Knights of Darkness

by Laura McEwan (padawan_laura@yahoo.com)

Series - "Knights" This is the third installment, following "Twilight to Knight" and "Knights of Morning." Best read in sequence.
Archive - M_A Archive, and my LiveJournal MEMORIES section http://www.livejournal.com/users/lauramcewan/ ; all others just ask.
Category - Qui/Obi, POV, h/c, angst
Rating - NC-17
Warnings - none
Spoilers - none
Disclaimer - These boys are mine only in my dreams, my bookshelf, and in my DVD player. They belong completely to King George of Lucas, in a galaxy far, far away. Money is no object, for none exists in my wallet.
Summary - On separate missions, one knight is injured and the other rushes to his side.
Feedback - I worship it. Like sausages, feedback is my very sacrament. (chocolate Jedi to whoever understands that!) ::wink:: Email or on my LiveJournal post of this story.
Notes - As ever, you pick which Jedi is speaking.
Thank you - Ghostwriter for teaching me more about grammar than I ever thought I would know! Thank you so much for your awesome betas. Clara_Swift for believing in me.

(//...// for mindspeak)

It's been three months since we've touched. A few shared words with the occasional brief glimpse on a comm unit and love letters sent in packet burst is all the contact we've been able to manage. While those moments and words are precious and treasured beyond measure, they are nowhere near enough. I need to touch you. My fingers ache to remember the texture of your skin.

I need to see my reflection in your eyes.

In my dreams you are with me, silky and hard and hot in my palm, but then I wake and the false reality fades into the mist of morning like the stars at sunrise, and the solidity in my hand is only myself.

Every morning my heart breaks a tiny bit more, for once again I awaken to an empty pillow beside me and a hot throbbing against my belly. Bitter tears fall as I stroke myself, wishing for the intimate feel of you twisting under my hands, the soft heat of you writhing under my body, the sweetness of your lips pressing mine.

Wishing to hear the sultry desire in your voice, breathing my name, that hot whisper that sends me over the edge, even when I am alone and lonely in the cold, brittle light of dawn.

Without you, I am not whole. You complete that hopeful part of me that reaches for a future full of promise and passion, but you are not with me, and I am not whole.

And now I fear for your fragility as my transport races past streaking stars, never moving fast enough, to reach your side. My heart sank to the very pit of my stomach when the awful truth reached me via Council transmission. Your mission was thwarted by unexpected enemies and you were caught in the crossfire. Your injuries...I was told to go to you immediately, and I fear the worst.

The crew on board this ship have been solicitous, offering me tea and bits of food, but I am afraid I have not been the best company. The captain has been kind, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder, reassuring me that the ship is at best speed. I am grateful, but time is slipping past faster than we can fight against its current, holding me back from reaching your side.

Force, please, a little more time. Please...

With just under an hour before we arrive I stare out the tiny cabin window, looking at nothing but seeing everything.

The color of your eyes, how they darken in passion when we make love. Your gentle smile that speaks of your yearning when we are together. Your hands wrapped around your lightsaber handle as your body moves in a kata that showcases your power, your beauty, your strength.

Your hand wrapped around my sex.

The enticing curve of your mouth as it reaches for mine.

I stand and begin pacing the small space in my quarters, back and forth, back and forth, as if my motions will aid the ship's speed with my added energy.

//Hold on for me, my love. I am coming. I am coming!//

An hour seems an eternity, but finally we are landing, the captain having called ahead to ask for emergency clearance so that we can swoop in ahead of other ships waiting in line. I hesitate at the boarding ramp long enough to clasp his hand gratefully and he smiles sadly and says, "Go."

And I do. Running madly through the docking bay to the inner chambers beyond where I am met by a healer who leads me to your bed.

The medbay is painted in dark blues and whites and there are ten beds in a row. Yours is closest to the bacta tank, and the healer tells me you've been submerged for three days and have just been released as my ship was cutting ahead to land.

Three days.

//Oh, gods, what did the bastards do to you?//

I walk slowly up to your bed, grateful for being spared the sickening vision of you floating in that red haze, and fearful of what I will see that the bacta hasn't yet healed. You are unconscious, and you are pale - oh, so pale, whiter than the white sheet that covers your nakedness, red gel still clinging to your weakened body while an apprentice healer is preparing to wipe you down.

No. That's my duty. I promised to care for you.

Silently, I request the cloth, my hand trembling but my eyes sure, and with a glance at her superior she places the warm, damp cloth in my palm, squeezing my fingers as she does so. When she vacates the seat I take it, my eyes roaming over your body, tears prickling my eyes as I seek out the injuries and scars, bruises and pain. The tube in your arm feeding you, the narrow oxygen hoses in your nose helping you breathe all serve to push me further towards despair, away from hope.

You are so pale. The dark, purplish bruises stand out in a stark, horrifying contrast.

Do you know I am here? //I am here, I am here. Please know I am here...//

Our fledgling bond is quiet. Too quiet. My call and my fears echo in the resounding silence where you should be, held in limbo with no way out and seemingly no way in.

Dimly, I hear the healer behind my shoulder cataloguing the damages, but her monotonous recitation sounds like a listing of goods on a cargo ship to my unwilling ears. The only phrase that cuts sharply in my heart is "touch and go." She doesn't understand that this is YOU. Not just another random patient with hurts to heal like any other, but you, the most precious and perfect being in the galaxy. She doesn't realize your importance to the Jedi Order, to the republic we protect. She doesn't realize your dedication to your life's path.

Your dedication to me.

Dipping the soft cloth in the bowl of water I begin to wipe away the gel, its blood red color belying its healing properties. I raise your arm gently to reach beneath it, counting the fading bruises as I carefully wipe them clean.

Your hand is unresponsive in mine, fingers relaxed and lifeless, so unlike my memory of the strong and capable ones that so tenderly explored and mapped me, that twisted in my hair in the throes of ecstatic orgasm, that knew just how to stroke me to make me come hard and hot.

I need you to touch me once more.

//Wake up. Please.//

The apprentice helps me roll you to your side, oh so carefully, so that I can continue to remove the sticky residue from your back and bottom. Your vulnerability brings me to hot tears, burning down my cheeks, and I press my forehead to your hip, vainly trying to hide my weeping.

Your scent has changed; it's no longer the musky warmth that defines you to my senses. Perhaps it's just an effect of the gel.

Perhaps it's not.

//Oh, gods. Am I losing you?//

You would be angry and ashamed to be seen like this, even by me, to be put in this position of helplessness, and for a brief flash I am intensely selfish, glad that you are deep in senseless nothing, oblivious, for I think the miserable pain in your eyes would be more than I could bear after seeing the glorious body I've held and cherished so battered and broken as an adored doll caught in a windstorm, lost to the child who loved it so.

//Don't wake up. Heal first.//

I'm caught between two conflicting desires; needing to know that you aren't lost forever to me, and hoping that you won't have to know the state of your physical being. My hands relentlessly circle the cloth along your skin, around each vertebra of your spine, the small of your back, the crease of your buttocks, the muscles of your thighs.

You don't even react when I touch the tender backs of your knees, by far your most ticklish spot, and it hits me then, a painful twist deep in my gut, that you are far, far away from me. It no longer matters that I know where your hidden and softer spots are if you can't share in the rediscovering of them with me, the one who loves you more than life itself, the one who waited so long to be able to love you, only to have you nearly ripped from me in this senseless, horrific, violent act.

I wasn't there to watch your back. //Oh, gods! I wasn't there!//

//I. Wasn't. There!//

The horrifying guilt grows from my center, cold fingers creeping into each intimate space of my being, consuming me from the inside out with its cruel hindsight that events would have been different had I been there with you, had we fought side by side, back to back, as we had for so many years.

Damn the Council and their choice to separate us. Damn them all to Sith's hell.

Oh, my love, you're broken, broken because of their choice, by their oh-so-superior wisdom that set us on different paths, knowing our passion yet pressing forward with our sworn dedication to the Order.

They forced duty over love, and the cost of that decision may be too great for even the Council to absorb. Damn the Code. We weren't ready to be apart.

We'll never be ready to be apart.

My attention returns to you, lying still and and white on the narrow cot, lights on the panel over your head blinking in time with every beat of your heart, every breath you draw.

The lights are suddenly blinking faster and a clanging alarm sounds. I find myself stumbling to the far wall, shoved away by healers racing to your side, and you're lost to my sight for all the blue tunics in my way.

No.

//No. . .//

The claxons silence and the blinkings slow to a more sedate pace. Hands suddenly grasp me and I find myself lying down, staring into the harsh overhead lights as the healer I met with earlier leans over me, her hand cool on my sweaty face.

Somewhere in the swirling fog of my mind, I hear her tell me that whatever turmoil and anger I experienced a few minutes ago affected you negatively, and that you shielded yourself by pushing it away. My anguish reached you through the bond, and it hurt you. //I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry...//

It hurt my most precious and perfect person.

I must keep control over my emotions.

Be a Jedi. Serene, calm, rational.

I am flat on my back beside you because you fed it all back to me in defense.

Serene. Calm. Rational.

Rational... OH! //I reached you through the bond!// My heart leaps at the hopeful realization. //You heard me!//

The healers tell me I must sleep, for you and for myself. I reach for you, needing to touch, needing to believe that you will remain near. They push my bed alongside yours and I grasp your hand before I nod and allow them to sedate me, sending me to a peaceful, dark oblivion.

Oh...did you just move your hand...?

I feel infinitely heavy, sluggish and slow, and my vision is blurred, hazy and dark. A soft touch on my face gives me focus, an anchor to hold while I shake the bleary cobwebs of my mind away.

Arms under my back help me sit up and a glass of water is pressed to my lips. I have been asleep for over a day, but now the healers need me conscious and alert, for your condition has changed.

When did I let go of your hand?

They've taken you to surgery, for bleeding has returned inside your broken body, and they need me to feed you through the bond, to nourish you on my love and support, to wheedle you into staying on this side of the Force.

//Don't leave me. We have so much more to do, you and I.//

They tell me you moved just before the bleeding became known. I did feel you move!

//Please stay with me.// My end of the bond is still so painfully, achingly silent.

The surgeon seats me at the top of your bed and I place my hands on your temples, lowering my forehead until it wearily rests on yours, and I send you every image I can think of to entice you to stay with me.

Terenet, where the oceans were so warm that we stripped and swam in the purple rays of sunset, buoyed by the waves and heavy salt.

Alderaan, sweetened wine at a royal wedding that set us both a bit tipsy, much to the amusement of Senator Organa.

The mountains of Clera, the snow so brilliantly white that the sun's reflection glowed in an aura around you.

A knighting ceremony in the Council chambers where one precious bond was severed and another, infinitely more precious, began.

The color of your eyes, how they darkened in passion when we made love under a spreading tree until an insistent dawn called us away on the last morning we touched.

Your gentle smile that speaks of your yearning for me when we are together.

Your body as it arches, pressing against mine, your voice murmuring and gasping as I slide into you.

Your hands wrapped around your lightsaber handle as your body moves in a lover's kata that you dance just for me.

//Stay with me. Dance for me again.//

//Dance with me again.//

It's morning, and the faint rays of the dawning sun are peeking through the windows across from the bed where you sleep ever on. Pink and orange lay across the blanket and creep steadily towards your face, adding color where there is none, falsely painting you healthy and glowing.

Surgery was successful but you needed a few hours in the bacta tank while I nervously paced, your weightless suspension eerie and cold, matching my own inner turmoil, but I must keep it in check lest I harm you again.

The healers sent me outside once, insisting I needed some fresh air. Having forgotten my cloak I stood in a drenching rain and turned my face to the sky. The water soaked into my hair and ran down my cheeks, mingling with my tears.

Standing in a rainstorm, no one can see you cry.

The rain helped to rinse away some of my gloom and left me feeling somewhat refreshed. Once more, I take up the cloth to wash your wasting body, grateful and relieved that you are still here for me to tend to, and the healers believe that you should be waking up soon, but I still don't hear you.

I still don't feel you.

Wearily, my head rests on your arm as I clasp your hand, now clean and dry. I stroke the top gently with my thumb, a circling massage soothing in its repetition, and I focus on breathing, on finding my center, and on sinking into a meditation that I hope will reach you in all its serene beauty as did my agitation before.

Breathe...

And you do. A gasp, crashingly loud in the steady quiet of the medbay, the first sound from you I've heard, and it's music, blessed music to my elated ears, and the bond flickers, a tiny candle flame nearly buried in the darkness of a dungeon, but a light nonetheless.

You are my light.

I reach carefully along the bond, calling to you softly, my mental voice just above a whisper, hopeful that you will come home to me.

A flare, and your sense brightens, and I can feel your hand twitch in mine.

//Oh, my love, my life, my light! Reach for me!//

I swim to the surface from my meditation, anxious to see your face.

Your eyes are still closed but your skin is pinking, and your arms and legs, weakened and thin from illness, make small, painful movements against the bed.

//Come to me!//

I press gentle kisses to your eyes, willing them to open. I stroke your hair and call your name and I am rewarded by a fluttering of eyelashes...

...and in this relieved and elated moment all that I hoped for, longed for, dared to dream of in my dark despair comes true, and in your eyes, those glorious, haunting, loving eyes, I see the reflection I yearned to see just one more time.

Me. Only me.

"Stay," you whisper hoarsely, fingers weakly clutching mine.

"Always, my love. Always."

And you smile.

~end~