Master Apprentice Archive The Red Band - Part 5: Standoff Quick search:

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

Category: Angst

Rating: R

Spoilers: none

Series: The Red Band. Best read in order.

Summary: Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan find themselves in possession of a bond neither wants.

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

Warnings: Mention of m/m sex.

Note: Thanks to everyone who created the concepts I have wantonly stolen including, but not limited to, soul bonds, life bonds, soul healers, Petitioner's Hall, and the creche. [g] Any errors contained within are attributable solely to my own ineptitude or The Will Of The Force.

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:

Qui-Gon stood looking down on the pale, pain-wracked features of his apprentice. So pallid and still. If it weren't for the shallow rise and fall of the young man's chest, he might have thought Obi-Wan dead.

Mace Windu stood tall and imposing beside him. His eyes rested on Obi-Wan, but his words were directed at Qui-Gon, a soft, deadly fury lending them intensity.

"I told you to have no contact with him until I gave you leave. Now matters are far worse. Master Sag-dho tells me he may well die, and it will be on your head."

Any other time, Qui-Gon might have argued with his old friend, but now he was too heartsick to register offense. Besides, Mace was right. This was all Qui-Gon's fault, a deadly miscalculation, and though he would give his own soul to see it put right, he doubted even that would be enough. The psychic trauma from their torn bond had put all his Padawan's systems into shock. _My fault, my fault._

He hung his head. "I thought it best at the time," he murmured.

"You always say that when you defy the Council. Well, this time you were wrong. You've denied the will of the Force, and now we may well lose two of the best Jedi this order has ever seen."

Qui-Gon raised his head at that. "Two?"

"If he dies, you'll be brought up on charges of murder. I'll see to it personally."

The tall, gangly Master Soul Healer entered. Ignoring the two other Masters, Sag-dho approached Obi-Wan and placed a trio of suction-tipped fingers on the young man's forehead. After a moment, Obi-Wan moaned, a sickening sound of pain and grief that tore at Qui-Gon's heart.

He had done this. He had broken Obi-Wan's spirit, invaded his mind, ripped away their bond, all in a misguided attempt to do what was best for Obi-Wan. Even now, a part of him whispered that he'd had no other choice. To protect Obi-Wan, he had nearly destroyed him. All in the name of love.

Love. Qui-Gon doubted he'd ever truly known what the word meant. Had his actions been motivated by love? by fear? or merely by some sort of intellectual rationalization? He no longer trusted his own emotions. Sometimes he wondered if the unflappable calm others had always taken for serenity was really nothing more than a kind of emotional _rigor mortis._

Yet it seemed he could still feel strongly about some things. He stared at Obi-Wan. Tears stung his eyes, and he let them fall. Obi-Wan deserved far better than what he'd been given. He deserved far better than what he'd be getting now, if this worked.

"The Council also bear some responsibility," said Mace, though his tone, if anything, had grown even more hostile. "We should never have given him back to you after Melida/Daan."

Qui-Gon could say nothing to that. He'd proven long ago he had no insight into matters of the heart. On Melida/Daan he'd failed his thirteen-year-old apprentice, failed to see that Obi-Wan was caught up in the emotional pull of a righteous cause, failed to take him in hand once he rebelled. It would have been simple enough, when Obi-Wan challenged him, to disarm the boy, discipline him for his defiance. Instead, in a fit of pique, he'd accepted his resignation, taken the young man's lightsaber, and abandoned Obi-Wan alone to his fate on a planet torn by civil war.

But his failure with Obi-Wan had started before then. It had begun with his repeated rejection of Obi-Wan as his Padawan, even after it became clear the Force had brought them together. Even after a bond had formed between them, unbidden, and the boy had melded with him in battle against the draigons as though they were one person.

No, he thought. It had begun even before that, with his first rejection of Yoda's insistent proddings to take the boy as his Padawan. He never seemed to learn ... Yoda was always right. Always.

And now Yoda had suggested this ... this desperate remedy. It was perhaps the only hope to save Obi-Wan's life, and Qui-Gon was once again fighting his old master's advice, fighting to deny for the third time the will of the Force in binding him to Obi-Wan.

He took a deep breath. This time he would listen and obey. For Obi-Wan's sake, he would not fight this, though everything within him cried out in horror at the step he must now take.

"If there were any other way ..." Mace said, and clenched his fists as if holding himself in check. "I'd almost rather see him dead than give him back into your hands. But there seems to be no alternative."

Before Qui-Gon could comment, Yoda entered the room, followed by Adi Gallia.

"Ready, are you?" Yoda asked him.

Qui-Gon nodded. The room was so still he could hear Obi-Wan's breathing.

Sag-dho reached out another of his arms and placed his fingers on Qui-Gon's face. He let out a breathy sigh. "Before these witnesses I bond your souls and your lives, forever to be one, until death take you both...."

Obi-Wan woke slowly to find himself lying in a bed in the infirmary. Qui-Gon was slumped in a chair next to him, asleep, his hand holding Obi-Wan's in a tight grip.

Obi-Wan thrilled to that touch. It felt so good and so right to be touching his master. Still fuzzy with slumber, he picked up the hand and rubbed it over the stubble of his own face, nuzzling the palm, then placing a tender kiss there.

Qui-Gon awoke with a start. He jerked his hand from Obi-Wan's grasp as if scalded.

Obi-Wan felt the loss of contact and groaned, fighting not to writhe. The feeling was like a powerful itch, radiating pain in waves over every inch of his skin.

Qui-Gon gasped, reached out again and placed his hand on Obi-Wan's bare forearm. Obi-Wan's pain eased as Qui-Gon sent him comfort across their bond.

Their bond.

Everything came back to him in a rush. His coming of age, offering himself to Qui-Gon only to be rejected, the humiliation and misunderstanding of their first sexual encounter, Qui-Gon's belated confession of love, their second, glorious joining, the nascent soulbond, Qui-Gon's betrayal as he tore the bond from their minds, leaving Obi-Wan empty and screaming with rage far beyond anything he'd ever felt before, so close to the Dark Side he would have killed both his master and himself if he had not been stopped.

Yet now all the anger was gone, replaced by a melancholy longing that felt very much like unrequited desire.

"What is this?" he croaked. "What's happened?"

Qui-Gon gave him an apologetic look. He, too, was feeling the tug of the bond, but he shunted the feelings aside. He was shielding as much as he could to give Obi-Wan privacy. "It seems the Force wants us to be together, whether we want it or not. We're lifebonded, Obi-Wan." Then, when Obi-Wan only stared, he said, "I'm sorry."

_Lifebonded ... whether we want to or not ... I'm sorry ..._

Horror formed a lump of ice in Obi-Wan's stomach. "Lifebonded? As in, one soul, one life, one death? Like in the legends?"

"It's not just a legend. It's very real, though rare, for obvious reasons." Qui-Gon's tone was dry.

"And you ... you didn't want this?"

"Of course not."

He remembered now. _I never asked for your promises._ "Then why ..."

"You were close to death, in psychic shock. Yoda suggested a lifebond might enable me to heal you where no one else could. He was right ... I was able to go in, call you back."

"Why do I not remember ..."

"You ..." Qui-Gon looked pained. "You had given in to despair. You were embracing the Dark. I used the bond to heal you. Like any trauma, I suspect you may never regain the memory of what happened. I hope you do not."

"I suppose I should ..." Obi-Wan looked down, then back up, a frozen smile in place. "Thank you, Master. For saving me. Despite ..."

"There is no need. It was my duty to do whatever I could."

Qui-Gon saw and felt Obi-Wan's reaction as the coldness of that flat statement stabbed him through the heart. It had hurt almost as much to say it. Part of him wanted to drop to his knees and grovel, to take the young man in his arms and comfort him as a lover might, to declare once and for all his utter devotion. But what could he say that Obi-Wan would possibly believe at this point? For Qui-Gon to protest his love after such a brutal assault would border on the obscene. He had no right. Especially since he no longer trusted his own heart.

Obi-Wan tried to roll away from their contact, but Qui-Gon wouldn't let him. The older man followed him, ending up on the bed on his hands and knees over Obi-Wan's prone form, contact maintained as his thighs squeezed the young man's slender hips from behind. The position and the proximity to his student's heat stirred him to instant, painful arousal. It was the damnable bond, demanding to be completed. It would take only a slight adjustment of fabric and he could be sheathing himself into that tight, hot body beneath him. Obi-Wan would welcome it, he knew -- there was no hiding from the bond -- Obi-Wan was as desperately aroused as he.

Qui-Gon swallowed hard and tried to still his pulse. "It was that or let you die, Obi-Wan. And now it is done, and there is no way to make it undone. We must live with it as best we can." He slid his palms from Obi-Wan's shoulders down to his hands and back again, then down his spine to the base. "And it will have its rewards," he murmured huskily. His hands seemed to have a mind of their own as they pushed aside the medical gown and grazed firm, warm flesh. Both men groaned at the pleasure of skin on skin.

Obi-Wan lifted his hips, panting, and Qui-Gon skimmed his hands over and between the young man's thighs, eliciting a gasp of arousal from both of them. He worked his way down and back up the young man's legs with nips and kisses, then nuzzled his beard against one rounded globe.

Obi-Wan grunted. "Quit stalling and get it over with."

_Oh, Force, yes._ Qui-Gon bent and placed a kiss at the nape of Obi-Wan's neck, then another upon the shoulder.

Obi-Wan grunted again and shifted away from the tickling beard. "Don't!" he said sharply.

Qui-Gon froze. His whole body seemed to throb with need. "What?"

"Don't kiss me. Don't pretend. Just ... just do whatever it is you have to do and then get off me."

"Pretend?"

Obi-Wan let out an explosive sigh and let his body go completely limp. "You should have let me die," he said into the pillows.

Qui-Gon remained still for a long moment. Then he eased himself off of Obi-Wan, careful to maintain contact with an arm or a calf as he crawled off the bed and back into the chair. He tugged Obi-Wan's gown back into place. His body was screaming at him, but he squelched his desire and tried to release it to the Force.

Obi-Wan turned and looked at him, his eyes bright with unshed tears, his voice rough with need. "What are you doing?"

"I will not take you against your will."

Obi-Wan's anger resurfaced, not fire this time, but ice. "That didn't stop you before."

Qui-Gon could think of nothing to say to that. He stood abruptly, breaking the contact between them. Both men hissed, but the itch was bearable ... more bearable than looking into his bondmate's changeable eyes and seeing betrayal and despair. He turned and left the room.

Qui-Gon sat in the too-small chair in Master Soul Healer Sag-dho's chambers, watching the yellow-eyed alien stir a cup of pungent liquid with a tentacled finger. Had he less training, Qui-Gon might have been squirming or wringing his hands. As it was he sat quietly, feigning a serenity he did not possess.

"You were right to come to me," the healer said in his soft voice. "I have had a look at your file. It was ... instructive."

Qui-Gon breathed steadily, in ... out ... in ... out. If he concentrated on that small, simple task, he might not fall apart. He might not lose his mind completely and start banging his head against the wall. It had been more than three weeks since he had last spoken to Obi-Wan. Twenty-two days, nine hours, forty-seven minutes since he'd touched his bondmate. The memory of their last encounter made him cringe inwardly.

When he'd recovered, Obi-Wan had requested separate quarters. He'd packed up and moved into the single knights' dormitories. There he led a solitary existence, teaching classes, sparring with the Weapons Master, and sending regular progress reports to Qui-Gon. He had requested there be no personal contact between them, a request Qui-Gon had felt compelled to grant. But this could not go on indefinitely. At some point they must meet again, face to face. He was still the boy's Master, for Force's sake. He could not keep neglecting his duties. Yet he could not in good conscience demand a meeting until he knew, at least in part, what had caused him to act in such a way ... and until he was reasonably certain he would not cause further damage. He was hoping Sag-dho could help him understand his own heart.

"I am not surprised you have had difficulty with issues of trust," the healer went on. "The real surprise is that you have been able to function as well as you do."

"Get to the point," Qui-Gon demanded harshly. He squeezed his eyes shut. "Please," he added in a softer tone.

Sag-dho's large eyes widened further. "This will not be a quick process, Master Jinn. I fear we are going to have to regress you to childhood to recover a number of traumatic memories. You must reconcile yourself to a long, arduous, and painful recovery. In the end, you may not find yourself any better off, but at least you will understand why you are as you are."

"As I am? What does that mean?"

Sag-dho sighed, fluttered his fingers. "Do you want the technical terms, or will the layman's explanation suffice?"

"I just want to know what's wrong with me. Why I keep hurting him. Why I don't ..." He clamped his mouth shut. His whole body shook.

Sag-dho's hands extended, resting lightly on his arms. A wave of peace washed over him, and the trembling subsided. "You are a man of great compassion, Qui-Gon. Yet I believe you consider everyone and everything worthy of consideration and respect except yourself. Tell me, are you a good person?"

"What?" Qui-Gon felt cornered, suddenly, and looked away from the healer's knowing eyes. "I try hard to be."

"Yet as Master Yoda is fond of reminding us, there is no try." Sag-dho smiled. "Deep down, in your most secret heart of hearts, do you believe Qui-Gon Jinn is a good person?"

Qui-Gon closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. The trembling had begun again. He fought the urge to flee and made himself answer the question. "No," he whispered.

"Yet you have dedicated your life to helping others. Is that not what defines the essence of a good person?"

Qui-Gon was silent for a long time. "Sometimes ..." he said, then hesitated. "Sometimes I feel like a ..."

"A fraud?"

"Yes." Qui-Gon nodded. Now that his secret had been said aloud, he felt as if a burden had been lifted from him. "Everyone looks at me and sees a great Jedi Master, a successful warrior and diplomat, but on the inside ... there's nothing. I am empty." Tears leaked from his closed eyes. "And now I've tied him to me forever. I should have had the courage to let him go. _Force,_ I wish ... I keep thinking about killing myself." He grimaced, his hands fidgeting with the edge of his tunic. "I've been having fantasies about it, especially since the ceremony, but of course ..." he looked up. "That would kill _him_ as well."

Sag-dho sighed. "It is clear you have profound feelings of self-loathing. You have been wounded, deeply, and to stop the pain, you have shut down your emotions. All that is left is duty, achievement, work, sacrifice. You have been using these as a way to try to make yourself feel worthy, but no matter how much you do, how hard you try, it is never enough ... is it?"

Qui-Gon covered his face with his hands, digging his fingers into his own flesh. "I go round and round but I never come to any satisfactory conclusion." The anguish in his own voice tore at his soul. "What is happening to me? Why do I feel this way?"

Sag-dho grasped his arm. "That is what we are going to discover. Come, let me help you. We will do this together."

Obi-Wan surfaced from his meditation in the Room of a Thousand Fountains to find Master Yoda seated on the bench nearby, gazing at him with his ears cocked in that peculiar way that meant he was brooding.

Obi-Wan nodded. "Master Yoda."

"How feel you, young Obi-Wan?"

Obi-Wan smiled wanly. To Yoda, everyone must seem like a child. "Passing fair, Master."

He felt a probe, like the jab of Yoda's gimer stick, only instead of pain in his thigh the blow throbbed in his mind. "Strong your shields are."

Obi-Wan raised a brow. "I've had need of them these past few weeks, as you well know."

"Need to shield from your bondmate, you should not. Unacceptable this is."

"Master Yoda ..." Obi-Wan swallowed to stop himself from saying something sharp and unforgivable. "Neither of us wanted this. You ..." He stopped, tried again. "I am carrying out my assigned teaching rotation. Unless my performance of my duties is being compromised, I don't see how it's anyone's concern but mine."

Yoda's ears wilted. "Concerned for a friend, I am. For two friends. Like to see you suffering, I do not."

The genuine compassion flowing from the tiny Jedi Master almost undid Obi-Wan's careful facade of serenity. "The only way this suffering will end is if we both die. I am not yet desperate enough to welcome such a drastic solution, Master."

"Another solution there is," Yoda hinted softly.

Obi-Wan shook his head. "If you mean we should just consummate the bond and pretend all is well ... Master, he made it very clear with word and deed that he did _not_ want to be bonded to me. He has not once since all this happened even tried to apologize to me, or explain himself to me, or tell me he loves me. And after all he has done ... I don't even ..." He stopped, realized he'd been wringing his hands, and tucked them into his sleeves.

Yoda sighed, his ears drooping. "Foresee this, I did not."

Obi-Wan just looked at him and waited for him to continue.

Yoda eased himself off the bench and came to Obi-Wan. He placed a clawed hand on his head. "A story, I must tell you."

Obi-Wan nodded. He wondered how much more he could take before he lost his mind completely.

Yoda sank to the ground with a grunt. He twisted his stick in his hands for a moment as if stalling. Finally, he looked up, his eyes sad. "A foundling, Qui-Gon was. Left in the Petitioner's Hall. Less than two standard years, he was, but already strong with the Force."

Obi-Wan held his breath. This was something he had never heard.

"At first, nothing wrong did we sense. Happy, the creche masters were, to have such a compliant child. Never complaining. Always obedient, was he. Not like other two-year-olds." Yoda shook his head. "Sensed it, they should have."

"Sensed what?"

"Never sure of the details, were we. Tests were done. Signs of abuse, they found. Old injuries, scars, broken bones. In his hair and blood traces of ryll, glitterstim, hotweed ... unidentifiable, others were."

"Oh, Force ..." Obi-Wan whispered.

Yoda's ears drooped even more. "My fault, this is. One so damaged, the healers would not recommend to the creche. Yet strong was he with the Force. Thought to save him, I did." Yoda looked up, his green eyes full of sadness. "Now suffer, you both do."

"You're saying ..." Obi-Wan swallowed, began again. "You're saying he hurt me because he had been hurt as a child?"

"In a way, yes."

"I don't accept that, Master Yoda. He is an adult. Everything he did, he chose to do. Everything he said, he chose to say. Whatever happened to him years ago is no excuse for what he has done to me."

"Excuse it, I do not."

"Then what is the point of telling me this? Am I supposed to feel sorry for him, take pity on him?"

"Forgive him, you should."

Obi-Wan rose to his feet, his heart full of jagged ice. "Why should I forgive him? He has not even said he was sorry! As if there was anything he could do or say at this point that would make up for what he has taken from me."

"Beneath a Jedi it is, to hold a grudge. Destroy you it will." Yoda thumped the ground with his stick for emphasis.

Obi-Wan stared down at Yoda in disbelief. "My life is already destroyed. I am lifebonded to a man who does not love me and whose presence I cannot even tolerate. I will never marry, never have a family, never, apparently, even have sex again with anyone but myself. I cannot complete my training, not the way things stand. I may never be a knight. All my dreams and hard work will be for nothing. What could possibly be worse than that?"

Yoda's ears tilted. "To the Dark Side, you could fall."

Obi-Wan bit back an angry retort. He bowed his head and took a deep breath, then another. "I know," he whispered. He looked up, his eyes bright. "I know, and sometimes ... sometimes, I don't care. Please ... help me, Master." He clenched his fists. "I don't want to turn. But I'm so angry ..."

Yoda drew symbols in the dirt with the end of his stick. It was a long time before he spoke. "With Sag-dho, Qui-Gon is. Retreat to Dantooine, they will. A long time, his healing will take." He looked up. "A new master you need."

Obi-Wan felt a tendril of hope blossoming. "Easier said than done. We're short on teaching masters these days."

"Your teacher, I have ever been, Obi-Wan. Will be again, if you wish."

Obi-Wan's eyes widened, then a tentative smile crept across his face. "I'd like that, Master. I'd like that a lot."

END Part 5.