Master Apprentice
Archive
|
|
|||
When his Sonju came through the big doorway into the dining room, Qui- Gon didn't even look up, because he knew what he would see. The tight expressions on the faces of Council members present, the concern in the eyes of friends as they too-carefully looked the other way, and the confusion of the children he sat near to, who didn't understand the punishment but were required to participate.
Obi-Wan walked with his customary grace and dignity, neither dawdling nor hurrying, gathering his food and joining Qui at the table they had begun to think of as 'theirs', sitting with a small flourish of cloak.
"I think we're getting the hang of this." The younger man suggested, speaking around a mouthful of hot rasbeenia mush. It was a childhood favorite that he still occasionally longed for and ate eagerly whenever it was offered, ignoring his mate's gentle teasing about 'comfort food'. The fact that it had been on the dining hall menu every night for the past week told Qui something important.
It had been an interesting week. Hard, in many ways. To simply walk down a corridor and feel the other minds he met shielding from him, that was painful. If he'd been completely cut off from mental contact, he knew he would have repented by now. But he always had Obi-Wan's mind there, never more than a thought away. Supporting him, encouraging.
The lack of contact with other minds had actually encouraged them to keep their bond wide open, to get as much stimulation from it as they could. A side affect they were sure the Council had not intended.
"Do you have childhood friends on the cooking staff?" The older man inquired dryly, studying Obi-Wan's tray with a lifted eyebrow. Besides rasbeenia mush, there were savory meat pies and the stewed squash that Obi- Wan made whenever he could.
"I would never have thought about it before, but I'd venture a yes." The younger man scooped up an overflowing spoonful of the purple-black mush and half-closed his eyes as he enjoyed it. Despite the circumstances, Qui-Gon chuckled, the deep sound making several of the knights at the nearest table glance over with frowns before they remembered to look away.
"I notice that none of my favorite foods have been added to the regular menu." Half a meat pie vanished in one bite and they shared hungry grins. Tables manners varied so much from culture to culture that the standard in the dining hall was pretty much anything goes. On many planets their eagerness would be taken as a compliment to the cook, and so they both ate with gusto. Swallowing after a few chews, the older man chuckled again. "I remember so well how proper you were when I accepted you as my Padawan. You took twice as long as I to finish a meal."
"It only took a few months of your example to break me of that habit, Master." Obi-Wan replied, still eating. They had spent the day in deep meditation, practicing advanced mental disciplines. That kind of workout was usually more tiring than a physical one.
"It seems that I have broken you of many habits. Including obedience to the Council." Realizing that he sounded tired, and mildly bitter, Qui-Gon shook his head. "I understand that it sounds paranoid, but it appears to me that there is some sympathy for you among the ranks. Did I not see Bant slip you a note in the hallway yesterday after astrophysics?"
Obi-Wan ducked his head and his cheeks colored faintly. Then he switched to mental speech, as had become their custom during the days of being shunned. Why should they speak aloud when no one else was going to speak to them?
Yes. She knows the true nature of our relationship. But she has been telling others that I follow you in this out of loyalty. Many of the new knights feel that you're being unfair, requiring me to suffer this with you, and she's encouraged this, thinking it will distract them from the real situation.
A friend like that can never be repaid. Qui-Gon answered. But i suppose it means I won't be finding Eutrisian Snowbird on the menu.
They exchanged wry grins. "Never mind that you don't eat it anymore." Obi-Wan said softly. Qui-Gon knew that the release of that self-imposed penance had made his lover happier.
Scraping his bowl for the last spoonful of mush, Obi-Wan swallowed it in a gulp, and stood, reaching for Qui-Gon's tray, and the empty dishes it held. Their appetites certainly hadn't suffered from the shunning.
So what will we do this evening? He asked while depositing the trays in the recycling chute. A couple of young padawans stepped hastily out of his way, flinching almost comically, as if being touched by the knight would somehow contaminate them. Qui-Gon stood, hands on the table, and his eyes flared as he stared at the two youngsters. They froze, pinned in place by his gaze. The tableau held for a few seconds, drawing the attention of the tables nearest, and then someone cleared their throat behind Qui-Gon and the padawans broke from the spell he'd woven, dashing with undignified haste to regain the safety of their masters' sides. Turning slowly, Qui-Gon wasn't surprised to find Mace standing a couple of tales over. He met his friend's eyes steadily. Isn't the shunning over when someone in charge acknowledges us? Obi- Wan asked, coming back to his side. Qui-Gon could feel his Sonju's need to press close, to hold and be held, but the younger man showed remarkable restraint and kept a few inches between them.
I don't think it's going to work that way this time. Still meeting Mace's eyes, Qui-Gon felt the stir in the Force around them. There was a faint hint of color in the air that seemed to gather around them.
Then Mace deliberately slid his eyes away, as if he'd never actually looked at his oldest friend, and Qui-Gon sighed. Yes, it hurt to have Mace treat him this way, but their situation couldn't be explained, and they couldn't change it. Not yet.
Will we ever be able to explain it? Obi-Wan asked as they walked out of the dining hall. He was following Qui, and not asking where they were going. It's not like the strictures against the relationship are going to be lifted. Eventually we will have to go back on the duty roster, my love.
I know. Qui-Gon turned into the big hall, the main corridor of the training section. Obi-Wan gave him a curious look. We aren't going to quarters? He sounded more intrigued than upset, so Qui-Gon continued, leading him toward the big training rooms, bypassing the series of smaller ones.
Do we need to? Right this minute? Pausing for a moment, Qui-Gon assessed his physical state. Yes, he wanted his Sonju, pretty badly after that confrontation with Mace, but the need wasn't overwhelming yet. I think it's time we started trying to manage this instead of letting it manage us.
You pick now to start acting responsibly? Obi-Wan grumbled, but Qui- Gon could feel the amusement beneath the words. True, they had spent the last week ignoring almost everything except the new union that absorbed them, only dealing with the reality of the situation when it was shoved into their faces. When it was just the two of them, the rest seemed to fade to insignificance.
I was thinking last night, after you slept. Qui-Gon shouldered his way through a large swinging door, into training room four. It was crowded at this time of day.
All the Jedi come out to play. Obi-Wan quipped behind him. He felt his lover's hand rest on his waist, linger there briefly, the touch shielded by his own bulk. You were thinking? Obi-Wan prompted.
About your concerns, last week, after I told Mace I wanted some time off. "Oh." Obi-Wan said aloud. The mental speech still wasn't their natural instinct, and when stressed they both tended to speak verbally. "You mean my conviction that we are shirking our responsibilities, tainting our souls, and walking near the Dark Side."
"Yes." Qui-Gon made a soft sound, feeling a little bit sad. His hand reached out, but he aborted the movement. There was a large audience in the room, none of whom were actually looking at them, but all were watching. "My most cherished wish is to not cause you pain, Obi-Wan." Speaking very low, his voice barely a rumble, he stepped closer to his Sonju. "And I have failed in that charge, repeatedly."
The younger man took a step as well, which put them face-to-face, not an inch between them. "We did not ask for this, my master. It was forced upon us, literally, and we can only do as the Force wishes."
"Then we will begin again." Qui-Gon swallowed heavily. "We've taken the time to wallow in our love. Now it's time to face the consequences, and begin dealing with them honestly." He wondered, briefly, if Obi-Wan knew exactly what it was he was saying. What he was proposing they do.
Their eyes met and Qui-Gon was moved, as always, by the depth of emotion in the changeable grey-green of Obi-Wan's. Those eyes told him that he was beautiful, that he was loved, that he was admired above all men. He hoped his own eyes were saying what he needed them to.
That he cherished Obi-Wan. That he adored him and was so proud of him. That he wanted him; every minute of every day, with every fibre of his being. That too want this much, and this deeply, was astonishing at his age, and he was deeply grateful.
His silent thoughts must have transmitted themselves through his eyes, because Obi-Wan smiled, sadly, and lifted both hands. They hovered in the air, and Qui-Gon let his eyes slide closed, and tilted his head back slightly. His hair, which he'd left free after the meditations, rustled over his shoulders, and he felt the intensity of the moment deep within his soul.
There will be no turning back. Obi-Wan said, and Qui knew that the younger man understood.
"No." He breathed aloud. Let them take this step, then. Here. In front of two hundred witnesses or more.
"I love you." Obi-Wan whispered. His hands clasped Qui-Gon's face gently, cradled it. Then he tipped the large head down, Qui-Gon feeling a sudden wash of disorientation, and their lips met.
He moaned, and his arms went around the smaller man, tightly. The Force burst into agitated color around them, he blinked his eyes open just long enough to see it, red and purple and angry-looking blue, a cloud of emotionally-induced energy that dipped and swirled.
The kiss lasted long enough. Long enough to feel the certainly of this action in his bones, which ached when he was cold. Long enough to feel the weight of shocked disapproval that raced through training room four. Long enough to taste Obi-Wan's tears on his lips as their tongues slipped together, making that connection, tasting each other's souls. Long enough to change everything.
When they broke apart; slowly, Qui-Gon ducking his head as Obi-Wan pulled away, taking little, sweet kisses from his now-closed lips, the sweetness intensified by the salt of tears, the whole room was silent. The weight of those stares was heavy. It burdened his shoulders and made him want to sink to his knees beneath it.
But he had to hold Obi-Wan up when the younger man seemed ready to do just that. One hand under his arm, the other resting lightly on his own lightsaber, Qui-Gon gave his Sonju a moment to recover and then gave him a little shake.
"Let's win the catwalk tonight, love." He said, openly, loud enough for those nearest, a group of knights with their first padawans, all young, to hear him. There were gasps and he heard a soft moan of anguish. Before he had a chance to locate the source Obi-Wan was taking his hand, tugging at it, and pulling him toward the walkway that led upwards, to the suspended catwalk forty feet above them.
"For the last time?" His lover asked quietly, and Qui-Gon felt a pang. He knew what it was, to ask the younger man to give this up. They had decided that there could be a life outside the order. Even a good life, in service to the light. But it would never be the life they lived here.
"For this time." He corrected gently. They did not know if it was the last time. Neither of them had seen the future or what it might hold, though Qui-Gon knew that farseeing wasn't one of his skills. Obi-Wan had trained with several different masters, Yoda included, to hone his abilities in that area, but he'd told Qui-Gon that he'd seen nothing relating to them.
The others in the room began moving again about the time they hit the walkway. Cloaks flaring, heads high, hands firmly clasped, they walked slowly up it. Above them, several young knights waited, unsure, their sabers held aloft as they watched the two approach.
This was their first time in room four since the shunning had begun. Would the rules of the catwalk outweigh the requirements of the shunning? It might not be wise to push a confrontation like this, and Qui wished silently that there had been someone else above them, a master, or even a Council member, instead of five very nervous-looking new-made knights.
Then one of the five stepped forward and Obi-Wan's hand tightened on his. Qui-Gon recognized him from the memories they shared; Bruck Chun, the childhood tormentor that had made Obi-Wan's initiate days such a misery. it seemed that Bruck had never forgiven Obi-Wan for succeeding where Bruck had failed; he'd become padawan to Qui-Gon Jinn, a place Bruck had desired for himself. The fact that he'd done it afterbeing relegated to the AgriCorps just rubbed salt into the wound. And Obi-Wan had achieved his knighthood nearly a year ahead of the older young man.
Raising his saber, the blade glowing a deep orange, Bruck offered a silent challenge. Always the leader, his little pack backed him up, all offering challenge.
There would be no words, because of the shunning, but Qui-Gon could see clearly what the new knight wanted to say. It was in his eyes. The taunts and insults he yearned to throw at Obi-Wan.
Glancing briefly at his lover as they shed their cloaks, Qui-Gon saw determination, and the quiet amusement he'd become so accustomed to. What is funny, love? He asked as they stepped onto the catwalk. As always he relished that first step, when gravity fell away and his focus narrowed to the rails beneath his feet and the opponent he faced.
You'd think Bruck would have outgrown that nonsense by now. Obi- Wan laughed into his mind. I just realized, he no longer has the power to hurt me. With my rank earned, and you at my side Bruck has become just another face in the crowd.
I'm pleased. Qui-Gon acknowledged. Most so that you put your rank first and our relationship second in this instance. That earned him a roll of Obi-Wan's expressive eyes. They squared off, on parallel rails only a few inches apart, both sabers lit and ready. The Force hummed around them eagerly. I gave up worrying about my place in your life a few weeks after you accepted me as padawan. Obi-Wan answered. Bruck made a quick charge and he parried skillfully. The other knight hopped a rail over to study the situation, gesturing to his companions to spread out. They surrounded the pair. It didn't take long for me to understand that you do not do things you don't want to. So if you took me as padawan, you were in no way forced into it. Which meant that I deserved it, and thus I deserved every promotion I recieved.
"Indeed you did, Obi-Wan!" Qui-Gon laughed out loud and turned to meet the attack from behind, three young knights engaging him in a rapid flurry of blows that never landed. "Indeed you did!"
His words and boisterous laughter seemed to put off his opponents, but Bruck was closing with Obi-Wan, the young woman by his side fighting just as fiercely, and they were caught up in the heady rush of battle. Playing, as Jedi will, but with a strong undercurrent of menaing. If they lost this battle, it would stand int he minds of everyone present as an omen for the nextgreat battle they must face, that of standing by their love in the face of the Council and dissapproval.
Normally they took the catwalk with a minimum of fuss and wound up battling each other in fun, but the odds were on their opponents' side and the young knights, especially Bruck, seemed inspired by the circumstances. They fought as if they were defending the honor of the Jedi and the code itself, when the only thing the pair had done was break an ancient rule against relationships between them.
But there was little chance they would actually succeed, no matter how hard they fought. Qui-Gon knew without pride that he and Obi-Wan were among the best swordsmen the order had to offer. He was ranked third in level 10, Obi- Wan had been first in level 9 for the last four cycles. And the younger man had realized, finally, that he would rise no higher, through no fault of his own. Qui- Gon was proud of him, that he had understood that and accepted it with no fanfare. Physiology was simply not on his side.
But now that wasn't an issue. Bruck held out the longest, and Qui-Gon held back, allowing Obi-Wan to battle him alone, unable to hold back a whoop of pride when Chun was soundly defeated, knocked cleanly from the catwalk with a flamboyant kick-and-slice combination that Obi-Wan had created on his own.
He grinned when Obi-Wan took a moment to gloat, staring down at Bruck as the other knight glared up at them, regaining his feet in a projected ring twenty feet below, then Qui-Gon turned to his Sonju and lunged, only half in jest, and Obi-Wan went to a defensive posture facing him, and they paused to breathe.
The catwalk was theirs.
Facing Obi-Wan, seeing the happiness and eagerness in his eyes, Qui-Gon prepared to attack in earnest, but then Obi-Wan's gaze shifted to behind Qui and his eyes widened and Qui-Gon, thinking that he was about tofall for the oldest trick in the book, looked over his shoulder, expecting to be attacked while his attention was thus divided. But his own eyes widened as he saw the group of older knights and younger masters that waited on the sidewall to be seen. Ten of them or more, they waited, and he leapt gracefully over several rails, Obi-Wan at his side, and together they faced this new challenge.
It was a much harder battle this time. These were seasoned fighters, with the experience of many missions to call on. The first thing they did was try to separate Qui and Obi, but the two resisted fiercely, remaining back-to-back as long as possible before breaking formation to whirl and leap to safety, catching their breath and then returning to that stance when they were followed.
The number of attackers was down to three and Qui-Gon caught the nearest one with a lucky kick to the chest when she looked toward the wall and an odd expression crossed her face. He was lucky, he realized that, but then he saw what had drawn her attention and swore silently, in several languages, knowing that Obi-Wan felt his anger in the instant before he released it to the Force.
The walkway was filled. Groups of senior padawans, knights, and masters lined it, from the floor all the way up to the catwalk. Apparently their mastery of the catwalk was going to be put to the test this day.
Parrying a swipe that Obi-wan had missed, Qui-Gon threw out a hand and shoved the second-to-last of their attackers off the rails with an almost negligable application of the Force, and a murmur ran through the watching crowd, the closest of which were only a few feet away, waiting their turn.
Apparently we are not to be allowed to win. Obi-Wan observed dryly as he dispatched the last of the ten, smoothly and efficiently. What do they hope to accomplish by this?
Together they retreated to the highest level of the catwalk, where three narrow rails joined to form a triangular platform barely six-inches across, framed by three loops higher than Qui-Gon's head.
To embarrass us, I believe. Qui-Gon responded, watching as some scuffling broke out on the walkway beneath them. It seemed that a second group of older knights and masters wanted the next shot and were trying to bully their way past the senior padawans that claimed it. The padawans had beent here first and were resisting.
"Let them come!" Obi-Wan shouted suddenly. "Will you deny them thier chance to fulfill your selfish needs?!" A master raised a fist, but did not answer, his teeth clenched tight to prevent words from escaping his mouth. The others backed off and the senior padawans, twenty or more, Qui-Gon didn't have the chance to count them, poured out over the rails. Bursting with the energy of youth and the excitement of being involved in this very unsual confrontation, they attacked immediately, without planning or structure. Back-to-back again, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan spun in circles, lashing out with swipes and kicks and jusidcious use of the Force.
In the first assault six fell, perhaps seven, and then they fell back to regroup. A female Cerean, one that Qui-Gon recognized as a friend of Obi-Wan's, someone he had spent time with before his knighting, took charge and organized the others into four groups that split up and came at them from four different sides. He noted that Ka-La-Nando, as was her name, chose to attack him rather than Obi-Wan and decided that his mate was correct in the assumption that his friends felt he was suffering for his loyalty to his master. What her thoughts were on their display of affection, he couldn't guess, but she wasn't going to attack Obi-Wan if she could help it. He was relieved to see that the younger man still had loyal friends. Perhaps those relationships would survive the changes that were to come.
This battle was harder than the first, but not as challenging as the second. Qui-Gon found himself wishing that the masters had persevered, because he was growing tired and they were still there, waiting their turn. He called upon the Force and a burst of fresh energy flowed into him, allowing him to charge the three facing him suddenly, putting them off-balance and avoiding the assault from behind himself at the same time.
Time seemed to stop and all he knew was Obi-Wan's presence in his mind and the feel of the battle, his body moving instinctively, as their enemies fell and then, with a suddeness that shocked him, they were triumphant again. His chest was heaving, sweat was dripping from him, his hair sticking to his face, getting into his eyes, blocking his vision. He shook his head, hard, and felt slightly dizzy, but it passed quickly.
There was warmth -- no, heat -- at his side and he looked down and met Obi-Wan's eye. The younger man was smiling, a bit grimly, and he reached with his free hand to push the damp hair off Qui-Gon's face.
The masters were coming. Led by the Wookie that had taken first in level 10, Master Grethika, they came quickly, smoothly taking their places, the veterans of countless battles.
Qui-Gon stole a kiss from Obi-Wan and set himself to face them. He had bested Grethika on more than one occasion, and faced him in the finals of the ranks-and-file, where the big Wookie had always defeated him.
But that was before. Obi-Wan told him. The younger man kissed him back and then pealed away from his side, dicing downwards in a seemingly-suicidal series of flips and twists, catching himself with one arm on the lowest rail and swinging up to land in a crouch, blade lit and extended. I think we'll need to change our tactics for this one, master.
I concur. Without the showy acrobatics that Obi-Wan had utilized, Qui- Gon also put space between himself and the first of their attackers. Fortunetaly, the catwalk could only be entered from one side, which gave them the chance to put the wall to their backs, metaphorically speaking. The wall was actually several meters away and to actually be backed up against it would probably mean thier loss.
Too separate and fight apart was a risky move, but would give them manueverability that their opponents did not have. The masters were hindered by their numbers as long as Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan kept moving.
And keep moving they did. Qui-Gon felt fatigue rise, his arms becoming leaden, even the scant weight of his laightsaber difficult to lift. He was scored once by Grethika, and again by another, shallow cuts at his waist and shoulder that barely bled, but stung and distracted him. If he were seriously injured the fight would be stopped, the others would refuse to continue. At least, that was the way it was supposed to be. Today he wasn't sure there were any guarantees.
Using hands and feet, lightsaber powered off and clasped between his teeth, he scrambled to the top of one of the tall loops, the steep grade making air harder to draw into his lungs. The battle with the Sith on Naboo had done no permanent damage, he'd been told, but at this moment, finding it so hard to draw breath, he wondered if that hadn't been an overly optimistic conclusion.
Thoughts of Naboo led tothoughts of Anakin and what would hapen to him after today. He would not be allowed to take the padawan-to-be with him, he was certain. And they would be leaving. If not this very night, then in the morning.
I will not stand before the Council and defend our bond. Obi-Wan's thought, defiant and firm, blasted into his head, and Qui-Gon winced, looking down, searching for his lover, who was currently a whirling flash of brown-and- cream. His hair caught the fading light of the sunset that gleamed through the transparent domed ceiling and Qui-Gon had to swallow at the sudden beauty as it was turned to dark gold.
No. We will go with dignity. He agreed. There were two attackers coming for him now and he rose, balancing precariously on the apex of the loop, the thin rail curved, dangerous footing.
He lit his blade and the first reached him. From a bad position, she was using her legs and prehensile tail to anchor herself while she attacked, and the one on the other side was in a quandry, unable to attack without losing his hold.
Very good, master. Obi-Wan complimented. He'd beaten back a challenge from three masters, and now paused to catch his breath, out of reach for the moment. Think we can go out in a blaze of glory? Obi returned, already engaging again.
I think we can hold the catwalk against all comers. Qui-Gon answered. The challenger on the left, who'd been having trouble holding on, was sent hurtling down, defeated. The female with the tail was still there, still giving him a run for his credits, but he could feel the Force rising in him. Feeding him strength and stamina. His arms felt strong again, his breathing had eased. Feel the way the Force is feeding us, Sonju. It wants us to win this battle. And they know it.
If they don't, they will soon. Obi-Wan answered, distracted by the skirmish he was in.
Qui-Gon was relieved to find himself fighting just as well as he had at the beginning by the end, when he faced Grethika with Obi-Wan by his side. the Wookie was the last of the chalengers left, though more crowded the walkway and waited their turn.
It seemed that every cut, every parry, every blow added to the strength he felt, and he knew Obi-Wan felt it too. He was pushing himself harder than he had in years, in a decade or more. Obi-Wan had surpassed his top speed and was simply a blur of motion.
It took both of them to conquer the Wookie, but they did it.
As he fell, an expression of shock on his heavily-furred face, a sound rose from those watching below, and the crowd on the walkway surged forward. Fifty knights or more, masters among them, they flooded out onto the catwalk, intent upon uspetting the bonded pair, and the two again reahced the high platform and faced them prepared to fight to the death, if necessary, but they were all Jedi and this should not happen....
"HOLD!" The bellow came from far below, came from the open door of the room, came from the angry dark face of Master Mace Windu, who stood, arms crossed on his chest, with Master Yoda beside him, and frowned up at all of them.
"How you would punish them, is this?" Yoda's voice was quiet, but everyone in the room heard it. Heads bowed, and shame flowed. "Job of the Council this is. Needed your help is not."
"Look." Mace pointed upwards and all heads tipped back. Qui-Gon gasped suddenly, felt Obi-Wan press to his side.
Above them, at the nexus of the domed ceiling, barely visible against the dark night sky above, a cloud gathered. It was dark and ominous and completely out of place.
"Go to your rooms." Mace spoke, still angry but his glare was directed at Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan. Openly the older man held his mate close to his body, an arm around Obi-Wan's waist, taking comfort in his physical presence. "Go to your rooms, all of you. Training room four is closed indefinitely. Closed until it can be cleansed of the shadow that has been cast over it."
He blames us. Obi-Wan was stunned, and hurt. We did nothing wrong. Not in this. It was their choice to challenge us in these numbers.
I think we are learning why bonds like ours were outlawed. Qui-Gon told him, fingers stroking the younger man's side soothingly. I suspected things would come to a head soon. Are you ready?
He didn't have to ask if Obi-Wan knew what they had to be ready for.
I will not defend us to them. The thought was as strong and certain as it had been minutes ago, during the battle. Those long minutes during which everything had changed again.
Then I will make one call, and we will go. Their challengers were filing off the catwalk, despondency and shame coloring the Force around them. Looking around, Qui-Gon saw that their own personal little cloud was still present, swirling slowly in the familair shade of lavendar and green, the colors muted by the emotion around them. They had not been darkened.
Go where? There was a touch of humor in the mental voice and Qui- Gon looked down into his Sonju's eyes. You haven't told me anything.
They began walking, Obi-Wan slipping behind Qui-Gon, his hand fisted in the back of the bigger man's tunic. The side walkway was emptying rapidly, and the floor was clear of padawans and all but those descending.
Mace stood beside Yoda, resolutely not looking at them. The crowd parted around the two Council members and went out the doors. Then they were all gone and Qui-Gon was stepping off the walkway, throwing his cloak around his shoulders in a single graceful movement, enjoying the appreciative murmur of Obi- Wan's thoughts, and he came to a stop before Mace.
"Master Windu." He said formally. Obi-Wan took his place by Qui-Gon's side. "My Master." Qui-Gon bowed low to Yoda, who did not respond.
"Now I understand." Mace said slowly, and there was pain in his voice. Qui-Gon knew what he meant and tried to ease that hurt.
"I always enjoyed our time together, Mace, and I would have given you anthing I could." Obi-Wan's sigh tickled his ears. "But I can no longer pretend that I can touch anyone but my Sonju."
"What know you of Sonju." Yoda scoffed. His gimmer stick tapped at the floor, once, twice. "Fallen into this, you have. Misunderstood. In arrogance, assumptions you have made."
"No, my Master." Qui-Gon allowed his sorrow to show. Truly, the tears in his eyes were honest ones. His own pain was deep. To leave his master, his friends, all that he had known for nearly sixty years. "It is you who do not understand. The Force wills this. We resisted as long as we could... but the Force chooses what it will."
"The Council must discuss this." Mace said, his deep voice still tinged with anger. "Return to your quarters -- your separate quarters -- and we will contact you when your presence is required."
"No." Obi-Wan spoke up. There was defiance in the tone, but apology as well. "We will not."
"We will not be separated, Mace." Qui-Gon said quickly, his arm stealing around Obi-Wan's waist and giving him a warning squeeze. he didn't know if the Council would go so far as to imprison them, and he didn't want to find out. "We will go to my quarters, together."
"That is unaccepatable." Mace barked.
"Allowed, it will be." Yoda said only a second later. His large eyes gazed at Qui-Gon and the sorrow there made the big man want to weep. olding both hands over the top of his stick, the small Jedi master leaned on it, ears drooping. "Discuss this, we will. But together they may remain."
"For now." Mace said, his anger increased by having Yoda countermand him. "Qui-Gon, I am deeply dissapointed in you."
"Not as much as I am in you, old friend." Qui-Gon returned, drawing Obi- Wan closer to himself. With one last look at Yoda, he led the younger man around the two and out of training room four.
Master Yoda knows. Obi-Wan said, sounding tired and unhappy.
Yes. He is giving us the chance to leave quietly, before the Council can make any arrangements. Not that he believes we have a true soul union, but because he is my master, and he loves me. As sson as they turned off the large hall, Qui-Gon stopped at a communications station. His hand hovered above it, hesitating.
Are you going to tell me where we're going? Obi-Wan asked. The humor was gone, replaced by the weight of reality. I'm going to let you decide, Obilove. Turning to him, Qui-Gon brushed a kiss across his sweaty forehead. Of those I contacted, only two seemed truly eager to have us, and to have a place for us. Bail Organa would welcome us to Alderaan with open arms, and he's got enough clout in the Senate that it wouldn't even affect his standing.
What's the other choice? Obi-Wan reached up and brushed the hair from Qui-Gon's face once again, tenderly, smiling at him sadly.
Naboo. Amidala insists that we are always welcome there, no matter what.
But our presence could put a strain on her and the rebuilding efforts. Obi-Wan was thoughtful. Not to mention that there's not a lot to do out that way.
We will not be fugitives. Qui-Gon assured him. Master Yoda will see that we are not pursued. We might even be able to continue working with the Jedi, if not as.
There's a lot of golden wine on Alderaan. Obi-Wan smiled suddenly, like the sun breaking through the clouds. And access to a lot of diplomatic disputes. Would we be working for Bail directly?
No, we would be ambassadors-at-large. Mercenaries, in essence. The Prince has promised us a place to live and a generous stipend to support us while we decide where we are needed. Qui-Gon radited gentle amusement at Obi- Wan's thoughts on wine, and the uses thereof.
Then Alderaan it is.
Qui-Gon's hand tapped over the panel and a green light blinked once. He turned, and pulled Obi-wan to him. The transport will be here in a few minutes. Is there anything from quarters that you must have?
Laying his cheek on Qui-Gon's chest, Obi-Wan exhaled slowly. No. Though I admit to hoping that our things will be sent to us. Perhaps Bant would pack it up, I know she would be careful.
Perhaps. Qui-Gon agreed. After another moment of the embrace, he released the younger man and stepped away, taking his hand. Then we will go.
Oops. Obi-Wan's chuckle made him stop, and look back. A faint outline was impressed into the marble floor where they had stood. Their bootprints, outlined and filled in pale green with lavendar flecks.
We're certainly decorative. Qui-Gon sighed. Must find a way to prevent that.
At least in other people's homes. Obi-Wan agreed.
Hand-in-hand, they walked directly out of the Temple and to the nearest landing pad. Coruscant hummed aorund them, busy and bustling, and they looked upon it together, knowing that they might never see it again.
How was the transport able to get here so quickly? Obi-Wan asked as it landed. A small cruiser, it looked fast and sleek.
Bail told me that he would have one waiting in case we needed it. He also said that it's ours to use as we need. Ours? Boarding, Obi-Wan took a minute to look around. There were two cabins and a small galley. The pilot was a fluffy Trendot that gave them a wave with one of her four arms but didn't look up.
Ours. Qui-Gon repeated, then looked out the nearest porthole. And there's Mace, right on schedule. Obi-Wan joined him and their faces pressed close together as they watched the Council member storm out onto the landing pad.
How did he know? Pressing closer to Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan kissed the back of his neck. The need, subjugated for most of the day, rose in them and washed over them in a wave of sudden heat.
I knew he would figure it out. He probably had someone check my quarters. There was a sensation of lift as the crusier rose, and Qui-Gon turned to take Obi-Wan into his arms. Why don't we go find out which cabin is ours?
Good idea. The younger man groaned aloud. With both hands under his ass, Qui-Gon lifted him, Obi-Wan wrapping his legs around the taller man's waist and holding onto his shoulders while they kissed. There was a muffled giggle when Qui-Gon backed him into the wall of the narrow corridor, then Obi-Wan was palming the hatch to a cabin door and it opened, and he looked over Qui-Gon's shoulder, with a groan, the older man taking advantage of his position and latching onto his neck, sucking strongly. Oh, gods, Qui.
Is this our room?
There's nothing in it... my guess is yes.
Good. Carrying him in, Qui-Gon dropped Obi-Wan to the bed, which was't huge but would hold both of them, and lay on top of him, using his size and weight to hold Obi-Wan down when he began to squirm.
"Shh, shh, easy, love, give me a moment..." He crooned, using both hands to pull off the sash and tunics that kept him from the smooth golden skin he craved. Obi-wan's hands were just as busy and soon they both had chests bared and erections freed and Qui-Gon was pushing Obi-Wan's knees, bound by his trousers, into the air.
"Yes,yes, yes." Obi-Wan moaned low in his throat. The position was awkward but Qui-Gon held his knees in one hand and gripped his own cock with the other, leaning over Obi-Wan and pressing it into the younger man's entrance, making him moan and thrash harder. "I want you, Qui-Gon, need you, want you, harder, please, harder!"
"In a moment, love." Panting, Qui-Gon held himself still, feeling the heat of Obi-Wan's tight close around him. There were so many ways to describe this feeling, but the best was to say that he was a part of Obi-wan. He savored it, eyes half-closed, hips tense with the need to thrust.
Obi-Wan arched beneath him, hands scrabbling at Qui-Gon's shoulders. "Don't wait - move, please, you gotta move!"
"As you wish." With a whisper Qui-Gon did as he was asked. Obi-Wan's knees were folded tight to his chest, his cock was trapped against Qui-Gon's belly, and Qui-Gon was as deep into him as he could get. He pulled out halfway and then thrust back in, hard, and grunted when Obi-Wan wailed loudly, hands fisting in the bedclothes. They were blue, Qui-Gon hadn't even noticed before.
He thrust again, and Obi-Wan's howl went up a notch. His head was back, his teeth were clenched, he looked like a man in great pain, but Qui-Gon knew from his thoughts -- or lack thereof -- that he was lost in ecstasy. One more hard thrust to his prostate and Obi-Wan would come.
He gave it to him, hard and fast and, as he had anticipated, Obi-Wan came, thick fluid splattering out between them, coating Qui-Gon's belly and chest, and then Obi-Wan sagged into the bed, gasping for air. But Qui-Gon didn't stop. Primed by the battle and the ripples of his lover's inner muscles, he balanced himself on both hands and pounded into the younger man, the world greying out around him.
He was in no hurry, but the need rode him as he rode Obi-Wan and all too soon he felt the coiling in his groin, the weight in his balls, and he groaned, deep and rough, and thrust once more, holding himself up on shaking arms as long as he could, the release thundering through him like a herd of Fambaa.
He gasped, shudderng, and gasped again, his lungs constricted by the power of the orgasm. Obi-Wan leaned up, took his head in both hands, and kissed him deeply, further depleting his oxygen, but he moaned in approval and kissed back hungrily.
At last his muscles unlocked and he sank to the bed, laying half on top of his mate, sucking air in big heaving breaths, feeling Obi-Wan's amusement in the bond between them. It made him open his eyes and give him a half-hearted glare.
Needed that, did you? The younger man asked with a teasing grin. Almost as much as you did, I think. He teased back, taking another kiss, Sweeter and softer, it was no less fulfilling. Obi-Wan seemed to agree, he leaned up into it, his hand stroking Qui-Gon's sweaty chest soothingly.
"Perhaps we should investigate the cleaning facilities?" He asked when he finally pulled back and laid down again, pulling Obi-Wan close and pillowing his head on his own shoulder.The younger man sighed, kissed his neck, and snuffled in.
"Later. I don't want to think about anything right now. I just want to lie here and be with you."
"As you wish." Qui-Gon said softly, hearing the sadness in the tone. It was harder than he'd thought it would be, to leave all they knew behind. The comfort and security of home and hearth, thier kind and kin. "There will be plenty of time to investigate the ship later."
"Mm-hm." Obi-Wan's reply was merely noise, meant to meet a social obligation. It made his lover smile and squeeze him and say, gruffly;
"And plenty of time for lovemaking and being together. As much as we want."
"Then it's worth it." Tilting his head up, Obi-Wan asked mutely for a kiss. Qui-Gon gave it, and kept giving it.
Being with you is worth any price. He told Obi-Wan. Anything we might have to pay. He felt the discomfort those words caused his lover, but didn't break the kiss, or stop his hands from wandering as his body began to rouse from its satiation. Any price.
There was no agreement, but no argument either, and he accepted that as enough, for now. end