Master Apprentice Archive Moving On Quick search:

Moving On

by Sajasma Lee (sajasma@yahoo.com)

Archive: Master Apprentice, my own (http://sajasma.topcities.com), anyone else: hey if you want it, you can have it, just give me a heads up

Rating: NC-17

Category: AU, h/c

Pairing: Q/O, Q/Mace

Feedback: Would be wonderful.

Disclaimer: If I owned them, I'd never share. So fortunately, I don't.

Summary: Qui-Gon tries to let go of the past with a new mission.

Warnings: Character Death. First time post here, so please don’t be too harsh.

Author's Notes: Thanks goes out to jl_foxy and the fabulous Rose for their magnificent betas and Rose’s calm and steady presence in the face of a first-time poster's nervous jitters. And can’t forget: the title of this sucker. Without her, I’d probably just end up calling it "Saj’s first story" or something equally as idiotic. Any mistakes contained in this piece are strictly mine, because I can’t leave well enough alone.

Also, the structure of this story may be a little confusing. Line Breaks indicate flashbacks.

They had landed without complications, which was somewhat remarkable considering neither Qui-Gon Jinn nor Mace Windu were renown for their piloting skills. At least Mace had some measure of skill or they would have had to resort to bringing in a third party, which would've further put their undercover mission in jeopardy.

"We're in," Mace announced while shutting down the ship's power systems methodically. When he didn't receive an immediate reply, he turned to Qui-Gon sitting in the co-pilot's chair, clearly lost in thought.

Lightly, he touched Qui-Gon's shoulder, enough to startle the Jedi master from his reverie.

"We're here," he repeated more gently.

Qui-Gon gave him a sheepish smile and stood up, stretching out the kinks and aches in his back. Mace watched him for a moment, admiring the other man's naturally graceful physique, even at this age in his life. Oh, Mace knew he had aged fairly well himself, but Qui-Gon still gave off that bright spark from his youth, a ball of blazing energy ready for action.

Qui-Gon caught him staring and paused. "Well, are you coming?"

Mace swallowed his own embarrassed grin and followed Qui-Gon out of the ship's cockpit. He thought about their upcoming assignment, his first mission out in the field for longer than he cared to remember. It felt good to be out of the stuffy Council Chamber and back in the rough and gritty starships and trenches he had been familiar with as a newly-made knight. He felt even better working with his long-time friend, whom he never got to see as often as he wanted to these days. It felt like coming home, if home meant stale rations, little sleep and cramped quarters. Mace gave himself an inward shake of his head. He had become much too accustomed to the privileged councilor's life. It was good to have a change.

The two masters gathered their packs and made sure their lightsabers were carefully hidden. Mace straightened his civilian clothing self-consciously, much to the wry amusement of Qui-Gon.

"They're smugglers, Mace, not foreign dignitaries."

"Just trying to have a bit of class, my friend."

"Mace, you could wear a sewage worker's uniform and still look smooth."

Mace showed surprise at Qui-Gon's quietly uttered remark, but didn't have time to say anything in response before Qui-Gon quickly changed the subject.

"We need to make contact with Sajinn Debellico, owner of a small spaceport bar. She knows the right people we need to get in touch with."

Mace nodded, suddenly feeling like a nervous padawan again, such a stark contrast from his previous warm feelings of familiarity. Sure, he had experience, but as he had said before, it had been a long time. He wasn't young anymore, could he still do this?

Sensing his apprehension, Qui-Gon placed a large, comforting hand on Mace's shoulder, much like Mace had done earlier. "Will you be okay with this?"

"With you here, I can do anything."

Qui-Gon averted his dark blue eyes from the compliment, but Mace caught the small smile tugging at the corners of his friend's mouth. With another reassuring pat, Qui-Gon opened the hatch and the Gellriche spaceport was revealed to them.

It was as Qui-Gon expected - drab and dirty. Gellriche's atmosphere was unhabitable so the spaceport was completely enclosed underground, only accessible through the moon's large caves and craters. As a result, the spaceport's environment was completely synthetic and carefully controlled. There were no windows to look out and the only lighting was from the sickly artificial panels that ran through the whole port, which spanned most of the moon's small interior.

Because of its undesirability, Gellriche only attracted the lowly smugglers, travelers and occasional, desperate soul. It was a place one could lose one's self in, every bit as seedy and dangerous as the lower levels of Coruscant.

Precisely why they were there.

Rumor had it that there were illegal shipments of drugs being smuggled into the Republic and that big, corporate heads were making significant profits. He and Mace planned to infiltrate the smuggling ring in suspicion in hopes of gaining more information on the illegal shipments. They had flimsy covers as two small time smugglers, but weren't planning on causing enough suspicion to instigate a background check.

It was considered a fairly mild assignment in which Mace could get his feet wet again and Qui-Gon could forget just a little bit more and ease his way back into the lone life of a Jedi master.

Qui-Gon wished he hadn't thought of it. After all, he was here to move on. He massaged a pain that had sharply sprung up in his chest, but otherwise showed no other emotion.

With another glance at Mace, the two of them exited the ship.

It had all started so quietly, as things of great consequence often do, so unsuspecting and malevolent that Qui-Gon didn't think too much of the slight dizziness his bonded had felt during a routine mission to settle trade disputes.

Later, he would think about that once innocent time and curse his stupid, ignorant self. Through many months of broken meditation, Qui-Gon had pinpointed that particular time as the turning point, his last chance to change things and he had wasted it. The bitter guilt would forever plague him.

They had been sitting at the negotiations table for a better part of the day when Qui-Gon felt the wave of nausea from his bonded and placed a concerned if not discreet hand on Obi-Wan's leg beneath the table. Obi-Wan had become very pale and swayed perilously, unnoticed by the obnoxiously loud negotiators busily trying to push their own agendas.

Are you all right, Obi-Wan?

Obi-Wan had placed a warm hand over Qui-Gon's, sending waves of reassurance back. I'll be fine. I'm just tired.

Qui-Gon wasn't sure what to make of that. Over the last two weeks he had noticed a change in Obi-Wan's demeanor. His padawan was tired more easily of late, his skin had grown paler. He was sleeping more and eating less, resulting in a body that was growing increasingly thinner and dark circles beneath his usually bright and sparkling eyes. The stress of back to back missions was finally get to him, despite youthful stamina.

One more hour, my Padawan, then we will call negotiations to a close and retire.

I'd like that, thank you, Master.

Realizing that nothing more could be done for Obi-Wan while on this mission, save for making him get some rest as soon as negotiations finished for the day, Qui-Gon vowed to make an appointment with the healers at the Temple.

And so they had waited while negotiations and voices droned on without ever making real progress. The dizzy spell had passed and Obi-Wan was once again the attentive and alert Jedi mediator he was groomed to be. Gradually, Qui-Gon's worries dissipated as the hour wore on and the ache behind his eyes increased.

That had been that and neither of them had thought much of it at all.

Upon entering the rooms they had cheaply rented, Mace groaned, then thought about how un-Jedi-like he sounded and decided he didn't care.

"I wanted this. I did," he said aloud, more to remind himself than reassure Qui-Gon. He let his pack fall to the questionably clean floor and fell backwards onto one of the two small beds. The mattress was thin and hard as steel and Mace grimaced. His feet hung off the edge.

The room was small and cramped. The port had limited space as it was and apparently, the original planners decided that visitors should spend more time in the bars than in their rooms. Qui-Gon had to inch along the walls around Mace's hanging feet to get to his side of the room. He gently laid his pack on his bed.

"Just like the good old days, Mace."

"I don't remember being this tall," Mace grumbled, indicating his feet. "Or maybe it's the beds that have grown shorter."

"Maybe we should protest."

"Maybe." Mace watched Qui-Gon go about organizing their supplies. Qui-Gon neither paused nor looked up from his activities. His shields were up and firmly in place, but that only led to Mace's further unease. "How are you holding up, Qui-Gon?"

Qui-Gon looked up with an annoyed expression on his face. "You know, I get tired of people asking me that."

Mace held up his hands in a placating gesture, emotionally retreating. "Hey, sorry. You're right. I'm just concerned, you know. I'm your friend."

Qui-Gon didn't say anything but appeared to be in deep contemplation. It gave time for Mace to take in the changes that had occurred in him. Qui-Gon had aged more in the past year than Mace could even recall. There was more silver in his hair, deeper lines in his face and a hunch to his shoulders that made him seem like he was carrying the weight of the galaxy's troubles across his back. But perhaps the biggest change in his friend, the thing that Mace sorely missed the most, was the lively blue eyes. Now there was nothing more than a dull disinterest and perhaps a hidden sorrow that only hinted at the overwhelming sadness Qui-Gon carried with him at all times.

"You know that I'm always here for you, if you want to talk about it," Mace offered, knowing that Qui-Gon would refuse it. It had been this way since Obi-Wan died. Qui-Gon had quietly turned away from everyone and everything and shut himself away, not seeing anyone for weeks at a time.

It was with great difficulty that he and Yoda were able to rouse Qui-Gon from his self-imposed isolation and bring him back from the edge of despair. It had taken even longer to get Qui-Gon even marginally interested in the things he had once actively participated in. To bring Qui-Gon even to this point - active in the field again - was a success he and others had long worked hard for.

"I'll be fine," Qui-Gon said in a tone that closed the subject. "Ten minutes and we will begin looking for Sajinn's bar. I'll be in the 'fresher, washing up."

"Qui-Gon, if I've said..."

"Forget it, Mace. I take each day one at a time, that is all."

It was a meager answer to Mace's concerns, but he knew he wouldn't be able to get anything more. He didn't watch Qui-Gon go into the 'fresher, only heard the clang of the manual door being slammed shut.

At least they had a 'fresher, Mace grumbled.

Qui-Gon splashed cold water onto his face, relishing the relief to his flushed skin. The water droplets fell from his beard and he ran a hand across the hard bristles to wipe the excess fluid away. He didn't have time for a full shower, so he would have to put up with the grimy, traveling feeling for a little while longer.

Obi-Wan, who had a penchant for staunch cleanliness, would make a beeline for the 'fresher and insist upon washing when he could. "You never know when you'll be able to get another," he had smirked and how right he had been. When missions went awry and Qui-Gon and his padawan had more often than not found themselves running through mud and rain to escape hostile locals, washing was not a luxury.

It always hurt to think about Obi-Wan and time did not dull the ache or the incredible sense of loss. He looked into the mirror and stared into the image of his reflected self. Older, sadder, perhaps a little worse for wear. Certainly better than he had been just a few months ago. The lighting in the bathroom made his pallor a sickly hue, as drawn as Obi-Wan's had been, not so long ago.

Stop it, Qui-Gon told himself. You torture yourself and it brings you nothing but pain.

Qui-Gon did not want to remember. He was supposed to forget, after all. It was what Yoda wanted, it was what Mace wanted and it was what he wanted.

Still, though, the memories came unbidden. So many memories and all not without their own special sorrow, their own individual, hurtful sadness.

The first time. They were returning home and he and Obi-Wan sat in the ship's common area, reviewing their reports in an effort to kill the long hyperspace journey ahead of them.

They sat next to each other, comfortably close; Qui-Gon relished the delicious heat emanating off the body next him. It was moments like these that he secretly treasured. After a year of tiptoeing around each other and the obvious attraction between master and apprentice, their relationship had finally culminated and after another year - with more obstacles and hesitation - they had bonded. He was supposed to be paying attention to the notes Obi-Wan was reading aloud to him, but was currently entranced by way Obi-Wan's enticing lips moved when he talked.

"Both sides did agree to share the lands bordering the main city, however, which is a small victory, at least."

"Mmm-hmm."

"And...are you paying attention?" Obi-Wan looked up from his data reader and was face to face with his Qui-Gon's face and Qui-Gon's lips.

"Of course." Qui-Gon didn't take his eyes off of his bondmate's beautifully serious face and before Obi-Wan could respond, he silenced those lips with his own.

Obi-Wan's eyes closed and he moaned softly, distracted from whatever he had been about to say. All was forgotten in the feel of warm and soft. The sensation only increased when Qui-Gon pushed his tongue past his lips and invaded Obi-Wan's mouth, tasting, exploring and taking Obi-Wan's mind off the finishing work of their latest mission. His hand came up to caress Qui-Gon's cheek, to pull him closer. Qui-Gon wrapped an arm around his waist and brought him even closer into contact. The feel of Qui-Gon's body against his was electrifying, dizzying with fire.

Qui-Gon was lost with the feel of Obi-Wan against him. They barely had any time alone during the arduous negotiations and he wanted nothing more than to take his beloved to bed and touch every part of him. Obi-Wan's mouth was hot and Qui-Gon wanted to taste more, but the need to breathe forced him to pull away slightly.

He opened his eyes and the crimson drops filled his vision and startled mind. Obi-Wan's nose was bleeding.

"Qui-Gon? What? Wha-"

Upon seeing Qui-Gon's continued look of horror, Obi-Wan was about to ask him again when he sensed the warm wetness. His hand flew to his nose and his fingers came away with blood.

His eyes met Qui-Gon's in a shared look of fear.

"I..."

His first reaction was to hide his bleeding nose from Qui-Gon and he ducked his head while simultaneously covering his face with his hand. Drops of scarlet fell between his fingers and onto the data reader screen.

"Obi-Wan."

He tried to push Qui-Gon's concern away, tried to brush off the whole thing when another sharp wave of dizziness came over him, sending his world dangerously spinning.

"Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon repeated with more intensity, gripping the other man tightly.

"Qui-Gon...I don't feel so good...I..."

Obi-Wan never finished as the world closed in around him and he pitched forward into Qui-Gon's lap.

Qui-Gon stared blankly through the glass, watching as a healer carefully examined his padawan. The healer held Obi-Wan's face in her gentle hands, sending Force probes to search out any irregularities in the body below her. Obi-Wan stared back at her impassively, complying to her softly spoken commands with little emotion on his carefully neutral face.

He hated being here, on the other side. He wanted to be near Obi-Wan, giving him his steady support, but the healers had stubbornly refused even his most ardent demands. The last thing they needed, they said, was a hysterical bondmate complicating things and over-dramatizing events. Qui-Gon had become angry, but the healers could not be swayed. Let us hear it from Obi-Wan, they told him.

Obi-Wan had come to a little while later on board their starship. The bleeding had stopped and though he had felt weak and light-headed, he otherwise seemed fine. Still, Qui-Gon wasn't taking any chances as he made Obi-Wan stay in bed the entire journey back.

He had rushed Obi-Wan to the healer's wing as soon as they had landed, even refusing to let his padawan walk, much to Obi-Wan's weak protests. They must have made quite a sight, Qui-Gon carrying his embarrassed and complaining bondmate and padawan down the halls of the Temple while Qui-Gon threw fierce glares at anyone who appeared as if they would impede his progress.

And now he stood on the other side, in the waiting area, tense and yet strangely hollow. The soothing light colors of the medical wing did nothing for him and the anti-bacterial scent left him chilled. A blanketing silence smothered the entire wing and beings spoke in low, calm voices. He ignored all the attendants who asked if he wanted to wait in the waiting area, just stood there, waiting to hear what was wrong with his Obi-Wan.

The healer emerged after some time and her soft eyes immediately locked on Qui-Gon. She approached him and Qui-Gon took a deep breath and held it.

"There's nothing seriously wrong with him," the healer started out, wanting to settle Qui-Gon's biggest fears first. She held up a hand before Qui-Gon could speak. "Fatigue, stress maybe. A bloody nose is not uncommon in these kinds of situations. Perhaps an external force broke a blood vessel and caused the bleeding to start."

Qui-Gon shook his head. "No, there were no external forces. And he's been having these dizzy spells for sometime now. Look at him, he's pale and thin and tired. This is something serious."

The healer leveled him with a condescending look. "And how many missions have you been on, back to back? How many of those were restful?"

Qui-Gon had to look away guiltily.

"Obi-Wan is only human, Master Jinn, and we all need our rest some time. His fatigue may be nothing more than poor eating habits and continual exposure to stressful situations. I recommend asking the Council for a rest period. Believe me, it will make all the difference in the universe."

Qui-Gon gave her a disbelieving look and the healer sighed.

"Just try it. Get some rest and keep Obi-Wan restricted to light duties. You're due for a respite anyway. Besides, there are still a few tests I'm waiting to hear back from and it would be good of you to stick around."

Faced with that reasoning, Qui-Gon had no choice but to concede. He glanced back at Obi-Wan getting dressed in the other room and made a mental note to put in a word to the Council as soon as possible. But first, he was going to take his padawan home.

"And who might you be?" Sajinn asked, leaning against the bar she had just wiped down in an effort to keep it clean. Her efforts were in vain, however, as alcohol was sloshed over cup rims in drunken, dramatic gestures. Annoyed, she wiped up the latest spills.

"I'm Windu, this is Jinn," Mace said, indicating Qui-Gon next to him. Last names would suffice here and wouldn't be questioned. Smugglers rarely revealed their names and no one would push the issue.

"Sajinn," she replied, smoothing a lock of chin-length brown hair behind an ear.

Sajinn was a human female, and petite, much to Mace's surprise. But her well-muscled biceps told volumes of her ability to handle herself, that and the two blasters that hung at her waist and Force knew how many other hidden weapons she carried in her loosely fitting clothes. Her features were dark and not particularly striking, but practical, if one's face could even be called that. Her tone was levelheaded and businesslike with an underlying threat not to mess with her, a must-have when dealing with drunken smugglers day in and day out.

"What can I get you?" she asked, throwing her rag on the bar surface. Her eyes told them that they had better be ordering.

"Correllian brandy - two." Mace pulled a stool out and sat with Qui-Gon mirroring his actions next to him.

As Sajinn went to prepare their orders, Mace looked around. The bar was small, but reasonably well kept. It was as drab and lifeless as the rest of the port with cheap furnishings and cheap alcohol, but still some stragglers remained uncomfortably situated, even this late at night according to the Gellriche time standard.

"Brandy, two," Sajinn said, placing two glasses in front of Mace and Qui-Gon with little finesse. Mace shared a glance with him before daring to taste his beverage, knowing it would be bad, bracing himself for the worst, and still having to suppress a cringe at the horrible taste. He was a smuggler, used to cheap, bad-tasting alcohol.

Sajinn leaned an elbow on the bar and studied her two latest customers. "So, I've never seen you two around here before. Where ya from?"

"Just came from Kessel," Mace easily lied, "running some small-time shipments. Our ship needed a few repairs so we had to stop here."

It was the kind of answer that Sajinn had heard many times before and she accepted it without further question. Seeing as how it was almost closing time, she helped herself to an ale and lazily leaned against the bar. Still, she was interested in these rather handsome newcomers as they at least provided her with something to do.

"Does he speak?" she asked, waving her glass at Qui-Gon, who was once again lost in thought beside Mace. Her ale sloshed over the rim and splashed on the counter, but she ignored it.

Mace elbowed Qui-Gon in the ribs and Qui-Gon caught himself. "Very well," Qui-Gon replied and took a sip of his brandy.

Mace inwardly grinned at the obvious attempt his friend was making to keep from grimacing.

Qui-Gon thought it was time to get down to business and sat up a bit straighter, leaned in a bit closer. He spoke in a low, quiet voice. "While we're here, we were wondering if you knew anybody that needed some help running supplies, you know, people who need to unload a shipment or two?"

Sajinn moved her eyes over to a clearly inebriated man sitting alone at one of the tables. "Ask any of these hapless souls, Jinn. All of them come here to drown out their sorrows in alcohol. They might be able to help you out."

Mace leaned in too, though still trying to give off the appearance of being casual. "We're looking to...increase our runs. I'm talking about a certain drug operation. We want in."

If Sajinn knew what he was referring to, she gave no indication, although Mace got the distinct impression that she did.

"The bar's pretty empty this time of night. Come back a little later and there should be more people that you can talk to."

Mace tipped his drink. "Thank you, little lady."

Sajinn scowled but before she could say anything, Qui-Gon stood up with his drink and walked away. She followed him for a moment with her eyes, watching him take a seat next to a lonely patron.

"What's wrong with your friend there?"

Mace turned his head slightly to glance at Qui-Gon, who had begun chatting up the other occupant at the table. "He recently lost someone close to him."

"A lover?"

"You could say that."

"I know how that is," Sajinn began wiping down the bar again distractedly, "but you get over it eventually. We all do."

Well, there's no time like the present to begin making friends, Mace thought. "What's your story?"

She snorted. "And this is the part where I break down and tell you my sad, sorry life?"

"Why not?"

Sajinn looked up into warm, understanding brown eyes that seemed to peer into her soul. He was so gentle, she could almost fall into that open face, which only made her keep her guard up more firmly. "Let's just say that I never thought I would end up here."

"I don't think any of us did."

She narrowed her eyes as if she’d come to a decision about him, tilting her head just so. Sajinn didn't think she had ever met anyone quite like this Windu. Finally, she asked, "What's your story?"

They exchanged a wry smile and Mace shook his head. "Okay, I'll bite. There's not much to tell. Parents died early in an accident, I was taken in by a small-time smuggler and learned the ropes, now I'm out here for myself."

Sajinn arched an eyebrow. "And where does Jinn come into all of this? I see that there's this, " she waved her hand vaguely, "thing between you."

Mace swallowed more of his brandy to give himself more time to come up with a suitable answer. Jinn...Qui-Gon, what was he to him? A close friend, a confidante, a brave and courageous man...yet Qui-Gon was and always would be so much more.

"He's someone I love," Mace replied honestly, catching himself unawares by the sincerity in his voice. He would have to meditate on this later.

Sajinn was perceptive enough to know it was more than the kind of love found between brothers and close friends. She could see the longing in Windu's dark eyes, the way his face would suddenly relax at the mere mention of Jinn. She had enough experience with lovelorn travelers to know unrequited love when she saw it.

"He doesn't love you?"

"He doesn't know. Or he does, but doesn't want to recognize it. I don't know. I haven't really talked to him about it."

"Why don't you approach him?"

"I don't want to push it. He's still not over Ob--Ben, his mate."

Sajinn was watching Qui-Gon again. "How long has it been since his Ben died?"

Mace blew out a puff of air, trying to count all the months of isolation and pain. There were some days when he had sat beside Qui-Gon who reacted to nothing he did or said. It seemed like decades, but in reality, only a mere few months. "About a year now."

Sajinn considered this. "Maybe it's time you do something then. Help him move on."

"That's why we're here." Mace stared into his drink, turning it in his hands.

"Maybe he's lonely."

"We're all lonely."

Sajinn refilled his nearly empty glass without a word, startling him out of his thinking. "On the house."

"Thanks," he said, standing up.

Sajinn nodded and turned away, busy cleaning up behind the counter and organizing bottles. Mace made his way around tables and chairs towards Qui-Gon. The man Qui-Gon was talking with leaned back in his chair upon seeing Mace's arrival.

"Well, who do we have here?" He asked in a loud, cheerful voice, though that had probably more to do with the large amounts of alcohol he had consumed than his natural demeanor.

"Ace, this is Windu, my partner. Windu, Ace." Mace shook hands with the drunken smuggler and took a seat beside Qui-Gon.

Qui-Gon nodded towards his drink. "I could use another of those."

"Sajinn? Another brandy for my friend here," Mace called out, holding up his own drink. Sajinn nodded and went to go prepare another.

"So our friend Ace here has been telling me about the latest shipments in the area," Qui-Gon started out, catching Mace's eye. "Apparently business is active nowadays, isn't that right, Ace?"

Ace nodded enthusiastically in a tipsy fashion. His breath reeked of booze and his eyes were bloodshot. "Big people coming into the scene. There's a lot of work out there, for people who want it."

Mace perked up his ears. "Really. Like who?"

Alcohol had significantly loosened the smuggler's tongue, although he tried to convey his next words in a secretive fashion by leaning in, whispering, "BioLodge, Trade DC...all sorts of giants. All very, very lucrative, but...this is between you and me, 'kay?"

Mace wasn't sure whom Ace was referring to, but nodded anyway. Before either he or Qui-Gon could get out another question though, Sajinn approached their table with a tray laden with drinks. The three men sat up as Sajinn put the tray on the table.

"A round, on the house, boys. And don't listen too much to what Ace here has to say. He likes to talk when he's drunk, be it true or not. Business hasn't picked up for years."

"You don't know nothing, Saji. I've heard from people..."

"Who tells you anything, Ace?" Sajinn asked, putting a hand on her hip, trying to bait him.

Ace closed and opened his eyes in an exaggerated gesture of frustration and shot Sajinn an annoyed glare. "I'm sayin' I know. I got in. My shipment runs in a week."

"For who?" Qui-Gon asked.

"Sun Corps. Small supply, but if I do it good, I get more." Ace reached for another glass on the tray and knocked back its contents in one swallow.

Sajinn rolled her eyes and sat down backwards in the last remaining seat at the table for lack of anything better to entertain her. "Talk to Lavi tomorrow, he'd know what's going on better than this scrounge ball over here. I'll introduce you to him, he's a regular. Smart too, which is more than what you can say for him." She jerked her thumb at Ace, who was weaving in his seat.

The night wore on, Mace and Qui-Gon gradually become more and more intoxicated with each round Sajinn introduced. The warm feelings and camaraderie kept going, fueled by cheap booze and crude stories. Mace mentally filed away the names of the big corporations he had heard to be added to his reports to the Council.

Eventually the conversation was joined by other stragglers, who, upon seeing the bar still open despite the lateness of the hour, wandered in and gravitated towards the congregation in the back. As more alcohol was consumed, the topics gradually turned from light-hearted into sad and wistful, as many a smuggler had at one time or another, an unfortunate event happen to them -- lost love, betrayal...

"That’s nothing!" Mace exclaimed, perhaps a bit too loudly, to the others. "Try having been in love with someone for over twenty years and never having that love returned!"

Everyone made sympathetic noises in response. Poor Mace, Qui-Gon thought. To love and to have never have had? At least there was my Obi-Wan. Poor Mace.

This last thought spurred him into speaking, though about what, he wasn’t quite sure of, so he blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "I remember the day I first realized I was in love."

The others stared at him in silence. His quiet voice had cut through the raucous voices most effectively and all of a sudden a not-so-sober Qui-Gon found himself the unwitting center of attention.

Sajinn cleared her throat. "How?"

"Well, it wasn’t in the ideal way, that’s for certain." Qui-Gon smiled, already lost in the past. It was so rare to encounter a memory that wasn’t tinged with pain these days. But that one, perfect, innocent time...

"I can’t believe you!" Obi-Wan was a whirlwind of fury as he stormed into the room after his master. He had enough sense to wait until the door had been shut before turning towards Qui-Gon, spitting rage with claws fully extended. "We’re just going to leave? To leave?"

Qui-Gon sighed, not wanting to admit to himself that his angry apprentice posed a formidable picture, with jaw sternly clenched and eyes flashing dangerously.

"Padawan, the Council has pulled us out. The situation has become irreparable."

"That’s not an excuse to abandon a mission!"

"I agree with them, Obi-Wan."

This last statement left Obi-Wan clearly stunned and Qui-Gon wanted to laugh at the irony of the situation. Him, usually the maverick of the Jedi, going along with the Council while Obi-Wan was the one this time to oppose?

"How can you?" Obi-Wan asked, clearly perplexed as to why his master would abandon a people whose planet was drenched in a bloody, civil war.

"Neither side is willing to cooperate. The supreme ruling faction is feeding us lies during negotiations and being here any longer poses a great threat to your life." The silent indication led Obi-Wan to look down at his arm cradled to his shoulder, heavily bandaged in a sling. There were no Jedi healers and no bacta to quickly treat the severe fracture Obi-Wan had sustained in an attempt on his life and Qui-Gon could only do so much in the healing arts.

"It doesn’t matter," Obi-Wan shook his head, "We are Jedi. We constantly put ourselves in danger. Master, we’re so close to finding the truth. These people need our help and if we leave, what will happen then?"

Qui-Gon was torn between wanting to protect his padawan and keep him safe and the ever-weighing responsibilities of being a Jedi. At one time, he would never have been in such a situation -- he was a Jedi first and foremost and always would be. But now, things were...different. He had a padawan to care for and Qui-Gon found his priorities shifting.

The attack on Obi-Wan had left him more scared than he was comfortable with being. He tried meditating to release his fear, but it lined all his emotions concerning his apprentice -- the very real notion of losing his padawan forever. He would probably have to think more of this later, when Obi-Wan was safe.

"You must be in a significant amount of pain, Padawan. Let me help you," Qui-Gon side-stepped, reaching to touch Obi-Wan’s harm.

"I’m keeping the pain at bay, for the most part," Obi-Wan said, knowing and letting Qui-Gon change the subject. He winced at Qui-Gon’s touch.

Qui-Gon could feel the waves of tightly-knit pain radiating off the younger man, despite Obi-Wan’s protests to the contrary. And if his padawan was using the Force to alleviate the worst of it, then it must be severe. Indeed, Obi-Wan was tired and just barely trembling with fatigue.

Qui-Gon channeled the Force into his apprentice’s arm, hoping to take away at least some of the agony Obi-Wan must be feeling. He began to relax under Qui-Gon’s ministrations and he let out a small sigh.

"Thank you." Obi-Wan looked up at his master just then and met his eyes.

Obi-Wan was so very close to him and so very solid. Qui-Gon forgot to breathe for a moment, lost in their blue depths, dazzlingly bright. And very determined.

"I’m not leaving until our job here is done, Master," Obi-Wan said very matter-of-factly.

With that, Obi-Wan went to the bedroom he had been given, leaving a very troubled Qui-Gon to ponder these most unwelcome and personal realizations.

"Took about a week later to actually come to the conclusion that I loved him," Qui-Gon mused. "Another year before I told him."

Ace chuckled, breaking Qui-Gon from his ruminations. "Yeah, I bet he’s a feisty one. Makes a run interesting, I’m sure."

"He was very intelligent. Very quick and very bright. We were a good team," Qui-Gon said thoughtfully. "I think I loved him right there and then because he was so beautiful in his stubbornness."

No one picked up on Qui-Gon’s past tense reference except for Mace and Sajinn.

"Did you stick with the run?"

Qui-Gon smiled and nodded slightly. Ace only shook his head and laughed some more, muttering, "Damn fool."

By the time Mace and Qui-Gon made an excuse to retire, it was well into the early hours of the morning. Exhaustion from traveling and drinking made them stumble into their quarters with slightly less grace than usual. Mace tripped and collided into Qui-Gon, sending them both toppling onto Mace's bed in a fit of drunken giggles.

The laughter stopped when both realized the close proximity of each other's body. Mace could feel the sharp heat coming off Qui-Gon's skin, smell his scent and feel the hardness of Qui-Gon's body beneath him. It made certain parts of him stir to life and without thinking any more of it, he bent his head down and kissed Qui-Gon.

It took a few seconds for Qui-Gon to realize what was happening, but soon he melted under Mace's body and began kissing him back, tasted the alcohol they had drunk, wrapping his arms around Mace, feeling Mace's erection rubbing against his own. Waves of pleasure rolled through his body as Mace reached down to cup his erection and he thrust up to meet the warm, inviting hand. It had been too long since he had received any kind of physical comfort.

But just as quickly, sobering reality set and Qui-Gon suddenly broke the deep kiss he had been locked in and tried to get out from under Mace's body. He swiftly stood up and took a few unsteady steps away from Mace, needing the support of his bed.

"What? Qui-Gon?"

"Mace...I can't. I'm sorry, but I can't do this." Qui-Gon took a few shuddering breaths to calm his aroused body.

Mace was frustrated, his body screaming to drag Qui-Gon back to bed. He tried to understand, tried to be considerate, but even Jedi had limits to their patience. Mace sat up and glared at Qui-Gon, managing to look imposing despite the still ardent erection the councilor was carrying.

"What is this between us, Qui-Gon?"

Qui-Gon froze, keeping his face turned away from his friend. Mace wanted to see Qui-Gon's eyes, wanted to see the truth in them and get an honest and straightforward answer for once.

"I don't know," Qui-Gon answered, so softly Mace had to strain all his Force senses to hear it.

Mace sighed, suddenly very tired of all of this. He had invested too much of himself into Qui-Gon's emotional well being this past year and he was very weary of it all.

"You know, one minute I think that we've got something going here, that you've finally let me in to help you share your pain and the next you push me away. I don't know what to make of it and it's driving me crazy, Qui-Gon!"

Qui-Gon said nothing.

"I love you, Qui-Gon."

There, he had said it. He hadn't meant to so soon and it was probably the alcohol that was making him reveal all his pent-up emotions, but it was about time something had to happen. If Qui-Gon wanted to remain stuck in the past, so be it!

Qui-Gon finally faced him, a world of pain in his sad, blue eyes. "You know I can't, Mace."

Mace had to bite back a scream of frustration. "You can't keep living this way, Qui-Gon. You have to let go at some point! Do you think that this is what Obi-Wan wanted for you? To dwell in the past and stop living?"

When Qui-Gon didn't answer, Mace turn his body away from him and made as if he were about to go to bed. "You know, when you finally do have the courage to move on, tell me some time."

He closed his eyes and willed Qui-Gon and all his baggage away, wanting to remember a time that wasn't weighed down by prevailing sorrow.

The two weeks rest had worked wonders, just as the healer's predicted. Obi-Wan seemed to gain back some of his coloring and energy and there were no more incidents of dizziness or nausea. He was still thin, but was gradually putting back the weight on a steady diet and gaining more muscle with continual exercise.

Qui-Gon was relieved. The seriousness of the situation seemed to pass and he was ready to believe that all was right in the universe again.

They had lain in bed together for most of the morning one day, reluctant to get up and begin. Obi-Wan had draped himself across Qui-Gon's body and rested his head on Qui-Gon's chest, relaxed. Qui-Gon's skin was still slick with sweat from their lovemaking session earlier and Obi-Wan relished the scent.

"Mmm. I could stay like this all day," Obi-Wan murmured in Qui-Gon's skin, snuggling up closer. "We never have this kind of time together anymore."

"I know." Qui-Gon began running his fingers through Obi-Wan's short hair, eventually trailing down to play with the padawan braid that fell across his chest. "I've missed you."

Obi-Wan smiled contentedly, opening his eyes to watch Qui-Gon play with his braid. Qui-Gon's body heat was making him feel lazy. The sight of Obi-Wan's small smile went straight to Qui-Gon's groin and he pulled Obi-Wan's face up to kiss him deeply.

Tongues met and warred with each other. Qui-Gon brought his hands up to run down Obi-Wan's smooth back, loving the feel of slim muscles ripple beneath his callused fingers. His hands eventually made it to Obi-Wan's backside and fingers found their way to his opening, still slick from the previous lubrication. Obi-Wan moaned and thrust back on Qui-Gon's fingers, wanting to feel more.

Obi-Wan broke away from Qui-Gon's lips, a mischievous glint in his eyes. He sat back and reached behind him, still keeping Qui-Gon's eyes locked with his. Warm hands wrapped around Qui-Gon's weeping erection and Qui-Gon made a muffled sound of pleasure. Obi-Wan positioned Qui-Gon's length near his opening and impaled himself on Qui-Gon's cock. Almost with agonizing slowness, he sat back, trying to get as much of Qui-Gon into him as possible.

For awhile, they remained in that position, reveling in the feeling of intimacy and connection. Obi-Wan felt the overwhelming desire and love coming off Qui-Gon and returned it in full. And finally, with an unspoken word, he lifted himself up, nearly moaning at the loss, before lowering himself again, sending spikes of slow burning ecstasy through his body. Qui-Gon bit his lower lip as Obi-Wan slowly rode him. His hands reached up to grab Obi-Wan's narrow hips and he thrust up to meet Obi-Wan's, movement for movement. Obi-Wan used Qui-Gon's leg for support as his other hand reached down to his own aching member and stroked it in time to his rocking.

They were in no hurry and the build up of pleasure was drawn out and sweet. Still, Qui-Gon's eyes never left Obi-Wan's. Then gradually, the need for completion drove them to speed up their rhythm until Obi-Wan moaned when his climax washed over him and he released his seed onto Qui-Gon's stomach. Qui-Gon gripped his hips tighter when he came, pulling Obi-Wan down to him once again and tasting Obi-Wan's mouth.

Obi-Wan collapsed on top of Qui-Gon, breathing hard. Qui-Gon too was left gasping for breath, but couldn't find the energy to move. Obi-Wan groaned and then let out a soft chuckle into his bondmate's shoulder.

"Ugh, I think that was one time too many. Now we really need to get up."

"Just let me get the feeling back into my lower extremities," Qui-Gon mumbled, already drifting off to sleep.

Obi-Wan unexpectedly got off of Qui-Gon and stood up, pulling on Qui-Gon's arm and using just a touch of the Force to aid him. "Come on, up. First we'll shower, then I'll make breakfast." Once glance at the chrono and he corrected his statement, "Or lunch."

Reluctantly, Qui-Gon let himself be pulled out of bed and dragged to the shower. There, he let Obi-Wan wash him, admittedly enjoying the feeling of being clean. Plus, having his padawan slick with suds wasn't exactly a bad thing either.

After a bit of distraction, they finally got out of the shower and Obi-Wan was already dressed and busy in their small kitchen while Qui-Gon still remained in the 'fresher, trying to manage his long hair and trim his beard.

"Tea, Qui-Gon?" Obi-Wan called out.

"Yes, Obi-Wan, that would be good. Thank you."

He looked into the mirror and thought about how happy and completely at peace he was - this simple life with his bondmate, doing simple things. If felt good to have someone to truly love and be loved by and Qui-Gon savored the feeling even more for he remembered a time when that wasn't so.

The piercing sound of a shattering dish made the small scissors he had been holding fall from his fingers and clatter into the sink.

"Obi-Wan?"

A loud thud sent him flying from the refresher into the kitchen where a horrible sight greeted him. Obi-Wan had fainted, lying on his side, the broken remnants of a porcelain mug littered around his unconscious body. Some of the pieces had already made small cuts into his skin, which were bleeding.

He checked to see if Obi-Wan's was breathing, biting down the rising panic by taking deep calming breaths. Obi-Wan was still breathing. His pulse was faint, but steady.

MACE!! He shouted out.

Mace heard the alarmed shout and immediately answered. Qui-Gon, what's wrong?

I need healers here now! Obi-Wan, he's fallen unconscious.

Stay calm, my friend. And remain where you are. The healers are on their way.

Qui-Gon broke off their connection and scooped up Obi-Wan's limp form. He moved Obi-Wan to the sofa and laid him gently on the cushions, brushing away shards of porcelain that had embedded themselves into his skin.

He tried to touch Obi-Wan's mind through their bond, only to find his padawan silent and unresponsive.

Choking back a sob threatening to overwhelm him, Qui-Gon gripped one of Obi-Wan's slim hands and clasped it tightly to his cheek.

He settled back to anxiously wait.

The only good thing that Gellriche had going for it were its drab, soothing colors -- easy on the eyes and not prone to instigating headaches. Qui-Gon sat alone at the bar later that morning, leaving Mace to sleep off his hangover from the previous night. He himself was nursing his own aching head with a glass of cool water pressed against his forehead. He didn't want to think about what had almost happened between him and Mace last night, didn't want to think about how he was going to face Mace again today. Instead, he thought about Obi-Wan again, who was never far from his thoughts. Obi-Wan would have seen his sickened master and would have insisted Qui-Gon stay in bed while he worked up some magical cure to get rid of Qui-Gon's hangover.

"You look as if you had a rough night."

Qui-Gon looked up to find Sajinn cleaning a few shot glasses, looking none the worse for wear, despite having consumed an equal amount of alcohol as Qui-Gon, if not more.

"Get any sleep, Jinn?" She asked, giving him a wicked gleam. "Or did you and Windu work off all that sexual tension I sensed from the night before?"

"M-he and I aren't like that," Qui-Gon said, nearly saying Mace's name aloud. He really needed to get it together if he were to get through today and still gather information.

"Could have fooled me. You two were all over each other last night."

"We were drunk."

"You and Windu have good chemistry."

"We're friends. Nothing more." Qui-Gon's tone warned her to drop it.

Sajinn complied and said nothing else but the look she gave him told him that she didn't believe a word he said. Qui-Gon sighed and wanted to crawl into a hole.

"You know," Sajinn said after awhile, "Nothing cures a hangover faster than more alcohol."

Qui-Gon groaned and shook his head, the small movement sending tremors of pain through his skull and he winced. "No, thank you. I think I'll just lay off the brandy for awhile."

"Windu mentioned your lover, Ben, dying a little ways back."

"Did he?" Qui-Gon made a point to chew out Mace later, when the thought of opening his mouth didn't want to make him throw up.

"Yeah. Nothing too detailed or anything. But I just gotta say that I know how hard it is to continue day to day living as if nothing happened. Some people don't have that kind of strength."

Was she being serious? Qui-Gon looked up and saw that she was. Perfectly.

"Windu has a big mouth."

"He cares about you though, that much is evident. I'd have taken him home myself if I didn't see that he had eyes only for you."

"And why do you care so much?" Qui-Gon asked, annoyed at this stranger's intrusion into the intimate aspects of his romantic life.

Sajinn shrugged. "It's rare when good things come along here. Most of my patrons are washed up, empty shells a lot of the time, wandering aimlessly from smuggling run to smuggling run until their luck runs out and they're either killed or arrested. I'd like to be responsible for some genuine happiness every once in awhile."

"Your hopes are greatly misplaced. My ability to love died with my mate."

That, too, was a familiar answer to the jaded barkeeper, one even she was fond of using. "What was he like, your Ben?"

Qui-Gon stared through his glass of water, seeing the distorted and warped shapes through it, and yet not seeing much of anything at all. He thought of Obi-Wan, the light of his life, the savior of his soul and his sanity, the keeper of his heart.

"He was...my everything."

"And now you can't imagine living life without him?"

"I am, though. Every day."

"Why?"

"Because he made me promise to."

This time, the healers did not reassure him of minor stress and fatigue. This time, his fears weren't dismissed as uncalled for and petty.

Obi-Wan now lay in a medical bed, looking all the paler and thinner. His right hand had been bandaged for a particularly nasty cut and was now cradled in his lap. He turned and met Qui-Gon's eyes through the pane of glass, but a clearing of the throat made Qui-Gon turn towards a woman just coming into the room.

The healer who had faced him before now faced him with sad eyes and Qui-Gon knew that whatever he was about to hear would be bad.

"Padawan Kenobi's initial tests came up negative for anything serious. But these further tests - the DNA samples, the further blood tests...they show that Obi-Wan is positive for Adleen's disesase."

Qui-Gon closed his eyes and bowed his head, feeling the world falling beneath him. "What is that?"

"It's genetic," the healer explained softly - always so softly, even when sounding the death knell, "it, uh, it slowly destroys Obi-Wan's blood cells and internal organs. That's what initially caused the nose bleed, it's what's making Obi-Wan so tired."

He didn't know how to digest her words. He couldn't reconcile the harsh terms used to describe what was happening in his beloved's body. "Is there a cure?"

"No. Once the disease sets in, there's nothing to stop it and it moves quickly. We can slow the progress of the disease for a time, but eventually the medication will cease working. I'm sorry, Master Jinn."

It had become a surreal world he was living in now. He didn't know how he should be taking any of this, whether he should be breaking down and sobbing by now or angry at the injustice of it all. He just didn't know, so he asked, "How long do we have then?"

"It depends...a few months, maybe, at best. The treatment will help slow it down, though."

"Can I see him now?"

"Of course."

Upon entering Obi-Wan's room and taking one look at his padawan's exhausted face, Qui-Gon knew that Obi-Wan had been told of his condition. To his credit, Obi-Wan was perfectly composed and only held out his hand to Qui-Gon wordlessly.

Qui-Gon took it and sat on the edge of the bed. He tried to put on a stoic mask, for the sake of his bondmate, but his hands shook and he felt as if his composure would slip at any moment.

"How are you feeling, Obi-Wan?"

"Um, tired mostly. Shocked, maybe. I think it takes time for the news to sink in." Obi-Wan's eyes implored him, "How are you doing?"

"'Bout the same," Qui-Gon tried to smile. His vision was blurring and his chest felt crushed, but he stubbornly tried to reign in his emotions.

Obi-Wan tilted his head, "I'm so sorry."

Qui-Gon wanted to laugh his astonishment. "For what?"

"For having this happen to us right now."

Qui-Gon kissed Obi-Wan's frail hand. "It's certainly not your fault, my love. Never your fault."

Obi-Wan was quiet for a moment, then turned to Qui-Gon with an almost frightening intensity. "I love you, Qui-Gon."

"And I love you, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said roughly. A pain had developed in his chest and it made talking difficult.

Obi-Wan blinked back the tears that threatened to rise from Qui-Gon's slip in composure and looked away for a moment. "What will we do?"

"Live each day to the fullest. For as long as we can."

Obi-Wan kissed Qui-Gon tenderly, knowing that their time was growing short and vowing to never take Qui-Gon's kisses for granted. "I'd like that."

Mace found Qui-Gon in the bar, already drunk and it was only 1200 hours. He began to regret pushing Qui-Gon into a mission so soon, but both he and the Council were eager to see Qui-Gon get his life back together. Unfortunately, getting him out in the field was proving to have disastrous consequences, despite the installment of Mace as Qui-Gon's partner to ease the transition. Of course, did he really expect things to work out to plan?

When Qui-Gon saw him he gave him a drunken smile and laid his head back down on the bar. Mace glanced at Sajinn who only smirked and walked off to help another customer, leaving him to deal with the drunken Jedi master by himself. The Force hates me, Mace thought.

"Alright, friend, I think you've had enough for today. Or the next decade." Mace tried to hoist Qui-Gon up from the barstool, but the man was a lot heavier than he had originally thought.

"It was my fault, Mace, why did I have to be so bloody stoic?" Qui-Gon slurred, making little sense to Mace whatsoever.

Mace cringed at Qui-Gon's use of his first name, though was fairly sure no one else caught the slip. "Don't know Jinn, maybe you have too much damn pride."

Mace put one of Qui-Gon's arms over his shoulders and found it easier to half-carry and half-drag his friend back to their rooms. Already he was becoming irritated with Qui-Gon's shirking of his responsibilities, leaving Mace alone for the day to gather any information he could. The only consolation Mace could see was that Qui-Gon would have the mother of all hangovers once he sobered up.

By the time he had managed to drag Qui-Gon to his bed, Mace was out of breath. Too old, he thought, and still not doing so well from last night, either. In his youth, he could spend a whole night knocking back hard alcohol and wake up feeling refreshed in the morning. Where had those carefree days gone?

As if in reminder of the sharp passing of time, Qui-Gon groaned from his bed, turned over and fell off the narrow mattress, hitting the floor with a loud thunk. Breathless laughter emerged from the floor and Mace moved to Qui-Gon to help him back up, but Qui-Gon seemed to have no inclination of moving. He rolled around in the small space between their beds and laughed hysterically, high-pitched and hoarse. Mace found himself at a loss for words, knowing and yet not knowing the pain Qui-Gon was suffering.

"Why does Fate always come to bite you in the ass, Mace?" Qui-Gon asked between fits of dying chuckles. In marked contrast to his preceding gaiety, his words were soft and anguished. "We were so happy. So happy."

"It is the will of the Force," Mace said lamely in reply. The words didn't even give him an ounce of comfort, but seemed inherently funny to Qui-Gon, who began laughing again.

"Whoever thought that one up should get skewered. Then he can become one with the Force and be very, very happy."

Mace sighed and sat down at the corner of one of the beds. He hated seeing Qui-Gon like this, unable to pick up the pieces of his life. It was so uncharacteristic of the strong, confident Jedi he had been with Obi-Wan. Then again, it seemed like everything that had animated Qui-Gon so vibrantly left with Obi-Wan, leaving an empty, lifeless shell to go on walking and breathing.

"Qui-Gon, you can't keep doing this."

"But alcohol is warm. Even the bad stuff."

Mace shook his head. "I'm not talking about the alcohol, though you can't drown out your pain in it either. You're not facing up to the facts. You're dwelling too much on the past and the pain just circles around you growing bigger."

"Mace, your head is awfully big from down here."

Mace grit his teeth in irritation, deciding that an intoxicated Qui-Gon was more obstinate than a sober Qui-Gon. He didn't need this, not now. His duties as a Jedi came first and if all Qui-Gon wanted to do was wallow in his guilt and misery, he would have no part in it. He was tired of looking after his friend, tired of putting up with Qui-Gon's depression and inability to get over himself. He loved Qui-Gon, wanted Qui-Gon, wanted to comfort Qui-Gon...but wouldn’t be put second in the shadow of Qui-Gon's former lover.

"Qui-Gon, I'm going to go out and see what I can find about the drug smuggling. Sleep off the alcohol."

"Mace..."

Mace turned to find Qui-Gon had sat up and was now looking straight at him with a surprisingly sober air.

"I'm not trying to avoid my duties. I still want to be a part of this mission. I'm sorry for my behavior...I just...I can't seem to find a way out of this."

"Well, Qui-Gon, you're going to have to find a way," Mace said, turned and left.

"Do you not love me anymore?"

The question had been asked out of the blue and caught Qui-Gon off guard. He looked up from the datapad he had been reading to find Obi-Wan looking at him. His skin seemed even whiter against the dark blue blanket covering him, made his cheeks appear even more sunken in and highlighted the bluish-black rings under his eyes. Last night's nose bleed had left Obi-Wan especially weak this morning.

Qui-Gon tried to smile through his awkwardness. "Of course I love you. How can you ask me such a thing?"

"Then why are you pushing me away? Why are you distancing yourself from me?"

"I'm not."

Obi-Wan narrowed his eyes in irritation and Qui-Gon braced himself for another fit of anger. Of late, no matter how much Qui-Gon pampered him, Obi-Wan had become increasingly snappish and short-tempered. Though he was rapidly losing weight, Obi-Wan refused the food Qui-Gon begged him to eat.

"You treat me as if I am dying, like you have to close yourself off to me now so the pain won't be as hard to bear."

Obi-Wan's accusations hit home and stung Qui-Gon so deeply, he was speechless. "Obi-Wan," he finally managed, "I am doing everything in my power to make your life happy! I've never left your side, not once. What more do you want from me?"

"How about you, Qui-Gon? Can I have my bondmate back? You treat me as if I'm this fragile thing that will shatter if you touch it."

Qui-Gon stood up and moved towards his padawan, angry now. All the days of built up fear, frustration and lack of sleep finally boiled to the surface. "How can I help it? You grow thinner by the day. You can't even summon enough energy to get out of bed in the mornings! How can I just sit here, helpless, and watch you waste a-away!"

His voice finally betrayed him as it couldn't get around the hard lump that had formed in his throat. Tears of frustration and exhaustion fell on his cheeks, but Qui-Gon gave them no heed. He was so tired. He barely slept at all these days, desperately listening to the sound of Obi-Wan's breathing so it wouldn't stop. And when Obi-Wan awoke in the middle of the night, coughing up blood or bleeding from somewhere, he made sure to always respond immediately with towels and the medication he had been given by the healers.

He had informed the council that he would take a leave from his duties in order to care for his padawan and had then proceeded to wait on Obi-Wan, hand and foot. He brought Obi-Wan his meals and carried the younger man to the 'fresher when Obi-Wan was too weak. He bathed, cleaned and dressed his padawan. He read him stories to cure Obi-Wan's restlessness. And when Obi-Wan slept, as he did so much these days, Qui-Gon would sit next to him, spine ramrod straight, eyes glued to the rise and fall of the younger man's chest, waiting for the slightest sign of Obi-Wan's discomfort.

"I have done so much for you! How can you accuse me of not loving you? All that I have ever done has been for you!"

"I need you here, with me," Obi-Wan quietly pleaded to Qui-Gon's emotional outburst. "I need you, Qui-Gon, not the trays of food you bring, or the cold towels. I need to feel your touch. I need your hands on me again, to make me feel like I'm still at least half-alive! I miss you."

It had been Qui-Gon's undoing, seeing those blue-green eyes shimmering with desperate tears, the softly spoken words begging for his love. Obi-Wan was still so beautiful to him and he had suffered the loss of the feel of Obi-Wan's touch acutely.

With a long suppressed desire, Qui-Gon nearly pounced on his bondmate, claiming him with his mouth, with his tongue and with his hands. Obi-Wan enthusiastically responded to Qui-Gon's wild touches, moaning and arching his back into Qui-Gon solid body.

They made love with a passion long absent in the days after Obi-Wan's diagnosis. Their newly kindled desire seemed to revive Obi-Wan. From then on, he seemed to gain back his energy. He began to spark with the same vitality, the same bright Force signature that had once been dim. His quick wit and dry humor were not long in returning either and Qui-Gon realized how much he had missed their lively conversations, the sheer joy of talking to his intellectual equal.

Obi-Wan could now easily get up in the mornings and even began performing light exercises again, bringing back muscle tone and stamina. As for the nosebleeds, they virtually stopped, much to Qui-Gon's joy. Their nights were filled with fervent lovemaking, the sharing and the connection between them becoming all the stronger. It was so easy to forget that Obi-Wan was dying, he emitted so much light and life.

And for awhile, Qui-Gon had lured himself into the pretense that all was right in the universe.

Qui-Gon stared up at the ceiling from the bed he had managed to hoist himself onto, thinking about that happy respite in what had only been a downward spiral to the inevitable. How overjoyed he had been and how he had almost convinced himself to believe that Obi-Wan was cured.

He closed his eyes to the familiar pain in his heart now coupled with the pounding of his temples. He had really overdone it this time. And what a mess he had made of everything - himself, the mission, Mace. He couldn't even keep it together just this once, swallow his emotions behind the calm Jedi façade he had been so good at maintaining in the initial months after Obi-Wan's death.

"Force, what is happening to me?" he asked himself aloud.

The Force, if it indeed heard him, gave no reply, only the stirring of another swirling memory - the brutal wake up call.

Obi-Wan's sudden recovery astounded even the healers. The medication used to counteract the disease was working remarkably well, dramatically slowing the disease's progress and allowing Obi-Wan's body to build up its own natural defenses.

They began sparring again, mostly because Obi-Wan missed it and Qui-Gon missed seeing the bright spark of joy in Obi-Wan's eyes every time he held his lightsaber.

They started out lightly, but gradually fell into the rhythm of fighting again as a natural team. Obi-Wan was a bit rusty, but in his attentive care of his padawan, so was he. The stretching and strain of muscles and the sweat building up on skin felt wonderful.

He could feel Obi-Wan's equal enjoyment in the more strenuous exercise. His padawan moved with a lithe grace and beauty few in the Order could match, even when not at his best. Obi-Wan had a natural speed and fluidity that had saved his life many times over the course of their missions together. But now, in the stress-free, carefree environment of a Jedi Temple training salle, Obi-Wan was a thing to admire. His perfect connection in the Force allowed him to fall out of his body's weaknesses and move to the Force's commands. It took Qui-Gon's breath away.

When their match ended, Obi-Wan powered down his lightsaber, breathing heavier from his exertion, but unable to keep the grin off his face. "I've missed this so much."

So much in fact that Obi-Wan, on impulse, planted a happy peck on Qui-Gon's cheek.

Qui-Gon was about to come up with some sort of amused reply but the words froze in his throat as Obi-Wan drew away from him.

Obi-Wan's nose had begun bleeding again.

Seeing Qui-Gon's frozen look, so reminiscent of the first time, Obi-Wan knew with a sinking heart what was happening with cold certainty. His time was up.

He moved a hand up to cover his nose, wanting to spare Qui-Gon from the sight of his blood, but found even that small act caused him incredible dizziness. His trembling hand fell away from him, drenched in crimson, and Qui-Gon's voice became distant as the floor rushed up to meet him.

Qui-Gon shut his eyes against the flood of memories, finding that once one leaked through, it opened the gates for it all to come crashing down upon him...

"It's as we feared. The medication has stopped working."

Qui-Gon stared numbly at his sleeping padawan in the next room, tired of this old pattern. It took a little bit away from him every time he returned here.

The healer laid a comforting hand on Qui-Gon's shoulder, which only tensed under her touch. "It's only a matter of time now. I'm sorry, Master Jinn."

The healer left him alone then and Qui-Gon simply stood outside Obi-Wan's room, watching the various equipment they had attached to his apprentice beep and whirl softly in a steady rhythm. The healer's wing was particularly silent today and starkly empty.

Not wanting to stand in the cold, sterile halls of the wing any longer, Qui-Gon went into Obi-Wan's room, taking in the sight of his ill apprentice, made only smaller by the ominous equipment surrounding him. It was such a drastic change from only hours earlier, when Obi-Wan had been awake, vibrant and happy. He moved closer to Obi-Wan's bedside and took one of Obi-Wan's hands in his own, content to watch his love sleep.

He didn't know how long he had been there. He had gradually fallen into the hypnotic sound of the machines blowing air into Obi-Wan's lungs and the steady beat of the recording of Obi-Wan's pumping heart. Time melted away in the feel of Obi-Wan's cool hand in his own.

The trance was broken when Obi-Wan weakly opened his eyes and fixed them on Qui-Gon. He said nothing, didn't need to. Obi-Wan's eyes said all and Qui-Gon had to fight the urge to break down - to break something. So instead, he kept looking into his bondmate's loving gaze, lost in their brilliance, capturing their brightness to sear into his memory forever.

The oxygen machine exhaled again, sending another whoosh of air into Obi-Wan's lungs.

It was with a deep, unspoken sorrow that Qui-Gon carried his frail padawan into their shared quarters, cradling Obi-Wan to him as if he were a small, delicate child.

With loving tenderness, Qui-Gon laid Obi-Wan on their bed and pulled the covers up to below his chin, tucking him in with infinite care. Too weak to open his mouth, Obi-Wan's gratitude shone clear in his eyes before they fluttered closed in rest.

Qui-Gon gently placed another pillow beneath the many others already supporting his apprentice's body. He hoped Obi-Wan was warm enough. To be sure, he draped his robe on top of the comforter.

His kissed the tip of Obi-Wan's nose before leaving him to sleep.

Having given up to the repression of those painful memories, Qui-Gon was now lost. The spaceport, the mission, the Jedi...all fell away from him. He was only aware of the memories, only cared for what happened next.

"I don't want to die here..." He whispered into the dark space around him, as if expecting an answer.

"I don't want to die here," the voice softly said from beneath the piles of blankets and pillows.

Qui-Gon knelt down to Obi-Wan's eye level and caressed his cheek. "Where do you want to go, my love?"

Obi-Wan closed his eyes and Qui-Gon was afraid the other man had fallen asleep for a moment, but then Obi-Wan spoke, nothing more than a whisper.

"Some place warm. Some place with life. Coruscant's too cold."

Even under the great pains Qui-Gon took to layering his apprentice with blankets, Obi-Wan still shivered uncontrollably.

"How about the Yavin Temple? No one around for miles and it's warm, very warm."

Obi-Wan worked up enough energy to smile. "Yes, Yavin sounds nice."

Qui-Gon's brow furrowed. "Do you think you're strong enough to travel, Obi-Wan?"

"No." Obi-Wan wanted to laugh, but the effort died in his exhaustion. "Does that really matter now?"

Qui-Gon leaned forward to kiss Obi-Wan's forehead. "Tomorrow, we'll depart. I promise."

"No. Absolutely not. Obi-Wan needs a healer, not a hot, swarming jungle," Mace said. The thought of moving Obi-Wan now was ludicrous.

Qui-Gon tried to keep a check on his rising anger, but was failing miserably. "Obi-Wan is beyond a healer's care now. He doesn't want to spend the last days of his life in this cold, lifeless planet."

"And what if he dies en route, Qui-Gon? He'd be dying in cold, lifeless space."

"Then he'd have me by his side. I'll be the last one to comfort him, just like I always have!" Qui-Gon thundered, strolling out of Mace's office.

"I'm leaving with Obi-Wan with or without your permission, Mace. I'm simply telling you my intentions out of courtesy," he called out just as the doors slid closed behind him.

They had arrived on Yavin IV in the middle of the night, Obi-Wan having slept for most of the journey. Qui-Gon was greeted by the temple masters and shown to his and Obi-Wan's rooms.

Over the next few days, Qui-Gon took his padawan out for forays in the steamy jungle. He pointed out the many different kinds of wildlife and identified several different types of vegetation. He had even come across a waterfall not too far away and, securely carrying Obi-Wan the whole time, Qui-Gon waded into the clear and warm water with his apprentice.

Qui-Gon found the planet particularly beautiful and appealing to his sense of the Living Force. He found it easier to think here, away from the distractions of busy city transports and billions of people moving to and from their destinations.

The wild jungles of Yavin revived Obi-Wan slightly and his peaceful contentment flowed through his bond with Qui-Gon. It was a quiet life Qui-Gon led, dreading and yet knowing that the end was near.

The discovery of the waterfall soon became their favorite place. Most of the time, Obi-Wan preferred to sit at the water's edge and watch while Qui-Gon swam laps around the pool's small circumference. The sound of falling water was a dull roar and the sun would warm his skin, making him feel half-way decent again.

"You know, I love it here. Thank you for bringing me," Obi-Wan called out with as much strength as he could muster.

Qui-Gon stopped his swimming and waded over towards his apprentice. "Anything you want."

Obi-Wan lifted a hand to caress Qui-Gon's cheek, taking in all the details of Qui-Gon's features lest he ever forget them. "But what do you want?"

You healthy, Qui-Gon silently answered, here, with me, forever. But he kept those thoughts shielded and instead replied, "Just this. I only need this."

Obi-Wan lapsed into silence again, something he had become more and more prone to doing, as if he wanted to think carefully of every word spoken now, making sure each and every thing he did and said mattered. "Good, then. I'm glad. I sometimes fear for what will happen to you...after...but, seeing you like this, I know you'll be strong. And that makes me happy."

"Let me help you into the water. It's very warm."

Qui-Gon carefully curled his bondmate to his body and brought them both into the clear water. He guided Obi-Wan around the pool, much to Obi-Wan's laughing joy.

When it happened, it had happened suddenly and yet everything Qui-Gon knew in his heart to be true warned him that this day would eventually arrive.

The Temple was dark and silent this early in the morning and Obi-Wan's wheezing breath seemed to ring through the barren halls. It shook Qui-Gon from his restless sleep and clawed at his insides. His heart raced in his chest as every nerve in his body screamed denial.

For a second, he simply lay there on his pallet, peering into the darkness, frozen by a deep-seated terror.

But the Force urged him to move, that time was short, and so Qui-Gon raced from his pallet across the room to be with his Obi-Wan in his final moments.

It was hard to see in the dark, and Qui-Gon wished he could see Obi-Wan's face, reassure him that he was there. But Obi-Wan seemed to know anyway and relaxed in Qui-Gon's embrace, though the horrible shallow rasping continued.

Qui-Gon had begun rocking the two of them together in a steady rhythm, humming nonsensically. Everything was stiflingly silent and Obi-Wan's struggles to breathe were made all the louder for it. His bondmate had found Qui-Gon's hand in the darkness and gripped it tightly, as if that very act would connect him to his master forever.

Qui-Gon sent soothing feelings to his apprentice, only concentrated on the beat of Obi-Wan's heart and the steady, slow rocking of his body and the body he cradled tightly to him.

He felt it, when it happened, the very moment when Obi-Wan gave up in his struggles to take in oxygen and simply...let go.

...I love you...

The body he held to him shuddered once - briefly - before going terribly still.

Qui-Gon felt a brief feeling of overwhelming, intense love from Obi-Wan's departing spirit, the last touch from his bonded expressing all his love and gratitude, until it dissipated and became one with the Force.

He was alone now. The body he still clutched was rapidly cooling, Qui-Gon didn't know the human body would lose its heat so quickly. Obi-Wan's spirit, Obi-Wan's soul was irrevocably gone, leaving an empty, gaping void.

A high, keening sound startled Qui-Gon, sounding like a wounded animal having to die a slow, agonizing death. It was loud and abrasive to his ears and rudely broke through the haze of numbness and shock that had settled in the place where Obi-Wan's presence had previously filled his heart. The sound grew to be irritating and Qui-Gon wanted to snarl for it to shut up.

Until he realized that it was coming from him.

"And weren’t you the one who always told me to ‘live in the moment’?"

Qui-Gon sat up, wincing at the sudden spike of nausea from this action, but all sickness fled upon seeing that he was no longer alone in the room, but instead, faced with the very real form of his love.

"Obi-Wan..."

Obi-Wan gently smiled, a painfully familiar gesture. He appeared to be intangible, a ghostly presence, separate from reality yet still here communicating with Qui-Gon. Walking closer towards Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan’s eyes sparkled as he nodded this confirmation that he was indeed real. "Yes, Qui-Gon. No, you’re not still intoxicated and this isn’t a dream. It is all very real."

It was too much. Qui-Gon sunk to his knees beside the bed and before Obi-Wan, so close and yet so far away. After all this time...

"I miss you. You could never know how much I miss you."

"I know, Qui-Gon. I know it. I miss you as well, my love. Even death can’t stop my love for you." Obi-Wan placed an ethereal hand on Qui-Gon’s shoulder and the weight of it couldn’t be felt. The thought made Qui-Gon ache - a sore, tired, weary ache that he carried for a long time now.

"Why, Obi-Wan?"

"The Force has willed it so, Qui-Gon. We are not meant to be together in this lifetime." Obi-Wan knelt to Qui-Gon’s eye level and moved his hand to tip Qui-Gon’s chin, though Qui-Gon felt nothing more than a whisper of air. "Why haven’t you moved on?"

"I-I can’t. Not without you. Never without you."

"Qui-Gon, I made you promise me that you would continue to live after my death, that you would move on with your life."

"I am!" Qui-Gon exclaimed with near-exasperation. "What do you think I’ve been trying to do all these months? I’ve been living for you."

Obi-Wan only shook his head in denial. "This isn’t living, Qui-Gon. You might as well be dead for all the interest you have in life. Tell me, why have you pushed everyone away from yourself? It hurts me to see you like this."

"Then why did you leave me?"

The question was softly entreated from nights of loneliness and cold beds. Obi-Wan looked away. He was quiet until finally, he said, "Mace loves you, Qui-Gon."

"Everyone keeps telling me that."

"And I know you love him."

"I don’t, not like that."

"You do, but you’re too afraid to admit it to yourself. And you’re too afraid to reach out again. Qui-Gon, you can’t close your heart. Look at what it is costing you."

"Do you realize how hard it is to live without you here? How can I open myself up to that kind of pain again? I only love you, Obi-Wan."

"And I will always love you," Qui-Gon did not need to see the tender emotions spilt across Obi-Wan’s face to know that Obi-Wan’s love poured forth from him in a never ending inundation. "But you can't be in this place that you are in forever. I don’t want you to shut yourself away from everyone, Qui-Gon. You still have so much purpose in this life, so much that you are destined for."

Qui-Gon wanted to trace Obi-Wan’s lips and did so, lightly, not feeling Obi-Wan’s solidity beneath his fingers, but Obi-Wan smiled anyway.

"How can I move away from this? How can I just forget you?"

"You won’t, Qui-Gon. But in time, the ache will lessen. The first step is just to reach out." Obi-Wan paused and seemed to look through Qui-Gon for a second before focusing on him once again. "I don’t have much time left."

"Not much...?" Qui-Gon became desperate. Obi-Wan was leaving him again. He wished he could pull Obi-Wan to him and embrace him, never letting go. "Please don’t leave me, not now. Not when you’re here with me again."

"I have to, Qui-Gon, I’m sorry. My time here is limited and it is only to help you, to make you see that dwelling in the past changes nothing." Obi-Wan stood up and began stepping away from him and Qui-Gon was powerless to stop it. "The future is bright, my love. Live it."

Obi-Wan was become fainter, his voice more distant. "Obi-Wan, please -"

"I love you Qui-Gon, and I wait for you and the time when we can be together again."

"Obi-Wan..."

"There is no death, Qui-Gon. Remember that. Goodbye, my love." A whisper of lips caressing his own and Obi-Wan was gone in the next instant.

All soothing traces of Obi-Wan’s presence were gone and reality became very, very hollow.

He was alone once more.

A sob shook through him before he could choke it back. One harsh, anguished sound that broke through the prevailing silence in the room.

Qui-Gon desperately tried to keep the pain balled in his heart from escaping, but the thick walls he had thrown up to keep everyone away were crumbling. The tears finally overflowed and fell onto his cheeks, despite his attempts to keep them in.

And finally, he could hold it back no longer. The tears flowed and the pain ripped through him anew.

Qui-Gon sobbed for all the months of loneliness and pain, for all the months of exhausted frustration, for all the months where he had to be strong for his ailing beloved. The hot tears fell and mingled together to soak into the bed sheets beneath him.

He cried for all that he had lost and all that he had gone through. He cried for the other half of his soul and the sore, aching hole left where his love had once run deep. He cried for the beautiful and loving man that was his bonded. He cried for the loss of his Obi-Wan.

And eventually, when there were no more tears to cry, the choking sobs abated into wounded whimpers and sniffles; the last, soft sounds of sorrow. Qui-Gon sighed, a long drawn out sound. It was over. His Obi-Wan was gone.

Sitting up caused more pain to shoot through his head and his eyes were bleary and swollen. Qui-Gon felt empty, though it was no longer the painful, overwhelming emptiness. He felt more clear-headed than he had in a long, long time, as if a ray of sunshine broke through the clouds and pierced the fog of misery surrounding him. Perhaps weeping always made one feel this way.

It still hurt to think of Obi-Wan, but the pain was no longer so biting, now only a dull throbbing in his chest. How could he lie to himself anymore? Obi-Wan was one with the Force now, happy and at peace. He would see Obi-Wan again, when his time came, and they would once again be reunited with nothing to separate them. It was a comforting thought.

He recalled the promise Obi-Wan had drawn from him in those last days. He had suddenly turned to Qui-Gon and insisted that Qui-Gon not close his heart.

"Promise me," Obi-Wan had whispered, "that you won't stop living; that you will find another love to share after I'm gone."

Stunned, Qui-Gon could only reply, "Obi-Wan...I can't..."

"Promise me. Say you'll promise me." The desperation inherent in Obi-Wan's plea broke him.

"I...promise."

It was a promise he had failed to keep. How he dishonored his beloved's name. No more, Qui-Gon vowed.

"Goodbye, my love," he whispered in the emptiness of the room to wherever Obi-Wan was now.

Mace entered their quarters just then, looking tired and worn out. Qui-Gon wondered if that much time really had gone by, but by the exhausted appearance of his friend, he knew it had.

As much as Mace wanted to fall into bed and sleep for the next millennia, he pulled up short upon seeing the strangely peaceful expression upon Qui-Gon's face mixed with a curious sorrow. He saw the red, swollen eyes and knew Qui-Gon had cried only too recently, but seemed better off for it. Had he come to some kind of resolution? Mace didn't know what to make of anything.

"Qui-Gon, are you okay?"

Qui-Gon considered that question and took his time in answering. He shook his head at long last, but a small, saddened smile came to his lips and a bright spark long missing from his eyes flared to life for a moment, bemusing Mace.

"No, maybe not quite yet. But I think I will be, Mace." Managing to surprise the councilor even more, Qui-Gon reached out and grabbed Mace's hand, relishing the warm, wonderful touch of another living being. He hadn't let anyone touch him in so long.

"I think I will be."

end
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