Master Apprentice Archive Quick search:

As he walked through the Temple corridors, Qui-Gon mused on Schal's words. The healer was right, it was too late to be holding himself back because he was afraid of using the lad. Qui-Gon's pace slowed as he pondered. They might be lovers but that didn't alter the fact that Oban was an ex pleasure slave with no memory of his early life in the Temple, or the that Qui-Gon hoped to take him as his padawan. In the Jedi's mind either of those facts meant that he should not be having sex with Oban. Still, as Schal had so succinctly pointed out, it was too late to close the gate now that the horse had bolted.

Intimate relationships between a master and padawan were not unknown of course. And the Council was unlikely to inquire into the private relationship unless it interfered with the training relationship or became a public scandal. Qui-Gon sighed, always assuming that they allowed him to train Oban. The portents were good but it was by no means a foregone conclusion.

He reached the door to his quarters and rested his hand against the gleaming wood. This place had always been his safe haven, his retreat, for the first time it also felt like home. He could sense Oban's warm and welcoming life force within the space.

When he entered the room was again lit by just the wall lamps. And again there was music, this time mellow and relaxing. Qui-Gon looked to the sofa again, and again found it empty. But tonight there was no semi clad youth framed against the night sky. Tonight Oban was sprawled on the rug in front of the sofa. Two cushions had been dragged to the floor with him, one supported his shoulder and the other his head. A dataslate and a scattering of 'readers formed a semicircle around the lad together with a half-drunk mug of cha and a plate that had clearly held sweet biscuits. Qui-Gon stood looking down at the sleeping youth.

Nothing Schal had said drove the point home quite like seeing Oban asleep amongst the paraphernalia of study. Dressed in light pants and tunic he looked exactly like the padawan he should have been. And just as he would a young padawan who had worn himself out, Qui-Gon picked the youth up off the floor and carried him to bed. Oban murmured and shifted as Qui-Gon moved him. His eyes fluttered open and he smiled hazily up at Qui-Gon before the Jedi nudged him gently back into sleep.

Qui-Gon stood holding the young man in his arms before laying Oban on the bed and swiftly stripping the clothes from him. For a long moment he stood looking down at the young body revealed to him. Qui-Gon's face was unreadable as he took in the perfect proportions and flawless skin. With careful hands he pulled the covers over the lad and brushed a soft caress over his cheek. After a last look from the doorway he returned to the common room and a long night of meditation.

Oban woke to the morning sun streaming into the room. He was alone in the bed. Stretching a hand to the spot where his master had slept, he realised that the other side of the bed was cold and that the sense of his master's presence at least a day old.

He thought about the previous evening. After Master Stanell left he had yawned over a passage in the molecular chemistry text. The last thing he remembered was lying on the rug with a cushion bunched under his chin and a plate of sweet biscuits within easy reach. His master had obviously carried him to bed and undressed him. A soft smile came to his lips at the thought. Slowly the smile turned to a frown ... his master hadn't joined him in the bed. Panicking, he reached out through the Force, slightly reassured as he felt the familiar touch in return. Without stopping to dress Oban slid out of bed and went to find his master.

Qui-Gon heard bare feet padding across the room and turned to have a naked Oban land in his arms. The young man wound his arms and legs around him clinging to the Jedi as he buried his face in the older man's shoulder. "Shh, it's all right Obi. What's the matter?" He stroked his hand down the trembling back. Relief poured from the young man. "I'm here, it's all right."

Clutching the rough fabric of his master's tunic and nuzzling his cheek into his master's neck, Oban savoured the warmth and strength of the big body that held him. With a blush he slid to his feet and glanced down his naked body. "I'm sorry, Master."

Qui-Gon brushed the shaggy fringe out of Oban's eyes, "There is nothing to apologise for, Obi." Then he turned him towards the bedroom, "But I suggest you get dressed before we meditate."

Oban smiled shyly and went back to the bedroom, aware of his master's eyes on him as he crossed the room. As he pulled on his tunic, Oban closed his eyes, remembering the warm glow in the dark blue eyes.

When he had woken alone he'd been afraid. Afraid that Master Schal had spoken to his master and that his master had been displeased by what he had heard. Most of Oban's conversations with the healer were about his memories but Master Schal always set aside time to ask how he was adjusting to the Temple. Oban was shy of speaking of the intimate aspects of his relationship with his master and he felt that it would be disloyal. But Master Schal never pushed further than he was willing to go and Oban found himself confiding his hopes and fears. Having someone simply listen and support him was a new experience for the ex-slave.

With a quick glance in the long mirror to check his clothes Oban headed back to the common room.

That day's session with Master Schal continued the healer's work reintegrating Oban's memories. Qui-Gon sat with his hands on Oban's shoulders, monitoring the state of both Schal and Oban's minds. When the healer withdrew, he sat back and rubbed his temple smiling reassuringly at Qui-Gon. "I think that's enough for now."

Qui-Gon returned the smile, "I think this is as hard on you as it is on Oban."

Schal poured himself a glass of water, "It's certainly tiring." He smiled as Oban blinked and sat up. "How do you feel, Oban?"

Oban stretched his neck and shoulders, "All right I think, Master Schal." He stood and his brows drew together.

"What is it, Obi?" Qui-Gon put a steadying hand on the young man's shoulder.

There was a frown and a shake of his head then Oban moved closer to his master, "I just feel a bit ... " He tilted his head, "I don't know ... unsettled. It's as though ... " his voice trailed off.

Schal handed Oban a glass of water, "We might have made some new connections. Just let it settle and we'll talk about it tomorrow, Oban. Now go and get something to eat."

They were joined for noonmeal by Mace Windu. Qui- Gon watched with pride as Oban responded to the councillor's questions. He also endured patiently as Mace ran a light scan over his mind, the only sign of tension being Oban's hand clutching Qui-Gon's under the table.

Joining the pair for their afternoon training session the councillor watched as they warmed up and then ran through the basic katas. He nodded in approval as Qui-Gon began to instruct Oban in the fifth kata. Oban's natural skills were every bit as impressive as Qui-Gon had reported; he was strong and graceful and his attention was focussed and intelligent.

When they had finished and were towelling themselves down Qui-Gon sent a wave of approval to Oban as Mace patted the youth's shoulder. "Well done, young man. We'll make a Jedi of you yet." With a smile at the stunned expression on the boy's face, he turned to Qui-Gon, "I think it's time you introduced Oban to the Council. I'll arrange a time with you after I've spoken to Master Schal. Well done, both of you." And with that the councillor left the training room.

Oban turned to his master to see a wide smile on his face. His own astonishment turned to pleasure. "Does that mean I can be your padawan, Master?"

Qui-Gon planted a kiss on Oban's forehead, "It means Master Windu thinks so." He ruffled Oban's sweat damp hair. "Is that what you want, Obi?"

Eyes sparkling, Oban nodded, "Yes, Master."

"It will mean a lot of work. And you won't reach your trials until you're past thirty. You will still be a padawan while younger Jedi are knights." Qui-Gon warned him.

Oban nodded again, "I understand, Master."

They donned their robes and headed back to their quarters. "Do you remember anything about the padawan classes?"

Oban walked silently while he thought, then he shook his head and said slowly, "Not really."

"What about your master?"

Oban's eyes shot to his master's face, "My master?"

"Before you were kidnapped you had another master, another Jedi."

"I don't ... " Oban stopped in his tracks.

Qui-Gon propelled him forward with a firm hand against the small of his back. "It's all right, Obi." He could sense the turmoil in Oban's thoughts, traces of screams and flames, of fighting and then of overwhelming loss. Sliding carefully into Oban's thoughts, he steered the lad away from the chaos, blanketing him in warmth and comfort. "Don't worry."

Kicking himself for bringing up the subject of Oban's master at such an inappropriate time and place Qui-Gon was relieved when they reached their quarters. Turning Oban to face him he asked, "How are you feeling?"

Oban's expression was puzzled but he smiled trustingly into his master's face, "Tired, and a little confused."

Qui-Gon took the robe from Oban's shoulders, "That is only to be expected. Now, I think a long, hot shower is in order." He brushed a finger down Oban's cheek. "If you go and start, I'll hang these robes up and be right with you."

Oban had taken two steps towards the bathroom when his master's words spun his head around, "Master?"

"Unless you'd rather shower alone?" Qui-Gon asked innocently.

Oban saw the wicked gleam in his master's eyes and ducked his head, "Yes, Master."

It was Qui-Gon's turn to stare. He was relieved to see the grin that curved Oban's mouth as the younger man turned and headed for the shower.

As he stripped and tossed his training gear into the laundry hamper, Oban found that he was nervous. He turned the water on and adjusted the temperature, fiddling to get it just right, then he pulled fresh towels from the cupboard and set them on the bench. Taking a shaky breath Oban stepped under the water and turned his face up to the warm flow. He closed his eyes and tried to release the tension that was quivering through him.

Everything he wanted was coming to him. What was there to be nervous about? This was his master, his tall, strong, kind, gorgeous master. And he was coming to him, Oban, without any need for persuasion or seduction. Oban felt the realisation shiver through him. His head fell back and he gasped as big hands settled on his hips.

Qui-Gon had entered the bathroom to see that Oban was already under the shower. The Jedi shed his clothes, his eyes fixed on the pale, alluring silhouette behind the misty screen. Opening the screen Qui-Gon stepped in and slid his hands along Oban's smooth sides. At his touch Oban gave a shuddering gasp and let his head fall back against Qui-Gon's shoulder. The taller man wrapped his arms around the strong, young body and pulled Oban against his chest. As he bent to kiss Oban he felt the shivers that were running through the youth.

"Obi?" Qui-Gon rubbed his hands along Oban's arms, soothing and caressing. He could feel the tension in the other man's body, feel the muscles quivering under his fingers. He took a half step back, "It's all right, Obi. If you don't want ... "

"NO!" Oban turned in his master's arms, "I mean, yes ... yes I want you." He clung to the arms that held him. "I'm just nervous. I've never wanted to be with anyone before, and here you are ... you came to me." Oban's voice got softer and softer and his forehead came to rest against his master's chest.

Qui-Gon bent forward to catch the whispered words. His lips were on Oban's hair when he asked incredulously, "Never?" Oban shook his head. The breath caught in his throat as Qui-Gon took Oban head between his hands and turned the handsome face towards him. "It can't all have been horrible. Didn't any of them think of your pleasure?"

Drowning in the gentle passion he saw in his master's eyes, Oban shrugged. "Only if it suited them. Mostly they didn't care and some of them liked to hurt." He saw the dark shadow of pain cross the Jedi's face, and the disgust. "It is a slave's place to serve."

The simple words and the acceptance in Oban's voice broke Qui-Gon's heart. He pulled Oban hard against him, holding him close and stroking his hair as he said, "I am a Jedi Master. It is my place, my *duty*, to serve. And it is my honour and my pleasure to serve and protect you, Obi."

The slippery body squirmed from his grasp. Oban took hold of his master's shoulders and looked him squarely in the eyes. "No, Master," he said firmly, "you must not ... "

Placing a hand to Oban's lips Qui-Gon gave a shaky laugh, "Let's not argue about it, Obi. As lovers it is our place to give each other pleasure."

A deep sigh emanated from the young man. "Lovers!" There was immense pride and satisfaction in his voice.

With a nod Qui-Gon reached for the soap. "Lovers."

He lathered his hands and began spreading the pine scented foam over the young man's shoulders, down his arms and across his chest and belly. Then Qui-Gon knelt and began to soap the strong, elegant legs.

Oban stared down at his master as the older man knelt at his feet, running sensuous hands over his body, teasing and soothing as he went. The ex-slave was stunned that this man would do this, that he would want to touch him like this. He reached a tentative hand down to stroke his master's hair. Indigo eyes looked up at him and Oban was struck dumb by the desire and the devotion he saw. He sank to his knees and ran wondering hands over his master's face, adoring fingers mapping the crooked nose and prominent forehead.

His fingers came to rest on the harsh silk of the Jedi's beard. He leaned forward and placed a reverent kiss on the sensual mouth.

Qui-Gon closed his eyes as his mouth was brushed by soft lips. He licked at Oban's lips until they open for him then he stood, lifting the younger man with him, and allowed himself the pleasure of thoroughly ravishing Oban's mouth. As they embraced the water pattered over them running in rivulets and torrents until finally Qui-Gon leaned back and shook his hair over his shoulders, saying ruefully, "The Temple Resources committee is going to be questioning my water usage again."

"Then it must be time for me to wash you, Master." Oban ran his hands over the tall frame and long limbs before him. The only response was a happy, "Hmmmm" and Oban was deciding whether to indulge himself or pamper his master when he was taken in a firm grip and placed against the tiles.

"Master?" Oban wriggled his shoulders against the slick wall, the Jedi's hands firm on his hips, one lean thigh pressing against his groin.

Qui-Gon licked at the water that trickled over Oban's chest, stopping to suck at each nipple before sliding lower to nip at the tender skin of his belly and nuzzle into the crease between thigh and hip. Oban was making soft, husky gasping noises. The sounds sent sparks through the Jedi. He sat back on his heels to look up into his lover's face. Brilliant teal blue eyes gazed down at him, lids slipping closed as Qui-Gon took the younger man's solid phallus in his hand.

Oban felt as though the Force enveloped him as his master closed long fingers around his straining cock. He was overloaded with sensation, held between the cool tiles at his back and the strong, gentle hand grasping his core. The hand began to move. Blunt, capable fingers held and fondled him, warm and compelling. With a shuddering gasp he found himself staring into eyes that spoke of desire and possession. He watched as indigo turned to sable and passion flared between them.

His master's hair was slicked back from his face accentuating his leonine profile. Oban had only a moment to marvel at the power and beauty of the man before he was drawn into his mouth and swallowed whole.

Qui-Gon let the need and the sensuality transport him. He felt the emotions flow between them, sex and sensuality bound by tenderness and trust. Oban's devotion was a tangible presence in the room and he met it with his own deep affection. Wrapping his hands around Oban's hips he held the pliant body still and almost withdrew only to plunge down again and again.

Oban's hands were scrabbling at the wall as he sobbed his release. He felt his master move and was hugged tight against the hard, slick body as the Jedi pressed his erection against Oban's belly. One big hand settled on the small of his back and held him as the bigger body flexed and thrust against him.

Qui-Gon groaned and bent to Oban's mouth, his tongue taking possession as he sighed and came.

Silently they washed each other, hands quick and efficient. Oban turned off the water. Qui-Gon stepped out of the shower stall and held one of the towels ready to wrap around the clean and contented body of the younger man.

Oban found himself in a bundle of fluffy towelling, being picked up and carried to their bedroom. As he set his burden down his master began vigorously rubbing him dry.

Oban squirmed as determined hands dried off every inch of him and then rubbed at his wet hair until it was merely damp.

Emerging from the towel breathless and glowing Oban motioned his master to sit on the edge of the bed.

Qui-Gon dried himself as he watched Oban collect his brush from the dresser. The young man wandered unselfconsciously naked around the bedroom and Qui-Gon drank in the sight of him. "Have I told you how beautiful you are, Obi?"

Blushing faintly, Oban dipped his head. "Do you think so, Master?"

Qui-Gon caught and kissed him, a sweet, lingering embrace. "Oh, yes."

Oban climbed on to the bed and sat behind his master. Gathering the damp, tangled hair he kissed the nape of the Jedi's neck. He slid his legs around his master and began slowly smoothing and brushing the mane of hair.

"As are you, Master."

It was a perfect start to the day. Qui-Gon woke with the warm, hard curve of Oban's spine pressing against his side. Reaching out from habit and training to taste the Force he found the myriad signatures of the Temple and the glowing presence of Oban close by. Without opening his eyes he shifted and curled around Oban's sleeping body.

Sometime later Oban woke to find his mouth claimed by his master and his body covered. His master was plastered to him, skin to skin, heat to heat as the pleasure bloomed between them.

Firstmeal was a quiet, companionable affair. During their morning meditations Qui-Gon finally acknowledged the bond between them. Reaching through it to touch Oban he showed him how to access the bond and, when necessary, how to block and shield it. Oban seemed somewhat in awe of the bond but he followed his master's instructions with a slightly timid mind touch. Satisfied that the bond was properly established Qui-Gon emerged and smiled at the look on Oban's face.

"It is all right, Obi, really. It is only a deeper, more personal version of the connection between all Force users."

His expression turning thoughtful, Oban examined the sensations and nodded. "Yes, I see. But I can *feel* you, Master."

"As long as the bond remains between us we can sense each other ... if one of us is injured or distressed ... as we get more familiar with the bond and with each other we will sense more of each other's emotions. Some bonded pairs develop a limited kind of telepathy, a sense of what the other is thinking." He stood, shutting down the bond a little. "We will have to decide for ourselves what level of openness we are comfortable with. And it will vary according to the situation."

Oban nodded. "Yes, Master. Otherwise it would be like having a constant noise in your head."

"Master Schal will be able to advise us." Qui-Gon was pleased that the lad understood and had not been offended by his slight withdrawal.

Qui-Gon and Oban appeared before the Council that afternoon. Oban was nervous but calm. Confident in the support of his master and Master Schal, he stood at his master's side, hands clasped lightly, head tilted slightly forward, silent and assured.

Mace Windu smiled as he welcomed Oban and introduced the councillors. "We are pleased to hear of your progress."

Yoda nodded. "Very welcome here you are, young Oban." His big eyes twinkled up at Oban. "Wish to stay with us you do? Hmmm?"

Oban's voice was sure, "Yes, Master Yoda."

There was a subliminal sense of communication between the councillors then they began firing questions at Qui-Gon and Schal. Oban listened, his eyes flicking from councillor to councillor. Some of them sounded unsure but he could sense no animosity.

With a look at Schal, Qui-Gon took a small step forward, his hand on Oban's shoulder. "I ask to be allowed to take Oban as my padawan learner." He sensed the start of surprised pleasure from Oban and his fingers tightened on the young man's shoulder. The simple question silenced the councillors. Schal shot Qui-Gon a rueful grin and said, "In my opinion Oban is ready."

Adi Gallia asked gently, "Oban, is this what you wish?"

"Yes, Master Gallia." His elegant voice was firm.

She smiled, "You understand what will be required?"

"I believe so, Master Gallia."

Qui-Gon said, "Oban remembers much from his childhood here in the Temple."

Depa Billaba asked, "But he doesn't remember everything?"

Schal stepped forward. "Not yet, however I believe that we are close to a breakthrough." The healer looked at Oban and smiled. "But even if Oban never remembers his original name he *does* remember the important things, the lessons and the connection with the Force."

There was a murmur around the chamber. Yoda tapped his stick on the floor. "Trust Master Schal's judgment I do. And Master Jinn. Padawan, Oban may be. Report to us regularly on your progress."

Qui-Gon and Oban bowed to the councillors and left the chamber, followed by Master Schal. The healer walking beside the younger man. "How do you feel, Oban?"

Oban thinned his shields and there was no doubting his pleasure. "Proud, Master Schal, and happy." He looked at his master and said earnestly, "Thank you, Master. I will be worthy."

"I know you will, Obi." Qui-Gon allowed his affection and support to flow through the bond. "I am proud of you, my Padawan."

The day after the Council meeting Qui-Gon and Oban went to dinner with knights Eletha and Frensam. Oban showed a little natural shyness but was soon at ease with the friendly couple. Although Oban showed a tendency to defer to his master it was no more than what might be expected from a dutiful padawan. Qui-Gon was happy to see that in all other respects he was simply a young man enjoying a night with friends.

The next day they altered their routine slightly so Qui- Gon could take Oban through the first 'Padawan Induction' class, and Shay Eletha joined them in the training room to allow Oban to experience a different fighting style. Qui-Gon also began to introduce Oban to more areas of the Temple. Oban was especially drawn to the gardens and spent an hour with Master Yoda in the High Garden.

While Oban was with Yoda, Qui-Gon conferred with Schal. Sooner or later Oban would have to join the general Temple community and Qui-Gon knew that the padawans who remembered Obi-Wan were impatient to meet him.

Schal agreed with Qui-Gon, until Oban either remembered who he was or had been told there could only be confusion from a meeting with people from his past. His meeting with Shay Eletha and Ti Frensam was a start and Master Stanell was considering who to introduce as a second tutor.

Meanwhile the Council had a task for Qui-Gon. His training of Oban withdrew him from the field for the coming months but that did not mean that his considerable experience need be unavailable. That evening, while Master Stanell worked with Oban, Qui-Gon sat at his desk reviewing the Council's data and beginning his research.

When Stanell left Oban brewed cha and returned to the common room with the cha and a plate of small fruitcakes, then he settled back on the sofa with a mug in one hand and a 'reader in the other. His master was working on something at the main comm unit and smiled his thanks for the cha before turning his attention back to the screen.

Oban worked through the exercises Master Stanell had set him. His master was showing no signs of finishing whatever it was he was doing so Oban began to look up the history of the gardens in the Temple. They were such a surprise in this vast, contrived complex; small, lovingly tended pockets of life in a vast maze of stone and glass and plasteel.

Many of the records he accessed had footnotes that led to information about the Jedi who planted or designed or were simply associated with the gardens. An idea formed and Oban began to search for the records of padawans who would be about his age. Nothing. He searched the archives for information about trainees and initiates at the time he would have been in the Temple. There was some information, but it was all general, he couldn't find anything specific about anyone who might be him.

And then it hit him. A master and a padawan had disappeared, presumed killed, surely there would be *something* in the records. But the query came back 'no data'. Oban frowned. Obviously his access to the information had been restricted. He looked across the room to where his master was sitting. Master Schal said that he needed to remember on his own but surely...

Oban entered a request for the masters who had died in the appropriate time period. He scrolled through the names, letting each one settle into his mind. Would he recognise the name when he saw it? Some of the names seemed vaguely familiar but nothing reached out and... Del Temlana. Oban stopped. Master Temlana. He accessed the entry and was presented with a biography.

Scrolling to the end he was faced with the stark words: 'Lost in action' followed by the date of the memorial. Paging back he was confronted with a screen of text. Before he could begin reading, words leapt into his mind. Pirates ... Freighter Marlova ... Padawan ...

Suddenly he was in a dark, noisy, cramped corridor. People were screaming and cursing. Acrid smoke made his eyes water and his breath rip through his throat. A grating, snapping noise came from behind him and a blast knocked him into the bulkhead. His master's hand grabbed him and spun him around the corner, her solid presence reassuring him and helping him focus. A lightsabre was in his hand and his master's purple blade flashed at the corner of his eye. He could sense her every movement, knew where she was going to be, what she wanted him to do. Back to back they fought in the haze of smoke, the smell of death and hot metal teasing at his concentration as presence after presence left the Force, many screaming in agony.

Finally there was silence. Only he and his master still stood against the shadowy figures that blocked the entrance to the corridor. Side by side now they deflected blaster bolts. Then the presence beside him simply disappeared. One minute his master was solid at his side and in his mind, the next he was alone and the shadows were overwhelming him. His 'sabre was swatted from his hand as something closed around his neck and agony descended.

Qui-Gon had closed all but his outermost shields when he sat down to work so that he wouldn't disturb, or be disturbed by, Oban and Stanell. It wasn't until he heard a soft moan that he realised something was wrong. At the sound his head snapped up and he looked across to the sofa where Oban was sitting. Only he wasn't there any more. From where he sat Qui-Gon could see no sign of the young man but he could hear the low, wailing moan. Lowering his shields he felt misery and pain.

In a thought Qui-Gon was across the room and kneeling beside the sofa. Oban was bent double, his hands clutching his throat, fingers clawing and tearing at something that wasn't there. Red streaks marked where his nails had dragged over pale skin and blood was beginning to ooze in places. Oban was rocking up and down in tiny, staccato movements, his eyes staring agonised into nothing, his mouth a gaping wound in a face turned ashen.

Qui-Gon reached out to pull Oban into his arms but the other man jerked away from his touch, fingers curled in defensive talons. "Obi! It's me, Qui-Gon. Your master. Shh ... it's all right." The words made no difference. Oban's eyes stared at him in unseeing hatred and fear. His body convulsed and that awful, anguished moan continued.

Trying to reach Oban through the bond, Qui-Gon poured soothing waves of affection and safety to him as he went to the comm unit and called Master Schal.

When the healer's face appeared Qui-Gon said, "Can you get here right away. Something's happened to Obi."

Hearing the anxiety and the agitation in the usually serene voice Schal simply nodded and the screen went dead.

Qui-Gon sat beside Oban and held the writhing hands away from his neck. Oban snarled and struggled to break his hold, panic and despair rolling off him. He scanned Oban's thoughts and recoiled at the pain and terror. Carefully Qui- Gon sent a Force compulsion to relax and then pulled the limp body against him, stroking and murmuring comfort as he waited for the healer to arrive.

When the door chime sounded Qui-Gon eased Oban back against the cushions, casting an worried glance at the pale, cowering figure. Schal took one look at Qui-Gon and went to Oban. Running gentle hands over Oban's face and neck he asked, "What happened?"

Qui-Gon said "I was working at the comm unit and Oban was doing the exercises that Master Stannell set him." He picked up the 'reader, "He must have finished and decided to do some research. He found Del Temlana's obituary."

"It obviously triggered his memories of the capture." Schal laid a hand on Oban's neck and healed the scratches and bruising. "It is a pity it happened when we weren't ready for it. But frankly I'm not surprised that it's been so traumatic for him. The very fact we haven't been able to make a significant breakthrough suggested that there was barrier."

Qui-Gon watched as the healer focussed and felt him slide into the turmoil of Oban's thoughts. For long minutes the two stared at each other then Oban let out a sigh and slumped back as Schal stood and smiled shakily. Qui-Gon tested Oban's thoughts and was relieved to find them sorrowful but calm. He seemed to have fallen into a light sleep so Qui-Gon moved him until he was laying on the sofa and placed a cushion under his head.

Schal sank into a chair. "He'll be all right. I've broken him out of the flashback but he will need to work through the memories and the guilt."

"Guilt? Because he survived?" Qui-Gon frowned.

The healer nodded, "Classic reaction. Add the fact that he wasn't able to deal with it at the time. I think the real work is only just beginning." Schal ran his hands over his face. "Could I have a drink, Qui?"

"Of course. Hard or soft?"

"Can I have a glass of water and then a long shot of something extremely alcoholic."

Qui-Gon gave him the water and poured two glasses of brandy. Placing a cushion on the floor beside Oban he sat and absently stroked the tawny hair. "So now what? What state will he be in when he wakes?"

Schal shrugged, "It's hard to say. He will have to deal with the things he has remembered. There is likely to be grief obviously, and guilt. Probably some degree of disorientation at first. He's going to have to reintegrate the memories, and I doubt whether he's remembered everything. He'll most likely be dealing with fragments."

The two masters sat in silence for a time, drinking the brandy and watching Oban as he slept. Qui-Gon turned back to Schal to see that the healer's eyes had moved to him. "It isn't your fault, Qui-Gon."

Qui-Gon looked down at his glass then back at Schal. "If I hadn't closed my shields I would have known sooner what he was doing. I might have been able to spare him some of the anguish... or at least offered support."

"Why were you shielded?"

"Obi was studying with Vel Stanell. He tends to forget to keep his shields up when he's excited or absorbed in something and I was doing research ... " Qui-Gon trailed to a halt. "All right, I know what you're going to say. It was perfectly reasonable to be shielded."

Schal smiled. "Then I won't say it. Blaming yourself unnecessarily won't help Oban." He put his empty glass down and stood looking down at Oban. Pulling a hypo from a pocket he pressed the spray to Oban's neck. "Let him sleep the night out. I've given him something to relax him. Call me if you need to."

Qui-Gon stood. "Thanks, Schal."

Schal looked up at the taller Jedi. "Do you need anything?"

Qui-Gon shook his head. "I can put myself to sleep if necessary. But I'd rather be alert in case Obi needs me."

"Fair enough, but get some sleep, Qui. You'll be no good to anyone if you wear yourself out. You are in for a stressful couple of days, unless I much mistake the situation." Schal patted Qui-Gon on the shoulder and smiled as he left.

Qui-Gon looked down at Oban then sighed and picked him up. He carried Oban into the bedroom and quickly undressed him. Putting him in a pair of sleeping pants before settling him under the covers. For a moment Oban lay where he had been placed then he sighed and turned on his side, snuggling into the pillow.

Fixing himself a mug of spiced cha, Qui-Gon sat staring out at the night sky, clearing his mind and relaxing his body. When he finally joined Oban the lad was sleeping curled on his side, his dreams amorphous and unthreatening. Qui- Gon slept with the bond open and twice woke to ease Oban out of nightmares of blood and fire, remaining awake each time until he was sure that Oban's sleep was undisturbed.

Oban was already out of bed when Qui-Gon woke.

The Jedi master lay for a moment listening, there was silence from the other room but he could sense Oban's presence.

Qui-Gon rose and dressed quicky, reaching out with the Force as he brushed his hair and tied it back. Oban had all his shields firmly closed. The bond pulsed quietly between them but it was too new to tell Qui-Gon much about the other man's state of mind. That Oban was tense and unhappy was all too evident from his general aura. Still it was encouraging that the bond was still there, a severe emotional trauma at this early stage could easily have severed the bond entirely.

Oban was sitting before the comm unit frowning with frustration. Qui-Gon stood just inside the room watching as Oban read the data on the screen. Oban's focus was rivetted to the screen, his head leaning forward, one hand hovering over the entry pad. Not wanting to startle the lad, Qui-Gon sent a gentle pulse of affection and smiled as Oban's head twisted to face him. Oban's eyes were haunted, the mixture of misery and confusion tugged at Qui-Gon and he took a step forward.

Oban scrambled to his feet and lowered his eyes. "Good morning. Master." He wanted to throw himself against his master's chest, he wanted to sink through the floor. It was bad enough when he was just a pleasure slave, now he was a failed padawan who had let his master get killed.

By the time they reached Master Schal's office Qui-Gon was seriously worried. During their morning meditations Oban had been unable to release his emotions to the Force and any attempt to enter a trance resulted in the violent memories overwhelming him. After three attempts Qui-Gon called a halt and sent a mild relaxation compulsion to the young man. Over firstmeal Oban had been subdued, his anxiety muted but present. Instead of his usual unselfconscious affection and vitality Qui-Gon sensed a desperate, despairing longing.

When Qui-Gon had asked if he wanted to talk about what he remembered, Oban had simply shaken his head his eyes lifting briefly to meet Qui-Gon's. Unwilling to push the matter Qui-Gon smiled reassurance and turned the conversation to the day's activities. Alarmed by Oban's despondency Qui-Gon sent support and affection and kept a tactful watch on the lad until they reached the Infirmary complex.

Schal ushered Oban into his office and smiled sympathetically at Qui-Gon. The tall Jedi returned the smile wanly and raised a questioning eyebrow. The healer held Qui- Gon's eyes and shook his head slightly as he closed the door.

Qui-Gon settled into a chair, took a dataslate from his pocket and set about coordinating Oban's padawan induction. After almost an hour the door opened and Schal joined Qui- Gon in the waiting room.

Answering the Master's questioning look Schal said, "He's fairly upset at the moment. I have done some work shoring up his self esteem until he is over the initial trauma, and I took him through the some relaxation exercises. He's asleep at the moment."

Qui-Gon tried to read the healer. "Is he all right?"

"Yes and no. He remembers the attack and Master Temlana's death... he's grieving." The healer smiled sadly, " But it *does* seem to have persuaded him that he is, or at least was, a Jedi. It has given all those vague memories he had some sort of focus."

"And he still doesn't remember who he is?"

Schal shook his head, "No. And he feels he has failed. That Temlana's death is his fault."

Qui-Gon looked grave, "So what do we do now? What do *I* do?"

"Keep doing what you have been doing. Support him. Teach him about the Jedi. Let him know that we're not perfect ... or infallible." Schal stared at the door, considering the young man inside. "I think we should stop the probes for a while but I'd like you to go ahead with giving him information about people he used to know. I'll prepare bios of padawans about his age - nothing too detailed, just something to spark some memories. I'll send them to you this afternoon. I think we should nudge the remembering along now that he has remembered the capture."

"Very well." Qui-Gon scrubbed his hands through his beard.

Schal placed a hand on Qui-Gon's knee. "It's going to be a hard couple of days for both of you. Keep him busy, both mentally and physically ... and don't withdraw from him. He's going to need support ... and he needs to know you accept him."

Qui-Gon nodded. "The Council isn't going to like this. Not right after they allowed him to become a padawan."

"Probably not. I'll talk to Master Yoda."

Qui-Gon's smile eased at that and he nodded again. "Yoda does seem to have a soft spot for Obi."

Schal stood, "Yoda has a soft spot for both of you."

They followed their usual routine with Qui-Gon adding a visit to the gymnasium prior to the afternoons training session. He was pleased to see Oban send a shy smile to a group of initiates who were also using the gym but distressed by the way the lad seemed to shrink under the mildly curious gaze of the Jedi they passed in the corridors. And the lad was unusually quiet as he bent his attention to the tasks Qui-Gon set him. There was a muted desperation in his desire to please.

Qui-Gon maintained his customary serenity. Sending his support and affection to the younger man, correcting and praising him as they worked. When they finished the exercises, he patted Oban's shoulder, letting the hand rest for a moment as he smiled down into Oban's worried eyes. Oban leaned into the touch for a moment then withdrew and turned to pick up his robe.

For the rest of the afternoon Oban maintained his usual dignity and graceful poise but his aura thrummed with anxiety. After dinner Qui-Gon sat reading his mail, watching the interaction between Stanell and Oban and wondering what to do.

When the lesson was finished Stanell set Oban exercises as usual and bid goodnight to her pupil. As she was leaving she cast a meaningful look at Qui-Gon and said, "I have several names of possible tutors for Oban, I'd like your opinion Qui-Gon."

"Certainly, Vel. I'll speak to you in the morning."

The teacher nodded, "That will be satisfactory." Smiling again at Oban she bid Qui-Gon goodnight.

Qui-Gon turned to see Oban standing beside the desk watching him. "Come and sit with me Obi. We need to talk."

"Yes, Master." Oban felt his stomach twist. He had never really believed that he was going to be allowed to be a Jedi. If only his master didn't send him away. His eyes lowered, trying desperately to shield his turbulent emotions, Oban sat on the edge of the sofa.

Qui-Gon felt the drop in Oban's emotions. He poured two glasses of wine from the decanter on the sideboard and carried them to the sofa. Handing a glass to Oban he sat and looked at the young man. "What's wrong, Obi? Is it the memories of your capture?"

Gulping at the crimson wine, Oban straightened his shoulders and looked at his master. "I want to stay with you."

"Obi ... "

"Even if I'm not good enough to be your padawan ... please let me stay." He reached out towards his master then drew his hand back and wrapped it around the glass.

"Why would you think you are not good enough?" Qui-Gon asked gently. "Only two days ago that you were so happy to be my padawan. You believed you were worthy then. And so did I... so do I. Nothing has changed."

Oban was perched on the very edge of the sofa, his body tense. "Two days ago I didn't know I had let my master get killed."

"Obi, you were thirteen. There were only two of you against dozens of raiders." Qui-Gon laid a hand on Oban's thigh and rubbed it as he felt the muscle tremble.

"But they killed her ... and they captured me. And I don't remember anything." Oban's mellow voice was harsh with pain. "I should have died with her," he whispered.

"Obi, it is a master's duty to protect her padawan."

Qui-Gon moved to take Oban into his arms but the ex-slave shied away from him. "We are Jedi but we are not invincible ... and you were only a boy."

Oban shook his head. "I should have been able to save her."

Taking Oban's shoulders in his hands Qui-Gon turned the lad towards him. "There is no shame in being outnumbered. You are not the first Jedi to lose a battle and you won't be the last and you survived."

Shame clouded wide blue eyes. "At my master's expense."

"No! No, Obi. You were overpowered. They wanted you alive. It isn't your fault." Qui-Gon poured conviction into his voice and through the bond.

Failing to twist out of his master's grasp, Oban stilled and looked away. "You don't know. You weren't there."

"Then show me." Qui-Gon shook Oban gently. "Show me, Obi."

There was a moment's hesitation then Oban lifted his shields a little and Qui-Gon quickly scanned the memories. With the ease of training and experience the Jedi Master sifted through the chaos of the images. He saw how the two Jedi were hindered by the panicked crew and passengers. How Temlana chose her position, placing Oban so that he was partially shielded by her 'sabre. Saw the pair fend off dozens of attackers until they were finally overwhelmed. Felt Oban's panic as he lost his link with his master and in that moment felt the pain of the Force dampening collar as it closed around the boy's neck.

Oban looked up into his master's eyes. "You see. I let them do it."

Qui-Gon held Oban's gaze. "No. You did all you could. Sometimes the universe throws more at us than we can handle ... even with the Force." He pulled the reluctant body towards him and took Oban's face between his hands. "We do what we can. We do what we must. Master Temlana fought gallantly and so did you, Obi. I am proud to have you as my padawan."

"I don't want you to die because of me." The soft words were anguished.

"If I thought you were not capable I would not have taken you as my padawan." Qui-Gon looked deep into Oban's eyes. "I can help you, Obi. You *can* do this."

Oban sank into the limitless blue of his master's eyes, reading the support and determination. He drank in the affection that was pouring through the Force and through their bond. How could he disappoint this man? But how could he ever live up to his expectations?

Qui-Gon watched the conflict in Oban's eyes. "You don't feel as though you can do this at the moment because you have been overwhelmed by the memory, but you are strong. I have faith in you." He drew Oban towards him and kissed his forehead. "Trust me, Obi."

At the touch of his master's lips Oban sighed and leaned towards the older man. Strong arms held him and a firm hand rubbed along his spine. He wasn't convinced but if his master believed he could do it he was prepared to try. Oban soaked up the comfort of his master's physical and psychic presence. "I will try, Master, but I will understand if you feel I'm not good enough."

Oban's tone was humble and Qui-Gon suppressed an exasperated snort. "There is no try there is only do." He smiled wryly at Oban's startled expression. "Master Yoda can be infuriating but he is often right." He pushed Oban gently back until he was sitting against the back of the sofa. "Relax. I'm going to make us caf."

Oban's emotions were roiling. Determination to be a Jedi and to be worthy of his master conflicting with his guilt over Master Temlana's death and his shame at being a sex slave. He leaned back against the cushions and took deep breaths, calming his nerves and reaching for the Force to steady his emotions.

Qui-Gon felt Oban's emotional turmoil settle a little and smiled approval as he set the mugs down. Picking up his wine, he handed Oban his glass. "Obi, it is not easy to be a Jedi. Often our work involves danger and discomfort. Many people fear us, some even hate us. I can help you to be prepared but I cannot guarantee that you will always be successful." He could feel Oban's disquiet but also his trust. "We will do this Obi. Together we *will* do this."

Oban let his master's conviction wash over him. He nodded gravely, "Yes, Master."

They sat drinking and talking. Qui-Gon told Oban about his own experiences as an initiate and a padawan, and Oban hesitantly spoke of his few memories of his original master.

When the young man fell silent Qui-Gon ruffled his fingers through Oban's hair. "We should meditate."

Stripping to trousers and inner tunics the pair moved to the mat. Kneeling face to face, knees barely touching, they settled into a light trance. Feeling Oban's agitation Qui-Gon reached through the bond anchoring them together. He backed carefully out of his trance and said softly, "Reach out to the Force. Let it support you. Let your pain go." Continuing to murmur softly he led Oban deeper, sustaining and reassuring him as Oban relived the battle on the freighter, highlighting the enormous numbers of their attackers and the murky shadow in the Force that swirled around the raiders.

When Oban emerged from his trance he was exhausted. He still felt grief over Master Temlana's death but the crippling guilt was gone. Approval and affection washed over him and he raised his eyes to his master. The Jedi was watching him closely, a fond smile on his lips. Oban straightened and bowed his head. "Thank you, Master." He returned the smile, "I understand I think. But I'm still not sure that I could do any better."

Qui-Gon stood and offered a hand to Oban. "I doubt whether you could at this time. You have been away from us for nine years and done no further training. However you are an adult now. You have survived. There is time for you to catch up." He handed Oban the half empty glass of wine. "Part of being a padawan is learning how to face your fears...and how to look for different ways out of difficult situations. It is a time to learn many thing; about the universe, about the Force and about yourself."

Oban considered his master's words. He still had doubts. He still didn't know who he was. But the words made sense to him ... and they were his master's words. He nodded, "Yes, Master."

When they had both prepared for bed Qui-Gon turned to see Oban standing in the centre of the common room, his expression eloquent of indecision. "What is it, Obi?"

Oban couldn't find the words to answer but his eyes shifted between the door to the padawan's room and that to his master's bedroom. Along with the soul deep conviction that he had been a padawan, the memories had brought him the realisation that his behaviour as a pleasure slave was unsuitable for a Jedi. He finally understood his master's sexual reticence towards him. He had seduced the Jedi master into an inappropriate relationship. Although he hadn't been a padawan at the time he realised now that his master had always intended that he assume that role.

Now that he understood his master's reluctance Oban found that he shared it. He wanted to be with this man's lover but he wanted to be a Jedi too. Oban scoured his meagre memories and could find nothing that helped him. He had a vague recollection of classes on reproduction and sexuality ... so Jedi presumably were not celibate... but he recalled nothing regarding the morals or practices expected of him.

Qui-Gon correctly interpreted the conflict on the young man's face. "You may sleep where you choose, Obi. You are welcome to join me if you wish or you may use the padawan's room. It is your room after all."

Oban looked at his master. There was affection and the ghost of desire in the Jedi's expressive eyes. "I would like to join you, Master." Silly to feel so unsure after all they had done together.

Qui-Gon smiled, "And I would like you to be with me, Padawan." He saw Oban's surprise at his use of the title. "There are no rules against a physical relationship between master and padawan, so long as the padawan is of age. It is entirely up to you, Obi."

The words brought a frown to Oban's face. "Not entirely up to me, Master. If you don't want ... " He was swept up in a crushing embrace and kissed long and hard. Tension swept out of Oban leaving him tired and relieved.

"I expressed myself badly, Obi. I meant only to assure you that you were free to chose." He rested his head on Oban's. "As my padawan you must obey me, but as my lover you are free to do as you please."

Oban returned the hug, then stepped away and headed for the main bedroom. There was a sense of sleepy contentment radiating from the young man as he lay in the wide bed smiling lazily. Qui-Gon doused the lights and slid under the covers, pulling Oban against him.

Drowsy and content Oban rested against his master's chest. Enjoying the peace after his emotional turmoil Oban smiled as he felt his master's lips against his ear. The smile twisted as he felt the big body shift away from him. His master's arousal was evident through the bond and Oban rolled over and slid his hand down to capture the hardening penis.

"You need to sleep, Obi." Qui-Gon said shivering from the touch.

Oban moved closer capturing his hand between their bodies. "You said I could do as I please, Master." He tightened his grip as he rubbed against his master's body. "This pleases me."

Qui-Gon sighed as clever fingers teased him to his full length. A second hand appeared before his face and the Jedi pressed a kiss into the palm before thoroughly licking it. When the slick hand replaced the first he sighed again and wrapped his arms around Oban.

They rocked together, enjoying the play of warm skin and hard muscle. Oban's mouth latched onto Qui-Gon's throat and the bigger man's head dropped back as he gasped his release.

Qui-Gon held the young man tight against him while his heartbeat returned to normal. A tender smile lit his eyes as he realised that Oban had fallen asleep with his hand still clasped loosely around the softened penis. He shifted onto his back, moving Oban so that the tawny head was resting on his shoulder and opened himself to the Force.

The next morning Oban was sitting at the holoviewer when Qui-Gon ended his morning meditation. The young man didn't look up as Qui-Gon headed into the bathroom but when the Jedi returned Oban asked. "Will you tell me something, Master?"

"Of course. What is it." Qui-Gon moved to stand behind Oban.

"That's me, isn't it?" Oban was looking at the group of padawans he had recognised earlier. He pointed to the fair haired boy in the centre of the group.

Qui-Gon nodded. "Yes." He turned Oban to face him. "Do you remember anything?"

Oban shook his head, "Not really. It was Bant's name day ... that's all."

Running his fingers through Oban's hair Qui-Gon asked, "Are you feeling all right?"

Oban sighed, "I wish I could remember."

"Master Schal has sent some information for you to read ... information about your age mates. He hopes it will trigger some memories." Qui-Gon handed Oban a dataslate.

"We are not due to see Schal until ten, so you have time to start reading now if you want to."

Oban nodded and started scrolling through the files as Qui-Gon went to dress. The information consisted of brief biographies of nearly fifty young Jedi, the data was edited to end just before the initiates were chosen as padawans. Oban read quickly through the paragraphs, many of the names triggering flashes of memory. He was almost at the end of the list when he stopped and scrolled back.

*Obi-Wan Kenobi*

Like so many others the name had been familiar. Oban looked at the name and frowned. He reread the information, slowly and carefully this time. It *did* seem familiar. And his master called him Obi. But there was no flash of recognition ... no instantaneous knowledge that this was the right name.

He sat looking at the fair haired boy he used to be. Would he ever know who he was? Really know it in his heart and soul. The information said Obi-Wan had fallen at the age of eight and needed bacta to heal a long gash on his lower back.

Qui-Gon returned to the common room to find it empty. A quick touch to the bond located Oban in the bathroom. The door was open and Qui-Gon looked in. Stripped to the waist, his back to the mirror Oban was peering over his shoulder, twisting as he tried to see his back. "Obi?"

Oban's head turned to his master. "Master, do I have a scar on my back?"

Qui-Gon's eyebrows rose. "Yes. There is an old scar curving across your lower back." He moved behind Oban and ran a finger along the pale, narrow mark. "Here. It is very faint."

Oban closed his eyes. "Obi-Wan. My name is Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan Kenobi. Such a small thing to remember ... two words, six syllables ... yet so profound. *Oban* was a pleasure slave who didn't remember his childhood and had been rescued by a Jedi master. *Obi-Wan Kenobi* was a Jedi padawan who had been captured by raiders when only thirteen and seen his master killed. Which was he? Was he both? Would he ever be sure? Two names ... two lives ... two identities chased each other around in his mind.

The fact that one identity existed only as fragments of memory and a name helped not at all. That identity called to him, jostling with the reality he had lived with every day for the past nine years. Resolutely pushing his uncertainties aside Oban followed his master into the training room and lost himself in the joy of physical achievement.

Pride mingled with dismay as Qui-Gon watched his padawan. The young man almost shimmered with the Force as he moved. Remembering his name seemed to have given Oban an equilibrium he had lacked before but it had done nothing to ease the torment of loss that still ached through the bond.

His life before the Traders remained a mosaic that lacked most of its pieces Qui-Gon watched as the younger man flowed through the forms. He felt how Oban focussed on the moment, revelling in the joy of achievement and finding peace for the first time since he had relived the loss of his first master.

As Oban came to a halt Qui-Gon chose a training 'sabre from the rack and tossed it across the room, igniting his own 'sabre as he stepped forward to engage the young man. Without breaking his stride Oban caught the hilt and powered the blade, meeting the master's attack as the older man bore down on him.

It was the first time they had sparred using actual 'sabres. There were some similarities to working with the staves and Oban found himself reacting instinctively, blocking and deflecting his master's blade as the older man stepped up the attack.

Qui-Gon smiled approval as they fought, noting Oban's natural grace and instinctive talent with the weapon. Gradually he intensified his attack until he slid his blade under the other's guard and disarmed the younger man.

"Well done, Obi." Qui-Gon gripped his padawan's shoulder. "It's past time you began on your own lightsabre."

Pure pleasure lit the bright eyes for a moment then they dimmed as memories and doubt flickered through the ex-slave's mind.

Qui-Gon ruffled a hand through his padawan's hair, "And it's time we cut your hair. This is far too long for a padawan." He wound soft tresses around his fingers, "At least you will have a decent start on the braid."

When they had returned to their quarters and were seated for noonmeal Oban summoned the courage to address one of the issues that had been preying on his mind. His eyes fixed on the plate in front of him, a there was a faint tremor in his voice, he made himself say, "I understand now why you didn't want to have sex with me, Master. I seduced you into something you believed was wrong." He swallowed and raised his eyes. "I apologise and I will understand if you wish to stop. In fact I would prefer that you did if it is not what you truly desire."

"Never doubt that I desire you, Obi." Qui-Gon met the worried eyes squarely. "I have wanted you from the moment I saw you. My reticence concerned your vulnerability. Especially when I realised that you had lost so much of your memory." He reached over to take hold of his padawan's hand. "I was afraid that when you remembered you would feel I had taken advantage of you."

Oban searched his master's eyes and their bond. He nodded slowly, "I understand. But I know now that this is not the Jedi way."

Internally Qui-Gon cursed the Jedi obsession with presenting an unfailingly serene exterior to the world. "Some Jedi are ascetics and remain celibate Obi, but the vast majority are not. We enjoy the same relationships as anyone else. You were only thirteen when you were captured, too young to know much about intimate relationships. If you had returned from that mission you would have started Intermediate classes, including those on Sexuality and Interpersonal Relations. While Jedi generally prefer to keep our personal lives private most of us *do* have them."

"With other Jedi?"

"Yes," Qui-Gon nodded, "Most often with other Jedi. Many yearmates form lasting attachments, sometimes masters and padawans do and sometimes knights and masters simply find that they want a more intimate friendship with another knight or master. There is no rule about it."

"But not with pleasure slaves," Oban stated bluntly.

"Well, Jedi don't meet very many pleasure slaves in the normal course of things. And we certainly don't keep slaves ourselves." He lifted the hand he was holding and kissed it. "But there is no reason why an *ex* pleasure slave should be unacceptable."

Oban nodded, he was not quite convinced but he let the topic go. He was having trouble reconciling his two selves.

*Oban* would expect his relationship with his master to be sexual but *Obi-Wan* had a vague but definite sense that sexual relations with his master where not quite right. His inability to regain all his early memories and settle his two identities was both frustrating and unsettling.

That evening Master Stanell brought a young knight to meet Oban. Telarvic s'He was on teaching rotation. Knight s'He was a gifted linguist and not so very much older than Oban. He also had a reputation for empathy and discretion. Qui-Gon had concurred wholeheartedly with the teaching master's choice and his confidence was quickly justified as it became clear that Oban had a knack for languages. Qui-Gon met Stanell's gaze with a smile as the young men took to each other easily.

Over the following days both Eletha and Frensam joined them for training sessions, and Oban received a call from Bant saying she was on her way back to Coruscant and would like to catch up with him. She suggested dinner with a small group of their yearmates. After consideration and discussion with Qui- Gon, Oban sent an acceptance. Both master and padawan spent the next day and a half worrying about the meeting although Qui-Gon managed to mask his concern rather better.

When his padawan left to meet with his childhood friend, Qui-Gon bid him good luck and settled at the comm unit. After some time Qui-Gon realised his concentration was wandering. He ran a careful scan of the bond and was relieved by the relaxed pleasure he sensed.

For the first time in weeks Qui-Gon was alone for dinner and he decided to eat in the Master's dinning room. After choosing his dinner Qui-Gon looked around for a vacant seat. He was beckoned over to a long table near the wall and steeling himself for a grilling from his peers, Qui-Gon sat between Mace and Adi. The talk was about padawans in general and training in particular and before long Qui-Gon found himself in the midst of a lively discussion about the senior curriculum.

As he left the room Qui-Gon was stopped numerous times with greetings and congratulations on his new padawan. Warmed by the reactions of his peers Qui-Gon fell into step beside Mace.

The Councillor grinned at him, "That wasn't so bad now, was it?"

Qui-Gon returned the smile a little wryly, "No, I suppose not."

"Where's Obi-Wan?" Mace asked.

"He's meeting with some of his year mates."

The Councillor nodded, "Good." He patted Qui-Gon's shoulder. "You are doing a good job, Qui."

Qui-Gon passed the main quadrangle on his way back to his quarters and heard the laughter and raised voices of a group of padawans. Glancing casually down he saw his padawan surrounded by half a dozen young people. Qui-Gon paused as Oban's tawny head bent to hear something one of them was saying. The ambience of the group was relaxed and cheerful and Oban was chuckling as he listened.

Qui-Gon smiled and continued on his way up the stairs to the next level where he could gain access to his tower. The young voices floated up to him, clear in the quiet of early night.

"Tell us, Obi-Wan. What did you do?"

"What was it like?"

"How did Master Jinn save you? Did he buy you?"

"Are you *his* now?"

The questions were impertinent but the voices were friendly, innocently curious rather then invasive. Qui-Gon stopped and looked down again. The bond quivered with a trace of anxiety and Qui-Gon wondering whether he should go to his padawans aid.

But Oban's calm voice floated clearly up to him. "Sometimes it was unpleasant, mostly it was just boring." The young man shrugged, "And as the Trader Clans gave me to Master Jinn, I suppose I do belong to him now, legally speaking."

One of the young women sighed, "Lucky you, I think Master Jinn is gorgeous."

The others laughed and teased the blushing girl. Qui- Gon smiled as he turned back towards the elevators, amused and rather flattered by the comment. He was intrigued by a stab of jealousy that flashed through the bond. Waiting for the doors to open he allowed himself the indulgence of eavesdropping further.

Oban breathed a sigh of relief when the others dropped the subject but he leaned over to whisper in Jainda's ear, "So do I."

Jainda replied, "I meant what I said, I think you are very lucky to be Master Jinn's padawan. And don't let anything they say bother you. It's just teasing." Her voice dropped even lower and she asked shyly, "I don't suppose you would care to join me... No, of course not. I'm sorry..." The light feminine voice trailed to an embarrassed halt.

Qui-Gon sensed Oban's gentle smile and heard the softly spoken words as he stepped into the elevator. "Thank you, Jainda. I have a lover already but I'd be glad a friend."

The doors closed and Qui-Gon let out a rather guilty sigh. Checking to see that his padawan was coping was one thing, listening in on a private conversation was another. Still it was reassuring to know that the lad *was* coping, and rather well. Friendships and a little admiration could only help his confidence.

His master was seated reading when Oban returned. There was a thoughtful look in his eyes as he joined his master on the sofa. "Master, do you think of me as Oban or Obi-Wan?"

Qui-Gon put down the 'reader and looked at the younger man. "I don't really know. When I first called you Obi it was because I had just found out who you were. I have always thought of you as a padawan." Oban's eyes were clouded. "How do you think of yourself, Obi?"

"I don't know." Oban frowned. "I've been Oban as long as I can remember but Obi-Wan feels right ... feels like me." He cast a shy glance at his master. "I like it when you call me Obi ... that feels right too."

Qui-Gon ran his fingers through Oban's hair and said thoughtfully, "I think that is how I think of you, as Obi ... my padawan and my lover."

Oban blushed faintly. "That is how I think of myself. But Obi-Wan is ... " His voice trailed off then he said slowly, "Obi-Wan feels solid ... real ... even though I don't know much about him."

"Well, officially you are Obi-Wan Kenobi. It's really up to you what you want people to call you."

"The other padawan's called me Obi-Wan tonight." He smiled at his master and rubbed against the hand that was resting on his neck. "And I'm Obi to you. I guess I left Oban behind on Gatharn."

Qui-Gon nodded, "In many ways you did, but you were Oban for almost half of your life. He will always be a part of you, there is no shame in that. You did what you had to do to survive." The young man was looking doubtful. Qui-Gon took a gentle grip on the hair that lapped over Oban's collar and changed the subject. "Time to cut this."

Qui-Gon led his padawan into the bathroom and placed a stool in the centre of the room. "Sit here, Obi and take off your tunics." He draped a towel around the young man's shoulders and ran a comb through the soft, glowing hair cutting it as he worked. When he had achieved a short shaggy crop Qui-Gon reached for the clippers. "Hold on to this." He placed Oban's hand on the longer tail he had left behind one ear and proceeded to run the clippers over Oban's head until he was left with an even spiky covering.

"There." Qui-Gon put aside the clippers and carefully removed the towel, shaking the loose hair into the disposal unit. Moving to kneel before his padawan, Qui-Gon ran the comb through the little tail of longer hair.

Oban stared mesmerised at his master. He watched as the older man snipped a lock of hair from his own head and mingle it with Oban's shorter lock, fusing the hair together with the Force. Then his master began to plait the combined hair. The large, blunt fingers were impossibly deft as they worked the fine hair into a narrow braid and bound it with a thin red cord near the end.

Qui-Gon ran the finished braid through his fingers and let it fall over the younger man's smooth, pale shoulder. "My padawan." He raised the lad from the stool and stood behind him as they both looked into the mirror.

"Yes." Oban breathed, "Your padawan." He stared at their reflection ... Master and Padawan ... Qui-Gon Jinn and Obi- Wan Kenobi. *Obi-Wan* he thought, *I am Obi-Wan.* He met his master's eyes in the mirror ... blazing aquamarine meeting indigo velvet ... then his gaze lowered to the big hands that rested on his bare shoulders. With a wicked grin, he raised his eyes again and undid the fastenings on his trousers letting them slither down his hips and pool over the light boots he was still wearing.

Qui-Gon had been drinking in the image of the half dressed youth, his emotions finely balanced between pride in his padawan and desire for his lover when he felt the mischief and lust through the bond. Suddenly he was confronted by the sight of a lean, graceful, *naked* Obi framed against his own larger, fully clothed body. With a low growl Qui-Gon wrapped his arms around his padawan.

Obi-Wan tipped his head back in invitation and opened his mouth to the insistent lips and probing tongue of his master. After an endless moment Qui-Gon raised his head and murmured. "Take off your boots."

Obi-Wan sat on the stool again and did as he was told. He was then swept up and carried into their bedroom where, instead of being placed on the bed, his master set him down in front of the full-length mirror. In seconds the Jedi master had shed his clothes.

Once again they stood staring at their reflection. Obi- Wan watched his master's hands skim over his body, watched himself arch into the firm, sensual touch. His master bent to lick and kiss Obi-Wan's throat and he watched as his head fell back to lean against the powerful body that held him. One large hand was roaming over his chest, flicking over a nipple then shifting to tease the sensitive skin covering his ribs. The other hand moved lower sliding along the crease between hip and thigh.

It was the most erotic thing he had ever seen, his master's hand closing deliberately around his genitals, cupping his testicles and gently squeezing before taking his cock in his grasp and slowly caressing the crown with his thumb.

Qui-Gon bit softly at Obi-Wan's ear and then looked up. The young man's eyes were glazed and hungry, his lips parted as he panted and moaned. The sight of the strong, slender body moving restlessly against him was overwhelmingly seductive. Qui-Gon's hips moved involuntarily to press his erection against the smooth skin of his padawan's lower back.

Obi-Wan gasped and arched against his master, his hands reaching up and taking hold of the mane that was spilling over him. "Master." He sighed and rubbed his head against his master's shoulder. With an inarticulate growl Qui-Gon turned towards the bed but Obi-Wan took two steps and bent forward until he leaning on the tall chest of drawers his back arched, his head resting on his arms. Letting every nuance of his love and desire flood through the bond Obi-Wan deliberately moved his feet further apart.

Confronted by the sight of the pale golden body offered to him Qui-Gon abandoned all thought of taking his padawan to bed. In a second he had the small vial of oil and was anointing his own flesh and his padawan's. He ran a possessive hand down the curved spine and over rounded buttocks. He was taking his padawan where he stood.

Abandoning himself to the sensation Obi-Wan arched and purred as gentle, insistent fingers stroked and teased. A whimper escaped him as the fingers slid inside, then a pleased sigh as his hips were grasped and the warm, blunt pressure of his master's cock touched him. "Yes! Master, yes." He pushed back into the invasion, squirming and shaking, desperate to have this joining.

Qui-Gon's head fell forward to rest on his padawan's shoulder as he was drawn deeper and felt the eager young body tighten around him. He kissed the exposed neck and moaned, "Padawan ... Obi," as he his body surged forward.

Obi-Wan turned his head and claimed his master's mouth the soft voice and passionate touch filling him with joy. He moaned against the mouth that claimed him as his body was filled with exquisite pleasure. Pleasure, pride, security, comfort, the sensations rippled through him as he felt his master's climax.

"Beloved." Qui-Gon breathed as he gathered his padawan and moved them both to the bed. He ran his fingers through the drying semen on Obi's thighs, rubbing the liquid into his skin then bending to press a kiss on the now quiescent cock.

*Beloved* Obi-Wan hugged the whispered word to his heart. He didn't think his master was aware he had said it but he could feel the older man's emotions, feel the possessive affection and need and for the moment it was enough.

In the six weeks since Obi-Wan had arrived on Coruscant he had firmly established as Qui-Gon Jinn's padawan in the eyes of the Council - and of the other Jedi he supposed - but sometimes Obi-Wan still felt it was too good to be true. He found himself wondering whether he would wake up back in the harem, just a body to be used by the next favoured guest or given to a court official as a 'thank you' for work well done.

Sometimes he woke at night disoriented; starting from his sleep as he strained to hear the faint sounds of the harem, staring bewildered at the honey-coloured walls, searching for the familiar drapes that curtained his tiny cot from the others in the sleeping hall. At these times he slid out of bed and walked around the suite of rooms, running his fingers over the pale walls, stroking his master's robe and breathing in the comforting scent, picking up the little curios that littered various surfaces, trying desperately to fix the place in his memory. Sometimes his master woke and joined him, wrapping him in a huge embrace and sipping hot choa in the dim light before drawing him gently back to their big bed.

He was Obi-Wan ... he *knew* he was ... but in most of his memories he was Oban and sometimes he was overcome by the incongruity of a pleasure slave who was a Jedi apprentice. Still his master didn't seem to mind so he mostly pushed his anxieties aside and immersed himself in his new life.

Qui-Gon kept his attention on the corridors before him but his inner focus was on his padawan as they walked through the Senate complex. Obi-Wan had adapted to life as a padawan with remarkable ease and the master found himself filled with pride and affection as he walked beside the young man.

The Council had decided that, since Qui-Gon was going to be confined to Coruscant while his padawan caught up on his training, he should take on the role Senate Liaison. Chancellor Valorum was delighted to have his old friend in the position and the Senate as a whole was flattered to be allocated the services of one of the most senior and experienced Jedi Masters. Qui- Gon had agreed to the assignment on the proviso that his padawan accompany him, and after a short deliberation the Council had agreed.

Obi-Wan was a little nervous at first but he quickly became fascinated by the sight of his master at work. It amused him how similar these events were to social functions he had attended on Gatharn and he was pleased to find that the skills he had gained in judging character seemed to hold true here at the centre of the Republic. He mused over the irony of something good and useful arising from his time as a pleasure slave.

Obi-Wan had become a familiar sight at Qui-Gon's side and, while there were some who still looked at him askance, in general the curiosity had subsided. He had begun to mingle with other Jedi a little though he still felt uncertain with anyone but his own small group of friends or his master's even smaller circle.

His days were filled with training, meditation and a variety of classes as well as his sessions with Master Schal. Any spare time was spent with his yearmates or with extra study. Obi-Wan revelled in his new life but he missed the early days when he had spent every moment alone with his master.

Walking through the corridors, hands folded together inside the wide sleeves of his robe, head bent slightly forward, expression grave and serene, Obi-Wan was the image of a perfect padawan.

They were on their way to a reception for incoming senators and delegates. It was a largely ceremonial occasion but Qui-Gon felt it was a good opportunity for Obi-Wan to observe a substantial number of the senators in one place.

As they approached the reception rooms Qui-Gon paused and laid his hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder. "Ready, Padawan?"

"Yes, Master." Obi-Wan nodded, straightening his spine and smiling.

The reception was being held in an immense hall high in the Senate complex with floor to ceiling windows that opened on a spectacular view over the endless city scape. Their role was simple, they were there to represent the Jedi, to meet as many delegates and senators as possible and to assess the character of the new senators and their alliances. As Obi-Wan was a novice padawan he would remain at his master's side, quietly observing while Qui-Gon did the rounds and discreetly fed him information about the beings they met.

The atmosphere in the reception hall was vibrant, resonating with the auras of the multitude of beings. Obi-Wan was focussing on various individuals and groups, carefully following the interweaving strands of energy and trying to refine his ability to assess mood through the Force. They had been circulating among the guests for some time when Obi-Wan began to feel uneasy. His master had stopped to talk with a group of Senators and Obi-Wan let his Force sense range a little wider. He was following an energy strand, observing how it flowed and rippled as it interacted with other strands, when he had a sensation of falling. For a moment he was skating over a cold, glassy surface. Disoriented and shaken he drew his attention back to his master, shivering as he moved closer and reached out to the older man for reassurance.

Sensing Obi-Wan's disquiet Qui-Gon sent a query through their bond as he excused himself from the conversation and drew his padawan aside. "What is it, Obi?"

"I'm sorry, Master. I thought I felt something ... wrong in the Force," Obi-Wan apologised.

Qui-Gon extended his focus into the room and frowned. "I see what you mean. Well done, Padawan." He cast an appraising eye across the room. "I want you to move around the room and check on the currents. Perhaps you could fetch us drinks."

He watched as his padawan wandered off then turned back to the gathering and began to make his own leisurely way through the throng. Effortlessly making small talk while the major part of his brain assessed the strange fluctuations and eddies in the Force Qui-Gon had covered a large arc around the room when the Ahselaatii Senator approached him.

"Master Jinn, I wish to make known to you Seviti Kadnela, head of the Vendean delegation."

Qui-Gon bowed and murmured the appropriate greetings. Vendea Prime was one of several governments that were petitioning for admission to the Republic. They were discussing the hopes of the Vendean Federation when the Senator's attention was claimed by an aide.

Qui-Gon sensed Obi-Wan heading back towards him and was about to excuse himself when the Vendean delegate said, "You have excellent taste, Master Jinn. I wasn't aware that the boy was available or I would have made a bid myself." Unaware that the tall Jedi was glaring down at him the delegate watched as Obi-Wan drew near. "An exceptionally talented boy too, as I recall."

The note of lascivious reflection made Qui-Gon's skin crawl. He felt a spike of panic flash through Obi-Wan as the young man recognized the Vendean. Faltering, Obi-Wan's eyes flew to Qui-Gon's face. Pouring his love and support through the bond, Qui-Gon stretched his hand out to beckon the young man closer. Placing a warm hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder he said, "Obi-Wan is my padawan."

"Really?" The lecherous voice was amused, "I didn't think Jedi kept pleasure slaves."

"We don't." Qui-Gon's voice was cold. "Slavery of all kinds is illegal in the Republic and is personally abhorrent to me." Qui-Gon took the glass from Obi-Wan's hand. "Thank you, Padawan. This is the head the Vendean delegation, Siviti Kadnela. My apprentice, Obi-Wan Kenobi."

The Vendean delegate stared up into the Jedi master's fierce eyes and raised his hands placatingly. "I'm sorry. My mistake. Pleased to meet you *Jedi* Kenobi." The words were conciliatory but the underlying tone was mocking and it turned harshly lewd when he said Obi-Wan's name.

His hands tightly clenched in his sleeves Obi-Wan managed to bow politely and shifted closer to his master. Qui- Gon could feel the young man's fear and shame. He placed a firm hand on his padawan's lower back as he bade a curt farewell and steered Obi-Wan away.

Qui-Gon led the way around the edge of the room and slipped out into the corridor. He could feel the tremors that were running through Obi-Wan. The lad's face had turned a sickly grey and he pressed a shaking hand to his mouth. Spying a washroom at the end of the corridor Qui-Gon hurried to it, pushing the door open just in time. Obi-Wan staggered in and emptied the contents of his stomach into the toilet bowl.

Sealing the door behind them, Qui-Gon knelt and placed a comforting arm around Obi-Wan's heaving shoulders. He gathered the young man up and moved him to a bench in the outer room. A glass of water and a little Force settled Obi- Wan's stomach. Qui-Gon held him until the tremors eased, gently stroking his hair and murmuring words of comfort and reassurance.

"I'm sorry, Master," Obi-Wan whispered.

Qui-Gon squatted in front of his padawan. "Obi, you don't have to apologise for being sick." He drew Obi-Wan to his feet. "We need to talk about what happened but this isn't the place. They will be taking a break shortly. There is a longish gap before the next session, let's get back to our quarters."

Obi-Wan nodded miserably and fell in step beside his master. Coming face to face with the Vendean when he was already disturbed by the oddness in the Force had severely unsettled Obi-Wan. As they paced silently to the shuttle platform Obi-Wan berated himself for his loss of control. How could he be so stupid and naive? Thinking that he had left his life as a pleasure slave behind just because he had left Gatharn.

Feeling his padawans agitation, Qui-Gon flooded the bond with reassurance and as they entered the Temple shuttle he placed a warm hand on Obi-Wan's back. There were several other people in the little transport vehicle so he drew Obi-Wan to sit beside him, keeping his hand pressed comfortingly against the lad's spine.

When they finally reached their rooms Qui-Gon pushed Obi-Wan gently onto the sofa and brushed a light kiss across his padawan's forehead before heading into the kitchen. He returned with two steaming mugs of cha and sat beside the young man. "Can you talk about it, Obi?"

Taking a shaky breath, Obi-Wan nodded and said slowly, "The Vendeans trade with the Clans sometimes. I don't think it is a close association but every twenty months or so they used to appear on Gatharn." He closed his eyes and swallowed, fighting the bile that was threatening to rise again.

Qui-Gon took Obi-Wan's hand, "And you were required to 'entertain' them."

Nodding, Obi-Wan said haltingly, "The leader ... that one at the reception ... he ... I ... " A shudder of revulsion swept through him, "After the first time he always asked for me. The guards were pleased, they said I should be flattered." Obi-Wan's elegant voice was harsh as he forced the words out. "He liked to hurt me. He said ... he ..." Obi-Wan buried his face in his hands.

Qui-Gon pulled the shivering youth into his arms. Rubbing his hands across Obi-Wan's shoulders and down his spine the master murmured, "You're safe now, Obi. It's all right. Let it go. I won't let him hurt you."

Clutching desperately at his master, burrowing closer to the strong presence that offered safety and comfort, Obi-Wan pressed his face against a broad shoulder and whispered, "He said I was beautiful when I screamed."

In his distress Obi-Wan's shields were forgotten and Qui-Gon saw anguished flashes of the pain and humiliation his padawan had suffered at the hands of the Vendean delegate and a multitude of anonymous men. Qui-Gon closed his eyes against his tears. He held Obi-Wan, rocking him slowly back and forth and murmuring comfort as he carefully slipped into the unshielded mind and pushed the memories back, smothering them with his love and support and reiterating his belief in Obi- Wan's strength and integrity.

Obi-Wan gave one last convulsive shudder then he sat up dashing his hands across his eyes. "Why would anyone do that? Why would he want to hurt someone?" He got to his feet and began pacing.

Qui-Gon smiled sadly, "I can't answer that, Obi." He watched as Obi-Wan prowled up and down the length of the room. "You have to let it go, Padawan."

"Let it go!" Obi-Wan snarled. "I want to ... " his hands flew in agitation, "I don't know what I want to do. Hurt him." He spat the words then stopped and stared at his master. "He's doing it to others isn't he? I'm not the only one." Obi-Wan was horrified at the realisation.

"Probably not," Qui-Gon agreed.

"I want to stop him hurting anyone else. Can we stop him, Master?"

"Probably not," Qui-Gon said again. "We can stop him becoming a Senator. You could bring charges against him but he was under the aegis of the Trade Clans and they are not subject to Republic law. Gatharn may be forced to officially ban the Clans but we both know that unofficially they would continue to support them and most of the Clans' activity is conducted outside Republic territory anyway."

Obi-Wan's shoulders slumped. "And even if we stopped this one there are thousands just like him. It's useless ... hopeless."

Qui-Gon hugged the younger man again. "It is never useless to fight against cruelty and corruption. Even if sometimes it seems as though the gains are very small and a long time coming." He tugged gently on Obi-Wan's braid. "So, my Padawan, there is something I want you to do."

"Yes, Master," Obi-Wan murmured dejectedly.

Qui-Gon sat him at the comm terminal and called up the Temple archives. "While I am at the afternoon session I want you to find everything you can about the Vendeans. You might find the Senate archives useful too. You will need this." He put his security chip on the desk. "I am especially interested in their alliances and technology, but find out as much as you can ... society, culture, religion, history ... anything."

"What am I looking for?"

"I'm not really sure. I just have a feeling..." Qui-Gon tapped his fingers on the side of the terminal thoughtfully. "You felt it in the reception hall. That 'wrongness' in the Force. I'm sure I've felt it before ... I just can't place it." Puting his hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder Qui-Gon looked into his padawan's eyes and was relieved to see curiosity pushing aside the misery. "This session is purely ceremonial. We should have time to spar before dinner."

Obi-Wan nodded and smiled as waves of affection washed over him. He pressed a quick kiss to the hand on his shoulder. "Yes, Master."

Qui-Gon tipped Obi-Wan's chin up and kissed him lingeringly, then picking up his robe he headed back to the Senate complex.

For some time after his master had left Obi-Wan sat staring at the screen. He was dismayed by his reaction to the Vendean. Yes, the man had treated him vilely but he was by no means the only one who had and *Oban* had surely come to terms with that aspect of his life. He wandered into the kitchen to fetch a mug of caf. Either Oban wasn't as reconciled to his life as he had thought, or Obi-Wan's reactions were rather different to Oban's.

He was pondering the question as he went back to the terminal and initiated a search for the information his master had requested. When he was given to the Jedi Master he had felt relief at escaping the harem and only having to serve one man. He had immediately sensed that he was safe with his new master but he had certainly expected that he would be at the sexual whim of the Jedi. Indeed, when his master made it clear that he was not wanted in that way Oban had been bewildered and afraid.

A reminiscent smile lit Obi-Wan's face as he thought of those days on the transport ship and remembered how confused he had been. The kindness his new master had shown him and the gentleness had astonished and enchanted him.

This was the answer, Obi-Wan decided, his master had shown him what it was to be treated with care and dignity, until then Oban had simply expected treated as a possession. It had never occurred to him that his feelings mattered. Being confronted with a tangible reminder of his past had been shocking, especially as the man clearly believed that Obi-Wan was filling the role in the Jedi's life that Oban had filled in the Vendean's.

Obi-Wan began reading through the information on the screen. He hoped he would find time to meditate but at the moment his master was relying on him to find something useful. His personal concerns would have to wait.

Since arriving at the Temple and taking classes with Master Stannell Obi-Wan had discovered that he was able to absorb information quickly and easily. Taking his mug in one hand he scrolled through the information, jotting notes on a dataslate. At the end of several hours he thought he had a fair idea of the history and culture of Vendea. They seemed to be an entirely unremarkable people, developing in the usual ways, fighting amongst themselves, discovering space flight. They appeared to be primarily concerned with pleasure but that was hardly an unusual trait.

Obi-Wan thought he might just have time to meditate before his master returned. He saved the files he had accessed and settled cross-legged on the rug.

Qui-Gon's mood was thoughtful as he returned to his quarters. That strange 'wrongness' in the Force was evident again during the afternoon session. It had ebbed and flowed and he had been unable to establish any pattern to its appearance. That was not entirely unexpected however in a room containing several hundred beings who were interacting with each other in ever changing ways. Besides, the sense of wrongness was faint and elusive. Qui-Gon wasn't sure that he would have noticed it at all if his padawan hadn't drawn his attention to it, and if he hadn't felt it before somewhere.

It was his sense that it was familiar that most played on Qui-Gon's mind. There was a faint frown on his face as he walked through the Temple trying to place the sensation. Qui-Gon was almost home when he realised where he had felt something similar. Gatharn. It was similar, though not identical to, the presence he had felt in the Force on Gatharn. His frown deepened. But that was Obi-Wan. He had sensed the lad in the Force several times before he actually met him, and this sensation was nothing like his padawan's aura.

And then it hit him. The collar! Was someone in the reception wearing a Force dampening collar? And if so, why?

Pleased at having at least begun to solve the puzzle, Qui- Gon opened the door and smiled at the sight of his padawan meditating in a patch of late afternoon sunlight. The aura the young man was radiating was calm and centred Qui-Gon noted with approval as he brushed a mental caress over the lad.

They did indeed have time to spar before dinner and both men felt better as the physical activity worked the residual tension out of their muscles. There was a brief surge in the Force as they trained suggesting that they were being observed, but when Qui-Gon glanced up at the gallery it was empty.

Obi-Wan's abilities were improving day by day and he flashed a pleased smile when Qui-Gon praised him as they left the room. The older man privately thought that no-one who saw the lad fight could mistake Obi-Wan for anything other than a Jedi. The difference between the ex-slave who was unable to take the offensive and the confident padawan who could meet, if not yet exceed, anything his master threw at him, was staggering.

As they returned to their quarters Obi-Wan outlined what he had learned about the Vendeans. Qui-Gon asked, "What is their association with the Ahselaatii?"

"The Ahselaatii appear to have stumbled across Vendea. The Vendeans were rather less advanced technologically. The association was formed because Vendea has deposits of some of the rarer minerals and precious stones." Obi-Wan shrugged, "Frankly I would say the Ahselaatii are humouring the Vendeans with this bid to join the Republic. All the information suggests that the Vendeans are very much junior partners in the relationship."

"Interesting." Qui-Gon nodded. "Do you know whether the Ahselaatii have any connection with the Trade Clans?"

Obi-Wan shook his head. They had reached their quarters and Qui-Gon was telling him his theory about the disturbance in the Force as they entered. There was a message on the comm unit and Qui-Gon went to read it as Obi-Wan headed towards the kitchen.

Obi-Wan felt the disgust and anger surge from his master. He paused and turned hesitantly, "Master?"

Qui-Gon closed his eyes, willing the emotions to fade. "It's from the Vendean delegate."

"May I read it, Master?" Obi-Wan asked warily.

"Certainly, if you wish to. It's about you after all." Obi-Wan moved to stand beside his master and read the message.

It was brief. **Master Jinn. As your padawan is an old friend of mine, I wonder of you would allow him to spend some time with me while I am on Coruscant? Siviti Kadnela.**

"An old friend!" Obi-Wan exclaimed looking up from the screen. "Is he a fool?"

Qui-Gon was relieved to hear indignation rather than fear in his padawan's voice. "Do you want to answer it, Obi, or shall I?"

Obi-Wan's fingers flew over the terminal. "Allow me, Master."

**Siviti Kadnela. I have no wish to spend any time in your presence. Obi-Wan Kenobi.**

Qui-Gon smiled and sent the reply. "Brief and to the point, my Padawan."

"What else is there to say." Obi-Wan put his arms around his master's waist. "Thank you, Master."

Qui-Gon laid an arm across his shoulders and drew the young man towards the bathroom. "It would save time if we showered together," he teased.

"I suppose it would, Master." Obi-Wan looked up and was caught in a deep, luxurious kiss. He moaned softly into the plundering mouth and gasped as his back connected with the shower screen. Reaching behind himself to turn on the water, Obi-Wan shivered as his clothes were stripped from his body and tossed onto the floor.

Naked, Obi-Wan drew back and watched through slitted eyes as his master shed his own clothing. One large hand reached out and curled around his skull.

"He is never going to touch you again, Obi." Qui-Gon's soft voice was like velvet.

"No one but you, Master." Obi-Wan whispered. He stepped under the warm water and held out his hand. "Touch me, Master."

With a soft growl, Qui-Gon joined his padawan under the cascading water. His hands stroked down water slicked sides to cup genitals and buttocks. He bent and softly bit the bared neck as Obi-Wan's head sagged forward and the young man sighed happily against his shoulder.

On to the Next Part