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Reckless Acts Of Kindness

by Sian1359 (sian1359@yahoo.com)

Archive: MA and my site: http://www.hawksong.com/sian/index.html

Category: AU, Action/Adventure, H/C

Pairing: Q/O

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: This takes place within my Adventures with Mace & Jame universe, but is an unnumbered sequence. For completists, it would be 3b, coming just after Interlude. The only thing a new reader needs to know is that Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan are recent lovers, Mace Windu is a good guy, Jame D'Kalette is a non-Jedi but Force sensitive, female pilot assigned to Mace as an aide de camp, and the four of them have had a number of missions and/or adventures together already.

Disclaimers: Not mine. Anything recognizable belonging to Lucas, Jude or anyone else probably belongs to them.

Feedback: Please -- On or Off list

Kuddos: Now that Qor has broken the ice (and the glass [g]), here is my past offering for Living Force II. My thanks to Qor, M'ki and their English beta, and to Lori & Elayna who made sure I didn't come off as a complete idiot. I couldn't do it without them. Also, Fuumin did an absolutely wonderful art piece for this story - quite worth the price of the zine alone.

Summary: A plot is afoot that tests the Jedi in general as well as our favorites.

Act 1.

"Take off your clothes."

It had been easy, when all had been said and done. Despite his good- natured threat a few days earlier, and his partner's deep-throated acceptance of that challenge. Despite his partner's full confidence that it couldn't be pulled off. But all he'd needed do was show his interest. Not by asking permission from the man who towered above him in so many ways beyond his height. No, once they were alone, he was no longer a Padawan Apprentice to a Jedi Master, bound to obey in all things. Behind the closed doors of their shared quarters, he was simply Obi-Wan Kenobi. Student, friend and now lover of Qui-Gon Jinn.

Nor was this the first time they'd made love since that first joining. With them both on leave from active duty, they'd managed to find time to make love at least once every day. In between keeping up on training and lessons, and taking the time to dabble in forgotten hobbies, catch up on set aside responsibilities and visit friends during this unforeseen yet not unwelcome stay in the Temple. In their home, though in truth home had been at Qui-Gon's side for over ten years now, no matter what environment they were slogging through.

It had been nice to find out Qui-Gon felt the same about being home - better than nice, actually. A relief and revelation. A renewal. And a redirection of their relationship.

Just that initial acknowledgement to each other had been enough for Obi-Wan. Had almost been too much. That Qui-Gon wanted more than his filial love, devotion and friendship was the answer to a dream he had long hidden away in his heart as unattainable.

And was also part of his current dilemma.

As fantastic as their first sexual encounter together had been, too much of it had at Qui-Gon's direction, as he had been blindfolded and lightly restrained. Their subsequent couplings had him taking a more active role, and he supposed he had only himself to blame for closing his eyes so often. But Qui-Gon generally insisted on pleasuring him into near senselessness and frankly, before this moment, he had not yet had the opportunity to just look at the body before him through a lover's eye.

Thus the interest, the near insistence that this time it was his turn to direct their love-making.

And thus the command, *Take off your clothes.*

Because they had not intended to go out of the Temple at all on this day, nor meet with anyone other than a few friends later in the evening, neither currently wore their full Jedi uniforms. Which meant Obi-Wan would have to wait on indulging one of his fantasy that involved the long, dark brown cloak his Master normally wore. On the other hand, however, this also meant he wouldn't have to wait quite so long for the unveiling to be completed.

Qui-Gon pulled the honey colored shirt he'd been wearing - the shirt that brought out all of the warm highlights of his skin tone and his beautiful dark hair instead of the occasionally all too noticeable dusting of silver that mingled in its long lengths. The dark honeyed hue also contrasted wonderfully with the blue of Qui-Gon's eyes, softening the fierceness that could see through any deception. Or maybe the warmth within those liquid depths came from the emotions spreading between them and not some outer agent.

As Qui-Gon had already kicked off his socks and boots at their first arrival back in their quarters - a habit Obi-Wan shared, no doubt in part because of how many leagues they too often seemed to march in them - he only needed to loosen the buttons at the top of his pants before he could skim out of them and his undergarments. Obi-Wan didn't mind Qui-Gon taking the time to fold all of those garments; the older man's sharply muscled backside almost entranced him more than the view of Qui-Gon's front. Besides, they had already spent too many minutes on more than one day trying to find all the pieces of clothing that would be tossed or pulled off almost as soon as the outer door could be shut and locked as a precursor to frantic comings together. Neither particularly wanted a repeat of the embarrassment of having a friend be the one to find Obi-Wan's tunic draped across the uppermost shelf of their bookcase. Or Qui-Gon's pants half stuffed behind the cushions on their couch.

When Qui-Gon finished stacking his things on a nightstand, he straightened before turning around to face Obi-Wan. The fluidity of the unconscious play of muscles in his legs and back gave lie to the age and life the silver of his hair represented. Although twice Obi-Wan's age, Qui-Gon was also as fit or even fitter. Fitter, taller, stronger. And much more masculinely beautiful to Obi-Wan's mind. He saw all of the scars, the broken nose and the tiny lines around Qui-Gon's lips and eyes not as detractors to the other's beauty, but as enhancements. Evidence of humanity and character on view before him, all parts of a beloved whole. Qui-Gon represented everything noble and light, was the personification of Obi-Wan's beliefs in the Living Force. He was his hero, his role-model and now, the other half of his soul.

Not to mention the current object of a remarkably powerful lust.

"Sit on the edge of the bed."

Obi-Wan only moistened his lips when Qui-Gon readily complied. While he had no doubt the other could feel his rising emotions through their bond of Fusion as it also allowed them to share thoughts, he wasn't going to make emotions or thoughts obvious. Which is why Obi-Wan took great care to only tighten his fingers on the arms of the chair he sat in, instead of squirming to find a more comfortable position in his own clothing that now felt about two sizes too small. And way too warm.

Even though being two Jedi had no part to play in this time, in this room, individually they were always Jedi. Not just what they were, but who they were. And a part of Obi-Wan needed to show not only to himself, but to his Master that he could do this without losing control.

*There is no passion, there is serenity.*

Or so had been laid down for them long ago in the basic tenets of the Order's founding. Had he still lived, the ancient Teaching Master Odan-Urr would no doubt be scandalized to learn of what was happening here. As might a few living Jedi -- like most of those sitting on the Jedi's High Council. But in Qui-Gon's teachings to Obi-Wan, it had always been there is no passion without serenity.

The universe was too vast a place and filled with such a variety of life, with such a variety of philosophies and faiths, for a Jedi to be completely without passion. Total objectivity might be the goal Jedi reached for in their dealings with others, for others, such a seeking of objectivity by complete immersion or total disconnection from the patterns that governed life too often failed. Life was passion, emotion.

As a Jedi fought only to defend or protect, when those they sought to help feared them, too often a Jedi failed. And something died. A person. A world. An ideal.

The Jedi who forgot or disregarded the passions that existed in others invariably were mistrusted in turn. Or fostered their own arrogance and downfall. Wars had been started because Jedi lost sight of what was important. Including the war within their own Order long millennia past, which had led to the Sith and their worship of all things Dark.

Enough Jedi believed love led to passion and loss of control, which led in turn to the Darkside, that abstinence and celibacy were common lifestyle choices. Qui-Gon, however, did not. And he had never burdened any of his Padawans with such a strict interpretation of the Code. Not surprising, since Qui-Gon had his own interpretation not only about passion and serenity, but for just about every aspect of the Code, and often times such ideas directly contradicted that of the High Council. But in the matters of love, even the majority of the High Council agreed there could be a place for it within a Jedi's life. That there could be a place for it between a Master and a Padawan, assuming the Padawan was of a sufficient age and maturity that such a relationship would not come between their more important teaching relationship.

He and Qui-Gon were still working on that.

*There is no emotion, there is peace.*

Well, Obi-Wan's emotions were anything but peaceful, but it was his intent to meditate on the virtues of the man before him. He could meditate on all of the rest later.

Obi-Wan had no idea whether the amusement that lightened Qui-Gon's features reflected the other overhearing his most recent inner thoughts, or if Qui-Gon simply awaited his next command and was expressing an overall enjoyment of their interlude so far. He could ask, of course. Or could check through the bond himself. But Obi-Wan decided to gather more empirical evidence through his more common senses. And preferred to replace amusement with something a little more … intense.

He certainly wanted Qui-Gon's thoughts to be on him. Yet he wanted Qui-Gon to speculate on what was going to happen. Or how he should react, not whether Obi-Wan was becoming too emotional. No Master or Jedi here. No lesson unless it was the practical illustration of living in the moment.

"Scoot a little closer to the edge of the bed, if you please. Your legs are long enough."

Qui-Gon raised a brow but complied quickly enough, though he actually took his time completing his movements.

Obi-Wan could feel Qui-Gon strengthen a layer of his inner mental shields, his lover taking partial responsibility not to destroy the mood Obi-Wan intended to build by uncovering Obi-Wan's plans within his thoughts. Obi-Wan also fiddled with his own; the two men stayed linked, but now had access only to each other's emotions.

Anticipation. Near overwhelming desire.

"That's good," he encouraged, entranced that Qui-Gon had agreed to this type of game. And seemed to be enjoying it on its own merit instead of just because it pleased Obi-Wan. "Go ahead and lean back a little, on one elbow. Your right. And spread your legs. Yes, just like that."

Like every other portion of Qui-Gon's body, he was generously endowed sexually. Obi-Wan now had a very good view of a partial erection beginning to jut out above a hefty, enticing set of testicles. His mouth dried again, but Obi-Wan put off licking his lips. What he wanted to do was lick Qui-Gon's - to lick all of Qui-Gon. But not yet.

Not yet.

"I can see you are enjoying this, but not enough, perhaps?" Obi-Wan flicked his gaze from Qui-Gon's penis to meet the other's cobalt blue eyes straight on. "Take care of that," he said a bit more forcefully. "Play with yourself so I can see just how big it gets." To blink now would show weakness, or a faltering resolve to continue as they were, something Obi-Wan had no desire to have the other think.

He continued to hold Qui-Gon's stare even after he could peripherally see the other's arm begin to move rhythmically. Until Obi-Wan saw not only acknowledgement in Qui-Gon's gaze, but acceptance. And a flush of pleasure. Arousal. Only after that did Obi-Wan lower his eyes to watch the hand whose fingers had always amazed him for their fluent and delicate maneuverings despite their large size.

Coming to know Qui-Gon as a preteen, Obi-Wan had always felt dwarfed at his Master's side. By his Master's size as well as his presence. He had not grown to match his Master, still standing a good eight inches and seventy pounds smaller upon adulthood. But Obi-Wan had finally matured enough to find acceptance in their differences. Along with a measure of comfort and pleasure that Qui-Gon would always be just a little larger than life to him, even if he no longer used the pedestal first erected in Obi-Wan's childhood.

And Obi-Wan didn't really need to watch to know how large Qui-Gon's penis extended; his body was quite intimately aware of the breadth and length it could reach. Even now he could feel a ghosting of past sensations which made him want to squirm in his chair again. But being able to watch fascinated him. To see how Qui-Gon derived his own pleasure. At how the shaft lengthened and straightened toward the dark hair lining the center of Qui-Gon's abdomen, its tip reaching well above the heavier patch his hand fisted above.

Stealing a glance back upward, Qui-Gon's eyes were nearly closed. But his mouth had opened, the pink tip of his tongue coming out of hiding and moistening his own lips as Obi-Wan still wanted to do. Emotions were building in the both of them, their link allowing them to feel and reflect each other's arousal. Obi-Wan was quickly reaching the point where his mental fulfillment would be enough to stimulate the physical without need of an additional trigger.

No. Too soon.

"Stop for a moment," Obi-Wan ordered hoarsely and matching Qui-Gon's sudden shuddering as together they pulled back a little from the edge they'd climbed. When a low moan also forced its way through Qui-Gon's lips, Obi-Wan almost dove back into their connection. But to do so would have him climax without Qui-Gon, something even worse than both reaching climax too soon. He further tightened his fingers around the wooden armrests, concentrating on the chair's unyielding hardness and the creak of pressure his action elicited. And on the tension in his hands as he forced the blood away from there. And from elsewhere.

Again their eyes met, a connection forming between them that had nothing and everything to do with the Force. Primal, glowing, this link was born outside of the bonds of Jedi. And outside of time. This was an echo of their first time and the first time -- when the first sentient recognized that being together was better than being alone. Reason over instinct.

And so very much desire.

Obi-Wan needed pull back from that connection too, though, like his mental link with Qui-Gon, he didn't shield himself from its wonder entirely. He settled his gaze back on Qui-Gon's cock and took in the expanding bead of moisture that welled from the tip.

"Your lips look dry."

Or maybe that was just his own.

"Touch yourself again and anoint them. But don't lick it off!"

Qui-Gon showed no hesitation in tasting himself. The other collected the pre-ejaculate and rubbed it across his fingers with his thumb first, then brought his hand slowly up to his lips. It was Obi-Wan's turn to moan when Qui-Gon painted that always expressive mouth. And dared to lick just a little. But Qui-Gon left his lips -- and fingers -- glistening.

Obi-Wan forced himself down into his chair again, impacting against its back with enough force to shift it a half an inch across the carpet. "More," he whispered. "Coat both lips and your tongue. Paint yourself, across your nipples and balls."

Although Qui-Gon needed to work his cock a little more to bring forth enough moisture, he stayed within the boundaries set for him, stopping his grip before he might fall over the edge. Not that the edge was far. Or stopping was easy. His breaths now turned into pants and his darker nipples started to rise and hardened even before he rubbed his pre-cum around and over them.

Leaking enough on his own to so anoint Qui-Gon, and to thoroughly dampen the loose pants he wore, still Obi-Wan did nothing to touch and relieve his own aching hardness. His control would not survive freeing his erection, and so he waited, continuing to work hard to prolong this for them both.

"Have you enough left to ready yourself for me?"

A hitched breath. The tiniest of nods that spilled a handful of the hair that Obi-Wan so loved down to also brush across one of Qui-Gon's nipple.

"Lift your left knee and put that foot on the bed, then." This exposed the rest of Qui-Gon. "Go ahead, prepare yourself."

More ragged breathing - his, Qui-Gon's - it didn't matter. And when Qui-Gon breached his outer ring with a second finger and started to scissor them, Obi-Wan surged out of his chair. But he stopped himself from closing the distance between them. He waited, watched, unaware that his breathing had synchronized with Qui-Gon's, or that his tongue now mimicked the in and out of Qui-Gon's fingers. All unknowing, Obi-Wan dropped to his knees between his lover's outstretched legs, so intent was his focus on what Qui-Gon was doing.

And why.

A quick trip up for more pre-ejaculate then Qui-Gon's fingers resumed their task. A third finger was added. And now Obi-Wan fumbled at the ties of his pants. When he rose, he left them behind, when he took the last steps forward, he didn't take the time or effort to pull off the singlet that covered his chest. No more teasing, no more preparation other than to smear his own fluids down the length of his hardness.

With Qui-Gon's fingers still holding himself open, Obi-Wan swept his right arm under the knee of Qui-Gon's raised leg and lifted just high enough that he could relieve the ache those entrancing fingers had created. Qui-Gon fell back onto both elbows and his shoulders, lifting himself up further so that Obi-Wan needn't contort himself to sink inward in his entirety.

Somehow Obi-Wan managed to make it last for more than just a few strokes, to take the time to concentrate on Qui-Gon's pleasure before his own. Now as he leaned over, he cleaned Qui-Gon's lips with his own, and sunk his tongue into that second cavern of warmth. With just a little more maneuvering, his flexibility enabled him to then pull back enough to lap at Qui-Gon's nipples without losing his rhythm. He thrust just so against Qui-Gon's prostate several times before arching his head and body back and moving his free hand to clasp Qui-Gon's cock.

He set the rhythm for them both then, or rather their breaths did, their heartbeats. And the blood that pulsed through their veins. Two minds and one soul. Twin bodies, a shared communion. It no longer mattered who filled whom, and who was being gripped. Or who came first. Like their hearts and their breathing, in this they were also in synch, their partner's pleasure triggering their own, then their climaxes triggering a release of all of their shielding so that for a moment of suspended time, their consciousness merged completely and the Force was awash with the brilliance of their connection.

Fusion.

Qui-Gon had only a vague remembrance of sliding further up onto the bed. Of pulling Obi-Wan along with him. He didn't bother to move his love from where Obi-Wan laid sprawled and insentient across his chest, other than to better position them both so that muscles strained perhaps a little more than was prudent, wouldn't feel worse later. But the repositioning brought Obi-Wan's softening cock out of Qui-Gon's body, and that was a little more noteworthy. As was the pang of regret Qui-Gon felt clear down to his toes. And the fuzzy murmur of protest from Obi-Wan.

Regret and protest aside, Qui-Gon wouldn't be up for another round of lovemaking like that for at least several hours.

While his libido and stamina had made a remarkable effort of rejuvenation upon becoming Obi-Wan's lover, there were still a few limitations even will, desire and a lover half his age couldn't overcome.

Of course, even will and desire were pretty much beyond Qui-Gon right now.

The bond he and Obi-Wan had formed after their disastrous mission on T'ias was not a common lover's link. Fusion was beyond even the lifebonds and soulbonds they were content to let most people assume they shared. Indeed, the two of them hadn't yet become lovers when they had bonded in Fusion, hadn't thought to become so for almost two weeks afterward.

But once they had taken that final step, Fusion completed itself with a oneness that went far beyond bridging the gap between two different minds so that thoughts, as well as emotions, could be exchanged. Far beyond even the balancing of energy between them so that they could strengthen the other, and would ultimately end up aging together. And sharing one death.

If they tried very hard -- or were not careful enough - they could also exchange memories, subconscious dreams and unconscious desires. For brief moments of time they literally become one, their minds meshing and so too their Force senses and abilities. Parting after such a coming together brought more than protest or regret. Disorientation was one of the bittersweet results of such an opportunity to glimpse their future once they shed their corporeal concerns. At their deaths, they would become not only one with the Force, but with each other, and there was a part of their psyches that even now longed for such eternal oneness.

Qui-Gon knew immersion into Fusion affected Obi-Wan deeply, perhaps more deeply than it did himself. Obi-Wan had always been prescient, had, no doubt, seen or dreamt of their eventual coming together, though it had never been spoken between them. Obi-Wan had likely buried such knowledge as deeply as he had buried his burgeoning love for his Master, protecting them both until such time that they could deal with and act on such knowledge.

But Obi-Wan was young, so much younger than Qui-Gon, and to have such a compulsion to let go before his life had truly begun, might be just as detrimental to his training and his future as a Jedi Knight as would have been a too early declaration of love. As wonderful and fulfilling such moments of Fusion were, as his Master and his lover, Qui-Gon would have to ward carefully to keep them from happening too much, lest Fusion compel either into a death wish.

Waiting wouldn't be so bad, not when it meant being able to continue to enjoy the physical and emotional pleasures such as they had so recently indulged in. Too, there were many mental pleasures to be found outside of Fusion yet in being together as they were now. Such as shepherding Obi-Wan into his Knighthood.

Only a month ago, that thought had been bittersweet too. But now they had no fear of being separated once Obi-Wan passed his trials. Since they would be able to continue taking missions together after that time as they had for the past eleven years, Qui-Gon now found himself eager as well as proud that the trials weren't far off.

But he had more immediate, and much lesser trials to consider right now.

Like the cooling stickiness intentionally and unintentionally spread across his stomach and chest. And Obi-Wan's soft little snores that spoke of falling asleep in a position not exactly conducive to proper breathing. Fortunately, Qui-Gon was not a Jedi Master for nothing.

He sent the lightest of compulsions, deepening Obi-Wan's sleep just enough so that he could shift his young lover without awakening him. Qui-Gon decided not to take it personally when Obi-Wan then gathered up the nearest pillow to cuddle instead. After all, it was his Master's own pillow that Obi-Wan now clutched, and that pillow held more than just the scent of Qui-Gon's shampoo and soap.

The compulsion wasn't strong enough to keep Obi-Wan asleep were Qui-Gon to move extravagantly across the bed, nor if he called to Obi-Wan - actually Qui-Gon doubted any compulsion could be strong enough to keep Obi-Wan from answering were Qui-Gon to need him. Not even the imperatives of exhaustion or injury had managed that as they had so recently discovered.

Just as Qui-Gon knew of nothing that could keep him from Obi-Wan's side, although sheer distance thinned their bond to its limit of only a basic awareness. And an echo more compelling than the Force to eliminate that distance.

The sleep compulsion certainly wouldn't last through removing Obi-Wan's singlet, as it had no zippers, buttons or ties. To engineer that feat, Qui-Gon would have to pull it over Obi-Wan's arms and head, and that would need wait until he had a little cooperation. Which he imagined he'd get soon enough, as the material had made a passable effort in absorbing a portion of Qui-Gon's semen when Obi-Wan had collapsed on top of him, a patch which would be cooling and beginning to trouble Obi-Wan's sleep soon enough.

To take care of the cold stickiness across his own body, Qui-Gon reached out with the Force to the leggings Obi-Wan had discarded; already destined for the laundry they had to have a few dry spots left. And so he more thoroughly cleaned himself, then turned to Obi-Wan. For once he could study his slumbering Padawan without worrying about embarrassing himself or the younger man.

As his teacher and trainer, Qui-Gon knew Obi-Wan's body well, of course, better than anyone else in fact, despite the fact that he was not Obi-Wan's first lover. For the Jedi Master had watched it grow with a clinical eye that had turned appreciative for other reasons long before he could admit them. And had taken an even more active part in shaping it. He had suffered along with Obi-Wan when it became clear his Padawan had stopped growing well before obtaining the height or build Obi-Wan desired. But Qui-Gon had no complaints.

As a warrior, Obi-Wan's physique enabled him to keep up with and surpass Qui-Gon's own speed, plus Obi-Wan had a flexibility and grace that would continue to serve him long after he left his youth behind. As a lover, Qui-Gon found his body even more pleasing. The grace and flexibility that aided Obi-Wan in his acrobatic style of fighting were even more lethal to the eyes, hearts and libido of those who watched his Padawan stalking into a room, or moving so readily to someone's assistance, Qui-Gon included.

Small and compact he might be, but Obi-Wan had as commanding a presence as his Master's, so vitally alive with the Force and with inner strengths of character. Now Obi-Wan's face had begun to take on that character. As Obi-Wan grew into his manhood, the potential that had first brought them together as Master and Padawan was not only being realized, but visualized. As was the comeliness promised in the bright eyes and soft lips of the child.

Those eyes had haunted Qui-Gon in their ability to see into the future and into Qui-Gon's heart. It was only recently that he had learned to read Obi-Wan back, that he had finally learned the meaning of all of the colors they shifted into to signal Obi-Wan's moods. And the mouth was just as expressive, just as tempting to learn, both inside and out. But it was the cleft below Obi-Wan's lips that Qui-Gon had long studied from afar in silent fascination. Now that he had the privilege to touch it, to taste it when he saw fit, his fascination had only increased.

Qui-Gon couldn't resist brushing his thumb across the cleft now, nor from picking up the braid that trailed across Obi-Wan's damp singlet. Even the ridiculous Padawan haircut looked good on Obi-Wan, and how Qui-Gon loved to brush his palms and fingers against the spiky softness that crowned his Padawan's head. Right now his hair was growing out of the cut, at some weird insistence of Qui-Gon's former Master that hinted of an upcoming mission. And Qui-Gon knew that as much as he would regret having to cut the thin braid that marked Obi-Wan's years and progressions as a Padawan once his Obi-Wan became a Knight, he would enjoy combing his fingers through similar silky lengths once Obi-Wan could let his hair grow out completely.

He continued to run his fingers across Obi-Wan's body, for now keeping his touch soft enough to enhance whatever his lover dreamt, not disrupt. The well defined planes of Obi-Wan's chest and abdomen appealed to him as both lover and Master. As Jedi they both worked very hard to keep fit, to push their bodies beyond their limits and thus, constantly redefine them. Yet not only in battle did their bodies served them well.

Qui-Gon stopped just short of touching the shaft that laid nestled in darker auburn curls than the rest of Obi-Wan's ginger-colored hair. For all that Obi-Wan had despaired of his size while growing up, in some things he was definitely not shortchanged, if Qui-Gon could be excused the pun. Jedi were taught not to judge another by their size, could see in compatriots like Masters Yoda and Yaddle that all that mattered was how the size was used. And Qui-Gon knew that would have been the case between him and Obi-Wan, that indeed Obi-Wan had the skill which was more than enough. But Qui-Gon had to admit that he was also quite fond of the size, of how similar Obi-Wan's shaft was to that of Qui-Gon's lightsaber hilt and that, like the hilt he had constructed with his own hands, Obi-Wan's cock felt just as comfortable and right in his grip.

With that thought Qui-Gon gave into temptation. He tenderly cleaned the remnants of Obi-Wan's semen away and tossed the leggings back over the side of the bed, then tucked himself closer. Obi-Wan woke enough to turn to his side and nestle with his back pressing into Qui-Gon's chest, to cover Qui-Gon's hand with his own. Qui-Gon quickly pressed his lips to the back of Obi-Wan's head to encourage slumber again, even as he wrapped his fingers more securely around the shaft of Obi-Wan's penis and lifted his leg to tangle Obi-Wan's between his own. While they would not be able to sleep this way for too long, awakening thusly would be all the more sweeter.

They had plenty of time to get a nap before needing to separate later because of plans made to spend an afternoon with friends. And plenty of time to fall in love all over again.

Act 2.

Waist deep within the bowels of a power shunt relay is not a good place to get distracted. Of course, very little could actually distract a Force user, especially a trained Jedi, even if the Jedi was only an Apprentice - senior Apprentice. Taught from near birth, Jedi developed an almost preternatural awareness of their surroundings. They also had the additional benefit of learning how to read the currents of the Force that bound all things of the Universe together in a manner that was almost like predicting the near future. And that could serve as an early warning system. A kind of ability to see things just before they happened and, hopefully, react.

Then there were the portable shields that could be set as safeguards around any ship in the oversized docking bays of the Jedi Temple, or around any delicate mechanism when the work couldn't be completed in one of the Order's permanently shielded rooms set aside for just such tasks. Not only Jedi were sensitive to unexpected surges, and energy was energy, whether Force or mechanically directed.

Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi and Padawan Apprentice to the Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn, had set the portable shields before taking apart the ship's system, had also strengthened his own mental shielding not only to block out any potential distractions, but to prevent distracting his Master from being able to enjoy his own rare afternoon off. Just as Qui-Gon had done with his own internal barriers, although neither could absolutely and completely shut out the other since their recent forming of a bond of Fusion in addition to their much longer held training link.

Nor would they want to; their new bond allowed them to be connected as close mentally and emotionally as they had finally connected spiritually and physically. Mind, body and soul together not only for their rest of their corporeal lives, but a promise of one in all things once both passed beyond death and into the Force.

Yet it was because of this bond, along with several lesser links both had made with other Jedi, that all of their courtesies and precautions were not enough.

Obi-Wan had maybe a second of warning. Not enough time to call out to Jamevlyn D'Kalette, the pilot he was chasing down a system's failure for, even though he had set an open communicator on the slope of the conduit he had crawled into so they could coordinate diagnostics and tests with her in the ship's engine room. There wasn't even time for Obi-Wan to slip out of the tube, not completely, not far enough to escape the live power relays that ran most of the full length of the conduit, the relays he had to work at even under normal circumstances to stay the bare inches away from. However, he did try. Yet with a second's warning, he had time only to become fully aware of what was about to happen, and to feel some sort of relief that he was going to live through it.

But it was going to hurt -

When the disturbance hit, Obi-Wan even had a moment to realize he would have been overcome by the disturbance regardless of precautions, regardless of his and Qui-Gon's bond, or his fainter link with Master Mace Windu. Such a sudden loss of life created ripples in the Force. A significant number of losses meant a significant number of ripples, enough that even the least sensitive would feel something. That almost all of the dead were Jedi caused an even larger dissonance. But as horrible as those ripples felt as they rushed toward him, it was the personal loss so keenly felt by his Master, and by the Councilor also in close proximity that Obi-Wan was linked with by friendship and duty, that swamped and overrode first his inner then outer sight.

The redundancy safeties kicked in when the mass of his body disrupted the power stream. It quickly shunted the flow elsewhere, not soon enough for Obi-Wan to avoid getting a severe shock, but between that and his ability to dissipate energy through his body, he didn't even fall unconscious. But he felt awful, his body's synapses still randomly firing, his nerve endings raw points of pain. Totally exposed. It had been like trying to channel lightning, ten times - a hundred times worse than trying to dissipate the energy from a blaster rifle which was a trick in and of itself.

His mind felt even more stripped. It didn't help that his physical distress had transmitted itself to Qui-Gon, that for a few seconds the pain overwhelmed his Master's mental trauma of experiencing a close friend's death. At the moment their mental shields were in tatters, with neither of them strong enough to even think about restoring the barriers to block each other's quite different pain, much less marshalling the energy to do so.

But then their connection thinned to almost non existence without either of them actively doing something, and Obi-Wan bit back a sob of relief despite the headache this created. Though he had never expected being glad to have their bond muted, had frankly assumed such distancing between them would cause an even greater level of pain given the difficulties they had experienced before the bond had completely stabilized, he could only give thanks to the Force for Qui-Gon's absence now. Now he could finally concentrate on getting his body back under control.

Which quickly led Obi-Wan to discover the shoulder to elbow burn down his left shoulder as he rose to his knees from where he had ended sprawled on the floor, then shifted to lean back against a bulkhead. He wasn't sure if the subsequent onset of nausea came from the initial touch of the damaged flesh against the cold metal, from his reflexive jerking away which set too many nerves to twitching again, or simply from the now overpowering smell of burning flesh.

At least he had been wearing a sleeveless tunic and didn't have to worry about any cloth ash contaminating the wound.

But it didn't help his nausea to then feel the evidence that when he had jerked away from the bulkhead that bits of flesh had stayed stuck.

*IwillnotthrowupIwillnotthrow* --

"Obi-Wan!"

Vanity, pride, embarrassment -- call it what you will, but knowing Jame was racing her way toward him helped Obi-Wan keep his stomach under control, as did resting his forehead against his pulled up knees. He already had trouble enough living down the fact that he had been in an even worse state only minutes after he had first met the fetching pilot a couple of years ago. Including being violently ill all over his Master and her then -- and current -- boss, Master Jedi and Councilor Mace Windu. Of course, that hadn't kept the two of them from getting to know each other quite a bit better in the year that had followed their first meeting. It was only now that their relationship had redefined itself and settled into something akin to brother and sister that they both liked to embarrass the other mercilessly.

"What went wrong?" she asked as she pounded around the corner and skidded to a halt in front of him. "Is Qui-Gon okay -"

Obi-Wan nodded, even as that wasn't completely true. But Jame was one of the few people who knew the depth of the bond he had with his Master, and knew of a few of the drawbacks to being so closely connected with someone else. It was logical for her to have assumed he had been reacting to something that had happened to Qui-Gon; Obi-Wan had worked enough hours with her repairing her ship - not to mention completing a few missions together with Qui-Gon and Master Windu -- that she knew how unlikely it was that he had simply slipped.

Logical and correct, after a fashion.

"Someone Qui-Gon and Master Mace both knew well has died, along with several other Jedi," he said quickly as she knelt down in front of him, surprised at how much it hurt to say the words out loud. He had known other Jedi who had died before, including a couple of pretty good friends. But somehow this was worse. Because it was Qui-Gon's grief's perhaps, and because …

Shit!

Obi-Wan had felt not only Qui-Gon's reaction to the death, but Mace's almost as sharply, along with the echoes between the two Masters that spoke of multiple links to others they were close to. Even boasting numbers near ten thousand, there were actually few other Jedi in the Order the two Masters knew so well in common to have links with. There was Knight Tahl; but Obi-Wan had his own bond with the remarkable blind woman who had helped him and Qui-Gon through some very rough spots in their early relationship as Padawan and Master. Obi-Wan had not been affected directly enough for it to have been Tahl. Which left only members of the High Council then.

Maybe Master Adi Gallia, in part because she had been seeing both his Master and Mace when all three were Knights, and now she and Mace had resumed and were deepening their relationship? Or Ki-Adi-Mundi? Although his Master didn't always get along well with the only Knight who was a member of the Council, those very clashes had brought the two of them into contact with one another quite frequently. But neither of those felt right. Nor could it have been Master Yoda, who had chosen to take one of his very infrequent sabbaticals only two days earlier. While his own connection with Master Yoda would never equal that of his Master's, as Qui-Gon had been one of Yoda's own Padawans, Obi-Wan would have felt the ancient Master's death far more keenly no matter how far away it might have occurred. Which left only -

Plo Koon. The alien from Kel Dor with whom his Master had served under in the most recent Hyperspace Wars some eighteen years previous. Although the circumstances of one being a field agent and the other a Councilor, along with Qui-Gon finally taking a Padawan again eight years after the war had led them to very different lives, the taciturn Master was probably Qui-Gon's closest friend outside of Tahl, Mace or Master Yoda. And now he was dead. Murdered.

It was that final thought, and the vision it tricked out of Obi-Wan's prescience that overcame all of his carefully reconstructed controls. He didn't hear Jame's frantic query, nor feel her steadying hands take hold and carefully turn him to lower his head down into her lap in case he got sick and so wouldn't choke. Sorrow overwhelmed him again. His Master's, Mace, maybe even Master Yoda's. And that of the other Councilors, along with the sorrow of all of the other Jedi who were near enough or strong enough to feel Master Koon's and the others losses in the Force. The Order's sorrow and Master Koon's own, as he had recognized the agent of his death in those last moments and had time to weep for those who would die alongside him, and well as weep for the one who had years ago fallen to Darkness and executed this fatal act of vengeance.

The last thing Tahl expected as she picked up the broken remains of the glass she'd dropped when the disturbance in the Force washed over her was for her comm unit to signal. Perhaps she should have, for checking on others and reaffirming friendships was a common response by most sentient species upon learning of the deaths of friends or loved ones.

No matter how the knowledge got to them.

Tahl already knew none of those who had died included a close friend, not even Jedi she considered friendly acquaintances. Had that been the case, she would have more likely broken something more than just the glass. Like her head. For in that first moment of awareness and denial, she'd lost track of where she'd been moving within her quarters. Not a good thing for someone blind to allow to happen.

One of the deaths had come to someone quite well known, however. She could sense the pall that spread instantly over the Temple that spoke of many ties. And so it made sense if the call was coming from one of the crθche Masters, looking for help with the young charges. Many of the toddlers were too young to have understood what they might have felt, but they couldn't help but be bothered. Especially by the reactions of the adults around them.

"This is Tahl."

By the timing and the tone her unit produced, she knew the call originated from within the Temple and so did not need to worry about formality, even as the tone had not come in a sequence that she recognized. Nor did she recognize the voice, or the name given in response to her own. But Tahl did recognize the urgency, and the other two names the woman on the other end of the device used. Which enabled the blind Knight to place the other in her memory before the woman finished her plea as being Mace Windu's pilot and, to hear Qui-Gon talk about her, the rather staid Councilor's keeper. Or at least conscience.

Jamevlyn D'Kalette was also reputed to be Force sensitive, but her audible distress was not from a personal reaction to the Force-felt deaths that Tahl could tell.

"-- And Obi-Wan collapsed, either from the mental stress, or from his physical injury. I can't reach Mace or Qui-Gon directly, so I can only surmise they are in the Council Chambers. Can you get to Qui-Gon while I stay with Obi-Wan in Healers Hall?"

Tahl felt the barest of smiles twist across her lips. While she had rarely been one to take advantage of the solicitous of the others her blindness received in the course of her duties, the solicitous occurred nonetheless. Especially from the non-Jedi employed in various tasks around the temple. Like the docents who scheduled and monitored Council involved meetings, and who too often politely, yet resolutely prevented anyone from interrupting. If anyone could get to see the Council at a time such as this, it would be Tahl.

"Consider it done, Jame," Tahl quickly responded. "You just take care of Obi-Wan and I'll let Qui-Gon know what's going on. Or, if I can't get to Qui-Gon, I'll join you and let Obi-Wan know what has happened."

"Thanks. Jame out." In her concern and no doubt preoccupation with Qui-Gon's sweet, but trouble-prone Padawan, it seemed that Jame had forgotten her ship was stationary within the repair bay she had called and disconnected abruptly from. Which suited Tahl just fine. The Jedi Knight preferred brevity; it was more honest, and much easier to interpret now that she could no longer see the visual clues that normally communicated as much as words did while talking in so many others.

A bell began to toll. Stiffening in surprise, Tahl stopped at the door exiting her quarters. That bell tolled only during the remembrance ceremony for a Jedi who had gone on to the Force, but such a ceremony wouldn't be for hours - or days, depending on just how many had died. The only other time it ever rang was to announce the death of a Councilor.

"Damn." Well, that explained Qui-Gon's inattention to Obi-Wan. If it was Mace Windu or Master Yoda - no, Tahl would have known if it was Master Yoda. Every Jedi, no matter how far from Coruscant would know when Master Yoda passed into the Force. And Master Yoda was not currently on Coruscant, while the disturbance had been.

She hurried to the Council Chamber, easy enough to do even being blind, as the corridors were all but empty as other Jedi dealt with the news.

"The Council is in a closed session."

Damn again. Vedric Smoven was probably the worst possible docent that could have been on duty right now, the chief of those the Padawans called door dragons. Not only excruciatingly proper in manner and expectations, the elderly Sedonian seemed to delight in making it difficult to meet with one of the Council unless the Councilor had summoned you.

"I know, Docent Smoven," Tahl said with just the right amount of regret and contrition in her tone and in the depth of how far she bent her head. "I understand. But you need to let me pass."

It was only as the gray patched furred Sedonian repeated her words exactly, that Tahl realized she had reinforced her demand with a bit of Force-backed compulsion. She flushed but would apologize later, and he moved to her elbow with a speed that belied his age, leading her past guards at the doors.

Guards? But that never happened unless -

Neither were Force sensitive so they had to be from the Senate. Which didn't bode well, as Senate guards left their own chambers only when accompanying a Senator. No wonder the session was closed.

Tahl simply brushed back the short golden curls that ringed her head and lifted her chin, then took a confident step forward when the Docent let her elbow go. She had just as much right to be here as some Senator.

Conversation ceased as she strode forward a few steps that took her beyond the doors that softly clicked closed behind her. Tahl could sense someone stood before her, toward the center of the vast chamber that overlooked much of Coruscant including the rest of the Temple and over toward the Senate building, from what she remembered when she had been sighted. His aura was odd, though, stronger than the typical non Jedi, but rather devoid of any of the colors she usually identified people by. All she could sense was that the person was human. From the dips in the Force signatures scattered away from the center of the room, he had been acting agitated for a while - long enough that a few of the Councilors were losing patience - but Tahl could sense next to no emotion in the aura itself from the man.

Very, very odd.

Even the few seconds she tried to concentrate on the … Senator, was giving her a headache, and so she tilted her head to take in the more soothing auras. Although she knew few of the Councilors well enough to identify them solely this way, she certainly could count how many were present. And found four missing. Master Yoda, of course. Along with the one who had been killed. And one of the females. The last missing Councilor, she assumed, would be Mace Windu, since Tahl didn't sense Qui-Gon.

One of the other two women that sat on the Council was now coming her way. Not Master Yaddle, for the footfalls were too heavy and spaced apart to be from the diminutive Jedi who stood even shorter than the only other known member of her species, Master Yoda. There was also a quietness to the aura that let Tahl know it wasn't Adi Gallia.

Depa Billaba, then. A foundling rescued by Mace Windu some thirty years ago, and his only Padawan to date. Like her former Master, Depa had an almost uncanny ability to listen - to others and to the Force -- but did not exhibit the same necessity to so harshly judge everything that she heard. Master Billaba also had the knack of remembering the names of everyone she had ever met, as evidenced now since Tahl knew the woman only by reputation.

"Knight Tahl?"

After a nod, Tahl was being led toward one of two side doors of the Chamber, no doubt to one of the small rooms or offices some of the Council used to conduct private meetings. And hopefully toward Qui-Gon.

"Forgive my interruption Master Billaba," Tahl began quietly, trying to block out the rant of the Senator regarding her arrival, though she stopped in surprised hearing Mace Windu's response. So he wasn't the other missing Councilor.

What he was, despite his exceedingly proper tones, was annoyed.

Master Billaba's hand fluttered against her arm, a kind of benediction or understanding that Tahl wouldn't have shown up had it not been important. There was no place in the Temple that the death knell could not been heard. And no one but the very youngest of initiates who didn't understand what the bell meant.

"And my condolences for your - our - the loss." Without knowing for sure who had passed, it was damn hard to figure out just how devastated Master Billaba was, or how sorrowful Tahl needed to be.

The loss of any Councilor was horrible, of course. But while there was significant and mutual respect between the twelve of them, between the Order and the twelve as a whole, that didn't mean every Jedi liked one another. Nor would Master Billaba be one to give away her feelings even had death come to her former Master, or to whom ever she might currently be in a relationship with. Although he liked to claim it, Serenity was Depa Billaba's middle name, not Qui-Gon Jinn's.

"Master Koon has joined the Force," came the answer to almost every Jedi's current question. "Along with four of our Knights, a Master, her Padawan and, to hear the esteemed Senator from Naboo carry on, two very important assistants from one of the worlds he represents."

Tahl couldn't help but gape a little, not only at the loss to the Order, but by just how much emotion Master Billaba was exhibiting by telling her so much. Especially the thinly veiled sarcasm about the Senator and his people. Knights, Masters and Padawans may occasional spout off against some of the more political Senators they needed to interact with in the course of their duties, but the Councilors never did. At least not to someone who wasn't a part of that august body themselves. To have been so forthcoming meant either Master Billaba was extremely upset about the loss of Master Koon, or that Senator Palpatine was worse than obnoxious.

Hearing the dead Councilor to be Plo Koon explained a great deal. Although Tahl had not interacted with the Kel Dorian Councilor much in coming to know Qui-Gon so well, she was aware of how great a friendship the two of them had when Qui-Gon had been a Knight. Qui-Gon would have felt the death intensely and must have transmitted it to Obi-Wan, along with his own reactions. It was a wonder Qui-Gon wasn't at the Healers himself - for himself.

"Our loss is great indeed," Tahl murmured back. "And quite a personal blow to Qui-Gon. Is he here?"

"Yes. With Mace being … requested to preside over the meeting, Adi is with Qui-Gon now. Is there a problem with his Padawan?" Serene, and very, very quick on the uptake.

"Neither of us could reach Qui-Gon," Tahl prevaricated. If Qui-Gon was really bad off from feeling Master Koon's death, he didn't need added guilt or responsibility for his Padawan. On the other hand, once he was out from behind the shielding containing this floor of the tower, Qui-Gon would know something had happened to Obi-Wan he had not been aware of, and his guilt would magnify.

"I figured -"

Tahl, like the exasperated Senator in the center of the room, broke off when the door she'd most recently come through opened again. She could feel a sudden tension in the room, and a flare of shock from Master Billaba.

"Can't you manage your people?" the Senator snapped, though Tahl couldn't be sure if it was directed toward Mace and the rest of the Council, or to the Docent who had to be letting yet another person interrupt.

"As you can imagine, we have many details to be taking care of ourselves, Senator," came Ki-Adi-Mundi's remarkably patronizing voice. "No Padawans would dare to interrupt unless it was of the utmost importance."

Tahl could certainly hear the threat in those words, and imagined the Senator did as well, when he stayed any further objection.

Ah, Ki-Adi-Mundi. One of those universally disliked Councilors. Especially by Tahl.

It should have been a great day when a Knight was promoted to one of the permanent seats of the Order's ruling body. Such an honor and an example to others that not only Masters could make a difference. Tahl hadn't quite decided if Knight Adi-Mundi was just rude and arrogant, or whether his significant cultural and genetic differences such as his binary brain, simply made him difficult to be around. She did know she disliked his disdain for Padawans in general, but attributed that to the fact that he had not yet trained one himself. And that for all of his prodigious intelligence, he must have forgotten what it was like to be one. At least there were only a couple of Padawans he persecuted with an almost zealous fervor --

With a sudden sinking feeling overtaking her, Tahl found herself turning away from Master Billaba and reaching out through the Force toward the new arrivals. Three this time, and one not a trained Jedi by how chaotically her aura anchored itself in the Force. Of course. That would be Jame D'Kalette. Just as the second was a young non human smelling faintly of the sea and water lilies which had to be Padawan Bant, a Mon Catamaran and one of Obi-Wan's best friends. Which meant the third had to be the ubiquitous Obi-Wan Kenobi, a Padawan well on his way to eventually taking over Qui-Gon's place as chief maverick and thorn in the Council's collective side. And already a bigger one in Ki-Adi-Mundi's.

Tahl took a step back toward the center of the room and hid a smile when Master Billaba followed, her hand still solicitously grasping Tahl's elbow. The room was quite large and had no furnishings other than the seats the Council used, so no obstructions other than the people standing and sitting within. But with the level of emotion swirling about, Tahl appreciated the assistance in navigating her course.

"Forgive me Masters, Ser," came Obi-Wan's honey-melting voice.

Of course, if Obi-Wan's voice could melt honey, his Master's was melted butter. Rich, flowing, sinfully pleasing the both of them, and something Tahl had become quite the connoisseur of.

Tahl also happily noted no trace of intimidation there because of Ki-Adi-Mundi's words. The confidence that bolstered Obi-Wan's sophisticated accent was something new since his and Qui-Gon's return from T'ias. He wasn't apologizing for being there. And certainly not for being only a Padawan -- one without his Master at that.

Only for interrupting the Council members. And a Senator.

But his presence had to be for something more than just checking on his Master. Jame would have told him she'd sent Tahl to do just that.

Tahl could smell more than a hint of bacta and burnt flesh as she approached. So Obi-Wan had stayed with the Healers only long enough to get patched up. Not even to clean up, as she could also smell lubricants and other odors that assailed her whenever she boarded a ship. From the repair bay to the Healers and straight here, then.

No wonder the Senator sounded so put out.

"I have information for the Council."

"About the attack?" the Senator asked in a strident tone.

Obi-Wan paused and Tahl could only assume he looked to one of the Council - to Mace - for guidance. Or perhaps was trying to figure out who the Senator was, and whether his answer needed to satisfy this outsider. Had the guards moved away from their position at the doors and followed them in?

Wait a minute. An attack? The Senator hadn't said accident, but attack. Against the Jedi? Or those the Jedi had been with?

"Answer Senator Palpatine, Padawan," Knight Adi-Mundi ordered.

The snort Master Billaba made was so soft that Tahl wasn't positive she had heard it, but she could tell from the way the lady Councilor grew very still, and gripped her arm just a little tighter, that she was in mental communication with someone. Mace again, no doubt.

Mace, however, didn't contradict Knight Adi-Mundi, so Obi-Wan had no option but to obey.

"Yes, Masters, Ser." Obi-Wan's reluctance was obvious only to those who knew him well. "I have information about the attack."

The leaden feeling in Tahl's stomach deepened. Between seeing to his injury and reporting to the Council, Obi-Wan hadn't had time to receive contact from someone since the attack. There was only one way, therefore, he could know anything.

"Well, speak up, boy," the Senator commanded again. "I suppose one of the dead was your Master?"

Okay, two ways, but at least the one the Senator supposed was wrong. Just as was the Senator for even saying so in the first place.

Tahl was not the only one to burn at the Senator's callous disregard to what he was saying. Had it actually been Obi-Wan's Master who'd been killed, such a brutal dismissal for the very real mental and emotional anguish such a parting would have created would be intolerable. No matter who this Senator Palpatine was, or how infrequently he journeyed to Coruscant, he obviously knew enough about the Jedi who were sworn to support the governments he represented to know a Padawan would sense his Master's death. And he should, therefore, have also known enough not to be so cruel.

Either by way of another's expression, or his own native cunning, the Senator seemed to realize he had overstepped himself. "Forgive me, Master Windu. This is your chamber, not mine."

The oily words of a consummate politician. And not remotely an apology for the insult he had delivered to the Order or to Obi-Wan, just for the insult to territorial prerogatives. Tahl definitely didn't like this Palpatine. But then, she knew of few politicians whom she did like.

"I saw the attack, Masters," Obi-Wan began again, and from a sniff the Senator's direction Tahl wasn't the only one who noted his refrain in including the Senator this time in his words. "I saw who killed Master Koon and the others … and -"

"Those others were Senatorial assistants, boy," Palpatine snarled again. "Two of my personal aides."

"I grieve for thee, Senator," Obi-Wan offered promptly in the manner of a well trained diplomat. The grief was real, but only for those who had been lost, not for the Senator.

It seemed Obi-Wan didn't like the Senator either. But Tahl worried that she was not the only one to sense it. Normally Obi-Wan was much more polite. Hopefully the Council would excuse Obi-Wan's lack of tact because of the circumstances. And hopefully the Senator wasn't taking Obi-Wan's reactions to him personally. Liked or disliked, it didn't pay to get on a Senator's bad side anymore than it did one of the Council.

"His killer was Oden Kale."

Sith! Oden Kale had been a Jedi once, Padawan to Plo Koon, in fact. A Padawan who, just like Qui-Gon's before Obi-Wan, had renounced his Master and his training and turned to the Darkside.

"Who is this Kale?" Palpatine thundered. "What information can I give to the Senate investigators about him so they can find him and bring him into custody."

Tahl didn't sense that the esteemed Senator from Naboo was quite as concerned about bringing a killer to justice as he was put out by the fact that the killer had taken the lives of those who belonged to him. But his distrust of Obi-Wan was real enough, or maybe he was just another one of those who felt you weren't a Jedi until you became a Knight.

Responding to Palpatine's badgering, Obi-Wan made Tahl very, very proud.

"There is no need to continue the investigation, Senator," he addressed only the spoken concern. "Oden Kale died in the attack. It was personal, a vendetta between him and Master Koon based on a past mission to the home planet they shared. The other Jedi and your aides were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time."

There was an undertone to Obi-Wan's that rang with the Force, not in some form of manipulation or compulsion but simply with the truth, and enough that even a pompous, Force-blind Senator should recognize it. And everything Obi-Wan had said was true. Just not all he could have said. If they were lucky, Palpatine would be satisfied - at least for now - and they could avoid admitting that Oden Kale was once a Jedi. Vendetta was a common enough occurrence in a Republic that held thousands upon thousands of participating worlds. And it was quite common for the Kel Dor. Even if one had been Jedi.

If they were even luckier, the Senator wouldn't demand to know how Obi-Wan had found this information out. It had to have been from a vision. Which would be ridiculed or dismissed by the Senator, maybe even by one or two of the Councilors who didn't have a prescient bone in their body.

Actually, none of the Councilors had any real skill in prescience other than Master Yoda; it was one of the most uncommon talents a Jedi could have. Who wasn't here to support Obi-Wan simply by his presence by confirming the vision.

"Just who are you, boy?"

"He is my Padawan, Senator Palpatine."

Tahl lifted her head and turned toward Qui-Gon, though, of course, she could only see him through the Force. Shadows of grief muted the cool blues and greens she associated with him, as did a few red swirls of righteous indignation on his Padawan's behalf. Obviously he had heard - or heard - enough of the thinly disguised interrogation Senator Palpatine had directed against Obi-Wan to take offence.

"Master Jinn. Then this must be young Kenobi? He has grown to become quite remarkable under your tutelage."

Though politely spoken, Tahl sensed menace in those words. Or something akin to … envy. Jealousy? Was there some sort of history between the two men? She couldn't help but shudder a little.

Then laugh at herself for her paranoia.

Everyone in this room was on edge, haunted by grief or anger. Senator Palpatine was an outsider, was intruding on a time that should have been just for them, but he was also going about his duty as was his right and responsibility, even if he was reacting with pique and not sorrow. The Senate and the Jedi were allies, they worked hand in hand in overseeing the stability and defense of the Republic. Partisanship aside, they were all working for the same goal: peace and prosperity. Even if the Senator and Qui-Gon had crossed paths in the past, both men were professionals, representatives of the greater good, and thus, had no reason to be actively antagonizing one another.

"We will send a full report to you as well as Chancellor Valorum," Mace Windu filled the silence that fell over the room when it become obvious Qui-Gon was not going to answer the Senator. The dismissal in the Councilor's voice had to be obvious even to Palpatine.

"And as Padawan Kenobi said, we grieve with thee in the loss of two souls."

Silence fell quickly again, though long strides that could only be coming from Qui-Gon's quickly broke it, followed by a quicker step that Tahl suspected belonged to Master Adi Gallia. She was a bit surprised to be hearing Qui-Gon come her way, but then his hand replaced Master Billiba's, and she was escorted toward Obi-Wan and his friends. As they passed the Senator, Tahl hid a start and the grimace his presence invoked in her, hopefully well enough to fool him, though she knew Qui-Gon would have felt it.

Never before had she felt so glad that her blindness kept her from taking a Padawan and, therefore, any number of missions or duties for the Senate.

With a wariness normally reserved for someone truly dangerous, Qui-Gon kept an eye on Senator Palpatine as the man stalk out. There was something about the other Qui-Gon quite didn't like. Yet having spent most of his life around politicians, he had gotten past reacting personally to their maneuverings and machinations, or so he had thought. Was this something else? Or just feeling protective and insulted on Obi-Wan's behalf? Feeling guilty that he hadn't been there to protect Obi-Wan from the brunt of the Senator's displeasure from the very first?

He's a pompous ass, more interested in how the deaths of his aides will reflect on him than with their death's directly, Master.

The contact from Obi-Wan was touched with anger, but whether against the Senator for his selfishness, or against his Master for having doubts, Qui-Gon wasn't sure. And couldn't confirm as both he and Obi-Wan reflexively put up shields against each other against the rawness in the link the brief mental contact had rubbed against.

For several months now, he and Obi-Wan had practically lived in each other's skin, able to share thoughts, dreams and emotions, and even physical reactions to pleasure in a recursive loop of feedback. The sharing hadn't brought them pain before, other than when the bond initially stabilized. It would have been bad enough sharing just the mental disquiet so many other Jedi felt from the suddenness and the sheer number of deaths of their brethren that bled across lesser bonds they had with others like Mace, Tahl or Bant. But Obi-Wan had felt the full brunt of his reaction to Plo's death, while his own arm now ached in sympathy from the severe burn his Padawan had received. Even actively shielding against one another caused a discomfort of its own, would continue to do so until they could get back into synch with each other

Until Qui-Gon could get back into synch with the Force.

Adi and Depa Billipa resume their seats between the other Council members as he move to stand behind Obi-Wan, bringing Tahl with him. Tahl lifted a hand to squeeze his fingers where he still held her, then gently disengaged from his grip and moved his hand to rest against Obi-Wan's back.

An instant of tenseness in both Master and Padawan, then Obi-Wan relaxed enough to take comfort from his near presence. Another thing that wasn't fair - wasn't right. Before he and Obi-Wan had become lovers, no one would have thought anything amiss if he moved to offer his Padawan support, especially under such circumstances that had them in the Council Chamber right now. But now both Ki-Adi-Mundi and Oppo Rancisis frowned at such a public display. As did Evan Piell, though Qui-Gon suspected the Linnik warrior thought them merely weak to give in to their distress and not that Master Piell objected to their new relationship.

At least Adi and Depa Billaba offered understanding glances, as did Mace.

"Padawan Bant, Knight Tahl, we ask a boon of you on this tragic day." As much weariness as understanding showed in his expression.

"How ever I may serve the Council," Bant responded promptly, smartly, while Tahl just tipped her head and waited.

Just the suggestion of duty seemed to bring a bit more color into Bant's scales, if not yet the normal sparkle to her aura. Qui-Gon spared a warm touch for her too, in thanks for standing with Jame for Obi-Wan when he could not.

"I am concerned that the Senator has allowed his consternation over the death of his aides to undermine his normally sound judgement. By giving the appearance of escorting Knight Tahl back to her quarters Padawan Bant, the two of you can insure Senator Palpatine departs before inadvertently disturbing any of our brethren or our own assistants by asking any imprudent questions."

The smile that briefly twisted Tahl's lips told Qui-Gon that she was very aware of Mace's intent, even as she gave a short nod in acquiescence. While neither women would want to leave while their friends stayed and might need them, Qui-Gon would guess that Tahl had her own opinions of the Senator from Naboo, and would relish insuring he badgered no other Padawan. He would have to call and thank her later. And make sure that she hadn't stepped on the Senator's figurative toes too badly on his or Obi-Wan's behalf.

But no, Bant would see to that. Marked early for training as a healer, the young Mon Catamaran had instead been apprenticed to a Master who specialized in politics and diplomacy. As she and her Master currently operated as the Order's liaison to the Senate, Bant would make sure the Senator left feeling as if his interests were being best served, while instead she would insure no censure being leveled against Tahl.

The two women bowed and followed Palpatine's path out the door. Which left Qui-Gon with Obi-Wan and Jame in the center of the room. Qui-Gon understood the psychological reasoning behind such positioning of the Council, keeping their petitioners standing and surrounded while they sat in comfort, keeping those in the center of the room penitent while they sat in judgement. And it had always disappointed him to think that Jedi needed such props of domination against members of their own Order.

"Now, Padawan Kenobi, you have something more to say to us?"

The words, even Mace's tone were proper, as a senior member of the Council to a Padawan despite his relationship with said Padawan and Master. But Qui-Gon also saw a further softening in Mace's features and made an effort not to take umbrage on Obi-Wan's behalf. This wasn't a trial or inquisition despite the contrary looks on a few faces. He was simply overreacting, still too affected by Plo's death and by such reactions causing Obi-Wan mental and physical harm. The only one putting them on trial here was himself.

"How came you by your knowledge of Master Koon's death?" Ki-Adi-Mundi asked in something akin to a sneer.

Qui-Gon beat down a flush and a snarl of anger. Here was the accusation, as if Obi-Wan might have had something to do with the attack, or should have somehow prevented it. And he was not the only one to interpret it thusly, for Jame took a step closer to his Padawan and only stopped herself at the last moment from taking Obi-Wan's hand.

"I had a vision, Masters."

"A true vision?" Yarael Poof questioned. As if it couldn't be true if he hadn't had one himself. The Quermian was reputed to have mental skills on the par with Master Yoda, yet Qui-Gon knew prescience wasn't one of them. And that was something that had always bothered the spindle-necked Jedi.

Although he normally took care they did not appear as anything other than Master and Padawan in public, Qui-Gon had had quite enough of the accusations against Obi-Wan. He stepped even closer to his Padawan and encircled him within his arms, holding him so that Obi-Wan could press back into Qui-Gon's chest. Being nearly a head taller than his Padawan, Qui-Gon could easily lift his chin in a challenge no one else in the room would misinterpret.

And no one called him on.

"I believe so."

"But you are just a Padawan, one who is not even fit for duty at the moment," this from Sasee Tiin, whose harsh manner was natural and not indicative of his feelings in this matter. Sasee had been a close friend of Plo's too.

"Master Yoda has enough faith in Obi-Wan's visions to be training him," Qui-Gon still snarled. "We may not be cleared for field duty, but we are still Jedi, still in tune with the Force."

"Yet without Master Yoda's presence, we cannot verify the vision," Evan Piell objected, not at all intimidated by Qui-Gon's bristling.

"I can name you each of the Jedi who were killed with Master Koon."

Either because he was tired, or hurt, or maybe just because he knew him so well even with shields still set between them, Qui-Gon could hear more than a little bit of frustration now underlying Obi-Wan's voice. Even his Padawan had a breaking point. Especially when drawing this discussion out was keeping them from being able to be alone.

"That is not necessary," Master Yaddle said from her seat opposite of where Master Koon should have been sitting. "As Master Jinn has reminded us, Master Yoda has put his time and trust in this Padawan's visions. That should be enough for us."

"I am not disagreeing that the Padawan thinks he has seen the truth," Ki-Adi-Mundi argued. "Just whether the vision was born from hysterics or -"

"Without verification from another Jedi, there is only one way for you to be sure," Obi-Wan, in great daring, interrupted the Councilor. And forestall what Qui-Gon would have said.

The Cerean's brow disappeared into the wrinkles of skin that housed his binary brains, but he kept his silence at a raised hand from Mace.

"You are willing to open your mind to us?" Mace kept his gaze solely on Obi-Wan, ignoring Qui-Gon when he would have signaled his objection.

Of course Mace knew Qui-Gon objected. If Obi-Wan couldn't open up his mind to his bondmate without experiencing great pain, doing so before the collective Council would be unbearable. Even under normal circumstances such a communion had its own difficulties, for few minds were truly compatible, and all who would be involved had significant mental strengths which would vie for dominance.

"Obi-Wan -"

But Obi-Wan stepped away from Qui-Gon, not only out from his arms and cloak, but far enough that they were no longer touching at all. Qui-Gon felt curiously bereft, then even worse with Obi-Wan's next words.

"I will, but not with my Master present."

Obi-Wan! The pain in his head as he battered past Obi-Wan's shields was nothing compared to that in Qui-Gon's heart. How could Obi-Wan exclude him? Why would --

It is bad enough that you will know what happened from my memories. I will not let you hold them as if they are your own, Master! And the shields snapped back up, tighter than they had been even when they were simply Padawan and Master.

"Padawan, I do not think -" But then Mace's face drained of color and he began to nod.

No! Obi-Wan - or more the pain between them -- might be able to temporarily keep him out, but their bond was not the only one Qui-Gon had. And Mace had figured out what was going inside Obi-Wan's head.

More ruthless, perhaps that he would have at another time, Qui-Gon threw his consciousness down the link he and Mace had established and let languish years ago. While maybe at only half the strength it had been in the old days, the bond was still enough for Qui-Gon to bridge, and to find what he sought before Mace raised his own shields between them.

He ignored the dark look Mace shot him, the despair that swept through Obi-Wan, and began sorting through what he had gotten. The name of Plo Koon's murderer.

Oh, Obi-Wan.

"Mace, I am staying or Obi-Wan is leaving with me." But Qui-Gon said it quietly, without any of the challenge that had fueled his actions since entering the room. He sent a pulse of apology along with his words to Mace then moved toward Obi-Wan.

For once the rest of the Council let them be, recognizing that something more was happening here than just what they felt concerned them, or at least a few of them had figured it out about the time Qui-Gon had. Qui-Gon didn't care why, wouldn't have paid attention even if Mundi began to object.

Plo Koon had been killed by Oden Kane. Plo's Padawan - former Padawan. One who had fallen and been banished by the Order. Just like Xanatos.

"I am staying, Padawan," he repeated, his voice even softer. He then gathered Obi-Wan back into his arms, back under his cloak, but this time turning his Padawan so that they faced each other. So that he could tuck Obi-Wan under his chin and hold him close. "The shadow of Xanatos around my heart was burned away long ago by your light, my Obi-Wan," he murmured into his beloved's hair. "I honor your concern on my behalf, but the only way he can hurt me now is if you allow him to keep us apart." And he lifted his hand to Obi-Wan's chin, seeking visual reassurance that Obi-Wan understood. And believed. It was funny, for all that their bond of Fusion was new, Qui-Gon had already grown to rely on the complete closeness it allowed between them.

At least Obi-Wan's eyes held only a hint of gray despair amidst swirls of the blues and greens of heightened emotions. They held a world a pain too, his own, Qui-Gon's, even for Plo. Empathy and prescience, a heart-rending combination unless Obi-wan held himself apart from what he saw. But he couldn't, not this time in needing to relive the vision, just as he couldn't help but know what the reading would awaken in Qui-Gon.

"Your Master is correct, Padawan," Depa Billaba informed them in her gentle manner. She sounded apologetic for her words, and for interrupting. "We will have to invoke full shielding around this room before allowing you to release your vision to us. Should your Master be on the other side of those shields would cause you significant stress, perhaps enough to keep you from being able to actively participate. We would not want to have to force your mind."

Qui-Gon wasn't sure a couple of the other Councilors might not disagree to that final statement. Several had already expressed quite an interested in their new mental capabilities since the bond and would no doubt be happy to set up stressful situations just to try and understand what occurred between them. A bond of Fusion was quite rare; there was no other one currently, and hadn't been another for several hundred years. At least one of the Councilors would be looking for ways to exploit the pairing on the Order's behalf, even if it wouldn't be on Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon's.

A visible shiver passed through Obi-Wan's frame before he turned around and gave a scant nod, then again left the shelter of Qui-Gon's arms. Moving back to direct center of the room, he lowered himself to one knee on the red marble inlaid therein, resting his injured arm on the knee upraised, then bowed his head.

At a nod from Mace, Adi Gallia stepped down from her chair. Normally something like this was directed by Eeth Koth or Master Yoda. If both of the Councilor's most skilled in mental communion were unavailable, Yarael Poof or Mace were the next with the best skills to forge and control the required temporary links. But, much to Qui-Gon's surprise and gratitude, Yarael didn't even make the suggestion. Mace would still be needed in his role as neutral arbitrator, given the ragged emotions prevalent in the others, leaving Adi Gallia as the only other Councilor whose mental presence would be less likely to interact badly with his and Obi-Wan's bond. And her impartiality managed to stay unquestioned by even the most conservative of the other Councilors, despite her close relationship with Mace and, therefore, to a lesser extent to Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan.

"Jame, will you act as my anchor?" the Councilor from Corellia asked, much to the young pilot's surprise.

Jame looked to Mace first for guidance, then toward Qui-Gon for permission. Qui-Gon nodded.

"I would be honored, Master Gallia."

Although Jame had never had enough control of the Force to link to another on her own, from past travels with her, Qui-Gon knew that lack of training would work well for them. For although sensitive enough to truth read another, and to pick up on the occasional feelings, Jame was grounded in the reality of her five senses, not the infinite variations of the Force. A perfect anchor, as she couldn't possibly be caught up in what was going to unfold.

"Knight Mundi, would you stand for us?" Qui-Gon asked. He ignored Mundi's startled look and Mace's speculative one. Again choosing the Cerelian made a great deal of sense. Although it would be Obi-Wan's mind the link needed be forged with, Qui-Gon couldn't help but be present in the link also. And by their melding, the possibility of either of them getting lost within the pathways of another's mind in an involuntary reaction to outsiders pressing on their bond increased dramatically. Another, very strong, very pragmatic anchor would be necessary. By choosing one of the ones they were at odds with, Qui-Gon not only insured a solid if prickly focus, but in so serving, Ki-Adi-Mundi could not take advantage of his link with Master Gallia -- as he had with all of those on the Council - and push the meld into other memories he might more want to explore.

Nor could Mundi refuse, not without looking even more like an ass than he had already made of himself with badgering Obi-Wan only slightly less than Senator Palpatine had done. And if there was one thing Ki-Adi-Mundi had in spades outside of his arrogance of thinking he was always right, it was his pride to protect him from looking foolish.

The Knight merely inclined his oversized head and also rose from his seat. Qui-Gon move behind Obi-Wan, close enough that Obi-Wan could rest his back against his legs, while Qui-Gon made move to rest both palms on Obi-Wan's shoulder, but pulled back the one that would have put his fingers too close to Obi-Wan's plasma burn.

Jame took up a position behind and slightly to Master Gallia's left side, the heart side. Ki-Adi-Mundi matched her in opposition. As she took the final steps to bring her in front of the kneeling Obi-Wan, the Corellian Councilor carefully leaned forward and lowered both of her hands to the sides of Obi-Wan's head. Qui-Gon then used his free hand to cup the women's elbow, strengthening the connection as well as offering his own strength to keep her standing.

As anchor it was Jame and Mundi's jobs not to get involved in the reading but, of course, Qui-Gon couldn't help it. While they stayed focused on their surroundings, on the tangible world, Qui-Gon opened himself up to Obi-Wan and the Force. Pain came first, from the psychic feedback they were already trying to deal with, and from the worry both felt for the other. But Adi's mind swept into their bond, not exactly soothing, but not as intrusive as Qui-Gon had expected either. And she was able to help Obi-Wan reach the detachment he would need to proceed.

Qui-Gon tried to make his own presence negligible, more of an echo to Obi-Wan's and a conduit different to Adi's anchoring. He let the Force fill him, let it be drawn through him as Obi-Wan reached for and focused on the memory. For a moment they both faltered when one of the Councilors strove to merge past the barrier Adi was weaving around the pair, but then Mace was there, merging his own spirit with Adi and Qui-Gon through duel links and helping keep the others at bay.

No one spoke, but suddenly there sounds filled Qui-Gon's mind, words and the noises one always heard when venturing out amongst the city planet that was Coruscant. Although Obi-Wan strove to keep Qui-Gon removed as he was Mace and Adi, just as they in turn kept the others on the Council yet another step away, Qui-Gon heard the sudden screams as if he was there.

No stranger to the specter of death for having lived so long on a world where one slip of his mask would mean painful asphyxiation, for having lived, trained and fought as a Jedi amongst hundreds of worlds and wars for nearly a hundred years, Plo Koon still found himself unprepared for death's reality. And unprepared for the sublime irony of dying mere minutes from where he made his home while returning from the exercise in boredom known as a Senate Review.

To be a Kel Dor and not die with his weapon in his hand was sacrilegious. To be a Jedi and not die defending another was disappointing. To be a teacher and die at the hands of a once beloved student was tragic. Plo Koon was Kel Dor, Jedi and a teacher, and so could not just resign himself without making some effort.

Oh, he could pull his blade, could even throw himself in front of one of the others he stood with, but neither gesture would make a spit of difference in the outcome. Even with the final seconds counting down on the timer strapped to the explosives around Oden's waist, the Master Jedi focused only on the anger, hatred and pain that flashed in Oden's frantic eyes. On the madness also contained within.

Oden, you need not do this. A plea, a compulsion, a fervent wish not just to save his life and those he'd been traveling with, but Plo could also only feel despair to see Oden throw his own life away still surrounded by Darkness. Let me help you.

Plo stepped forward but there was no time to force the long dormant link further, no time to insure it was only Oden and he who died. He could only reach out one hand to Oden while he flung his other wide to start a Force shield. The other Jedi stood with him, freely giving their own energy to his weaving, sacrificing any chance of their own survivals in order to help contain the blast from bringing down this portion of the Senate building.

Eight -- There

Seven -- is

Six -- no

Five -- death

Four -- there

Three -- is

Two --the

One - Force --

Obi-Wan gave a low wrung cry and collapsed.

"Did someone else get that?" Yarael Poof asked the same time, his head bobbing on his greatly extended neck in agitation. As one the Councilors were moving to Qui-Gon and Adi who knelt by an insensate Obi-Wan, Depa Billaba removing her robe and wrapping it around Jame, while Evan Piell moved to Ki-Adi-Mundi's side and was helping the Knight steady himself.

"Yes. Perpetrator though Oden Kale was, and darkness enough he held to kill his former Master, another there was," Master Yaddle answered the Quermian. "Another shadow I sensed, overlaying the fallen one."

"As did Plo Koon," Qui-Gon said hoarsely from where he cradled Obi-Wan to his chest. "He grieved that Oden thought so little of himself to be able to commit suicide in order to kill his Master, and died learning that the attack hadn't been his Padawan's idea. It was a warning the Force helped him give us, holding on for those few moments after death to reach out to Obi-Wan when he couldn't find Master Yoda."

"A great deal to ask of a Padawan," Sasee Tiin commented gruffly. "A worthy Padawan who could handle it."

Mace nodded as he helped Adi rise after assuring himself that she was no worse for her part in the communion than the headache all the Councilors shared. He then knelt down where she had been. "Let me take him, Qui-Gon."

Qui-Gon wearily lifted his head and simply blinked, unable to process the words until Mace started to pull Obi-Wan out of his grasp. "No!"

"Yes," Oppo Rancisis said, taking hold of Qui-Gon's to keep him from fighting Mace. "You two need the Healers," he said briskly as he lifted Qui-Gon into a standing position as if the Jedi Master was no bigger than his Padawan.

Again Qui-Gon blinked stupidly, this time not so much unable to understand the words, but the motivation and emotions behind them. The former monarch of Thisspias had long been one of the Councilors most aggravated with Qui-Gon in general, and by Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan's relationship more specifically. His solicitude now was most unexpected but, as best as Qui-Gon could tell through an admittedly shaky Force sense, quite sincere. Even Ki-Adi-Mundi and Evan Piell's eyes were saddened, it seemed, for what obtaining this knowledge had cost.

For one moment, at least, the Council stood together and supportive of their brethren in the face of some phantom that might threaten them all.

Every medical facility has a quality that is instantly recognizable, whether on a low tech world or one with the latest practices, equipment and medicines, and whether the facility is a hospital, hospice, bay on a ship or a thatched hovel with a dirt floor. In part it was the smells of bacta, blood, disinfectants, metal and linen. Part too were the emotions, from the harried focus of the doctors and the despair or desperate hope of those who waited without, to the confusion or pain of the patients, and the soothing patience of the nurses.

Obi-Wan had become somewhat of a conusor of medical facilities over his years as Padawan to the Order's most successful and sought after field operative, and never more so than in the last two years, experiencing them in both sides of the equation. Yet it still surprised him that awakening in the Healers Hall of the Jedi was no different than awakening anywhere else, other than even the doctors tried to be soothing, the pain and confusion was mitigated by cocooning each patient within an environment that blocked out every other patient, and those who waited usually refused to wait without.

Somehow, although he knew better than most, a part of his brain still insisted that the Force should be able to replace the equipment, medicine and treatments. This insistence came out of an early gained misconception that adult Jedi didn't need healers, that no one would ever be strong or lucky enough to hurt or kill a Jedi. As he had grown older, thoughts of immortality had turned to misplaced ego and pride; a proper Jedi shouldn't need a healer, and that every time he did, he had failed. Even worse had been the times when it was Qui-Gon who ended up needing aid, not because Obi-Wan thought his Master invincible or somehow weak and a failure, for somehow that too ended up being Obi-Wan's fault, for not properly caring for his Master.

He had outgrown most of these wrong notions, though some had taken much more meditation and out and out badgering by his Master. But Obi-Wan still had an initial moment of consternation every time he awoke to the smells and sounds of a medical environment. A moment always followed by another full of relief that it was him in this position and not Qui-Gon.

Of course, this time that relief was once more chased by guilt, especially when Obi-Wan turned his head to see just how awful and uncomfortable Qui-Gon looked.

His Master had never fit well into the chair set at Obi-Wan's bedside; the pair of them being larger and smaller than the average human respectively had meant Obi-Wan's convelesing had always taken place in rooms set up for the smaller species so that those needing larger quarters would never be without. This time was no exception, and while in times previous Qui-Gon or someone else had occasionally conscripted a non-standard chair for his Master's use, such had not been done tonight. At least not before Qui-Gon had fallen into sleep - no, a healing trance of his own.

Though loathed to wake him when it was so visible obvious he needed to rest and recover, Obi-Wan had learned over the years that an achy Qui-Gon was a cranky Qui-Gon and, even more so, that his Master cared for his own well being no less than Obi-Wan cared for Qui-Gon's. If Qui-Gon had the luxury or inclination to stay at Obi-Wan's bedside, he expected to be awoken those few times he didn't quite have the stamina.

"Qui-Gon?" he called out softly, his throat dry from disuse and a little sore maybe from misuse. He didn't exactly remember screaming while the others had played around in his mind, but he remembered wanting to.

When that got no response, Obi-Wan had debated using their link to awaken Qui-Gon. Since bonding in Fusion, telepathy had become almost second nature between them. But while Obi-Wan's head did not ache at the moment, he had little confidence that would remain the case, given how the two of them had needed to shield from each other's presence ever since Master Koon's death. Any psychic injury or damage from that could have only been exacerbated by sharing the ordeal with the Council.

But at least it wasn't full blown psychic shock. Twice in two years was quite enough.

"Master!" Not all that much louder, but then Obi-Wan didn't need to speak up with that word. Their many years together had layered a wealth of meaning in that word, and demanded a response just as conditioned as Obi-Wan's to Qui-Gon calling him Padawan. Becoming lovers hadn't changed it; neither would his achieving Knighthood.

And sure enough, Qui-Gon jerked awake, his own moment of disorientation passing swifter even than Obi-Wan's had, as Qui-Gon had known he was in Healers Hall before succumbing to his exhaustion. He was up out of his chair and leaning over Obi-Wan almost before Obi-Wan could blink.

"How are you feeling?" Qui-Gon breathed the words against Obi-Wan's mouth before brushing their lips together in a gentle kiss. He then helped Obi-Wan raise up a take small sips of the glass of ice chips set by his beside

"Better than you if I had to guess," came Obi-Wan's clearer response as he leaned into the fingers that brushed around his hairline as he lay back down, then down his temples and across his cheeks. He had to close his eyes, overwhelmed by both the physical feelings sensitizing his nerves and from the level of tenderness and love in Qui-Gon's eyes.

Something was … off here. Not Qui-Gon's love - not even that much expression of Qui-Gon's love. But he was definitely being treated like he had been the one most hurt here when it had been Qui-Gon's friend who had died, Qui-Gon who had felt it, then had to experience his Padawan's stupid fall because of his inability to deal with the Force disturbance the death had caused. Certainly a burn and a headache from being separated by the security shield around the Council Chamber didn't warrant taking precedence over Qui-Gon's grief. And they had shared the damn invasion by the Council afterward, so -

"It's been two days since then, Obi-Wan. You -- at the end, when Plo died, there was something else in his mind that the Council … needed and so they kept you at that point until it could be deciphered."

If Obi-Wan's throat hadn't already been dry from two days of only intravenous fluids - "Was it important?" was all he said though, somehow managing not only to open his eyes again, but to not turn away even though that meant letting Qui-Gon see his anger. And fear.

It helped to see the fear mirrored in his Master's eyes. And even more so did Qui-Gon's nod help. His Master and the Council had been at odds long enough that Obi-Wan had developed his own share of disdain for some of their actions, though mostly on Qui-Gon's behalf. Yet for all of that disdain and the times proven it was deserved, Obi-Wan still didn't want to believe that the Order's supposed best were too often motivated by fragile egos or political expediency just like so many others in power.

"Plo discovered Oden hadn't worked alone."

The touches were no longer enough. Obi-Wan lifted his eyes, and then the bed covers, shifting in the bed so that Qui-Gon might at least sit. And breathed a sigh of relief when not only did Qui-Gon acquiesce, but also pulled Obi-Wan up onto his lap and shifted them both to rest against the wall and the headboard. Obi-Wan tucked himself against Qui-Gon's shoulder.

"Was Plo the only target?"

For a moment the circular strokes that Qui-Gon rubbed across his back stopped and he could feel Qui-Gon thinking about the question.

"I'm not sure," came Qui-Gon's response, just before he started up again. "I'm not sure the Council had gotten past thinking the attack personal against them as a body. Until you uncovered this shadow compulsion overlaying Oden's quite personal animosity, I know they were thinking it to be vendetta for all that both were once Jedi. Do you think on of the other Jedi was the real target?"

Obi-Wan shrugged. "If someone used Oden, no doubt they wanted Plo dead. But I am also wondering about the two Senatorial aides. Timed a few seconds either way, those two would not have been close enough to be caught up in the blast." He burrowed a little closer to Qui-Gon, the simple touch of his lover offering more healing than any trance could.

"I may also just be letting my personal dislike for their boss encourage thoughts of conspiracies," he continued with a tired laugh. "I mean, if someone had it in for Senator Palpatine, I would think they would have waited until they could kill him directly, instead of just inconvenience him."

Qui-Gon's arms tightened around him. "You're probably right. But we should bring it up to Mace. The Council isn't about to assign us to the investigation, but Mace will make sure theories are examined, no matter how farfetched or inspired."

"S'funny, I had a feeling, there at the end, that the Council wasn't quite as pissed off at us as they normally are."

Qui-Gon's lips ghosted down the back of Obi-Wan's bent head and rested against his neck before offering it more attention than simply being breathed upon. They aren't, came the tentative contact, and the both of them let go of a bit of the tension that had still been gripping their bodies when the mindtouch brought only pleasure and no pain. But we're still on medical leave because someone made a altruistic yet reckless gesture.

That turned out to be necessary! Obi-Wan protested.

And Qui-Gon nodded, pressing his lips harder. Which almost makes it worse, he shrugged and Obi-Wan could feel him smile against his neck before his Master's lips parted and he could then feel teeth. And tongue.

Anyway, Mace is concerned about what Master Yoda might say if he pushes us back once again into something too soon.

Obi-Wan muffled his laughter against Qui-Gon's chest though he was having trouble coordinating anything other than his responses to Qui-Gon's touch. Why Master Windu should feel anymore concern now than the last several times they'd been asked to take on a mission made little sense when Master Yoda had been there all along to object or argue.

Maybe it's because Master Yoda is away that Mace is second guessing his decisions, Qui-Gon's rumbling laughter echoed back. But I don't care about Mace, the investigation or even Master Yoda right now, Padawan, he continued more soberly. Only you.

I am fine, Qui-Gon. And I would like to go home. Not just because he strongly disliked the feel and scents of a medical facility. If Qui-Gon continued much longer, they were going to need to override the controls at the door and force it to lock.

"Are you sure?" and Qui-Gon lifted his head before tipping Obi-Wan's own back so that they could look into each other's eyes as well as feel each other's thoughts.

Obi-Wan licked his lips and nodded. "You will be able to sleep better, and so will I -"

His words were stopped by a kiss.

Yes, it does matter, Obi-Wan persisted mentally as Qui-Gon proceeded to take his breath away along with his ability to stay upright save for his Master's embrace. But the distraction did take away his purpose, or his residual feeling of guilt for what Qui-Gon had been forced to endure. If you've been here for two days …

"Mace, Jame, Tahl and Bant have been here too," Qui-Gon admitted upon breaking their kiss. "They gave me a chance to see to other things." He sounded apologetic for needing to do other things, though Obi-Wan could only be glad that his Master had not stayed in that tiny chair for forty-eight hours straight. Even if he had an idea of some of the things that needed Qui-Gon's attention.

Qui-Gon nodded, easily reading his thoughts as he rose from the bed and then helped Obi-Wan up. "I was one of the speakers for Plo's remembrance and helped Mace go through his things."

Obi-Wan stopped in shrugging on his inner tunic and turned toward Qui-Gon. "I'm sorry I wasn't there to help."

"You were," and Qui-Gon stepped forward to finish drawing the cloth to Obi-Wan's shoulders, but he ran his fingers over the line of tight skin of the healing burn first. "Although I wouldn't care for a repeat of the need to worry, I did find myself more thinking about you than dwelling on Plo's death."

Obi-Wan rolled his shoulders and then his neck. He was surprisingly awake for being in a healing trance for two days, and not as stiff as he should have been. Which led him to believe Qui-Gon hadn't been away from his side nearly as often as he had implied. Exhaustion not only from poor sleeping due to concern and that awful chair, but also because Qui-Gon had been using his own energy to supplement Obi-Wan's.

Well, he was more than ready to offer a little of that back. He tucked his arm around Qui-Gon's waist and let his Master lead them back to their suite. Once there, it was obvious at least one of their friends had been there to care for things while they were in the Healers Hall. The rich aroma of recent baking wafted from the kitchen and Obi-Wan's stomach growled.

"Well it has been a couple of days since I've eaten."

"That it has. While you check the kitchen out, I'll prepare a bath."

Obi-Wan couldn't help but shiver at that. So often they were forced by time or circumstance to use sonics in cleaning - when they even had that luxury. Being able to bath with water, especially in that swimming pool Qui-Gon called a bathtub had been one of the best things about becoming his Master's Padawan. And it had only gotten better since they had become lovers.

Obi-Wan nodded but didn't let go of his hold. Not because he thought something might happen -- Qui-Gon was no where near as drunk as Master Windu had been - still Obi-Wan loathed to leave him alone in the 'fresher, or anywhere else. Such a feeling wasn't because of their bond of Fusion, though through it Obi-Wan wanted nothing more than to ease his Master's pain. He would have felt the same whether they had bonded or not, whether they had become lovers or not. Part was out of duty as a Padawan. Most was out of love for this man who had ever been father, teacher, brother.

In addition to the fresh bread and little pastries cooling on the counter, a thermos of what smelled like fresh caffe also awaited him in the kitchen. He prepared a simple plate and poured a cup; he and Qui-Gon could share. Then headed for the tiled room between what had only weeks ago been their separate bedrooms. At his approach Qui-Gon used the Force to extinguish the lights, then brought life to the scattering of candles that quickly filled the room not only with a warmer glow, but filled it with a faint scent of smoky sandalwood, cinnamon and vanilla.

These candles were gifts from Tahl, waxes she had blended herself to produce not only light but flickering color, and soothing scents of home. Long ago when she had first begun producing the fragrant candles, Obi-Wan had wondered if her blindness had made her so skilled matching scents to moods, or whether he simply appreciated them more by knowing their importance to her.

By the time the two of them finished stripping off their clothes the water lapped near the top of the sunken bath. Nibbling on a bit of the fruit he had added to the baked goods, Obi-Wan followed as Qui-Gon stepped down into the deep water, then moved to one end while the larger man carefully positioned himself to where the water came up to only his sternum instead of one of the lower steps were it'd come to his chin. Obi-Wan smiled and slid around to be next to him, pressing the cup of caffe firmly into both of Qui-Gon's hands and fed him with his own fingers before reaching for one of the flannels and the bar of soap.

Taking turns they washed each other, staying impersonal so as not to over stimulate. Yet. Replacing the cloths with fingers, they followed the contours of each other's body again, keeping the touch therapeutic to loosen the stiff muscles and tensions acquired from two days of inactivity. Such tasks they often performed for each other, though only recently with desire allowed to grow between them.

Finally Obi-Wan shifted to his knees behind his Master where he lost himself in the pleasure of taking away more tension by running his fingers through Qui-Gon's silvering hair. This communion soothed them both, a frozen moment in time where nothing else impinged on their attentions, and Obi-Wan spent as long there as he had washing the rest of Qui-Gon's body. Finally Qui-Gon leaned far enough back that they could exchange a kiss that was still more tender than lustful, before he slide further down and away. He submerge himself for a couple of minutes, floating as a dead man on the bottom, detached from everything, even breathing.

Obi-Wan rested his arms outside the basin's edge, leaning back and closing his eyes to achieve a little of his own detachment. Lulled by the water that rippled against his chest from his and Qui-Gon's languid movements, from the faint flickering of light against his closed eyelids and the subtle scents not only now of the candles, but the spicier oil he'd sprinkled into the water and the headier subtleties of his Master, Obi-Wan dropped into a state of light meditation. In the back of his brain he registered when Qui-Gon rose above the water line to take a breath, and when his Master lowered himself again. But turned no more attention to his partner than the connection always active between them that would give warning should Qui-Gon need him.

Even the first soft touches against his genitals didn't rouse him. Although the bath was large enough for the two of them to soak comfortably together, brushes against one another were inevitable when one or both of them moved. It could even have been the soap bobbing against him. Or the cloth tumbling amidst the ripples released from the movements of their floating bodies. But when the touch came again, this time a bit more persistent, then followed by an unmistakable warmth and pressure wrapping around his cock, Obi-Wan's eyes sprang open. He didn't move - couldn't move - until Qui-Gon began easing them both up out of the water, pushing Obi-Wan back along the tiles already made slick from the oiled water dripping from his arms, shoulders and head.

True to his training, even surprised so badly by the feel of Qui-Gon's mouth wrapping around him, Obi-Wan didn't make any abrupt movements that might have caused either of them injury. He allowed himself to be lifted, to be suckled, though his surprise flashed through their link again when Qui-Gon didn't push him all of the way out. Or follow him any more than necessary to keep mouth wrapped around Obi-Wan's swiftly hardening penis. By keeping him perched on the edge of the sunken tub, legs spread but still dangling in the water, Obi-Wan needed to prop himself up again on his elbows in order not to have his hips cant upward too awkwardly.

Which meant that Obi-Wan couldn't reach out to touch Qui-Gon as was his wont, which was fine for Qui-Gon. Obi-Wan was still too concerned in taking care of his Master when it had been Obi-Wan even worse affected by the aftermath of Plo's death. Finally Qui-Gon could take care of his Padawan. And lover.

Indulging himself, Qui-Gon took his time spreading the lightly oiled water around and into Obi-Wan's skin with his tongue, mapping the dips and plans that he had had a hand in shaping. Although he could never completely divorce himself from being Jedi and Obi-Wan's Master, to be able to worship the body instead of critique it was something Qui-Gon knew he would never tire of. To watch skin pinked and wrinkled by the heat of the bath water rapidly flush with deeper tones. Or the way Obi-Wan's muscle definition offered different emphasis when he arched and stretched in response to Qui-Gon's attentions returning to his penis. Obi-Wan's eyes opened halfway, indigo desire fanning the flames of Qui-Gon's own.

He slowly lifted his head away from Obi-Wan's now rampant erection, scrapping lightly with his teeth. That got a moan out of Obi-Wan, as did Qui-Gon blowing across the crown. The room wasn't cold, but the water was nearer the temperature of the interior of Qui-Gon's mouth, and the contrast was enough to start Obi-Wan shivering.

Obi-Wan's moan turned into a wordless plea when Qui-Gon didn't immediately return to the glistening shaft. Involuntarily he spread his legs wider and tried to thrust where Qui-Gon hovered stationary above him though he had no leverage against the slick side of the tub. Then, before his need broke completely through the sensations of pleasure Qui-Gon had been inducing, the Jedi Master lowered himself again and planted the softest of kisses against the tip of Obi-Wan's cock, nuzzling it, nibbling before licking the first of the liquid evidence of Obi-Wan's arousal.

Qui-Gon next rolled his tongue to slip it into the pulsing slit and seek out more of his Padawan's pre-ejaculate, then pulled back again so that just his lips covered the top of the crown. Again he exhaled, but by keeping their connection, the air burned across and down that flared opening instead of cooling it. This produced an even deeper shudder in Obi-Wan which turned into a wild squirming upon a full repetition from kiss to breath. Wrapping his tongue around the underside of the corona to keep tight contact, Qui-Gon shifted his head to nuzzle the inside of Obi-Wan's thighs with his bearded chin.

"Q-qui -"

Obi-Wan managed to flatten his feet against the side of the tub and support his weight there and on his shoulders, with his arms spread against the floor tiles as if he needed to hold on. Or could. This also caused his knees to widen to their fullest and his hips to rise. Which Qui-Gon took advantage of by quickly pulling from Obi-Wan's cock so that he might tongue the tightening scrotum dry of any excess moisture not placed there by himself.

Again Qui-Gon used his beard to tickle, this time rubbing his chin back and forth across Obi-Wan's perineum before soothing it with his tongue. From there he followed the sweet trail of beaded water to Obi-Wan's crease and that fluttering opening, and again he offered first a kiss, then a nuzzle, a nibble and a probing tongue before breathing his life into Obi-Wan.

An abortive shout quickly turned to incoherent whimpers as Qui-Gon repeated his actions over and over again, eventually able to thrust a good quarter of his tongue between the outer ring. He encouraged Obi-Wan to shift his legs up over Qui-Gon's shoulders and down his back so Obi-Wan might keep the position too many sensations were making precarious. Staying on his knees in the water, Qui-Gon could now use his hands to augment his lips and tongue, and so replaced his kisses with caresses across Obi-Wan's ass and thighs to resume his assault on Obi-Wan's cock.

Obi-Wan was ready, was beyond ready. By adding suction Qui-Gon brought Obi-Wan to the brink twice more before backing off, started on a third, but then Obi-Wan lowered all of his shields and swamped Qui-Gon's feelings with his own. In the next instant they were both coming, Obi-Wan into Qui-Gon's mouth, Qui-Gon into the water, and joined in so many ways other than just lips and cock and fingers and ass. This wasn't the complete merging they had experienced only twice before, but was a wonder all its own.

"You realize that if we could bottle our passion, we would make a fortune," Obi-Wan finally gasped out with a tired, yet thoroughly besotted smile as he tried to raise himself back up onto his elbows.

"I could never share you, my Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon let his harsh breaths fall back across Obi-Wan's groin as he supported himself on his own shaky arms, his head hanging down. "Not for all of the money in the Republic."

"But think of all the f-fun we would have producing the emotions to be bottled." A laugh and a gasp, and Obi-Wan's body began quivering between renewed arousal and ticklishness from the feel of Qui-Gon's beard.

"We can do that anyway and not have to worry about filing any taxes."

Ticklishness and his sense of the absurd won out, and Qui-Gon laid his head down with his cheek pressed against Obi-Wan's thigh to savor Obi-Wan's helpless laughter. Eventually they both brought their bodies back under control, but Qui-Gon was loathed to let go the mood they'd managed to achieve. Without warning he tightened his hold around Obi-Wan's hips and pulled, making sure he tugged hard enough to insure Obi-Wan would not hit his head against the side of the pool sized tub. He didn't prevent the dunking, however, only wrapping his arms around his Padawan as he came up sputtering.

When he leaned forward for a kiss, Qui-Gon found out Obi-Wan hadn't spit out all of the water he had swallowed, and so he dunked Obi-Wan again, then let himself be rolled under when Obi-Wan came back up for air by climbing his Master's body. They played for a bit longer, keeping so close in contact that one or the other was almost always trying to breathe water between their frolicking and their laughter.

Soon enough their efforts turned from trying to overpower one another to trying to arouse one another, but not before they had splashed out almost a third of the water across the floor and even out to one of the walls. Both of their sets of clothes were sodden and the half filled plate of food. Even the cup of caffe had tumbled under one of the waves to spill the remainder of the liquid to darken one of the pools of water. And a couple of the splashes had put out a few of the candles, turning the room darker and smokier. Much like Obi-Wan's eyes.

Both were once more erect when Qui-Gon lifted them from the pool. A couple of the towels had escaped their enthusiasm, and Obi-Wan called them quickly to hand, again insisting on caring first for his Master before toweling himself dry, then dropping them to soak up some of the spill. When Obi-Wan bent over to pick up the caffe cup, Qui-Gon saw that he had missed a spot, and lowered himself to his knees that he might be able to lick away the water dampening the small of his Padawan's back, just above the swell of curves.

With both hands on Obi-Wan's hips, Qui-Gon then pulled his unresisting Padawan lower, setting him in his lap and using his knees to spread Obi-Wan's legs to either side while he supported Obi-Wan's weight on his thighs. This left his erection nestled against Obi-Wan's cleft, where he was content to leave it. When he cupped one hand around Obi-Wan's exposed erection and used his other to trace between Obi-Wan's nipples, Obi-Wan melted back against his chest.

"Oh, look," Obi-Wan breathed softly.

Intent on touching all of the parts of Obi-Wan's body he had neglected in their first bout of lovemaking, Qui-Gon lifted with some reluctance from the mark he was making on Obi-Wan's neck. But then his own breath caught. Unknowingly he had positioned them before the mirror running full length from floor to ceiling. Even it had been splashed by water, but that only enhanced the image of the two of them caught in watercolor and candlelight. Through the mirror he met Obi-Wan's eyes, could see all of the love presented for him alone, and could see his own gaze of awe to be given such a precious gift.

Qui-Gon let all of his feelings pour into his eyes. His gratitude that Master Yoda had proven wiser in bringing them together all those years ago and his amazement that this golden one -- sought after by man and woman alike, by human and alien, young and old -- had chosen him out of the whole universe to stay with. His comfort that tonight when they lay sleeping he would be trusted to safeguard Obi-Wan's dreams against reliving Plo's death, and that he could trust in turn to have his own dreams directed away from memories of betrayal and abandonment, away from the one once loved who had also turned to the Dark. And Qui-Gon let shine all of his love to honor the one who had grown from the young man who had returned to him his heart and ability to trust, returned his joy in teaching and life to become the lover who fulfilled and completed his soul.

There were some cultures whose people mated for power. Some for pleasure and others, politics or procreation. To enhance the genetic purity of their species or to fill a life-debt. Some sought out intellectual equals or wealth, while others had their mates determined for them to forge alliances, grant favors or preserve caste segregation. But no matter what reason, on any world and throughout any time whether in the ancient past or the unforeseen future to come, there could only be one answer to that question to Qui-Gon.

Obi-Wan.

-- Finis --