Master Apprentice Archive The Red Band - Part 4: Broken Vows Quick search:

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Archive: M_A. Others please ask. Also archived at http://www.jediphiles.com/index69.htm

Category: Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Rating: NC-17

Spoilers: none

Series: The Red Band. Best read in order.

Summary: Qui-Gon's continuing coldness sends Obi-Wan into the arms of an old friend, with devastating consequences.

Disclaimer: George Lucas is da man. He owns everything. We just play.

Warnings: Lots of m/m sex including Q/O and O/other. This is NOT a happy one.

Special Thanks to: 1) My Padawan, who is my inspiration,  and 2) the Wonder Beta, Fox, without whom you'd have to put up with a lot of crappy, confusing prose. Fox, you are my hero, and a cunning linguist besides!

AGE 21:

"I don't see why he had to be the one to go."

Qui-Gon suppressed a sigh and turned to regard Sedjik, the newly appointed Ambassador from Fharrha. He was young, with a slender build and a shock of red hair framing a childlike, freckled face. The heavy crimson and gold robes of state did little to flatter his coloring. Qui-Gon marveled again that the rulers of the various factions had agreed upon the young man as their liaison. His appointment had been the only progress Qui-Gon had made on the diplomatic front in the months since he'd arrived on Fharrha.

Earlier that day, military intelligence had warned them of another rumored attack. The Commander in Chief had asked that Qui-Gon protect Sedjik here, in the fortress overlooking the Capitol where he'd negotiated with Sedjik's father several years before. At last Qui-Gon had been able to talk with the Ambassador and explain the Jedi's strategy. Sedjik was clearly appalled that Obi-Wan had been sent alone to try to infiltrate the Jhuan.

"Obi-Wan was the logical choice," Qui-Gon said. "I am too well known, after the treaty talks six years ago."

"It's too dangerous."

Qui-Gon turned away from the young man, who was unconsciously biting his nails. Qui-Gon could hear his restless footsteps as he paced the room. Sedjik's frantic worry merely caused Qui-Gon to sink deeper into calm -- a calm that failed to touch his heart. "Obi-Wan is a Jedi. He has faced danger hundreds of times."

"He's only an apprentice, he's too young."

Qui-Gon turned again and fixed him with a stare. "If you'll forgive me, Ambassador, some might say the same of you."

Sedjik stopped pacing and looked up to meet his gaze, going completely still. In that moment Qui-Gon saw why Sedjik had been chosen Ambassador. The frailty and innocence disappeared. The disintegration of his world's government, the tragic death of his father during a meeting with the Jhuan, his own appointment in his father's place ... it was all there in his eyes, drawn in lines of sorrow and determination. Yes, this young man would bear watching. He had been the only one trusted to negotiate, not only by the legitimate rulers, but also by the various leaders of the warring factions. Even the worst of them seemed to sense Sedjik's genuine love for his world and its varied peoples. He was by all accounts a credit to his father, to the man's life's work. If peace were to have any chance at all, Qui-Gon sensed that Sedjik would be the one to carry it in his deceptively slender hands.

"_I_ am not out there," Sedjik nearly shouted, gesturing toward the window, "under cover, somewhere deep in a nest of cutthroats and mercenaries. He's been gone for three full lunas. He might be dead for all we know."

"If he were dead I would know it," Qui-Gon said dispassionately.

"Don't you care about him?" Sedjik demanded, yelling now, and clearly wishing he could break Qui-Gon's serenity with a well-placed fist.

_More than you know,- Qui-Gon thought. Aloud, he merely grunted and turned again to look outside, though at this late hour there was nothing to see. The war-ravaged city below was without power. Only the crescent of a large, yellow moon gave any light. Snow had begun to fall, flickering like fireflies in the glow from the candles on the windowsill. A wood fire tried without success to heat the chill room. It was midwinter on Fharrha. Was it snowing where his Obi-Wan was? Qui-Gon did not know. He had deliberately shielded himself from his Padawan after that disastrous kiss aboard the cruiser, and except for their strategy meetings with military intelligence, they had not exchanged a single word since.

"Well, _I_ --"

"Hush!" Qui-Gon cut off Sedjik's words with an urgent gesture. He drew his lightsaber but did not power it on. Motioning for Sedjik to take cover, he cross the room to the door. He reached out with the Force, recognizing what had made that small sound on the other side.

Suddenly all the tension flowed from him and he took a deep breath. A smile flickered over his features. With a steady hand he clipped his 'saber to his belt and the opened the door.

A stealthy, dark-robed figure slipped inside and closed the door softly behind him. He reached out as if to grasp Qui-Gon in an embrace. The tall Jedi gripped him by the arms to stop him, and the smaller figure stiffened. Qui-Gon's hand released him, and he bowed. At last he turned to look at Sedjik and threw back his hood. His hair had been sheared close in the Jhuan fashion, but his eyes and his smile were still the same. "Sedjik," the newcomer said. "It's been a long time."

"Obi-Wan!" Sedjik cried. "You're safe. Thank the stars." He crossed the room quickly and took a grinning Obi-Wan into his arms for a brief hug. The young Jedi hissed in pain, and Sedjik withdrew quickly. "You're hurt!"

The familiarity between the two young men sparked a flame of memory, and suddenly Qui-Gon understood Sedjik's fretfulness. This had been the one, the boy who'd spent the day with Obi-Wan all those years ago while Qui-Gon had been sequestered behind a locked door negotiating the treaty with Sedjik's father -- the boy who'd taken his Padawan's innocence at the age of fifteen or thereabouts. Qui-Gon had thought little of it at the time, other than to make sure Obi-Wan was not hurt. A Jedi's life was hard; by that age most had already fought and killed, been wounded, and faced danger and responsibility enough for ten men. He had been glad when his Padawan had discovered the pleasures of sex. The Force alone knew how few comforts there were in a Jedi's life. But that had been ... before. Before Obi-Wan's disturbing revelation. Before they had become lovers. Before all the pain and upheaval that followed.

Before the red band.

Qui-Gon looked again at Sedjik, whose eyes drank in his Padawan's face as if he might memorize it, whose quicksilver hands had already undone the buttons of Obi-Wan's shirt and were probing gently for wounds. Qui-Gon swallowed a lump of jealousy. _You must release him,- he thought to himself. And then: _Force help me let him go._

Obi-Wan shook his head and drew back, stilling Sedjik's hands with his own. "It's not bad, just some bruising and cracked ribs ... but there's no time for that. I have only a few minutes before my absence will create suspicion. They're planning an action for tomorrow, on the anniversary of the Jhuan Martyrs. It's against the Healing Institute this time."

"That's ... to attack a hospital!" Sedjik was nearly speechless with indignation.

Obi-Wan dropped Sedjik's hands, withdrew a step, staggered slightly, then sat down abruptly on a chair. Sedjik started to kneel, but Qui-Gon got there first and gestured for the other man to bring a glass of water.

Obi-Wan batted his Master's hand away from his throat. "My pulse is fine, Master. Just listen to me. They're getting ready to set the bombs now. They still don't trust me; there was nothing I could do except ..." he stopped to gulp the water Sedjik had brought and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Thanks. I've rigged the bombs. I think it will be okay, but I've got to get back. I'm close to discovering who's funding the whole operation --"

"No!"

Obi-Wan looked up curiously at Sedjik, who went on: "I won't allow you to go back in there. It's too dangerous."

Obi-Wan turned to Qui-Gon and raised one brow in silent query. Qui-Gon glared at Sedjik. "If he can discover who's providing the funds --"

"No!" Sedjik's mouth was set in a grim line. "We asked for plans, equipment, troop strength, names of leaders. He can give us that. He's done enough."

Qui-Gon rose to his feet, and Sedjik rose with him. The two men stared at each other, one placid, the other with ire raising the hairs on the back of his neck. "One wonders if you have an interest in stopping the investigation prematurely," Qui-Gon said softly.

Sedjik's eyes widened in shock and indignation, then narrowed to slits. "My interest lies in preserving life. That includes the life of your Padawan. Something you seem not to value at all."

"I --"

Qui-Gon stopped abruptly and turned to the window. Fire bloomed in the distance, billowing out from the forested hills north of the city. A moment later came the distant sound of a tremendous explosion. The windows rattled slightly as the shockwave rocked the building around them.

Obi-Wan struggled to his feet. "No. Too soon ...  blast it! They'll know I've gone. I've got to get back ..."

Sedjik stopped him on his way to the door with a hand on his arm. "They moved before you expected?"

"Yes, but --"

"They might have deliberately given you false information. You may already be compromised. It's too dangerous to go back now."

Obi-Wan looked to Qui-Gon, who merely shrugged. "You've competed the mission they gave you, Padawan. And I take it you prevented tomorrow's attack as well?"

Obi-Wan bowed his head. "Yes, Master. That was their staging camp. I rigged the bombs to detonate if they were moved. I couldn't risk their getting into the city."

"Well done, Padawan." Qui-Gon reached to place a hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder, then seemed to think better of it and let the hand drop. "But I think Sedjik is right. If they moved before you expected, your cover might have been seen through. They might have expected you to come here with the information, even followed you here."

"Oh, someone did follow me." At their startled looks Obi-Wan smiled grimly. "I took care of him. That's how I got the cracked ribs."

Qui-Gon looked thoughtful. "Do you think you took out any of the leaders with this explosion?"

"A few. They use a classic cell structure, but this coordinated attack brought together most of the players. The true leaders are no doubt far away, establishing alibis." Obi-Wan struggled to keep the bitterness from his voice.

"Even so, I think the Jhuan representative will be more interested in negotiations come morning." Qui-Gon said, and reached for his cloak. "I'm to bed. Well done, Padawan. You've earned a rest." He walked to the door and opened it. Without turning he said, "I'm sure Sedjik can suggest a place for you to sleep." Then he was gone.

Sedjik watched as the door closed behind Qui-Gon. "Full of praise and warmth, your Master," he remarked.

"Yes," Obi-Wan said, looking at the door with a stricken expression. Gone nearly a quarter standard year, in terrible danger, and that was all he got? An aborted hug and a _Well done, Padawan-?

His breath hitched, and he gritted his teeth, not sure which hurt worse -- the pain in his body or the ache in his heart.

"Here," Sedjik said. "Sit. You're hurt. I'll go get some tape for your ribs from the stores."

"No, I ..." Obi-Wan looked around. "Is there water for a shower? I'd really like to clean up if I could ..." Obi-Wan swayed, looking dead on his feet, and Sedjik took his arm.

"Come to my room. I have a portable bath with a heater. It's not luxurious, but it's better than most of my people have right now."

"That sounds ... good," he said tiredly. With an effort he pushed away his pain and resolved to live in the moment.

Obi-Wan let himself be led down the frigid corridors to a staircase. They descended several flights, until Obi-Wan was sure they must be well below ground. At last they entered another room, smaller, but with a gas fire burning bright in a corner fixture. The flames illuminated rich, brightly colored fabrics on walls and floors, a gilded ceiling, a big bed with rumpled crimson covers, a pair of comfortable-looking chairs in red and gold. Sedjik went through another door, and Obi-Wan heard the sound of water running. He pulled off his boots, then removed his clothes, folding the items neatly and stacking them on a chair.

He was remembering Sedjik from their one brief encounter six years before. They'd both been boys then, in the height of adolescence. Sedjik had spent the day showing him the capital city, and later they'd sparred. He'd been surprised by the other boy's skill, and scandalized by his kiss. The rest had been like a dream -- one Obi-Wan had relived again and again over the years since. He'd never known his body could feel such pleasure from something as simple as another's touch. It was the first in a long line of revelations for Obi-Wan.

Sedjik was touching him now, guiding him to the bath. Obi-Wan realized he'd been standing there naked, eyes closed and swaying.

He held onto Sedjik's arm as he eased himself into the warm water. "Mmm," he murmured. "This is good. Thank you."

"My pleasure. After all you've done for me and my people, this is small thanks. I'll go and fetch that tape now. You've got the beginnings of a nasty bruise."

Obi-Wan looked down, startled to see the mottled purple patch that covered his chest along the left side and down beneath his arm. The Jhuan they'd sent to follow him had known how to use his feet.

He sank down, resting his head on the edge of the tub and willing himself into a light trance. He reached for the Force and tried to pour healing into his abused body, but with little success. All he could do was shunt the pain aside for now. Healing was not his strength. Qui-Gon, with his greater grasp of the living Force, was much better at it.

At the thought of his Master, Obi-Wan's eyes stung. Would it have been too much to ask that his Master give him a smile, a few warm words for all he'd done these past few months? Too much to tell him he'd been missed? Too much to at least make sure he was healed and rested?

Apparently even the basic courtesies a Master extended to the most unworthy of Padawans were lost to him now. By offering Qui-Gon his love, Obi-Wan had destroyed everything.

The door opened and Sedjik walked in. Obi-Wan saw that he had removed his heavy robes and now wore only a sleep gown of some satiny cloth in sky blue. Obi-Wan reflected dazedly that it brought out the color of his eyes.

Sedjik nodded to Obi-Wan, set down an armful of towels, and turned to leave.

Obi-Wan reached for the soap and grunted. Sedjik turned to him again. "Do you need some help?"

"I'm having trouble lifting my arm. I hate to ask it, but could you ... " Obi-Wan gestured to his hair, feeling himself flush.

Sedjik fetched a bottle and settled on his knees next to the tub. He poured a handful of water over Obi-Wan's head then worked a fruit-scented shampoo into the short locks.

The feel of strong fingers working his scalp sent tingles of pleasure all the way to Obi-Wan's toes, and he felt himself growing erect. He desperately clamped down on the reaction. "I can't believe I'm letting an Ambassador bathe me," he said, embarrassed. "What an opinion you must have of the Jedi now."

"I have only the deepest respect for you," Sedjik said softly. "Although I must admit, I am not too fond of your Master right now. Is he always so cold to you?"

Obi-Wan stirred uncomfortably. "We ... we had a misunderstanding. We haven't had time to deal with it yet."

Sedjik scooped water and poured it over Obi-Wan's head to rinse him, then helped him to stand. "Even so, he acted as if he didn't care whether you lived or died."

The words stabbed renewed pain through his chest. He gasped, nearly folding over, and Sedjik grabbed him. "Come on, friend," he said. "Let's get you fixed up."

Obi-Wan let himself be dried and dressed in a thick, crimson robe. Sedjik led him to a chair by the fire, settled him on the edge, and worked the robe from his shoulders. He knelt, and with practiced hands he bound the wide tape around Obi-Wan's chest and over his stiff shoulder. With each circuit his arms went around Obi-Wan, pressing close. They both turned their heads to avoid bumping noses, but the slide of the silky fabric and the musky heat radiating from Sedjik's body stirred Obi-Wan's arousal again. He chided himself. Yes, it had been months, but he was promised to Qui-Gon. Nothing else should matter, not the Master's coldness, not the warmth of Sedjik's arms around him, not the memory of Sedjik's hot, skillful mouth on his cock ...

Obi-Wan groaned involuntarily, and Sedjik froze. "Too tight?"

Obi-Wan shook his head slightly. "No. You're doing a great job. Where'd you learn that?"

Sedjik grinned, finishing the wrapping and smoothing the edges carefully. "You know me. I like to spar. I've had plenty of practice getting ribs taped."

Obi-Wan smiled. "As I recall you were very good. Still keeping at it, then?"

"Oh, yes. It's come in handy a few times lately too, though ..." He stopped, his face suddenly anguished.

Obi-Wan realized what he must be thinking of. "You couldn't have saved him, Sedjik. If you'd been there, you'd have been killed, too."

Sedjik stood, clenching his fists and staring at the fire. "I know," he said in a small, choked voice.

Obi-Wan stood, put an hand on Sedjik's shoulder from behind. Sedjik turned into him, and then they were holding each other in a loose embrace, both mindful of Obi-Wan's injury. Sedjik put his head on Obi-Wan's good shoulder and took a deep, shuddering breath. "I haven't even had time to grieve," he whispered.

Obi-Wan's arms tightened about him. "You can let it out now."

"No. No, I can't."

"You're safe with me, Sedjik. I'm here." Obi-Wan stroked his hands in circles on Sedjik's back, running the soft fabric beneath his callused palms, and suddenly the other man shuddered and let out a keening wail. The pain in that sound brought tears to Obi-Wan's eyes, and he just held on as Sedjik's body shook in a series of brief, soul-wrenching sobs. Then, as quickly as it had started, it was over, and Sedjik was pulling out of his arms, wiping his eyes.

"I'm sorry," he sniffled. He turned away, embarrassment stiffening his spine.

Obi-Wan's hand trailed down his arm as he turned. He caught Sedjik's hand and squeezed. "Let's go to bed," he said softly.

Sedjik turned to face him. "Do you ... do you want to?"

Obi-Wan grinned. "To sleep, Sedjik."

"Oh." Sedjik smiled then, almost shyly. "It's just ... I never forgot, you know. I still think about you sometimes, the way you kissed. I can still remember how you smelled, how you tasted ..." He stepped closer, putting one hand up to cup Obi-Wan's cheek. "You were the best I ever had," he said, his voice deepening.

Obi-Wan swallowed convulsively. "I haven't forgotten either," he said. "But ..."

His words faded away as Sedjik stepped in and pressed their mouths together. His tongue was hot and urgent against Obi-Wan's lips, and without thought Obi-Wan let him in. The kiss deepened, both of them hungry for the contact. Sedjik's hands skimmed the robe from his shoulders. It fell to the floor, and Obi-Wan moaned, his penis growing with each beat of his heart. Oh, but it was good to be touched again after so long. Sedjik's hands pulled them closer. He grasped Obi-Wan's buttocks and ground his satin-clothed erection against Obi-Wan's groin, making them both gasp. One of Sedjik's hands slid down further, into Obi-Wan's moist cleft, and a slender finger settled at his opening. Obi-Wan resisted an almost overwhelming urge to thrust back onto that digit. He pulled his head back, breaking contact. Sedjik's mouth descended on his throat, sucking strongly, and Obi-Wan moaned.

"Oh ... I can't," Obi-Wan choked out.

"Want you," Sedjik murmured against his skin. He captured Obi-Wan's mouth again; one hand took Obi-Wan's penis in a strong grip while the other penetrated him, just the tip of one finger, but it was enough to make Obi-Wan buck and cry out, instinctively seeking more.

Sedjik's hand pumped him roughly, and Obi-Wan felt himself already nearing climax. With a kind of desperate agony he pulled away, batting at Sedjik's hand, nearly sobbing at the loss of contact and gasping, "I can't ... I can't," as he backed toward the door.

Sedjik stared at him, his hair in disarray, his mouth swollen from their kisses. An impressive erection distorted the front of blue shift, leaving a flower of moisture at the tip. "What ... ?" he asked huskily.

"I'm promised to someone. I'm sorry. I can't. I'm so sorry." Obi-Wan knew he was babbling. He stooped to pick up the robe and shrugged it on, then gathered his clothes and boots. "Thanks for everything. I ... I belong with my Master."

He turned and fled from the pain in Sedjik's eyes.

Qui-Gon knelt before the fire in his room, trying without success to find his calm center and meditate. All he could think of was Obi-Wan, lying in Sedjik's arms, on top of him, underneath him, pleasuring him in a dozen different ways and crying out in passion. The needy sounds Obi-Wan made during lovemaking, the spicy scent of him, the feel of his skin, were as vivid to Qui-Gon now as they had been long months ago, when they'd shared that one, bright moment of loving. It should never have been. Qui-Gon should have never allowed it. And now ... now, he was paying the price for his lack of control.

A soft knock sounded from the hall. Qui-Gon reached out and groaned inwardly as he felt the familiar aura. It was too soon. He was too unsettled.

He rose and went to open the door. Obi-Wan stepped inside, and Qui-Gon closed the door before turning to face his apprentice. He looked him over, taking in the kiss-swollen lips, the love-bite on his neck, the bare feet, the naked form underneath the crimson robe. He felt a lump of lead form in his gut and he swallowed.

"I thought you would sleep with Sedjik," he said dully.

"Is that what you wanted me to do?" Obi-Wan challenged.

Qui-Gon turned away. "What I want doesn't matter."

"Damn you, Qui-Gon Jinn!"

Qui-Gon spun very slowly, letting his face fall into the Forbidding Jedi Master mask.

But Obi-Wan would not be cowed. "I'm tired of the mixed signals. I'm tired of being wanted one minute and cast aside the next. I love you. I want you. _Only_ you. I want to touch you and talk with you and be in your mind and in your _life_! I don't care if we don't have sex again until I'm Knighted, but I can't go on pretending we mean nothing to each other. If nothing else, I need my Master back. Not two hours ago I killed a man with my bare hands -- and brought about the deaths of a few score more. I'm injured, I'm hurting, I'm scared and lonely and guilty and I need you to remind me once again why I'm doing all this. I need you to help me find my center, to purge this anger and despair. _Force,- Qui-Gon, we made promises. I thought they meant something."

Qui-Gon had stood impassively as Obi-Wan spoke. At last he said, "I never asked for your promises."

Obi-Wan froze. The ache from his ribs had spread, and the pain took his breath away. He gasped for air, clutching for support, and reached for Qui-Gon. His Master took a step back, away from him. Obi-Wan flailed, found the back of a chair, eased himself to the floor and tucked his head between his knees. A wave of dizziness and nausea washed over him.

Qui-Gon did not touch him, did not come near him. At last Obi-Wan got himself under control and looked up. "I meant our vows, Qui-Gon. The Master-Padawan vows."

Qui-Gon looked at him, finally, and raised a brow. "Ah." His mind whirled with confused emotions, chief among them an unreasonable anger.

Obi-Wan covered his mouth and coughed, the pain sending white streaks through his vision for a moment. When he looked down, the palm of his hand was full of blood. He turned to Qui-Gon, feeling as if he were under water. Time slowed, and a roaring sound rushed through his head. He held out the hand, palm up, and very slowly toppled to the floor as the world went black.

Qui-Gon sat stoically in the waiting room of the capital's Health Institute Trauma Wing, too plagued with guilt to meditate. He tried to project an aura of Jedi serenity to those around him, but his heart was so full of anguish he feared it was a wasted effort.

Despite the Master's formidable healing abilities, Obi-Wan had nearly lost his battle to live during the long trek through snow and rubble to the beleaguered hospital. Qui-Gon had carried him through the darkened streets, not daring to run lest he slip and injure Obi-Wan further.

At the Institute the wounded had lain side by side in rows of hundreds, waiting for the few available medics to deal with them. Equipment and medicines were in short supply, and many died before even being seen. Qui-Gon had quite unethically drawn upon his power as a Republic representative to demand treatment immediately, something he could not bring himself to regret. The medic took one look at Obi-Wan's sweaty pallor and the blood running from his mouth and ordered him into surgery to repair a punctured lung. The young man was deep in shock, the medic told him, and despite all their efforts Qui-Gon must be prepared for the worst.

If he had only touched his Padawan, however briefly. If he had only once, for just an instant, lowered his shields enough to sense the pain his apprentice was trying to hide, he might have known. What kind of a Master was he? To protect his own heart, he had put his Padawan in mortal danger. That was what Obi-Wan had been trying to tell him, in those last moments before he passed out. It was one thing to resolve to wait for further intimacy. It was another to cut off even the small intimacy they'd always shared as Master and Padawan.

He was a Jedi Master. Surely he could give the boy the sort of love and affection he deserved as his Padawan without succumbing to temptation. He vowed to do so, as soon as his Obi-Wan was well. _Force let him live,- he thought. _I will do anything, just let him live._

A weary medic approached him, and he shot to his feet. "How is he?"

"He'll make it. He's in the bacta now. In a few hours, he should be pretty much back to normal. Just give him fluids to rehydrate him, and in a few days he can resume his normal activities." The medic smiled. "But no unarmed combat with potential assassins for, oh, at least a week."

Qui-Gon grinned despite himself. "Thank you. I cannot tell you what this means to me."

"Believe me, you made your feelings quite clear to the whole ward when you brought him in. Now, if you'll come with me, I'll show you the way to the bacta ward."

Obi-Wan came awake slowly, blinking at the light pouring through the window. The drugs they had given him for pain dulled the usual sparkle in his eyes, but the grin that spread over his features flooded Qui-Gon's heart with relief.

Qui-Gon reached out and grasped his hand. "Welcome back, Obi-Wan."

"Master?" The touch of those hands felt so good, and his Master was open to him now as he had not been in so long. Obi-Wan could feel a swirl of emotions coming to him through the bond: relief, guilt, love, trepidation, resentment, regret, confusion, anger, fear, lust.

For his part, Qui-Gon was already having trouble with his resolve. He wanted to be a good Master to Obi-Wan, but the mere sight of the boy, lying there with his every feature outlined by the thin gown, his green eyes shining with love and devotion, was enough to undo him. He fought to keep the bond open, when all he wanted to do was shut it down before Obi-Wan could see his thoughts. Force, the boy was barely out of death's clutches and all he wanted to do was ravish him. What was wrong with him? He struggled against an urge to flee and forced himself to stay seated.

"Master?" Obi-Wan whispered again, and Qui-Gon knew he had seen everything.

Qui-Gon bowed his head. "I am an unworthy Master, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He slid to his knees, insinuating himself into Qui-Gon's line of vision. "Never. I have faced you with a moral dilemma, and for that I am sorry. I never meant ..."

"Oh, Padawan ..." Qui-Gon sighed. He slid his hand to cup Obi-Wan's cheek and lifted his face to look at him. "You have been honest with me, as I have not been with you."

Obi-Wan moved closer, as if by instinct, rising up to straddle Qui-Gon, embracing him and tucking his head under the Master's chin. He felt Qui-Gon's urge to push him away, and held on tighter. "Just let me stay like this a few minutes, Master.  I promise I won't ask anything else. Just a few minutes ..."

Tears swelled in Qui-Gon's eyes at the desperation in Obi-Wan's voice. "As long as you need, Padawan," he said in a choked voice. "Whatever you need."

"I need you," Obi-Wan murmured against his throat, so soft he barely heard it.

Qui-Gon's pulse quickened at the touch of those lips. He tried to clamp down on the desire, but it flared stubbornly, infusing him with heat and hardening his shaft. He sat very still, hoping Obi-Wan would not notice. But in a moment he felt Obi-Wan's pulse quicken as well. Obi-Wan shifted, his breath coming hot and fast through parted lips that pressed wetly against the sensitive skin of his throat. Qui-Gon clenched his fists against Obi-Wan's back. The young man moaned softly and shifted again, the unmistakable heat of a full erection branding Qui-Gon's belly through the layers of fabric. Qui-Gon warred against contradictory impulses. He wasn't sure what he might do if he allowed himself to move: shove the boy to the floor and run away, or shove him face down on the bed and simply take him.

Obi-Wan brushed a kiss against his throat, then froze as he felt Qui-Gon's shields return like a slap in the face. Very slowly he pulled away from Qui-Gon, disentangling himself from the embrace to stand with his head bowed, looking as dignified as he could in the revealing gown. His voice trembled, and his hands shook. "I'm sorry, Master. I don't know what's wrong with me. All it takes is the merest touch from you and I ... _Force,- I have never craved anything or anyone so much in my life! I'm sorry! I'm sorry ..."

The last was said with a heart-wrenching anguish, and without conscious thought Qui-Gon found himself on his feet, reaching for his apprentice. Obi-Wan turned away, took a stumbling step toward the door, and Qui-Gon caught him, turned him into a tight embrace. Then somehow they were kissing again, and oh, yes, it was like water falling on parched earth. Their tongues met and danced with urgent purpose. He drank his Padawan's kisses like life-giving rain, pouring out his very soul in return. He couldn't think, could barely breathe. All he felt was an overwhelming need to be joined, _now_, to the young man so wantonly pressed against him.

Qui-Gon reached out with the Force and ripped open every drawer and cabinet in the room. He found a tube of lubricant and called it to his hand, then opened it with his teeth as his other hand urged Obi-Wan to the bed. The young man complied eagerly, letting himself be pressed face down on the sheets, his bare feet planted on the floor, legs spread. Obi-Wan was gasping softly: "Hurry ... hurry ..." And then loudly: "Oh, yes! Yes!" as Qui-Gon's thumbs stretched him open and entered him roughly, stroking the cold lubricant deep inside. Obi-Wan didn't seem to mind, instead pushing back for more. Qui-Gon withdrew his thumbs and hastily freed his aching cock, coating himself with the gel, barely registering its coldness. He was hot, too hot, burning up with lust. He needed to slake his thirst in his Padawan's body. He grasped the rounded hips and lifted them, plunging himself deep on the first thrust. Obi-Wan moaned loudly, "More! Ah ... yes!" as Qui-Gon thrust deep and hard and fast, Obi-Wan's hips rising to meet him with each stroke. The metal bed clanked against the wall in time to their rhythm.

Obi-Wan's erection bobbed up and down in the air with each deep thrust. He could feel Qui-Gon's huge cock filling him, raking across his prostate, and he knew he wouldn't last long even without any direct stimulation. He reached out with his mind, wanting more contact, and found Qui-Gon's shields faltering. He pressed, hard, and suddenly he was there together with his Master, in a communion so bright he forgot all about his body. This ... this was bliss. This was love. This was everything he'd ever wanted and more. After a moment he became vaguely aware of his body again, aware of the hot flood of Qui-Gon's seed inside him, aware that he was shouting, his cock pulsing with the hardest climax of his life.

Then his vision went white.

The door banged open sharply. Qui-Gon looked up, his countenance still slack from his completion, and saw the medic who had talked with him earlier.

The man's eyes grew wide as he took in the scene, the drawers and cabinets thrown open, the bed against the wall, the tube of lubricant on the floor, the Jedi Master with his pants around his knees, looming over the body of his unconscious apprentice. "Serinda's black bones! Are you out of your mind?"

Qui-Gon hastily withdrew his spent erection from Obi-Wan's body, shielding the young man's nakedness from sight as he covered him. He quickly righted his clothing.

The medic approached, shoving him aside. He looked at Obi-Wan, and his lips compressed with fury. He turned to Qui-Gon. "Get out!" he shouted, and pointed at the door.

Qui-Gon stared at him for a moment, trying without success to find his voice and his dignity. The medic was trying to get Obi-Wan back onto the bed. Qui-Gon reached to help. "He's fine," he told the medic reassuringly.

The medic's eyes narrowed, and he shoved Qui-Gon's hands away. "I'll determine that." He got Obi-Wan situated on the bed, then ran a scanning device over his body, lingering at throat and chest.  "He seems stable." He turned to regard Qui-Gon, who had drawn himself up to his full height. The medic didn't appear to be intimidated. "I don't know what kind of sick monster you  are, but I am calling security." He reached for a commlink.

"You don't need to call security," Qui-Gon suggested softly.

"I don't need to call security," the man echoed, and put the commlink away.

"This is a private matter."

"This is a private matter."

"Obi-Wan is quite unharmed."

"He is unharmed."

"You have much work to do. You'll have to be going now."

"I must going now." The medic turned and walked out the door, shutting it behind him.

Qui-Gon turned to Obi-Wan and saw that the young man's eyes were open, watching him with a combination of horror and amusement.

"I'd suggest you get dressed so we can get out of here before he starts thinking too hard about what he's just seen," Qui-Gon said emotionlessly.

"Yes, Master." Obi-Wan slid out of bed and went to the closet, suppressing a fit of giggles. He wished he could have seen his Master's face when the medic discovered them. He glimpsed himself in the mirror, saw his braid dangling along his shoulder. He grinned. "You restored it. I hadn't even noticed."

"While you were unconscious. I felt ..." _I felt if you had it, you might stay with me,- he thought.

"But where is the red band?" Obi-Wan frowned.

"I ... we can discuss that later." Qui-Gon's shields were locked tight again.

Obi-Wan shrugged. He dropped the gown and stepped into his pants.

Qui-Gon had to turn away. Despite everything, the sight of his Padawan's body was arousing him once again. Something was wrong with him, desperately wrong, and he was just beginning to suspect the cause. If he was right, they must get back to Coruscant with all haste. The Fharrha situation had stabilized in the wake of the explosion that had killed most of the Jhuan terrorists. But even if it had not, this was one time Qui-Gon would have to abandon a mission to take care of personal concerns.

On the way back to Coruscant, Qui-Gon did not speak to Obi-Wan, did not touch him, and his shields remained firmly in place. Obi-Wan did little more than eat and sleep, too tired to question his Master. Time enough to sort it out when they got home.

But one thing he did do. As soon as he was alone, he rummaged through his pack and found another red band, the symbol of his love and commitment to Qui-Gon. He tied it to the end of his braid with a satisfied sigh. Things were once again as they should be, at least with this one small part of him. The rest would take care of itself later.

Obi-Wan sat once again in conference with Master Healer Sag-dho, explaining what had happened on Fharrha. Sag-dho had been alarmed about the punctured lung, but a physical exam had turned up no lingering damage. After a while they had moved on to the other matter, that of Obi-Wan's troubled relationship with his Master.

"You opened yourselves to each other completely during sex?"

"We dropped all our shields, yes. It was ... I never imagined anything so good. It was like being inside a sun."

"Your bond was strengthened?"

"I ... was it?" He reached out only to find a wall. Qui-Gon had erected his strongest shields against him -- again. He struggled not to let himself be hurt by that.

Sag-dho rose and wrapped long, suction-tipped fingers around his head. "May I?" he asked softly. Obi-Wan nodded, and the healer began to probe very gently into his mind, almost a whisper. He felt a tickle along the bond. Then Sag-dho withdrew and returned to his seat.

"You have the beginnings of a soulbond."

Obi-Wan's delighted grin was quickly suppressed. "Is that why we couldn't keep our hands off each other?"

"Most likely, yes."

"Does my master know?"

Sag-dho tilted his head. "He suspected." He hesitated, then went on, more softly, "He has requested that it be dissolved."

Obi-Wan jumped to his feet again. "What? I don't believe it! Why?"

Sag-dho shook his head. "I cannot say. I believe I need to speak with him first, before any action is taken."

Obi-Wan felt his heart clench. Qui-Gon did not want him, did not want a bond with him. Had not even told him of it, just asked the healer to dissolve it.

He felt himself shaking all over, gulping back tears and bile. Stumbling, he made his way to the 'fresher, slipping to his knees just in time to lose everything he'd eaten that morning.

Qui-Gon was kneeling in the meditation gardens once again when his commlink chirped. He assured Sag-dho he would be there with all haste, then rose and dusted himself off before heading to the lift.

When he entered the room, Obi-Wan stood and bowed respectfully, but said nothing. Qui-Gon was glad to see that Obi-Wan intended to abide by his decision, despite the obvious cost. He glanced briefly at his Padawan's eyes and then looked away before the pain there could shatter him. The young man's face was like a whitewashed mask.

Sag-dho gestured him to a seat, and Obi-Wan sat as well.

Obi-Wan's heart pounded. His master's presence seemed to radiate against him like the heat from a fire. He wanted to seek comfort in an embrace, but he could not. He was left to stew in his own anxieties and gradually dimming hopes, inches from his lover and yet utterly alone.

"I have spoken with your apprentice at length about the events of the past few cycles." When Qui-Gon said nothing, Sag-dho continued. "It is clear to me that, although he has been hurt by your repeated rejections and erratic behavior, he has suffered no significant damage from what transpired. Your conduct was certainly ill-advised and thoughtless -- and completely unbecoming a Jedi, I might add -- but I do not find sufficient grounds to censure you for abuse, or to separate you."

Qui-Gon nodded, with a tight smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"However," the healer added, and looked at Obi-Wan. "I believe the dissolution of your bond would be harmful to both of you."

Obi-Wan started to say something but was interrupted by Qui-Gon's flat, emphatic statement, uttered through clenched teeth: "I want it gone."

Obi-Wan swallowed heavily. A wave of shame and unworthiness washed over him, bringing tears to his eyes, and he had to turn slightly away, desperately trying to bring himself under control. His breath hitched audibly. He swiped at the tears leaking from his eyes and swore under his breath. So, he had been right. Qui-Gon didn't want him.

Qui-Gon heard and saw the signs of distress and steeled his heart against them. This was for the best.

"Master Qui-Gon." Sag-dho's tone had risen for the first time into something very much like anger. "I cannot simply weaken the bond back to its previous strength. I will have to sever it completely. You will no longer have a training bond with your apprentice."

It was regrettable -- more than that -- it was devastating, but Qui-Gon knew he could not live with such a close connection to Obi-Wan and still keep his resolve. He had meditated constantly on this problem since they'd left Fharrha, and this seemed like the only solution. He swallowed past a lump in his throat. "He is a man now. He has little need of the bond."

Obi-Wan could stand it no longer. "I have every need of it!" He turned to face Qui-Gon, face streaming, his pride in tatters around him. His dignity didn't matter now, in the face of such potential loss. He dropped to his knees, pressed his head to the floor, sobbing. "Please, my Master. Please, don't do this to me. I need you. I'll be good. I'll do whatever you ask. I know I'm not worthy of you, but please don't send me away."

Sag-dho looked startled at the level of Obi-Wan's anguish. He glared at Qui-Gon, who was staring at the far wall, seeming to ignore Obi-Wan's outburst. "I never thought you capable of such cruelty," the healer said.

Qui-Gon felt Obi-Wan begging through the bond now, assaulting him silently with a mental barrage of love and devotion that crashed against his defenses with almost painful intensity. Despite his best efforts, Qui-Gon could no longer shield himself completely from his apprentice. He felt the first stirrings of anger and desperation as he ground out, "Do you need his permission to sever the bond?"

Sag-dho opened his large yellow eyes even wider. "Technically, no; you are his master. But Master Jinn --"

"I want it gone _now!_" he roared. "Do it or I will sever it myself."

Sag-dho took a step back, narrowed his eyes. "This action will be taken over my most strenuous objections. I will so note it in my log."

"Fine. Just do it." Obi-Wan was clinging to his boots now, and the mental barrage took his breath away: _I love you. Don't do this. I need you. I need my Master. I'll do anything. Why don't you want me? What have I done to deserve this? Oh, please, please ...._

Qui-Gon stood, taking Obi-Wan's tunics in his fists, and forcibly shoved the young man into his chair. Obi-Wan sagged, buried his face in his hands. After a moment to ensure that Obi-Wan would not again abase himself, Qui-Gon turned to Sag-dho. He took a deep breath to calm himself. "Now," he growled.

"Perhaps we had better contact the Council first --"

Muttering an epithet, Qui-Gon reached down and grasped Obi-Wan's head in his hands. Even now, Obi-Wan's soul was pleading, his agony too deep for words; images assailed Qui-Gon, the taste of his mouth as Obi-Wan kissed him, the searing pleasure of their joining, the bright light of the Force as they fought together, moved together as one. Qui-Gon couldn't take much more of this; he'd go mad, or perhaps just fall upon Obi-Wan and take him right there on the floor. _Force,- what an image. He felt his cock stir at the thought. He dropped to his knees before his apprentice, almost sobbing himself, and pressed his forehead to Obi-Wan's. He flailed frantically for his center, found it long enough to enter his apprentice's mind, and began yanking at the bond, trying to pull it apart before it consumed him utterly.

Obi-Wan felt his master's intent, and all his anguish turned to rage. Suddenly there was a fierce tug, and his mind went white with pain. He might have cried out, he didn't know ... all he knew was that he had to stop this, this mental dismemberment, before it killed him. He fought, tried to push his master away, and felt himself suddenly bound by invisible Force hands. He continued to fight the only way he could, with his mind, but despite his best effort to hold on he could feel the threads of the bond being torn from his grasp, lashing his mind like the frayed end of a whip. He did scream then, over and over, incoherent sounds of rage and denial. This was _his_ mind, _his_ bond. Did his wishes mean nothing? His master had no right ...

Then Qui-Gon seemed to crumple, and Obi-Wan opened blurry eyes to the sight of Sag-dho, standing over his master's slumped body, a hypospray in one long-fingered hand. Obi-Wan sagged in relief.

With surprising strength for such spindly limbs, Sag-dho jerked Qui-Gon's limp form away from Obi-Wan and pressed him into another chair. The master slumped, not quite unconscious but unable to do more than glare.

Sag-dho took a deep breath to calm himself, then entered the light trance he would need to do his work. For an experienced healer, the forming of a bond between two willing participants was a trivial matter. The dissolution of a bond, even when one or both parties was unwilling, was only slightly more difficult. Only if they actively fought could they suffer residual damage. And now he feared what he would find.

Obi-Wan was swirling in a maelstrom of darkness, despair, betrayal. He tried to push it away, tried to center himself in the Force, but his efforts only brought more pain. He felt the healer's presence in his mind again, probing softly, but even that contact left him gasping in agony. He moaned out loud.

Sag-dho suppressed a very un-Jedi-like anger. There was nothing for it, the damage was too extensive. Regretfully, he undertook to finish what Qui-Gon had started and to effect what repairs he could.

Obi-Wan felt healing energy soothe the ragged wounds in his psyche. The healer's deft touch probed, this time gently seeking and detaching the threads of consciousness that had tied him to his master since the age of twelve. It felt a little like hairs being pulled out, one by one, not painful, exactly -- nothing like the soul-searing pain he'd felt at Qui-Gon's efforts -- but a loss nonetheless.

When the last thread parted, Obi-Wan found himself alone in his head for the first time in nearly ten years. He looked up at Qui-Gon with reddened eyes and saw that his master had his own eyes closed, a tiny smile creasing his face.

Something inside him seemed to snap. He lunged at his master, knocking him to the ground. Qui-Gon, still limp, did not resist as Obi-Wan pummeled him with his fists, shouting curses both aloud and through the Force.

The last thing Obi-Wan felt before he lost consciousness was the prick of a hypospray to the back of his neck.

END Part 4.