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Nothing in the Dark - continued

(continued from part 7)

The transport to Heew was large and well-appointed. Once Qui-Gon and Casir had put their belongings into their cabins, they had gone to the lounge where a meal had been readied and the Hewn ambassador waited.

After the ambassador bid them good evening, the two Jedi sat together for a time going over their itinerary and last minute details. They would be retiring early as well, to give themselves a chance to begin to adjust to the long Hewn days and short nights.

A waitdroid worked quietly around the room, having brought the Jedi hot chai. In the casual atmosphere, Casir found herself sitting next to not a contemplative master but a sleeping one.

"What did I ever do to deserve this?" Obi-Wan asked out loud as he stood, despondent, muscles taut with anxiety.

Nothing, padawan, Qui-Gon thought softly but forcefully. He felt no disorientation, quite the opposite. It was a relief to be connected to Obi-Wan's mind again. He longed to ameliorate his padawan's grief, but found he had no corporeal form in whatever plane they occupied. Instead, he concentrated on willing all of the power of his physical presence into his mental voice.

You did nothing. This was not your fault.

Master!

The words came into Obi-Wan's head in his master's voice. He sounded as if he was in the room. Obi-Wan longed to open his eyes, to see him. His chest heaved and his breath hitched but he did not open his eyes. He could not afford to lose this illusion.

Not . . . my . . . fault, Obi-Wan thought, struggling to control his breathing. Not my fault.

It is not your fault, Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon's voice confirmed. The guilt is not yours to bear. You have nothing to be ashamed of. Let go of your pain. Relinquish it to the Force and you will see I am right.

Much as I would protect you from the evils of the universe, we know too well just how much is not in our control. Control what it is in your power to control Obi-Wan, let the rest take care of itself. Trust your instincts. They can preserve you.

"Master," Obi-Wan spoke aloud, "I can't."

You can, Obi-Wan. You must.

"I can't," Obi-Wan repeated in anguish, "I don't have the strength."

You will and you must, Qui-Gon's tone firmed.

If all else failed, he knew he could count on Obi-Wan's obedience.

Use the Force, Obi-Wan. Clear your mind and remember your purpose. Let nothing deter you from what is right. You know the way, but you must find the will to reach it. Open your eyes.

"No," Obi-Wan sobbed. He could not abide the thought of finding himself back in the reality of the empty cabin.

Qui-Gon's tone softened. Open your eyes, Obi-Wan.

"I am here."

Obi-Wan would have sworn he heard the words aloud. He opened his eyes and Qui-Gon stood before him.

"You're . . ."

"I would be if I could, Padawan. Your pain is great, but your light is greater. Persevere, Obi-Wan. Return to me."

With that he faded.

Obi-Wan reached out.

On the transport, Qui-Gon tumbled limply to the floor.

Qui-Gon's form was gone and Obi-Wan knew his master had not been there, the encounter buoyed him immeasurably nevertheless. Yes, he would persevere. If Qui-Gon could somehow come across the expanse of space, Obi-Wan would find a way to do the same.

Obi-Wan checked the soul bond. That shield was holding. He sat on the sleep pallet, then rose again immediately to turn the sonics back on. Reseating himself on the pallet, he used the sound to clear his mind. He settled his breathing and was able to slip into meditation at last. He reinforced the shield on the soul bond once and then again, visualizing it as perfect, impenetrable sheets of transparisteel, as impervious to outside influence as the hull of the ship was to the vagaries of space.

Finding his mind free of earlier encumbrances, Obi-Wan was able to deepen his meditation. He needed to examine exactly what he knew and what he did not. What was him and what was . . . not. If the other man thought they were playing a game, Obi-Wan would show him he had badly underestimated his opponent. He was Jedi. The Force was with him. He would prevail against his would-be lover; his tormentor; his bonded.

Mekall careened to his feet, head spinning. He willed his heart rate and breathing back to normal as he got his bearings. Ship, cockpit, Obi-Wan, Coruscant flickered through his mind.

What was that? he wondered when his thoughts cleared. A dream? He hadn't fallen asleep meditating since he was a child. He had never fallen asleep using meditation for a mind probe before. It had been like no other dream he could remember. Thick and airless, he had been surrounded by a vast nothingness, yet something had been pulling him relentlessly down and down and down.

Bone dry, Mekall went to get a drink of water. It took three cups before he felt less like he was gasping for air. He went to check the oxygen mix. The filtration and flow rates were stable and in the green. He returned to the cockpit. Overheated now, took off his jacket and tossed it on the co-pilot's seat. He found himself breathing hard, feeling dazed.

Stop it, he thought. This is ludicrous. He took a 'reader and some tech journal micros out and sat down. You're tired and you're letting it get to you. Knock it off, he scolded himself. He cued up the reading, but while it searched for the chapter he had requested, his eyes closed. The 'reader slid out of his hand and fell to the floor.

Obi-Wan moved from the sleep pallet to the floor, creating a zone of comfort around himself with blankets and pillows. He sat unmoving, deeply immersed in his meditations and endeavoring to go deeper. With each cycle of thought, he felt more secure, stronger, his sense of individuality definite and unaccosted.

Layer by layer, Obi-Wan released his ties to Mekall, envisioning each contact, making it black and white in his mind. He stripped them all of their heat and emotion, freeing himself from their insidious pull.

Seeing as if from outside himself, Obi-Wan went over events since he had last been with Qui-Gon. With his memory back and the emotion of the soul bond at a remove, he was able to reexamine and evaluate the recent past. He viewed each episode: the negotiations on Kiradian, the shooting, the beatings, his near rescue and his abduction by Dharuje, this time succeeding in accepting his fears and anger and releasing them into the Force. His time on Dharuje's ship and the Ecenian's venal abuses were proving tougher. After that it went to grey except for transient blurs of being carried and ministered to. Until the fog dissipated with Mekall's saying, "It's time to wake up."

When Obi-Wan had opened his eyes, Mekall felt like salvation and heaven all wrapped in one too-good- looking-really package. It had been like a bolt of lightning. He could hardly form a thought when he looked at him, had been surprised to discover anyone else was present.

Mekall had consumed him. Even after he had regained his identity, being with Mekall had been the most important thing. Deliberating on it, even with the shield in place, Obi-Wan's mind strove for their connection. He felt his cock harden just thinking about Mekall. He halted that before it could progress.

I was where I was meant to be when all this began and I will be again at its conclusion.

I can no longer leave any avenue open to him, Obi-Wan resolved. I will not submit.

Obi-Wan brought peace to his thoughts by picturing his master, willing himself to where he wanted to be. With startling clairty, he saw Qui-Gon rise off his bed as though stung. Master, the mental cry escaped before he could stop it.

Not wanting to cause Qui-Gon pain, Obi-Wan quickly honed his focal point, narrowing it until he saw only his master's eyes, using the sanctuary of their beloved color to eliminate conscious thought. Obi-Wan filled himself with them, sinking into their sapphire depths, willing his mind to fortress-like serenity. It felt right. This was what he wanted, what he needed.

On Coruscant, the Jedi master sat bolt upright in bed. He had had a vision of Obi-Wan so clear, momentarily he had the distinct impression his padawan was in the room.

"Obi-Wan," he said aloud.

Qui-Gon got out of bed, his mind reaching for the already fading image. He was halfway across the room before it occurred to him that he was back in his quarters on Coruscant.

It was dark outside, or at least as dark as the upper levels of the city planet ever got. Walking over to the terminal, he activated it, bringing up the time and any recent messages. Jalem, Mace, Healer Sollas and, of course, Yoda. There would be a lecture on duty and a long day's meditation on Master Yoda's short list.

Qui-Gon smiled. None of that mattered. Obi-Wan was alive. He was sure of it now. Imprisoned, but alive and evidently not in physical peril.

Qui-Gon walked through the apartment, his mind at once anxious and becalmed. It was too late to go out and too early to get up. At a mental impasse, he returned to his bedroom, folded his legs beneath him and settled into meditation.

On his feet again before he was fully awake, Mekall found himself at a total loss. What was I doing? What's happening? He stilled himself to recover. When he had, he found the 'reader at his feet and bent to retrieve it. The screen was black. The charge had completely run down. He had been out for hours. How long?

Mekall wanted to check the chronometer, but he was so tired he had to sit down first. When he did, his eyelids thwarted his effort, lowering even as he tried in vain to recall what he had been looking for and he slipped back under.

Sapphire surged into blinding pearlescent light. Obi-Wan opened his eyes defensively, seeking to ward off damage or danger. As his mind raced to interpret what was happening, his instincts told him to accept this instead of fighting it. Feeling instinct to be his last stronghold, he took a slow breath, braced himself for the worst and reclosed his eyes. When he did, he found instantaneous calm. His meditation began to open up, his thoughts paging back through images of Mekall.

Kneeling in front of him, hugging him to his chest as he shook.

That first day had been a horror. Mekall had been a little impatient, but ultimately quite kind.

Rubbing circles on his back to ease his discomfort as he became reacquainted with hangovers.

Cradling him in his arms.

All that had been real, not the dreams of a fevered imagination.

Mekall embracing him.

Mekall tumbling into his kisses despite his best instincts.

Kindness? Gentleness? Obi-Wan thought. No profit in that, to use Mekall's frame of reference. If his intent was to turn me, there were easier and far less personally costly routes to doing so.

He could've subjugated me, wiped my mind clean and sold me to the highest bidder. Or turned me over to the authorities, if he wanted a quick, easy out. He didn't. He went gently, expected to leave me with the rest of my memories intact. When that didn't work, he clothed me and fed me, helped me and held me.

How did he abuse me? By healing me, consoling me and taking me step by step through a process which led inevitably to my recovery? By feeding his all into the bond when common sense dictated he stop? By making love to me while the rest of his life went down the drain?

As scared and confused as I was, he could have taken advantage of me. He resisted again and again. When I searched his feelings back at the house, there was no duplicity, only confusion and guilt and self-loathing.

Obi-Wan found himself filled with a genuine warmth and the sensation of being loved, valued. It felt odd juxtaposed with the enmity he had been harboring. Obi-Wan sought the core of what he was feeling. Were his shields holding or was he being tampered with? He found he was still safely ensconced behind the barriers he had created.

Could these feelings for Mekall be his own? Could the bond be a true one?

Mekall awoke sluggish, his eyes nearly glued shut with sleep. He fought them open, tried to get up but found his body resisted moving. He forced himself to sit forward, despite the muzziness in his head and the siren call of the obliterating blanket of blackness.

Something in him told him he had to get up, to make himself move, to break out of this. He pulled himself forward in the chair with great effort. He put his hands on the console edge to lever himself upright and found himself on his knees instead. Get up, he thought thickly. Get up. But he was so tired and his body felt so heavy. His thoughts were like black polylubricant sludge. He reached for the console edge and missed it. Thrown off balance, he keeled over, wedged between the base of the chair and the forward control panel.

Obi-Wan surfaced. Though the meditation had turned, though he was in the midst of the bond again, he was neither lulled into inertia nor drowning in uncontainable passion, only filled with the rightness of it and feeling something like peace. Or as close to peace as he had felt at any time in the recent past.

A crease of concentration appeared between Obi-Wan's eyebrows as he tested what he was feeling within the Force. There was no more pain, no struggle or torment. It became apparent to him that he had worked through to a truth. Seeking to embrace it, he reached for the soul bond and encountered a jarring displacement. He rose, finding his face covered by a sheen of sweat. Where were Hilty's boots?

Unable to find them, Obi-Wan left the cabin in his stocking feet.

Mekall? Obi-Wan reached out to him with his mind.

Mekall did not answer.

Obi-Wan stretched out, seeking, expecting to find a Mekall disinclined to listen to him or even blocking defensively. Not only was there no reply, there was no sense of his mental presence.

Obi-Wan called out to him.

Arriving at the cockpit, Obi-Wan did not see Mekall's head over the top of the his chair. He retraced his steps, looking for Mekall in the lounge. He was not there. Nor was he in the other cabin.

Obi-Wan opened the bond again, broadening his field of perception. Now there was a blankness like com static at the back of it. He went back to the cockpit once more. This time he entered. He walked toward the viewport, slipping between the pilot and copilot's chairs and found Mekall, twisted and motionless.

Obi-Wan went to one knee beside him. He felt his throat, relieved to find a pulse. Obi-Wan rose and checked the readings. They were on course. He walked around and knelt by Mekall's shoulders. Grasping under his arms, he pulled Mekall loose. Then he scooped him up and carried him to the second cabin.

In the cabin, Obi-Wan lay Mekall on the sleep pallet. He tapped Mekall's cheek to rouse him, but without result. Mekall's skin was clammy to the touch. Obi-Wan took Mekall's face between his hands, intent on connecting with him through the Force, seeking to reactivate their nearly extinguished bond.

Seized by vertigo, Obi-Wan jerked his hands away, taking an awkward step or two back, almost losing his balance, breathing as if he had been running.

Grounding himself with a few deep breaths, Obi-Wan watched Mekall a moment before stepping back in. He sat on the edge of the sleep pallet and sought Mekall's Force signature. It was weak and fluctuating. Obi-Wan took Mekall's hand, closed his eyes and opened himself to the possibility of their bond, breathing down into questing concentration.

Amidst nondescript silvery grey, Obi-Wan found the remains of the soul bond, faint threads which he held as he continued seeking a manifestation of Mekall's life force. He could not locate it. He took the remains of Mekall's side of the link and tried to join their muted strands together, to reenergize the connection from his side and trace that back to Mekall. Mekall's threads seemed to resist reconnecting, but Obi-Wan's will prevailed.

Obi-Wan found himself yanked into nothingness. Which ended as abruptly as it began as he landed on the ground with a thick, muddy splut. It was raining, turning the air nearly the same brackish grey-brown as the ground. Raising his head, he saw a stormy yellowy-orange sky.

Larral? How? Had the ship been intercepted?

Dizzy, Obi-Wan took a minute to orient himself. They could not be on Larral. If they had been, they would already be dead from the toxic atmosphere.

Obi-Wan got to his feet. Soaked to the skin and getting wetter by the second, he looked around in all directions for a clue or a landmark. There was none, but it was raining so hard it was difficult to see. He realigned his vision to make allowance for the interference, then scanned around himself again.

There. There was something. He began to walk toward the only other object in the immediate area, extending both outward and within to try to extrapolate what had happened. It made the dizziness increase, he staggered a step or two aside, but kept going.

Twenty paces brought him to his goal and his knees. The dizziness got even worse as he landed beside it.

Beside him.

It was Mekall and he was not breathing.

Obi-Wan touched Mekall, hoping the lack of movement was a trick of the rain, but it was not. He could feel how cold Mekall was through his clothes.

Mekall lay half-turned on his front. Obi-Wan rolled him over onto his back. The movement made his head swim and his stomach recoil. While trying to ground himself against the feeling, he cleaned the mud from Mekall's face as best he could, getting it out of his nose and mouth.

Obi-Wan put his hand to Mekall's chest but found no heartbeat. He reached for the pulse point in his neck and fell sprawled over Mekall as even that small movement made him so woozy he almost lost consciousness.

Fighting back the black wave that threatened to subsume him, Obi-Wan raised himself up slowly. He centered, willing the haziness away from his primary thinking with difficulty. He straightened his back and breathed through the disequillibrium. Then he moved up measuredly until he was beside Mekall's head. His braid swung forward as he pinched off Mekall's nose and breathed into his mouth, counting seconds and repeating. His concern grew as no answering breaths were forthcoming. Worried that Mekall might have swallowed water or mud, Obi-Wan wanted to turn him on his side, but that stood an equal chance of causing him to swallow more water and mud.

Looking around again, Obi-Wan saw shelter where he was certain there had been none before. He breathed in and out to brace himself, then slid his arms under Mekall's back and knees and rose to his feet. Obi-Wan stood still to give his besieged sense of balance a chance to adjust, then made his way toward what turned out to be a tumbledown wooden structure. Leaning, sagging and leaking notwithstanding, it would afford some protection from the downpour.

Obi-Wan sank smoothly to his knees, carefully placing Mekall on a drier section of the dirt floor under a slightly less decayed part of the roof. Covered in mud and beyond soaked through, Obi-Wan took off his sweater, folded it and put it under Mekall's head.

He was so tired. And wet and cold. Where were they? He sent a tendril of inquiry around himself but got no natural feel for a real place. Could they be inside the genesis of the bond itself? Wretched as the planet was, Larral had been where they met and fell in love. Or perhaps he had succeeded in tracing the bond back into Mekall's mind and it was sheltering itself where Mekall had sought refuge in life.

As Obi-Wan watched, Mekall stopped breathing.

Or maybe, Obi-Wan thought indignantly, since he was already living on Hell, Mekall had gone there in his head to die.

Losing his temper gave Obi-Wan renewed purpose. He rolled Mekall on his side, ignoring swells of disorientation. He placed his hands on Mekall's back under his sweater. Closing his eyes, Obi-Wan concentrated on envisioning the inner construction of Mekall's chest. In his mind, he saw Mekall's lungs and pushed a pulse of Force expulsion into and through them.

Mekall's mouth opened and a rush of air and a blast of mud issued forth onto the ground in front of him. His gagging turned to choking which became coughing and settled into breathing by turns. It took everything Obi-Wan had in him to rise up enough to look at Mekall. Though Mekall's eyes were not open, Obi-Wan was satisfied by the steady motion of his chest and the color returning to his face.

Obi-Wan trembled. He remained cold, but Mekall was far colder. He had to find a way to warm him. Obi-Wan crossed Mekall's arms over his chest and lay down on the ground behind him. His consciousness winked and his stomach churned. He put his own arms over Mekall's. Obi-Wan's breathing became choppy as his vision began to grey. Setting his jaw, he emptied his mind of everything except the thought of warmth and warming and felt himself begin to fall.

Obi-Wan's ears filled with the rush of wind and his eyes shut against the feel of it. As he plummeted toward the ground, the dizziness and sickness nearly overcame him. He knew he should center to prepare for an impact, but all he could do was drop.

Mekall woke flat on his back with a headache to beat any of the ones he had had since this started. He took internal inventory - all his parts seemed to be intact - using the time to gain his equilibrium. When he had, he got up to investigate his surroundings. He was in a room which was grey everywhere: walls, floor, ceiling, doors, all the same. At least he presumed there were doors, as rooms usually had them. He could see no evidence of any.

Where had he been? What had he been doing?

Where's the cockpit? he thought as his mind caught up with itself. Were we intercepted? Were -

We?

Oh hells. Where's Obi-Wan?

Mekall cleared his thoughts and sought the bond. What he encountered felt wrong, vacated; its appearance was mottled and misshapen. He made the connection anyway. He had to know what was happening.

Obi-Wan's descent ended without impact. He stopped, but his head was still spinning. He leaned forward nauseated. Fortunately there was nothing in his stomach. A cold chill surrounded Mekall, but he soldiered on. An entangled stream of blue and green energy snaked up a short distance away. Mekall sent his conscious aspect out to meet it. When the two elements converged, the cold turned to burning ice.

Mekall's closed eyes teared as he shook with the effort of maintaining contact. Pain usually cleared his thoughts, but they and the bond were not responding as he expected. Mekall started walking. Before he had taken five steps, there was a seismic shift in his head. Lifted up and slammed forward into the wall, he dropped to the floor and did not move.

Obi-Wan was assailed by a blinding bolt of light that he felt as well as saw. He raised his arm to protect his eyes. As he did, he was knocked off his feet. He landed splayed out on his back, unconscious.

Drifting. Formless yet somehow himself. Mekall appeared ahead of him, drifting as well. Obi-Wan propelled himself forward, to catch up to Mekall. Mekall did not seem to sense him. Coming up behind him, Obi-Wan reached for Mekall's shoulder, but his hand passed through. There was nothing there, nothing to him. Nothing at all.

A thick fog filled the room, breaking over Mekall as he began to come around. Mired in confusion, he could not recall what he had been doing that had seemed so important. Warm now and more tired than anything else, weighed down by an unnamable loss, he sank, unresisting, into oblivion.

Nothing at all, Obi-Wan thought as he woke. He lowered his arm experimentallly from over his eyes. The painful light was gone. Wherever he was was featureless, he could see no walls or windows, make out no up or down; even using the Force, he could discern nothing about this place. The oddness of it was doing little to help his embattled equilibrium and his unsettled innards.

He felt as if he were dreaming, but knew he was not asleep. He tried to temper his reeling head. His thoughts, such as they were, were amorphous, seeming to want to flow out and stay there. It would be all too easy to let go. He was bone-weary and sick of feeling so awful. Why did he feel so awful? What had happened?

Eliminating his present confusion as much as he could, Obi-Wan delved into what was hovering at the edge of his awareness.

A dream that was not a dream. Drifting . . . Away? Toward. Toward what?

It slipped from his grasp. He tried again.

A dream that was not a dream.

Falling. Darkness. Flash of light . . .

Mekall.

He had been holding Mekall in his arms. Why had he, how could he have forgotten? Panicky, Obi-Wan got up and began to feel around, seeking his bondmate. As he searched fruitlessly, his memory tried to fade again. He fought it, anchoring himself to details.

The bond. He had tried to rekindle the bond. Had found it weak, its threads faint or broken, Mekall's side even more decayed than his own.

Rain, drenching rain. Cold and mud. Annihilating dizziness. Mekall, dead. He had gotten Mekall to breathe, found shelter, and, with the last of his reserves, taken Mekall in his arms to warm him.

And then here. Wherever here was, whatever it was.

Finding no Mekall and no boundaries, Obi-Wan worked his way back to his starting point in concentric circles. He simply sat and breathed for a time, endeavoring to rejuvenate himself and center. It was extremely difficult. The dizziness wanted to claim him; the creeping grey around him seemed to be trying to get inside him. It took every ounce of discipline he had to order his thinking.

What was this place? Was it a manifestation of himself or of Mekall or of the two of them together? That had the ring of truth.The two of them together. Or, more to the point, the mess he had made of that. He had rejected Mekall and everything their joining represented. He had denied the bond. Had tried to destroy it. Were they still linked? He reached for their connection. Its existence was indistinct, but, Obi-Wan felt, not gone. He knew that Mekall had not been trying to harm him. Fear and malignity had affected his meditations. His decisions had gone not where they would but where he had directed them. Until . . . Qui-Gon.

His master had led him back, away from the darkness which had tried to influence him as he lay ravaged on the floor of that cabin. Toward the truth. The evil was not in himself or Mekall, but in the events and the choices of those who had perpetrated them.

Obi-Wan reconfigured his meditation, trying to uncover an avenue that would lead to Mekall.

After what he had done, had he any right to ask Mekall to forgive him? He had acted badly, but Mekall was not blameless. Perhaps if he reached out, offered himself anew to Mekall, to their union.

While the meditation did not show him Mekall, it helped alleviate his vertigo and left Obi-Wan confident enough of this path to reexamine the remnants of the bond he had accessed on Mekall's ship. He intentionally sought the blurry nothingness that had brought them to this pass and found himself pitched headlong into the pouring rain.

Obi-Wan could not suppress a loud sigh. Given the circumstances, however, he decided being back where he had started might be as good as it was going to get. He stood and scoured the landscape for Mekall. As he expected, Mekall lay twenty paces ahead and still as . . .

Obi-Wan stopped the next syllable from forming in his thoughts.

Sprinting to Mekall's side, Obi-Wan knelt to pick him up and get him out of the downpour. Instead, he found himself twenty paces away with no warning. Obi-Wan got up and went to Mekall again. He knelt down and was about to slip his arms under Mekall when he was again pushed away. He pushed back and was flung off, tumbling heels over head for a good distance.

Okay, that was not going to work. Perhaps he was approaching this too aggresively. Time to try something else.

Obi-Wan sat up, crossed his legs and closed his eyes. He set aside the wetness and the muddiness, his exhaustion and the recurring dizziness. He immersed himself in recollections of pleasure the two of them had shared. As his soul opened to that prospect, his body warmed with desire of and for the bond. Feeling the rightness of it, Obi-Wan rose, eyes still shut, and divested himself of his clothes, literally leaving himself naked before whatever the Force had in store for him.

The rain stopped, but the feeling of distance from Mekall grew rather than lessened. Obi-Wan sensed that they could not afford to be parted from one another much longer or the bond would not be salvagable. Nor would they be, for that matter. A tiny ship dragged across space to burn up in some far flung planet's atmosphere, neither of their fates ever to be known. A small spire of dread apprehension rose in him. There is no death, he quelled it, there is the Force. If this bond is destined, than we will not perish in an anonymous night.

More determined than ever, Obi-Wan redoubled his effort. This time, instead of stopping at Mekall as one half of the bond and himself as the other, he saw himself as a part of both sides. He took up the threads of the two ends of the link, willing a separate self away, being only of the bond.

Obi-Wan lost all sense of time and place. A dazed lethargy began to invade every part of him. He tried to open his eyes and could not. He tried to move but his limbs were too heavy.

Struggling with all his might, Obi-Wan finally managed to open his eyes. He was in the cockpit of Mekall's ship, sitting in the pilot's chair. His image was mirrored in the viewport, but it was wrong somehow. He was able to slowly stretch up enough to see his reflection, but it was not him. It was Mekall.

The Mekall in the viewport looked at him with lifeless eyes.

"I'm so sorry," Obi-Wan said, bearing the burden of what his actions had done to Mekall. "How can I make amends?"

"Too late, Jedi," Mekall's image sneered. "I gave up everything for you. I loved you and you killed me. Your turn. What's your hell like?"

The floor jerked out from under Obi-Wan and he found himself hanging suspended from a device that spread him to the four points. Every muscle in his body tightened involuntarily.

No! he roared in his head.

He tried to take a breath, but his inhalation died in his throat when he heard an echoey splash.

This is not real. I am not back there, he thought shakily.

But the vibration was all around him. Water was dripping. Loud, heavy breathing was coming closer and closer.

His mind wanted to shut down.

Not real. It's not real. He's dead. I saw him dead.

Obi-Wan struggled against his bonds, his besieged sense of reality seeking the inviolability of raw power. He felt a rush of hot breath on his neck. A cold tongue tip ran the rim of his ear.

It's not real, he repeated to himself. It's not real and he is not real. Dharuje is dead and Mekall is alive. Mekall didn't do it. He wouldn't. Mekall did not send me to that purgatory. He saved me from it.

Obi-Wan closed his eyes and willed his mind to blankness. If somehow this was real and he did not fight, the beast would surely kill him. But there is no death, he reasserted. There is the Force.

As naturally as drawing his next breath, the entire litany crested through Obi-Wan's thoughts, bathing his mind in his most fundamental beliefs. He envisaged himself in the light. It was his heritage. The legacy of one thousand generations of Jedi. His by birth and by merit. Darkness could not touch him there. He was of the light. A fire of surety coursed through him, leaving him purified, at once empty and filled. One wrist wrenched free, then the other. With heart-stopping suddenness, his top half folded over his bottom half, then he was plunged into blackness.

Opening his eyes, Obi-Wan dared the darkness with his certainty and intense tranquility. Throwing down a gauntlet, he recited the four basic tenets of Jedi philosophy aloud to the soulless place.

A vision of the soul bond appeared before him, a door standing open, an entrance. Obi-Wan was drained, but made himself get up and walk through the door. The floor dropped away. He was falling again. He felt no fear, put up no fight. He had no need for it. He may not have known where this was leading, but he knew it was somewhere he wanted to be. If a leap of faith was needed, it was a leap he was willing to take.

Obi-Wan focused his thoughts on himself and Mekall. The calm centeredness he felt about both the bond and his own purpose were essential if he was going to succeed. I was where I was meant to be when this began, I will be at its conclusion, he thought again, knowing with absolute conviction this time what that meant. And I will be there with Mekall at my side.

Something stirred Mekall awake. He sat up haphazardly. Where? Oh, there. The room was still that flat, endless grey, but it was no longer in his head. Instead a compulsion was prodding him, drawing him away from the void. He tried to stand but could not. With an irresistible need to move, he began to crawl forward. His body seemed to be in league with the place, fighting his impulse. It felt like he was dragging himself through thick, wet plascrete, but he had to continue.

There was a door opened now at the other end of the room. A bright light shone through it. Mekall kept his eyes on that goal with no thought as to why. What he needed was on the other side of that portal and he was going to get there if it killed him.

Mekall woke feeling like an extrusion from an effluence chute. Looking around, he saw he was in bed in one of the Tavin's two passenger cabins.

How did I get here, he wondered, and why? He prodded at his memory, but came up short. Sensing the presence in bed next to him - at least it's a man, he thought, wryly - was not an immediate threat, he lay back, attempting to piece together the origin of the current situation.

Why would he and Hilty be on the Tavin? It was the smallest of his vehicles, strictly for emergency exits.

Was that Hilty? No, it didn't feel like Hilty as he extended his senses out. And whoever it was didn't snore. The man groaned. Mekall opened his eyes and turned his head.

Obi-Wan. Oh, hells, Obi-Wan. He looked terrible. Mekall would not have thought the Jedi could get any paler. Obi-Wan's lips were moving soundlessly. Mekall shook Obi-Wan's shoulder. He was like ice and did not stir.

Mekall pushed up to climb over Obi-Wan and get out of bed. His arm gave way under him and his head swam as he fell over Obi-Wan and landed on the floor with a curse. What in the galaxies was going on?

Mekall went to stand and his legs gave out beneath him. He impatiently grasped the side of the sleep pallet until he got some semblance of balance. He was incredibly weak. Making his way carefully across the cabin, he took several blankets from the storage cube and piled them onto Obi-Wan. Then he switched the thermostat to well above room temperature.

Not feeling any too healthy himself, he carefully made his way to the sink, drank what felt like his weight in water and crawled back under the covers, seeking their protective heat. As soon as he was in skin to skin contact with Obi-Wan, the other man's presence became all but overpowering. He found himself pressing closer to the semiconscious Obi-Wan.

That would not do.

Mekall reached for their bond, thinking Obi-Wan's name aloud in his mind. He felt Obi-Wan curl in on himself in body and mind. Mekall put his arms around him, ignored his body's insistent stirrings and rocked Obi-Wan until they both fell into deep, dreamless slumber.

"Mmm," Obi-Wan protested, pushing at the blankets. It woke Mekall.

"Stop that," Mekall ordered, halting Obi-Wan's hands.

"Too heavy," the Jedi complained.

Mekall removed two of the blankets as Obi-Wan opened his eyes groggily.

"What happened?" Obi-Wan asked.

"I was about to ask you," Mekall responded, hoping his memory would begin to fill in the blanks.

Obi-Wan was trying to shift his way out from under the remaining coverings. Mekall gave in and helped him sit up.

"What was that?" Mekall inquired.

"I'm not sure." Obi-Wan cleared his throat uncomfortably. Mekall got up, with significantly more success than last time, and came back with water, anticipating Obi-Wan would be as thirsty as he had been. Instead Obi-Wan emptied the cup slowly. Mekall's eyes narrowed in suspicion as he watched him, a hint of recollection nagging at the back of his mind.

Obi-Wan was quite thirsty but took his time with the water as he worked on how he could explain what had occurred. The way Mekall was looking at him was making him feel defensive, a little offended and, gods help him, hot for him.

"Last thing I remember . . ." Mekall attempted to get beyond the blur of greyness and confusion. "I was . . ."

"In the cockpit," Obi-Wan supplied. "I found you there, on the floor."

"I was so tired." Mekall continued to patch together the memory. "I wanted to get up. I knew I had to get up, but I couldn't. Where were we?"

"As near as I can tell," Obi-Wan proffered, "we were within the bond."

"Then wouldn't we have been together? I couldn't find you. I looked. You weren't there."

"I was, but -" Obi-Wan started. No, that wasn't how to go at it, he thought. "I mean I -" With no real way of cushioning it, Obi-Wan gave up and simply said, "I tried to sever the bond."

Mekall looked wounded for a flicker of instant, then exploded.

"What the hells were you thinking?" Mekall snapped. "Were you thinking? You could have died. I could've died," he added with righteous indignation. "Of all the selfish, tiv-headed, stupid, self-important, ignorant, egotistical - I can't - After what I did. After what we - You -"

With each sentence fragment, Mekall was getting more irate. The adrenaline was firing his memory and his wrath.

"You will make a perfect Jedi knight. Arrogant, self-centered, pompous fool. I wouldn't have had the slightest chance . . . How could I have trusted you? I should've known," he snorted his disgust.

"And you. You couldn't . . . even, couldn't . . . Had you - How did you thi - But you didn't think, did you? Did you!" He loomed dangerously over Obi-Wan. "You didn't think about how it would end up. How I would end up. Have you any idea what would have hap - How - Sith hells, Obi-Wan." He turned his back on him.

"I didn't . . . I thought . . . You know what I thought," Obi-Wan protested.

"Know what you thought?" Mekall turned back to confront Obi-Wan, eyes blazing. "I can't imagine what you thought. Unless it was, hmm, maybe I'll kill us both."

"You brainwashed me!" Obi-Wan shouted.

"I was there," Mekall observed caustically. He crossed the room, picked up a blanket, a pillow and his boots and walked out the door.

(continued in part 9)