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By Adelaide Elizabeth Morgan and Eleanor Davies
Categories: Pre-Slash, Q/O, Angst, H/C.
Archive: You want it, you got it. Drop us a line though...
Rating: Umm, not too sure about these... sorry. But, probably an R, maybe NC-17
Feedback: Loved it? Loathed it? Couldn't care less? Let us know!
Adelaide: Adelaide@morganne.freeserve.co.uk
Eleanor: blackheart84_98@yahoo.com
Spoilers: umm.. Possibly some in regards to Xanatos.
Disclaimer: All recognisable characters are the registered trademark or whatever of G. Lucas. I am making no money out of this, though if I did, with the amount I write in different fandoms, I'd never have to work again...
Thanks to: You, for reading this. Rushlight, as ever, for the beta.
Series: Sequel to The Force Of Loneliness, second in a planned series, tentatively titled The Force.
Summary: Obi-Wan's words and condition have effected Qui-Gon more than the Master is willing to admit
'Like Xanatos. Like Xanatos.' The words reverberated around
Qui-Gon's mind until they crushed all other rational thought.
He shook his head to try to stop them, and his brow furrowed
in concentration as he tried to work out what Obi-Wan could
have done that would make him think that he was anything like
Xanatos. But try as he might he could not think of anything;
in his
eyes, Obi-Wan was the perfect padawan.
Qui-Gon's head snapped up at that, and he slowly shook his head in denial. "No," he whispered, his voice choked. "No, not again." All Qui-Gon could think was that he'd done it again, been blind to his apprentice's needs, failed again at being a Master.
"Awful you look. Sleep you need. Rest you must." Qui-Gon had been concentrating on his padawan so intently he hadn't heard Master Yoda enter.
"I can't," he insisted. "Obi-Wan needs me."
"Good to him you will not be, if ill you make yourself."
"I know." Qui-Gon eventually admitted. "But I can't leave him. This is all my fault."
"Blaming you, no-one is. Your fault, this is not." Yoda levitated to rest on the edge of Obi-Wan's bed facing Qui-Gon. The elder Master studied his ex-padawan's face intently. "Go to your rooms you should and sleep." Yoda held up one gnarled hand when Qui-Gon would have interrupted. "Go now, or make you I shall. Sit with Obi-Wan while you rest, I will."
Qui-Gon sat still, watching Obi-Wan as though he hadn't heard the elder Jedi's words. Then he slowly turned to face Yoda, dipping his head in an almost imperceptible nod.
With a look over his shoulder at his sleeping padawan, Qui-Gon slowly made his way down the corridors of the temple to his room. He was on autopilot, doing all the things that needed to be done, not even realising where his feet were taking him before he found himself lying back on his bed.
Qui-Gon felt himself fade into sleep. He looked around and saw he was on the planet Barakion, known for its pearl white beaches and pure sand lapped by jade waters, which ebbed and flowed to the tides of feeling and emotion generated by the people. At the moment these waters were calm and inviting, much like the minds of the people around him
As he looked up the beach he saw a figure running towards him, a familiar figure. Qui-Gon looked more closely and felt his young Padawan nearing him. He could see the young man's flesh rippling over his tight muscles, and Qui-Gon felt his heartbeat quicken. In no time at all Obi-Wan was standing before him, wearing nothing but his leggings. As Qui-Gon looked down, he saw that he too was devoid of his tunic. "I've been waiting for you, Obi-Wan,""I know, Master.""Come sit with me, Padawan,"
"As you desire, my Master." Qui-Gon sat, and Obi-Wan lowered himself between his Master's legs. Qui-Gon looked at him, a smile forming on his lips. The sand made an indention around their bodies as Obi-Wan pushed them over so that he was lying on top of his Master.
"Obi."
Obi-Wan placed a finger over Qui-Gon's lips. "There's no need to speak, just feel."
With that Obi-Wan began kissing, sucking, feeling his Master's body so that Qui-Gon was writhing beneath him. Obi-Wan looked up at his Master, kissing his lips, ears and mouth and moving slowly down his body. As Qui-Gon ran his fingers along Obi-Wan's face, Obi-Wan took one of them into his mouth, sucking on it until a sharp gasp was elicited by Qui-Gon. He ran the older man's hands over his body, letting them glide over his nipples. Lowering his head to his Master, he once again began to kiss and explore Qui-Gon's mouth with his own, his hands moving with a feather-light touch down Qui-Gon's body.
Without warning, the romantic tone of the dream turned
darker. The sun-lit beach faded to be replaced by the harsh
synthetic light of Qui-Gon's apartment in the Temple. He saw
himself key in the code, opening the door. He called out to
let Obi-Wan know he was home as he walked through to the
kitchenette to make himself a drink. Obi-Wan didn't respond,
and his
Force-signature was so weak and wrong that it worried
Qui-Gon, who followed it to Obi-Wan's room. The door was shut
and locked, and the light on.
The odd feeling in the Force and the ebbing of Obi-Wan's signature made Qui-Gon over-ride the lock.He walked in and the sight that befell him stopped him in his tracks: Obi-Wan was lying on the floor semi-conscious, his wrists bleeding and a knife on the floor beside him. Qui-Gon's breath caught in his throat; he bent down, picked his padawan up, and ran to the Healers with the younger man in his arms. But he couldn't get there.
The corridors seemed to last forever, time slowing down for him, but not for the young man dying in his arms. Eventually, the healers were in sight, and Qui-Gon sped his pace even more. The path disappeared before they reached the healers and Qui-Gon felt himself falling. falling. falling.
The ground rushed towards him; Qui-Gon could feel his breath hitching in his chest, his body tensing for the impact and the pain that was sure to come in the next instant.His eyes opened slowly, unsurely, staring upwards, body tense but not in pain, not the amount of pain there should have been from such a large fall. Yet he was low down, definitely on the ground, the hardness of the floor adding discomfort; he turned his head slowly, almost as if doing so would send a new terror racing towards him.
Realisation flooded him - his room, no corridors. Qui-Gon sat up sharply, at the same time turning the lights on with the Force. Shaking his head to wipe away the cobwebs of the dream, Qui-Gon forcibly reminded himself that Obi-Wan was all right, he'd gotten him to the healers and he was recovering.
A small rustle alerted Qui-Gon to the fact he was not alone in his room. On shaky legs he stood, then turned to look at Eeth Koth, who was sitting in the chair at the far end of his private chambers
"Eeth." He greeted the other master with a voice still hoarse from sleep
"Qui-Gon, my friend. How are you?"Qui-Gon's eyes narrowed. Koth was not known for his social niceties
"What brings you here?"
"I." Eeth paused, meeting Qui-Gon's eyes. "I have a message from the healers. Your padawan has need of you."