Master Apprentice
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(continued from part 8)
Mekall stormed to the lounge instead of going to the other cabin. He did not want to be anywhere close to Obi-Wan. Furious with himself, with Obi-Wan, with the bond's convolutions and not a little cowed by his returning memories, he hurled his things across the room and made a beeline for the weight bag. He pounded at the workout equipment like a being possessed. His head of steam left him as quickly as it had built up. His arms hanging lax at his sides, he directed a powerful kick at the bag from which some of the stuffing was protruding. It dropped from its hooks, hitting the deck with a thomph. Mekall sat down on it.
What a performance, he thought. Which of us is the fool?
What was he really angry about? Why couldn't he tell Obi-Wan how much his rejection had hurt him?
Obi-Wan was sure Mekall would return, if only to yell more, but he did not. The padawan lay back down. He was in no condition to give chase and it was not as if Mekall could go very far. In the brief minutes before he fell asleep, Obi-Wan wondered if it was too much to hope for forgiveness.
Mekall poured himself a large drink and downed most of it. He filled the glass again, drank half and went to retrieve his boots. Moving to the cockpit, he carefully put down his drink, kicked the base of his chair as hard as he could, then sat down in it to glower into space.
Obi-Wan felt more tired and cold than ever when he woke. Could a person freeze to death in a temperate, climate-controlled atmosphere? he wondered. He wrapped himself in a blanket and went looking for Mekall.
"Are you okay?" Obi-Wan asked from the doorway when he reached the cockpit.
Mekall's eyes were sharp when they met his, but did not stay that way as he nodded slightly.
Encouraged, Obi-Wan kidded, "You know there are ordinances against drinking and flying."
"I can't do that," Mekall said.
"I'm not asking you to . . ." Obi-Wan said. "I thought you were using me. Trying to trick me. To turn me. I couldn't . . . make sense of it. I didn't want to see it, so I couldn't. By the time I had, I wasn't able to reach you . . ."
Mekall breathed in and slowly out again. "I didn't want to rescue you," he admitted, "when I saw you were a Jedi. I wanted to leave you there. Then . . . I saw your braid, and your eyes. You were beaten all to hells, your face was a disaster, but your eyes . . ." Mekall sighed and went quiet for a few moments. "Your eyes," he resumed. He lifted his drink to finish it. "I think some part of me hates you for that," he said before draining the contents of the glass.
Obi-Wan had been sure he was right about the two of them. But perhaps he had become so bound up in this that he no longer knew quite where he ended and Mekall began. He had thought Mekall was simply covering up his feelings when he had told him he had not wanted the bond, but there was no rebuttal for what Mekall had just said. Love was hate; weakness. His heart was cleaved in his chest as he made his decision to leave. It was more wrenching than he would have thought containable. He had learned his capacity for pain was considerably greater than he would have dared imagine, far greater than he would have had any interest in discovering on his own. He huddled further into his blanket as he felt the cold overtaking him from inside as well as out.
Seeing Obi-Wan draw into himself, Mekall went to him and put his arm around the trembling Jedi. He wanted to stay mad. He wanted to bare his soul. He was having no luck finding a middle ground. All he had to do was tell him. All he had to say was Obi-Wan, I understand. The words would not come. Instead, he finally lowered the emotional shields he had been keeping in place since Larral.
Obi-Wan nearly gasped in his relief as warmth flooded through him and with it an understanding of what the act construed on Mekall's part. Still somewhat angry about pretty much everything, Obi-Wan punched Mekall fairly hard in the chest. Then he reached his arms around him and nestled in where he had struck.
"Truth hurts," Mekall consoled him.
"This is preposterous," Obi-Wan countered.
"It's all right."
"I nearly killed you."
"Close doesn't count. I'm okay."
Obi-Wan wanted to laugh, but could not tell if Mekall was being serious or joking.
"I'm glad you're all right," Obi-Wan said. "I'm sorry I -" he failed at suppressing a shudder.
Mekall reached over Obi-Wan's shoulder where the blanket had slipped off and pulled it up. "Easy," he advised.
"Nothing's easy," Obi-Wan said.
"You were."
"Oh, shut up."
"I'm sorry as well," Mekall said. "I should have told you sooner. I should have known it would be . . . devastating." He looked down, toying with his cuticle. Obi-Wan used one hand to stop him. With the other, he raised Mekall's chin and kissed him. Obi-Wan felt Mekall pull back. The blanket slipped to the floor.
"I never meant to hurt you," Obi-Wan said. "I didn't understand what was happening until it was too -" Late? That was true but not what he meant to say. Too much. Too important. Too necessary to the continuation of my existence.
"I know," Mekall told him, "it's not that. It's . . . I, well," Mekall hesitated, "I didn't have to tell you. I never had to tell you. Except . . ."
"Except?" Obi-Wan asked.
"I couldn't not. Not that I couldn't. I didn't want to hide it from you.You'd have to tell the healers, of course. They would have seen it. I couldn't have you going in there not knowing and them testing you and . . . well, that's very calculated and the last thing any of this was was calculated. I had no ide -"
Obi-Wan stopped Mekall's nervous babble with a kiss, gnawing on his lush lower lip, sucking on his chin. Mekall basked in the comfort of it, an instant and too-needed antidote to the cacophony in his head.
Mekall met the passion, entwining their tongues, exploring every part of the inside of Obi-Wan's mouth, becoming lost in the heated velvet of its dark, wet depths; slowly, lavishly mapping its terrain; learning it like a poem he wanted to commit to memory.
After a time, Obi-Wan nudged him away playfully. His head was humming with a lust he could not sustain. He attempted to redirect Mekall. "How long have you been here?"
"Same as you. Why?"
"Have you looked at the helm? Do you have any idea what day it is or how far we are from Coruscant?"
Amazed that it had not occurred to him before, Mekall went to the console and started taking readings.
Obi-Wan dropped into the other command chair, closing his eyes. Mekall turned at the sound and, skimmed his hand over the front of Obi-Wan's hair. It was growing out and now brushed his forehead. Mekall decided he liked him with bangs. He cupped Obi-Wan's cheek, to move in for another taste, but Obi-Wan yawned at him.
"How long?" the weary Jedi inquired. Mekall turned back to the control panel. Obi-Wan's point was a good one. Some practicalities were needed. "We're three standard nights and two days out," he calculated.
"Good," Obi-Wan replied. "You don't mind if I just sleep here 'til we get back."
Mekall stood and bent over him. Obi-Wan still looked terribly pale beneath the flush of warmth from their exchange.
"Sleep wherever you like," Mekall said between kissing one closed eyelid and the other, "but the bed's bigger and I'll be in it. After I eat, that is."
Food, Obi-Wan thought opening his eyes, there's an idea. He was starving. He stood and a wave of vertigo swept him.
"Take it slow," Mekall cautioned, reaching out and steadying Obi-Wan at the shoulder.
Obi-Wan noticed a small scar above Mekall's mouth as if for the first time and had to taste it. Mekall kissed him back but stopped him from going further.
"I'm not on the menu at present," Mekall advised.
"Don't I have any say?" Obi-Wan complained. Mekall walked around behind him, put his hands on Obi-Wan's shoulders and gently propelled him out of the cockpit and toward the lounge.
They looted the food lockers and prepped a meal that had some elements of first, mid and nightmeal, making up for missed sustenance. Obi-Wan did not ask about the heavybag lying on the floor. After they ate, they went back to the cabin, where their exhaustion overcame even the urgency of the bonding impulse and both fell asleep in short order, tightly intertwined.
Hours later Mekall woke alone.
"You found me," the padawan said flatly as Mekall rounded the lounge entryway.
Mekall shrugged but only with his face. "Process of elimination. What's the matter?"
"Thinking."
"Dangerous habit. I get into all kinds of trouble that way," Mekall tried to make light of it.
Lost in thought, Obi-Wan did not smile. "Too much time," he said wistfully. "Not enough."
"Not enough," Mekall responded. "Definitely not enough."
Obi-Wan did not react, then heard him belatedly and smiled.
"Why so tense?" Mekall asked.
Obi-Wan did not speak.
"Don't want to go back?"
Obi-Wan huffed at the ridiculousness of the notion.
"Well?"
"No, I do."
"He said convincingly."
"Mekall -"
Mekall raised his hand in a gesture of peace.
"What would you do?" Obi-Wan asked.
"Irrelevant. It's your home. Your life. We have to go back."
"I want . . . I don't want . . . I -"
Mekall reached for Obi-Wan's hand. Obi-Wan let him, but looked down.
"I need more time," Obi-Wan stated.
"Can't have it."
Obi-Wan looked at him, taken aback.
"I'd wait a lifetime for you Obi-Wan, but it's not what you really want and it's not what you need."
"I need you."
"Among other things. You have me," Mekall assured him.
"For how long?"
"For as long as you want it to be." Mekall caressed his cheek and kissed him luxuriantly. "Want to go back to bed?" he asked, hoping his embrace had been tempting.
"No," Obi-Wan answered, obstinate as ever.
"Doesn't actually make the night any longer, you know."
"I know."
Mekall observed the younger man keenly. There were dark circles under his eyes from their ordeal. Perhaps if he could get him to unwind, sleep would follow.
"Drink?" Mekall suggested.
Obi-Wan looked at him blankly.
"I'm having a drink," Mekall revised. He went to get a bottle, set it down, started to sit, then decided he wanted a smoke as well.
"Be right back."
Mekall went to the cockpit, did a status check, registered their numbers with Coruscant control's distant early warning beacons and made a slight adjustment to their course. Finally, he took out two cheroots and returned to the lounge.
When he walked in, Obi-Wan was refilling his own glass and the bottle containted noticeably less liquor.
"Getting drunk won't put any more distance between us and Coruscant," Mekall commented.
"I'm not drunk," Obi-Wan responded sullenly.
Mekall lit a cheroot and handed it to Obi-Wan. "Did we ever establish whether you smoke?" he asked.
"Only when set afire," the Jedi replied, taking it from him anyway and placing it in his mouth. Obi-Wan drew on his cheroot and released a plume of smoke.
"You do that like an old pro."
"We are taught a great many . . . skills," Obi-Wan deadpanned. "Wanna see it come out my nose?"
Obi-Wan took a long pull and dragoned out the results. A large smile split Mekall's face.
"You have talent, young Jedi."
"That's nothing. Wanna see it come out my ass?"
Mekall laughed so hard, it made Obi-Wan jump. Then he joined in the laughter. He got very quiet in its wake.
"I don't want to have to reopen it again," Obi-Wan said quietly. "Healers, councilors, everyone . . . knowing."
"Everyone won't know," Mekall surprised himself by defending the Jedi. "Only those who need to know."
"I feel naked all the time. Exposed." After pausing, Obi-Wan said, "I'm scared."
"I'd be more concerned if you weren't," Mekall declared.
"How do I explain to my master why I didn't try to contact him?"
"If he loves you, Obi-Wan, he'll understand."
"That's what I'm afraid of. He does love me and if he understands, when he understands . . ."
"Look, it's all going to come out," Mekall reminded him. "It has to. Some sooner, some later. As it should. You have the power here. Make it happen at your pace. Don't let them tell you what's best for you. For us. I'll be there, for whatever you need. Shielding, hand holding, chai making, biting the ears of small wizened green masters."
Obi-Wan's look of concern melted into a genuine smile at the absurdity. "You'd do that for me?"
"Don't tempt me," Mekall warned wryly.
Mekall's words had the intended effect. Feeling more at ease, Obi-Wan decided to give sleeping another go. They returned to Mekall's cabin, both inclined toward joining, but neither with enough energy. They settled for falling asleep in one another's arms.
The following days and nights passed quickly. They slept, ate, meditated and exercised, working at stabilizing the bond and regaining their strength.
Mekall watched Obi-Wan closely, his discontent growing. Obi-Wan was not sleeping enough. What sleep he got did not seem to do him much good. He looked tired all the time. He ate but was losing weight. He was exercising too hard, trying to get back into form. Mekall had begun working out with him, thinking to rein him in, but Obi-Wan insisted on working long after Mekall had thrown in the towel.
Mekall suspected the rest of the energy was simply being burned up in Obi-Wan's pyre of denial. Parts of himself that related to the two of them were still open to Mekall, but as they flew closer to the Jedi Temple, Obi-Wan went from being reticent about talking about what was bothering him to not admitting it was still bothering him. To Mekall's way of thinking, he was building that Jedi shell around himself that kept emotion, and so the world, at arm's length.
Mekall decided to wait him out. They were close to Coruscant and there would be time enough, and reason enough, to deal with all of it once they were on the planet.
Not that that stopped him from worrying about Obi-Wan, worrying about returning to the Temple and worrying about being bonded and how he had ever let himself wind up in this predicament.
The last night on the Tavin, as they ate, Obi-Wan worked up the nerve to approach Mekall about one of the few subjects they had barely broached.
"What happened to you?" he asked.
"What happened?" Mekall repeated, then understood what he was asking. "What happens? You study, you work, you train your whole life for one purpose. The day comes and your name isn't called. You've seen it happen to others, but it couldn't happen to you. You know your destiny. They taught you to. But no, sorry, that was wrong. We need you over here now. Please get out of the way. There are people who are worth our time and effort waiting. Thankyouverymuch. They sent me to the Engineering Corps. I found out pretty quickly all the Jedi discipline in the world can be for naught."
"Didn't you go to your teachers, the masters -"
"What do you think, Obi-Wan? But I . . . you sit at these people's feet your whole life, looking up to them, modeling yourself on them. They're everything you want to be. Then one day they tell you you're not worthy, not good enough, not what they've been telling you you were and would be that whole time. And it's your failing, not theirs. You should have known, should have seen. You should worked harder, been better, gone farther . . ."
"You're implying it's a judgment, it's not -"
"Don't reason with me Obi-Wan. All that is easy to rationalize from your side of the robe. I was a proud thirteen year old boy. Don't you think I tried? I . . . I tried. I couldn't surmount it. I just . . . Rejection is rejection, you can call it anything you like."
With Mekall's recalled pain pouring across the link, Obi-Wan let him depart for the cockpit. Eventually Mekall decided to forego brooding and came back to the lounge where he found Obi-Wan meditating.
Mekall fixed himself a drink and sat down. After a few minutes, Obi-Wan rose from the floor and walked over to where he was sitting.
"I don't want to talk about it," Mekall preempted him.
"But -"
"I don't want to talk about it."
"Okay," Obi-Wan gave in, but did not move away. As he stood there, Mekall began to feel better. He smiled wanly and shook his head. "I'm an idiot."
"No, you're not. But you're not thirteen anymore either."
"I can't help how I feel," Mekall stated.
"Sure you can. I don't know if you'd want to. Not sure it would suit you. However, you could try to see it from another point of view," Obi-Wan suggested.
Mekall snaked his head to get a look at Obi-Wan's rear. "That is better."
"Very funny."
Mekall smiled indulgently and reached his hand out to Obi-Wan. When Obi-Wan took it, he pulled him in abruptly and twisted him so that Obi-Wan ended up sitting on his lap, facing him.
"That was sneaky," Obi-Wan informed him.
"Count on it," Mekall retorted. "I'm a man who knows how to get what he wants."
"What would that be?" Obi-Wan asked provocatively.
Mekall used his mouth to answer, but not with words. He drove on so heatedly, they ended up on the floor. Obi-Wan began to undress Mekall, to pursue his goal in earnest. At which point Mekall caught him off guard by picking him up and carting him toward the cabin.
"What . . . are . . . you . . . doing?" Obi-Wan asked in between nibbles on Mekall's upper lip.
"Don't you think we'd be more comfortable inside?" Mekall breathed into Obi-Wan's mouth.
Obi-Wan engaged both their tongues awhile before answering, "You can be so conventional. We'll have to work on that."
At this point they had arrived at their destination. Obi-Wan hopped out of Mekall's arms, melted against his bare chest and then slithered his way down Mekall's front to his abdomen. He kissed above the navel, then ran his tongue along its rim before exploring tauntingly beneath Mekall's waistband. If Mekall had so much discipline he was able to move things to a different venue, Obi-Wan was going to repay him in kind by taking his time.
Obi-Wan slid Mekall's trousers over his hips. Relishing the sight of the prize that revealed, Obi-Wan caressed Mekall across the front of his briefs, outlining the silhouette of his thickening penis and then mouthing it through the cloth. Mekall's breath caught in his throat and he jerked forward. Obi-Wan stilled his hips with his hands.
When Mekall was quieted, Obi-Wan moved behind him to run his hands over Mekall's hips and backside, down the insides of Mekall's thighs and over the sensitive flesh at the backs of his knees. Mekall shimmied involuntarily. Obi-Wan kissed a spot behind each knee, then ran his tongue up the back of Mekall's leg to his ass, finally removing his underwear and licking and kissing the fresh bounty he had presented himself.
Mekall tried to turn. Obi-Wan held him in place with a hand on his hip and a combination of pleasures produced by the manipulations of his other hand up front and his tongue behind.
As good as it felt, Mekall wanted more contact. His hands betrayed his need. Obi-Wan swatted them away and worked across Mekall's hip with his mouth, on the way to trading hands for tongue and tongue for hands. He kissed down the crease between leg and belly and nestled into sandy brown curls before running his tongue up on side of Mekall's penis and down the other. When he blew a path of cool air over that trail and everything below Mekall's waistline began to tighten up, Obi-Wan rose. He nipped at Mekall's mouth then tasted him deeply, a diversion to bring the temperature of the scene down a degree. Mekall wrapped his arms around Obi-Wan, letting him set the pace, for the time being.
Satisfied Mekall was no longer at the brink, Obi-Wan went to his knees. He took Mekall's cock in his mouth and brought him skillfully back to the edge, again not quite letting him go over. When Obi-Wan backed off again, Mekall's habitual impatience kicked in. He took Obi-Wan by his arms and raised him roughly to his feet, joining in the short burst of laughter that escaped Obi-Wan before they were face to face and began devouring each other's mouths.
Mekall walked Obi-Wan backward toward the sleep pallet, his eager cock pressing against Obi-Wan's belly. Obi-Wan landed on the bed on his back with Mekall right on top of him. Mekall nailed him with a kiss that was enough to put his lights out, grinding their lengths together as he reached over to the bedside table for lube. He turned Obi-Wan, raising his hips and kissing at the tight ring of muscle before entering him with his tongue.
Obi-Wan grunted as Mekall followed tongue with fingers, preparing him. In the throes of his passion, Mekall buried himself in Obi-Wan up to the hilt, skewering him, branding him, claiming him once again as his and this as theirs. Obi-Wan's hips bucked as he moaned their shared pleasure. Mekall began to piston into him, using his hand to encircle Obi-Wan's cock and pump it at the same time, completing the circuit and bringing them both to climax.
Afterward Obi-Wan fell asleep and Mekall lay beside him. He had thought he would not be able to sleep, but found that contradicted when he woke up some time later. He got out of bed as smoothly as he could, wanting to leave Obi-Wan's rest undisturbed. The sheets and mattress hardly moved, but Obi-Wan sensed the instant he was gone and opened his eyes to see Mekall slipping back into his underwear. Mekall found his trousers a little further away. He put them on before noticing Obi-Wan watching him.
"Go back to sleep," Mekall directed.
"Likely," Obi-Wan purred. "with you standing there looking like that."
Mekall crossed to the bed. He sat down and Obi-Wan rose to his side. Mekall wrapped Obi-Wan's braid around his fist and leaned in to plunder his mouth before moving on to lavish attention on the pulse in his throat, the hollow of his neck.
As the young Jedi emitted a growl of need, Mekall moved on to tease his nipples taut with quick teeth and short cool breaths. He peeled away the sheet and made a slow trail down the center of Obi-Wan's chest and stomach with methodical applications of his tongue until it met up with his hands, which had begun ministrations below. Obi-Wan was hard already; he felt himself quickly approaching the same state.
Obi-Wan painted himself over Mekall's back, relieving him of his trousers again, running his fingers in tickling trails up Mekall's spine on his way to sitting up a bit more to give Mekall better access.
As he tasted the fluid that leaked from the head of Obi-Wan's penis, Mekall found his thoughts instantly so blurry with desire that he could barely connect two of them. He was momentarily caught in a strange dichotomy. Longing for more, for completion; worrying over whether either of them could stop if for some reason they wanted to or had to.
At the slight hesitation, Obi-Wan took Mekall's head between his hands. Want flowing off him in waves, his need all but physically imprinting on Mekall through the fire of his touch, he pressed him into the heated musk of his swollen organ. Obi-Wan simultaneously used a judicious application of Force to enter Mekall from behind and repeatedly find his prostate. Mekall's anxiety over his lack of control was consumed by the onslaught of stimulation. No longer caring if he could stop, he took Obi-Wan's length into his mouth, reveling in it, flesh itself an ecstasy he had never dreamed possible.
They climaxed together, but their orgasms did not abate. They extended, drawing the two men onto a plane that narrowed their combined consciousness to the minutest pore and opened it to the cosmos, threatening sanity and renewing it at one and the same time. They were shattered and restored, obliterated and recreated, woven together while each gained new strength in his individuality.
Through the night they exchanged pleasure and knowledge, embracing and embraced, driven and yearning, needing and receiving, irrevocably cementing their union. Two made one; each made whole; bonded souls.
It took Mekall a while to extract himself from the bed. He was caught up in contemplating the creamy palette of Obi-Wan's skin. There were some marks on Obi-Wan which caused a shiver of pleasure as Mekall recalled their creation. He himself had a fascinating variety of aches in highly unusual places.
When he was able, Mekall got up, dressed and went to the cockpit. Once there, the security and contentment resulting from the new depth of their bond was eclipsed by the knowledge of the shrinking distance between the ship and the planet. He contacted Coruscant Air Control to request a landing slot.
Mekall had been at the helm for hours, monitoring transmissions from their too rapidly approaching destination, when Obi-Wan came in.
"What time is it? " Obi-Wan asked. He brushed Mekall's cheek with his lips as he slipped between the two chairs, joining him in staring out the viewscreen. "Are you hungry?"
"Almost fourth and no."
"Me either. I'll make something to eat."
Obi-Wan was going to cook whether Mekall was hungry or not. He did not have much of an appetite, but they had to eat and he would rather keep busy than dwell on the conflicting feelings he was experiencing at seeing Coruscant. He kept the com open, hoping to make conversation. Mekall said little beyond placing a confirmation call to the air traffic controller.
Once the food was prepared, they sat opposite one another, chewing mechanically, few words becoming fewer as each imagined the kilometers passing. After, while Mekall went back to the cockpit to oversee their entry into Coruscant's atmosphere, Obi-Wan grabbed a quick meditation. When he returned to the cockpit, Mekall was glowering into space.
Obi-Wan sat down next to him, his own precarious calm being undone by the tension coming from his bondmate. It was not until after they had entered Coruscant's atmosphere that Mekall noticed Obi-Wan held the arms of his chair in a vise grip and his mouth had thinned to a straight line. He touched Obi-Wan's arm, to remind him they were in this together.
"The condemned men," Obi-Wan joked feebly, uncoiling his hands. "Look at the two of us."
"I'd rather not," Mekall replied darkly. He swiveled his chair to face Obi-Wan. "Look, no matter what happens . . ."
Obi-Wan leaned in and kissed him, unsure whether it was to stop him saying anything more or to take his words and make them true. Never had anything so real felt so unreal to him. He was about to see Qui-Gon and to tell him. To tell him.
Obi-Wan backed away, needing to look at Mekall. Mekall reached out to run his thumb along Obi-Wan's lower lip.
"This could be a little tricky," Obi-Wan observed.
"Not a problem, " Mekall smiled winningly. "We'll simply explain it to the Council. If we use small words, I'm sure they'll understand."
The lights of the Coruscant shipping lanes drew closer and closer until they entered into the streams of traffic. A few minutes later, they had landed.
All business once they were on the ground, Mekall secured the Tavin. Obi-Wan offloaded their bags and brought their documents to the docking official. In no time, they were cleared and in an air taxi headed for the Jedi Temple. Obi-Wan spent the short trip working on his calm and checking his shields. The last thing he wanted was for Qui-Gon to find out about the bond before he saw him. The Temple entrance proved no impediment. Obi-Wan knew the security officer and talked her into letting them enter without alerting his master or the Council. It was bending the rules, but he and Vaar had been initiates together before Vaar had gone into the Security Corps rather than becoming a padawan.
Mekall scanned the halls as they walked as if expecting demons to pop out of the walls, but what he found was more akin to apparitions. Ephemeral memories: the grand sweep of robed knights on their way to and from important meetings and missions, a group of initiates herded along by a young docent, imparting knowledge as she walked, padawans stealing a game of tag between classes. The significance of the Temple, its traditions, the awed respect of his childhood, all grated on him. His natural rebelliousness chafed under the assessment he imagined the building itself was making of him.
Obi-Wan carefully masked his presence as they made their way to his and Qui-Gon's quarters. Arriving at the door, he hesitated, the single step over the threshold a vault across a potentially bottomless chasm.
As the door opened, Qui-Gon looked up from his work. Shocked, he rose, crossing the room to Obi-Wan in three long strides. With Obi-Wan standing before him, weeks' worth of pent-up anxiety washed through him and into the Force, eradicated by his wonder and joy at the presence of his cherished padawan.
Qui-Gon placed one of his hands on each of Obi-Wan's arms, as if to convince himself the form was solid this time, then enclosed the boy in a tight hug. Obi-Wan did his best not to recoil but did not succeed entirely. In his happiness, Qui-Gon did not notice.
"Obi-Wan," he began when they had separated, "how? How did you get here? I had no sense of your return. Where have you been?" Qui-Gon could not resist embracing him again. "Are you all right?"
Having given them a moment alone, Mekall stepped into the room. When he did, Qui-Gon let go his grip and took a step back.
Obi-Wan turned. "Master," he said, "this is Mekall Nower. He brought me to Coruscant."
"Mekall, you have my heartfelt thanks, and that of the Jedi, for bringing Obi-Wan home to us," Qui-Gon welcomed him.
Their eyes met. As they took the measure of one another, Qui-Gon had a stirring of recognition. This man was Force sensitive and he had seen him somewhere before, but it was more than that. Mekall's Force signature was all over Obi-Wan.
"Master Jinn," Mekall returned Qui-Gon's greeting formally.
Jinn had aged, but most gracefully. If anything, he was more handsome than Mekall remembered, and, much as he would have preferred not to, Mekall did remember.
"Which room's yours, Obi-Wan?" Mekall asked. He wanted to extend the same courtesy Obi-Wan had shown Hilty and him. Obi-Wan pointed to the one on the right. Mekall picked up their bags and went into Obi-Wan's room.
Qui-Gon watched Obi-Wan watch Mekall walk away. There was, indeed, something between them. Not that Qui-Gon could pick up much from Obi-Wan. He was heavily shielded. Qui-Gon supposed that must have been why he had not known Obi-Wan was on the premises. He was disturbed by the air of disquiet emanating from Obi-Wan despite his intense shielding. What sort of hold did this man have over his padawan? Centering and drawing on that calm center, Qui-Gon set about finding out.
"Obi-Wan?" he began blandly.
Obi-Wan turned back to Qui-Gon as Mekall disappeared into his room.
"Master . . . "
"You didn't answer my question. Are you all right?"
"Yes, I . . . Yes, Master, I am."
Obi-Wan looked unsteady.
"Why don't you sit down?" Qui-Gon directed him to the sofa. "Do you want to get cleaned up? Or would you like to put your things away? Did Mekall kit you out? I was glad to see you had a bag, but then, you wouldn't have been going around unclothed for a month. At least, one would hope not," he smiled.
Obi-Wan flinched visibly.
Qui-Gon's countenance changed dramatically at the response to his jest. His sense of outrage was kindled by the implicit retroactive threat to Obi-Wan, but he maintained a tranquil air for his padawan's sake. "May I get you anything? You seem . . . You're shielding quite heavily."
"Yes, Master. I'm sorry, Master."
"Obi-Wan, please." Why is he being so proper? Qui-Gon wondered.
"Qui-Gon," Obi-Wan said, hesitantly, "there's a good reason for my shields and I don't wish to rest or clean up. I have . . . I have to . . ."
Qui-Gon's was increasingly concerned. Obi-Wan was usually so articulate. He would proceed slowly.
"Where were you, Obi-Wan? What became of you? I thought I had found you after you were abducted. The Sector's police captured an associate of the guerillas who gave us their location. There was no trace of you."
"They put a Force inhibitor on me. A collar. I was there, when you . . . were. I heard the explosion. I heard you call out to me. I was hit, in the head. I lost consciousness."
Qui-Gon's face became stormy, but he composed himself and encouraged Obi-Wan to continue telling his story.
"The next thing I remember, I was on Larral," Obi-Wan went on.
"Larral?"
"I know," Obi-Wan said with a brief grin. "There is a period that is lost to me. I was injured. "
"I hadn't thought -" Qui-Gon interjected. "It was only a stun bolt."
"It wasn't the stunner. The terrorists took out their . . . frustrations on me."
Qui-Gon's eyes darkened as he subdued rising ire.
"Do you need to see the healers?" The more closely Qui-Gon looked, the less well Obi-Wan appeared to him.
"Eventually, Master. Not just now. I . . . need . . ." Obi-Wan shifted toward his bedroom.
"Obi-Wan, is this man some sort of a threat to you?"
"Some sort," Obi-Wan muttered nearly to himself.
"Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon was growing agitated.
"No, he is no threat, Qui-Gon. Mekall is . . . he saved my life. He was a Jedi, an initiate, here on Coruscant."
That was it, Qui-Gon realized. Mekall had grown up at the Temple.
Obi-Wan had actually begun to sweat.
"Are you certain you're not ill?" Qui-Gon persisted.
"No, I'm not," Obi-Wan said a little impatiently. "I was . . . that is, I need . . . I -"
Qui-Gon observed Obi-Wan keenly, seeking to discern from his surface what he was not able to find within. Other than anxiety there was not much to go on. "We don't have to talk now if you don't wish to," he offered.
"Yes, we do," Obi-Wan stated emphatically.
Qui-Gon thought Obi-Wan would continue. When he did not, Qui-Gon asked, "Did Mekall find you on Larral or take you to Larral?"
"He lives, lived, on Larral. He . . . he found me there. I was transported by an exotics trader who headquartered on Larral. I . . . that is he . . ."
Obi-Wan stopped to suppress the by now familiar shakes taking root within him.
"What is it, Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon beseeched. "Are you in pain?"
"No, I'm not in pain. Master . . . I - Qui-Gon, I . . . I . . . I'm . . . . . . . . ." Obi-Wan looked up and engaged Qui-Gon's eyes. "I'm soul bonded."
To his credit, Qui-Gon looked dumbstruck for less than a fraction of a fraction of a second. One could see where Obi-Wan had learned his equanimity.
"Soul bonded?" Qui-Gon repeated, to clarify.
"Yes. I was badly hurt," Obi-Wan explained, "and Mekall - He tried to heal me. It succeeded, but as I recovered we found we had formed a sou - a bond."
"Are you amenable to this?" Qui-Gon asked.
"I have meditated on it a long time. It would seem to be the will of the Force," Obi-Wan confirmed.
"Then I am happy for you, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said, standing and going to his side. He put his hand to Obi-Wan's forearm. "Are you happy?"
"I think it's a little early for happy. I've been . . . When Mekall found me . . . It's been . . . arduous."
"Then you should rest, as should your . . . Mekall. Are you hungry? Would you like something to eat first?"
"No, I'm not hungry. We ate, as much as either of us could choke down. We were a little . . . tense."
"I can only begin to imagine," Qui-Gon smiled. "Are you truly all right?" he asked.
Obi-Wan started to get to his feet. Qui-Gon assisted him, holding onto Obi-Wan's arm for longer than was strictly required.
Obi-Wan thought about it too hard before saying, "I'm . . . well enough."
Although Qui-Gon knew the reply was a delaying tactic, as he did not sense any imminent physical danger, he accepted Obi-Wan's answer. They could talk more after Obi-Wan had rested.
Obi-Wan walked toward his room.
"Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon called after him.
Obi-Wan turned.
"I'm very glad you're home."
"Yes, I am as well, Qui-Gon."
To Obi-Wan's astonishment, Mekall was on the bed,sound asleep. Obi-Wan put a blanket over him and lay down next to him. When he awoke, Mekall was sitting up, watching him sleep.
"How'd it go?" Mekall asked.
"Uncomfortably," Obi-Wan replied, "but he was . . . masterly. Did you sleep long?"
"A while," Mekall said. "What now?"
Obi-Wan looked at him tiredly. "That's a little . . . broad. Don't you think we could start with something easier, say unpacking?"
"Sure," Mekall smiled, but he did not get up.
Obi-Wan did, clearing some drawers and closet space for Mekall's things as he put his own away.
Obi-Wan checked that his bag was empty and stowed it. If Mekall did not intend to unpack, he would do it for him.
"What did you tell him?" Mekall asked, as Obi-Wan opened his larger case.
"That I was injured and we bonded while you were healing me. That you were an initiate here," Obi-Wan replied.
"Well, that's basic enough."
Stopping what he was doing, Obi-Wan faced Mekall. "What would you have me say? Hello, Master. My apologies but the rest of our lives together will be called off on account of my being forcibly anally penetrated by a thousand armed tripedal blowfish with a spiked cock who tried to erase my brain through my rectum."
Surprised by his vehemence, Mekall reached for Obi-Wan.
Obi-Wan shook him off. "I'm going to shower."
Mekall knew the routine. Obi-Wan had been attempting to wash this off since he had gotten his memory back. He let him go. It was best. Afterward he would meditate, he almost always did. He certainly would here.
"Do you need anything?" Mekall heard Qui-Gon's voice ask.
Obi-Wan's reply was inaudible.
Mekall had awakened startled to find he had gone to sleep. Then again, neither of them had actually been up to finalizing the bond. It had proved to have a schedule of its own. He was still tired, but he was more thirsty, so he went to get something to drink.
Qui-Gon sat facing the door.
"Is he all right?" Qui-Gon asked as Mekall walked through.
"Depends what you mean by all right, I suppose," Mekall said. He got water and came back to sit on the sofa. Might as well get this over with, he thought.
"What do you mean by all right?" Qui-Gon inquired.
"He's healed, physically," Mekall gave the abridged version.
"He's well?"
"What did he say?"
"He said he was well enough."
"He's well then."
"Do you need anything?" Qui-Gon offered.
"No, thank you, Master Jinn," Mekall declined.
"Mekall, the formality is not needed."
"Okay, Qui-Gon. Why don't we forgo the chit-chat then? You've had time to reference my files. What do you really want to know?"
"How did you end up all the way out on Larral?" Qui-Gon asked, caught between admiring Mekall's directness and disliking his brashness.
"Slipped, fell, then ran like the hells," Mekall said.
"Temple records lost track of you."
"More like I learned to evade them," Mekall corrected. "Once I left this place I did everything I could to become lost. I didn't want the Jedi to know where I was."
"You were assigned to the Engineering Corps. Were you . . . why did you leave?" Qui-Gon inquired.
Mekall smiled chillingly. "Other than the rejection, the alienation and the grinding loneliness?"
"You were neither rejected nor alone," Qui-Gon assessed.
"No, it only felt that way."
Qui-Gon would have liked to address the wave of pain coming from the younger man - so much anger - but he sensed that type of incursion at this juncture would only provoke him. Instead, he changed the subject. "Do you do much Force healing?"
"Hadn't done any in years," Mekall volunteered. "Not even on myself. I didn't know what else to do with him."
"And what do you do when you're not Force healing abducted padawans?" Qui-Gon's annoyance briefly got the better of him.
"A bit of everything," Mekall evaded.
Qui-Gon took his time before his next question, strategizing exactly how he might get past the younger man's defensive combativeness.
"How did you happen to come across Obi-Wan?" "My . . . partner worked, for LKG, the power cartel on Larral. He was repairing a compressor at the home of an acquaintance of ours. Obi-Wan was being . . . held there."
"The exotics trader," Qui-Gon verified, knowing how well versed in diplomatic euphemism Obi-Wan could be. He had said he was transported. Mekall said held. Bought and sold, more like, Qui-Gon concluded. The Xasx insurrectionists had beaten him and sold him to a slave trader. A tiny flame of suppressed fury ignited in the master's stomach. "You purchased him, didn't you?"
"Actually, I won him," Mekall boasted.
"You -"
"Won him, gambling," Mekall elaborated, enjoying the taunting nature of his statement. Qui-Gon's bland expression was such an obvious mask of his disapproval, Mekall thought, if you knew how to look.
"I see," Qui-Gon said tightly.
That phrase, Mekall mused. How much his master the padawan is.
The bastard is smiling, Qui-Gon thought, as Mekall's lips did take on a slightly upward cast at making the Jedi master's temper flare again.
"Did he . . . That is, was he . . ."
"It's the result that matters, don't you think?" Mekall declared.
"A means to an end?" Qui-Gon said dismissively.
"He's here, isn't he?" Mekall ground out, his satisfaction gone and his hackles rising.
"For that I am profoundly grateful. However the circumstances beg some explanation."
Obi-Wan came up the hall from the 'fresher, snugly wrapped in a bathing robe, as overly pink as Mekall had been expecting. Mekall wondered how many layers of skin he could possibly have left. Obi-Wan's eyes widened slightly at the sight of the two men in his life sitting more or less together.
"Feeling better?" Qui-Gon asked.
"Yes," Obi-Wan lied as he sat on the sofa at a decorous distance from Mekall.
"Your master was just saying he'd like some further explanations."
Qui-Gon looked guiltily at Obi-Wan.
"You seem . . . that is, I want to help, Obi-Wan, but in order to do so, I need a bit more . . . information."
Obi-Wan swallowed hard. "I understand," he said past the lump in his throat. Every time he thought he had a handle on his emotions of late, the smallest changes undid him. "What do you want to know?"
Qui-Gon was somewhat taken aback. He had expected Obi-Wan to prove as recalcitrant as his . . . mate, he thought with distaste. But, no, he was still Obi-Wan. That would never change. Looking at his padawan, slightly flushed from the heat of the 'fresher, hair damp, eyes too bright, Qui-Gon's irritation with Mekall transmuted back into care and concern for his padawan. There would be time enough to uncover what Obi-Wan was not telling him. Which is what he said.
"There will be time enough for that. You're going to need your rest. Tomorrow is likely to be a hectic day."
"Yes, Master," Obi-Wan concurred.
"Does anyone else know you're here?" Qui-Gon asked.
"Not unless you've told them."
"I have not. Do you . . . Would you like me to make those calls?"
"Thank you."
"Is there anything that you need, in the short term?" Qui-Gon asked, adding, "Either of you?"
"No," Obi-Wan answered for them both. "I have . . . I don't, I don't really know. I thought being back here would feel . . . different."
Mekall felt Obi-Wan tensing and moved toward him, reaching for his hand. Obi-Wan let him take it.
Qui-Gon looked from one to the other, sighed internally and stood. "Perhaps it would be best if you had some time alone together. I'll make the calls from my room. Obi-Wan, I'd like you to give some consideration to lessening your shielding. Once it's known you're back . . . You can neither let the Force in nor let yourself use it as you should locked behind the walls you're maintaining now."
Obi-Wan wanted to reply, but Qui-Gon did not let him.
"It is not a criticism. Events will occur in their own time. I understand that you would not be shielded to this extent if you didn't feel there was good reason. I'm asking you to consider a suggestion. It is not a criticism," he reiterated, to refute the accusatory look on Mekall's face. Obi-Wan's eyes remained on their linked hands.
"Obi-Wan?"
Years of conditioning led him to look up.
"Let me know if I can help."
Obi-Wan nodded and Qui-Gon went to his room.
Obi-Wan looked at Mekall who appeared ready to launch into a diatribe.
"Please don't say anything," Obi-Wan nearly begged. "I really can't take it."
Mekall used his other hand to sandwich Obi-Wan's between his own. He rubbed Obi-Wan's hand. Testing his luck, he moved in for one chaste kiss and withdrew.
"I'm beginning to understand why you drink," Obi-Wan commented. Mekall smiled. "I'll get you some if you want, but you're probably better off medita -"
Obi-Wan took his hand from between Mekall's hands and put it to Mekall's lips to stop the remainder of the word. Mekall kissed his fingers gently. Obi-Wan left them there. Mekall covered Obi-Wan's hand and moved it up until Obi-Wan's palm was over his lips and kissed that. Then he licked it. Then he lowered his mouth to Obi-Wan's wrist and began to suck at the pulse. Obi-Wan bent to put Mekall's lips to other use. Shortly, they retired to his bedroom, where Mekall spent the rest of the night doing his utmost to keep Obi-Wan from being able to think at all, much less about the day to come.
(continued in part 10)