Master Apprentice Archive Still As Bright Quick search:

Category: Oh...I don't know...AU, First Time

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: Slash

Pairing: Q/O

Disclaimer: Sadly I neither own them nor do I get any money.

Feedback: Please!!!

Summary: Qui-Gon is given a gift (yes it's another Obi slave story).

Archive: MA; QJEB.

Oban was curled in his usual spot overlooking the garden when the head of the harem guard entered the room and ordered the first group into their work wear. Oban continued to read, as Favoured slave he was not called upon to entertain the dinner guests.

"You too, Oban."

He looked up into the guard's eyes an eyebrow raised in surprise.

"Sed Shara has a special task for you. Get ready ... and make sure you look ... enticing."

Oban shot a look over his shoulder and snorted. *Look enticing! What did they expect from a pleasure slave?* Stripping off his clothes as he entered his room Oban spared a thought for what they had in mind for him. He had learned young that resisting led to pain for no one but himself ... even sly rebellion didn't help ... the best thing was to be the perfect, obedient slave, that way you were harassed as little as possible and treated as a valuable asset.

Pulling on silky golden trousers, Oban leaned towards the mirror to draw a fine smoky line around his eyes. He inspected the effect and added a shimmer of colour across his eyelids and a discrete rosy stain to his lips. Taking another long look, he grimaced at his reflection. *Valuable asset* that was him ... still he had not been whipped or sent for the use of the guards since that terrible night when he had still believed he could escape ... his life wasn't his own but at least he *was* alive.

As he turned, the light gleamed on the slender golden band around his throat. He paused and raised a hand to hover over the hated collar. He was the only slave to wear one and he had never really understood why. Some of the other slaves said it signified his favoured status but there were murmurs that he was a freak. They said the collar was a control device, that when he first arrived he had been crazed and had caused damage to the guards and to himself.

Oban had only the haziest memories of his arrival at the palace and none of his life before but he *did* remember the searing pain when they placed the collar around his neck. The pain had faded over the years but in it's place was a numbness that extended from his chin to his shoulders. His fingers almost skimmed the metal but then drew back and he shuddered as he remembered the agony that always followed when he touched the collar.

Entering the banqueting hall with the other slaves, Oban was called to stand with the head guard while the others went to join Sed Shara and be distributed at the Trader's whim. The head guard moved towards the high table with Oban in his wake. After one swift glance at the table Oban kept his eyes lowered. Being offered for the use of an important guest meant that he only had one person to please. He sank to his knees as the guard came to a halt. The hall was hot and smoky and there was the usual cacophony of noise but Oban was aware of a sense of serenity and peace emanating from the man in front of him.

"Sed Shara asks that you accept this gift, Master Jedi."

Oban blinked, *a Jedi*, well that explained the peaceful aura. He ignored the guard's words having heard them all before and tried to sense more about the man he was being offered to. Serenity and strength seemed to flow from the Jedi. Oban took a chance and stole a glimpse upward. He felt the tension in his stomach ease as he saw the serenity reflected in the Jedi's demeanour. While they were not looking at him the man's deep blue eyes glowed with intelligence and understanding ... he looked kind.

A movement caught Oban's attention. The guard leaned forward and dropped something in the Jedi's outstretched hand. "The key to his collar. I will send his papers to you before you leave. Your acceptance honours us, Sir Jedi."

A wave of relief washed through him. He didn't know whether the Jedi kept slaves but even if they did they had to be an improvement on the Trade Clans ... nothing could be worse. With a deep sigh Oban let his head fall forward to rest on the linen clad knee before him, whispering "Thank you, Master."

Jedi master or not he was in a funk. To all outward appearances Qui-Gon Jinn was enjoying the raucous music, the lewd jokes, the crude advances from the diners seated near him, but behind the customary serene demeanour he was bored and faintly disgusted. He allowed his wine cup to be refilled again and decided that he had done his duty and could excuse himself from the festivities as soon as the next set of dances ended and his cup was empty.

The new planetary ruler, Ashteni denFaret, leaned close to Qui-Gon's ear to murmur yet another story that showed his opponents in the worst possible light when the Jedi's attention was caught by the faint whisper of a presence in the Force. It wasn't the first time he'd felt this trace. The people of Gatharn were not Force sensitive so the hint of a sentient in the Force was unexpected and intriguing. Each time Qui-Gon had become aware of it he had reached out but each time it had slipped away and faded. This time it seemed to be getting stronger ... and closer.

He was carefully searching for the source when Ashteni's voice rose slightly and took on a satisfied tone. "Ah, Master Jinn, the Trade clans have something for you."

Shining, tawny hair fell forward as a young man sank to his knees. The sensuous glow of light playing on gleaming skin drew the Jedi's eyes across well defined muscle as the vague presence settled to a cool clear aura around the slim, kneeling body. It was a Force signature that would do a senior padawan proud though it was oddly muted and unfocussed.

"Sed Shara asks that you accept his gift, Master Jedi."

The oily, insinuating voice dragged Qui-Gon's attention away from the lithe youth kneeling at his feet to the bulky clansman standing beside him. "Gift?"

The clansman pointed downward. "The Trade clans wish to thank you for mediating this agreement. Sed Shara offers this pleasure slave as an expression of gratitude."

*Jedi don't accept gifts.* The usual words of refusal hovered on his lips but Qui-Gon stopped them, searching the aura surrounding the slave. The youth was definitely Force sensitive. By accepting the gift he was rescuing him from a life of slavery and probable degradation ... surely the Council would sanction accepting *this* gift?

Qui-Gon inclined his head gravely. "Sed Shara is most generous. May I know his name?"

"He's called Oban." The clan guard held his hand out and dropped a narrow piece of metal into the Jedi's palm. "The key to his collar. I will send his papers to you before you leave. Your acceptance honours us, Sir Jedi."

Reflecting that the traders would find their error if they tried to claim an obligation from the Jedi, or from him personally, the Jedi master nodded and watched the trader return to his clan. A soft pressure on his leg brought his attention back to the young man who had leaned forward slightly and was resting his forehead on Qui-Gon's knees. A low elegant voice whispered, "Thank you, Master."

Gratitude and relief permeated the Force. Qui-gon reflected that the boy must be desperate indeed to be so happy at being given to a total stranger. Gently lifting Oban's chin the Jedi smiled reassuringly into wide smoky eyes made huge with the subtle use of cosmetics and the glow of trust. "Let us leave this place Oban."

Oban rose gracefully, lowering his eyes and following as Qui-Gon made his farewells to the ruler and his court. Ignoring the lecherous suggestions and knowing smiles the Jedi steered his new possession from the banqueting hall. As they moved through the palace corridors Oban placed himself at Qui-Gon's left shoulder, half a pace behind. Qui-Gon smiled inwardly at the thought that, but for the boy's provocative clothing, they could have been master and padawan. Resisting the urge to drape his robe around the youth's naked shoulders, Qui-Gon quickened his pace a little as they passed the knowing eyes of guards and servants.

Once in his rooms Qui-Gon shrugged off the robe and turned to find Oban again kneeling at his feet. This time he was bowed so that his forehead touched the floor, his hands laid flat beside his knees. It was the ritual position of a penitent padawan. Disturbed to have this young man prostrate himself thus before him Qui-Gon leaned and rested a hand on Oban's shoulder. "Please, don't do that Oban, there is no need."

Oban raised his head but remained kneeling. "Master?" a careful question in his voice.

Sitting on the couch Qui-Gon gestured to the seat beside him. "I would rather you sat. And there is no need to call me 'Master'. My name is Qui-Gon Jinn."

Oban looked confused but he nodded obediently and rose to sit on the couch, close enough that the Jedi could feel the heat of the young man's body and smell the sweet, spicy smell of him, but with a careful distance between them. Qui-Gon searched the man beside him and was relieved to see that although he was wary there was no fear in his eyes or in his aura.

"I think we should take this off." He touched the slender golden collar Oban wore and recoiled at the cold, dark ache that shot up his arm as a numbness spread through his senses. How could anyone wear this vile thing? How could a Force sensitive bear it's touch?

There were a number of substances that could be used to 'damp' the Force. Most worked by inhibiting the connection between the mind and the Force, though there were some that simply suppressed the awareness to such a degree that no useable amount of the Force could be manipulated. The collar about Oban's throat was something else, something the Jedi had never encountered before, something that seemed to twist and distort the Force. It felt profoundly wrong.

Oban watched as the Jedi retrieved the key from his belt and felt a whisper at the edge of his perception as Qui-Gon searched for the opening in the collar. Oban's eyes were fixed on the small piece of metal as though it was his lifeline ... which in a way it was, cutting a Force sensitive off from the Force was like blunting all his senses at once. Over time it built up a backlog that often lead to severe trauma and invariably caused intense pain.

Qui-Gon dropped the ring of metal to the floor unable to suppress a moue of disgust.

Oban sat still and silent as the key slid into the lock and the collar was removed from his neck. The sensation of relief was overwhelming. His shoulders relaxed and tears began to seep from his eyes. "Oh... oh ... Light ... thank you." His head sagged back against the cushions as he gulped for air, his hands flew his neck and massaged the area that had been circled by the collar. Fine tremors ran through his muscles, his skin gleamed with perspiration and his mind raced outward in an automatic attempt to touch and sense.

Qui-Gon absorbed the outflowing of emotion sending gentle waves of reassurance and letting his hand rest comfortingly on Oban's shoulder. As the emotional storm showed no sign of fading he went to the tiny room that served as a kitchen and brought back a large glass of water. "Here, drink this." Holding it as Oban took long swallows. "Careful, you'll choke."

With an arm around Oban's shoulders Qui-Gon pulled the shaking body to rest against his chest, rubbing soothing circles on the boy's back and murmuring soft reassurance as he tried to calm him. Oban's emotions were clear now the collar was gone, as was an astonishing sense of power. He met Qui-Gon's mental touch avidly, soaking up the touch of the Force and reaching eagerly to grasp the comfort being offering him.

Qui-Gon let his mind twine gently about Oban's, radiating comfort and reassurance. Oban met the mental caress with amazement and delight, basking in the sensation before he responded eagerly. He returned the touch with a slightly clumsy enthusiasm that the Jedi found as endearing as it was indicative of his previous isolation.

As he calmed Oban, Qui-Gon carefully showed the youth the rudiments of shielding against revealing private thoughts and emotions. It was obvious to Qui-Gon that the youth had, at some time, received training in manipulating the Force. Although his emotions were spilling forth with an ecstasy of relief, the deeper areas of the boy's mind were closed.

After long minutes Oban began to quieten, the tremors fading and his thoughts taking on a shy, embarrassed tone as he realised the uncontrolled flood of emotion he had radiated. Clumsy but effective shields slid into place and he sat up. He dragged a shaky hand over his eyes making black smudges across his face and looked at the Jedi master gravely. "I don't know what you want of me but whatever it is, I give it willingly." His voice was low and steady and there was a look of utter devotion in his eyes.

Such a dangerous offer and so tempting. Qui-Gon felt a shiver of arousal snake through him. "Oban ..." He paused considering the young man beside him, "You don't owe me anything."

Oban could sense the Jedi meant him no harm though the swirl of emotions was shielded. He put a tentative hand on Qui-Gon's knee. "I was dead until they gave me to you. You give me life."

"I only give you back what is yours..." The pale hand tightened and Qui-Gon took it between both of his own. "How long have you been with the Traders, Oban?"

Slender fingers gripped the Jedi's big hands and Oban hung his head. "I don't know. A long time, maybe forever."

"Do you remember anything before ... your parents, your home?"

Oban shook his head slowly, frowning as he realised how strange this was. More, he suddenly also realised that he had never thought of his childhood, even when the other slaves were trading stories.

Probing carefully Qui-Gon asked. "What is the first thing you remember?"

Oban's fingers tightened. "Warmth ... other children ... "

"Brothers and sisters?"

A shake of the tawny head, "No. Lots of others. We all slept in a big room. It was warm ... safe. The adults were nice ... " His voice trailed to silence.

Qui-Gon lightly brushed the memories that were flitting across the surface of the other man's mind ... rooms and corridors made huge by the perspective of a child ... adult voices that were firm but affectionate ... and a tantalising glimpse of an endless skyline. "Who? The Traders?"

This time Oban's moved more hesitantly. "No ... I don't think so. We had classes ... and games ... and exercises." He stopped and a puzzled expression came into his eyes.

Qui-Gon waited as Oban gazed into nothing, the young man's sense of confusion palpable. When he didn't speak Qui-Gon pressed gently a little deeper into his mind, it was as though Oban was wandering through a maze, searching along blind alleys. Following, the Jedi could feel Oban being distracted, diverted from his purpose. Qui-Gon frowned, it was almost as though a false trail had been laid, Oban was being drawn into winding, hazy byways that dwindled to nothing.

"Oban." There was no response. "*Oban*." Qui-Gon put his hand on Oban's shoulder and shook him gently.

Startled eyes turned up to the Jedi and a fearful expression passed across Oban's face. "Forgive me, Master." All his experience as a slave told him that he needed to abase himself and he began to slide to the floor.

Qui-Gon caught him with a firm hand to his chest and pushed him back into the seat. "There is nothing to forgive, Oban. Tell me, what is your first memory with the Trader clan?"

The frown of concentration appeared again. "I was weak ... I think I'd been sick. They said I had been found wandering in the forest."

"How old were you?"

"I don't know." Oban was puzzled by his lack of memory but that worry was overborne by the growing sense that he was failing his new master in some way.

"Can you say how long ago it was?" Qui-Gon asked gently, monitoring the flow of Oban's superficial memories. Again there was a sly sense of something nudging the boy away from the memory he sought.

Oban shivered. "A long time. Seven ... eight years I think."

The Jedi considered. The lad appeared to be in his late teens or early twenties which meant that he had been captured at around fourteen or younger if this memory was truly his first contact with the traders. Oban was beginning to shiver and a sense of misery was growing. Qui-Gon took his hand and held it between his own letting his long fingers stroke the smaller hand. "Can you remember anything before that?"

Oban's shivers intensified to long shudders that ran along his limbs. He took a deep breath and stared at his hands held between Qui-Gon's larger ones. The Jedi master had glimpses of fighting ... energy bolts and flames ... screams ... a deep sorrow ... a sense of loss ... of guilt. A low moan began in the boy's chest and his fingers tightened till his knuckles were white and the blood was being crushed from Qui-Gon's fingers.

Enough for now Qui-Gon decided. He stood and drew Oban to his feet. "Never mind. Let's get you cleaned up young man. I have transport arranged for first thing tomorrow morning and ... "

Oban wrenched himself from the Jedi's grasp and flung himself to his knees, arms wrapped around the Qui-Gon's legs, cheek against his thigh. "No! Don't leave me, Master." Convinced that he was being rejected, his mind churned with fear and despair and his body tensed as he slid his hands up the back of Qui-Gon's legs and clutched the muscular thighs. Strong fingers dug into the Jedi's skin for an instant then he began to move feverishly, caressing and entreating as he raised his head until his mouth was nuzzling against Qui-Gon's groin begging in the only way he knew. "Take me with you. I am yours ... please, Master. I will do whatever you want. Please ... don't leave me."

The desperation in Oban's voice went some small way to counteract the erotic touch of his fingers and lips but Qui-Gon was all too aware of his body's response. "Oban, no." Once again he drew Oban to his feet. The young man wound his arms around the Jedi and rained frantic kisses on Qui-Gon's throat, nipping softly and begging, slender, agile fingers slithering between the folds of the Jedi's tunics to caress and seduce.

"Shh, it's all right Oban. I intend to take you with me. We are going to my home. To the Temple." As Qui-Gon spoke he was moving to the bathroom. He lowered Oban onto a stool while he found a soft cloth. Qui-Gon sat on his heels cleaning the streaked cosmetics from Oban's face. "Then you can decide what you want to do. Where you want to go."

"I want to go with you." Oban's voice was low but definite.

Of course he did, Oban had been a slave for nearly half his life, what would become of him if he was left to fend for himself. Qui-Gon smiled as he began to run the bath water, "Very well. We can talk on the trip home. You are welcome to stay with me as long as you like." The Jedi lowered his social shields to allow Oban to sense his motives, he planned for Oban to see the Temple healers and hopefully regain his memory and work on reconstructing his life. He ran a gentle hand over Oban's head. "Now then, I want you to take a warm bath and then sleep, it is going to be an early start tomorrow."

Qui-Gon went to rummage through his clothing and returned with an pair of soft training pants. "These will be too big but they are the best I can offer." He took two towels from the cupboard and set them beside the tub. "Take as long as you need. I will be in the other room."

Oban watched as the door closed and then sighed. He stepped into the big bathtub and settled back into the warm water stretching happily. With his head resting against the curved side of the tub he thought about his situation. His new master was a puzzle. Oban could sense that the Jedi was attracted to him but he had made no move to touch him in anything but a comforting manner, indeed he had gently repulsed Oban's attempts to seduce him. But Oban could also sense that his master was telling the truth ... that he would take him with him and overwhelmingly he felt safety and reassurance from the big man.

Oban smiled as he began to lather the soap over his body. The Jedi was the tallest man he had ever seen, taller than the members of the Trade Clans, even taller than the tallest Gatharn. Oban let himself see his master as a man for the first time, he was much older but he was lean and muscular ... obviously a warrior Oban decided ... and yet his voice was deep and soft and his hands gentle. All in all things were looking decidedly better than they had this morning Oban decided.

While the ex-slave bathed Qui-Gon pulled a blanket and pillow from the bed and laid them on the couch. He had often, of necessity, shared a bed with fellow Jedi ... not to mention lovers of various sexes ... but the idea of sleeping beside the lithe body of this youth, this *pleasure slave* ... *his* pleasure slave, set off warning bells even as it sent the blood directly to his groin. Qui-Gon had accepted this gift to save the boy from sexual servitude not to use him himself.

Qui-Gon poured myself a cup of cha. Oban had a strong Force ability and the Jedi was certain that he had been trained at some time. It was unlikely that the Trade Clan would bother, especially since they had collared him with an inhibitor. So the training must have been before his capture. Qui-Gon considered calling the Council but decided against it until he was back on the Temple transport.

Was it possible that Oban's early memories were of being in the Temple? Other peoples understood Force use and many learned to manipulate it. Still it was unlikely that a child as strong as this young man would have been missed by the Jedi unless he came from one of the most remote systems. And although his ability was limited there was the definite mark of a talented teacher on 3 his mind.

A number of Jedi had gone missing in the past ten years. Temple work was always dangerous and losses were inevitable. Unless it was clearly established that the missing Jedi were dead the Temple spared no time or effort to find their own. There were perhaps five cases in which no absolute proof of death had been found in the past decade. Qui-Gon would need to check the Temple records to be sure. It was also possible students of other disciplines had gone missing, that would also have to be checked, but somehow he had the impression that Oban was a padawan.

There had only been two master and apprentice pairs that had been lost in recent years as far as Qui-Gon could recall. Such an event was particularly painful to the Jedi so he doubted that he had missed any. He was recalling the two tragedies when the bathroom door opened and he looked up to see Oban standing just inside the room.

The Jedi's old training pants were rolled up at Oban's ankles and he clutched them at the waist to keep them from sliding down his hips. Qui-Gon smiled to himself, he could fix that. He rummaged through his clothing again and presented Oban with a cord. "Here, try tying that around the waist."

Hitching the fabric higher Oban wound the cord around his middle and smiled shyly. "Thank you, Master."

With his face free of cosmetics Oban looked both older and more innocent and could have been any one of dozens of padawans at the Temple. "Would you like something to eat or drink before you sleep?"

Oban shook his head. "No, thank you Master."

"Very well. There is only one bed but I think you will be comfortable here."

Big eyes gazed at Qui-Gon, puzzled and worried. Oban started to say something then dropped his eyes. He was radiating anxiety and rejection.

"What is it, Oban?"

"You don't want me, Master?" Oban's voice was hushed and hesitant.

A shiver of arousal ran through Qui-Gon at the soft words. "Oban ... I accepted the trader's offer so that you would no longer be a slave. You don't have to please me."

"And if I want to?" The youth looked into Qui-Gon's eyes.

"I'm flattered, but I don't think it is a good idea." Qui-Gon said firmly. Oban's sense of anxiety and failure was palpable. Qui-Gon tried to explain. "You are free ... your own person ... and the Force is strong in you. We are going to Coruscant. You will be able to learn how to use that. There is a life ahead of you, a future. *You* can determine what you want to do with your life. No one is going to make you do anything you don't want. No one owns you, you belong to yourself."

Oban was standing beside the table his body drooping, his eyes fearful. He nodded uncertainly. "I think I understand but ... "

"But?"

"I don't know how." He sounded lost.

"You'll learn. It will take us ten days to return to Coruscant and we can use that time. I will help you."

"Will you teach me how to use the Force?" There was a wistful note in his voice.

Qui-Gon hadn't taken a padawan since the disaster of Xanatos but he nodded. "Certainly. I will teach you what I can."

"But you don't want me to sleep with you?"

"Oban ... "

The soft voice rushed on, "Not sex if you don't want to ... but please let me be with you." He was imploring Qui-Gon while steeling himself to be rebuffed.

The Jedi master sighed, "Very well, bring the pillow with you." How could he resist that voice, those eyes. Qui-Gon only hoped that his shields would hold as he slept and that his body wouldn't betray him.

Heading for the bathroom Qui-Gon washed and changed into his sleeping pants. When he emerged the lights had been turned off in the sitting room and a soft glow led him to the bedroom. Even prepared for the sight of the golden body lying in his bed it took Qui-Gon's breath away and made him painfully hard. Oban was lying on his back at the far edge of the bed. He was laid out as though for funerary rites. Qui-Gon sat on the side of the bed taking a moment to centre himself and quiet his body. He brushed a hand over Oban's cheek. "Relax Oban ... sleep."

He put Force into the suggestion, nudging Oban towards sleep and wrapping him in comfort. Oban's eyelids began to droop, he shifted to his side, curled one arm under the pillow, pulled it close and slept.

At dawn Qui-Gon woke to find Oban pressed close against his side one hand heavy on his chest. The feeling of a warm body brought back bitter sweet memories of lovers past and of his two padawans. Some of the few pleasant memories Qui-Gon had of Xanatos were of watching him sleep when they had shared a bed on missions. For a moment he savoured the sensation then he slid out of bed and quickly dressed before gently shaking Oban's shoulder. "Time to get up."

Stretching languidly Oban rolled on to his back and blinked as he stared up at his new master. As the sleep left his mind and memory returned, a wide happy smile lit his face. "Good morning, Master."

"Good morning, Oban. There is breakfast in the other room. Join me when you are ready." The radiant, open smile and sensual stretch unnerved Qui-Gon and he fled the bedroom.

The Jedi master had made his formal farewells the previous day so after a light meal he gathered his pack and wrapped Oban in his second cloak. A palace driver took them through the empty city and within the hour they were settling in as the pilot lifted the ship from the surface.

As soon as they were out of orbit Qui-Gon sent Oban to wait in the cabin and contacted the Council. The holo image flickered and Mace Windu greeted his friend. "Well done, Qui-Gon. The Gatharn ruler contacted us last night, they are very pleased with the treaty."

Qui-Gon inclined his head, "To be honest, Mace there wasn't much for me to do. I just tidied up the loose ends." He grinned at the councillor. "Oh and by the way Mace, I've picked up another pathetic life form ... a young man."

"What! Who?"

"He's called Oban. He has a powerful Force signature and some training but he has no memory of his life before he was enslaved by the Trader clan. I have been wondering if he is a missing padawan."

"A padawan!?" Mace's reaction was as astonished as Qui-Gon had hoped.

"He was given to me ... a gift from one of the Trader lords."

"A *gift*? Qui-Gon ... " the councillor growled.

Qui-Gon answered soothingly. "He was one of a group of slaves the trader clan brought to the celebration last night. They offered him to me. I sensed his Force signature as soon as he entered the room ... they had him collared with a Force dampener. I could hardly leave him there."

Mace was looking at someone Qui-Gon couldn't see. He nodded, then, "Can you send a blood sample?"

Having anticipated this Qui-Gon pushed the slide into the reader. "All prepared. I intend to talk with him and perhaps meditate ... see if he can remember anything of his life before he was captured." He smiled a little at Mace's frown. "If you identify him perhaps you can send me his records."

The councillor nodded. "You will have them shortly. We look forward to your return Qui-Gon ... and to meeting your protege." He smiled and the holo blinked off.

The trip to Coruscant would take ten standard days, plenty of time to get to know the young man and to gain some sense of his abilities in the Force. Qui-Gon joined Oban in the cabin he had occupied on the outward journey. As he shed his cloak the ex-slave hurried to take it and fold it carefully, setting in neatly over the arm of a chair.

"Master?" He was standing waiting, wearing only the slinky gold trousers he had worn to the banquet, trousers that hung low on his hips and moulded to his thighs and calves.

Keenly aware of the sensual image standing before him Qui-Gon kept his eyes firmly fixed on Oban's face as he sat, "Sit, please. I want to talk to you."

Oban sank gracefully into the chair opposite wondering what this most unusual master would require of him. "Yes, Master."

"Oban, how much do you know of the Force?"

The question surprised him. A slight frown drew his brows together and Oban said slowly, "I don't know ... that it surrounds us ... that it is in everything and everyone." He fell silent looking questioningly at the Jedi.

"Do you understand your ability."

One shoulder hitched and Oban shook his head. "The other slaves said I was a freak ... that the traders made me wear that collar because I was dangerous." He shivered and ran his fingers around his neck unused to the sensations that were returning to the numbed flesh.

"You are not a freak, Oban." Qui-Gon replied quickly. "You are Force sensitive. What do you know about the Jedi?"

At the word Oban tilted his head a little and his eyes narrowed. "The Jedi? You are a Jedi aren't you, Master?"

"Yes, Oban, I am, and I think you might have been once too."

"Me?!" The blue/grey eyes widened in astonishment.

"Yes." Qui-Gon reached gently into his mind. "Feel that?"

Oban nodded. "That is me reaching for you with the Force and you instinctively reach back." Qui-Gon considered for a moment. "Do you know how to meditate?"

"I don't think so, Master." Oban was confused by the change of topic.

"Then it's time you learned." Qui-Gon moved to kneel on the mat and gestured Oban to join him. The young man sank to the floor and settled easily into a position that mirrored Qui-Gon's. Qui-Gon began with the exercises that the youngsters in the Temple creche learned. By the time they stopped for noon meal the Jedi was more certain than ever that Oban had been trained by the Temple, he had picked up the exercises quickly and fallen easily into a meditative trance.

After the meal the comm unit was flashing so Qui-Gon sent Oban to the makeshift exercise room that had been set up in a disused hold while he read the information the Temple had sent.

The blood sample had confirmed his suspicion. Oban was one of their own, a padawan called Obi-Wan Kenobi. A padawan who had been lost, presumed dead, at the age of thirteen, almost nine standard years ago. Obi-Wan had been on a mission with his Master, Del Temlana, when the transport they were returning to Coruscant on had been boarded by pirates. The remains of the ship was found days later drifting in space with seven cold and starving survivors huddled in the only section that still had oxygen.

Qui-Gon halted the data flow and thought back over his memories of Del Temlana. They were contemporaries and he had seen a lot of her around the Temple while he was an initiate though rather less when they were both padawans. She had been a short stocky woman, with a fierce fighting style and a gift for languages and mathematics.

Try as he might Qui-Gon's only memories of her padawan were of a silent, graceful boy who padded at her heels. He did however recall the shock that went through the Jedi at their deaths. No bodies were ever recovered and, as there was no hint of their presence in the Force, it was assumed that both had been jettisoned into space. Qui-Gon had been on Coruscant when the memorial was held. Both master and padawan were popular with their peers and it was a large gathering that farewelled the pair. Looking back what he most remembered was the sad, worried expression in Master Yoda's eyes as they met Qui-Gon's.

The data told him that Obi-Wan had been given to the Jedi at the age of three and had been a studious and talented initiate before being accepted as padawan. He had been eleven when Master Temlana accepted him, a bright, gifted boy who had attracted Yoda's interest. Among the usual reports by teachers and creche masters were several from Master Yoda himself, including one that recommended knights and masters considered suitable to take Obi-Wan as their apprentice... at the top of the very short list was Qui-Gon's own name.

Qui-Gon remembered his old Master badgering him to look at the initiates ... to take a new padawan and let the trauma of Xanatos fade ... but he didn't recall him mentioning anyone specifically. Qui-Gon had avoided seeing the youngsters as he refused to take another padawan, but now he wondered whether Master Temlana would still be alive if he had followed Master Yoda's advice. Of course the possibility was that Qui-Gon himself would be dead in her place ... but then it was also possible that they both would have survived and that a young padawan would not have been subjected to nine years of servitude.

Qui-Gon sighed, there was no point thinking along those lines. Life happened as the Force directed. And if he had thwarted the Force's plans for himself and this young man it now appeared the Force was giving them a second chance.

Along with the information on the loss of Master Temlana and her padawan was a message from Master Schal, a senior Healer, specialising in rehabilitation and trauma cases. Schal had been the healer who had worked with Qui-Gon after Xanatos turned. For weeks he spent hours each day with the healer and it was almost two years before he stopped talking to Schal regularly. Schal's message now was typically brief and to the point.

**Qui-Gon, I hear that you have recovered one of our lost padawans. Mace tells me he has lost his early memories. Don't try to force him to remember ... let it come naturally. I've sent some general background information on the Jedi and the Temple. Let him read ... answer his questions ... *don't* push. He may never regain his memories, it depends why he lost them, and I can't tell until I've seen him. Keep him healthy ... give him general information ... see if it triggers anything ... I want to see you both as soon as you land.**

And with that the transmission ended.

Qui-Gon made himself a mug of spiced cha and wondered how the Council would handle this returning Jedi. There had been padawans who had been captured before but none so young and none for so long. Oban was obviously strong in the Force and had survived his years of captivity emerging surprisingly sane, but who knew what damage had been done emotionally and psychologically. And then there were the nine years of training and education he had lost.

Draining his mug Qui-Gon changed into training gear and went to join Oban ... Obi-Wan ... in the hold. Determined to see that the youth had the best chance of resuming his life and his training Qui-Gon intended to see where Oban's skills and abilities lay.

As soon as he entered the hold it was clear that Oban's physical abilities were considerable. Qui-Gon stood quietly beside the door, watching and admiring as the young man completed an exercise routine that was both strenuous and fluent. Not surprisingly for a pleasure slave the youth's body was in excellent shape both slender and graceful, more unexpected however was the strength and definition of his muscles. The teacher in Qui-Gon was noting the strengths and flaws, looking for areas that needed improvement to bring the youth back to padawan standard. He was pleased to note that there was not as much work required as he had feared.

Oban came to a halt, arms outstretched and head thrown back, his chest rising and falling lightly, his breathing hardly elevated. There was an expression of calm joy on his face as he remained poised for a long moment before he shook his hair away from his face and looked around for his towel.

When he saw Qui-Gon Oban, felt a thrill go through him. His expression became slightly guarded but he smiled, and murmured "Master" as he picked up the towel to wiped his face and neck, hiding his face as he tried to quiet the reaction of his body to the unexpected sight of the older man.

"I thought I would join you Obi ... Oban." Qui-Gon stammered over Oban's real name.

"*Obi*. No one has ever given me a pet name before."

Oban's smile deepened and became a little embarrassed. "Thank you, Master, I like it."

"Good." Qui-Gon let it go at that. "Do you know anything about self defence?"

Oban shook his head.

*Of course not ... who teaches a slave to defend himself.*

"Then that's something else you need to learn." Qui-Gon itched to put a lightsabre in Oban's hand but for the moment he settled for teaching him the hand-to-hand combat that the initiates began with. Not surprisingly Oban picked it up easily and after an hour or so Qui-Gon was sure that by the time they reached Coruscant he could have Oban's physical skills at more or less the standard they were when he went missing. It was only when the Jedi asked the ex-slave to take the offensive that he sensed a problem.

After another hour it was apparent that Oban had some deep seated inhibitions against attacking ... or perhaps just against attacking his master. Qui-Gon also sensed that Oban was becoming frustrated with his inability to please him and he drew back. "That's enough for today, Oban." He placed a hand on the youth's shoulder. "We will find a way through this ... don't fret over it."

Oban nodded glumly. He was unhappy that he could not do what his master wanted but he was also confused that the Jedi wanted him to attack him. He looked up into the clear, blue eyes and saw approval and confidence. "I'll try not to, Master."

Qui-Gon nodded. "Good. But I wish you would use my name. Qui-Gon... call me Qui-Gon."

Oban smiled shyly and shook his head before ducking out of the hold and hurrying back to the Cabin. When he reached it Oban shed his clothes and dived into the bathroom, heading for the shower cubicle. With the hot water streaming over his body he allowed himself to think of the image his master had presented during the training session. The Jedi was a big man but he moved with astonishing grace and speed, his long hair lifting about his shoulders as he spun, his huge hands hard on Oban's body as he corrected Oban's movements or demonstrated a manoeuvre.

Oban tipped his head back and let the water flow over his face as he allowed his body to react to the images. He had been a pleasure slave for as long as he could remember and that meant his body had been used by more people than he could begin to count, in more ways than he cared to think about. Never in all those years had he wished to couple with another being, even when they were kind and gentle he found the act hateful. Yet here he was, rigid with need for the stranger who had become his master.

Shaking the water out of his eyes Oban switched off the hot water and allowed the icy flow to focus on his genitals. After several shivering minutes he stepped out of the cubicle and wrapped a large fleecy towel about his waist, picking up a smaller one to dry his hair. Qui-Gon had gathered up his towel and followed more slowly.

The lad was intriguing. Qui-Gon had enjoyed training until Xanatos had shattered his confidence not only in his ability to teach but also in his judgement. But sparing with Oban and meditating with him earlier had brought a soul-deep sense of fulfilment and peace. And then there was the attraction he felt for the young man.

Sighing, Qui-Gon stood for a moment outside his cabin to calm his mind and body. No matter how much he desired Oban he could not act on that desire until the youth regained his memory, or at least developed a sense of self beyond that of pleasure slave. Until then he could never be sure that Oban hadn't acted from gratitude or fear. The situation was complicated by the fact that the Jedi could sense that Oban shared his desire. Taking a deep breath Qui-Gon opened the door to be confronted by the sight of Oban wrapped in a large white towel.

The two men stood frozen, staring at each other for a moment until Qui-Gon said vaguely, "Ah, you've finished with the shower."

He noticed the small galley and asked, "Oban, can you use the catering unit?" The young man nodded and Qui-Gon smiled. "Good, then I'll shower while you fix something for dinner." And he disappeared into the bathroom.

After the meal Qui-Gon showed Oban how to use the personal reader. He handed Oban the data wafer with background on the Jedi, made sure he was comfortable with the unit and settled into his evening meditations.

Oban was fascinated by the information he read. The history of the Jedi touched a chord in the young man and it was hours later when he came to end of the historical section that realised he was stiff form sitting still so long. He paused the reader and stretched his neck and shoulders. Deciding he needed a drink before continuing Oban padded to the galley and poured a glass of water. As he returned to the sofa his eyes fell on his master.

The Jedi was still meditating. He was kneeling, his long form outlined against the dark mat. The older man's big hands rested on his thighs, body relaxed, head canted slightly forward, eyes closed. Oban took in the high forehead, crooked nose and soft hair glowing bronze in the muted light. He moved back to the sofa and picked up the reader his eyes remaining on the Jedi. Qui-Gon was barefoot, dressed in soft trousers and a loose tunic. The soft fabric clung to the older man's body, defining each curve and accentuating the long line of his muscles.

Oban found his eyes lingering over the broad capable hands and feet then sliding up long legs to settle on the shadowed bulge of the Jedi's groin. Suddenly desire raged through him. In the unfamiliar situation of desiring a man who didn't seem to want him, Oban closed his eyes and tried to still his body. His fingers twitched and he considered returning to the cold shower.

When Qui-Gon emerged from his trance it was to the awareness of desolation. Rising from the mat he looked across at Oban and saw the younger man curled into a ball on the sofa, eyes tight closed and rocking slightly. "Oban?" No response. "Obi ... what is it? What's wrong?" He sat beside the youth and laid a gentle hand on his shoulder.

The hand sent a jolt through Oban. The fire in his groin flared and his body was wracked by shudders. With a titanic effort Oban sat up. "I'm sorry, Master." His eyes were directed down at his clenched hands.

"It's all right, Obi. You don't have to apologise for being unhappy." Qui-Gon watched the young man, trying to read the cause behind the distress. "What it is? Tell me?"

After a moment a long shuddering sigh went through Oban and he slid to the floor at Qui-Gon's feet. "I need ... " his voice faded.

Dismayed at Oban's submissive pose Qui-Gon ran his hand through Oban's bright hair and down to his chin, tilting the handsome face up to meet his eyes. "What do you need?"

Oban flushed and lowered his eyes. "You, Master." His voice lowered to a whisper. "I need you." He moved his hand away from his groin to show the very obvious erection he had been hiding.

Qui-Gon closed his eyes. "Oban ... "

"I know you don't want me, Master, not like that." Oban's elegant voice was hesitant.

"It's not that I don't ... when we have reached Coruscant and you know what you want to do with your life ... " He took in the misery in Oban's eyes and mind and said gently, "Oban, I need to speak to the captain, you should use the time to pleasure yourself."

As Qui-Gon stood a flood of despair leaked from Oban and the young man whispered something. He waited for Oban to repeat himself then knelt beside him projecting reassurance, "What is it? Tell me, Obi?"

Blushing and hanging his head Oban whispered again, "I can't." He saw the question on Qui-Gon's face. "I can't ... "

"I don't understand."

Oban's blush deepened. "I just can't. I'm not allowed."

Qui-Gon put his arm around the youth's drooping shoulders and felt Oban allow his shields to thin. A flood of images filled the Jedi's mind ... half-formed images of being beaten or denied meals or company when he displeased his masters, and of being praised and rewarded when he did please them. He had been trained like an animal. Qui-Gon pushed his anger aside to be dealt with later and gathered Oban in an embrace. "I can help you with that."

Settling on the sofa again Qui-Gon sat with Oban on his lap.

"Oban, I want you to forget what the Traders taught you." He placed a finger on the other man's lips. "I know ... it won't be easy ... and it will take time." He placed one arm firmly around Oban's waist his hand splayed across the young man's belly, and with his other took hold of Oban's hand. "You can do this if you want ... I want you to do this."

Lacing his fingers through Oban's he moved their hands to Oban's lap to curl around the younger man's erection. Oban's fingers stilled, then they tightened and he shivered as his head fell back against Qui-Gon's shoulder. The Jedi simply held Oban's hand for a moment then he moved to untie the laces at the Oban's waist.

Oban's fingers quivered as he felt his master's hand move. The quiver deepened as Qui-Gon carefully opened the fabric and placed their hands on bare skin. Pushing aside his reservations Qui-Gon moved Oban until the younger man was resting back across his chest his legs sprawled open. He closed his eyes and curved his fingers around Oban's again moving them firmly until the youth took up the rhythm himself. Once he was sure Oban was lost in the sensation, Qui-Gon removed his hand and laid it on the youth's thigh, moving his fingers in lazy circles.

Qui-Gon opened his eyes and drank in the sight of Oban in his arms, bright eyes staring hazily up into his, lips parted ... breath coming in husky gasps. Qui-Gon let his eyes drift closed again and revelled in the sensation as he continued rubbing gentle caresses on thigh and belly. He was drifting as Oban spiralled towards orgasm, riding the waves of bliss that streamed from the young man's mind and enjoying the sheer physical pleasure of having the strong, young body in his arms.

As he basked in the sensations running through him Oban twisted in Qui-Gon's arm until he was half facing the Jedi and could undulate against the muscular thigh. Qui-Gon let his hand slide until it was pressed against Oban's lower back and bent his head forward to bury his face in Oban's hair. Taking a firm grip on his emotions and breathing slowly to settle his body, Qui-Gon turned his thoughts to Healer Schal's advice so that he could ignore Oban writhing against him.

With a wry mental smile Qui-Gon realised it wasn't working. His mind was perfectly capable of thinking serious thoughts while his body was happily responding to the sensual assault that was Oban. Just as he was preparing to make another effort at controlling his libido he was over whelmed by the twin assault of a warm, firm hand pressing and kneading, and a hot mouth fastening onto his neck.

Murmuring, Qui-Gon increased the pressure of his hand on Oban's back. He realised with relief that Oban was on the brink of orgasm and was steeling himself to ride out the storm when sly fingers insinuated themselves into his trousers and fastened themselves around his cock. Before the Jedi could do more than gasp Oban was shuddering and gasping, his hand clutching as he tipped over the edge and climaxed. Even as Oban was trembling in the wake of orgasm his fingers began to slide and tease the Jedi's hard flesh, a firm grasp circling the base as a second hand added teasing fingers that slid over the crown and along the underside.

Qui-Gon moaned as his world spun on it's axis, luxurious sensation swamping him. The ecstasy of release slammed through the Jedi as Oban snuggled against him, nuzzling his face into the curve of Qui-Gon's throat.

When he regained his senses it was to find Oban was lying curled around him unconscious. Gathering himself he stood and fetched a cloth from the bathroom. After carefully cleaning Oban, Qui-Gon picked him up and laid the young man on the bed, stripping off the soiled pants and covering him with the bed-clothes.

Qui-Gon stood looking down at the sleeping youth before going to clean himself and change into his sleeping pants. After a brief hesitation he went to the second cabin. He stripped the bedding from the cot, carried it to his own cabin and put it on the floor at the foot of his bed. Turning off the lights he lay on the bedding on the floor and slept.

Oban woke to a sense of well-being and comfort. He opened his eyes and was momentarily disoriented to see the pale grey of the bulkheads and feel the almost subliminal hum of the hyperdrive. He was on a starship ... the Jedi's starship ... the Jedi who was his new master.

That realisation calmed his fears. No more beatings, no more being sent to service trade opponents, or politicians or thugs. His master was a Jedi ... a tall, gracious, *kind* Jedi. Oban smiled as he rolled onto his back and let the tension leave his body.

As he stretched he realised he was alone in the bed. Oban had rather vague memories of how the previous night had ended but he *did* recall the wonderful sensation of big, gentle hands and the sweet flood of orgasm as he was held warm and safe against a body that demanded nothing and caused no pain. Smiling, he sat and looked around. In the dim light of hyperspace it was impossible to tell day from night, but there were only minimal lights on in the suite.

So where was his master? Oban sat on the edge of the bed expecting the Jedi to appear from the galley or the bathroom. When no one appeared he swung his feet to the ground and stood, taking two steps before he saw the pile of bedding on the floor and the fan of rich brown hair that spilled over the pillow.

His master had chosen to sleep on the floor rather than share a bed with him. Oban stood frozen as he felt some of the warm happiness leach away. He wanted nothing more than to lie pressed against the older man's lean strength, wanted it more than he wanted the glory of orgasm, but his master preferred to sleep on a thin mattress on the floor.

Oban felt tears prickle his eyes and an ache start in his throat. The Jedi had helped him ... offered pleasure ... release ... though he desired nothing from his slave, though he could not bear to even sleep in the same bed. Oban felt his heart contract. Never had he met a non-slave who cared for anything but his own desires. Kneeling beside the bed, Oban followed the lessons his master had given him on meditation and sank into a trance, letting his mind dwell on the kindness of this man and the beauty.

Qui-Gon awoke to the sense that something was wrong.

Remembering the previous night he reached out to sense Oban's emotions and was horrified to feel the sorrow and regret that the young man was emanating. He raised himself on his elbow and turned the lighting up to a soft glow and saw Oban kneeling on the floor beside him.

For an appalled moment he thought the ex-slave was abasing himself but a careful sweep over Oban's surface thoughts showed that he was meditating.

To the naked eye Oban looked to be poised and relaxed but to anyone with the ability to read the Force, the ex-slave was clearly confused and upset. Taking a mirror position before other man, Qui-Gon let his thoughts still and reached out to monitor Oban's meditations. Delving only deep enough to read the surface thoughts and emotions he began to untangle the confused, and often contradictory streams. Overall Oban seemed to be quite calm, but it was the calm of despair, of resignation.

In fact the young man was trying to subdue the hopeful thoughts he had been harbouring, thoughts of being with Qui-Gon, of making himself a place in the Jedi's life, of having his desire returned.

He was determining to be the perfect slave, to make himself so useful, and so unobtrusive, that his master would allow him to remain at his side. A sad smile twisted Qui-Gon's lips as he realised that Oban was reminding himself that he was a slave who had been accepted by his new master out of pity.

Sliding skillfully into Oban's meditations Qui-Gon met self-deprecating thoughts and confronted them with his admiration of how Oban had survived and grown into a sane, healthy, *attractive* man.

He flooded the young man's mind with affection and acceptance, then he slid quietly out and sat back watching the handsome face before him. His eyes moved down to the rhythmical rise and fall of the golden chest then stopped short as he realised that Oban was utterly, gloriously naked.

Standing hurriedly Qui-Gon retrieved the now clean training pants from the laundry unit and tossed them on the bed before heading for the galley to prepare first meal and to ponder the extent to which Oban's self-esteem was dictated by the response of his master. It made sense for a slave to try to please his master ... it was only self-preservation ... but with Oban it was more than that. The young man seemed to have completely identified himself with Qui-Gon and to be judging everything against the Jedi's reaction.

Oban sensed the shift when his master's thoughts joined his own. He felt warmth flow through him as the Jedi firmly rebuffed the tormenting notions of inadequacy. Emerging from the trance Oban sat on his heels as he tried to reconcile Qui-Gon's acceptance and his own experience in life.

Faint sounds of movement in the next room indicated where the other man was. The soft chink of crockery suggested that a meal was being prepared. Oban smiled, in the two days he had been with the Jedi meals seemed to have played a major part in their interaction. He found that odd since in the harem food had been provided from the palace kitchens and was eaten quickly, a source of sustenance not of pleasure.

The Jedi's deep voice called from the other room. "Obi. Come and eat before it gets cold."

Oban stood and was surprised to realise that he was naked. Casting his gaze around the sleeping space he saw the training pants and slid into them. He stopped in front of the mirror to run a brush through his hair. He stared at his pale skin wishing he had his cosmetics with him then he shrugged with a slaves sense of fatalism and joined Qui-Gon in the main room of the cabin.

"Ah, there you are, young man." Qui-Gon gestured him to the table. "Sit. Eat. What would you like to drink? There's water or juice, or if you prefer something hot there is cha or caf."

Unsettled by having his master serve him Oban sat, his eyes lowered and murmured. "Caf please."

"Sweet?"

He nodded, "Yes please, Master."

Qui-Gon placed a large mug before Oban and another on the far side of the table where he sat and began to pile hotcakes onto his plate.

The two men ate in silence for a time before Oban took his courage in his hands. "I'm sorry, Master."

Qui-Gon looked at the young man over the rim of his mug.

"Why are you apologising, Obi? What do you think you've done wrong?"

Holding his mug in front of him like a shield Oban said, "I made you do something you didn't want to do. I'm sorry."

His master was watching him with those kind, understanding eyes... it made Oban want to fall at his feet... or into his arms.

"Oban, you didn't *make* me do anything. You were in pain. I chose to help you."

"But you didn't want to touch me." Oban's eyes fell to his plate. "And I ... I ... " he couldn't say the words. "When you hadn't given me permission."

Qui-Gon closed his eyes and rubbed his fingers along the length of his nose. "Oban ... Obi ... we need to talk about this. It's not that I don't want to touch you. But ... " Now it was the Jedi's turn to have trouble finding words.

"Jedi aren't allowed?" Oban suggested.

"Well, no. I mean, we are allowed but ... there are some situations where ... " Qui-Gon poured himself more caf. "This is complicated, Obi. Jedi aren't allowed to accept gifts. We do our work for the good of the Republic, and at the will of the Force. Our work would be compromised if people thought they could influence us through gifts." He smiled at the puzzled look on Oban's face. "I accepted you because it meant I could free you from slavery and because I recognised a fellow Force-sensitive."

"But you don't really want me?"

"Obi, what I want is not the issue here. If I return to Coruscant with a gorgeous pleasure slave, who just happens to be Force-sensitive, possibly a lost Jedi apprentice... and it is seen that I am having sex with you ... " Qui-Gon smiled wryly. "Well, my motives for freeing you would be suspect and my suitability for continuing to help you called into question. To be honest I'd question it myself if I was in the Council's position."

The puzzled look deepened to a frown. "Why?"

"Because you are vulnerable and I am in a position of power over you. Because the only life you know is that of a slave." The Jedi held the young man's eyes. "Obi, you are a strong, graceful, overwhelmingly attractive young man who is probably also very intelligent and talented in ways you cannot begin to imagine at the moment, but all you know is how to be a pleasure slave. You have been trained to please your master with no thought of your own desires."

Oban said softly, "I desire you, Master."

Qui-Gon smiled sadly. "I know you do but ... well, you have been conditioned to respond to your master."

"No!" Oban was indignant. "I desire *you*, Master. I have never desired anyone before. Never!" His voice was vehement and his eyes demanded that Qui-Gon believe him.

Qui-Gon was saddened by the image of this man forced into a life of affectionless sex when little more than a child. His voice was gentle. "I am flattered ... honoured that you feel that way. And I also desire you." He held up a hand as Oban surged from his seat." But if we are to have any sort of relationship ... be it friendship, or teacher and student ... or even lovers we must be circumspect now."

"But there is no one to see us, Master!" Oban said reasonably.

"We will see ... and remember. Obi, there is a huge part of your life that you can't remember. I hope that you *will* remember it but you don't know how you will feel when that part of you returns. That part of you was never a pleasure slave. I believe that you were trained in the use of the Force. I think you may have been a trainee Jedi ... a padawan." Qui-Gon poured all his belief and sincerity into his words. "I want to be a part of your life as a free individual, *not* just another man who used you."

The intensity of his master's voice and the honesty in his eyes held Oban. He found the concept of freedom incomprehensible and frightening but the idea that he might be able to learn to use the Force intrigued him. A thrill ran through him when his master said he might have been a Jedi himself, the words seemed to pluck at something buried deep within. "What is a padawan?"

Qui-Gon smiled, pleased that the word peaked the lad's interest. "A padawan is a young Jedi who is apprenticed to senior Jedi ... a knight or a master. They work together ... the master training the padawan physically and mentally, both while they are in Temple and also away on missions. The master hands on his knowledge and experience. A padawan also has lessons with other teachers in the Temple. It takes many years but eventually a padawan becomes a knight."

There was a far away look in Oban's eyes, then he smiled. "It sounds like hard work."

Qui-Gon returned his smile, "It is, Obi. But it is also satisfying, watching a youngster grow into his or her potential and take their place in the order."

"Do you have a padawan, Master?" There was a wistful note in his voice.

"Not at present. I have had two in the past."

The Jedi started to gather the plates from the table but Oban leapt to his feet and took them from him. "I should do that, Master."

Qui-Gon nodded and watched as the young man bustled between the table and the galley. He doubted that clearing table had been one of Oban's duties as a pleasure slave and he was sure no Jedi had ever had such an exotic helper, it was however usual for a padawan to undertake day to day chores. The Jedi smiled, "When you have finished, Obi, I will begin to teach you how to focus the Force if that would please you."

Throwing a startled glance at his master Oban nodded, "If it would please *you*, Master."

Qui-Gon sighed. Breaking the habits of slavery was going to take time. As he tied his hair back he reflected that it was unrealistic to expect that two days in his company would overcome the conditioning of nine years. He wondered what state his much vaunted serenity would be in after nine more days alone with this strangely innocent siren.

They spent the morning in meditation and mental exercises and the afternoon in physical exercises. Before ending for the day Qui-Gon sent Oban to stand by the wall and instructed him to watch while he ran through the first kata. He did it first at full speed then again at quarter and half speed coming to rest facing the young man. "Do you think you could do that?"

There was a fascinated gleam in the young man's eyes. "I ... I don't know."

"Stand in front of me. Now ... we will take it slowly ... do what I do. Just copy ... don't think."

After a hesitant start Oban was mirroring Qui-Gon's moves with a fluid grace that had the Jedi nodding with approval. "Well done, Obi. Now let's do it faster." They repeated the moves at half speed, then at full speed. Qui-Gon felt the Force twine around them, guiding and supporting. "That was excellent, Oban."

The young man's aura was fairly singing with pleasure and accomplishment. "It felt wonderful, Master."

Qui-Gon smiled and patted Oban's shoulder. "Just wait, it gets better."

After dinner Qui-Gon prepared to meditate and set Oban to reading a basic history of the Republic. The Jedi started his meditation with standard breathing and centering exercises then allowed his thoughts to focus on Oban. Training the young man felt right. Qui-Gon could feel the Force bringing them together. The problem was how to handle Oban's transition from slavery to freedom.

Oban was patently glad to be with Qui-Gon rather than still with the Trader Clan but his behaviour continued to follow the pattern of a pleasure slave. Unsurprising perhaps as he had no other model to follow other that of the Traders themselves. Qui-Gon conceded that the lad had been willing and obedient, he had adjusted quickly to the routine he had been set but it disturbed the Jedi to sense his submissiveness and the simmering undercurrent of sexual arousal.

Bringing himself out of his trance but remaining kneeling, Qui-Gon considered the journey to Coruscant. He smiled to himself, imagining the scene if he arrived at the Temple with Oban dressed in the clinging golden pants, naked to the waist and wearing the cosmetics he had worn to the banquet. The Council would probably banish him to the Outer Rim... once it had got over its apoplexy of envy. Qui-Gon was not sure that Oban would understand the reasons he was reluctant to have sex with him even if he could explain it properly. In Oban's reality he had spent all his life as a pleasure slave.

To be undesired was to be useless, and a useless slave was either relegated to more onerous duties or sold. He realised that Oban was adapting his behaviour to what he thought his master required in an effort to be not to be rejected.

Well, he couldn't expect Oban to change his whole behaviour and way of thinking in just a few days, but Qui-Gon was nothing of not patient. The issue that was more pressing was Oban's inability to control his body's responses or relieve them himself. Qui-Gon was caught on the horns of a dilemma... he could not stand by and let the lad suffer yet he felt that any sexual contact between them was inappropriate.

He wondered whether it would be possible to use a variation of Force healing to enter Oban's mind and remove the conditioning that blocked his actions. After considering the possibility Qui-Gon came to the conclusion that he was neither skilled nor knowledgeable enough to do such sensitive manipulation. Perhaps Master Schal could assist but that would have to wait until they reached Coruscant.

Opening his eyes he looked at Oban stretched out on the sofa, engrossed in his reading. Such a beautiful young man, so eager to please, so vulnerable. Qui-Gon felt his emotions swirl around him. Whichever choice he made he feared the outcome. If he refused Oban the boy suffered... if he allowed a sexual relationship he not only abused his position but he risked Oban's rejection and possibly his disgust when he began his new life. And that, Qui-Gon realised was restraining him as much, if not more, than the idea that it was an abuse of his position.

Feeling his master's gaze on him, Oban looked up from the reader, a question in his eyes. "Master?"

Qui-Gon rose smoothly to his feet. "Would you care for cha, Oban?"

Putting down the reader Oban also rose to his feet. "Let me do that, Master."

The Jedi watched the young man walk to the tiny galley and set the water to boil. "How do you find the reading?"

Oban placed two mugs on the bench, "It's interesting, Master. It makes the concerns of the Trader Clans look very small."

"In many ways they are. It is a big galaxy out there, Obi."

"Do you have more for me to read?" Oban handed a mug to his master and sat back on the sofa.

Qui-Gon sat on a chair facing him. "Yes. There are a number of other wafers, and when we reach Coruscant there is a whole library you can access."

The shining head bent as Oban lowered his eyes, "I feel I don't deserve your kindness, Master."

"Oban ... "

"You give me so much and you won't take anything in return." He raised wide smoky eyes to entreat Qui-Gon, "Please, Master," and slid to the floor to press his for head to Qui-Gon's feet.

The Jedi closed his eyes and took several deep breaths. "Obi ... " He looked down at Oban's crouched body. "Please, don't ... "

Oban raised his head and placed a tentative hand on his master's knee. "Let me give you pleasure, Master."

One of Qui-Gon's large hand pushed a lock of hair back from Oban's forehead then fell to cover the hand resting on his knee. "You know what I think about this, Oban."

With his free hand Oban reached and laid it lightly on Qui-Gon's groin. "You want me. And I want you. Why won't you let yourself have this?" Oban was bewildered and hurt and faintly scared. He had never known anyone who controlled their emotions and it unnerved him.

Qui-Gon removed the hand from his groin and held each of Oban's hands in his own rubbing his thumbs across the soft skin soothingly. "I know it confuses you, Obi, and I'm sorry." He made a decision. "Perhaps we can deal with your inability to pleasure yourself."

"But I want to pleasure *you*!" Oban almost wailed.

Taking the bright head between his hands Qui-Gon bent forward and pressed a soft kiss on his forehead. "I know ... I know, Obi." He touched Oban's mind, calming and reassuring. "If you can learn to pleasure yourself you *will* please me."

Oban turned his head to press a kiss into his master's palm. "That's not what I mean. I want to be with you."

Qui-Gon ran his thumbs over the young man's cheeks. "If you still want that when you regain your memories ... "

"What if I never regain them? Will I be allowed to stay with you?"

That was a good question. Qui-Gon moved to the sofa taking Oban with him. "You will regain them, Obi."

"But if I don't?"

"You can still stay at the Temple if you want to." Qui-Gon was sure that Oban would remember he had once been Obi-Wan but if he didn't then Qui-Gon was going to do battle with the Council the make sure Oban was allowed to make a life for himself.

"With you?" Oban insisted.

"Obi, you *are* going to remember, and you *are* going to build a new life. Don't expect the worst." Qui-Gon threaded his fingers through Oban shoulder length hair and curved them around his skull, gently shaking Oban's head. "Your focus determines your reality."

Oban let his head rest in his master's hands for a moment then straightened and sat his own hands clasped in his lap and his eyes fixed on them. "If I can learn to pleasure myself will you give me leave to pleasure you before we reach your home?" He raised his eyes to his master's. "Please, Master."

"Oh, Obi." Qui-Gon sighed.

Oban put one hand on his own groin and placed Qui-Gon's over it. "Thank you, Master."

Qui-Gon shook his head and shot Oban a glance of mock exasperation. Standing he turned Oban towards the bedroom. "I'll be with you in a minute."

Oban looked at the bed then he turned and looked at the mattress on the floor with its pile of neatly folded bedding. When the Jedi entered the bedroom Oban was kneeling on the mattress on the floor clutching the pillow in his arms. He looked up at Qui-Gon and put the pillow on the mattress beside him. "Tell me what to do, Master."

Holding his hand out Qui-Gon said, "Firstly come up here onto the bed." He tossed the cloth he was holding onto a chair and dimmed the lights to a soft glow. "Oban, do you know how to masturbate?"

Oban ducked his head, blushing. "I think so, I mean, I know in theory and I've done it to other people."

Rather touched by the ex-slaves ability to blush at such a basic human activity, but horrified at an adolescence that forbade a boy from touching himself, Qui-Gon nodded. "All right, it is easier when you're doing to yourself ... you get instant feedback on what feels good." After a brief hesitation Qui-Gon shed his clothes, the idea of instructing a naked pleasure slave how to masturbate while he himself was fully dressed did not seem right.

Oban watched his every move with a hawk-like gaze. A hint of heat replaced the anxiety in the young man's eyes when Qui-Gon stood naked beside the bed. A firm hand pressed him backwards until he was leaning against the pillows. He shivered feeling more exposed and vulnerable than he had in a thousand sexual encounters at the bidding of the Traders.

Qui-Gon lay on his side facing Oban wondering what in heavens he was doing and whether he would survive it with his sanity intact. Shaking off his doubt he reached for Oban's thoughts and projected approval and calm and just the slightest hint of compulsion. "Obi, it is natural to take your own pleasure. It is something you should have been allowed to do as an adolescent, stifling it is both unnatural and cruel. I want to teach you that it is a perfectly acceptable part of your private life." He leaned forward and kissed Oban's forehead again. "I'm right here with you. Now, run your hands over your skin."

Oban's fingers twitched, one hand on his stomach the other on his thigh. "I ... I can't."

"Yes, you can. Just start with your hands where they are... let them move ... feel your skin under your fingers." Qui-Gon watched as Oban began to move, his touch tentative and slow. "Good, feel how your skin feels different on different parts of your body ... and notice what your fingers feel like touching yourself. Enjoy it." He could see the compulsion not to do this, battle with Oban's desire to obey him.

"Obi, close your eyes. Feel your touch, feel your skin ... think about me watching you."

That did it, a faint flush coloured Oban's cheekbones and there was a stirring in his penis. Checking that Oban was not distressed Qui-Gon slid out of his mind leaving only support and a mild compulsion. He closed his own eyes, the sight of Oban lazily fondling himself was playing havoc with his composure. Opening them again he murmured, "Feel your nipples."

There was a gasp as Oban followed the instruction. His slender fingers slid over the sensitive nub and then back, gasping again as a nail grazed the edge. As the sensation began to flood his body Oban's hands became more sure, more sensual, gliding over ribs, firm strokes caressing hips and delicate inner thighs. Oban sighed and let his body melt back against the pillow, finally running hesitant fingers along the hard length of his penis. The image of Qui-Gon resting silent beside him, watching his every move sent a surge of pleasure through him.

His master's soft, lilting voice said, "That's right, enjoy it, Obi."

Oban's breath caught and he arched into his hand opening his eyes to gaze at his master as the climax shivered down his spine. His eyes locked on Qui-Gon's deep indigo gaze as he gasped and the orgasm ripped through him.

Qui-Gon slammed his shields tight over all but his most superficial thoughts and ignored his physical response as Oban's shining eyes poured trust and desire into his. A wash of pleasure permeated the Force around them. Reaching out he brushed damp hair away from Oban's face and smiled.

"Well done, Obi. How did it feel?"

Oban laughed shakily as his master gently wiped him with the soft cloth. "It felt wonderful." He grabbed Qui-Gon's hand and pressed his lips against the knuckle. "But I wish you had been with me."

"I was, Obi." He threw the cloth across the room and pulled the covers over them. "Shh, I know what you mean ... but this time was for you. I want you to be able to do this even if I am not there ... especially if I'm not there. You did beautifully." Reinforcing his approval and affection he sent Oban over the edge into sleep.

Qui-Gon lay watching the sleeping face of the ex-slave in the faint glow of the cabin lights. He looked so calm and innocent. Qui-Gon smiled, in many ways he *was* innocent, which he acknowledged was an odd thing to say about a pleasure slave. But Oban had lived for the past nine years locked away in a harem and while he had no doubt been subjected to sexual acts that would make the most sophisticated Senator blush, in all others ways he was as ignorant of the galaxy as babe in arms ... certainly more ignorant than any padawan could ever be.

Lying back and staring at the ceiling Qui-Gon admitted to himself that he had started down a path to which he could see no end. Perhaps Yoda would be able to see what lay in the future for them, though knowing the wily master he would not divulge what he did see, Qui-Gon thought with a fond smile. No matter what happened, Oban was his, Qui-Gon's, responsibility. Having broken Temple rules and accepted the lad as a gift, it as up to him to make sure he had made the right decision ... for both of them.

With a sigh he gave up trying to ignore his body and got out of bed. Oban was deep in a Force enhanced slumber. Qui-Gon leaned against the wall and let his gaze roam over the young man as his hands strayed to his erection. Oban was covered by a thin sheet that outlined the graceful line of hip and back, a shoulder and one arm were flung outside the sheet and Qui-Gon found his eyes drawn to the strong, slender hand where it lay open on the pale fabric.

Ignoring all his own advice the Jedi concentrated on bringing himself to orgasm as quickly as possible, his fingers following a familiar path as they found the sensitive underside and skimmed around the crown. Quickly he found his rhythm and leaned his head against the wall. He bit the inside of his mouth to silence the shout as he poured his seed into his hand and saw the image of a lost padawan behind his eyelids.

Oban stared at the small plastic bottle, pouring his concentration into his task as the perspiration trickled down his face. The bottle tilted and rocked, lifting infinitesimally from the table before it dropped back and fell on its side. Grabbing the bottle before it rolled off the edge of the table Oban set in back on its base and frowned. The worst part of this was that he knew he could do it. Deep inside he just *knew* that he could raise the bottle, or a rock or a person if it came to that, and move it smoothly with the Force. But no matter how hard he tried he seemed to fumble his mental grasp and lose control. He had the strangest feeling that he had done it before although he had no memory of doing so.

He sighed. That was the problem. He had no memory of so many things. In the harem it had never occurred to him to wonder what his life had been like before the Traders found him. Now the empty space that was his childhood haunted him. His master said that the memories would return, that he needed to give it time, but Oban knew that time was running out. Tomorrow they would arrive at Coruscant. He would go with his master to the Jedi Temple and then he would he taken from his master. The Jedi denied it but, slave or no, Oban was no fool.

He had spent hours each day reading the data wafers his master provided for him. He had read about the history of the Republic, the role of the Senate, the history of the Jedi, and last night, the philosophy and organisation of the Jedi. Although the information he had been given was an overview, Oban was intelligent enough to understand that neither the Jedi nor the Republic condoned slavery and that one freed slave was as a grain of sand in the scheme of things. Once, being given to a Jedi who would take him away from the Traders and make him free would have been the height of Oban's dreams, but now that it had happened he was afraid.

His master was the most amazing being Oban had ever encountered. He was kind and gentle, he was teaching Oban things that he had never dreamed of ... how to fight, how to use the Force ... and for the first time he felt valued and safe. Oban knew that his master was a *Jedi* Master, that he roamed the galaxy as an Ambassador and peacemaker ... what use would he have for a pleasure slave. Especially a pleasure slave that he refused to touch.

Oban smiled. That was not quite true. Although his master had refused to have sex with him, he was becoming increasingly affectionate. Having never been touched except for sex or punishment Oban was coming to love the firm, gentle weight of his master's hand on his shoulder, or ruffling through his hair. Having experienced such warmth, Oban was terrified of having it snatched away.

To his bewilderment his master was distressed to learn that Oban was unable to pleasure himself. On the second day of their journey Oban made a deal with his master ... if he could learn to do this he would be allowed to pleasure his master before they arrived at Coruscant. So, each evening his master had added lessons in masturbation. Oban was familiar with sexual tutoring and these lessons were a time of familiarity in days of otherwise alien classes.

This was the last night before they reached Coruscant and Oban intended to have his night with his master... it could be his last chance. Taking a deep breath and shunting his fears to the back of his mind, Oban cleared his thoughts and began the focussing exercises his master had taught him.

Qui-Gon returned to the cabin and smiled at the sight of the ex-slave kneeling in meditation. A careful scan showed that the young man was floating in a light trance, thoughts calmly moving in harmony with the Force. His smile turned to one of pride. Who would have thought that in only eight days they could have accomplished so much.

The Jedi master sat at the desk intending to finish his report to the Council but he found himself contemplating the man before him. Oban had easily mastered most of the tasks set for him. Although Oban's mind refused to remember his former self, his subconscious seemed happy to release his early training. Admittedly he was far below the level of a twenty-two year old padawan, but on the other hand he was a little more advanced than the thirteen year old he had been when he was lost ... at least in the areas they had worked on together.

Qui-Gon stared at his dataslate. He would have to report on Oban as well. He began to make notes, ordering his thoughts as he committed them to file. The question was, what would the Council decide to do with Oban? Qui-Gon had promised the lad that he could remain with him but in truth the Jedi was not at all sure that he would be able to keep that promise.

He had hoped that Oban would regain his memories quickly after the inhibitor collar had been removed but that hope had been dashed and now he was placing his faith on the healers, especially Master Scal. There had been moments when Qui-Gon thought the memories were returning. Oban increasingly knew about life as an initiate and a young padawan, but it was a distant knowledge, as though he had known someone who lived that life not as though he had lived it himself. And once or twice he had made a comment that could have only come from a Jedi.

Turning off the dataslate Qui-Gon shed his outer tunic and joined Oban in his meditations allowing his thoughts to flow side by side with his companion's.

As usual, after they had eaten, Qui-Gon handed Oban the reader. Tonight the wafer held an overview of the current Jedi Council, along with images of the Temple and a briefing on Jedi routine and etiquette. While Oban was reading Qui-Gon returned to his reports. He finished the mission debrief but decided that the report on Oban was better presented in person.

Qui-Gon was doing a final check of his work when a movement caught his eye and he looked up to see Oban heading for the bathroom. The Jedi let himself watch the lithe body cross the cabin, a slight hitch in his breathing the only sign of the effect the sight had on him.

This trip to Coruscant had been both a delight and a torment to the Jedi. Taking Oban through the meditations and exercises had rekindled Qui-Gon's love of teaching and their shared physical exercises and sparing had reminded him how much he missed by being away from the Temple for months at a time.

The allure of the young man, however, was potent and their nightly lessons in pleasure tested Qui-Gon to the limit.

After several nights Oban began to touch himself freely and Qui-Gon sensed a weakening of the inhibition against the act. On the fifth night he sent Oban to bed and went to speak with the Captain. Telling Oban to begin touching himself while he was gone Qui-Gon kept a light touch on the young man's mind. Prompting Oban gently when he sensed his diffidence and sending occasional suggestions, Qui-Gon completed his conversation with the crew and stayed chatting with the pilot for extra minutes. As he made his way back to the cabin Qui-Gon wondered what the crew would have thought had they known that the Jedi Master was sending erotic images to his travelling companion while discussing astronavigation with them.

Entering the cabin beside his own Qui-Gon had observed Oban through the Force, guiding and encouraging and wrapping him in affection and praise when he came down from his climax. The next night he again left the cabin and guided Oban through his lesson, but last night he had been able to withdraw and allow Oban his privacy, only reentering the cabin when he sensed the release that Oban was too distracted to shield. Drawing the young man into his arms he was lavish his approval and delight and for the first time they had fallen asleep pressed together.

The closing of the bathroom door roused Qui-Gon from his musing. Oban had returned to the main room. Wearing the gold trousers and moving with a hip-swaying glide he held Qui-Gon's eyes as he reached the centre of the cabin and sank to his knees. Lowering his forehead to the floor he placed his hands beside his knees and waited for his master to speak.

Qui-gon placed his head in his hands and closed his eyes trying to gather his composure. Oban had not worn the alluring garment since the first day of the trip and he had not knelt to him since the second night. Remembering Oban's request when he had last knelt, Qui-Gon felt a surge of desire streak through him.

Oban remained silent and still and Qui-Gon went to kneel before him. "Obi. What are you doing?"

"I crave your indulgence, Master." Although his head remained bowed Oban's voice was clear and firm.

"Please look at me, Oban." Qui-Gon placed a hand on his shoulder and urged Oban to rise. "What do you want of me?"

Oban sat back on his heels but he kept his eyes lowered. "I ask that you allow me to please you, Master."

Qui-Gon looked at the tawny head bent before him. "Obi ... "

"You said I could, Master." Oban reminded him, wary but determined. "I have learned my lessons in self-gratification. Please let me ... I want to." He slid his hand forward until it just rested against his master's knee.

When Qui-Gon didn't speak Oban looked into his eyes and saw need, and sorrow. "Please, Master. Let me show you ... " Wanting to dispel the pity he sensed, Oban leaned forward and kissed his master.

As the firm mouth moved on his, Qui-Gon's hand shifted to Oban's arms but instead of pushing him away he simply held the young man. Oban bit gently at his master's lips asking for entrance and when Qui-Gon sighed he invaded his master's mouth with an agile and determined tongue.

Taking Oban's head between his hands Qui-Gon gently moved him away. "You don't have to do this, Obi. You can trust me."

"I do trust you, Master." Oban kissed his master's hand and tried to catch his thumb in his mouth. "I *want* to do this. I have wanted to since the first night."

Surprising Qui-Gon with a sly flick of Force, Oban leaned forward again. This time he pressed his body against the Jedi's, taking possession of his master's mouth and burying his hands in the long, silky hair. Oban allowed his shields to fall. Qui-Gon shivered as he felt lust that was underpinned by a desperate devotion and need.

Suddenly Oban stood and held his hand to his master. "Please, you promised."

Unable to resist the temptation Qui-Gon took Oban's hand and rose to his feet. Still holding his hand Qui-Gon followed the ex-slave ... ex-padawan ... to the bedroom. The Jedi's senses were held by the provocative sway of hips clad in shimmering gold and the faint scent of sweet spicewood. Sparing only a passing thought for where Oban could have found the perfume Qui-Gon tugged gently on Oban's hand and pulled the other man into his arms. Running a fingertip along Oban's jaw he bent and kissed him.

Oban let his head fall back and sighed into the mouth that was ravishing his ... at last. Clutching his master's shoulders he rubbed seductively against the body that had begun to torment his dreams. Wanting to feel flesh Oban slid his hands into his master's tunic and, pushing the fabric aside, he squirmed against his master's broad chest.

Without releasing the mouth under his, Qui-Gon moved across the room and tipped them onto the bed. He could feel as Oban reached bare himself. He took hold of Oban's hands and raised them to his lips, nipping at the fingertips. "Leave them on for now, Obi."

"Master?" Oban ran his hands over his master's skin, tracing along the line of his collarbone and pushing the tunic over his shoulders.

"I like them." Qui-Gon let his hand delight in the feel of satin moulded to Oban's muscled thighs.

Oban lay back and watched his masters hands stroke and caress. A shiver ran through him as his master bent to kiss his throat and lap at his shoulder, long strands of hair sliding over hyper-sensitive skin. He had been with others who had coaxed a response from his body but never had he found himself eager for their touch, arching and gasping at just the whisper of an exhaled breath, the gentle glide of seeking hands.

Qui-Gon propped himself on his elbow and looked down at Oban, brushing bright hair back from sweat sheened skin. The young man was lying, panting softly and staring up at the Jedi with wide, trusting eyes. As he watched Oban's eyelids drooped a little and he rolled onto his side and hooked his fingers into the waistband of his trousers.

Qui-Gon pulled him back and again stilled his hands. "Not yet."

Oban looked questioningly into his master's eyes, then his eyes slid down to the cream training pants. "Yours then." And before the Jedi could respond Oban had slithered down the bed and was tugging the pale fabric down long legs and tossing it to the floor. Sliding back up his master's body he gave an approving sigh and nuzzled into the soft skin where hip and torso met.

Fire raced through Qui-Gon. He reached down to run his fingers through Oban's hair and sighed, "Obi."

"Please ... let me, Master." The young man's voice was husky with need. He rubbed his head against his master's fingers then returned to licking towards his goal.

Qui-Gon watched the tawny head as it assaulted his senses. One hand was clenched into the pillow beside him while the other continued to pet and fondle Oban's head and shoulder. He wished he could see his partner's face but was reassured by the joy that was spilling from his mind. With one warm, wet swipe of his tongue Oban shattered Qui-Gon's control and a deep moan welcomed the eager mouth as it closed around him.

Bringing every ounce of skill and training, Oban set about driving his master to the edge of distraction. Humming happily as he relished the pleasure lighting the Force around them he mumbled objection when he was seized in a firm grip and dragged back up to be comprehensively kissed. Realising what was wanted he moved to lie on his stomach only to be pulled back into his master's arms and rolled onto his back.

With the last of his control Qui-Gon eased his knees to either side of Oban's, holding them together, well aware that the other man was expecting to be fucked. Slicking his cock with a wisp of the Force Qui-Gon leaned down bite gently on Oban's shoulder as he slid between the young man's thighs. Qui-Gon was raised slightly, leaning on his elbows as they rested on either side of Oban's head. The position allowed him to watch the other man and to kiss or bite as he chose, it also gave him leverage to thrust between satin covered thighs while his hips brushed tantalisingly over Oban's genitals.

Oban was moaning and rolling his head back and forth. This was how you had sex with a virgin, or with a woman who did not desire to conceive. As an experienced pleasure slave it was beneath his dignity, almost an insult, yet with this man it filled him with shivering pleasure. Instead of the driving insistence of penetration he was being tormented by sensations that teased, then faded only to tease again. He was awash with pleasure, his body given over to passion and his mind filled with the joy and care his master was exuding.

As his climax tore through him Qui-Gon buried his face against Oban's shoulder, a deep groan muffled against smooth skin as he collapsed onto the body beneath him.

His own erection now crushed against his master's belly, Oban ran his fingers through the long hair that was spread over both of them, combing it back to flow across the Jedi's shoulders. He ran his hands over as much of his master as he could reach, enjoying the warm, heavy body that pressed him into the mattress.

After a long moment Qui-Gon regained his breath and eased himself back onto his elbows. He smiled down at Oban. "I've ruined your clothes."

Oban shook his head. "Buy me another pair." He wriggled against Qui-Gon. "You feel good, Master."

Qui-Gon shifted his hips. "So do you, Obi." He slid his hips languidly across Oban's cock. "What have we here?" With a sly smile into the glittering eyes below him Qui-Gon pushed himself up and settled his elbow beside Oban's hip. "Now this is nice." He brushed his fingers over the hard ridge straining against the silky fabric. "But I think it's time we got you out of these." Taking the waistband in his hands he peeled the clinging satin off and tossed it to the floor.

Leaning back over Oban he bent to press a kiss against the jutting hip bone. Smiling up at the young man he took the hard cock in his hand and ran his thumb over the glistening tip before leaning down to replace fingers with his tongue. Holding Oban's gaze, he bent and took the head into his mouth.

Oban whimpered. Qui-Gon smiled to himself and began to lavish his considerable experience on the man beneath him.

Caught between delight and a hazy feeling that his master shouldn't be doing this to him, Oban was able to do nothing but moan and enjoy the sensation. He felt an insistent touch on his thigh. His master's voice penetrated the cloud of pleasure he was floating in.

"Open for me, Obi."

Automatically he obeyed that voice and was vaguely surprised to feel the warm mouth on his penis swivel and his master's body settled between his legs. Raising his head he murmured when he felt fingers stroking between his legs. Instinctively he raised his hips and was rewarded by the fingers sliding over delicate skin and back to tease the opening to his body. Expecting his master to move back over him he squirmed as a finger slid gently inside. The invading finger moved carefully, stroking and seeking, and then withdrawing to be joined by a second. All the while the wonderful sensation of his master's mouth sucking and licking continued.

Qui-Gon could sense the expectation in Oban's mind. He smiled as he let his fingers nudge inside Oban's body. Overcome, Oban began to thrust. Qui-Gon laid his other hand on the young man's hip to control the wilder thrusts, then he began to hum. Caught between two overwhelming sensations Oban fell over the edge and arched as his orgasm took him.

The Jedi slid back up the bed to look at Oban. The young man was lying sprawled back, his arms outspread and chest heaving. Qui-Gon smiled and brushed his hand along a damp cheek. Deciding that Oban wasn't going to regain coherence in the immediate future Qui-Gon went to fetch a pitcher of water and a towel. When Oban came to, Qui-Gon handed him a glass of water and joined him under the covers.

The next morning they meditated after first meal as usual. At mid morning Qui-Gon began packing. As he tossed clothes into the pack he looked across the room. Oban was wearing Qui-Gon's old training pants, the only clothing he had apart from his, now slightly soiled, gold slave pants. He could do nothing about footwear but Qui-Gon held up one of his tunics wondering whether it would be too ridiculously huge on the lad.

Deciding that it probably would he settled on his second robe and hoped they would be allocated a landing platform close to the Temple. Oban watched his master pack. Last night had been beyond his wildest dreams. His emotions swung between delirious joy and resigned misery. It had been bad enough to believe he was going to lose the first person who had ever seen him as more than a slave, now he knew he was also losing his perfect lover.

Qui-Gon finished his packing and went to sit beside Oban. He could sense the emotional turmoil and anxiety in the youth and his heart went out to him. Taking Oban's hand in his he projected support and affection. "You should try one of the breathing exercises, Obi. It will be easier if you can settle your emotions."

A rather dejected voice answered him. "Yes, Master."

The Jedi smiled as Oban closed his eyes and resolutely followed instructions. Qui-Gon left him to his meditations until the little transport swung into the Coruscant atmosphere. Breaking in on the trance he told Oban they had arrived.

It was a calmer young man who stood beside his master watching the glittering planet grow huge and disappear into a vista of towering buildings and bustling skyways. Qui-Gon put his hand on Oban's shoulder and squeezed gently. "It *will* be all right."

Oban nodded, then asked. "Do you have a padawan room in your quarters?"

Surprised Qui-Gon said. "Yes, it has been empty for more than ten years now."

"Then they will probably let me stay with you, at least for a while." Oban gazed thoughtfully out over the busy skyline. "I wonder what Master Yoda will see in my future. He was always nice to me." When there was no reply Oban looked up into his master's face. Seeing the astonished question Oban frowned. "What is it, Master?"

Picking his words carefully Qui-Gon asked, "What do you know about Master Yoda, Obi?"

His frown deepened. "He is the head of the Council isn't he?" When his master nodded, he continued, "That's all really. There wasn't very much in the data, just that he is very wise and can sometimes sense the future in the Force."

Qui-Gon carefully slid across Oban's thoughts. There was a jumble of images of the Temple and several Jedi, some of whom Qui-Gon didn't recognise. "Yes, that's true. Yoda was my Master. He sometimes intimidates the young ones for all that he is no taller than they are." Oban nodded, his frown faded to a puzzled look.

Their ship was gliding to a platform that was usually reserved for Council members or visiting dignitaries. Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow but said nothing. He shook out his robe and swung it around his shoulders, handing the second one to Oban. "The first thing we need to do is get you some boots."

Oban gave a muffled laugh, "Not to mention trousers and tunics."

"Especially gold trousers?" Qui-Gon suggested.

Oban's eyes flew to his master's and he smiled shyly at the teasing glow in their midnight depths. "Yes, Master. Though I think I can save the pair I have."

Qui-Gon opened his mouth to speak, then decided against it and placed a swift kiss on the top of Oban's head. "Courage, my Obi. We are home."

Qui-Gon walked across the landing platform, his pack bumping against his hip, Oban pacing at his shoulder. Apart form the ex-slave's bare feet and shoulder length hair they could have been any Master and Padawan pair returning to the Temple. Three figures stood waiting for them. Masters Windu and Gallia, unmoving in Jedi brown and cream and Master Schal in his healers blue. Qui-Gon suppressed his amusement as he sensed the councillors relief at Oban's appearance. What had they expected? A half naked youth, painted and bejewelled?

All three waiting masters sent discrete probes over the Oban's thoughts. Qui-Gon felt his discomfort and intensified the reassurance he was wrapping around the young man. Bowing formally Qui-Gon greeted the masters and placed a hand on the small of Oban's back, pressing him gently forward. "This is Oban. I believe you were expecting him."

Mace bowed. "We were indeed. Welcome to Coruscant young man. I am Mace Windu, this is my fellow Councillor Adi Gallia, and Master Healer Schal."

Oban returned the bow, his hands hidden within his robe, his eyes lowered.

Meeting Qui-Gon's eyes Schal said. "I am pleased to meet you Oban." Lifting his hand he asked, "May I?"

Oban sent a confused look to his master. Qui-Gon kept his hand firmly on Oban's back and explained, "Master Schal would like to run a quick scan ... to see if you are injured."

Still confused but conscious that his master wanted him to agree Oban nodded and felt a delicate touch skim over his mind.

Schal stood unmoving for a moment then smiled. "Thank you, Oban. I can sense nothing that requires immediate attention. Perhaps Master Jinn will bring you to my office after you have settled into your quarters."

Qui-Gon nodded gravely to the healer. "Thank you, Master Schal. We will visit you after noonmeal." He turned to the councillors. "May I present my report to the Council after we have finished with Master Schal?"

Mace and Adi exchanged glances then nodded. Mace smiled, "It's good to have you back, Qui-Gon. Master Yoda is eager to speak with you... and to meet your young friend."

Qui-Gon bowed consent and shepherded Oban off the platform and into the Temple. As they made their way through the endless corridors he touched Oban's shoulder lightly. "Don't be so worried, Obi."

The youth's expressive eyes lifted to his but Oban simply murmured a dutiful, "Yes, Master."

Steering him into a huge room that contained a long counter and seemingly endless racks of shelving Qui-Gon began ordering clothing. Oban's eyes grew wide as he listened to the growing list of items his master was requesting ... pants, tunics, shirts, trousers, sleeping clothes, training gear, socks, boots, shoes, robes ... and bedding for the padawan room. At this last Oban shot a worried glance up at his master.

Qui-Gon ignored the anxiety seeping from his companion until they had resumed their walk to his quarters. Indicating the small pile of clothes in Oban's arms the Jedi said, "That should keep you going until they send the rest to our rooms."

"*Our* rooms, Master?"

"Certainly. You heard Master Schal. You are to stay with me, at least for the present. He added slyly, "Unless you would prefer to have your own room?"

A flare of panic, "NO...no, Master."

"I didn't think so. Don't worry about things that haven't happened yet." They were rising through the tower in an elevator that made the enormous height disappear in seconds. The door slid open and Qui-Gon continued down yet another corridor.

Oban padded beside his master. "What *is* going to happen?"

Qui-Gon stopped and pressed his hand to a small plate beside a nondescript door. Ushering Oban into an airy room he tossed his pack into a corner and his robe over the back of a chair. "Home, Obi. You can out your things through there." He gestured to a door on the far wall.

Going to the room Qui-Gon indicated, Oban looked around. It was small, holding only a bed, a tall bookshelf and a chest of drawers. A window took up almost all of one wall and showed a spectacular view of the Coruscant skyline framed by the towers of the temple. Oban had never had a room of his own before. He placed the clothing on the bed. A room of his own... the concept was both appealing and frightening. Shedding the robe his master had loaned him, Oban returned to the main room and placed it over the robe his master had worn.

Handing Oban a small mug Qui-Gon sighed. "It's good to be home... such as it is." He sank onto the big sofa and tilted his head. Looking up at Oban, Qui-Gon repeated the other man's question. "What is going to happen?" He smiled and patted the sofa next to him. "First, you are going to sit down." He waited until Oban had done so. "Next you will change into your new clothes... then we will eat... and we will visit Master Schal to see whether he can do anything to help you regain your memories ... and *you* will stop worrying and trust me."

Oban hung his head. "Yes, Master. I'm sorry, Master."

Qui-Gon reached out and ruffled the soft, tawny hair. "There is no need to apologise. I understand that this is all new and frightening." His hand came to rest against Oban's neck. "I don't know what will happen in the long run but for now we will continue your lessons, and add some new ones if you like. Obi ... " Qui-Gon paused. Was he just replacing one sort of servitude with another? Did this young man have any desire to learn Jedi ways? "Obi, I will be here for as long as you need me, but you must tell me what you want."

*As long as you need me.* Oban swallowed, did that mean that his master was only teaching him these things so that he could send him away? Looking down at his hands curled around the pale mug he said softly, "I want to be with you, Master."

"I know, Obi. And I like having you with me, but ... " Qui-Gon studied the grave face beside him. "Oban, would you have preferred to have stayed on Gatharn, or perhaps gone to some other world?"

Oban's eyes flew to his masters face. "No! Whatever happens I will always be grateful to you for taking me from that place."

Qui-Gon's fingers were rubbing gently against Oban's neck. "Do you want to continue our lessons?" A nod. "Would you like to do other lessons?"

A slightly more hesitant nod. "I think so ... only I don't know what they would be."

Qui-Gon smiled. "They could be almost anything you want. There are instructors in the Temple who can teach you anything from Zvaelan music to pre Republic politics to hyper-reality mechanics." Catching the look of bewilderment Qui-Gon smiled, "But I was going to suggest perhaps philosophy and maths for a start."

"Maths... I was good at maths." It was said in a thoughtful tone but before Qui-Gon could respond Oban continued, "What will happen if I never regain my memories?"

"Then we'll find something else for you to do. Something *you* want to do. And no matter what happens I promise you that you will have a place with me as long as you want it." He rubbed the drooping shoulder. "I give you may word." Qui-Gon poured sincerity and comfort into the Force and pulled Oban into a hug. "But you *will* regain them. I am certain that you are meant to be here."

Oban looked up at his master and reached out instinctively to search his aura. After a moment he sighed and relaxed against the broad chest. He could feel the support and affection and although he was still unconvinced he was determined to enjoy his master's presence while he could.

Qui-Gon hugged Oban tightly then sat up and pointed him to the padawan's room. "Now, go and put some clothes on while I will prepare the food.

Master Schal was waiting when they entered the infirmary. He smiled at Oban and gestured towards his colleague. "We would like to run some tests while I talk to Master Jinn." Oban's only experience of medical procedures were painful and invasive and he shifted closer to his master, fear radiating from him.

Qui-Gon met Schal's eyes and said, "If you don't mind I would prefer to observe the procedures."

Schal nodded agreement and shooed away the other healer. "Why don't I do this?"

Letting Master Schal lead him to a stool beside a table containing a variety of mystifying instruments and computers, Oban whispered, "Thank you, Master." Qui-Gon pulled a second stool closer and sat beside Oban. Taking his hand and stroking it lightly with his thumb Qui-Gon continued to talk softly as the healer worked.

Schal watched the pair as he carried out a variety of tests, none of which caused more than minimal pain, much to the ex-slave's amazement. The healer also discretely monitored the body language and mental communion between the two. By the time he had passed the data to a technician and ushered the pair into his office he had reached some conclusions that caused him to smile inwardly.

Sitting behind his desk Schal said, "Now I *do* need to speak to each of you privately." He held Oban's eyes and said gently, "I would like you to wait in the next room, Oban. No one will disturb you and Master Jinn and I will be right here if you need us."

Qui-Gon added, "It will be all right, Obi. This won't take long."

Oban nodded reluctantly and went to sit in the small ante chamber. He felt at ease with Master Schal but in his experience when people discussed you it usually ended with unpleasant consequences.

Schal waited until the door clicked shut then he turned to Qui-Gon. "All things considered that young man seems remarkably undamaged. We need to wait until the brain scans are processed of course, and he will need counselling... do you want me to do that?"

Qui-Gon nodded, "If you would Schal."

The healer rested his hands on the desk top and stated.

"He hasn't regained his memories."

"No." Qui-Gon's voice was bleak.

"None of them?"

"None that relate to himself. He seems to be remembering things about the Temple, and he said something about Master Yoda. But otherwise ... no."

Schal considered, "What about physical skills? Mace said you were going to meditate with him on the trip home."

Qui-Gon nodded. "Yes. Meditation came naturally to him, as did some of the focussing and balancing exercises. And physically it's as though he never left. I didn't have another lightsabre but otherwise..."

"His body remembers but his mind doesn't ... or can't ... or won't." Schall tapped a finger against the desk. "I won't know for sure until I've seen the results and talked to him, but there is nothing *obviously* wrong. You said he was wearing an inhibitor? Did you bring it with you?."

"Yes. It's in my pack. I was going to show it to the Council. I imagine they will want it examined."

"So do I." The healer held Qui-Gon's gaze. "What about sex?"

Taken aback by Schal's bluntness Qui-Gon glared at him. "I beg your pardon?"

Schal smiled faintly. "Sorry, Qui-Gon. I didn't mean to throw that at you. Let me put it this way ... sex is the only thing that boy knows. I imagine he expected you to have intercourse with him."

Regaining his composure, Qui-Gon agreed. "Yes, he approached me several times."

"And what was your response?" The healer watched the indignation flit across Qui-Gon's face. "I'm not accusing you, Qui-Gon. But I need to know before I speak to him."

Qui-Gon nodded. "I rebuffed him at first. Later he was in some distress and I ... encouraged him to masturbate." Taking a deep breath and blushing slightly he added, "And on the last night we ... engaged in mutual masturbation."

Schal was watching him closely. "And you feel guilty."

"Yes." Qui-Gon sighed. "I should have been stronger. He's so..."

"Seductive?"

Qui-Gon nodded, "...and innocent. It's sad."

Schal nodded. "Yes, it is." He smiled reassuringly, "I think I should schedule some time with you too, Qui-Gon."

Qui-Gon sighed again. "Have I caused him more damage?"

"No. Given his background I doubt it. Of course if you had made enthusiastic use of his talents it would be a different matter. However, he obviously trusts you. I think you have done a good job under difficult circumstances." Schal smiled, "Don't be too hard on yourself, Qui-Gon."

"I'll try not to, Master Schal." Qui-Gon shot the healer a wry smile.

The healer stood, "You have always had a tendency to allow guilt to assume too much importance." He laid a hand on Qui-Gon's shoulder and went to the door. "Would you come in now, Oban."

Oban reentered the office and looked anxiously at his master. Qui-Gon smiled. "Your turn, Obi."

The healer said, "Do you want to wait, Qui-Gon?" I could send Oban back to your rooms when we're finished."

Seeing Oban tense, Qui-Gon shook his head. "I'll wait."

Apart from Oban's obvious desire that he remain close, Qui-Gon did not want the risk the lad coming face to face with anyone who recognised him as he returned to their quarters alone.

Schal's interview with Oban lasted much longer than the one with Qui-Gon. Falling into a light trance while keeping part of his mind open to Oban's, Qui-Gon thought about the trip back to Coruscant. They worked well together. Better than many master/apprentice pairs Qui-Gon thought with a slight smile. There was trust between them, and affection. If only Oban could break free from his conditioning. His shielding was excellent too. When the masters had tried to probe him on the landing platform he had been distressed but had maintained faultless shielding of all but his outermost mind.

With a start Qui-Gon came out of the trance. If Oban's shields had held against the Councillors and Master Schal, why had *he* been able to feel the lads emotions? To be able to selectively open your shields was a skill most padawans didn't master until they were in their senior training. The only other possibility was the formation of a bond.

When Schal opened the door to call Qui-Gon back into the office he found the master staring blindly at the wall in front of him. "Qui-Gon?" He had to repeat himself before he caught the master's attention. "We are finished for the moment. I have asked Oban to see me tomorrow morning, if that suits your routine?"

Qui-Gon nodded absently. "Of course."

Schal peered closely at Qui-Gon then nodded. "Good, I'll expect you at tenth hour Oban."

Qui-Gon was silent as they walked through the Temple.

Out of the corner of his eye he could see that Oban was casting anxious glances up at him and he could sense his anxiety clearly through the Force. As a test he closed his shields. They had only taken three paces when Oban laid a wary hand on his arm.

"Master? What's wrong?"

Opening his shields again, Qui-Gon sighed as he felt the young man relax. "There is nothing wrong, Obi. I was thinking." It was looking as though they had formed the faint beginnings of a bond. "I have to speak to the Council now. I would like you to stay in our rooms until I return."

"Can't I go with you?"

"I would prefer that you wait here." They had reached their quarters and Qui-Gon palmed open the door. "I have to report on the treaty on Gatharn. I shouldn't be too long. You will find plenty of things to read or watch or listen to. Make yourself at home." He smiled reassuringly and left the room, aware that Oban was standing in the middle of the room staring forlornly at the closed door.

As he entered the Council chambers he was contemplating the almost childlike demeanour that slavery had engendered in Oban. He was trusting and yet wary ... knowing, yet innocent ... so needy ... a sponge ready to soak up love and affection. Adopting his best 'serene master' expression he presented the report on the Treaty negotiations, adding the Trade Clan's gift of a Force adept slave as an addendum.

There was a moment of silence as the Council considered the report then Ki-Adi-Mundi asked, "And this young man is Padawan Kenobi."

Qui-Gon turned slightly, "So it would seem. He has not regained his memories as yet."

Ki-Adi-Mundi was about to speak again when Yoda tapped his stick on the tiled floor. "Saw great promise in young Kenobi, I did. Glad you have found him we are."

Qui-Gon bowed. "It was the will of the Force."

Mace raised his eyebrows at his friends words. "Let us hope he can regain his memory. The question is - what are we to do with him?"

A babble of discussion arose at that with several councillors declaring that he must resume his training if his memory returned. Cutting across the arguments Qui-Gon asked. "And if he does not regain his memory?"

That produced a silence, then a more hesitant stream of comment. The general opinion seemed to be that he should be trained in some other discipline if he did not remember. Qui-Gon could feel Yoda's eyes fixed on him, along with Mace's and Adi Gallia's.

Yoda tapped for attention. "A Jedi he will be."

A low murmur filled the chamber. Mace changed the subject. "Did you assess his training on the journey, Qui-Gon?"

Inclined his head in silent thanks for giving him his opening Qui-Gon replied, "Yes. I took him through junior padawan exercises in meditation and control. I believe he is at least at the level he was when he was kidnapped. His physical skills are formidable." Seeing the evil glint in Mace's eye, Qui-Gon frowned at him. "I was unable to test his 'sabre skills but in unarmed combat I would say he is close to, if not beyond, others of his age. He is strong and balanced and is regaining his grounding in the Force. Of course he has lost nine years and his academic training has been nonexistent."

Mace nodded, "We shall have to see what Master Schal has to say about his memories. Until then you are to continue his training. Confer with the teaching masters about his academic studies. You have an empty padawan room so I suggest he take up residence with you until the matter is resolved."

"Is that wise?" The councillors turned to Yarael Poof.

"This young man has been a sex slave since he was an adolescent, would it not be advisable to give him his own rooms?"

Qui-Gon's voice was bland. "I have suggested that to Oban, but he prefers to stay with me."

Mace added, "Master Schal has recommended that he be left in Master Jinn's care since he is the only person Oban knows on Coruscant. Schal recommends the boy should be allowed to remain where he feels secure."

As there were no further comments Qui-Gon bowed and left the chamber. Before hehad reached the outer doors Mace's voice halted him. "Qui-Gon, just a moment. I wanted to be certain you were comfortable with these arrangements."

"Comfortable? I'm not sure that is quite the word to describe it. I do think it is the only possible arrangement. I am his only ... " Qui-Gon searched for an appropriate word, "Scurity ... the only person he knows here. It would be cruel to send him to a stranger."

"That is what the Traders did to him."

Qui-Gon's face was grim. "Yes, it is. I could have been a monster."

Mace asked, "Would you prefer to let someone else take care of him?"

"No. I like him, and he needs me." He smiled sadly at his friend. "I intend to take him as my padawan you know."

"I rather suspected you did. The Council won't approve it unless his memories return," Mace warned. "We understand that this is an unusual situation, Qui-Gon. It is as well that the Force gave this to you rather than some of our more hide-bound knights. We know that you have this young man's best interests at heart."

Qui-Gon blinked at this uncharacteristic support of his methods. "Thank you, Mace. My faith is all with Master Schal. I don't believe Oban will regain his memories without assistance."

On the way back to his rooms Qui-Gon heard his name called. Turning he saw a tall young woman with a padawan braid hurrying toward him. She bowed politely. "Excuse me, Master Jinn. Is it true that you have found Obi-Wan?"

Reflecting that it was almost impossible to keep a secret in the Temple, he prevaricated, "We are not sure yet. Were you a friend of Padawan Kenobi?"

She nodded, "Sort of. I knew him, but it's Bant who was close to him. She contacted me last night and said she'd heard a rumour and could I check it out." The girl blushed, "Oh I'm Zella Liu."

Qui-Gon smiled, "Well, Padawan Liu, I assure you that there will be an announcement when we find out who this young man is. In the meantime you should treat the rumour as just that, a rumour. He needs time to heal, whoever he is. Please don't spread this any further until we know."

The padawan looked abashed and nodded. "Yes, Master Jinn."

He said gently, "It is all right. I understand your concern for your friend but it would be counterproductive to raise expectations at this time."

Qui-Gon entered his rooms to see Oban sitting staring at a holoviewer, a puzzled frown on his face. The sound of boots on the floor pulled the young man's head up and a happy smile replaced the frown. The master went to stand behind Oban.

"What are you glaring at?"

The holo was of a group of young padawans. "I know these people." A slender finger pointed to a Mon Calimari. "That's Bant." His finger moved over the faces naming all but one, a golden haired boy who was grinning at the camera a model of a starrunner in his hands. "These are Jedi children...padawans." He turned to look up at his master. "How can I know who they are?"

Placing his hands on Oban's shoulders he shook the slender body gently. "I said I thought you had been trained by the Jedi." Qui-Gon reminded him.

Oban frowned again. "But if I remember them, why don't I remember me?"

"I don't know, Obi. But I have faith in Master Schal."

Qui-Gon smoothed his finger over the line between the wide blue eyes. "And Master Schal said not to try tos force the memories."

After a final scowl at the holo Oban turned it off and leaned his head back and relaxed against his master. "Are they going to let me stay with you, Master?"

Silently apologising for the half truth, Qui-Gon said, "Yes." He felt to wild flare of joy that raced through Oban and tightened his hands momentarily before stepping back. "It is past time we were thinking about dinner. Do you think you can manage to arrange something?"

Oban nodded happily and raised one of his master's hands to his lips before retreating to the little kitchen. Qui-Gon stared after him then flicked the holoviewer back on. He looked at the group of padawans, his eyes rivetted to the unnamed golden haired boy. Knowing exactly what he would find Qui-Gon switched on the text. There in the middle of his peers was Obi-Wan Kenobi.

On to the Next Part