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The Finer Shades of Why, Part 4

by Kalujinn and The Rose (kalujinn@earthlink.net and rosarocaminis@yahoo.com)

Obi-Wan raced up the dimly lit stone staircase. His lungs were burning, struggling to draw in oxygen, his legs trembling and about to give out, but he pushed himself on. He ran out of stairs finally, coming to a stop in an empty, stone walled room. It was cold and drafty, a chill breeze blowing in through the arched doorway that was set into the wall to his left and led onto large balcony. Shakily, he made his way outside and looked over the edge. Fuck, he thought. It's a long way down.

He sat down on the stone balustrade, content for a moment to merely watch the steady pattern of vehicles that streamed past. He steeled his resolve and swung one leg over the edge. A few chunks of dried mortar dislodged and tumbled downward. He watched in fascination as they disappeared from sight. Perfect, he thought, even as he shivered from the night air. He sighed, wondering what that fall would feel like, how much it would hurt when he finally hit the permacrete walkways so very far below.

What a fitting end, Kenobi. he told himself. To wind up nothing more than a grizzly puddle at the base of the Jedi's precious Temple.

He swung his other leg over, feeling the cold hard stone press against the back of his thighs. This was it, then; the end of his miserable life.

Anakin buzzed around the common room, his favorite model starfighter in hand. With the appropriate sound effects, he tumbled the craft through several intricate maneuvers, the sound of laser cannons firing in succession tumbling from his lips. Qui-Gon, long used to his Padawan's playful ways, focused his attention on the tome of Trikadean poetry. A moment later, the sound of shattering plastic startled him.

The boy stood frozen in place, his ruined toy at his feet, a dazed look upon his face. His eyes widened in horror as he whispered, "Obi-Wan!"

"Anakin?" Qui-Gon frowned, his eyebrows drawn together. "What is it?"

"I think he's going to jump," he replied, his voice trembling. "Master, you've got to do something!"

"Obi-Wan's in bed," the Jedi Master assured him gently.

He shook his head, his face turning pale. "He left while you were taking a shower. He said he wanted some time to himself."

Qui-Gon dropped his datapad and pushed himself out of his chair. He crouched before the boy, his large hands wrapping around the Anakin's upper arms. "Where is he?"

"A balcony," Anakin said, his eyes narrowing as he explored the vision. "Facing the sunset."

"More," Qui-Gon prompted, fighting the urge to shake the boy in an attempt to get details.

"Draigons," he told the Jedi Master. "The one with draigons carved into the stone."

"Wait here!" Qui-Gon tossed over his shoulder as he fled through the doorway. The corridors of the Jedi Temple had never seemed so endless or so crowded as they did in the few minutes it took him to get to the lift. He slowed as he approached the doorway to the balcony Anakin had described. Just as the boy had foreseen, he found Obi-Wan there. The young man was seated on the railing, his feet dangling in the air as he contemplated the ground far below.

"Do you think you feel it?" Obi-Wan asked conversationally, as though he had been expecting the older man's arrival.

"Feel what?" Qui-Gon prompted softly, moving slowly toward him.

"The pain. In the moment between when you hit the ground and when you die? Do you suppose it happens too quickly to notice? Or is it a lifetime in and of itself?" His voice sounded detached, remote.

"I don't know," Qui-Gon answered. "Come away from there, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan shook his head. "No. Leave me alone. This is for the best."

"What is?" Qui-Gon asked, moving into the room, heading slowly for the balcony. "What is your intention?"

"What the fuck do you think is my intention?" Obi-Wan screamed at him. "I don't belong here! I never did!" He clutched at his head as if he were in pain. "You want to remove my collar, force me to become a Jedi again. There's no place to hide! This is the only answer."

"No, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said, keeping his voice soft as he continued moving closer. "No one will force you."

"That's a lie!" Obi-Wan screamed. He half turned on the ledge, slipping and nearly falling, and Qui-Gon froze in place as he struggled to regain his balance. He held out his hand. "Please. Come back inside. I will not let you take your life, Obi-Wan," he said. "Not now, not like this."

"You can't stop me!" Obi-Wan snapped.

"Yes, I can. I'm a Jedi Master, with the Force at my command."

"Don't start with that Force crap again! I don't believe in it, and I don't believe you! You just want to catch me and hand me over to the Council!"

"No, Obi-Wan."

"Stop right there!" the former slave shouted. "If you come one step closer, I'll jump."

"No, you won't." Qui-Gon held out one hand, the fingers tracing a slow arc in the air as he added a strong Force suggestion to his words. "Come back inside, Obi-Wan. All will be well, I promise you."

Obi-Wan shook his head frantically, as though trying to fight off the impulse. "No." And he pushed himself off.

Free fall, the wind rushing past his ears, cold air buffeting him, then a sudden stop that nearly broke his neck. What the fuck? Obi-Wan opened his eyes, not aware that he'd closed them, to find himself suspended in mid air, turning slowly like some crippled glider. Terror clutched at his heart, freezing his breath in his lungs.

"Be calm," Jinn's voice reached him. "Stay still and everything will be fine."

Again that compulsion, demanding his compliance, and he felt himself moving, upward, back toward the balcony. It was impossible! He twisted, terrified, flailing his arms and legs, and felt himself slip and fall another meter or so.

"No!" Jinn shouted, his tone commanding now. "Be still! Don't make this more difficult than it already is."

"How -" Obi-Wan closed his eyes again, dizziness making his stomach churn. "How are you doing this?"

"Relax," the Jedi Master told him, offering no information. "Just relax and trust me."

He was moving again, slowly, as invisible, unfelt hands lifted him back toward the balcony. Real hands latched onto him a moment later, large, strong fingers that locked around his biceps. They pulled him back over the railing and drew him tightly against a tree-trunk body. He cursed out loud when he realized he was clinging to Jinn like an anchor. Angrily, he shoved himself away.

"Leave me alone!" he shouted, turning toward the railing again. If he just jumped, and jumped hard, it would be over quickly and Jinn couldn't catch him again. He had to do this. He had to -

The unseen hands caught him before he could reach the edge. They propelled him backwards, slammed him against the wall next to the doorway. His body lit up with pain as his spine connected with the hard stone. He tried to shove himself away, but an invisible force pressed against his chest and prevented it.

An invisible force . . .

He shot a frantic glance at Jinn. The Jedi was white-faced with tension, but he was still standing where he had been, near the ledge. One hand was outstretched, palm towards Obi-Wan, fingers slightly splayed.

"Force," Obi-Wan gasped, barely able to believe what he was seeing - and feeling. "You're using the Force on me."

Jinn nodded slowly.

"It's real!" Obi-Wan was fighting tears now, feeling them stream down his face despite his resolve to stop them, trembling and shivering in the strong, immovable grip. "All this time, I thought it was a lie. A delusion." He brought up his hands, surprised to find that he could, and buried his face in them. "All this time . . ."

"It's all right, Obi-Wan," Jinn said, his voice getting slightly louder as he slowly approached. "It's all right."

"No! It'll never be all right!" Obi-Wan shouted, recalling his first owner, that kindly man who had fed him and cared for him and needed him so much. He struggled harder against the Force's hold, then surrendered and sank to his knees in despair. "He lied to me. He told me it was an illness, that he'd cured me, that I owed him my life, my loyalty, my body." The pressure on his chest eased, and he curled forward, his face between his knees, both hands clenching convulsively. "He lied."

There were hands then, real hands, gentle and strong, bracing his shoulders, their warmth welcome in the cold night air. "Yes, Obi-Wan, he lied," Jinn said softly. "I'm so sorry."

"I never belonged anywhere, did I?" he asked as he looked up, though he couldn't see well for the tears. "Not to him, not to the Jedi. I never will belong." He buried his face in his hands. "You should have let me kill myself," he moaned. "It would have been better that way."

"No, Obi-Wan. Suicide is never the answer. And, we will find a place for you."

"No more lies!" Obi-Wan screamed. He surged forward, trying to bowl the Jedi over, needing this to be over. The hands prevented his escape, flipping him and dropping him hard onto the stone floor. The air whooshed out of his lungs even as he began to struggle in earnest. A weight much greater than his own landed on him, pinning him helplessly.

"You never wanted me! You still don't want me!" he shouted, struggling. He tried to throw a punch, but his wrists were quickly pinned, tried to kick, until a muscled thigh insinuated itself between his legs.

"That's not true," Jinn said, his breath hot against Obi-Wan's face. "I wanted you."

"No!" Obi-Wan arched up, struggling for leverage. "No, you didn't!"

Rough fingers caught at his hair, twisting it and locking his head in place. Impossibly blue eyes loomed over him that caught his gaze and held it as firmly as his body was being held.

"I wanted you," the Jedi said again, stressing each word. "Do you hear me? I wanted you, but I was afraid."

"I thought Jedi were never afraid!" Obi-Wan spat back at him.

Jinn shook his head as if Obi-Wan's anger were of no consequence. "I wanted you," he repeated. His gaze moved from Obi-Wan's eyes to his lips, then back. "I want you."

A flush of heat spread throughout Obi-Wan's body, starting where the solid weight of Jinn's thigh pressed against his crotch and ending in his pinned wrists. He watched in amazement as the Jedi slowly lowered his head. He was frozen, held more tightly by his own disbelief than by the Master's power. Soft lips brushed his own, tantalizingly light, and his cock swelled against the fabric constraining it.

"I want you," Jinn whispered, touching their lips together again, so softly.

Obi-Wan closed his eyes as the tip of the Jedi's tongue swept across his lower lip, the contact momentary and electrifying. He opened his mouth, willing himself not to think, just to feel. And, oh, how much there was to feel as Jinn closed the distance, capturing his mouth and claiming it. They kissed hungrily until they were both breathless. The fist in his hair gentled, and fingertips caressed his scalp, soothing away any lingering pain.

"I want to make love to you," Jinn said, his bearded chin tickling Obi-Wan's cheek. "Let me make love to you, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan gasped through his arousal. "Yes!'

The Jedi's large hands caressed his face, wiping away all traces of the tears, one blunt thumb sweeping across his lips possessively. "Want you," Jinn whispered, his breath cool on Obi-Wan's flushed skin. He lowered his head until his mouth was against Obi-Wan's neck, tasting the skin there.

The young man arched up into the touch, turning his head to the side to give Jinn better access. There was a moment of warm wetness as a tongue stroked soothingly across his skin. "Want you," the Jedi whispered again, so close to Obi-Wan's ear that it sent shivers of anticipation through him.

The tongue traced the curve of his ear, dipping briefly inside, as one of Jinn's large hands dropped to stroke Obi-Wan's erection through the straining fabric.

"Yes!" the young man gasped, thrusting upward into the touch. He began to pant as blunt fingers untied the lacings and his engorged cock sprang free, then gasped again as he was enclosed in a tight, hot grip. "Please," he heard himself pleading. "Please!"

The Jedi Master grinned as his hand began to move, his grip firm and steady. Small groans issued forth from Obi-Wan's throat as he lifted his hips, moving hungrily in Jinn's grasp. The older man leaned down to capture his mouth anew. The taste of him set Obi-Wan's blood afire. He tangled his fingers in Jinn's long hair as he gave himself over to his touch. Only the need for air broke them apart.

The man slowed his rhythm, drawing out the torturous pleasure. His thumb harvested the rich secretion from the tip of Obi-Wan's cock and carried it to his mouth. Obi-Wan groaned at the sight of Jinn tasting him, licking the pearly drops from the pad of his thumb. The young man grabbed his hand and returned it to his hard cock, wrapping his fingers around Jinn's hand and guiding him up and down his length.

Obi-Wan felt as if his entire being was focused in that rigid column of flesh. He felt his scrotum tightening as his pleasure built rapidly. Heat sizzled through Obi-Wan's body as he came. It was the most intense orgasm of his life, and the first entirely consensual one. His world faded around the edges as he poured his lust out through his cock. Gradually, he became aware of a soft chuckling from above him. Instantly, his long-standing anger returned, though he was too sated to do more than glare.

"Are you making fun of me?" he asked, his voice little more than a breathless whisper.

"No, my Obi-Wan," Jinn said, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "I just had not imagined you'd be quite so responsive."

Obi-Wan grinned in spite of himself, then sobered as Jinn sat back up. The older man leaned back on one hand, the other adjusting himself in the tight confines of his leggings. He was still quite hard, his own desire having gone unsatisfied.

Obi-Wan sat up and reached for the Jedi's laces, intent upon returning the favor. He was surprised when Jinn's hand intercepted his own. He looked up into those impossibly blue eyes.

"You don't have to do this." The Jedi's voice was gentle and soft as his thumb began to circle in Obi-Wan's palm.

"But, I -"

"Obi-Wan?"

Both men started at the unexpected voice behind them, scrambling to their feet. Obi-Wan hurriedly tied the lacing of his leggings while Jinn wiped off his hands. Then, they turned to face their surprise guest.

Obi-Wan's jaw dropped open. "Maligo!" he exclaimed, pleased to see his friend again but totally confused. "What are you doing on Coruscant?"

Jinn was looking at him oddly. "I didn't know you two knew each other," he said.

Obi-Wan didn't answer, for he was grappling with the unexpected appearance of his friend the gardener, now clad in the attire of a Jedi. A hot flush of anger washed over him as he realized he had been betrayed. "You know him, too?" he managed to grate out.

Jinn looked truly puzzled by his reaction. "Of course I do. This is Master Maligo Sifo-Dyas, from the Temple on Devinnar 3. He is the curator of the archive I was sent to study. Lee's an old friend."

For a moment, Obi-Wan forgot to breathe. "Master Sifo-Dyas?" he asked finally, stricken. He reeled as dark thoughts, freshly remembered, began to swirl through his head again. Lying! He's been lying, all this time. But, of course he has. He's a Jedi. All they do is lie.

Obi-Wan glared up at Jinn. "Did you see him on Devinnar 3?" he demanded.

"Of course," Jinn said.

Obi-Wan whirled to face the old man. "Damn you, Maligo! You told him everything I said, didn't you?"

Maligo held up one hand placatingly, "Obi-Wan -"

"I trusted you!" Obi-Wan shouted. "I thought we understood each other!"

"We did-" He tried to soothe the young man's anger.

"Shut the fuck up!" Obi-Wan saw Jinn reach out to touch his shoulder. He flinched away from the taller man. "Don't you dare touch me, you Sith-spawn bastard."

"Our discussions were private, Obi-Wan," Maligo reassured him. "I have not shared them with anyone."

Obi-Wan began pacing the confines of the balcony. He frowned at Jinn when he saw the Jedi move toward the balcony's railing, ready to intercept him should he make another dive.

"Lee told me nothing," the tall man reiterated. "I give you my word."

Obi-Wan laughed harshly, sneering at Jinn. "Your word means nothing, old man. You're just a damned lying Jedi."

"That's not true."

"Oh, yeah?" Obi-Wan challenged him. "You said no one would remove my collar unless I decided I wanted it off."

When the Jedi nodded, a confused look on his face, Obi-Wan continued. "I heard you, Jinn! On the comm with the Healer. 'Go ahead and set up the appointment. I'll have him there,' you said." Obi-Wan noted with some satisfaction the look of surprise, then dismay, that crossed Jinn's face.

"You heard me scheduling a physical for you," the tall man tried to explain.

"I - don't - believe you," Obi-Wan said firmly.

Jinn visibly winced, then turned away. He leaned over and wrapped his large hands around the balcony railing. At last, he said quietly, "I don't know how I can convince you, but I have never lied to you."

Obi-Wan took a deep breath, trying to compose himself, and straightened his spine. "You told me I'm a free man," he said resolutely.

Jinn's head dropped for a moment, then he turned to face Obi-Wan. "That's true," he said. "You've been free since I purchased you on Retep."

"So, if I decide to just walk out of here, leave the Temple, no one's going to stop me?" Obi-Wan asked. He noted with quiet satisfaction the look of distress that crossed Jinn's face.

The tall man stepped closer, shaking his head. "I can't let you do that. The Sith is still out there."

Obi-Wan backed away from him. "I think that's just another one of your lies. I haven't heard the voice since that one time on the ship."

"That's because I've been shielding you," Jinn explained insistently.

Obi-Wan stared deeply into his dark blue eyes, trying to discern the truth. Finally, he looked down at his feet. "I don't believe you, Jinn."

"Please, can't we -" the older man began again.

"Enough!" Obi-Wan growled and headed for the door.

"Where are you going?" Maligo asked him anxiously.

"Away from here," he replied, annoyed at the quiver in his voice. "Away from him!"

Maligo followed. "Obi-Wan, wait!"

"Fuck off, Maligo," he shouted over his shoulder. "Leave me alone!"

The old man didn't slow down. "Let me help you."

The former slave whirled. "Help me? What the fuck makes you think I need your help, or want it?"

"You'll need money." The old man pulled some credits from his belt patch and folded them into Obi-Wan's hand.

Obi-Wan set his jaw. He stared at the credits, then tucked them into his belt. Without another word, he turned his back on the old man he'd thought was a friend.

"Go with the Force," Maligo called after him.

"Fuck the Force." Turning on his heel, Obi-Wan left the Temple for what he hoped was his last time.

Maligo turned to where Qui-Gon still leaned against the railing, his eyes closed, his Force presence radiating misery. He stepped close, sending waves of comfort.

"Perhaps this is for the best," he said softly.

Qui-Gon looked up. "How can you say that? He's so alone, so vulnerable. Anything could happen to him!"

"My friend, you've got to realize that Obi-Wan may never win free of his past. He carries many scars, and not just physical ones."

"I should have stopped him," Qui-Gon said.

"You couldn't have, short of locking him up," Maligo reminded him.

"If he'd just agree to have that collar removed ---"

Maligo shook his head. "That may never happen. It's a safety net to him, protecting him from things he'd rather not remember, things he'd rather not know."

Qui-Gon drew a long, deep breath and straightened, trying to put his worry for Obi-Wan out of his mind. "What are you doing here, anyway, Lee?" he asked.

The old man shrugged. "A mission for the Council. They seem to think I'm the best qualified."

"What kind of mission?"

"The secret kind," Maligo said with a crafty smile. Then he sobered and laid a hand on Qui-Gon's shoulder. "I'll only be gone a few weeks, if that. I'd like to come see you when I get back, if it's okay, before I head home. Make sure you're all right."

Qui-Gon nodded and offered his old friend a slight smile. "Of course, Lee. I'm always happy to see you."

With a final pat to the bearded man's shoulder, Maligo left him alone.

After Obi-Wan's angry departure from the Temple, Qui-Gon tried to settle into the routine of training his Padawan. The sparring sessions and one-to-one tutoring periods spent with Anakin helped to distract him. But his long meditations no longer served as a mental sanctuary, for Obi-Wan dominated his thoughts.

Part of him clung to the belief that the young man would come to his senses, would change his mind and agree to have the collar removed. Or at least that he'd return to the Temple. But, as the weeks passed without a word, even that hope had died.

"Master?" Anakin said one evening, pausing from the datapad he was studying to look up into his Master's face. "You miss Obi-Wan, don't you?"

The question caught Qui-Gon off guard, striking like a blow from a hammer. "Yes, Padawan. I do."

"Do you know where he is?" the boy inquired.

Qui-Gon took a deep breath. "No."

"Why don't you find him, then, and bring him home?"

The Jedi Master shook his head. "It's not that simple, Anakin," he said. "If he doesn't want to be here, I can't force him."

Anakin nodded thoughtfully, then his blue eyes pegged Qui-Gon's again. "But, you could at least be sure he's all right."

Qui-Gon looked out the window and pondered that as Anakin turned back to his studies. Yes, he thought. I could at least find out if he's all right.

Maul knelt before his Master.

"Have you located Kenobi yet?" Darth Sidious asked.

"No, my Master. I have put out inquiries, but so far, none have produced results."

"I see." Sidious walked to the window and looked out at the lines of traffic streaming past. "That's one of the problems with living on a world as populace as Coruscant. It makes it difficult to track a specific being, doesn't it? Even for me."

"Yes, my Master."

Sidious turned, his expression deceptively pleasant. "But, you will find him. Watch Jinn closely. Follow him if he leaves the Temple. Eventually, he will lead you to Kenobi." His eyes flashed. "I have foreseen it."

"There's someone here to see you, Dex," the waitress droid announced as she rolled past the tall Jedi.

Dex stuck his head around the corner, and his face broke into a huge grin. "Qui-Gon! Oh, boy, it's good to see you! Find yourself a table. I'll be right out."

Qui-Gon slipped into a booth and waited, letting his gaze scan the crowded diner. At the bar, a handsome young man dressed in a cream-colored silk shirt and skin-tight black pants was leaning sideways in his seat, clearly flirting with the older woman beside him. Although there was no physical resemblance, he reminded Qui-Gon of Obi-Wan, and a stab of guilt made the Jedi wince.

Is this what Obi-Wan is doing at the moment? he wondered. Trying to pick up a few dollars by offering his body to a stranger? He wasn't allowed to speculate for long, as Dex approached and wedged his large frame into the seat opposite him.

"It's been too long, Qui-Gon, since I've seen you!" the Besalisk said, his eyes twinkling merrily. "Just come by for a visit, did you?"

"I wish that I could say yes, my friend, but I'm afraid I here on important business." Qui-Gon leaned forward on his elbows. "I'm looking for someone. A young man."

The twinkle in Dex's eyes deepened. "Oh? Just any young man? Or one in particular?"

Qui-Gon laughed. "One in particular," he said. "His name is Obi-Wan Kenobi. He was an Initiate at the Temple when he was a boy. Now, he's -" He broke off, and watched as Dex narrowed his eyes.

"Now, what?"

Qui-Gon took a deep breath and steeled himself. "Now, he's a pleasure worker. He's fairly new to Coruscant - only been here a few weeks."

Dex ducked his head and lowered his voice, though it was still loud enough to reach any ear within ten meters. "And just what does a Jedi Master want with a pleasure worker, hm?" he inquired, nearly shaking with suppressed humor.

But, Qui-Gon didn't share his amusement. "I - just need to make sure he's okay. See if there's anything he needs, or . . ."

Immediately, Dex sobered. "So, it's not a roll in the hay that you're after?" He grinned when Qui-Gon blushed. "Or, that's not all you're after, at least. So, what does this young man look like?"

Qui-Gon described Obi-Wan as best he could, right down to the collar he was wearing and Dex stroked his chin with one large palm as he thought.

"Yes, I seem to remember seeing someone who looked like that," he said finally. "Pretty young man, if I do say so myself." His grin returned for a moment, then faded again. "Try down on Frontier Street, seven levels down. There's a bar there, called the Supernova. You might find your boy there." He leaned in a bit closer, his pungent breath washing over the Jedi's face. "But tell me, since you so obviously care about him, how is it that you let him out of your sight, what with him wearing that Force-inhibitor and all?"

Qui-Gon sighed. "That is a very long story, which I'm afraid will have to wait for another time." He got to his feet as Dex did the same. "Thank you for your help."

"You're welcome," the Besalisk said. "Always ready to help a Jedi, you know."

Qui-Gon smiled. "You're a good friend, Dex," he said. He gave a half bow, then headed for the door. Dex's voice caught him before he reached it.

"Good luck. And, try to hold on to your young man this time, will you?"

He found the bar, just where Dex had said it would be. The rather extravagant looking exterior faded, however as he stepped through the front door. Inside, it was dark and dingy and hazy with smoke.

The raw, driving beat of the music pulsed in his chest as he surveyed the crowd. There, along the wall, stood a young man. He was dressed in a black sleeveless shirt and tight leather pants. Around his neck, he wore a collar. A Force-inhibiting collar. Qui-Gon's efforts had paid off. He had finally found Obi-Wan.

The Jedi Master threaded his way through the masses of people, his focus intent upon the young man, noting the changes that the weeks had brought to his form. He was not nearly so thin as he had been the last time Qui-Gon had seen him. His hair, longer now, was sleek and glistened in the overhead lights. His eyes, scanning the room as though in search of his next target, were subtly highlighted with black kohl. The effect was breathtaking.

Qui-Gon knew the instant that Obi-Wan spotted him. The young man stiffened perceptibly, a frown briefly crossing his face before he affected an unconcerned air. When the Jedi stopped before him, he lifted his eyelashes in a lazy sweep of the man's form, finally meeting his gaze.

"Slumming, Jinn? I wouldn't have thought this would be your scene," Obi-Wan jibed coolly.

"I need to speak with you," Qui-Gon replied, by way of an explanation.

Obi-Wan shook his head. "Haven't got the time. I'm working."

Qui-Gon sighed. "I will pay you for your time. Is there somewhere we can talk? It's awfully loud in here."

Obi-Wan looked at him consideringly, before shrugging. "Come on."

He followed the younger man out of the club and into a nearby lift. A few moments later, the doors opened upon a dimly lit hallway that reeked of stale urine, sweat and semen. Qui-Gon fought to keep his distaste from showing on his face. He followed his companion down the corridor, pausing before one of the nondescript doors as Obi-Wan placed his hand on the identipad.

"Lights," the young man called out, glancing at the Jedi as he led him into the simple room. It was largely unfurnished, except for a large bed, a bedside table, and an overstuffed chair, piled high with clothes. It was, however, clean and tidy. Qui-Gon heaved a silent sigh of relief.

Obi-Wan emptied his pockets on the table, then sat down upon the bed to tug off his black leather ankle boots. He leaned back on his elbows, affecting an intentionally provocative pose. "So, why did you want to talk to me?"

"I wanted to make sure you were all right," Qui-Gon said, rather lamely.

Obi-Wan lifted one hand, palm up. "Don't I look like I'm all right?"

"Yes," Qui-Gon replied quietly. "Yes, you do."

"Well, then, if that's all," Obi-Wan sat up, glancing at his timepiece upon the bedside table. "That'll be ten credits."

"Obi-Wan, you don't have to live like this," the Jedi Master said in a gentle voice. "Let me help you."

"You want to help me?" Obi-Wan asked, rising from the bed to move closer to the Jedi, his hips swaying seductively. He reached up to trail his fingertips lightly down the exposed skin of Jinn's throat. "I told you once how you could help me. Fuck me."

Qui-Gon shook his head. "And I told you, it wouldn't be wise."

"Why not?" Obi-Wan pressed, moving his hand lower, onto the tunics, across the broad planes of the man's chest. "I'm not under your care anymore, so you wouldn't be abusing your position." He slipped his arms around Qui-Gon's neck, bringing their groins into close contact and rocked his hips teasingly, then grinned as Qui-Gon's cock begin to harden.

"Remember that night on the balcony, how I felt in your arms? Remember what I was about to do? You said you wanted me. Are you going to tell me that's changed?" He ground their erections together through the fabric of their leggings, and moistened his lips slowly, leaving no doubt about his intentions.

"No," Qui-Gon replied hoarsely, struggling for control. He wanted this. Oh, Force, how he wanted this! "I won't lie to you. I still want you."

"Well, then..." Obi-Wan smiled triumphantly as he sank to his knees before the Jedi and tugged at his lacings, freeing his erection. He held Qui-Gon's gaze as he lowered his mouth over the engorged head of his cock, tasting him for the first time. Qui-Gon groaned at the intensity of the sensation. The young man swirled his tongue over the heated flesh, lingering teasingly at the slit in the head.

Qui-Gon's hands found Obi-Wan's head and entwined in his hair. Desperately, he fought the urge to bury himself in that hot cavern. The young man pleasured him expertly, and Qui-Gon gasped when his whole length was engulfed and suckled hungrily. His control weakening, he reached down and grabbed Obi-Wan's shoulders, pushing him away. "Enough!"

"But - " Obi-Wan began, his brow furrowing.

Qui-Gon pulled him to his feet and captured his mouth in a hungry kiss. He felt the other tense in his arms for a moment before surrendering, that luscious mouth opening under his in invitation. Qui-Gon slipped his tongue inside, engaging him in a lusty duel, tasting himself on the other's breath. He explored the innermost recesses before retreating with a nibbling suckle of Obi-Wan's lower lip. When at last they parted, he was pleased to note that Obi-Wan was breathing hard and flushed, apparently as affected by the kiss as he had been.

For a long moment, he wavered, before giving in to his lust. He slipped his hands under Obi-Wan's shirt and tugged it over his head, tossing it away. His hands, shaking slightly, fell to the fasteners that held the leather pants closed. He made quick work of them, reaching one hand in to draw Obi-Wan's erect penis forth. He began to stroke it lazily as he sought the younger man's mouth once again. He slowly moved them backwards toward the bed, until Obi-Wan's knees met the edge and he sat abruptly.

Qui-Gon looked down at the beautiful young man before him. His eyes were dark and stormy with passion, his lips reddened from the Jedi's hungry kisses. His hard cock jutted out from the dark vee of his pants. But, as much as he wanted to make love to Obi-Wan, he would not unless he was sure.

"Obi-Wan," he said softly, one hand reaching out to touch the other's cheek. He gasped when Obi-Wan turned his head, swirling the tip of his tongue in Qui-Gon's palm. "If you don't want to do this, we can stop."

Obi-Wan looked up at him thoughtfully. He licked his lips as he allowed his eyes to roam freely over Qui-Gon's body, from broad shoulders and chest to his rampant erection, then met the Jedi's gaze. In a halting voice, he admitted, "I - I want you too."

Knowing how difficult the admission was, and knowing that he was not likely to repeat it, Qui-Gon shed his clothing quickly, then grabbed the ankles of Obi-Wan's pants and pulled them from his body. He joined the young man on the bed, pressing his body down into the other's, groaning at the exquisite feel of their hard cocks rubbing together. Once again, he claimed Obi-Wan in a kiss, intent on branding himself upon the young man's very soul.

Bracing himself with one hand, he let the other explore everywhere he could reach. He sought out all of Obi-Wan's sensitive spots, discovering which ones made him squirm, which ones made him gasp, and which ones made him moan in helpless need. Eventually, he broke the kiss, his mouth following where his hand had been. He sucked a tightly drawn nipple, licked at the curve of an ear, nibbled along the ticklish ribcage until the young man was writhing beneath him.

Finally, he rolled them onto their sides. Drawing Obi-Wan's leg over his hip, his large palm caressed the muscled thigh as his fingertips mapped the young man's rounded buttocks, before pausing to touch him intimately.

"Now!" Obi-Wan gasped, arching against him.. "Take me!"

"Do you have any ---?" Qui-Gon began, only to be cut off by the other.

"Now, damn it!" he pleaded, one hand tightening on Qui-Gon's bicep. "I want to feel you inside me. I'm ready, just do it!"

Qui-Gon angled his hips and guided his hard cock to the younger man's opening. He felt a slick welcoming heat as he slowly pressed himself home. Obi-Wan closed his eyes and relaxed his body. Of course, Qui-Gon thought, he would already be prepared. It's what he does for a living. For a moment, an intense wave of jealousy washed over him. But, he pushed it from his mind. He would not think of that now. For now, he wanted to live in this moment.

The Jedi Master called on all his formidable control as he began to thrust slowly into the younger man's body. Each time he penetrated him, Obi-Wan groaned, low and throatily. It was more arousing than anything Qui-Gon had ever heard. His thrusts deepened and grew more intense as his pleasure mounted.

He rolled Obi-Wan over onto his back. Qui-Gon placed a hand on either side of his lover's torso, supporting the weight of his upper body as he drove in hungrily. Obi-Wan reached down and wrapped his fist around his cock, pumping in time with Qui-Gon's rhythm. His other hand clung to Qui-Gon's strong bicep, his nails digging into the flesh.

"Obi-Wan," he called out as he slammed in harder and harder. "Look at me!"

The other man's eyes flickered open and looked up at him. Qui-Gon leaned over and kissed him again, then drew away to stare deep into his eyes. He thrust deep three more times, then growled in exquisite pleasure as he poured his seed into the younger man's body. Obi-Wan's eyes widened in surprise. A moment later, the Jedi felt the hot warmth of semen pulsing against his stomach. Obi-Wan shouted his completion, his eyes fluttering shut, even as Qui-Gon collapsed on top of him.

The two lay tangled together, panting for several long moments. When Qui-Gon finally had the strength to move, he pushed himself up on one elbow. With gentle fingers, he moved a lock of hair off his lover's forehead. Obi-Wan opened his eyes to look into Qui-Gon's face. Whatever he saw there apparently disturbed him greatly, for he suddenly pushed the older man away. "Get out."

"What?" Qui-Gon was stunned. He rolled onto his back, giving Obi-Wan some space, but the young man leaped from the bed and grabbed a towel, wiping the come off his stomach.

"I said, get out!" Obi-Wan shouted angrily. "I've gotten what I wanted from you, now just go!"

"Obi-Wan -" the Jedi Master sat up on the bed.

"Do I need to call the fucking authorities? Get the fuck out of here!" Obi-Wan screamed in rage, gathering up the Jedi's clothing and throwing it in his face. "I never want to see you again!"

Qui-Gon stood up and quickly dressed, but his eyes never left Obi-Wan. "I want you to return to the Temple with me," he said.

"Why the fuck would I do that?"

"You'll be safe there," Qui-Gon told him. Safe, and with me, he added silently.

"The Jedi don't want me, and I sure as hell don't want them," Obi-Wan answered. "Or you. Now get out!"

"All right, I'm going," Qui-Gon said. He paused by the door, looking back over his shoulder at the visibly upset young man. "If you ever need me, I will come. Just call me."

"Fuck off!" Obi-Wan screamed, picking up one of his boots and hurling it at the older man.

Qui-Gon ducked out the door, then paused in the hallway to slip on his boots. Still, he hesitated a moment more before leaving.

"I'm sorry, Obi-Wan," he said softly, knowing the young man would not hear him. "I'm so sorry." With that, he turned on his heel and walked away, out of the building and toward the public transport area half a block away.

He didn't know if he would ever see Obi-Wan again. The demons that haunted the young man were strong, perhaps too strong for even a Jedi to overcome.

Inside the room, Obi-Wan paced back and forth, fighting his emotions. The orgasm he had just experienced was the most intense of his life. Jinn had been so gentle, so passionate, so intent on giving pleasure and not just receiving it. And, that look the man had given him after they had fucked - a look of tenderness, of longing, of love, even. It was something the former slave was never experienced before. It rocked him to his very foundation.

But, he knew that this man could never be his. A relationship between them was never to be.

You're a failure, Kenobi, he told himself bitterly. You weren't good enough for the Jedi, and you certainly aren't good enough for Qui-Gon. Better to push him away now than to wait until he realizes that and breaks what's left of your heart.

He crumpled onto the bed, burying his face in the crook of one elbow. He had touched paradise today, but he couldn't stay there, had glimpsed heaven and could not enter. Lost in despair, he slid from the bed to the floor, landing hard on his knees. A single, heartbroken sob escaped him.

The transport pulled to a stop before him, and Qui-Gon stepped forward, only to misstep and nearly stumble as a wave of despair washed over him. An image flashed into his mind for the briefest of seconds - Obi-Wan, crumpled beside the bed, sobbing out his pain.

He hesitated, glancing behind him. Should he go back? Would Obi-Wan welcome him, or curse him?

"Are you boarding, sir?" the droid driver asked politely.

Qui-Gon didn't respond. He remembered Obi-Wan's face as the young man threw him out. No, he told himself sternly. He needs time. If you pressure him now, you'll lose him forever. Reluctantly, he stepped onto the transport and took a seat, letting it whisk him back to the Temple.

Hidden in the shadows beside the building, Darth Maul watched as Jinn left, carefully shielding his presence until the Jedi had boarded the public transport and was out of sight. He reached out with his dark power to touch Kenobi's mind, glad to have found him at last. There was so much pain there, so much need. A slow smile spread across his face.

Tonight, he thought. Tonight, under cloak of darkness, I will pay you a visit. Then, Kenobi, you will know real pain. Then, you will pay for my failure at Devinnar 3.

Maligo answered his door, not surprised to find a distraught Qui-Gon on the other side. The tall man had his head down, his hands braced against the doorframe. As Maligo opened the door wider, Qui-Gon raised a tortured gaze to him. "I'm in trouble, Lee."

"What's happened?" he stepped aside, inviting the other man in with a sweep of his hand.

Qui-Gon crossed the room with unseeing eyes, flinging his large frame down on the sofa. "I went to see Obi-Wan."

"Ah," Maligo replied, taking a seat beside his friend.

"That's it?" Qui-Gon asked, a flash of irritation showing on his face. "I tell you I'm in trouble and all you can say is 'ah'?"

"Let me finish, Qui," he reached out and patted his friend's knee, a rueful smile on his face. "I was also going to say... I see."

"Damn it, Lee!" Qui-Gon rose abruptly and began to pace the room. "I'm serious! I'm in big trouble."

"Calm down, my friend, and tell me what's happened. Until you do, I'm afraid the best council I can offer you is... I see."

The tall man stopped in the middle of the room, one hand on his hip, the other rubbing at the tension in his neck. "You're right. I'm sorry."

Maligo patted the sofa beside him and waited expectantly. Qui-Gon took a few deep breaths to quiet himself, then rejoined his friend on the sofa. Without embellishment, he told Maligo of his encounter with Obi-Wan.

"And, when it was over, he got so angry, he started yelling and throwing things at me, until finally I left," the Jedi related.

"Why do you think he reacted that way?" the older man asked, trying to help his friend see the true cause of Obi-Wan's apparent anger.

"I don't know," Qui-Gon insisted, burying his face in his hands for a long moment. "He just looked at me, then exploded."

"What were you thinking, Qui, in that moment he looked at you?"

"A thousand things," the Jedi leaned back, allowing his head to rest against the sofa. His eyes drifted closed. "I was thinking how wonderfully strong he is... even after all he's been through, he's still compassionate, decent, honest. How he never really got a chance to be the man he was supposed to be, and yet he's still a man I would be honored to call my friend."

Maligo sat quietly, not interrupting his friend.

"I thought, how amazing are the ways of the Force, leading me back to him after all these years. And that this time I was going to make damned sure no one hurt him again."

"Is that when you realized you had fallen in love with him?" the older man asked gently.

Qui-Gon sucked in his breath in shock, his head snapping around so he could meet the other's gaze. Lee offered him a warm smile.

"Yes, my friend, I've known for a while that you had fallen in love with him," he confirmed. He reached out to pat Qui-Gon's leg again. "Your shields haven't been the best lately. At least where Obi-Wan is concerned."

"I can't - I shouldn't - " Qui was unable to form a coherent thought.

"Amazing, isn't it?" Maligo's eyes were understanding. "How easily the heart ignores the 'I can'ts' and 'I shouldn'ts' of life. I told you once that you should consider your role in his life. Perhaps this is the role you were intended to fulfill, Qui. To teach him how to love."

Qui-Gon took a long breath, then nodded. "It's true. I don't know when it happened, but somewhere along the line, I fell in love with him. Not that it will come of anything. Obi-Wan hates me. He hates the Jedi, and the Temple, and me, most of all."

"I wouldn't be so sure," Maligo hedged cryptically.

"What do you mean?" Qui-Gon looked up, an expression of hope flaring in his eyes.

"I think his anger may be a mask for other, more tender feelings," Maligo rose from his seat and went into the kitchen. "Would you like some tea?"

"Hmm? Oh, yes, please," Qui-Gon followed him, and leaned against the counter, his arms crossed over his chest. "Lee, when I was coming back to the Temple, I had the weirdest thing happen. I thought I heard Obi-Wan crying. But, there is no way I could have heard him from that far away."

"Have you ever had something like this happen before? I mean, with someone who is not your Padawan?" Maligo turned to him after pouring two cups.

Qui-Gon shook his head.

Interesting, Maligo thought. I've never known Qui to show empathic sensitivity like this. He sat down to wait for the tea, anxious to hear more.

"I can't leave him out there," Qui-Gon said softly, his voice hoarse with emotion as he sipped at his hot tea. "But I can't force him to return to the Temple, either."

"No," Lee shook his head. "That has to be Obi-Wan's idea. I have a feeling he's rather stubborn, just like another man I know."

Qui-Gon smiled a bit sheepishly, then his expression turned serious again. "Can you sense him, Lee? Is he still upset?"

The old man closed his eyes and opened himself to the Force. He began to search for the Force signature of the young man he had come to admire on Devinnar 3. At last, he found him. He narrowed his focus, trying to get a sense of Obi-Wan's emotional state.

"I think he's sleeping," he said after a moment. He looked up into the concerned blue eyes. "Don't worry. I'll watch over him for you, Qui."

Obi-Wan awoke and sat up stiffly. He had stayed on his knees for some time, his heart aching with the old pain of rejection and the new pain of an unattainable love. Finally, he had crawled onto his bed, lying there on the very spot where Jinn had made love to him, and had fallen asleep.

Fuck it, he thought bitterly, dragging one hand across his face to wipe away the tear-smudged kohl. Why can't I ever seem to get a break?

He ran his fingers through his tousled hair and stretched, wincing slightly as the ache in his ass reminded him of Jinn. The Jedi was well endowed, that much was certain. With that thought, his despair returned. He steeled himself against it. Jinn was in the past. Now, though, he could at least spread the word that he was a Jedi Master's private whore. It should improve business considerably.

He glanced at the clock. It was late, and if he was going to find a client or two this evening, he needed to pull himself together. But, the thought just didn't interest him. How can I take a stranger now? he wondered. Still, I need to earn some money, enough to get off this rock. Then, maybe the memories will be easier to live with.

He headed for the shower. He was only halfway there, however, when he heard the sound of his door being slowly opened. His heart did a slow flip in his chest, wondering if Jinn had returned. He spun -- and gasped.

The being before him was the embodiment of evil. From the top of his horned head to the blazing orange eyes to the black and red tattoos that covered him, he was a figment of nightmare. Obi-Wan opened his mouth to yell, to call out for help, but the creature moved like lightning and soon had him in a headlock, a strong forearm pressing against his throat in a stranglehold. Recalling Jinn's lessons, he twisted his body, reaching out and around with one leg, sliding a hand up under a tattooed chin. He reached back for the creature's knee, jerking hard as he stiff-armed the chin.

With a grunt his attacker fell, dragging Obi-Wan down with him. As he'd been taught, he drove a fist hard into the exposed throat and the hands holding him loosened just enough for him to throw himself clear.

He rolled to his feet, now between the door and his attacker, and made a quick move toward the exit. But the intruder held out one hand and froze him into place. His heart thudded in his chest as the Force - though the Dark Side, surely - held him trapped. He was unable to move or to make a sound as the creature advanced on him.

"So, you're not the helpless little pup I imagined you to be, are you?" the being said in a soft, slippery, dangerous sort of voice, all the while leering ominously. It circled his naked, trembling body, ice cold fingers dragging through the traces of dried sweat and semen. "No matter. Your fighting skills are no match for my power. I am Darth Maul. But you may call me, Lord Maul."

Then, he fell silent, though Obi-Wan could still hear him. Don't you know me? the creature said directly into his mind. The thought sliced through his brain like a thousand knives and Obi-Wan moaned in agony.

Obi-Wan gasped as he recognized the voice as the one he had heard in his head on the trip back from Devinnar 3. So! He wasn't going mad, then. That voice, those thoughts, had been implanted. He saw Maul grin.

Yes, I am the one who has been speaking to you, filling you with lies and fear and deceit. And, I was the one on Devinnar 3, urging you from your safe little sanctuary, that hated voice said, echoing in his head. One gloved hand reached up to stroke Obi-Wan's cheek. The former slave was powerless to resist. You disappointed me that night. Worse, you made me disappoint my Master. You shall have to pay for that.

He reached down to caress the curve of Obi-Wan's hip, making the smaller man shudder with revulsion. "I have come to kill you," he said aloud, as calmly as if he were discussing the weather. He smiled again. "But, nothing says I can't enjoy it."

The first blow of the Sith's fist felt as if it shattered Obi-Wan's jaw. He fell backwards onto the hard floor, gasping in agony, then nearly threw up as a booted toe slammed into his side.

"Oh, yes," Maul said, bending down to meet Obi-Wan's eyes. "I am going to enjoy this."

He pulled the smaller man up by a handful of hair and began to systematically beat him. Obi-Wan scarcely felt it as he was thrown bodily across the foot of the bed. Maul forced his legs apart, then bent over him, grinding Obi-Wan down against the hard mattress.

The young man screamed in silent agony as a thick, hot cock impaled him. He was still loose and well-oiled from his earlier encounter, and it shouldn't have hurt. But it did. Oh, fuck, it did! As a slave, he'd been taken unprepared many times, but never had he felt this much pain. It was as if the Sith's cock was covered with tiny barbs that caught and tore him as the being began to thrust. He clinched his fists into the sheets, squeezing his eyes shut as he felt blood began to flow.

"Enjoying yourself, are you?" Maul asked, his voice filled with grim satisfaction as he sped up his efforts. "I'll bet Jinn never took you this way, did he? No. He's too noble, too serene. Well, if you think this hurts, just wait. I have a surprise for you."

Obi-Wan gasped in horror as the Sith reached up to grab the back of his neck. The Force-inhibiting collar grew suddenly hot, burning his sensitive skin, then fell away completely. With the force of a cyclone, awareness rushed into his brain, and with it, needling pain, like razors, slicing through his mind. Pressure bore him down as the sudden awareness of other beings filled his consciousness. He could feel Maul above him, other beings elsewhere in the building, out on the streets. The whole city was full of them, the whole planet. Images and sensations bombarded him, painfully intense and growing sharper, clearer, with each passing second, until he thought his brain would explode from the invasion.

Obi-Wan Kenobi screamed, but the sound was lost in the maelstrom of the universe.

Lightsabers flashed in the training salle as the combatants vied for position. The crowd that had gathered to watch was silent, enthralled by the tall Master and his young Padawan as they circled and parried.

"Excellent, Anakin," Qui-Gon said, moving to block yet another well-timed blow. "But keep your left elbow up. There's a weakness there that an enemy would be able to exploit."

"Yes, Master," the boy replied, moving quickly in for another strike.

Qui-Gon stepped forward, intent on disarming the boy, but a sudden sense of impending danger washed over him, followed immediately by a stab of pain so severe that it drove him to his knees. The blow he should have easily blocked struck his right shoulder, searing through the thin fabric of his workout tunic despite the 'saber's low setting.

"Master!" Anakin shouted. But the boy's voice and the pain of his wound and the murmurs of the onlookers barely penetrated his awareness.

"Obi-Wan!" he gasped as he struggled to his feet. He shook off the hands that reached out to help him.

"Stay here, Padawan," he ordered before racing unsteadily for the door. He didn't know what had happened. He only knew that Obi-Wan was in agony, and that there was no time to spare.

He ran through the Temple corridors like a madman. Rounding a corner, he barely avoided a nasty collision with Maligo.

"Obi-Wan's being hurt!" the old man cried. "We must get to him quickly!"

Qui-Gon nodded curtly, grabbing his friend by the arm and towing him along as he hurried toward the private landing bay assigned to Mace Windu. Once there, he vaulted into the sleek gold speeder and keyed the ignition.

"Hold on," he said as he gunned the engine.

Unwilling to wait for the lift, Qui-Gon took the stairs three at a time. Maligo was close at his heels, moving surprisingly fast for a man of his years. As Qui-Gon slid to a stop at Obi-Wan's door, his lightsaber flew to his hand and sliced through the lock. A single, fierce kick tore the door nearly off its hinges, and he was inside a second later.

Obi-Wan and the Sith were in the center of the small room, the Zabrak holding Obi-Wan suspended by his throat. The young man was a mass of bruises and cuts, and his face was turning blue from oxygen deprivation.

"Let him go!" Qui-Gon ordered, moving into a defensive stance and sensing Maligo doing the same a few feet to his right.

The Sith sneered. "So, his Jedi defender has come to rescue him," he growled, and he glanced caustically at Maligo. "And, look. He's brought a little playmate."

He tossed Obi-Wan away like a rag doll. His limp body hit the bed, then tumbled off the foot to lie motionless against the wall. Qui-Gon felt his heart freeze in his chest.

"See to him!" Maligo shouted, stepping quickly to his right and forcing the Sith to turn with him, drawing his attention away from the fallen man. Qui-Gon didn't argue. He rushed to Obi-Wan's side and dropped to his knees. Hurriedly, he pressed his fingers into the purpled throat, searching for a pulse. Even as a wave of relief washed over him from finding it, he realized that he had inadvertently placed himself in the path of the Sith's second blade. His only warning was the amused chuckle of the Zabrak as he keyed his weapon.

The red column burst forth, its deadly tip scoring a deep wound in Qui-Gon's already wounded right shoulder. He hissed in pain as his lightsaber fell from his suddenly nerveless fingers and rolled under the bed. But before the Sith could strike a fatal blow, Maligo came to his rescue.

With a shout, the older man leaped forward, his amber blade flashing as he struck a combination of thrusts and swinging blows. The Sith rapidly twirled the hilt of his lightsaber in front of his body, effectively creating an impenetrable shield, deflecting all of the Jedi's efforts.

Qui-Gon called his saber back to his left hand and ignited it, then aimed a low, sweeping blow toward the Sith's unprotected feet. To avoid the blow, the tattooed warrior performed a low back flip onto the center of the rumpled bed. He misjudged the room's height, however, and one blade scored a dark slash in the ceiling, showering the men with powdery white dust. Immediately, he deactivated one blade.

Qui-Gon took a single step forward, leading with his left and keeping his injured right shoulder turned away, presenting a smaller target in the close confines of the small room. The Sith seemed unconcerned to be facing two opponents. Moving with an economy of motion that Qui-Gon almost envied, he managed to easily hold off both Jedi.

"Come to save your little fucktoy, have you?" he taunted as he parried their blows.

Qui-Gon felt a wave of uncontrollable rage wash through him, igniting his blood. Ruthlessly, he forced it down.

"What a sweet piece of ass he is," the tattooed creature was continuing. "Or, should I say was? After being taken by a Zabrak, he'll be ruined for life."

"You monster!" Maligo growled, thrusting forward in a reckless move that nearly cost him a hand. The Sith grinned and shot a hard look at Obi-Wan. To Qui-Gon's horror, the unconscious young man groaned as if in sudden agony.

"Leave him alone!" Maligo shouted, taking his eyes off the Sith for a brief glance at Obi-Wan. The dark warrior took immediate advantage of the moment. With a whirling kick, he hit Maligo in the side of the head with his boot, knocking him forward into Qui-Gon, who was forced to stagger backwards to keep from going down. The Sith jumped to the floor behind the old man. One slice of his red-bladed weapon across Maligo's back and it was all over.

The old man fell forward, almost under Qui-Gon's feet, and Qui-Gon felt his friend pass into the Force. But there was no time to mourn his passing. His opponent was edging to his left, still parrying the Jedi's thrusts as he found clear fighting space.

Time to end this, Qui-Gon thought resolutely, sensing Obi-Wan beginning to stir. He was tiring rapidly, on the verge of losing his Force hold on the pain, but he pressed forward, delivering blow after blow. The Sith blocked each one, and quickly had him back in a defensive position. Hindered by his nearly useless right arm, Qui-Gon could only block and block again, as the tattooed warrior slowly forced him backwards toward the corner of the room, away from Obi-Wan.

Qui-Gon lost himself in the Force, letting it fill his mind, guide his moves. He blocked one stroke at the last possible second, feeling the heat of the red blade on his face. A surprise move on the Sith's part got past his guard and Qui-Gon growled as the 'saber took another bite out of his shoulder. Reeling with pain, the Jedi began to realize that he might not survive this encounter. His greatest fear, however, was what would become of Obi-Wan if he failed.

Come on, Mace! he thought desperately, trying to project the words through the Force. I know you have a tracking device on that speeder! Follow it, Sith damn it! I need help!

Obi-Wan groaned and rolled over, every inch of his body hurting. Sounds he hadn't heard since his childhood brought back flashes of an all too recent nightmare: the strident clash of lightsabers, punctuated by grunts and heavy breathing. The sounds of a lightsaber battle.

He opened his eyes - and found himself staring into a mask of death. Maligo, his face just inches away, was dead, his eyes clouded and unseeing, his face contorted with one last expression of pain. Just over an arm's length away, the Sith warrior and Jinn were fighting. Maul was slowly but surely working the Jedi into the corner. Soon, his position would allow him no room to maneuver. Then, it would be only a matter of time before the red 'saber found its mark.

Obi-Wan felt a wave of fear roll over him. He lay frozen for a moment, watching the battle unfold. Jinn was clearly struggling. Three angry red burns peeked through the sliced fabric over his right shoulder, and the Jedi Master was fighting one handed, his injured arm hanging useless at his side.

Obi-Wan's gaze fell upon the discarded weapon that lay within Maligo's lifeless fingers. Did he dare? Or would he hinder Jinn's efforts? He glanced back at the combatants to make sure his movements would go undetected. The only way this would work was if he caught the Sith by surprise. His timing had to be perfect. Obi-Wan extended one hand, his fingers closing around the black and silver hilt. The weapon felt clumsy in his hand, but he picked it up and engaged the blade. Leaping to his feet, he whirled and sliced the blade through the torso of the demonic creature.

The Sith gasped in pain and surprise before death claimed him. His broken body crumpled to the floor in a heap.

Obi-Wan fell to his knees, his chest heaving, his body a mass of pain. Jinn approached and knelt before him, wrapping his left arm around him in support. He pressed the young man to his chest, his bearded chin resting on Obi-Wan's head. The two stayed like that for several long moments, before Jinn leaned away to look him in the eyes.

"You saved my life, Obi-Wan," he said softly, his voice hoarse with gratitude. "Thank you."

Before Obi-Wan had a chance to reply, the door burst open and several Jedi, their sabers lit, filed into the room. One went to Maligo's side, checking his pulse. Two others slipped in and took up defensive positions near the fallen Sith. Mace Windu crossed to Qui-Gon's side.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

Jinn said nothing, merely nodded.

Master Yoda stumped into the room, leaning heavily on his gimer stick as he took in the scene. His eyes went from the dark warrior to the lifeless body of the Jedi Master. His perusal stopped short. Ears lifting in interest, he noticed the broken collar on the floor near the bed.

"Quickly. To the Healers, he must go," he said emphatically, pointing his gimer stick at the former slave. A couple of Knights moved to Obi-Wan's side and gently helped him to his feet. Qui-Gon held out one hand solicitously, concern for the younger man written on his face. "You, too, Master Qui-Gon. Go with him, you will."

For once, Qui-Gon did not argue. Even his extreme dislike of the Healer's ward would not keep him from Obi-Wan's side.

It was three days before the Healers would allow Obi-Wan to appear before the Council. Qui-Gon's shoulder wounds had been treated and he was released the day after the battle. Obi-Wan, on the other hand, had been ushered into a Force-dampening isolation room upon his arrival. Qui-Gon received no word on his condition beyond, "He's stable for now."

The last two days had been ones filled with endless pacing and hours spent in deep meditation. His relief was immense when, on the morning of the third day, Mace contacted him. His presence was requested at the Council's debriefing of Obi-Wan.

Qui-Gon schooled his face into a mask of serenity as the lift doors opened on the High Council's antechamber. A Senior Padawan sat at the desk. She looked up, recognized him and said, "Master Jinn, the Council is expecting you. The session has started."

The Jedi nodded civilly, then crossed the marbled floor to the set of doors leading into the Council chamber. He paused for a moment to strengthen his shields, then entered.

Obi-Wan stood in the center of the circular chamber. He was dressed in unassuming clothes, not the tunics of a Jedi, but there was a similarity. The cream colored shirt hung from his shoulders, emphasizing the extreme leanness of his physique. Dark circles under his eyes spoke of the physical and mental stress he had been under recently. Qui-Gon was surprised and dismayed to see a new Force-inhibiting collar around the young man's neck.

"So, after you killed the man on Retep, you were sent to the slave market?" Adi Gallia asked, her voice softly melodious and soothing.

Obi-Wan nodded, his eyes flickering briefly on Qui-Gon before he turned his attention back to Council members sitting before him.

"Where Master Jinn found you," Mace went on, seeking Obi-Wan's version of events. All he got was another nod from the taciturn young man.

Master Yoda looked from Obi-Wan to Qui-Gon and back again. His eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "What felt you, when the Sith was attacking Master Qui-Gon?"

Mace steepled his fingertips together, his elbows propped on his knees as he studied the former slave intently.

After a long moment, Obi-Wan admitted, "I was afraid."

Yoda leaned forward, his ears lifting with interest. "Afraid? Of what did you fear?"

Then, just as Yoda had foreseen in his meditation, Obi-Wan pointed to Qui-Gon. "Of losing him."

A moment of silence reigned before Yoda slipped from his chair and made his way to the center of the room. He reached up and tugged at Obi-Wan's hand, urging the young man to kneel. Then he placed his hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder. "Take Obi-Wan Kenobi as my Padawan Learner, I do."

The Council chamber erupted around them, but the wizened Jedi Master and the former slave seemed completely unaware. Yoda waited patiently. A myriad of emotions raced across the face Qui-Gon had grown to know so well. Disbelief. Hope. Joy. Acceptance. At last, a small smile brushed Obi-Wan's lips as he replied, "Yes, Master."

Though Obi-Wan had been rescued, his future assured by Master Yoda's unorthodox action, Qui-Gon still found no peace, not even in his meditations. There was too much left unsaid between them. Now, as he strode purposefully toward the wing housing the Healer's Ward, thoughts tumbled over and over in his mind.

What are you going to say to him, Jinn? he asked himself impatiently. That you hope he will find happiness? That you're glad he's going to be all right? How trite! Think, man, you can't just walk in there and stammer over your words. You've got to be prepared for this.

Qui-Gon slowed a bit, his steps becoming less sure. What was he going to say? That he had been afraid he'd arrive too late, terrified that the Sith would kill Obi-Wan? And that the thought of being without him tore at his heart? That he'd fallen in love -

No, the Jedi Master thought as he stopped abruptly. I can't tell him that. It wouldn't be right. He's got a chance at a new life, one where his full potential may finally be realized. It would be unfair to put that kind of burden on him.

Slowly, he turned and retraced his steps for a few moments before halting again. He stood with his head down, studying the variations of the stone floor, his hands on his hips. But, his heart was tugging him in the other direction, toward the Healer's Ward.

This is stupid, Jinn. Make a decision. You can't just stand here in the corridor. Are you going to see him or not? His feet must have made the choice for him, for the next moment he was walking toward the Healer's Ward once again. He paused, however, after only a few steps. But, what if he doesn't want to see me? He would have sent for me if he did, right?He sighed in frustration.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath as he turned decisively back toward his quarters. Again, he slowed, his heart taking over once more.

But, it would be most unkind of me to not even check on him. He'll think I don't care, Qui-Gon tried to convince himself. It's the courteous thing to do, after all. He was my responsibility. That sense of obligation doesn't end just because we're here on Coruscant, just because he's another Jedi's Padawan. I would appear very cold if I didn't go see him. And I don't want him to think that of me.

The decision made, Qui-Gon spun on his heel, only to nearly collide with Mace Windu.

"Okay, I'll bite," the dark-skinned man chuckled. "What's the name of this new dance and where can I take lessons?"

"Excuse me," the Jedi muttered, attempting to step around his friend.

Mace reached out and stopped him. "Where are you going?"

"To the Healer's Ward to see Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon explained. "And, this time, no one is going to deny me that privilege."

Windu shook his head. "Haven't you heard? He's gone."

A painful hollowness settled in Qui-Gon's chest. "Gone?" he echoed.

Windu nodded. "Yoda took a sabbatical from the Council. He and Kenobi left for Dagobah this morning."

Qui-Gon felt his shoulders sag as despair washed over him. No! he thought. He can't be gone. I need to see him, to talk to him. Vaguely, he heard Mace speaking to him, but the words were of no concern.

I didn't even get to say goodbye.

Ten months later:

Qui-Gon sighed as he followed his Padawan into their quarters. It was good to be home. They had just returned from a long mission, having spent the last several months on Devinnar 3, reorganizing and cataloging the Sith archive, upgrading the software and hardware, revamping the security systems. But, the archive was now easier to access, and its future use and survival were ensured.

"Should I unpack now, Master?" Anakin asked wearily.

Qui-Gon looked down into the boy's face, and smiled. "Tomorrow will be soon enough. I know you're tired. You may go on to bed if you wish."

"Thanks. I am pretty sleepy."

Qui-Gon watched the boy go, then turned to drape his robe across the back of his desk chair. As he did, the sketchbook laying on the desktop caught his eye. Picking it up, he thumbed it open to the page of drawings he'd made on their mission to Devinnar. There, in slightly smudged charcoal, were the sketches of Obi-Wan. He dropped onto the couch, letting one fingertip trail over the images. He remembered well when he'd drawn these.

No sense making yourself crazy, old man, he told himself silently, dropping the pad back onto the table.. Tomorrow, he'd meet with the Council for debriefing, and maybe he'd find out then how the young man was doing. He rose and made his way to the kitchen and put a pot of tea on to brew. He was so lost in thought that the chiming of the front door startled him. He turned off the water, which was already steaming, and went to answer it.

"Hello, Master Jinn."

Qui-Gon felt his face break into a wide smile. "Hello, Padawan Kenobi," he said, matching the young man's familiar formality. Obi-Wan looked wonderful. He had filled out since they'd last seen each other. His hair, cut in the Padawan style, was a rich, shiny auburn. The braided lock of hair tucked behind his right ear nearly reached his shoulder. His eyes, once haunted and distrustful, were sparkling with joy and new vitality. He fairly glowed with the peaceful energies of the Force. Obviously, he was thriving under Yoda's guidance. All in all, he looked -

-- beautiful.

Qui-Gon took a hasty step back. "Won't you come in?" he asked with a sweep of one hand.

Obi-Wan smiled warmly and moved past him, his gaze flicking around the common room. He stopped in the middle, his hands folded into the sleeves of his robe, but he couldn't quite stop the slight fidgeting that told of his nervousness. Intrigued, Qui-Gon watched him.

"I need to talk to you," Obi-Wan said finally. "If it's no inconvenience."

"Of course not," the Jedi Master said. He crossed the room and sank onto the sofa, expecting Obi-Wan to join him. Instead, the young man knelt at his feet, meeting his eyes respectfully.

"I have some things I want to talk about, if you'll allow me," Obi-Wan said before Qui-Gon could make his voice work.

"Certainly."

Obi-Wan paused, apparently taking a moment to arrange his thoughts, before he began to speak. "When I was a boy, on the day of the Choosing, I felt the Force guiding me to you. I had confidence that you felt it and would choose me, as it dictated. But, then, you called out Bruck's name and my world crumbled around me. I thought my life was over."

Qui-Gon opened his mouth to speak, but Obi-Wan held up a hand.

"Please, may I finish?" At a nod from the other, he continued. "Everything changed so dramatically after that. I was sold into slavery, then eventually sold again, and each master was harsher and more cruel than the last. They did everything to me that could possibly be done. Everything except kill me. That day in the slave market, I felt death stalking me, and I expected it to be the last day of my life. I felt that whoever purchased me that day would be my executioner."

Qui-Gon closed his eyes, his chest tightening until he could scarcely draw breath. Amazingly, Obi-Wan didn't seem angry. It occurred to Qui-Gon then just how much this young man had changed. He'd grown under Yoda's guidance, matured and lost the harsh edge he'd had during their time together.

"Sitting there in that filthy cage, I felt someone watching me," Obi-Wan was continuing. "When I looked up and met your gaze, I knew you immediately. Part of me wanted to throw myself at your feet and beg for mercy, beg as I wanted to that day at the Temple. But I didn't.

"So I turned my back on you, pretending I did not recognize you. When I saw you in the crowd that night, and you started bidding for me . . ." His voice broke and he had to pause for a long breath. "I felt the most gut wrenching fear I have ever known. I didn't know why I was afraid, but I was."

Qui-Gon longed to speak, to try to make things right, but he forced himself to listen as Obi-Wan shifted slightly and then began to speak again.

"But I understand it now," Obi-Wan said. "You were afraid, too. It took a great deal of courage to face me when you found me in that slave pen, and even more to free me and bring me back to the Temple. So, I thank you, Qui-Gon, for saving my life that day."

"Obi-Wan . . ." Qui-Gon started, unable to hold his silence for a moment longer.

"When I got high on Devinnar 3," Obi-Wan continued as if he hadn't been interrupted, "I had a knife. I was going to kill myself. But you took it from me, treated me with a gentle respect that I hadn't known in years. I thank you for saving my life that day as well. Then, the night I threw myself off the balcony, you showed me that the Force was, indeed, a real thing. And that I was always in its loving embrace, even when I did not know it. I thank you for saving my life three times over." Obi-Wan paused to draw a long, somewhat shaky breath. "My friend Maligo once said to me that, by your actions, you had earned the right to be called my friend. I am here tonight to humbly ask you for that honor." He swallowed heavily. "May I claim you as my friend?" He extended his hand to Qui-Gon.

Qui-Gon reached out to clasp it between his much larger ones, taking a moment to carefully consider his words before speaking. "Maligo was a wise man," he said finally. "He gave me some good advice, as well."

Twin eyebrows rose. "Oh?"

"He said I should decide if I was merely your rescuer, or your mentor, or if we were intended to form a deeper, more lasting relationship." He turned Obi-Wan's hand over in his, examining the new 'saber calluses and running his thumb over the smoothness of healthy skin, feeling the slight play of firm muscles beneath. "I would be honored to be your friend, Obi-Wan," he said. He looked up to meet those intriguing gray-green eyes. "Your friend, and more, if you will allow it." That said, he leaned forward and brushed his lips lightly across the ones he had dreamed of for months. "Lover?" he whispered.

Obi-Wan's face lit up like a star going nova. "Oh, yes," he breathed, moving in for another kiss.

This one was long and slow and entirely wonderful. Qui-Gon pulled the smaller man up into his lap, his hands sliding inside the Padawan's robe and burrowing in a desperate quest for skin. Obi-Wan reached up, stroking along the bearded jaw, his other hand tangling in the thick fall of hair at the Master's shoulder. Finally, breathless and already fully aroused, Qui-Gon broke them apart.

"Stop," he said, gazing into the flushed face mere inches from his own. "There's no need to rush. Unless Master Yoda expects you home soon, we have all night." To his delight, Obi-Wan actually chuckled, the sound like a balm to his soul.

"Oh, I'm certain Master Yoda is much too wise to expect me home before morning," Obi-Wan said. "And, if we have all night, then I give you permission to ravish me until I can't see straight."

"Oh, I intend to," Qui-Gon said with a grin.

Two floors higher, Master Yoda looked up from watering his tynerian lilies. His ears pricked up, and a slow smile added more creases to his face.

"Told you, I did," he said to his visitor. "Destined for each other, those two are."

Behind him, Mace Windu shook his head. "I just hope they tighten their shields soon. At the rate they're going, no one above Senior Padawan is going to get any sleep tonight."

"Not here," Qui-Gon murmured when Obi-Wan leaned in to kiss him. "My bed. Now."

Obi-Wan experienced an odd feeling, and it took him a moment to identify it. When he did, he let out a startled little chuckle. "You won't believe this," he said softly, feeling heat rise to his cheeks.

Qui-Gon gazed at him quizzically. "What?" he asked.

"I think I'm nervous."

Qui-Gon grinned, his eyes sparkling. He pulled Obi-Wan down for a slow, soft kiss. "That's understandable," he said. "After all, you've never taken a lover before." He hands found Obi-Wan's hips and he lifted the younger man to his feet. Taking the smaller hand in his, he rose and led him to the bedroom.

As soon as the closed behind them, Obi-Wan found himself pressed up against it by a large, muscular, and very aroused body. Their mouths met again for an endless, all too brief kiss, before Qui-Gon broke away, moving his mouth elsewhere. He kissed Obi-Wan's cheeks and his eyelids and the cleft of his chin, the touch soft and fleeting and unbearably erotic. Obi-Wan was soon panting with desperate need.

Feeling suddenly bold, Obi-Wan ran his hands slowly down Qui-Gon's arms until their fingers entwined. He leaned into Qui-Gon, pushing the larger man backwards, then slowly turning him around until their positions were reversed. He pressed his body forward, grinding his throbbing erection against Qui-Gon's thigh. Slowly, he lifted the Jedi Master's arms over his head and pinned them against the door.

Now, it was his turn to be the aggressor. He nuzzled against the bearded cheek, nipping lightly as he worked his way to an earlobe. Drawing it into his mouth, he suckled it, rolling the tip of his tongue across it and reveling in the low groan of pleasure it evoked.

"Oh, Force," Qui-Gon sighed against his skin.

Still holding the large hands captive, Obi-Wan dipped lower, licking and kissing the man's throat, feeling the Adam's apple bob as he swallowed.

"Want you," he murmured. "Want you so much." He grinned against Qui-Gon's neck as the older man thrust his hips forward, the hard cock jabbing him in the abdomen. He answered with a thrust of his own, drawing another of those low, erotic groans from the Jedi Master.

"I thought you were nervous," Qui-Gon said with a soft chuckle.

Obi-Wan released him and stepped back, grinning up at the taller man. Taking one large hand in his, he backed toward the bed. Once there, he reached for his belt, but Qui-Gon stopped him with a gesture.

"No," Qui-Gon said. "Let me."

He stopped, letting his hands fall submissively to his sides. His arousal spiraled higher as Qui-Gon unfastened the belt with strong, sure fingers and tossed it aside. The robe followed, being slowly swept from his shoulders and allowed to fall to the floor. Obi-Wan felt himself begin to tremble as his sash and then his tabard were removed with utmost care, as if he were a long-awaited gift slowly being unwrapped. His tunic soon followed, then the softer undertunic, and Qui-Gon leaned in to nuzzle gently at Obi-Wan's chest.

"Force, but you're beautiful," the Jedi Master said, rubbing the tip of his nose against one nipple until it peaked to almost painful hardness. He drew it into his lips, sucking on it until Obi-Wan was writhing against him, then scraped the newly sensitized skin with the coarseness of his beard. Obi-Wan drew in a hissing breath, and Qui-Gon chuckled low in his throat.

"Hurt?" he asked.

"No," Obi-Wan said, his voice coming out as little more than a whisper. "Again!"

Qui-Gon repeated the motion, then graced the other nipple with the same treatment, causing Obi-Wan to thrust his hips forward mindlessly.

"Gods, you're killing me!" he gasped.

"Oh, that is not my intention at all," Qui-Gon said.

His hands moved to cup Obi-Wan's ass, the fingers clinching and pulling him tightly against Qui-Gon's groin. Their erections pressed together through the confining layers of fabric and Obi-Wan could have sworn the top of his head was about to come apart. He rocked his hips forward frantically, desperate for contact, for friction, but Qui-Gon caught him by the shoulders and pushed until Obi-Wan fell onto his back on the bed.

He rose onto his elbows and looked up at the man he had thought so much about all these past few months. The expression on Qui-Gon's face nearly made him come on the spot. The Jedi Master's hair was tousled, his cheeks flushed, his lips already swollen from the strength of their kisses. His eyes - those unbelievably blue eyes -- were deep pools of heated desire as they tracked up and down the recently exposed skin. Further down, his massive cock strained for freedom.

"Watch me," the large man said, reaching to remove his own belt. He tossed it away, then removed the rest of his clothing, piece by slow piece. Obi-Wan found he couldn't tear his eyes away as more and more skin was revealed. He started to rise, wanting - no, needing - to taste, to touch. Qui-Gon stopped him with a look and he subsided, though he was trembling all over now, his arousal like a fire burning him from the inside out. It was torture, lying here just watching as Qui-Gon stripped. He wanted it to end. He wanted it to go on forever.

Bare from the waist up, Qui-Gon stalked forward, his gaze boring into Obi-Wan's. The younger man forgot to breathe as Qui-Gon lowered himself slowly down across him, one knee against the outside of his thigh, the other between his legs, pressing provocatively against his groin. Bracing himself on his hands, Qui-Gon lowered his head, and Obi-Wan moaned as a slick, hot tongue traced a path down his chest.

"Need you!" Obi-Wan gasped, both hands coming up to clasp Qui-Gon's shoulders, trying to pull the other down on top of him. But Qui-Gon was having none of it. He simply smiled and continued his assault on Obi-Wan's chest.

Every inch of skin was kissed or nuzzled or licked, from collarbone to navel to the tips of his fingers, each of which was drawn into the hot recesses of Qui-Gon's mouth and suckled before being released. Soon, his whole body was tingling with heightened sensitivity. Then, Qui-Gon's mouth moved lower, pausing for a moment to kiss the raging hard-on still trapped within the Padawan's leggings.

"Force!" Obi-Wan exclaimed, arching up. But, instead of repeating the motion, Qui-Gon merely smiled knowingly and rolled onto one elbow. Left handed, he began to untie the drawstring, and soon that engorged flesh popped free.

"Beautiful," Qui-Gon repeated, trailing one fingertip up the underside of Obi-Wan's cock from balls to tip.

"Again!" Obi-Wan demanded, not caring that this man outranked him in every way possible.

But Qui-Gon apparently had his own timetable in mind. His strong fingers hooked the waistband of the leggings and he drew them slowly downward, pausing now and then to lavish attention on the curve of a hip, the crease of a thigh. He stood at last, the motion graceful, to tug the leggings off and toss them away. He stood and stared for a moment before climbing back onto the bed. He started where he had left off, running the flat of his tongue down Obi-Wan's abdomen, inches away from his straining, pulsing cock. The crease between hip and thigh was thoroughly explored, then he worked his way down the outside of the young man's leg.

When he reached Obi-Wan's foot, it was gently lifted. Each toe was kissed and suckled. The sensation should have tickled, but instead it was enormously erotic. It did tickle, however, when Qui-Gon licked the bottom of his foot from heal to arch.

"Qui-Gon!" he exclaimed, squirming under the assault. Qui-Gon merely smiled against his skin and started up the inside of his leg. He lavished attention on the ankle, then turned the leg slightly to kiss and nibble his way up the calf. The inside of Obi-Wan's knee was briefly nuzzled before he moved on. By the time he got to the inside of Obi-Wan's thigh, the young man was writhing and panting beneath him. "Oh, Force. Please, Qui-Gon . . ."

But the Jedi Master was apparently enjoying himself too much to be rushed. He spent an inordinate amount of time worshiping that sensitive area, and Obi-Wan felt his nerves jangling together in anticipation of Qui-Gon's next stop. But, Qui-Gon only paused for one brief kiss to his scrotum before moving to the other leg.

Obi-Wan couldn't stifle a moan of distress.

Qui-Gon merely chuckled, his breath warm against the tongue-dampened skin of Obi-Wan's inner thigh.

Obi-Wan clinched both hands into the sheets as Qui-Gon went over this leg as methodically as he had the first. This foot was, apparently, more ticklish that the other, however, and Qui-Gon seemed to delight in holding it still and nuzzling it with his scratchy beard. Only when the younger man thought he could not take a second more did Qui-Gon move higher. The outside of his calf was nibbled as if it were Corellian sweet maize still on the cob. By the time he had worked his way back up to Obi-Wan's thigh, the Padawan could stand it no longer. Entwining both hands in that mane of silvered hair, he drew Qui-Gon's head to his painfully throbbing erection.

"Force!" he screamed, thrusting his hips upward as he was engulfed from tip to root in a hot, wet mouth. He tried not to thrust, tried not to clinch his hands too tightly in the Master's hair, as gentle suction was applied. He felt his balls draw tight against his body, but just as he was about to come, Qui-Gon released him.

Obi-Wan couldn't help but groan in frustration as strong hands turned him over. Qui-Gon went over his back as he had his front, kissing and nipping and tasting each inch of it. The part of his brain that was still capable of thought processes was amazed by his own reactions. There was a spot behind his right knee that made him grind his erection into the mattress below him, an area on the inside of his left thigh that made him shudder convulsively. And, when Qui-Gon pressed his lips to the small depression just above the cleft of his ass, he heard a high-pitched, wailing whine, like the cry of a dying animal, and realized belatedly that it was coming from him.

Then, all sound stopped as his cheeks were parted and that clever tongue moved lower. His body galvanized, his mouth open in a silent parody of a scream, as the entrance to his body was probed.

He'd done this himself, to countless others, but no one had ever touched him this way. So, that's how it feels, the small working corner of his brain marveled. Then, even that revelation slipped away as a wet, hot invader pierced him.

"Fuck!" he screamed, though he'd thought Master Yoda had long since trained that word out of him.

The tongue withdrew, and Qui-Gon chuckled, his warm breath dancing across the dampened flesh. "Feels good, does it?"

"Oh, Force, yes!" he gasped. He wondered what he could possibly do to get Qui-Gon to do that some more. He needn't have worried, for before the thought was even finished, the Jedi resumed his intimate caress, tracing the puckered folds with his agile tongue. Obi-Wan shivered from his curled toes to the roots of his hair, and suddenly he was babbling uncontrollably, not even sure what he was saying. "Ohyespleasemorepleasemoreohfuck . . ."

He began to thrust against the mattress, poised once again on the knife-edge of climax, but Qui-Gon pinned his hips firmly, preventing any movement. It was torture, it was heaven, and Obi-Wan thought his brain would surely explode if Qui-Gon didn't stop - or if he did.

"Need you," he pleaded, his hands clinching in the sheets. "Oh, Qui-Gon, please, I need you so much!"

The tongue was withdrawn, and he felt silken hair tickle his hip as Qui-Gon turned his head. "I need to get something for lube," the older man murmured, making a move as if to rise.

"In my belt," Obi-Wan gasped.

He heard Qui-Gon's hum of approval at his preparedness, then the Master stretched out a hand and the leather belt flew to it.

Despite himself, Obi-Wan chuckled. "Wouldn't that be considered gratuitous use of the Force?" he asked. "My Master wouldn't approve."

"Your Master doesn't need to know," Qui-Gon said, a wry grin spreading across his face. He retrieved the lube Obi-Wan had bought just that afternoon. Moments later, a cool, oily finger was probing where the tongue had been a moment before.

"Yes," the young man heard himself hiss as he tried to shove himself backwards onto that thick digit. But Qui-Gon was holding his hips down again even as he worked his finger inside with tortuous slowness. "Please, Qui-Gon," he begged. "Please, I can't wait."

"Patience, Padawan Kenobi," Qui-Gon said, a hint of humor evident in his voice. His own erection lay like a hot brand against Obi-Wan's thigh, mute testimony to his own need. His finger was all the way inside now, and it moved in a slow, gentle circle, loosening the muscle and spreading the lubricant. Eventually, a second finger was added to the first. They rocked slowly in and out, and Obi-Wan had to bite his lower lip to keep from keening at the sensation. All attempts at silence failed a moment later, when Qui-Gon angled his deep thrusts and brushed a fingertip across Obi-Wan's prostate.

A howl he couldn't suppress escaped him, and he distantly heard the sound of fabric tearing as the sheets he was clinging to gave way. His cock, trapped beneath him, was throbbing in time with his racing pulse, and his whole world was centered around those fingers.

He fell silent then as Qui-Gon added a third finger. It hurt, just a little. It had, after all, been a long time since he had been penetrated this way. Soon, however, the discomfort eased. Experimentally, he tightened his muscles around those thick invaders.

"Oh, sweet Force," he heard Qui-Gon moan, his efforts stilled for the moment. "Want you, Obi-Wan."

"You have me," the young man assured him. He wriggled his hips as much as he was able. "Take me, please. Just take me."

With a sound like the growl of some large, predatory cat, Qui-Gon pulled his fingers out. His hands clutched at Obi-Wan, rolling him over onto his back. He lifted his knees as Qui-Gon slid into position. The Jedi leaned over him, hooking his elbows behind Obi-Wan's legs and raising them still higher. Their gazes locked as the big man moved slowly forward, covering Obi-Wan's body with his own and folding him nearly in half.

Obi-Wan gasped at the first touch of that hard, thick cock against his opening. He felt his balls draw up tightly against his body, signaling his imminent orgasm. Qui-Gon apparently sensed it, too, because he stilled.

"Easy," the Jedi Master said. "Not yet. Not until I'm inside you."

That thought didn't help Obi-Wan's control one little bit, but by sheer force of will, he managed to dampen his arousal to a manageable level. Qui-Gon leaned closer, lightly nibbling his lover's lower lip as he rocked his hips and slid partway inside in one smoothly oiled thrust. Obi-Wan bucked, fighting the body that held him prisoner, wanting nothing more than to impale himself further on that huge intruder. The tongue that had pleasured him earlier thrust into his mouth, exploring all his secret places and dueling with his own.

He couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't move beneath the Jedi Master's much greater weight. Then, Qui-Gon pressed in deeper, and it no longer mattered. His own cock pulsed, desperate for release, as Qui-Gon began to slowly withdraw, only to thrust in again, much harder this time.

Needing oxygen, Qui-Gon broke the kiss, his mouth finding Obi-Wan's ear instead. The lobe was caught between strong lips as Qui-Gon sped up his thrusts, driving in deeply each time. He angled his hips, striking Obi-Wan's prostate and sending a lightning bolt of sensation up his spinal cord.

With a scream that felt like it started in his toenails, Obi-Wan came.

Qui-Gon began to drive hard now toward his own release. He pounded into the smaller man, his lips fastened onto the side of Obi-Wan's neck. He suckled that spot, drawing all the blood to the surface, leaving his mark of ownership. Finally, his thrusts became erratic, and he groaned deep in his throat as his own climax washed over him.

He rolled limply to one side, pulling the Padawan against his chest and cradling him. Obi-Wan snuggled in close, delighting in the feel of Qui-Gon's hand as it moved in slow, smooth circles on his back. "Love you," he murmured softly.

Immediately, Qui-Gon stilled. Concerned that his admission wasn't welcome, Obi-Wan raised his head. The Jedi Master's face was as pale as the bed sheets.

Oh, Force! Obi-Wan thought. I've really blown it, haven't I?

Qui-Gon was silent for a long moment. "Don't say that," he said finally in a strangled voice, "unless you really mean it."

He had thought about this a great deal over the past few months, trying to make sense of his feelings. Even as he stood outside, waiting for Qui-Gon to open the door, he still wasn't certain. But now, looking into this face, seeing the vulnerability in the blue eyes, he realized how much he meant those words. He reached up one hand to stroke the bearded jaw. "I love you, Qui-Gon," he repeated.

"Why?"

Obi-Wan blinked, wondering how this man - this wonderful, caring, infuriating man - could believe himself to be unlovable. He then let a slow smile spread over his face. "That's not an easy question to answer," he said, holding the blue gaze with his own. "I couldn't possibly name all the reasons I love you. There are as many shades of 'why' as there are stars in the heavens."

He watched, delighted, as the truth of his words was slowly absorbed. Qui-Gon's expression brightened by degrees, until his face broke finally into a beautiful smile. "I love you, too, Obi-Wan," he said.

Obi-Wan captured his lover's mouth in a searing kiss, grinding his renewed erection forward. He was not surprised to find an answering hardness rapidly developing.

"Oh, Force!" he gasped when Qui-Gon began to nibble the side of his neck. "I never knew it could be like this!"

"Neither did I," Qui-Gon said.

Obi-Wan drew back slightly at that. "Surely you've had other lovers before," he said, gazing deep into the Jedi Master's eyes. "Tell me truthfully - is it always so intensely pleasurable?"

Qui-Gon reached up to catch Obi-Wan's braid in one large hand. He let it slide through his fingers while he talked. "Truthfully? It's always been - good. Not that I've had that many partners." He shrugged. "But this, with you -" He sighed and tugged playfully on the braided lock. "This is the best it's ever been."

Obi-Wan grinned broadly and moved in for another kiss, this one deep and long and passionate. "Since we're baring our souls," he said when he finally broke the kiss, "there's one more thing I need to know."

"Anything."

He sat up, staring at the older man. "At the Choosing, I was sure the Force intended me to be your Padawan. Did you not feel it?"

"Yes, I felt it."

"Then, why, Qui-Gon? Why didn't you choose me?"

Qui-Gon smiled ruefully. "Someone once said that there were many shades of why, and it was one of those finer shades that guided my decision that day. It was wrong, but ended up being right."

"So, you're saying that some wrongs are less wrong than others, and some rights more right?"

Qui-Gon pulled him back into his arms, nodding. Obi-Wan lay there quietly for a moment, feeling the love thrum between them. "And, which is this?" he asked finally.

Qui-Gon held him close, kissing the top of his head. "This, my beloved, is the rightest right of them all."

Darth Sidious awoke from a sound sleep and glanced at his chrono, wondering what had awakened him. He sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. A tremulous whisper in the Force drew his attention. Grabbing his sleep robe, he donned it as he crossed to his private meditation alcove. The white-haired man sank to his knees and opened himself to the Force.

There. There was the disturbance. But what was the cause? He slithered in closer, his senses trained on the ever-brightening light before him. Like a chameleon, he assumed the contours and textures of the Force, obscuring his signature as he prowled.

With growing dismay, he realized the brightness was caused by the joining of two powerful Force users. The briefest of touches confirmed his suspicions. As he had foreseen it, Jinn and Kenobi had made peace between them. Their auras blended and augmented each other, shoring up weaknesses and forging new strengths.

The man did not allow himself to dwell on this turn of events. Instead, he focused his mind elsewhere. An equally powerful light beaconed him. The boy. The child was awake, having heard all that transpired in his Master's bedroom, and he was filled with a mixture of emotions. The Sith decided to take advantage of the boy's uncertainty and fear.

"Never again will you be first in your Master's heart," Sidious whispered. His words fed the boy's jealousy like summer winds fan the errant spark, creating a raging wild fire. "But you must hide your feelings. Strengthen your shields, so that he may never know he's hurt you."

Sidious pressed closer as he felt the boy's protective shielding raise around him. Curiously, the connection between them remained undisturbed. The Sith realized abruptly that the first tenuous connection of a training bond had been formed.

He was amazed. He had never heard of anyone being capable of forming multiple, yet coinciding, training bonds. The connection was such an intimate thing that, by its very nature, it demanded absolute fidelity between Master and apprentice.

A slow smile crossed the old man's face as he realized the implications. Jinn, in forming this liaison with his new lover, had exposed his apprentice. It took a great deal of time to solidify and forge a training bond, and this one was obviously not completely formed. Anakin, shunted to the side by his Master's new relationship, was vulnerable.

"Do not despair, young one," Sidious' mental voice was soft and comforting. "For even though your Master has betrayed your trust, there are others who care about you."

He projected images of the lovely young queen of Naboo and her trusted friend, the Supreme Chancellor. "Chancellor Palpatine always asks about you whenever he meets with your Master. He is your friend."

With immense gratification, the Sith found no sense of distrust in the boy when Palpatine was mentioned. Indeed, Anakin emanated warm, comfortable feelings of trust in response to the man's image.

"Now, you need to stay with Master Jinn, learn from him. And one day, you will have such power and skill that you will surpass even his reputation. You will be the most powerful Jedi ever." With a quiet ease, the old man pulled away from the boy and left his meditative state. He sat for a few moments, contemplating what he had learned this night.

He had a new apprentice. This one would be trained by the Jedi themselves. He chuckled at the sweet irony. The fools were crafting the weapon of their own destruction.

In the dark confines of his room, Anakin lay awake, considering the thoughts that had been going through his restless mind. Sighing, he turned onto his stomach and thrust his hand beneath the edge of the mattress. He withdrew a small, dark red stone and cupped it in the palm of his hand.

During their recent assignment on Devinnar 3, Master Qui-Gon and Anakin had diligently worked at cataloguing the archive, updating the hardware and installing new programs to make it more accessible to its users. One afternoon, while dusting the books on a hard to reach bottom shelf, Anakin had come across a small box stashed behind some of the ancient volumes. It was unassuming and simply made. It contained only one item -- a blood red crystal.

Anakin felt drawn to it immediately. He felt as if it were calling to him. With a furtive glance, he slipped the jewel into his utility belt and returned the box to its hiding place. Many times since, he had held the stone, studying its facets, the way it interacted with the light. It was beautiful. But tonight, it had an added beauty.

For this blood red stone, known in some parts of the galaxy as a Draconian ruby, had begun to pulse and glow with the rhythm of Anakin's own heart.

The End