Disclaimers: George Lucas owns the characters. Not profit is
being made by the posting of this story.
Warnings: none
Rating: NC-17
Archive: yes to M_A archive and SWAL, and also at
www.jbx.com/~gila/sw.html
Feedback: Feedback of all types is welcomed at gila@jbx.com.
Long, short, good, bad, whatever. I can't promise to respond to
all feedback, but I'll make an attempt!
Summary: Qui-Gon is injured while on a mission, and Obi-Wan has
to try to help save him.
He was crouched behind a large outcropping of rocks that jutted
out of the hillside. Panting, he tried to catch his breath as
soundlessly as he could. The sound of mortar-fire was distant
enough from where he hid that he did not fear being struck; he
flinched at the explosions, but did not reach out with the
Force to deflect the distant shells.
Once more he felt for the packet he'd strapped to his belt,
double- and triple-checking that it was still there. No good to
get all the way back only to find he'd lost it somewhere. But
it still hung there.
Obi-Wan sighed. He wished he could have tucked it more safely
inside his tunic, but the heat from his body would have ruined
the sap of the Racia fern. He needed the sap very badly.
His Master needed it badly. Hit by one of the innocuously named
water-bombs, Qui-Gon had suffered massive burns mere seconds
after contact. The local healers had acted quickly as soon as
they'd seen what Obi-Wan was bringing them, but there was
little they could do while the town was under fire.
Supplies were short, and it was too dangerous to venture out
into the swamps for the fragile plant that would save Qui-Gon
the pain, the scarring, and the potential nerve-loss if the
contact spread too far. The war had everyone huddling in town
for safety; the shelling on the outlying areas and roads had
yet to be turned towards the buildings.
There hadn't really been any question, for Obi-Wan. He was a
trained Jedi, and, though a few years short of Knighthood, he
could certainly traverse two miles of hilly woods, enter a
black swamp to find a single plant, and return. The fact that
the entire area up to the swamp's edge would be under heavy
fire mattered little.
Qui-Gon needed this, and that was all Obi-Wan cared about. If
he couldn't protect himself with the Force and find his way
through the camps of soldiers and woody terrain, then what good
was any of his training?
Obi-Wan waited for another barrage of mortars to still, then
dashed out again. The pouch bounced against his hip as he ran.
The Force did not give him a Jedi's extra speed; he was using
all his concentration to form a shield around himself and guide
himself back to the little town.
He knew approximately where it was, but there were also enemy
forces patrolling the boundaries. He'd zig-zagged so much while
avoiding them, avoiding mortars, and getting around the hills,
that if he had been left to his own unassisted sense of
direction, he knew he'd still be back at the swamp.
He tripped and rolled down a short incline and scrambled to a
stop. His heart was pounding; another quick pat to verify the
pouch was there and he was on his feet once more.
Qui-Gon would be angry with him, he knew. His Master had gone
into a light trance as soon as he'd been able, confident that
eventually he would heal himself -- or be taken back to the
capital where the healers could work unimpeded.
But once Qui-Gon had slipped into the trance, Maya, the head
healer for the tiny town, had looked at Obi-Wan gravely.
"His wounds are severe, Jedi. His trance may delay the spread
of the injury, but the damage is already great. He may lose his
hands entirely, if we do not get help soon."
That was all Obi-Wan had needed to hear to make his decision.
Maya had been willing to tell him all she could, even finding a
picture to tear out of a book for him to take to use in
identifying the fern.
And now, with enough Racia to treat three times the injuries
Qui-Gon had suffered, Obi-Wan was nearly there. He could feel
it in the Force, the currents that told him a town was near:
concentrations of living things, of mechanical things, all
overlain by the dark stirring of warfare.
He would have to take down his shielding and use all his
concentration to sneak past the soldiers into town. It should
be easy. Just like a hundred other exercises he'd performed,
both in the Temple and at Qui-Gon's side.
Never quite like this. But Obi-Wan shook his head. Thinking
such things would not get him through to Qui-Gon. Do or
do not. Doubts would never help. He had to get this plant to
Qui-Gon. He didn't have a choice. He took a long, slow breath,
concentrated on the Force, then ran.
It was the Force that warned him in time to duck, curling his
body around the small pouch.
The explosion thundered in his head, pounding at him as the
mortar struck the ground. The shock waves ran through every
cell in his body, blasting into each one and tearing past,
leaving Obi-Wan lying, stunned, on the ground.
When he was able to raise his head, he saw a crater. If he
moved three more inches, he could fall in.
He swallowed.
His hand went first to the pouch. Still there. He hoped not
damaged, but he didn't have time to check further than peeking
in to see that the sap wasn't all leaking away. It wasn't.
Pushing himself to his knees, Obi-Wan felt his head ringing.
His back ached, and his left arm felt decidedly odd. He stood,
letting the Force flow through him and hold him upright.
He blinked and realised where he still was, then propelled
himself forward, out of the open. He moved with Force-enhanced
speed, no longer trying to avoid being seen by the enemy, who
had evidently already spotted him.
Obi-Wan could see the town ahead of him and aimed directly for
it. He soaked up the energy of the Force, letting it
practically carry him on. He recognised the buildings; he'd
returned to the same part of town he'd left. The same part of
town the tiny hospital was, where Qui-Gon would be waiting.
Determined, he ran.
Maya was surprised, but happy, to see him. She was on her way
out of the emergency treatment rooms; Obi-Wan held out the
pouch to her. She took it, eyes going wide, then took him by
the arm and led him inside.
He stumbled, then fell against a bed. As she helped him lie
down, he let the Force go, relaxing his concentration.
And discovered he hurt.
He opened his mouth, and the second wave of pain hit him. His
back, his arm, and his head all screamed. Maya said something,
and he felt a touch at his wrist. A pressure there, then
something more soothing flowed up his arm. As it filled him,
the pain receded. Soon he could hear Maya talking.
"I think you'll be fine, Jedi. Tori will tend to you now. Corin
has gone to tend to your Master. I will go and bring you back
word of his treatment." She looked down at him, frowning
slightly. "He will not be pleased if he wakes to find you
injured. So lie still and let Tori do his work."
Obi-Wan didn't try to nod. He watched as she left, then he felt
hands touching him gingerly. The touch roused brief flares of
pain, and he decided that there were better ways to wait out
the medical treatment. He closed his eyes and sought a trance.
Several hours later he opened his eyes and found his Master
standing beside him. Obi-Wan yawned and started to stretch --
and found himself rather efficiently bandaged.
Qui-Gon turned his head at the movement and looked down at him.
Obi-Wan blinked, then grinned. "You're healed! You're all
right?" He reached out with the Force to ensure it and found
his Master beside him, battered, weak, but well.
"Yes, Padawan. I am all right." Qui-Gon's voice was soothing,
soft with concern; it made Obi-Wan want to close his eyes and
just listen to him speak. But then he caught the undercurrent
of his Master's feelings. As he did, Qui-Gon frowned.
Obi-Wan tried not to squirm.
"Obi-Wan, there was no reason for you to go out there."
"You were hurt!" Obi-Wan protested, interrupting.
"My life was not in danger, Padawan. There was no need for you
to risk yours." Qui-Gon was still frowning, only slightly, but
it was more than Obi-Wan usually ever saw when he had done
something wrong.
Obi-Wan started to sit up and felt dizzy. Qui-Gon caught his
arm and pushed him gently back down onto the bed. But he didn't
stop frowning.
"Master, I--" Obi-Wan began.
"It was not necessary, Padawan. I expect you to never do it
again."
Obi-Wan gaped at him in surprise. He could feel the anger in
his Master, now. Though Qui-Gon was trying to control it, it
was there, roiling inside him. Obi-Wan pulled away from it as
if stung. He swallowed, and tried to respond calmly. "I was
told you wouldn't fully recover without the Racia."
"You were told I might lose my hands." With Qui-Gon looming
over him this way, Obi-Wan felt the urge to dig himself
underneath the blankets to hide. He controlled it, however,
knowing he had no choice but to face his Master's reprimand.
"Is that not correct, Padawan?"
It took him a moment to get the words to answer. "Yes, Master."
"My life was not in danger. No lives were in danger. There was
insufficient reason to risk your own."
Obi-Wan couldn't nod, though he knew he was expected to say
that he understood.
"Padawan?" his Master prompted after a moment.
Obi-Wan looked up. "But your hands! If you lost them, you
wouldn't be a Jedi any longer!"
"That is not true," Qui-Gon corrected him sternly, but with
that little bit of the gentleness that was always in his
Master's voice. "I would still be a Jedi, even without use of
my hands."
"But you'd have to go back to the Temple. You couldn't be my
Master, you'd be assigned a teacher or something...." Obi-Wan
realised he was beginning to lose control, and he stopped,
tried again. "I... I was...." As he tried to calm down, he
realised what had happened, what he had actually done. Shakily,
he faced it and told his Master. "I was afraid, Master. And I
let my fear guide my decision."
Qui-Gon regarded him intently for a moment; Obi-Wan let his
Master feel the truth in his words, as he'd only just realised
it, himself. Qui-Gon nodded. "Next time you must control your
fear."
Obi-Wan grabbed Qui-Gon's hand. His words died, though, and his
Master looked at him in mild surprise. "What were you so afraid
of, Obi-Wan?"
The reprimand was long gone; now there was only the concern.
Obi-Wan tried to answer. "Of losing you, Master. I'm sorry. I
didn't think past losing you."
Qui-Gon moved to sit beside Obi-Wan's bed, not removing his
hand from Obi-Wan's grip. "You would not have lost me, Padawan.
I would still be around, even if just chasing after five
year-olds at the Temple."
Obi-Wan swallowed. "Not even that much, Master." He turned away
and let go of Qui-Gon's hand. The fear was still pounding at
him, whispering to him things he didn't want to hear.
"Obi-Wan, in a few years you will be losing me that much
anyway. When you become a Knight."
Obi-Wan didn't reply. He didn't want to think about it. 'Live
in the present moment,' he was always being told. It was
difficult for him sometimes, but for this -- he could ignore
that future, waiting for him.
"Obi-Wan?"
He looked back. "I don't want to." The words were remarkably
easy to say.
Qui-Gon looked startled. "What? You don't want to become a
Knight--"
"I don't want to leave you." Obi-Wan struggled to sit
up; this time Qui-Gon helped him and held him as he fought off
the dizziness. "I love you."
Qui-Gon looked at him. "Obi-Wan...."
Instead of explaining his unexpected words, Obi-Wan let his
Master feel what it was he meant. Let him feel the extent of
the love, the depth of it, the very nature of the love he had
kept private for as long as he'd felt it.
Qui-Gon was staring at him, eyes wide, hands holding Obi-Wan's
tightly. Obi-Wan had never intended to show him this. Not yet,
not while their Master/Apprentice relationship needed to remain
foremost. He wasn't sure why he'd done it now, unless it was
simply the shook if his Master's displeasure. But he calmly
waited for some reaction. Qui-Gon was still looking at him in
amazement.
"Master?" he finally asked.
Qui-Gon raised his hand, caressed his face once, leant forward,
and kissed him. Obi-Wan didn't move a muscle.
Maybe he'd hit his head harder than he'd thought.
Qui-Gon broke the kiss, and Obi-Wan could see him smiling. He
could feel it, as well, smiles and delight and a dozen other
things rolling off his Master and into him.
He tried to ask an intelligent question and only said, "Uh?"
Qui-Gon grinned. "Yes, Obi-Wan. A thousand questions. For us
both. But not now. You need rest, as do I. We are both still
healing, and I need you strong and well again."
"Er?" His voice rose slightly as he felt the emotions attached
to those words.
Qui-Gon smiled at him and laid him back on the hospital bed.
Obi-Wan was staring, unable to form any more coherency than
he'd already shown. Then his Master lay down as well, sideways
on the edge of the bed, and wrapped his arm around Obi-Wan.
Obi-Wan lay motionless for all of three seconds. Then, with a
sigh, he closed his eyes and snuggled in. Later, his Master had
said. They'd discuss it later.
He fell asleep.
Obi-Wan woke more slowly than he had the first time. There was
no pain, no disorientation, and no fleeting panic when he
realised who was still holding onto him. He snuggled closer,
smiling, and felt two arms hug him tightly. He raised his head,
but before he opened his eyes he was kissed again.
He wriggled happily, brain still asleep enough not to care
about the questions and disbeliefs. He opened his eyes as the
kiss ended and smiled at his Master's face hanging inches away
from his own, smiling down at him. Obi-Wan tilted his head
upwards in mute request; Qui-Gon laughed once, then complied,
resuming the kiss once more.
Obi-Wan made no attempt to move, other than to stretch his body
slowly along the length of his Master's, curled against him. He
felt Qui-Gon's hand on his side, moving down, then back up,
catching the fabric of his tunic and raising it.
Obi-Wan shivered. It occurred to him that they were in the
middle of a public ward in a hospital; he opened his eyes and
saw four walls close around them.
"A private room, Obi-Wan," his Master told him. "Early this
morning."
Obi-Wan nodded. Satisfied with the information, he returned to
his Master's mouth. Kissing it, he brought his hands up --
discovering one arm in a cast, which he could only move partway
to his goal. He left it lower, resting his fingers on Qui-Gon's
arm, and raised the other to his Master's face.
Qui-Gon moved to kiss his jaw, trailing soft kisses down to his
neck. Obi-Wan shivered again, felt dizzy and disregarded it as
irrelevant. Qui-Gon brushed his hand across Obi-Wan's stomach,
raising himself up slightly, watching as Obi-Wan gasped.
Obi-Wan let his hand fall and tried to move his tunic out of
the way. It was difficult, and he found thick bandages wrapped
around his middle just above his Master's hand. But Qui-Gon
helped him ease the clothing out of the way, and Obi-Wan lay
back down.
"Touch me," he asked, and Qui-Gon's eyes went slightly darker
at the request.
He traced the lines of Obi-Wan's stomach, back and forth in a
slow motion. Obi-Wan watched as Qui-Gon lowered his head to
watch his own hand; Obi-Wan shivered as that hand moved.
His legs fell open as the hand moved lower; he whimpered as
Qui-Gon skirted the soft erection there and tried to move his
hips back towards Qui-Gon's hand.
He heard his Master laugh again and grinned. "Well, touch me,
then!" he demanded.
Qui-Gon kissed his chest, right above the bandages, and said,
"Patience, Obi-Wan."
Obi-Wan whimpered again. "I don't want patience. I want
you."
Qui-Gon moved swiftly back up to kiss him. Obi-Wan pressed
himself against his Master's body; reaching down and grabbing
at the edges of Qui-Gon's tunic, he tried to pull on it without
moving away.
Qui-Gon helped him again, leaning back just enough to pull the
tunic free and throw it to the floor. Then Obi-Wan pulled him
close and tried to feel everything at once. His Master's hands
were on his back and his side; large and warm, they were long
familiar. His mouth on Obi-Wan's neck -- a touch he had never
felt 'til today. Qui-Gon's chest and stomach pressed down upon
his, the skin like electric fire igniting his own.
His legs, long and muscular, entangled in his, holding him
still. His erection, hard, already weeping, pressed against his
own hardening cock. Obi-Wan moaned and tried to bring him in
closer.
Qui-Gon responded immediately, pushing himself down and rubbing
himself against Obi-Wan. His Master continued to kiss him,
stroking Obi-Wan's back and tugging his leg into position.
What little thought Obi-Wan had had fled, and he opened himself
as fully as he could to the man lying above him. He heard a
groan from his Master and felt a rush of emotion. For a moment
it clouded the physical sensations, and his body was lost in a
sea of love and arousal not entirely his own.
Then something pressed against him, and he found himself once
more moving with his lover. He cried out softly and wrapped a
leg around Qui-Gon's, lifting his hips so he could feel more of
the body rubbing against him.
Qui-Gon moved as well, thrusting upwards and pausing; Obi-Wan
moved in that pause and tried to match the power he felt in his
Master's movements. He tried to hang on as well, tried to find
a place for his hands and a place for his mouth when Qui-Gon
moved his own away. He couldn't keep track of it all, couldn't
respond the way he wanted to and still let himself feel what
was being done.
"Lie still," Qui-Gon whispered in his ear, and he did so,
letting his arms and legs fall.
His Master continued the rhythm, moving his body slowly,
achingly, along Obi-Wan's, touching him once with his hands,
once with his tongue, once with his cock, and then with all
three. Obi-Wan cried out and grabbed onto him, feeling his body
shaking. Then he was losing all control, and only the weight of
his Master's body held him down.
When he opened his eyes, he grinned. Qui-Gon kissed him, then
smiled back.
"Later?" Obi-Wan asked, remembering those hundred questions
they still had.
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