Still Want You

by Krystine (Krystine3@worldnet.att.net)

Archive: MA, anyone else please let me know
Category: Angst
Rating: R
Pairing: O/OC, O/Q
Spoilers: None
Warnings: Contains references to a planetary catastrophe that may resemble the tradegy of September 11. It is not my intention to belittle the memory of the victims, or the efforts of those who helped with the recovery and clean up.
Feedback: All comments are greatly appreciated
Disclaimer: The characters used in this story belong to Mr. Lucas, no offense (or profit) is intended.
Notes: This is a companion piece to Regret. Many thanks to Master Ferfer, Crystal, and Shan for their help, suggestions, and encouragement, and to all the listsibs who emailed asking for a continuation.
Summary: Sometimes lessons can only be learned through experience.

It's been three years, Master. Three years, and I still love you, still want you. Once, there had been a time when I believed I would move on, but now I realize that will not happen. I had left Coruscant knowing that my love for you was not returned. It was better to know the truth, I had reasoned. Better to know, rather than spend the rest of my life wondering about what could have been. But, even after all of this time, my heart still refuses to see the logic of these words.

You see, I never truly believed you would return my feelings. Oh, I had tried to convince myself that there was a chance you would want to bond with me. I had even foolishly allowed myself to go so far as to imagine what our bonding ceremony would be like -- what words we would speak to each other, who we would invite to witness our pledge, where we would go to join and complete the bond. Foolish dreams they were, brought out to help me at my most desperate times. Times like now.

Hiding in my darkened room, your words still haunt me. "Obi-Wan, I cannot form a bond with you. I must train Anakin. A life bond would interfere with the training bond. It would not be fair to him, or to you." Of course it wouldn't have been fair to Anakin. He would have had to share you.

Force, now who is being unfair? This isn't Anakin's fault. He never demanded to be your apprentice. This isn't even your fault, Master. You were merely following the will of the Force, doing what you must, as you so often reminded me when I was your apprentice. No, the fault lies with me, with my failure to accept what I had always known: I was nothing more than another obligation to you, a student to raise and train, until the time when I could go off on my own and serve the Force.

A sigh breaks the silence of the night, and a muscular arm comes to rest between my sticky thighs. The heat of the body lying next to me does nothing to soothe the emptiness inside. Tahhir is a good man. Tender and compassionate in his lovemaking, or at times, fierce and commanding, driving me to the edge of climax only to deny me until I'm sobbing desperately for release. He understands what I need and gives me exactly that.

He's what? My lover? My mate? My partner? He isn't really any of these, though I suppose bedmate comes the closest. We work along side each other during the day, and at night, take pleasure with the other's body. It's a simple arrangement, really -- no commitments, no expectations, no promises, just a willing partner and the chance to forget.

I met him shortly after my arrival on X'pnth. I had been sent to aid recovery efforts after a devastating series of earthquakes submerged most of the small planet's landmass, killing millions. Tremors continued to ripple through the remaining land causing republic geologists to question the stability of the planet's crust. Out of fear for continued quakes, survivors had been immediately evacuated and the rescue crew limited to fifty workers. It was a woefully inadequate number, considering thousands of victims were still feared to be trapped under collapsed buildings.

I helped where I could, though my ability to use the Force was disrupted by the after-shock of such great death and destruction. Initially, I took pilot duty, flying a small cruiser over the expanse of the mostly submerged planet, looking for survivors or bodies floating in the swirling waters. A few bodies were recovered, but no survivors.

After two days, it became apparent that further flights would be futile, and my time better served by assisting the crews shifting through the debris for victims. The work was slow and difficult, often requiring hours to stabilize damaged duracrete walls before teams could enter a ruined building. The cheers that rang out with each successful rescue inspired us to keep searching, despite the declining likelihood of finding survivors. At the end of every shift, a remembrance was said for those whose bodies were recovered that day.

Each night, I would return to my tent and spend a few minutes releasing the horrors of what I uncovered that day into the Force, before dropping into a dreamless sleep. As with each of my previous missions, I had pushed aside the memories of what I had left behind on Coruscant. I was a Jedi, and as such, I was determined not to allow my emotions to disrupt my focus.

My resolve broke the seventh night of my stay. Lying in my bedroll, I could not sleep. Each time I closed my eyes, I saw the remains of the young couple that had been pulled from the collapsed housing tower earlier in the day. The horror of their death was captured forever in their lifeless faces. Tightly wrapped in a terrified embrace, their bodies could not be separated, as if even death would not force them to part. They were removed together and placed in a shroud to be transported off-planet and identified.

I had spent the remaining daylight hours sifting through rubble, finding a few personal possessions and body parts. After carefully readying them for transport, I trudged wearily back to my tent, grateful for the escape of sleep. I could hear the gentle waves of the ocean lapping against the shore, their soothing sounds calling me to sleep, but it would not come. Frustrated after spending many minutes tossing about, I gave up any thoughts towards sleep and walked to the beach.

It was there, while staring at the water, that I again thought of the young couple. I had never met them, but I wept for them and the long lives they had been denied. I wept for their child who had been almost ready to enter the world, and now would never have the chance. And, to my shame, I wept because I would never know the feeling of holding the one I loved in my arms.

I'm not sure how long I sat there before I felt a hand on my shoulder give a comforting squeeze. The gesture reminded me of the times you would do that, Master. When I had failed to learn a new kata as quickly as I knew I should, or when I struggled to solve the long calculations in my navigational theory and applications class, you would squeeze my shoulder and tell me my frustration was clouding my thoughts. "Release your frustrations and clear your mind, Padawan," you would gently admonish. "You must unlearn what you have learned." Gods, just remembering your lesson, hearing the sound of your voice in my head made my grief that much greater.

I tried to stand when I felt another squeeze, but I couldn't. Physically and emotionally exhausted, my legs wouldn't support me. Instead, I found myself drawn into a strong embrace and I allowed it. The comfort of physical contact broke the last of my will, and I started sobbing then. I didn't know who was holding me, and I didn't care.

When the last of my tears dried, I felt myself being helped up and guided back to my tent. It was then that I saw my comforter. I recognized him as being one of the men I had worked with a few days earlier. I didn't know his name; I had never made any attempt to learn it while we were working together. Conversation didn't seem important in the scope of what we were doing.

He helped me settle beneath the thin blanket and when he turned to leave, I pulled him back. I don't know what I was thinking, except that I didn't want to be alone. He leaned in and kissed me, gently at first as his hands slipped beneath the loose outer tunic I wore and brushed against my nipples. I deepened the kiss and one hand moved lower to fondle my growing erection. When I didn't resist, he stripped us of our clothes. Finding the burn cream in the med kit next to my bedroll, he prepared me for penetration. I rolled onto my stomach before he entered me. If he took me from behind, I couldn't see that it wasn't the man I loved.

Our coupling was frantic, driven solely by need. Pinning me to the ground with his weight, his thrusts were powerful, yet he was careful not to hurt me. If he sensed it was my first time, he never said. It didn't take long for him to reach climax, and with a deep growl, he thrust one final time and pumped his seed into me. He pulled out then and rolled us onto our sides so he could reach my weeping erection. With a couple of quick strokes, he brought me to my own climax. After sparing a few moments to clean us, he drew me into his arms and together we slept, the whole time having never said a word to each other.

The next morning, I was surprised to find him still next to me. I had assumed he would have returned to his own tent sometime during the night. Watching him sleep, I thought about what had happened, what I had shared with and given to a man whose name I didn't even know.

When he awoke, I asked him why. I wasn't even really sure what I was asking, but he understood.

"Because you needed it."

There was no need for him to elaborate. I was what the Corellians called bantue fuoer, a pity fuck. Nothing more was said as we dressed and prepared to start our shift. I wasn't ashamed to leave my tent with him, even with the obviousness of what it implied. Once we reached the salvage site, we parted and continued with our separate duties.

He returned that night, and I welcomed him in my bed. Again, we didn't speak. It wasn't necessary. All that mattered was the release we could give to each other. Within minutes, I was stripped and on my hands and knees being entered. Still sore from the night before, the burn of my stretching was near excruciating, but at the same time, it was undeniably pleasurable. I whimpered in exquisite pain as his thrusts became harder. Dropping my forehead to the ground, I stretched my arms to brace myself as he forced his cock deeper into me.

I reached orgasm quickly, and I screamed while thrashing beneath him, desperate to pull away before I passed out from the intensity of it. He clutched my hips more tightly and continued to fuck me, his cock stroking my prostate with each furious thrust. I could only moan as my body convulsed under the continued stimulation. Finally, without a sound, he came inside of me.

After several moments, he withdrew and reclined on the ground, pulling my still trembling body into his embrace. He covered us with the blanket and pressed a kiss to the back of my sweat-drenched hair. "Sleep, my Ben," he whispered. I obeyed him without question.

He started calling me "Ben" after that. I don't know if it was meant to be a term of affection, or if it was the name of an old lover, perhaps someone he had lost in the earthquake. I never asked. I would be Ben for him, though he would never be Qui-Gon for me. I would not allow it.

We did not spend every night together. Often, many days would pass before we would see each other. If he spent those nights with other lovers, I do not know. It was another of the many questions I did not ask. I was content to accept what he offered, when he offered it, pity fuck or not.

That's not to say that I allowed Tahhir complete control over me, because I didn't. I knew exactly what I was doing each time he came to me. I could have refused him; I did not want to. When I was with him, at least for a short while, I could forget about you, Master. Forget about you, and the boy you were so quick to replace me with. My guilt over using my bedmate in such a manner was eased as I suspected he was doing the same thing. Again, it was something we never spoke of.

As the weeks passed, I found myself growing comfortable around him. Tahhir and I began to converse more, which was how I finally learned his name, or at least the one he wanted me to call him. Our conversations, however, were limited to safe topics, nothing that would reveal too much about our past lives. As much as we each needed to protect our own past, we did not want to hurt the other by forcing him to speak of it. Our ghosts would always be our own. It was a safe, if odd, situation.

So now, here I am. Starting the third month of this assignment, staying in a building converted to temporary housing for the rescue workers, and sleeping with a man who wants nothing more than my body. Not exactly a brilliant example of knighthood, is it?

It's certainly not the future I had dreamed of when I was your apprentice. I suppose that was another of my mistakes, dreaming of the future. I should have lived in the moment, as you so often scolded me for not doing.

Maybe this was your final lesson for me, Master. Showing me the consequences of looking to the future at the expense of the moment. Had I followed your example, I would have accepted that you never thought of me as anything more than your student. I would have spared myself this grief.

I think I finally understand what you were trying to teach me. You could not have picked a more perfect way to teach me this. I still love you, but I will no longer look for comfort in the dreams I had for our future together. Now, they will serve to remind me of the lesson you could not teach me in any other way. They will remind me of what I had known all along: we were never meant to be.

Finis