Theme and Timbre: Fugue

by RavenD (ravendreams@earthlink.net)

Summary: Fugue: A polyphonic musical composition in which one or two themes are repeated or imitated by successively entering voices and contrapuntally developed in a continuous interweaving of the voice parts.

Notes: This piece is dedicated to LaConstance. Many thanks to Mystique, Mac, MJ and Velma for their thoughts and input. I appreciate the care and concerns they posited. All mistakes and blame fall solely upon my shoulders.

Fugue: A polyphonic musical composition in which one or two themes are repeated or imitated by successively entering voices and contrapuntally developed in a continuous interweaving of the voice parts.

He swayed, sore and bruised, filth dripping from his hair, his cloak, his bloodied fingers. Almost there. One step, two, every step being one closer to safety and warmth. The night clung to him, buried in the hollows underneath his eyes, slipped into raw spaces within his mind. He looked down on his hands, looked at the scabbed end where a nail had been.

Obi-Wan thought perhaps it had happened when he had fallen, when the mud and the blood and the fury had covered his eyes, blinding them to the light.

He could see something ahead, lights sparkling in the darkness, tiny sparks that pierced his eyes like thorns. With every step, the lights grew brighter, more distinct and they throbbed within his head until his eyes would not open, could not bear the pinpricks violating this voluntary blindness. Wrapping his cloak around him, he sank to the ground, feeling the mud rise to cradle the dead weight of his boneless flesh.

He lay, embracing the velvet-heavy night, breathing in its vinegar and salt promises. The chill traveled into his spine and he relished the ache as he tried to forget the flesh that held him.

Obi-Wan sank. Worms, dirt, slow-moving mold and rot and dung -- he held each fading breath as a sacrifice to the death, the destruction around him. He didn't even notice that he was moving until he felt the water seeping into his skin.

Arms held him, stripping away the cloth bound to him, pushing him into cool, clean water, pushing his head under quickly before letting him free. He struggled, screaming, clawing at the fabric, holding the fetid smell of blood and death and loss and rage close to him, let it drive his eyelids tighter together, feel the shame fill him.

Opening his eyes, Obi-Wan watched his pale legs float in the inky water. He sank against the body holding him, seeing nothing but white limbs in a world of liquid night.

Obi-Wan floated, closed his eyes when the pale reflection of his body became too much to look at.

"No!" The growl appeared there, achingly familiar and not shamed, not lost. A wave of heat hit the base of his neck, the center of his chest, his groin as he was pulled from the water and laid out before a blaze. "No. Come into the light, Padawan. Let me warm you; let me touch you. I will drive the darkness back, open to me." Obi-Wan fought to remember, to open his eyes one more time.

His lashes were heavy, heavy as his hands, his feet, his head. The waves of warmth became a passing fascination, simply a distraction in a long lifetime of leaving.

The sheer fury bleeding from that voice shocked his muscles into motion as the pressing fingers scraped fiercely across his body, peeling, opening, demanding his attention. Naked, he shivered, feeling rough calluses scrub at his body, forcing the blood to awaken nerves that had convinced themselves to rest. Obi-Wan opened his eyes.

His master's eyes were dark, a streak of mud marring the damp cheek. Obi-Wan reached up to brush it away and the filth from his hand smeared across the strong cheekbone.

Obi-Wan closed his eyes and turned his back to the possibility of a dawning sun.

The hands that spun him around were hard, biting into his shoulder, flashes of light behind his eyes. Sparks bloomed within his head, nowhere to look without those bits of brightness that were his master. You would give up? Fine, Padawan, but attend me. I will not let you go. Do you hear me, Obi-Wan Kenobi. Where you go, I follow.

The kiss had teeth and stole his breath and against his will the world began to change, gain color. Obi-Wan felt the weight of Qui-Gon's intent within him, filling his mind with a bolt of brilliance so shocking that his eyes flew open and were filled with the rising sun.

He strode, searching and listening, wind whipping through his hair, his cloak, debris hurled against his chest and thighs. Almost there. One step, two, every step bringing him closer to his lost one. The dawn was coming, he could hear it, bubbling behind the mountains, waiting to pour sunlight into the valley, to burn away the night. He looked down at the glint of the stones in the road, looked at the mud-filled footprints marking Obi-Wan's tortured crossing.

He couldn't remember quite when he had known it was time to find Obi-Wan, to bring him back from his self-imposed trials, this experiment of pain.

Qui-Gon thought perhaps it had happened when Obi-Wan had fallen from his perch, from his pedestal, when the mud and the blood and the fury had covered those grey eyes, blinding them to the light.

He could see something ahead, a dull spot of darkness within the sparkling stones, the stillness drew him like a lodestone. With every step, the lights dimmed, growing less distinct and the loss throbbed within his head until his eyes strained open, searching for the pinpricks of moonlight to end this involuntary blindness. Reaching the still form, Qui-Gon threw off his cloak, feeling his gorge rise as he bent to touch the dead weight of cool flesh. The steady heartbeat beneath his fingers moved him into action.

He stood, embracing the heavy dark form, breathing in its almost-forgotten promises. The chill traveled into his spine and he responded with a pulse of warmth as he tried to forget the fragility of the flesh that he held.

Holding the young man in his arms, Qui-Gon moved to the river that burbled beside the road, moonlight swirling within. Water, sun, stars going nova and growth and love -- he held each bright thought as a lure to life, the glory around him. He washed away the muck, not even noticing what he was doing until he felt Obi-Wan move in his arms.

Qui-Gon held him, stripping away the cloth bound to him, pushing him into cool, clean water, pushing his head under quickly before letting him free. Obi-Wan struggled, screaming, clawing at the fabric, panicking as the smell of blood and death were lost to him. Qui-Gon sensed the shame of failure fill the air around him.

The moon hid itself behind a passing cloud and Qui-Gon felt a sob tear from his throat.

Qui-Gon rubbed the skin beneath his hands, scrubbing away days worth of grime. Obi-Wan's body was thin, but mostly unmarked, a torn fingernail, a nasty bruise ranging free form over his hip. Nothing deadly, but Obi-Wan's heart seemed to slow as he looked up at his master.

Obi-Wan floated, closed his eyes. Qui-Gon stared down until the pale stillness of that body became too much to bear.

"No!" Passion filled him, achingly familiar and proud, fierce. He yanked Obi-Wan onto shore. The fire began blazing with the mere touch his 'saber to the haphazardly stacked, mostly-dried wood. "No. Come into the light, Padawan. Let me warm you; let me touch you. I will drive the darkness back, open to me." Qui-Gon fought to awaken, arouse, to open those eyes again.

Qui-Gon stroked the pale limbs, drying them, rubbing them until they glowed in the moonlight. The flame brightened the still face, danced within the damp locks of hair. Heart pounding, Qui-Gon reached, searching for the sparks of life within their unraveling bond. The trials of the cave were harsh, but he would not lose. He could not lose his bright light to the shadows.

The wave of fear and anger emanating from Obi-Wan that hit Qui-Gon's mind stole away his breath and dimmed his sight for a moment. His response carried both the faith of a Jedi master drenched within the Light and the burning of a man threatened with utter loss.

Obi-Wan jerked underneath his hands, muscles moving as the pressing fingers scraped fiercely across his body, peeling, opening, demanding his attention. Qui-Gon stroked, caressed, searching out spots that made Obi-Wan shiver, groan, grow erect. Anything to keep Obi-Wan here and whole and his. Obi-Wan opened his eyes.

His padawan's eyes were glowing, the lightening sky reflected within them. Obi-Wan reached up, stretched, touched Qui-Gon's cheek. When he pulled his hand away, it was full of mud. The whispers came, shocked, along the bond.

Qui-Gon spun him around hard, biting into the shaking shoulders. Morning was here. Qui-Gon pushed, sending waves of love to Obi-Wan, eyes caught by the shock on his padawan's face, nowhere to look except the overwhelming brightness that was his padawan. You would give up? Fine, Padawan, but attend me. I will not let you go. Do you hear me, Obi-Wan Kenobi. Where you go, I follow.

Qui-Gon bent to kiss him, to anchor that body to the moment, to the sunrise. Qui-Gon struck quickly, Force moving within him, filling Obi-Wan's mind with a bolt of brilliance so shocking that his own eyes flew open and were filled with the rising sun.

They swayed, panting and stunned, arms gripping, fingers wrapped in hair, around backs, across strong necks. Almost there. One thrust, two, with every movement being one closer to completion and light. They clung to one another, lips buried in the hollows of throats, slipping over leathery skin. They looked down on their hands, looked at the contrast between them.

Obi-Wan couldn't remember quite when his eyes had become used to seeing his hands against his master's stomach.

Qui-Gon thought perhaps this passion happened when they had fallen, when the love and the joy and the bliss had covered their eyes, blinding them with the light.

They could see something ahead, lights sparkling in the darkness, growing sparks that pierced them. With every movement, the lights grew brighter, more distinct and they throbbed within them until their eyes would not move, could not bear the loss of the sight of a lover's face to blindness. Wrapping his body around Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon sank to the ground, feeling the sun rise to bathe the joined weight of boneless flesh.

They lay, embracing the sun-kissed flesh, breathing in promises called out in passion and need. Chills traveled through the lovers and they relished the sensation as they pressed together, forgetting where one body ended and another began.

Obi-Wan sank. Blue eyes, broken nose, callused hands and laughter and love -- he held each separate breath as a hymn to his love, the beauty around him. He didn't even notice that he was moving until he felt the hard flesh slip into his body.

Arms held him, stripping away the lies tacked to him, pushing him into a warm, clean cloak, holding his head for a kiss quickly before letting him free. He struggled, screaming, clawing at the fabric, pushing his body onto the erection within him. He filled himself with the smell of lust and heat and need and passion, let it drive his eyelids tighter together, feel the love fill him.

Opening his eyes, Obi-Wan watched his pale legs outline his master's shadowed face. He thrust against the body holding him, seeing nothing but the body moving above him, framed by his limbs and the dawning sun.

Obi-Wan floated, closed his eyes when tremors moving through his body became too much.

"Yes!" The growl was there, achingly beautiful and needy. A wave of heat hit the base of his neck, the center of Obi-Wan's chest, his groin as he was pulled from inside himself and laid out before Qui-Gon's gaze. "Yes. Come for me, Padawan. So warm. Let me touch you. So open to me." Obi-Wan fought to open his eyes.

His lashes were heavy, heavy as his hands, his feet, his head. The waves of warmth were a desperate fascination, a distraction in a long lifetime of loving.

"Oh, yes, my Obi-Wan. I will not let you go. Do you hear me? I will not let you go!"

The sheer joy bleeding from that voice shocked his muscles into motion as the pressing flesh scraped fiercely across his prostate, opening, demanding his attention. Obi-Wan shivered, feeling rough skin beneath his fingers, awakening nerves that had been waiting for his touch. Obi-Wan opened his eyes.

His master's eyes were dark, a streak of sweat trailing down the damp cheek. Obi-Wan reached up to brush it away and Qui-Gon's lips captured the digits, sucking strongly.

Obi-Wan widened his eyes and arched his back into the possibility of a dawning sun.

The hands that grasped him were hard, biting into his hips, flashes of light behind his eyes. Sparks bloomed within his head, nowhere to look without those bits of brightness that were his master. I would give up everything for you. Padawan, attend me. I cannot let you go. Do you hear me, Obi-Wan Kenobi? Where you go, I follow.

Their orgasms stole their breath and according to their will the world began to change, gain color. Obi-Wan felt the splash of Qui-Gon's seed within him, filling his mind with a bolt of brilliance so shocking that his eyes flew open and were filled with the rising sun.