Master Apprentice Archive Sleepwalker Quick search:

Sleepwalker

by Lapis Lazuli (rangerk8@cox.net)

Archive:Yes to MA, my page: anyone else, please send URL so I can gloat.

Category: Drama, Angst, First Time

Rating: NC-17

Spoilers: none

Summary: Qui-Gon tries to find out why Obi-Wan keeps crawling into bed with him.

Feedback: I live and die for it.

Acknowledgement #1: To Lil for babysitting me through it and making me do it right, to Lorsib for last minute help and advice, and to Keelywolfe for starting me down the road to the end.

Acknowledgement #2: For a while, this fic was a jinx - it was submitted to three different zines, accepted by all three, and buried with all three; never made it to print. Finally, Sian needed a last-minute submission for the Con-Strict zine, and it was too late for the zine to die, so it finally saw print. My thanks to all the editors who had it and tried - not your fault, ladies. And to Sian, for snap decisions. This story finally appeared in "Constricted By Plot!", in October, 2001.

Notes: This story got started while I was doing research into sleep disorders, having recently been diagnosed with one myself. All the descriptions of of odd behaviors during somnambulism are derived from actual case histories - I merely changed the setting, not the behavior. Also, the wise Jedi Master quoted in this story, Ri-Chibach, is actually Richard Bach, is his odd but wonderful novel, "Illusions". I can't help it - the man just writes like a Jedi.

Disclaimer: I've tried to wax poetic about this, but I can't - I've flat out stolen these boyz and that's all there is to it. They belong to George Lucas, Lucasfilm Ltd., and his heirs and assigns. I promise to give them back when I'm done - which is a shame, because at least I manage to give them a happy ending, George. So there.

Qui-Gon knew, before he even opened his eyes, that it had happened again.

That unmistakable my-back-is-too-warm-and-my-bed-is-too-small feeling.

He sighed, reaching out with the Force to confirm that his Padawan was again curled up in bed beside him. Taking care with his shielding, he let several unJedi-like thoughts run through his mind. The first being "Why in the name of Yoda won't the boy stay in his own bed?"

Rolling over carefully, Qui-Gon studied the young man's face. The face of a boy rapidly growing into a man, he thought - all sharp angles and planes, a sprinkling of sun freckles across his nose, light brown eyelashes against high cheekbones. No wrinkle marred the brow, no worry creased his forehead. He slept serenely, quietly, with no indication that he was anything other than completely at peace with himself and the world around him. As he watched, Obi-Wan tossed over onto his side, nestling his back trustingly up against his Master.

So why was his Padawan in his bed? He laid one finger gently against the base of Obi-Wan's skull, gently probing his dreaming mind for nightmares or terrors which might not be shown on his face. Making sure he did not find his way into whatever dream might be ongoing, he watched as if attending an entertainment.

His Padawan was indeed dreaming, though Qui-Gon could see nothing of true traumatic worth here. Every apprentice had dreams of having to appear before the Jedi council and forgetting to get dressed beforehand. It was practically required - though Qui-Gon had gone the standard one better and had dreamed that the council had not bothered to dress for the occasion either.

Dismissing the dream as normal to a fault, Qui-Gon lay back down on the bed. He was going to have to have another long talk with his Padawan - though the last three obviously had not done a bit of good. Maybe it was time to ask for help - for both of their sakes. It had been years since Qui-Gon had shared a bed with anyone, and he liked it that way.

Sort of.

Didn't he?

Staring at the back of Obi-Wan's head, he focused on one dark auburn hair. Coming out of the crown of his head, the strand traced a path down the skull, a slight crimp in it where Obi-Wan kept it tied back during the day, tangling with a few others before it reached an end at the neckline of his tunic.

Even in the dark, he could see Obi-Wan that well - as if it were brightest daylight.

When had that happened?

When had he memorized every detail of his Padawan so closely?

Even in the dark he could see the rise and fall of his chest, even and shallow in sleep.

Even in the dark he could see the curve of his hip, the small of his back, the arch of his spine.

And even in the dark, Qui-Gon Jinn could see something else - that he had fallen in love with his apprentice.

But that still didn't answer the first question - why in the name of the hundred little gods was Obi-Wan in his bed?

Qui-Gon stared at the screen of his datapad, pondering the information he had gathered this morning. Upon awakening this morning he found Obi-Wan already gone, with a note in his pad telling him that his Padawan would be in a seminar on ancient Jedi history all morning. Not a word about where he had woken up, or what might have caused it.

Determined to find out what was going on with his wandering apprentice, he had started digging into several areas - human psychology and physiology, sleep disorders, Obi-Wan's medical records, and the temple security logs.

The medical information was fascinating - most authorities were agreed that the most common reason for post-pubescent sleepwalking was as a part of Post-Traumatic Stress Syndrome. But as far as he knew, Obi-Wan had not had any major traumatic shocks lately - they hadn't been off Coruscant in six months, the council deliberately keeping them on planet so that Obi-Wan could get some long delayed classroom hours.

Researchers compared dreams to complex multi-task programming, with every point-of view being contained within the program and accessed randomly by the dreamer. One Jedi mind-healer had even reported that he had been able to access points of view not in use by the dreamer, and with much practice and care, being able to alter the 'programming' enough to direct that point of view to the extent of interacting with the dreamer. Unfortunately, the master Healer was long dead, and no one else had yet been able to fully duplicate his work.

The most interesting thing this morning, by far, was the Temple security record showing his Padawan leaving their quarters last night and entering their favorite practice ring. Obi-Wan spent an hour and a half in the practice ring, then went into the changing room, took a sonic, and came back to their room.

Took a sonic? If Qui-Gon had not done the research into sleepwalking already, he would have been sure that Obi-Wan could not have slept through a sonic shower.

But documented cases of sleepwalkers doing things even more bizarre than that - like walking into a swamp full of hungry crocigators thinking it was a bathtub - told him otherwise. So the next question was - what was Obi-Wan doing in the practice ring for an hour and a half?

The security records only showed an entrance and an exit from the room, not his activities within. Checking the records from the previous nights he'd found his Padawan in his bed, the pattern was the same - leave their room, go into the practice room, stay for anywhere from 1 to 2 hours, then sonic and come back - and climb into Qui-Gon's bed instead of his own. Qui-Gon sighed - so many questions, and his apprentice had the answers all locked safely away in his head. The real problem was how to get those answers without breaking the mind that held them. Keying in a security code that Obi-Wan did not know, Qui-Gon put his research away for the time being. Obi-Wan would be back soon - indeed, was coming through the door at this very moment.

"Good morning, Master!" The young man breezed through the room into his own, apparently cheerful and carefree as a child. Watching through the open door, Qui-Gon could see him shedding his cloak and hanging it on a hook, dropping his datapad on his desk, glancing at his com panel for messages.

"Obi-Wan." He kept his voice gentle, non-accusatory.

His Padawan froze for an instant, then resumed fussing about his room. "Yes, Master?"

"Obi-Wan, come here please."

The young Jedi froze again, then took a deep breath and came out into the common room. "Yes, Master."

"Sit, Obi-Wan - I wish to talk with you." He started to indicate the chair across the table from him, but to his surprise, Obi-Wan went to the center of the room and dropped into his favorite mediation position on the floor. Unhesitatingly, Qui-Gon stood and then joined his apprentice on the floor, sitting close enough to touch him, but not doing so. They sat in silence for a few moments.

"Obi-Wan, you ..."

"Yes, Master, I know," the young man interrupted. "I woke up in your bed again." He stared determinedly at the floor. "I'm very sorry, Master. I'll not let it happen again..."

"That's what you said the last time, Padawan. Whatever means of prevention you had thought of using, it doesn't seem to have worked."

"But Master, I..." He looked up in Qui-Gon's face and stopped, unsure of what he saw there.

The Jedi Master took a deep breath, then let it out slowly, marshaling his thoughts. "Padawan, do you know what is happening on these nights? Other than you getting out of your own bed and lying down in mine?"

Obi-Wan looked at him in astonishment. "Other than? I'm doing something else?"

"According to the security logs, you're going into Practice Ring Four, staying there for anywhere up to two hours, sonicing, and then coming back here." He looked closely at his Padawan. "You don't remember any of this?"

"You can't be serious, Master - who can sleep through a sonic shower?"

"Apparently you can, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan dropped his eyes to the floor again, then shut them. Qui-Gon felt his attention shift as he looked inward, easily attaining the relaxed state necessary for light meditation. Qui-Gon remained silent, ready to wait for days if necessary until Obi-Wan felt ready to speak again.

A few hours later Obi-Wan stirred and then looked up, sadness in his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Master - I have no recollection of this at all. Or of any of the other incidents." If Qui-Gon didn't know his apprentice better, he'd swear he was about to burst into tears. He reached out and put a gentle hand over Obi-Wan's knee.

"Do not fret, Padawan. I don't know much more about what's going on than you do, but you are not alone in this. And while we have not been able to do anything about it up until now, one thing I do know - the two of us, together, can do anything we need to."

Sitting up in his bed, Qui-Gon listened as the door to their quarters opened and slid shut. Unless he was greatly mistaken, his Padawan was at it again. It had been a full two weeks since the last incident, and Qui-Gon had programmed the room announcer to wake him if the door opened during certain hours of the night. Throwing on only a pair of pants and his brown robe, he left the room in chase of Obi-Wan.

Not that he had to chase very hard - Obi-Wan was leisurely walking down the corridor, making no attempt at speed or stealth. As he had the last night this happened, he reached out gently with his thoughts and watched his Padawan's mind at work.

Obi-Wan's thought's were actually quite close to what was going on in reality - he was walking down the temple corridor, now calling for a lift and waiting patiently. Qui-Gon let him enter the lift alone, knowing his destination and not wanting to chance being that close to him.

He called the next lift and went down to the practice rooms. Keeping his tenuous fix on Obi-Wan's dreaming mind, he slipped quietly into Practice Ring Four. Standing near the doorway, he watched silently as his Padawan walked over to a bench recessed in the wall and began to remove his sleepwear and robe. Laying his clothing on the bench, Obi-Wan then proceeded to don invisible clothing that only he could see. In his mind, Qui-Gon could see that Obi-Wan believed himself to be putting on his favorite workout suit. But in reality, the young Jedi was as naked as the day he was born.

His mind controlling all, Obi-Wan began a series of warm-up exercises that indicated he was about to engage in a lightsaber match. Amazed at the completeness of the illusion that was being spun in the mind of his apprentice, Qui-Gon tried desperately not to laugh out loud at Obi-Wan's delusion. His dreaming mind was supplying every sensation that the brush of fabric against skin would give, every ounce of warmth that the fabric would contain to keep muscles loose and supple.

Every droplet of sweat that warmth would generate.

Every ounce of...

Qui-Gon barely managed to drag himself out of Obi-Wan's dream. He had almost gotten sucked under, into the dream itself. He filed that near-failure under "things to meditate about soon" and returned his attention to his sleepwalker.

Rather than chance becoming a part of the problem, Qui-Gon decided simply to observe the results of Obi-Wan's nocturnal wandering. As Obi-Wan walked out into the ring, Qui-Gon suddenly realized the young man had his lightsaber in hand. That was not good - a lightsaber was not a toy to be wielded by a sleeping man.

Before he could do anything, Obi-Wan activated the blade - and saluted an opponent that was not there. Qui-Gon froze. Every piece of information he had studied indicated that waking a sleepwalker suddenly could be dangerous - for all involved. Now that Obi-Wan had a live saber in his hand, he could injure himself or Qui-Gon before he even knew what he was doing. And if his dreaming mind saw Qui-Gon as an attacker, it could get very messy before he woke up enough to tell dream from reality.

The master gathered himself to take action - and hoped he would not have to. Perhaps if he let Obi-Wan act out the patterns he had already set for himself, Qui-Gon might gain some insight into the problem.

On the practice floor, Obi-Wan began to circle, watching his opponent closely. With a swirling hum of light, he lashed out at his unreal sparring partner. At first, Qui-Gon thought his Padawan might be dreaming about training with him. But as the match progressed the older Jedi realized that the style Obi-Wan was defending against was not Qui-Gon's, but his own.

Obi-Wan was fighting himself.

Wary of invading his Padawan's mind again, Qui-Gon listened for any sound that Obi-Wan might make that would indicate what was going on in his mind. He could track the progress of the fight fairly well - the sleeping Obi-Wan was beating his imaginary doppelganger, but not by much. Unfortunately, while Obi-Wan was walking in his sleep, he didn't seem inclined to talk much. In order to find out anything of real importance (such as why his Padawan was here in the first place), Qui-Gon was going to have to re-enter his apprentice's thoughts. Carefully, reminding himself that it was a play, nothing more, Qui-Gon watched as two Obi-Wans battled each other.

It was tormenting really - the two young men were so equal in strategy, tactics, and endurance that it seemed impossible there could be a victor in the fight. And he still could not tell why the fight was taking place at all - another small torment to go with the rest. Even in the dream, they fought silently.

Suddenly, the focus of the dream shifted, and Qui-Gon found his attention directed towards the small set of bleachers at the other end of the ring, set there for occasional spectators. He saw himself in the seats, watching the match impassively, encouraging neither combatant.

A sudden shout brought his attention back to the match - one Obi-Wan had finally disarmed the other, and held him at bay with a lightsaber tip under his chin. The defeated one raised his hands in surrender. Smiling, the victor lowered his lightsaber and deactivated it, then walked over to his twin and hugged him. As they smiled at each other, the loser shrugged his shoulders and glanced at the Qui-Gon in the bleachers. Separating, they both bowed to their dream Master - then the loser disappeared. Obi-Wan stood in the middle of the ring, his eyes riveted on the man in his dreams, apparently waiting for some reaction.

But his dream double did not seem to be supplying the reaction that was expected or wanted. Obi-Wan's shoulders slumped and his face fell as he turned away and moved to retrieve his clothing. Before he could step towards the bench, though, a heavy hand fell upon his shoulder, turning him around to look into his dream Master's face.

Intent upon the scene, Qui-Gon suddenly felt his focus shift - now he was with his double, looking down into a face that was coming alive with happiness. Obi-Wan moved to put his arms around his waist, pressing his face into his shoulder. The dream Qui-Gon wrapped his arms around the younger man and pressed kisses into his hair, trailing down to lick salt-sweat from behind his ears and nibble his earlobe. Obi-Wan moaned as his dream-lover tasted him, and pressed closer to his body, begging for more contact. He moved his head and captured Qui-Gon's mouth with his own, sliding his tongue into a mouth that welcomed him in, accepting and sweet.

Finally breaking the kiss, Obi-Wan moved to slip the cloak from his Master, then laid it down on the floor. Backing up a step, he slowly removed his workout suit, inviting Qui-Gon to watch as he revealed a body glowing with exertion and health. Now nude, he raised his arms and turned around, as if displaying himself for his Master's delight. Finishing his turn, he held his arms out to Qui-Gon in obvious enticement.

Still silent, Qui-Gon stared through his double's eyes at a man he thought he knew, but apparently not well enough. Then to his amazement, the dream Master began to remove his own clothing. He could feel excitement and desire boiling like steam through his veins, taking over his senses and leaving rational thought behind. Obi-Wan's imaginary Master wanted him as badly as Obi-Wan wanted his Master, and the whirlwind of passionate energy was sweeping everything up in its path. Removing the last of his garments, Qui-Gon moved into his Padawan's arms and allowed the young man to guide them both down to the cloak on the floor.

Obi-Wan knelt next to him, running his hands lightly, randomly, over his body. He could feel building tension, arousal, greed even, as the wandering hands touched erratically. Lips followed hands as the young Jedi dipped his head down to taste and nibble at flesh that was warming to his touch. Qui-Gon could feel everything that was happening, and knew it was not happening to his own body. He knew he should try and get out - pull himself out of this extremely sensual and private fantasy. But in a very real way he was experiencing Obi-Wan making love to him. He was beginning to realize that he wanted that very badly.

And then good intentions went out the window with self-realization, as Obi-Wan's mouth closed over his shaft and tried to swallow him whole. He needed to scream, he needed to groan - but he could not make a sound. He was able to move and thrust eagerly into the heated warmth that enveloped him. Eager hands fondled his sac, gently massaging the rapidly tightening flesh and intensifying the sensations assaulting his consciousness. The hot mouth moved, the tongue within traveling up and down, bathing him in liquid ecstasy.

His hardness became the center of his world - every movement, every feeling, every thought was channeled through that one piece of flesh. Obi-Wan moved his mouth back to the top - and once again engulfed him fully, taking him deep down his throat and swallowing, massaging the organ. Qui-Gon felt his orgasm overtake him with a massive heave, his come flowing like a tidal wave down his Padawan's throat. As he blacked out, Qui-Gon thought he heard something that might have been Obi-Wan's voice, but could not make sense out of it...

Qui-Gon opened his eyes cautiously, both wanting and fearing what he might see. He was still in the corner near the door of the practice room, but he had slid down the wall and was now huddled on the floor. His hands were in his lap, wrapped around his still clothed and rapidly shrinking erection, semen soaking into the thin cloth of his sleep pants.

Glancing up, he saw Obi-Wan lying on the practice floor on his stomach. Studying him carefully, Qui-Gon could see the boy was breathing hard, still twitching from an erotic dream the likes of which Qui-Gon hadn't seen since he had been a boy himself - a dream that had featured his Master as his lover.

As the Jedi master tried to wrap his mind around that concept, his Padawan rose from the practice floor. Retrieving his lightsaber, Obi-Wan gathered clothing that did not exist and piled it on the bench, took his pants and robe and headed for the shower room.

Pulling himself together, Qui-Gon followed Obi-Wan into the locker area and watched as the young man stepped into the sonic area and cleaned himself off briskly. Seemingly happy, a smile on his face, he put his robe and pants back on, slipped his lightsaber into a pocket of his robe, and headed out of the locker room.

Still trailing the young man cautiously, Qui-Gon followed him all the way back to their shared quarters. He allowed Obi-Wan to enter and gave him a few moments to settle down. Going into the room, he found Obi-Wan lying in his Master's bed, curled up on his side, sleeping like he had been there for hours.

Qui-Gon Jinn, Jedi Master for over thirty years, stood in the darkened room watching his Padawan sleep - and pondered his next move.

As he sat meditating on his favorite pillow, Qui-Gon finally heard his apprentice stirring about an hour past sunrise. A groan emanated from the bedroom. "Oh, shit..." A rustling noise, and Obi-Wan dashed out of the bedroom heading for his own. As he saw Qui-Gon he skidded to a stop, then cast his eyes down to the floor and reluctantly dragged himself over to a pillow next to him. He settled down onto the cushion, sighing. "I did it again, didn't I, Master."

"Yes, Padawan - you did." The Jedi Master opened his eyes and took in the sleep-creased face, the flattened hair, and the drowsy eyes. "Don't blame yourself, Obi-Wan. Sleepwalking has a cause, you know - it's not a bad habit to be trained out of. And I may have a piece of the puzzle for you." He reached over and patted the younger man on his knee. "Go wash your face and wake up a bit - and have some breakfast. When you're done, we'll talk about it."

"Yes, Master." Obi-Wan rose from the pillow and did as he was told. Moving silently about the suite, he kept sneaking looks at his Master, who sat quietly on the pillows, unmoving as a rock. As he sat down to the table to eat, Qui-Gon broke his silence.

"I have a confession to make to you, Padawan."

"A confession, Master?"

"Yes, Padawan - I followed you last night on your little ... excursion."

"Excursion? I went somewhere outside?" Obi-Wan glanced over at him, surprise on his still somewhat sleepy face.

"There's a datapad on the table, Padawan. Look under the password 'dreamer'." Obi-Wan picked up the pad as he started to eat. "Those are the security logs of your travels last night."

Obi-Wan methodically munched his way through buttered toast and creelberries in cream. Finishing the records and the food together, he stacked the dishes in the kitchen and came to join Qui-Gon. "This only tells part of the tale, Master. What was I doing in a practice room for an hour and a half? Did you see?"

Qui-Gon almost smiled. "You did what you would normally do in a practice room, Padawan - I watched you fight a practice bout. You won, too."

Obi-Wan looked startled. "I fought a saber match? With who, Master?"

"Well, that's the most fascinating part, Padawan." Qui-Gon sobered. "It also is not the whole of what occurred. Something else happened ... after the fight." He watched the young man carefully, but no sign of remembrance or recognition crossed his face. In fact, the emotion most prevalent on Obi-Wan's face was frustration, followed closely by a tinge of fear.

"What happened, my Master?"

Qui-Gon shifted uncomfortably. He was going to have to tread very carefully here - Obi-Wan needed to know what he had dreamed, but Qui-Gon was a little worried about his reaction to how his Master had gained his knowledge. "I want you to understand what is happening, Padawan, and in order to understand, you need information." He looked over at his apprentice. "I used an old Jedi technique called "dreamwalking" to monitor your mental activity. It allowed me to enter your dreaming state and watch the proceedings."

"You were able to watch me dream? I assume I dreamed about fighting someone?" Obi-Wan now looked more interested than afraid, and Qui-Gon felt that was the best possible response he could have hoped for.

"I can do better than tell you about it, Padawan - I can show you. I must warn you though, I think there are some images that will disturb you - but I also think you need to have all the information you can get to resolve this problem."

"I understand, Master. I trust you with my life - my dreams can hardly be an issue. Can we start now?" The young man looked earnestly at his Master.

"Drop your shields, Padawan, and close your eyes. Clear your mind, and simply accept." Qui-Gon reached over and took one hand in his own. Taking a deep, calming breath, he centered himself, then began calling up his memory of the dream he witnessed the night before.

Slowly he watched it play out, feeling his Padawan on the other end of their connection doing the same. Sensing agitation building in his apprentice, Qui-Gon tried to project a sense of calm and acceptance and tightened his hold on the hand he could feel trying to slip from his.

As the dream came to an end, Qui-Gon could feel his Padawan trying desperately to control his emotional reaction to his experience. Confusion was uppermost in his mind, mixed with fear and residual lust, swirling in a whirlpool that was attempting to suck rationality away. He waited patiently until he could feel Obi-Wan begin to regain some mastery of his thoughts. Still conveying a sense of serene acceptance and tolerance, he gradually diminished the channel between them to the normal level of their training bond. As he did so Obi-Wan opened shocked eyes and stared at a point on the wall just over his shoulder.

"Obi-Wan?"

"Yes, Master?" The voice was quiet, steady - not a quaver, but very far from the earnest enthusiasm of a few short minutes ago.

"Tell me what you are thinking, Padawan. Let me help."

"I don't know what to think, Master. It's bad enough I'm having erotic dreams about you, but to know that you have seen them... it's very unnerving." The young man cast his eyes down to the floor and color flooded into his face, staining his cheeks a deep pink. "I mean, it's not a bad thing I'm dreaming about you, but..." The blush deepened. "As you can tell, I am finding your teachings on control very useful at the moment - if a bit strained."

"What is it that upsets you more, Obi-Wan - the fact that you dreamed of making love to me or the fact that I know about it?"

"I suspect if I knew the answer to that question, Master, I would be well on the way to solving my problem." The young man finally raised his eyes to his mentor's. "Why do I have the feeling I know what you're about to say?"

"Because you are a most perceptive young man, my Padawan."

"May I ask you a personal question, Master?"

"Of course, Obi-Wan. You know I will answer you if I can."

"Are you upset about my dream?"

"No, Padawan. Dreams are the way our subconscious mind works on our problems. This is a problem you need to solve in your own mind. I will help you in any way I can - but ultimately, only you can decipher it." Qui-Gon held up the hand he still grasped, caressed it with his other, and smiled gently. "Meditate on this, Padawan; 'There is no such thing as a problem without a gift for you in its hands. You seek problems because you need their gifts.' When you find the gift, you will find your answer."

Qui-Gon Jinn watched his Padawan move through the next few days like a man in a dream. Obi-Wan seemed to float about the Temple barely avoiding being trampled by the life rushing around him. He did spend a great deal of time in a few of the meditation gardens, but never quite seemed to come out of his thoughtful reverie when he left them. He performed his training exercises, ate his meals, finished his assigned tasks, all in varying degrees of the same half-attentive state. Only by the grace of the Force did he manage to do all of this without mishap or bobble.

The master Jedi did not interfere in this walking exercise in meditation - judging that half awake was better than not awake at all. There were no more night-time lightsaber bouts, for which he was devoutly thankful. But of his Padawan's frame of mind he had no clue at all. He had at one point caught Obi-Wan studying him intently, almost as if he were a stranger who might represent some threat. He could feel the eyes cataloging him as surely as if the young man had trained a sensor array on him. While he did not know what the objective of the scrutiny was, it made him intensely uncomfortable to think that he might be found wanting in some way.

The worst part about it was, he was wanting. He wanted Obi-Wan - in every way, shape, form, and possibility. For even as his Padawan was meditating on his problem, Qui-Gon could see that he also needed to meditate on the same thing he had assigned to his apprentice - what gift did this dilemma bring him? He knew what he hoped for - he wanted to love and to be loved by the man his apprentice had become. He worried that he had never actually come out and told Obi-Wan that he loved him - and at the same time he was afraid Obi-Wan already knew. He also realized that it was not necessarily the will of the Force that Obi-Wan love him back.

That revelation was a bit of a shock to Qui-Gon. He knew the Force had brought him and Obi-Wan together on that wild mission to Bandomeer. He had felt that as certainly as he had felt his own heart beating, and he had known it long before he had accepted it. Now it seemed the Force was intent on teaching him another lesson in submission - by letting him know, with the same certainty he had felt and tried to deny on Bandomeer, that his will was secondary to Obi-Wan's in this matter of the heart. Now, he just had to perform the same miracle for a second time and learn to accept the will of the Force.

It had been five days since the last midnight excursion and their subsequent talk, and Qui-Gon was miserable. Five days of uncertainty. Five days of happiness and despair rising and falling in his heart like two creche children on a balance-board. They were quite possibly the longest five days of his life since his Trials.

There were days that he hated being Jedi.

He lay awake in his bed, contemplating his bedroom wall for lack of anything better to do. Sleep seemed to be something more elusive than snowballs on Tatooine. He wanted to get up and go into his apprentice's bedroom and pour out his heart to him - but he could think of thousands of reasons not to do so. The primary one that kept him lying in bed rather than keeping Obi-Wan awake was very simple - he was afraid. And true to Master Yoda's favorite mantra, his fear was making him suffer the tortures of the damned.

He could not let it go. Endless hours of meditation attempting to release his fear, trying to accept that the Force would go in the way that it was supposed to, had ended here in the dead of night with him feeling just as frustrated and helpless as he had when he started. So he stared at the wall, lying on his side with his back to the open door, striving to ignore it.

He succeeded so well that he nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt the bed shift and something warm smoothly spread itself against his back. Twisting swiftly, he found Obi-Wan lying beside him, softly illuminated in the glow of city lights from his window. At first he thought that his Padawan must have somehow gone sleepwalking again, with the usual result. But then he realized that Obi-Wan was awake, and looking at him intently.

"I'm sorry, Master," he said quietly, "I didn't mean to startle you."

"What are you doing here, Obi-Wan? Were you sleepwalking again? Are you all right?" He closed his eyes, trying not to notice that the young man was clad, as he was, only in light sleep-pants.

"No, Master, I was not sleepwalking tonight. I'm fine - I wanted to talk, and I could tell you were not asleep." The voice was steady and low.

"Talk, hmmm. And what was so important to talk about that it could not wait until morning, Padawan?"

"I think the answers to my questions are best given in the dark, Master. While Jedi are taught to fight the darkness and shun it, there are reasons to treasure the darkness of night. It can cover many things - fear, nervousness, hesitation, insecurity - all of these things can be hidden in the dark."

"But as Jedi, we should give all of these things to the Force, and let them go. Hesitation, nervousness, insecurity, fear - all of these things you name can get you killed, Padawan."

"You know this better than I do, my Master - you taught it to me. But Jedi are also fallible beings, Master - and we do not always do as we should. Indeed, sometimes we cannot do so - and still stay human beings." Qui-Gon started as he felt a light touch on his forehead, and opened his eyes as the touch slid over his temple and down his cheek to his mouth. Reflexively, his lips pursed and he placed the lightest of kisses on the fingers. He saw his Padawan draw back his hand and contemplate the digits like a new and fascinating species of life.

"And what questions do you need answered in the dark, Obi-Wan?"

"Just one, Master." Obi-Wan lowered his hand and looked at the older man. "Do you love me?"

Ooof. Well, it was now or never. "Yes, Obi-Wan, I do."

"Why?"

A grin touched Qui-Gon's face briefly in spite of himself, hidden by the darkness. "That's two questions, Padawan."

The silence was profound, though the Jedi master was certain he heard a mental whisper of exasperation from his apprentice. "Yes, Master."

So much for humor - the young man wasn't going to give him an inch. "Why do I love you? Why shouldn't I love you, Padawan? You are brave, intelligent, caring, good-natured, impetuous, daring, loyal, clean, thrifty, respectful..."

"Master!" The protest was only whispered, but intense.

"...not to mention you have a face and body a Hutt slave factor could easily get a planetary ransom for." He leaned forward and placed a light kiss on Obi-Wan's hand. "I love you because you are you - my Obi-Wan, the one person in this galaxy who makes up my other half. I need no other reason."

"I did as you instructed, Master - I meditated on my dreams, and on the precept you assigned. I consulted several texts on philosophy and metaphysics, including Master Yaddle's treatise on dream imagery. In the course of my studies, believe I discovered the gift that my problem brought me."

"What have you concluded, Obi-Wan?"

"'To bring anything into your life, imagine that it's already there.'"

He closed his eyes and let a trickle of thanksgiving escape his shielding to go into the Force. "From Ri-Chibach's "Life of Illusions," I believe - is it not, my Padawan?"

"It is, my Master." The younger man stretched himself out on the bed next to Qui-Gon. "And it is both my problem and my gift. I dreamed of you that way - And my inner dreamer fought my perceived reality. When my dreams won out, they determined my focus - you. Then I would come back to your bed - to sleep with the man I had just made love with." He leaned his face in and kissed the broken nose, then moved down to the full lips. Pressing his lips gently against his Master's, he then pulled back and simply looked at Qui-Gon, his eyes shining in the city lights. "I am tired of dreaming, Master. And I love you."

Obi-Wan kissed him again, firmer this time, a gentle tongue questing for a way into his mouth and finding it as his lips parted. A soft sigh from his Padawan was swallowed as arms found their way around each other and the kiss deepened, each drawing the other closer, tighter. Qui-Gon lay back and drew Obi-Wan on top of him, luxuriating in the feel of the young man's weight on him. So long, he thought, since this sensation - and never with this sense of connection, of rightness, that he felt now.

As that connection grew firmer, he began to hear Obi-Wan in his mind more clearly than he ever had before. Even as his apprentice's lips began to work their way down his neck to his chest, his name was being chanted in his head along with simple monosyllables like "love", "sweet", "good", "want." He answered equally silently, with emotions rather than words, as the feeling of Obi-Wan nibbling on his left nipple while lightly scraping his fingernails across his right one caused anything approaching intelligent speech to flee his mind. He felt a massive shiver run down his body, causing it to arch in tension and then collapse into boneless delight as his Padawan teased his senses into submission. Obi-Wan moved slowly down Qui-Gon's body, gently licking and nibbling, stroking his fingers randomly over sensitized skin.

Qui-Gon ran his fingers through his apprentice's soft hair, groaning aloud as the teasing lips reached his erection. They grazed the tip like the touch of a feather, making it twitch in anticipation. But the taunting mouth never touched, instead blowing tiny puffs of warm air over the hypersensitive organ and causing its owner to moan in protest. He did not urge with his hands, though - he wanted Obi-Wan to know that he was the one in charge, at least this first time for them.

The warm air traveled lower, down over his sac and into the creases of his thighs, and a soft cheek nuzzled him gently. Qui-Gon reached out and grabbed handfuls of bedclothes. He could not lose control, would not lose control - but the exquisite sensations his Padawan seemed bent on administering were making him nearly crazed. As he concentrated on what he was feeling, the Master Jedi felt a tiny stir in the Force and then the touch of Obi-Wan's hand, smoothing something slick and warm on his penis.

The sudden touch was almost enough to make him come on the spot, but he caught himself in time as Obi-Wan's voice in his head crooned a plea for him to wait just a few more minutes...

...and then his apprentice was straddling his hips, guiding Qui-Gon's eager erection to his opening, and sinking down to sheathe it in his hot, tight softness. The young Jedi held himself motionless for a moment, then began rising and falling, impaling himself repeatedly on the hard flesh.

In his head, the chanting changed gradually from words to a keening, wordless cry, increasing in pitch as their mutual arousal grew, almost as if they shared the same body. And then there was a pulse, and they went over the edge together, weightlessly, flying instead of falling.

Distantly, Qui-Gon felt his lover collapse on his chest and couldn't care less - anything that kept him closer to Obi-Wan was devoutly to be desired. As he became more aware of his flesh, he felt the slim body slide off of his flaccid penis and down to his side. A slight shift and a Force nudge from his Padawan, and he rolled back onto his side. As he did, he felt Obi-Wan spoon up behind him, warm body fitted against his back, young arms wrapping around him in a boneless hug.

He knew this feeling - that unmistakable my-back-is-too-warm-and-my-bed-is-too-small feeling. And he thanked all the hundred forgotten gods that Obi-Wan was in his bed.

-finis-