Help Me, Obi-Wan Kenobi, You're My Only Ho - cont'd
(continued from part 28)
It didn’t take Bruck long to trace his lover’s destination, even though Xanatos had done his best to block both the bonds they shared as completely as possible. He didn’t need those bonds to find Xan. Bruck knew where he was going – knew it in his heart, his very soul.
He’d laid the course before leaving Coruscant, and had waited until he was well under way in hyperspace before entering the deep meditative trance needed to confirm his instincts.
The truth he’d suspected ever since its discovery during his time on Lentrebi Prime, would now, inevitably, come out. The final secret that could destroy everything he had built between himself and Xanatos was none of his doing, but he feared it more than he had feared the Sith.
It felt like ages ago when he’d ask Lehana-ma if she could see it clearly; standing in the light of Lentrebi Prime’s suns, the possibility had seemed remote. Surely it wasn’t relevant, he’d thought. It was over and done a lifetime ago.
“My lifetime,” he whispered to himself. It was as if his life had been on rails – each turning offering only the illusion of choice. He could no more leave Xanatos to his fate than he could restore his mother to life. He hadn’t known her, but his Lentrebi awareness had shown him the thread of fate that bound him to her, thin as a wire. Now – even as he had when he first discovered it – he could feel that she had loved him. Her dying wish had been for him to become a Jedi.
He’d seen so many things about himself and his past while on Lentrebi Prime, and been too much Lentrebi by then to regret his new awareness. So many bonds, all possessing the nature and feeling of the lives he’d touched, and the beings who had touched his.
He opened the ancient, long-neglected bond of fate he knew would lead him to Xanatos, though the feel of it sickened him.
He had a choice, just as he’d had before following Xanatos off the rampart of the pyre tower, but he hesitated no more now than he had then.
Qui-Gon had dozed off, despite his best efforts. He looked up, newly awake to see Obi-Wan sitting up in bed, staring at a vid screen.
“Well, fuck me,” Obi-Wan muttered under his breath. He was watching a recap of Senator Organa’s speech. He noticed Qui-Gon stirring and smiled. “Get some rest?”
Qui-Gon nodded, though it made his neck muscles scream their stiffness. “You?”
“A bit. Dreams.” Obi-Wan glanced at him, and then away quickly. “So this is what Bail was up to this morning? I’m impressed – didn’t think he had it in him.”
Something clenched inside Qui-Gon to hear the admiration in Obi-Wan’s voice.
“He was the one, wasn’t he?” Qui-Gon could not bear to dance about the issue any more. “Your balcony friend.”
Obi-Wan didn’t look at him. He swallowed hard and nodded. “He was… safe. I knew where I stood with him.”
It took effort, but Qui-Gon bit back the retort that came to his lips. Instead, he spoke a difficult truth.
“You didn’t with me.”
Slowly, Obi-Wan turned to face him, tears glistening in his eyes. “Are we lovers, Qui-Gon? Or am I a mission, another pathetic life form you feel the need to save?”
“I love you.” Qui-Gon took Obi-Wan’s uninjured hand, held it to his lips. “But maybe you’re right – maybe part of it was wanting to save you, too.”
“You pitied me.” Obi-Wan’s face had grown still, emotionless. A mask.
“No, my love.” Qui-Gon touched his cheek. “I admired you. Your freedom, your spirit – still so full of light and hope despite your circumstances. You are everything I’m not — everything I wish I could be.”
“But to love me means you can’t be a Jedi, doesn’t it?” He whispered, his tone expressionless. “How could we live?”
Qui-Gon noted that Obi-Wan’s question showed he was imagining a future in which they were together – one without him working as a courtesan.
Qui-Gon smiled, gently stroking the back of Obi-Wan’s hand. “I have made many friends in my service to the Galaxy. I’m sure one of them would have some use for me, or a ship to spare. We will make it work, Obi-Wan. Together, we can do anything.”
He could see it in his face, the battle going on in Obi-Wan’s thoughts. For so long his life, his very soul had depended on his pride – his stubborn assertions about the work he did and the skill involved – and his deliberate refusal to acknowledge the dangers of his profession. To do something else would mean admitting to himself just how unpleasant it had been, how much he had always dreamed of leaving it behind.
His lips pressed together so hard that the color went out of them and his chin wrinkled with the effort. He took a deep breath.
“I swore that once I was free of Cragin, I’d never put myself in the financial power of another being,” he said. “We’d have to be partners, fair and equal in property, finances – everything.”
“Of course,” Qui-Gon said, a bit taken aback.
Obi-Wan’s expression gentled. “I only want there to be love between us – no sense of duty or indebtedness. It’s... important to me. I have no wish to be kept by anyone, ever again.”
“I understand.” Qui-Gon smiled, relief pouring through him, filling their bond with love and hope. “I’ll make a few inquiries, and we can discuss the options available to us. For now, shall I see about getting the dried bacta out of your hair? I’ll send for some of the clothes you left in my rooms. Let’s find you a that shower.”
Obi-Wan’s smile turned to a grimace of pain as he moved to the edge of the bed and stood.
“Just a bit stiff, is all,” he muttered at Qui-Gon’s look of concern.
The rage welled up inside Qui-Gon again, as hot and fresh as if it had never abated. He closed his end of their bond, but not before Obi-Wan had felt it.
“That’s not like you.” He looked up into Qui-Gon’s eyes. “If loving me is going to ruin you, Master Jinn, I’d just as soon you didn’t. I’m not worth it.”
Qui-Gon sighed, releasing his anger as he had been taught in the crèche, fighting back the fear Obi-Wan’s last words had stirred inside him. “It seems we both have some healing to do. I won’t go dark, Obi-Wan. I wouldn’t be worthy of you if I did.”
He meant it. Obi-Wan must have known that because he smiled almost shyly and said nothing.
Qui-Gon had chosen a difficult path in the Force, but the choice was made. He would love Obi-Wan and, Force help him, work hard to avoid the pitfalls of fear and anger natural to such passionate attachments. He had best begin soon; perhaps he could meditate while Obi-Wan showered.
It occurred to him that he should check on the status of the men who had attacked Obi-Wan, simply to assure himself that he had not taken a life in anger. As if conjured by his thought, a picture of one of them appeared on the news feed. He turned up the volume.
“One of the men arrested at the scene was Bohethius Larkin, a long-time personal guard of Chancellor Palpatine, leading some to speculate that the attack on the courtesan was orchestrated as revenge for Senator Organa’s revelations earlier today.”
The view changed from a still photo of Larkin to surreptitious video taken of Bail Organa looking desperate and disheveled in the speeder bay outside the rooms where Qui-Gon had finally found Obi-Wan. He was holding one of the blasters at his side and speaking to a Coruscant Authority officer, while other officers led the miscreants away.
“This footage, taken at the scene, shows the obviously distraught Senator talking with Coruscant Authority officers called to the rooms where Kenobi lived, now known to have belonged to the Organa family until very recently. Organa was unavailable for comment, but a spokesperson for the Chancellor claimed that Larkin had not reported for work today and added that the Chancellor was not in any way responsible for an off-duty employee’s actions.”
Obi-Wan sat down on the edge of the bed, and Qui-Gon turned off the feed.
“Do you think Palpatine had anything to do with this?” Qui-Gon asked.
“Was there time?” Obi-Wan shook his head. “Part of the reason Larkin was so mad at me was his broken wrist – he assumed he’d been fired for missing his shift.” He turned to Qui-Gon, serious and shaken. “At least now you know you didn’t kill him – they don’t arrest corpses, do they?”
Qui-Gon took Obi-Wan in his arms and held him close. Obi-Wan had been aware of his fears, and not only understood them but also been anxious to alleviate them, despite his distaste for the man in question. As for Larkin, news that he remained among the living pleased Qui-Gon; death was too good for him.
“Let’s get you to a nice hot shower,” Qui-Gon said aloud. “You’ll feel much better afterward.”
Before Xanatos could find his way through the maze of dead Kleranoms and their paralyzed victims, he was set upon by two full-grown females, both desperate for a warm body in which to deposit their clutch. He quickly maneuvered around them, keeping his ‘saber ready and his back to the wall.
They crept closer as he edged along the wall, constantly testing his defenses. Shiny carapaces gleamed in the light of his ‘saber; Xanatos could easily see the sharpened ovipositors, poised and trembling with need.
“Sorry, ladies. I have a previous engagement,” he quipped as he backed into an airlock occupied by a dead Kleranom and the equally dead Ichthilin hosting her clutch. The two remaining Kleranoms pressed in closer. Xanatos found he was loath to kill them – these beings had been victimized by Orima Durante and his crew. They were motivated by biological imperatives, not malice.
He reached the control panel for the door just as one of them lunged for him. He stepped aside quickly and the creature hit the door hard, stunning itself momentarily. The second Kleranom stumbled over the wriggling body of the other, giving Xanatos just enough time to open the airlock door and escape. It shut imperfectly, but with the Kleranoms on the other side.
Now he just had to find Durante; he felt certain the man had not been among the Kleranoms’ victims – he was too slimy for that.
Durante heaved a sigh of relief when the Sith finally answered his comm. Not that the Sith Lord’s holographic image was very comforting, but at least this time his comm had connected.
“I procured substitute hosts, my Lord,” he said. “They are not Force-sensitive, but we should have enough viable offspring from this generation to continue the experiments and time enough to gather more sensitive hosts.”
The Sith didn’t speak for some time, then said only, “I see.”
“We have several days until the hatchlings emerge.” Durante knew the Sith was his best chance for escape. He was a decent enough pilot, but he couldn’t fly this monstrosity once it had been planted — not without help. “I’ll need a new crew to relocate the base.”
“The base and the experiments are no longer your concern,” the Sith said. The timbre of his voice made the flesh along Durante’s back crawl. “The operation has been compromised. There is no time to relocate the base. I’ve sent someone for you.”
“Thank you, my Lord.” Durante meant it; he was profoundly grateful to hear he’d be getting off this accursed rock. That he would soon be free from the burden of the Sith’s experiments – which he had never fully understood – was an added bonus. If all went well, he wouldn’t even have to explain what had happened to the three scientists the Sith had hired to compile data. Durante had a feeling that the Sith would not be pleased to know he’d let his bored crew make sport with them – a circumstance they had not survived for long.
The Sith closed the connection abruptly, much to Durante’s relief. His extreme measures had been enough to save his skin. The Sith was letting him go his own way, which was the best possible outcome as far as Durante was concerned.
Now all he had to do was wait for his transport.
Xanatos found Durante in the center of the hub, speaking to a shadowy figure on the comm. A man long accustomed to safety, he did not realize his vulnerability until it was too late.
The communications panel where Durante sat was in the center of a large, circular room – the base’s control center. Most of the screens and computer displays were dark, and the room was hidden in shadow.
He sensed no one else nearby; Durante was alone. Without his cadre of security forces, he was essentially helpless, so why did Xanatos’ heart beat faster? There was no danger to him here, no power that could equal his skill and training.
Still, he waited in the shadows, watching as Durante moved from the comm to the sensor array. Xanatos struggled to get his racing heartbeat under control. He had been careless when Durante captured him, or even the smuggler’s knowledge of his undercover persona would not have been enough to take him down. He felt the pressure of the place, the memories of his torture pressing behind his eyeballs. The fat man stared at the sensor display, drumming his fingers.
“Waiting for someone?” Xanatos stepped out of the shadows, igniting the ‘saber in his hand. The look of surprise and horror on Durante’s face was almost comical. “If you want a ride off this rock, I’m here.”
“No.”Durante shook his head, flabby jowls trembling. Shock and terror showed in his eyes, though he kept his voice calm and controlled. “You had best not be here when the others come for me, unless you want back in the chair.”
“You’re really not a very convincing liar,” Xanatos said. “A Force-blind infant could see you don’t believe a word of it.”
Durante regained some of his composure. He stared at Xanatos, sharp eyes taking in every detail of his stance. “You’re here for revenge, then? Not a very Jedi sentiment.”
“I’m here to take you back to Coruscant, where you will stand trial for your crimes.” It occurred to Xanatos that the recycled air in this place had begun to reek of blood and decay.
“Oh? So that’s it.” Durante laughed as he pulled a large blaster from a hiding place in the console. “Unlike you, I will not be taken without a fight.”
Xanatos bit back the surge of rage he felt and held his ‘saber ready. Durante flinched at the hum of the blade as it moved, and Xanatos noted the wet stain spreading across the front of his white trousers.
“Come with me quietly, and I won’t hurt you.” The words burned in his throat, but he meant them.
“I have very powerful friends,” Durante stammered. “Friends who funded this operation. They’ll see to it I never stand trial.”
Xanatos crept closer, every nerve tingling. Durante would fire soon, and Xanatos would be ready. “I’m sure you’re right,” he said softly, “But will they save your neck or simply separate it from your shoulders? Loyalty doesn’t seem to be a linchpin of this operation, if the bodies I passed on the way in are any indication.”
Durante’s florid complexion blanched, and his trembling hand pulled the trigger.
The bolt went wide, and Xanatos rushed him with Force-assisted speed. One swipe of his ‘saber and Durante was disarmed, in more ways than one.
The weapon skittered away across the deck plating, along with Durante’s mechanical hand and sizable chunk of the flesh and blood portion of his arm.
Durante's howl of pain degenerated into a string of curses as he writhed on the deck.
"You're nothing! Do you hear me you little Jedi twat? Nothing you can do to me will change the fact that every one of my crew had you a dozen times!" His voice lowered as Xanatos moved closer, but the fear on his face was now masked with contempt. "I left you weeping like a child. No matter what you do to me, it'll be my face in your dreams that makes you wake screaming. You'll never escape the memories of what we did to you, so go ahead and kill me!"
Xanatos started at the man red-faced and screaming before him, feeling sick and heavy inside. The lightsaber seemed to burn in his hand, so full was he with the desire for vengeance.
"You're not worth it," he hissed, though every nerve in his body screamed to strike the man down. It would be so easy to put an end to him once and for all, prove his strength beyond a doubt.
Durante grew still and quiet, then gradually began to shake. Xanatos started as the man's belly began to jump with silent laughter. "Is that how it is? The proud Jedi, so stoic and honorable? You weren't so above it all when we were riding you like a cheap whore." Orima smiled, his face full of spite and malice. "Or maybe you secretly enjoyed our time together? Maybe instead of waking up screaming, you wake up hard, longing for a good, hard-"
Xanatos didn't think, he just let his 'saber swing, stopping with the blade close enough to Durante's throat to singe his collar. It took all of his will to hold back those final inches it would take to finish him."Do you really want to die so badly?"
Durante was blessedly silent for a moment, and Xanatos stepped slowly back, though every cell in his body seemed to cry out for a final, swift stroke to end the man and his evil once for all. He could feel the sweat bead and begin to roll under his tunics.
"Get up," he said. It was an order that Durante followed with great difficulty, his bulk and missing arm making it nearly impossible to rise from the floor. The artery in his severed arm opened from the strain, and he began to whimper.
"I can give you money," he said.
"I don't want – or need – anything from you." The tip of Xanatos' lightsaber dipped, trembling as it neared the floor. “You'll serve your time for what you've done to your own men, to me. And to Fawks."
"Fawks?" Durante chuckled. "Still worrying that old bone? Fawks was nothing. I bought him outright on the rim, just like a hundred before him. No one in the Galaxy cares about what happened to him, or to you, for that matter. Jedi are supposed to be able to take care of themselves, after all."
Xanatos steadied his grip on his lightsaber, inching it closer to the man on the floor. "You do want to die, don't you?"
"No," Durante pushed himself backward across the polished deck, still unable to get his feet under him. "Just making conversation."
The man struggled to push himself up, but the deck was slicked now with his blood. Xanatos watched for a moment, feeling something new inside as he watched Durante wriggle around in his own blood and piss. Something like pleasure, or the deep sense of satisfaction after a good meal.
"Let me help you with that," Xanatos said. He offered a hand up to Durante. Warily, the man took it.
Xanatos pulled him to his feet and swiftly laid the edge of his saber against the flesh at the stub of Durante's arm.
Durante screamed in pain and fell back to the floor.
"Don't be such a child," Xanatos quipped. "I had to stop the bleeding, didn't I?"
Durante looked up at him then, and his eyes widened in fear. He inched backwards, heels digging at the slick floor. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry! Please, please don't..."
"Don't what?" Xanatos smiled, feeling the power begin to flow through him. He reached out with the Force and lifted the groveling man into the air, holding him there by a Force grip on his neck. "String you up by your putrid guts?"
The man's feet scrabbled through the air beneath him, finding no purchase, while his hands clawed at the invisible fist now tightening around his throat. Xanatos felt the Force begin to flow through him, sweet, exhilarating. He let Durante drop before he lost consciousness.
"But I don't even need to use the Force with you, do I? You're no match for me at all, without your minions and your drugs." Xanatos paced on front of Durante, who still tried feebly to get away. "I don't even need this."
He swiped his lightsaber in a burning arc that came close to Durante's midsection, chuckling at the frightened squeak that escaped his lips.
"I know! Perhaps I should see how many pieces I can cut you into before you die?" He let the blade swing again, cutting a sliver off Durante's ear. The smell of burnt hair filled the air. "I bet it could take days, were I careful."
Durante said nothing, eyes wide and jowls trembling with fear. He began to whimper and mewl.
Xanatos crouched beside him, putting his leather-gloved mechanical hand on a flabby, quivering shoulder. "No worries, my friend. I haven't the patience for that."
He stood and stepped away with his back to Durante, then whirled on him, 'saber flashing. Durante's uninjured arm fell away from his body at the shoulder. He didn't even scream; in fact, he'd gone as pale as paper and didn't seem able to speak at all. Xanatos powered down his 'saber and leaned over him, placing a hand on his ruined shoulder.
"See, that was too fast -- now you're in shock." He drummed his fingers on Durante's singed collar. "You don't feel much when you're in shock, wasn't that why you kept the stims on hand for me? Shock ruins the fun -- I see that now."
"P-p-please," Durante whispered.
Xanatos made a clicking noise with his tongue. "You really ARE gutless, aren't you? Well, I'm sure you're not literally gutless -- a hypothesis I intend to test soon enough -- but it is disappointing to hear you begging so soon."
Something inside Durante's collar caught Xanatos' eye -- a glimpse of silvery-white against the florid skin. He pulled aside the dark fabric, exposing a tight little white braid encircling Durante's flabby neck. Xanatos snatched it off, feeling the rage boil in him afresh. He paced away from the insensible lump of flesh that was Orima Durante, hiding his sudden pain from the man, even though he was certainly in no condition to enjoy it.
Xanatos found it simple enough to turn his pain to anger, and whirled on Durante once again, slapping his fat face until those pale eyes opened. "How DARE you wear this! You have no right!"
The slack mouth quirked at the corner, "I have as much right as you, to a bit of remembrance. What was that to you? A memento from your Jedi lover?"
"That is not your concern," Xanatos said, his voice low with menace. "It was a gift to me. You took it."
"You took it first, didn't you?" Durante said with unusual fervor. "The way I took you? Your Jedi whore meant nothing to you, did he?"
Xanatos slapped the man hard, and then turned away, unsure of what Durante was getting at and why it bothered him. Obviously, the man was losing his mind.
"What anyone does or does not mean to me is none of your business!" This was it; Xanatos was tired of his game, suddenly longing to end it. He ignited his 'saber and spun to deal the final blow, knowing in his heart that Durante had already robbed him of any pleasure in the act and hating him all the more for it.
A green lightsaber blocked the blow. Xanatos stood for a moment, dumbfounded by what he saw. Bruck stood before him, face ashen. His pale hair glowed in the dimness, his lips pressed into a thin line. The sizzle of their 'sabers filled the air. Xanatos clenched his fist around the braid in his other hand, wondering how the sight before him could possibly be real.
The suspended, silent moment was broken by Durante. "I knew you'd come," he whispered, lips twitching with an attempt at a smile.
Xanatos stepped back, disengaging their 'sabers. Too many questions presented themselves, so he uttered the most banal. "How did you find me?"
"I'll always find you, Xan," Bruck said evenly. He moved into a defensive posture over Durante. "You think I'd let you run off and fall to the Dark?"
"You don't understand," Xanatos said. "I came here to capture him, to bring him to justice!"
"I'm sure that was your intention." Bruck nodded solemnly. "But were you not about to split an armless man in two? Surely he is no longer any threat?"
Durante leaned his bulk toward Bruck's legs, pawing at his boots with the stump of his arm. "He was going to kill me -- you've got to stop him! Please, please..."
Bruck took no notice of the man at his feet, holding Xanatos with his clear, compassionate gaze. "Open our bond, Xan," he said softly. "Let the Light in and all will be well."
"I can do this without you," Xan shouted. "That's why I came here on my own -- to prove to you and all the others that I'm still a Jedi."
Bruck said nothing to that, and Xanatos found his silence more infuriating than compassion or condescension would have been. The anger flared again.
"You don't know what it was like. You don't know what this man and his henchmen did to me."
Xanatos could see the pain etched across Bruck's face, even fancied he could feel it through their closed bonds. Yet his voice remained clear, his tone passive when he spoke.
"That is true," he said. "But I was with you, nonetheless. I held you in the spirit and tried to comfort you. I told you they were coming for you. I know you remember."
Xanatos sliced the air in front of him with his 'saber. "If you were with me, then how can you protect this scum?"
Durante flinched and cried out at the movement of Xanatos' blade, though it came nowhere near him.
"It is not him I am protecting," Bruck said, evenly.
"Stand aside!" Xanatos rushed Bruck, 'saber flashing. Bruck blocked the blow with an economy of movement that spoke to Xanatos of his exhaustion. Their blades sizzled for a moment before Xanatos stepped back. "Don't make me fight you."
"I have no control over your actions," Bruck said. "You may choose to fight or not, but I will not let you take a life in anger."
"That's too bad." Xanatos attacked, knowing Bruck, in his weakened state, would be no match for him. Bruck made only defensive moves, but managed to lead the fight away from Durante. Xanatos realized this and broke away, edging closer to the broken man. "He deserves to die, and worse."
"People seldom get what they deserve, or there'd be no hope for any of us." Bruck moved with surprising swiftness to block Xanatos' move.
"Is that so?" Xanatos sneered, knowing he would soon have Bruck's defense worn down. "And why would there be no hope for you, my sanctimonious lover? You threw yourself off the pyre tower to save me, and still feel you must rely on the beneficence of the Force?"
Bruck's face went almost gray in the dim light, stricken by his words. It gave Xanatos no satisfaction.
Durante lay sprawled on the floor now, muttering. He raised his voice, looking at Bruck. "You know, don't you? Never told him, though." He giggled madly. "That would ruin things, I expect."
"Be still!" Bruck shouted, barely blocking Xanatos' attack.
Xanatos stepped back, looking between Durante and Bruck, trying to decide what was happening. The ravings that Xanatos took for shock-induced nonsense seemed to be affecting Bruck deeply, putting him off his defenses.
"Step aside," Xanatos said. "I don't want to hurt you."
"Then put down your 'saber, and we'll take him back to Coruscant."
"No." Xanatos had been holding back, and they both knew it. Now he was ready to pull out all the stops. "Why are you doing this? You can't win against me in your condition. I'm so very strong, now."
He flew at Bruck, hammering his defenses. The younger Knight had been avoiding using aerials, but Xanatos had no such handicap. He came at Bruck from above, raining blows down on him until his knees buckled. Xanatos used the opportunity to once again lunge at Durante. Bruck flung himself in the path of the blow, but brought his 'saber up a fraction of a second too late. Xanatos pulled back at the last moment, so that Bruck's arm was deeply wounded, but not severed.
Xanatos held his 'saber to the side and watched his lover. Durante sobbed piteously, trying to sit up with Bruck half lying across him. The smuggler spoke to Bruck, but his accented Basic had become all but unintelligible to Xanatos. Bruck looked at Durante, blinking slowly.
"I'm sorry," Bruck whispered to the man who cried and babbled at him.
"You can't stop me," Xanatos said. "Get out of my way, Bruck. He doesn't deserve your protection."
Bruck pulled himself up onto his knees beside Durante, and gently touched the bastard's sweating face with one long-fingered hand. Xanatos felt the rage surge within him at the sight. His ‘saber swung as though of its own accord, but Bruck was too fast for him.
With a flick of his wrist, the green lightsaber flashed; in an instant Bruck had cleanly bisected the gibbering mass that was Orima Durante.
Xanatos stood over them, mouth agape.
Bruck shut off the 'saber and dropped the hilt. His body began to shake with sobbing.
"Wasn't him I was protecting," Bruck said softly, long fingers rubbing at the corners of his eyes.
Part 30
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