture in his mind. "It was then, in the middle of the fireworks, that I suddenly felt the Living Force scream to me of danger. Hadn't it been for Master Kayyan, I would have passed out from the terrible pain. I hung in his arms for a moment, seeing nothing but darkness, and then teeth, no, fangs, and orange eyes, like a huge predator's. And my Master. Bleeding awfully. I broke away and ran.

I felt my way back to our house through the Force, but I could not access it to raise my speed. The closer I came, the thicker the Darkness got. When I saw our house, the Darkness closed around me, took my view away, my orientation. It was terribly cold, it hurt, and all I could think was: I won't survive it, I want to get of here, out, out, out. I could hear it hissing around me, a source of pure hatred, so strong that it seemed to choke me. I screamed for my Master.

Suddenly Master Kayyan was beside me, radiating pure Light in the black fog, letting me breathe again.

'Don't go there!' he roared. 'It will kill you too!'

Me too? I ran to our door, realising that my lightsabre was still in Master Kayyan's house. When I touched the door-handle it was like touching hot metal, and I had to kick in the door. And there, in the darkness, there were the eyes, the fangs, but no outlines of a body, just blackness. I saw the blade of my Master's sabre, but immobile, and then that ... being jumped at me. But it failed. Master Kayyan was there, sending a flash of pure light into the blackness ... with his bare hand, imagine that, and the blackness burst into the tendrils of darkness we knew so well, and these seeped away into the floor.

My Master lay in the living area, the sabre still in his hand, but his shoulder was totally destroyed and bled as in my visions. The collarbone was crushed and all the flesh above torn, as was the artery, and he was bleeding to death. I had seen once a Knight cauterising a comrade's wound with a lightsabre, and I did the same to stop the bleeding. Ironically, when I saw it years ago, I almost passed out, and my Master slapped me in the face to keep me conscious. When I had to do it myself, I could do it.

Master Dooku woke up from the pain, and never again did I see such a horror in his eyes, when he looked around to locate the monster. He gasped with relief when he recognised me. He grabbed my shirt, almost shouted at me, asked if I was all right. If I was all right! Force! I did everything to calm him, told him that I had just been out for a party with Master Kayyan.

He smiled with relief, and he stroked my cheek and my braid, like all the other Masters do with their Padawans, but my stern Master never did, and then he fainted and I realised that he was dying.

Master Kayyan stood motionless beside me.

'Call the healers!' I shouted at him.

'No, Padawan Jinn,' he said and laid a hand on my shoulder. 'Let him die in peace.'

'In peace?! He's been eaten alive by a monster! Oh Force, please Master Kayyan, call the healers!'

'You don't know about this 'monster',' Master Kayyan said. 'Even if he recovers from the wound, he will be of what you Jedi call the 'Dark Side'.'

I stared at him in disbelief. My Master would not become Dark. We were Jedi, we knew how to keep the Dark Side in check!

'If you don't want to get us any healers, please provide me transport back to our ship!' I begged, trying to convey some healing energy into my Master's body. 'Please! I don't want him to die! I don't... oh Force, is this what I wished for?'

'Partly,' he said and knelt down, touching Master Dooku's forehead. 'All these dark feelings you both released here, his anger and his hatred for me called the Talasum, the manifestation of Darkness you saw. If he survives, the Talasum will survive in him too. Do you want that?"

'Our healers will find medication against that!' I promised. 'Just help me to make him survive! Please! I love him, even if I cursed him, I do love him!'

Master Kayyan sighed. 'Again, you don't know what you wish for, boy,' he said, but then he gave my Master Light, an intense energy, much more than I could muster in my state of shock.

'I'll take you back to your ship, and you'll leave the planet immediately. And you won't return. Never, understood? As Great Inquisitor I have to protect my people from these manifestations of Darkness, not to create new ones!'

He helped me bring Master Dooku back to our spacecraft, helped me even to carry him inside. Then he grabbed me, kissed me on both cheeks and the forehead like the Vlicorians do to bless someone, and he said: 'I pray to the Powers that your healers have a cure for him, Padawan Jinn. If not, kill him, I implore you, if you want to survive, and your brethren too.'

With that he left, and I rushed into the cockpit and set a course for the next planet that provided hospital facilities for humanoids - Gensun, three days' hyperspace travel ahead."

"You don't expect me to buy that on Vlicor the Dark Side can turn into a physical monster that infects people with Darkness like some... rabies?" Quinlan scrolled up and down the mission report on the screen. "And, hey... you didn't include in the report that your Master sold you... You reported an invitation by Master Kayyan!"

Qui-Gon nodded. "A lie to protect my Master. The first one of many to follow." He opened another file, a healer's report, including a picture of a terrible wound. Quinlan almost jumped.

"This is the bite I'm talking about, and I do swear that there was a being which caused it and which vanished into the ground afterwards!" He closed the pic because his friend had turned pale.

Torga breathed in with a hiss. "How did you treat that? Three days in hyperspace are an awfully long time for such a wound."

Qui-Gon nodded. "Bacta, IV solution, and when that ran out, my own blood. Thank the Force we had the same blood group... These three days - if I have nightmares, they're mostly about these days. Yes, I know, there are these stories about the brave Padawan saving his Master's life, but if you have to do it and nobody to ask except the ship computer, and the ship computer says, give him an IV, but the first aid kits are used up, and your Master is tossing and turning in fever and screams in nightmares and visions, but doesn't wake up, even if you shout at him and slap his face and you have to cut in the wound again, because the flesh is turning black... you don't feel brave at all, only desperate and terribly alone. And this blood donation..." he laughed mirthlessly, "Force, it helped, it helped in way you won't believe at all! He got a little better afterwards, but it cost me my strength, and as the Living Force autist I was, I couldn't access the Force in hyperspace. When we reached Gensun, the healers put us both into the ER."

Qui-Gon scrolled down the screen, which showed the healers' report on Padawan Jinn.

"In hindsight, it's a dark thought too, but I think, if he hadn't shown me his affection in the moment he considered to be his last, I wouldn't have had the strength to keep him among the living. Anyway... when he woke up after three bacta days in the healers' ward, he was genuinely bewildered to be alive.

I tried to report to him what happened. I didn't mention that the Council seat had meanwhile been given to Master Yaddle. I just chattered about being outside with Master Kayyan and about the beautiful celebrations, but he seemed not interested at all. He took my hand, nuzzled my palm and moaned.

'Jinn,' he said, 'stop rambling, sit down next to me and stay here.'

There I stayed, sitting on my Master's bed, first just holding hands, then he laid his head on my thigh and wrapped his arms around my waist and fell asleep.

I was dumbfounded. My Master had never had the tendency to cuddle, least of all me. The Jedi healers the Temple had sent to Gensun at first praised the touching Master-Padawan relationship, but on the third day they started to ask odd questions. Whether we were always that intimate, what the sleeping arrangements on missions were like and all that stuff! I could have become angry, but I laughed aloud. They were asking me if we were lovers!

'No, of course not!' I told them. 'I don't understand this either. When we're on missions and there's only one berth, I sleep on the floor.'

'So it's a part of the symptoms,' they said as if they had gained a deeper insight now, but they had no idea at all.

Something had infected him; but the healers never found a virus or anything like that. But if being bitten by Darkness led to doting behaviour towards Padawans, who was I to complain?

The truth about that behaviour we learnt when my Master was well enough to get out of bed and take up his usual meditation routine. He had lost his access to the Living Force, and being near me allowed him to partake of my Force aura, though he had the feeling all the energy of it was draining away through him into the Darkness. But feeling my energy, he felt better for a while - and I had an explanation for being so terribly exhausted all the time.

We stayed two weeks on Gensun while the healers tried to sort this out. In the end they told us he was 'not mentally, but physically tainted by Darkness,' a case they had never had before, and they felt rather helpless."

"Our healers helpless!" Quinlan stopped looking at Qui-Gon and turned his gaze to the screen. "Didn't they contact Master Kayyan?"

"Of course they did! But his recommendation remained the same: to kill my Master."

"If he aged thus fast..." Quinlan opened the holovid with the lightsabre competition one more time. "Qui, does this saying 'he left the Order' actually mean 'he left the Order to die' or 'he left by dying'?"

Qui-Gon shook his head. "No, he's still alive. I don't know where he is, but from time to time I feel him."

He grinned ruefully. "Meditation in the pure Living Force is more than watching lettuce grow, you know..."

"Yeah," Torga mumbled, "monitoring aphids and Dark Jedi Masters." He cursed and hugged himself. "Am I right if I suppose that giving in into Darkness heals such a physical 'taint' or makes it at least bearable?"

"You are right."

"And am I right if I suspect that the Council knew of that fact and instead of sending him away at once they allowed him to... Hells and all the demons of damnation!" He jumped up. "How could they! If he had to torture someone to feel better why not find him a Hutt or someone else who deserved it!"

"Someone deserves to be tortured? Tsk, tsk, Knight Tel Halkere..." Qui-Gon's voice had an increasingly sharp edge. "That's not Jedi-like!"

"Call it Ryban... You know exactly what I mean!"

"Yes, but you start from the wrong premises." Qui-Gon closed the files, switched off the holoprojector. "The Council and the healers both had no idea what to do. Like me on Vlicor, they thought that as a Jedi you can keep the Darkness in check, and my Master was one of the most gifted Masters among the humanoid Jedi. As for a cure, we found one that night when you took your departure at low altitude through my quarters. It wasn't about torture. It was about blood."

"Blood?" Torga asked with disbelief, wrinkling his nose.

"Yes," Qui-Gon said with a lopsided grin. "With the same Force signature that prevented my Master from dying at a time when he was meant to die by the Dark Side of the Force."

"You mean...?" Quinlan felt suddenly sick and pressed his hand on his mouth to fight the wave of nausea back.

Qui-Gon rubbed his back. "Oh, he did it better than your Anzati, Quin, believe me."

Quinlan gulped for air.

"Easy, love, easy. As you see, I survived it."

Torga didn't want to witness Qui-Gon's care for his lover too blatantly and checked meanwhile the database for 'Anzati'.

"Oh, fuck," he breathed. "But how could he..."

"Torga!" Qui-Gon used a Force trick to clear the screen before Quinlan looked up, "Let's go to my quarters and have some tea and a brandy, okay?"

Qui-Gon's quarters meant Master Yoda's quarters, and Torga hesitated a moment to enter the home of the venerable head of the Order, feeling the way he still felt about the Council.

Master Yoda was not at home, but both Quinlan and Torga went automatically in the direction of the Padawan's room. Qui-Gon knew this reserve of all of his visitors to make themselves comfortable in Master Yoda's living area.

When Qui-Gon came into his room after a while with the tea and a bottle of Alderaanian brandy, Torga and Quinlan sat on his bed, staring in silence at his packed kitbag and the small container in which Qui-Gon had stuffed his few personal belongings to get them into a storage room. His first year in the field was due to begin, and if he returned, he would get assigned his own quarters and could unpack there. The bed was stripped, the wardrobe and shelves empty, and Qui-Gon suddenly felt the melancholy which had overwhelmed his friends.

"Hey, it's a beginning!" he said, handing out cups and glasses.

He opened the bottle. "When I moved in here, I thought 'one week and then I'm either dead or mad', but Master Yoda calmly bore all my foul moods." He filled the glasses. "What he will say about the fact that we're drinking his best brandy is something else entirely... Come on, guys, to the Olojah mission!"

"To the mission!" his friends echoed, drank, and then both moved aside to offer him a place between them. This happened so synchronously that they smiled at each other in slight embarrassment, but each of them wanted Qui-Gon by his side.

"Into the breach!" Qui-Gon dropped between them, grinned at Torga, smiled at Quinlan. "Is this a plot somehow?"

"No," Torga said with a snicker. "But it could turn out to be a very cosy interrogation technique, couldn't it, Knight Vos?"

"Well..." Quinlan frowned at the sight of Torga's hand on Qui-Gon's knee. He felt Qui-Gon tense under the slow survey Torga's fingers made up his thigh. But suddenly Quinlan felt impish enough to mirror this move. Qui-Gon gasped and nearly spilled his brandy.

"Oh yes, it works!" Quinlan chuckled. "The delinquent is shaking, definitely."

"What about stage two?" Torga breathed into Qui-Gon's right ear.

"Well, I bet he'll be shivering when I do that..." Quinlan sucked at the other earlobe.

"Boys!" Qui-Gon almost squeaked. "What if..." He glanced at the door.

Torga moaned. "Oh shit, yeah..." He sat back. "I should have tea instead." He helped himself. "Last time I was with Qui-Gon on a bed drinking his Master's brandy, it was that night... The famous twenty seconds, you know..." He winked at Quinlan, then he sipped at the steaming tea, smiling wistfully.

Qui-Gon nodded, rather preoccupied.

Quinlan snuggled up to him, resting his head on Qui-Gon's shoulder. "What happened?"

"Well..." Qui-Gon took a deep breath. "When Torga had left our quarters, my Master turned to me, arms akimbo and hissed: 'Get on your feet!'

I felt miserable: fucking around while my Master kept on his duty, tried to save governments, despite his disease that made him age more and more. But I had needed this night off, being with someone else, thinking, talking about something else. I had not planned to end up in bed, but when Torga had asked me, it had felt all right, nevertheless...

I wrapped myself in a sheet and stood up.

Master Dooku backhanded me across the face, made my lower lip split.

'My Padawan,' he snapped at me, grabbing my face and digging his fingers bruisingly into my jaw, 'bottoms for nobody! Is that understood!'

I nodded, holding his gaze. It was exactly the reaction I had awaited from him, together with the common punishment, and not looking at him would lead to a second slap, this much I had learnt in my first week as Padawan.

What followed then, I would have never expected. Suddenly he gasped, let go of me and stared at me like he had been struck himself. Some drops of my blood had hit his hand, and he stared at them in wonder, looked up at me.

I sucked in my lower lip, tried to summon some healing energy, but aware of having stained my Master, I looked around for a towel or tissue to give him.

'No,' he said. 'Stay here and let me have a look at this!'

I obeyed, and with his thumb he wiped the blood from my lip, sent me some healing energy. The strange thing was the relaxing effect this had on him. Normally, when he had to tend the bruises he inflicted on me, he was grumpy. Now his features became serene, peaceful and he smiled, licking a smear from his stained thumb.

Ugh, I thought, disgusting. But obviously he's received a dose of my Living Force and feels better know.

I started to relax too, thought about getting dressed, taking a certain bottle of massage oil back to the refresher, and changing the sheets on my bed, but then he reached for my face again and stroked my cheek. Very tenderly.

It was the same gesture as on Vlicor, and it ended the same way, with a caress for my braid.

He smiled at me, and I smiled back hesitantly, assuming this was a kind of apology for the hard slap and that I was released now for tonight.

But then he embraced me, pressed me against him almost violently, nuzzling my neck and tugging the sheet away that had been my only clothing until now.

I flinched when one of his hands rested on the small of my back, but he pulled me back against his body, and his hand wandered even lower, stroking my buttocks.

Force, I thought, this is going to be indecent, this is not allowed! - This was my Master!

'Master,' I asked, 'are you sure you want to continue this?'

He chuckled, kissing the side of my neck, 'Pretty sure.' He emphasised this with a tender lick, breathing in so deeply in my Living Force aura that I became dizzy.

'...not allowed,' I mumbled, grabbing his robe to stay upright.

He looked at me with a mischievous smile. But mischief was no trait of my Master, nor was the orange reflection in his eyes. It was gone in an instant, but I'd seen it long enough to be reminded of the Vlicor monster and Master Kayyan's words: 'the Talasum will survive in him too.'

I hoped very much that it was gone together with the orange glow. Otherwise I would have an explanation for his strange behaviour - and a dire problem.

He walked me back to the desk, made me sit on the table top.

'It's all right, Padawan,' he said soothingly, stroking my cheek. Putting his hand under my chin and raising my head a little, he smiled down on me. 'Come on, Jinn, you brought that ratty friend of yours up here just to get laid. Have a little faith in me, and let's do it like in the old times, when the Master had to be his Padawan's first.'"

"That freak called me 'ratty'?!" Torga interrupted indignantly.

Qui-Gon smirked and shrugged. "Well, to be honest, your Padawan haircut reminded lots of people of the Dagobah swamp hedgehogs..."

"But using hair gel was fashionable that year!"

"As was the red dye the year before," Qui-Gon grinned and turned to Quinlan. 'It's a shame you were not raised at the Temple, Quin, you missed Torga outshining even the landing field markings with his home-dyed orange hair."

Tel Halkere almost wailed. "The Force knows how much I missed you, Qui! What I missed not at all, however, was your way of paying compliments!"

Quinlan Vos snarled. "Certain ugly creatures aside, Qui-Gon, you're not going to tell me that your Master tried to seduce you?!"

"And succeeded, yes."

"But..."

"I know, it's forbidden, Quin." Qui-Gon took his lover's hand, entwined their fingers. "But then... I sat there, he stood in front of me, caressing my face, especially my lower lip with his thumbs. I knew it was not right. I knew it was my duty as a Padawan learner to recite the Code's article in question, and if he had been trying to continue touching me, that would have turned into a crime.

But I didn't. I wanted to show him that I trusted him, no matter what happened to him. And, by the Force, he was changing!

The strange thing was, as fragile as he looked, after a period of decay in the first weeks the disease increased his abilities in the Force in an eerie way. Some days ago we had hunted a senator's assassins in the lower levels of the city, some accomplices jumped out of a lane, and it was the first time that I saw a humanoid Jedi shoot visible Force energy like lightning at an opponent to disarm him. My Master was shocked at himself at first, but then he smiled in delight and practised that technique.

In those days I was unable to decide if I felt horror or something that was love out of compassion.

And this...

'Don't be afraid,' he asked me, and he bent down and kissed my temple.

'Master, please,' I said, sitting back and checking the colour of his eyes, 'that's not right! It's your disease that makes you want to touch me...'

'So?' he interrupted me, kissing my cheeks very gently, then the corner of my mouth. 'You know I need to feel you. Even the healers approve of me eating like a parasite from your Living Force just to keep me going on. Have you ever heard... oh, I'm sure you have... about the saying that making love increases one's Living Force?'

I had, but did not dare to admit it. And he kissed me in earnest.

At first, I was shocked. But my shock was a moral-induced one. When I focussed on his kiss, I felt no disgust at all. His kisses felt strange and wonderful at the same time. I knew this wasn't my Master's behaviour, but this man kissed me as if he were deeply in love with me. His hands came down, one stroking my neck, my throat, the other one surveying my chest, resting over my heart for quite a while. I couldn't help gasping when a finger skimmed a nipple, but I also couldn't help thinking about the female Knights or Masters he had dated, and I began to fear he might be disappointed with my body.

'They don't taste as good as you do, Padawan,' he whispered, barely leaving my lips, and kissed me again.

By that I realised that our training bond - shielded for months almost to non-existence to protect me against the Darkness - was wide open. And what I felt pulsating over it was a hunger so intense that it was beyond my imagination. I simply couldn't say 'no' to him. I returned the kisses.

He parted my legs with a knee, pulled me into his tight embrace. That moment was awfully embarrassing. I was hard, he would notice now, and I was afraid of any comment he would make about that. But he just pressed me against his body, and through the layers of his tunics I felt his erection - and was three times more embarrassed.

He just moaned. A low sound so full of satisfaction and bliss, that I forgot everything about embarrassment soon. I moaned too then, and he chuckled, pushed me gently onto my back and started to kiss me everywhere.

'I'm sorry, Padawan,' he growled when he had reached my groin, stroking my erection, 'I have to modify my orders: my Padawan bottoms for nobody, except for his Master, agreed?'

I stared at him, baffled, but managed to nod.

He took me then, me lying on my back and totally dazed about the unthinkable that was going to happen: my Master making love to me.

He didn't undress more than necessary, and I still remember the wondrous sensation of the friction of fabric, the cool feeling of his utility belt between my thighs as I wrapped my legs around his waist, and then the heat inside me when his penis worked its way into my body. Thanks the Force Torga had been more than generous with the lube; my Master cared not at all for preparation. I came then, much too early, but he bent down, stroked my face, kissed me for reassurance, and then he started to move within me.

It hurt - but it made me feel so terribly good that I thought something about the definition of 'suffering' was blurry. He laughed when he received that thought, made me sit up a little, propped up on my elbows, and he buried his face in my neck, giving me lots of itchy love bites, teasing me with his thrusting and stroking me again into arousal.

Then he came, and when he came, he bit down so hard that I understood precisely where the difference between sexually hazed pain in pleasure and real suffering is. It was like blades, like fangs burning through my flesh, the worst searing pain I had ever experienced, and I panicked, fought against him - and passed out.

When I woke up next morning, we were in his bed. He lay beside me, naked. He held me in his arms, gazed down at me and caressed my neck with intense healing energy.

'Forgive me, Padawan,' he said, and I needed some moments to figure out why his voice surprised me so: it was as sound as were his features. I stared at him in wonder, touched his face. What I saw was my Master almost as he had looked before the Vlicor mission, not the old man he had become recently. A few more lines of sorrow, yes, but his gaunt features had filled out, the skin under his eyes didn't look that translucent blue anymore. I beamed with joy, laughed aloud, but when I sat up to watch a bigger part of that wonder, I felt light-headed and sick. He soothed me in his arms, nuzzled my temple and sighed.

'Forgive me, Padawan,' I heard him again, 'but I fear I found a remedy for my disease'.

'Doing me?' I asked, incredulous.

'No,' he whispered. 'Drinking your blood.'

I stared at him, said something not really sensible like 'Well, if it helps, you're welcome...'.

But then I realised it was no joke, no joke at all, the bloody reality so to speak, for I was fainting with exhaustion when I tried to get up.

He called the healers. And suddenly our quarters were not just full of healers, but almost the complete Council. I got an infusion and a Council interrogation at the same time. The healers were enthusiastic, they had a marvellous lead for their research, but the Council... well, I was a junior Padawan and even a Force-blind person would have seen that we had had sex, and something entirely different from the kiss-and-cuddle they allow some hand-picked senior Padawans.

That Master Yoda didn't behead my Master at once was all. Never again have I seen him thus enraged. He put my Master under guard, sent him to the healers' ward and grilled me about last night's events. Well, try to lie to Master Yoda - impossible. But I begged and pleaded not to get separated from my Master now, when we had finally found a way to heal the disease.

'To bed one's Padawan and make him bleed dry, no remedy it is!' the Green One snarled. 'A Dark Side thing it is. Very dark. Meditate on this issue the Council will. Attend to your classes you will, see your Master only in company of a Council member you will.'

I rested for some hours, feeling too dizzy to do anything, but the infusion seemed to help, so I wobbled to my next classes. Sitting through some lessons of mathematics and interplanetary law wasn't that hard, I only had to explain how I had suddenly become so fashion-conscious as to wear a scarf. But during the lightsabre sparring I passed out... and, Torga, the healers knew exactly where these 'love bites' were from. But I couldn't officially say that they were from my Master! All our yearmates assumed that you and me were lovers, therefore it was the most logical explanation. I'm sorry."

"Uh-huh." Torga flopped back on the mattress. "Dammit, Qui, you can give an innocent knight a completely new outlook on utility belts!" His fingers stroked down Qui-Gon's side.

Quinlan scowled. With a swift move he unbuckled Qui-Gon's belt and tossed the leather to Torga. "There you are!" He wrapped his arms around Knight Jinn. Very possessively. A natural born guardian. "That was an atrocity, nothing to have fantasies about, Knight Tel Halkere! A Master isn't allowed to take advantage of his Padawan! And no preparation! Dammit, Qui-Gon, that was rape, not lovemaking! Are you sure he didn't mind-trick you?"

"No, I'm not."

"And?!"

Qui-Gon shrugged. "Stop squeezing the air out of me, Quin, please."

Quinlan gaped at him in disbelief and let go.

Qui-Gon poured himself another cup of tea.

"What did you expect, Knight Vos?" Torga rolled over on his side, staring at the outraged Knight. "These were the days of the Corellia crisis. Do you expect the Council to lock up their best field operative in such a situation, just for shagging his Padawan and becoming a Dark Jedi with a taste for fresh, warm blood? If so, dream on! Next day the great Master was back on duty, and Qui, well, he was pale, he was exhausted, but he was - excuse me, Qui-Gon - expendable in comparison with the good of the Republic, an apprentice with average marks, Padawan learner to a warrior who tended to lose his boys in battle anyhow... Ha! Not to mention the most terrific: everyone expected Master Yoda to use the opportunity to ban his political adversary, but Master Yoda didn't! 'Our first concern the Republic is.' Oh yeah! One could think these days they'd all gone mad up there in the Council Chamber."

"He gave my Master a second chance." Qui-Gon held his tea mug with both hands and carefully blew the steam away.

"Fine! And what use did he make of it? Tell your lover about the night on Corellia! He'd better hear your version than mine!"

Qui-Gon took a sip. "But let me explain first that it was not cruelty that made my Master do this. It was the need of his changed nature. He became Dark, yes, that's true, but not in the common sense of devoting oneself to anger and hate - he became another being, physically. Though he was still determined to serve the Jedi, and the Council still hoped for a remedy. He was their best field operative, and they didn't want to give him up."

"And you?"

"Me? As you said, these were the days of the Corellia crisis and so on." Qui-Gon smiled at his lover as if to ask for forgiveness. "Don't be angry, Quin. They cared for me as well as they could. But it was I who did not follow their advice."

"Why does this sound so damn familiar to me?" Quinlan growled and poured himself a second brandy.

Qui-Gon closed his eyes. "Quin, image your Master Tholme had been attacked by this being on Vlicor. Wouldn't you blame the Dark Side for every horrible deed he committed, believing desperately himself to be innocent and as respectable as you have known him for years?"

"There is a limit to everything!"

"Not for the being he was becoming: he was overwhelmed by a hunger he had felt since he woke up on Gensun, half a year ago. He was hungry for my blood, the sex had been a pure misinterpretation of his longing for my body." Qui-Gon drank his tea and frowned. "He explained it to me. The night at the healers, after I'd passed out in the lightsabre training.

The Councillors had given me a guard, a young Knight, and late after midnight I woke up from his snoring.

My Master stood in the doorway of my room. 'May I come in?' he asked.

'Yes, of course,' I said, pointing at the Knight. 'Did you do this?'

'Well, otherwise he would be neglecting his duty,' my Master smirked. He shielded the room with the Force and sat down on my bed.

'I'm sorry, Padawan,' he said, 'I'm so terribly sorry, but I lost control over my Dark Side last night.'

Little Gods, what to answer? I just nodded, then I asked how he had coped with the Council.

He sighed. 'If they didn't need us so badly for Corellia, I bet they'd have asked me to turn in my lightsabre,' he muttered. 'Then they handed me over to the healers again. After examination by lab and Force they told me it's your blood which fights back my body's decay. They don't know why, but it works. Some of them put it down to the blood donation you gave me on our way to Gensun, and some call it a miracle of the Living Force. Well, I'll never again complain about having a Padawan who is so in tune with the Living Force.'

I chuckled, and he took my hand and kissed it very tenderly. I felt like I had on Gensun - but the roles had changed.

'You taste so terrifically good, Padawan,' he said in desperation. 'All these months I have fought against myself, against the need to touch you, to taste your skin. I thought I'd become one of these dirty old men lusting for their apprentices' bodies... Well, in a way that's true, but they told me it's your blood my body is yearning for. Making love to you was just an awful mistake, please forgive me.'

'But that was the part I liked,' I pointed out cautiously.

'You're a good boy, Padawan.' He smiled, stroking my hand with his thumbs. He fell silent for a while, then he moaned. And across our training bond I felt this hunger again, his need.

'Just a little,' he whispered. 'Please.'

I stared at him. My Master was begging for my blood. I got dizzy with fear. It had hurt so much last night, and he had taken quite a quantity. He kissed my palm, nuzzled my wrist.

I can't tell if he would have accepted a no. I don't think so. But who was I to deny it, if it helped to keep him on the Light Side?

'Would it be all right if you got a needle and syringe or something like that to get it?' I asked, afraid of last night's pain.

He chuckled mirthlessly. 'I don't think there's a need for that,' he said with a lopsided grin, suddenly frowning and muttering a curse, covering his mouth with a hand.

'There's another thing changing within me,' he confessed sheepishly - a trait I'd never seen before in my Master. 'The dentists were quite impressed.'

'The dentists?' A species of healers I always had feared.

He nodded. 'Please don't laugh!' he begged. 'And please don't be afraid!'

I literally jumped when I saw the fangs.

'They're not always there,' he said, covering his mouth in embarrassment. 'They grow when I think of you, of last night...'

I found myself standing at the opposite wall of the room, shivering in shock.

He had fangs like the creature on Vlicor.

He waited patiently for me to return for a closer look. But it took quite a while until I dared. The fangs seemed to have shrunk in the meantime, and they grew to quite an impressive length and became needle sharp when I took my Master's hands.

'Nothing I'd wish for,' he said, his voice slurring a little as if they made speaking difficult. 'Always perforating my lower lip...'

I laughed. Force help me, but I laughed out loud, and he joined me after a moment, wiping blood from his lip.

'Quite a Master I am...' he groaned eventually. 'Force help me, what have I done!'

'Nothing!' I said, and I tried to explain to him that it was my failure, because I had cursed him, because I had agreed at all to go with Master Kayyan - but as he had done in front of the Council after our return from Gensun, he took responsibility for everything: 'Padawan, I know your talents: conjuring up monsters is none of them; this one was my own private demon!'"

"One question," Torga interrupted. "What did the Council say about the fact that he sold you to Master Kayyan, or don't they know?"

"They know by now, but at the time he hadn't contradict the report I sent the Council while he was still in bacta: that Master Kayyan invited me for a night out to see the midsummer parties. Full stop."

"How convenient for him!"

"Dammit, Torga! Don't you think he had been punished enough?! No wonder everyone calls you a Sithspawn!"

Quinlan chuckled. "But what happened with the fangs?"

Qui-Gon blinked to focus on the past. "After laughing our asses off in hysteria, I had faith enough to offer him a hand. A nip into the side of my hand and he sucked up my blood. Carefully, but frowning increasingly.

'You taste strange,' he said after a few moments.

'Must be all the IV solution I got today,' I said, first concerned about being not to his taste, then giggling again at the absurdity of the situation.

'Never mind.' He smiled and stroked my wrist, mapping the blood vessels. 'But we have to convince the healers to wait a few days with the blood donation they want from you to grow some cell cultures to infuse me. That's not the right stuff, that won't do. I need pure Jinn, not a diluted version.'

He didn't let go of my hand, returned to licking and suckling, and I, phew, I enjoyed it more than I should have done."

"Don't you tell me you found it... arousing?" Quinlan stared at his lover, taken aback.

Qui-Gon swallowed hard. "It was arousing. Force, Quin, please, don't look at me like that! Everybody does when they catch me saying his name in sleep or... believe me, I don't like being hurt, I swear! But with him everything was different. The wounds did not close when touched by his saliva until he decided to heal them. And it was more than arousing. Force help me, but him drinking my blood was the most intense feeling I can imagine. I don't know which drugs I'd have to consume to feel this sensitised again. And if you have to know: seeing him being so helpless and at a loss, I fell in love with him that night. I wasn't afraid of him anymore, and I didn't care whether he was Dark or not. Call it a spell, if you like, but I was a fairly willing participant!"

"I don't buy that!" Quinlan got to his feet, started to pace. The Padawan room was too small, so he strode into the living area.

"Oh, you too now? Regretting sleeping with the freak I am?" Qui-Gon sneered. "Don't you worry, Quin, it's not contagious!"

Knight Vos returned, seething, gulped some calming breaths and sat down on the floor in front of Qui-Gon: "I don't buy that!"

"You'd better." Qui-Gon rose, went to his data station and switched it on. "There's one more file I can show you. Also explains quite well what we did on Corellia to make Torga freak out. Even before Torga blew up our debriefing with the Council by accusing my Master of rape, bodily harm and mind whammies, the Temple security was after us by order of the Council. It's not that they carried on as if nothing had happened, like you supposed, Torga. The Council just took their time to gather evidence. And there's another file you might want to watch - my Master's farewell to the Council. Come over here, Quin, and have a seat, I'll be on the balcony for meditation... ah, Torga, turn down the volume, in the middle of the first file I get somewhat loud..."

Which that he left the room and the first holovid started.

Quinlan stood up, indifferent whether to watch or to follow Qui-Gon.

"Come here." Torga patted the mattress. "If he wants us to see it, we'd better do so or we get disqualified as ignorant in the next round of arguing."

"I don't want to see it, whatever it is..." Quinlan muttered, but the file had already started with the date/time header of the Temple security network.

"That's the night before the second lightsabre competition... and one week before our flight to Corellia," Torga commented.

Master Dooku and Padawan Jinn appeared in the mediation gardens, in Qui-Gon's favourite place. It was after midnight, but they had obviously come directly out of a sparring session. Qui-Gon carried his robe in his hand and was only in a light workout tunic. It was soaked with sweat and sliced with a lightsabre burn, as were his leggings. But Padawan Jinn showed the bright satisfaction he always radiated after a good fight. Master Dooku smiled, his gaze never leaving his Padawan's body. The Padawan strode down to the little pond, turned around and pointed invitingly at the water. "Please, Master..."

The Master sighed. "You don't get tired of that silly game, do you, Padawan?"

"It's not silly," the apprentice insisted. "Whether your reflection is visible or not is a quite good indicator of how Dark you are at the moment!"

Moaning in mock defeat, the Master went to his apprentice, bowed over the water. "There. Hardly visible."

"Darn. I take it you'll lecture me now on my slip at the end of the fifth form, Master?"

"You know quite well that your whole fifth form was useless today, Padawan," the Master growled, grinning, and grabbed his apprentice around the waist. "Receive your punishment!"

Qui-Gon yelped as he was thrown into the water. His Master jumped at him, straddled his Padawan's thighs.

Qui-Gon laughed, faking swimming movements while lying with his back on solid ground in only ankle-deep water. "Shouldn't we scan the garden first for any observers, Master?" His hands found his Master's knees, stroked upwards over wet fabric.

"Ah, Jinn, afraid the troll might find out that the 'poor youngling' is such a brazen one?" Master Dooku chuckled. "Or is your Ryban lover doing night shifts in meditation?"

"He isn't my lover, as you know quite well, Master." Qui-Gon massaged the elder man's thighs.

"No, not any more."

The Master bent down and his lips touched Qui-Gon's throat. His hands undid his Padawan's sash. His features relaxed in bliss when he pushed the tunic open. He exposed a bony chest, marked with an angry lightsabre burn.

Dooku licked down his apprentice's chest and stomach.

"I envy this thrice-damned cloth, you know," he mumbled, stripping Jinn's tunic. "It's soaking up all your sweat, always tasting your skin."

Qui-Gon laughed, sat up and snuggled at his Master: "You burned two nasty wounds into my oh so adored skin, Master. Would you mind taking care of them instead of having Dark feelings against my undergarments?"

"Of course." A chuckle, then a muttered curse.

"The lower lip again?"

"Uh-huh." Dooku bent down, carefully kissing his Padawan's nipples, nuzzling his chest.

The burn on Qui-Gon's ribs disappeared under a tender touch of hand and lips.

The Padawan sighed. His eyes closed, his hands kept stroking, and his hips started a slow rocking motion, sending rings of water around them.

Master Dooku smirked.

"Shhh, Jinn," he cooed, "you'll make the fish in this puddle get sea-sick." He undid the waistband of Qui-Gon's leggings, chuckled. "Always remember, my Padawan, the Healing Force is for healing purposes, not for sexual pleasure."

Qui-Gon sighed loudly, hips bucking, as his leggings were yanked down together with his underpants: "As you say, my Master."

"As I say and as you're happily oblivious of as always..." Master Dooku snarled in mocked irritation, stroking with a finger down the length of his Padawan's erection. "Nevertheless, your capacity for enthusiasm even in cold water is amazing..."

He pulled the trousers down to Qui-Gon's boots, had a look at the wound. "Bah, come on, Jinn, this one you can heal yourself!"

Qui-Gon grumbled, but sat up and tended to his wound. His Master knelt beside him, hands on knees as if in meditation.

But there must have been some dialogue via the training bond, because suddenly Qui-Gon looked up and said: "Please, Master, keep in mind the competition tomorrow!"

"Meaning?"

"Meaning, I'd appreciate not losing any blood tonight. I need it tomorrow."

His Master chuckled. "You won the competition last year, show-off. Isn't that enough?"

Qui-Gon shook his head. "I'd like to show them that I'm not weak. Everybody fusses over me... and it could make the rumours stop."

"Which rumours, Padawan?"

"That you're doing 'weird' things to me, that the healers will kill me by tapping all my blood, just to keep you on the Light Side, these rumours."

Master Dooku smiled. "But I am doing weird things to you..." He stretched out a hand, touched Qui-Gon's knee. The touch became a slow caress, sneaking up the inner side of Jinn's thigh, slow little circles, some with a sharp fingernail, some gentle with the tip. The Padawan breathed in with a hiss.

"And you like these weird things..."

"Yes, Master."

"You like these things even more than a good Padawan should." He bent to peck a kiss on Qui-Gon's knee and used the Force to get rid of his Padawan's boots and leggings. Gently pushing his Padawan's thighs apart, he settled between them. "You even like these things so much that you don't report me to the Council, as the Code demands." His kisses trailed upwards.

"I love you, Master!"

"Yes, you love me, Jinn. Though you should love the Order."

"I know, Master. But honestly, the Order doesn't make me feel... ah!" Qui-Gon's body tensed. "...this way!" His head sank back, when his Master buried his face into his Padawan's crotch.

In Qui-Gon's room, Quinlan closed his eyes and shook his head in denial.

Torga gazed in fascination at the vid, glad that he was lying on his belly, otherwise Knight Vos would have been much more embarrassed.

"Yes, please..." The Padawan's hips jerked upwards, his hands grabbed his Master's head, restrained into a stroking at the last moment before becoming bruising. He started to pant, to squirm, and Torga had problems not squirming, too.

The bite was deep and bled awfully. Qui-Gon convulsed and screamed, but was thrown on his back, and his Master swallowed the gush of blood pulsating out of a torn artery in the groin.

Qui-Gon's eyes were wide in pain and he panted desperately for air.

But then a strange peace settled on his features, and relaxing he closed his eyes, melted into his Master's hold.

"Force!" he breathed. "Oh, Force, yes please..." His fingers dug into the soil as if to find the support his Master would never provide any more.

Torga nudged Quinlan. "Look at this!"

And if Knight Vos liked it or not, the boy on the screen, the boy who was now his adult lover became hard again, stroked incidentally by his Master whose focus was on drinking the red liquid that pulsed out of his apprentice's body.

But there was another colour shining up from the ground where Qui-Gon lay. A faint green came up, fluorescent, wavering, spreading its light slowly around the younger man.

Master Dooku saw it, smiling in relief.

"Yes, my own," he cooed, "that's it."

"Please, Master, stop it!" the Padawan begged. "You know how weak I'll feel the next day if we go on with this, and tomorrow..."

His eyes flew open and he choked when an invisible fist closed around his throat, pressing down mercilessly.

"Don't you!" his Master hissed, his face torn in wrath, the fangs bared, his eyes shining like fire. "Don't you dare tell me about your thrice-damned competition!"

"No, Master, I won't!" Qui-Gon croaked - and was released. He coughed and gulped for air, covering his bruised throat with a hand.

The green light faded.

"No, Padawan!" There was a trace of panic in Master Dooku's order. "Bring it back!"

Qui-Gon shook his head, his face torn in pain. "The Living Force comes to me of its own volition, Master! You know it fades when I'm scared, and it's quite scary when your eyes get that... glow." He coughed again and pressed his hands on the wound. "Please, Master, I'm getting sick..."

Dooku muttered a curse. He pressed his fingers on the artery at the top of Qui-Gon's thigh, and the bleeding stopped immediately.

His Padawan sighed in relief.

For some time none of them moved or talked, their heavy breathing was the only indicator that the projection wasn't frozen.

Then the Master cursed, almost sobbing, and washed the blood from Qui-Gon's skin, carried him onto the lawn.

Both men sat there for some time, the Padawan drowsily snuggled up to his Master and wrapped in his robe, the Master staring into empty space, self-loathing written across his features.

There must have been again some conversation via the training bond. Qui-Gon raised his head, blinking as if waking up.

"But Master, please forgive me, but... all the injections the healers gave you, the blood cell cultures they're growing - I can't believe you still have no grasp of the Living Force at all."

"Ironic, isn't it?" Dooku hugged him. "There we are: a Master hovering between the Unifying Force and being a Dark Side beast, with a Padawan rooted in the Living Force, but unable to summon it. Nice pairing..."

Qui-Gon shakily reached for his Master's face. "Give me a second try."

Master Dooku kissed him. "No, Padawan. It has to be enough for the next few days. The old scumbag that I am just ruined your chance to show them a good performance tomorrow, there's no need to ruin your life too."

He rose and fetched Qui-Gon's robe, the only item of his clothing that was not soaked, and dressed his Padawan in that before picking up the rest. "Come up, my own."

Qui-Gon gazed at him in wonder and took the offered hands. He let his Master help him into his boots. Then he embraced him. He was not allowed to touch the lips. Dooku turned his head a little, frowning and feeling for his teeth, but Qui-Gon kissed his Master's cheek with a devotion that made Quinlan Vos groan with horror.

The file ended with the Master-Padawan pair leaving the garden, and the next file opened without any delay.

It showed a glaring Master Dooku, looking directly into the camera.

"Well, Yoda," he said, "you've won. Of course I know you'll call it cowardice, my Master, that I simply sneaked way. But if you were honest, you would have to admit that this 'hearing' concerning the accusations of Padawan Tel Halkere is no hearing at all, my expulsion from the Order already settled, the files already written. Don't ask how I learnt about it...

At any rate, I prefer to keep my lightsabre and not get brainwashed.

Convenient, isn't it, that I threw my future away just 'for having an inappropriate relationship' with my apprentice, don't you think?

It's always easier to give one the boot for child abuse than for a different conviction concerning our Order's role and politics - silences the political opponent at once by putting him among the criminals on the Most Wanted list.

Well, concerning my future: it's no concern of yours anymore. Concerning my Padawan: you'll find him sleeping under Force suggestion in our quarters. If I had taken him with me, I would have killed him one day soon. My hunger for him is too strong - in my darker moments I dream of him dying in my arms, me drinking his blood until his heart stops. Do me this as a last favour for your unruly Padawan, Master: find him another teacher, if possible someone with more patience than I had. He may not be a bright student, but he's a brave one. I bet none of my other Padawans would have had the guts to stay with a being like I became. My friends among the Masters didn't. Therefore my 'little revolt', as you put it, won't cause you any concern either.

That's all I have to say to you. May the Force be with you."

The image faded.

"Well," Torga pouted and scratched his cheek, "I would have expected a more dramatic exit by him, something like striding out of the Council Chamber with billowing robes, bristling with anger, cursing us all, but well..."

Quinlan Vos still stared in shock at the data station.

Tel Halkere clasped his shoulder. "Come on, wake up, Vos. There's someone on the balcony who's desperately waiting for some sympathetic words by you."

Quinlan flinched and scowled.

"Something like 'I love you nevertheless' would be fine, I wager." Torga rose from the bed, straightening his tunics. "The Masters wish to see us in half an hour, briefing room 4 at 56th level. See you there."

"And what about you? Don't you think you'll have to apologise to him, too?"

"I'll do. But later and as a friend and fellow knight for some minor misinterpretations. To tend to a broken heart is a lover's job, and that's unfortunately not me."

With that, he left.

Quinlan swallowed against the lump in his throat.

Run! his mind screamed, run!

He rose, went to the living area. Through the balcony doors he watched Qui-Gon kneel on the floor, head hung, shoulders slumped.

Quinlan gritted his teeth.

How to tell him?

Force, help me!

He went out on the balcony, knelt down beside Qui-Gon.

Even breathing became difficult.

He hung his head.

"I'm sorry, Qui-Gon."

- - the end - -