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Take on Me

by micehell (micehell@rodentinferno.com)

Archive: MA
Category: Q/O, AU, H/C, Non-Con
Rating: R for suggested content
Warnings: Suggestion, threat and actuality of rape, though in no way graphically portrayed. Non-linear passages of time, wonky verb tenses. Gratuitous references to the video "Take On Me" and the band A-ha, though I doubt anyone will find them. Unbetaed, though it really should have been.
Spoilers: none
Summary: Qui-Gon becomes intrigued by a mysterious music video he keeps seeing.
Feedback: As you will. Have no fear, however, I have no plans to quit my day job.

A/N: Only one person has read this, besides the author, and their opinion was ,"I've read worse." Well, with that kind of resounding praise, I knew I had to post this puppy. I've been in this group for nearly two years and this is the first thing fic I've managed to finish (for this group or any other), so, for the faint of heart, please be careful.

This story came to me after I'd gone to a party where we got to talking about music from the '80's. That it warps heavily from it's source (the video for "Take On Me"), is because I have a sick mind. That is makes no sense, I blame on the drugs I was taking as I wrote it. Anything else, I blame on my mother.

Story follows directly.

Qui-Gon Jinn was a Jedi master; calm, serene and always in control. Which is why his present occupation, yelling at a screen showing a music video, was so startling, both to those around him and to himself. He'd come here to this bar to get over his overwrought emotions, not to give into them. Knowing that his behavior was inappropriate for a Jedi out in public, or for a Jedi in private, for that matter, he began calming himself. After some time had passed and he still hadn't calmed, he decided to just fake it. Once he was outwardly settled and had stopped drawing unwanted attention, he began to think about what had led to his outburst.

It had started with a meeting in one of the Senate subcommittees, one of the kind that seemed to be eternal and with no point whatsoever. When a break had finally been called, everyone had dispersed as fast as was humanly (and inhumanly in some cases) possible. Qui-Gon had gone to seek some refreshment and had found himself at a little café that obviously catered to a youngish crowd. There had been screens all around, all playing the same music video, the music blaring and sounding more like an industrial accident than a song, at least to Qui-Gon. Having little else to occupy himself with at the moment,Qui-Gon had studied the video, trying to figure out why the other patrons of the café were so enthralled with it. Beyond some scantily clad dancers, he couldn't see the appeal.

Well, he guessed the lead singer could be considered attractive, if you liked your men young and pretty, with long, reddish hair, intense blue-green eyes and a definite swagger to their stride. Not that Qui-Gon did. Find him attractive that is. And even if he did find him attractive, it certainly didn't make up for how bad the rest of the video was.

Qui-Gon just didn't like music videos. Hadn't liked them even as a kid, when at least the music had been worth listening to. In the succeeding years, as videos had changed from little more than filmed, staged musical performances to what was now little more than filmed, staged sexual performances, his dislike of them had grown to the point that he would usually leave a room if someone had them playing. The fact that his former apprentice had been so fond of them had not changed his opinion any, or, at least, not in a positive way. The boy had seemed to be fascinated by the adolescent fantasies being played out, as if those fantasies had more appeal than his actual life. That he would crave something so obviously fake should have been a warning to Qui-Gon about the boy's eventual fate, but, at the time, he'd simply thought it was poor taste. And afterwards, after the betrayal and the pain it brought, well, hindsight is always perfect, isn't it?

But that was the past and he lived in the moment. He had let go of the bitterness years ago and was now content to lead a productive life in the service of the Jedi. That he had never chosen to take another apprentice, even after almost 15 years, was simply the will of the Force and was certainly not the result of any emotional withdrawal on his part. Nearing 60 now, he had resigned himself to living the rest of his life alone and was content with his choices, wearing calm and serenity like a second cloak. The little niggling doubts that these things were true he ruthlessly suppressed, as he did the ever-present loneliness.

One bad music video with a moderately... well, if he were being honest, very attractive singer was no reason to dredge up the past. Consulting his internal clock, he realized it was time to get back to the meeting, unappealing as that thought was. He left the café without another thought to the video or the singer.

After the meeting, he'd been invited to a party by one of the Senators and had felt duty bound to accept. The man was an important member of the Senate, even if he bored the Sith out of Qui-Gon, and, as such, couldn't be dismissed out of hand. The party was typical of such things; boring small talk, insipid food, too loud music, and increasingly lewd behavior as the evening wore on and the alcohol consumption increased. While listening to his host drone on about his native planet, Qui-Gon once again tried to determine how a man from such an out of the way world like Naboo had managed to acquire so much power in the Senate. As Qui-Gon had thought of this before and had yet to reach a good conclusion, it wasn't keeping his mind off of how bored he was. He was fighting a yawn and trying to figure out how to leave without offering offense, when he realized he recognized the song that was playing. Looking at the wall, he noticed a large screen was playing music videos and, sure enough, it was the same one from earlier today.

It was almost as if he were compelled to watch it. During this viewing, he noticed that there seemed to be some sort of plot to the video, something about the singer trying to get away from someone who was menacing him. At various points in the video, the singer would seem to be looking directly out from the screen with a searching gaze, as if he were looking for someone to help him. It disturbed Qui-Gon somewhat, as he kept feeling as if the eyes were looking directly at him. A ridiculous idea, but the unease persisted, nonetheless.

Turning to the companion who had previously been boring him, he asked, "Do you know who the singer is in that video?"

"Oh, that's Obi-Wan Kenobi, he's about the hottest artist around now. No one seems to know anything about him except his name. I've heard that no one even knows where he is. They also don't know if he's put out any music before this. My, they don't even know who produced the video or distributed it. It was as if it just magically appeared one day. Between the mystery surrounding the video and the obvious appeal of its star, it's no wonder that everyone's so enthralled by it. I certainly wouldn't mind meeting him, among other things."

The leer that crossed the Senator's face was so unlike his usual genial expression that Qui-Gon began to worry about how much the man had had to drink. It looked as if the Senator was going to say more, but he became distracted by the next video that came on. It had a Twilek girl, dressed in what appeared to be some microfilament, writhing in what could potentially have been ecstasy while lip-synching to a song that didn't even make sense to Qui-Gon. Having lost the attention of his informant to the barely disguised porn currently playing, Qui-Gon felt as if he could make a safe escape now. Released from the excruciating party, he resolved not to attend one again if he could possibly avoid it. Not that it had been entirely bad, as he'd seen that video again.

Brought up short by that last thought, Qui-Gon decided it was time for some serious meditation to get his disordered thoughts back under control.

During the following week, Qui-Gon didn't think about the video at all. He'd had one dream that could have been about the singer, Obi-Wan, but, by the time he'd cleaned up the resultant mess that had followed the dream and had gotten over his disgust with himself at having wet dreams at his age, the dream images had faded enough that he couldn't be sure. All in all, he thought his little mini-obsession was over with and he was back to his normal self again. That he thought of the singer by his first name only, as if he knew him, didn't deter him from this belief in the least.

As he walked through the omnipresent hawkers that thronged all of Coruscant's marketplaces, he had his mind on his shopping list and on keeping an eye out for pick-pockets. Coruscant might be the most 'civilized' planet in the Republic, but all that really meant was that you had to be leery of thieves everywhere, rather than just in the seedier parts of the city. His attention was so thoroughly taken by these tasks, that he almost missed the screen set in one of the small kiosks that lined the way. The screen that was filled with the very video he'd almost managed to forget.

Caught once again by Obi-Wan's beseeching eyes, Qui-Gon didn't notice the jostling he took for stopping short in the stream of traffic. He didn't notice the curses of those who were rather irritated at him for being an impediment to said stream of traffic. He also didn't notice when someone stole his wallet, a fact that would be somewhat embarrassing later when he tried to purchase something. But none of that mattered as he stared at the screen and was stared back at.

No, he had to be imagining it. There was no way that someone in a recorded media could look back at him. The mute appeal in those bewitching eyes and those out-raised arms were just an actor's art used to draw the audience in.

Wait, he was sure Obi-Wan hadn't raised his arms like that the last time he'd seen this video. And the being that was chasing him through the maze-like halls was more in focus now; still a shadow, but more defined, dark and threatening against the white of the walls and the lights highlighting Obi-Wan as he ran. One advantage to being a Jedi, even one with a deteriorating mental stability, was an almost perfect recall when he chose to exercise it, and he was sure the video was different this time. Maybe it had been different from the first time to the second and he had just attributed the differences to his not paying full attention when he'd been in the café.

Between the eyes that appeared to actually see him and the subtle differences in what should have been a static recording, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck begin to stiffen. For which he instantly berated himself. There were different versions of the video. That explained the differences. And the eyes were what he'd thought they were, a trick to get the viewer involved in the video. He was far too experienced to be drawn in by such things. He was going to have to do some serious meditation to find out what it was that was throwing him off like this. He'd get to it as soon as he finished his shopping.

He'd managed to get a replacement account card to replace the stolen one within an hour of finding out it was gone. He'd told the clerk replacing it that he'd lost it, not bothering to add that he'd lost it to a thief while he'd stared a video like a love-struck youth. It wasn't that Qui-Gon was embarrassed about it so much as it wasn't information that the clerk actually needed. Right. Even he didn't buy that one.

He'd finished his shopping as fast as he could and rushed back to his quarters in the temple, needing the quiet and familiarity to bring his shaky emotions back under control. This obsession with the video had come out of nowhere and seemed to be growing exponentially with every viewing. This couldn't just be a case of lust. He'd felt that emotion before and it had never eroded his self-control so completely, not even when he'd been an awkward teenager under the goad of raging hormones. He had to figure out what was at the root of his irrational behavior and get a handle on it before he lost all sense of proportion.

Maybe it was time to call in the big guns. He'd go see Yoda.

After determining that Yoda was in one of the public halls the Jedi used for entertainment, Qui-Gon decided he'd go see him immediately. He could use a little entertainment to distract him from his current dilemma. As he entered the hall, he spotted two things at roughly the same time.

The first was Yoda, seated on a stool and happily moving his ears in time to some music. The second was the screen where a video was playing, providing the music that Yoda was currently ear-dancing to. His accelerated heartbeat, quickened breathing and nearly overwhelming need to watch the video that had been haunting him for days now, clearly showed how much he needed to get Yoda's help. After he watched the video. Yoda was enjoying himself too much for Qui-Gon to feel comfortable interrupting him.

The threadbare tatters of his self-deceit couldn't disguise that lie for Qui-Gon. As he stared intently at he screen, he vaguely wondered how long he'd been lying to himself and exactly what he'd been lying about.

The video had changed yet again. It was obvious that Obi-Wan was looking for someone as he glanced wildly around, as he reached out a hand trembling with exhaustion and fear, as his eyes spoke of a besiegement that had gone on so long that his reserves were all depleted and his only hope of survival lay in the securing of an ally. In the daze he'd sunk into while viewing the video, Qui-Gon accepted without question that that ally was him and the only question was how to get to Obi-Wan's side.

Other things had changed also. The chase in the halls was a closer run thing, though it once again ended inconclusively on a fading close-up of the singer, rather than any resolution of the chase. And perhaps it was just Qui-Gon's own state of arousal that influenced his perceptions, but it seemed that the chase had an added sexual element to it, as if the dark figure wanted more than Obi-Wan's death at the conclusion of his hunt.

Too, there was very little left in the video of anything but the chase. The first time he'd seen it, the chase hadn't been there at all, at least that he could recall now. The second time, the chase had only been a part of the whole, widely interspersed with scenes of Obi-Wan on a stage, singing his song. When he thought that by the next time he saw it, and he knew there would be a next time, that the chase would have become almost the whole video, he felt a stirring in the Force that usually presaged the coming of very bad things. Qui-Gon felt a distinct jab of fear along with a strong desire to protect. He tried to tell himself that the Force was alerting him to his current mental breakdown, but he couldn't quite be sure of that. He really needed Yoda, needed someone outside the problem to tell him how crazy he was. After all, you couldn't truly love or fear for something that was really just a work of fiction, could you? He was misattributing his own emotions and it had to stop.

After a couple of more videos, Yoda hopped down from his stool, crooked one of his fingers at Qui-Gon, encouraging him to follow, and then made his way to a secluded balcony that overlooked the temple. He took a seat on the railing, bringing his head at least somewhat closer to Qui-Gon's.

"Come to me, you wish. The Force whispers of trouble, whispers you name. Tell me, you will." With that Yoda looked at him expectantly.

So Qui-Gon did. As he told the story, he cringed at how little serenity he'd been displaying as of late. None of this was fit behavior for a Jedi. But he told the whole tale, regardless of his own embarrassment, stripping away the last of the self-deceit in order that the truth of the matter could be reached. When he was done, he waited for Yoda to tell him what to do.

But Yoda seemed to be lost in thought. He hmmed now and then, but otherwise seemed content to stare at the skyline visible beyond the balcony. After ten minutes of this, Qui-Gon realized that he was impatiently tapping his foot on the floor. Settling into himself, he resolved to wait quietly until Yoda was ready to talk. This resolve lasted approximately 10 more minutes, before Qui-Gon finally couldn't take it anymore.

"I had been hoping that you would offer me some advice on how to deal with my problem, Master."

Yoda grinned at him. "Mean you do, that hoped I would tell you what to do."

"Yes, Master. I'm at a loss and too much has happened too fast. I can't seem to find my way. Any help you could give me would be much appreciated."

Yoda's grin disappeared. "Help I cannot give you. Find your own way, you must. Difficult time ahead for you, I see. Trust yourself and the Force, you must."

"Thank you for your time, Master," Qui-Gon said, as he turned to leave the amazingly unhelpful being. His sleeve was snagged before he could actually do so.

Yoda smiled again and said, "You need not my help, but the help of another. And help the other, you will also do. A vision I had, of you with a Padawan. Time it is for you to move on."

"Master, certain realizations have come to me during my recent problems. That perhaps I'm not as accepting of the past as I'd thought. That perhaps I wasn't as content with my life as I had thought. But all of that still doesn't lead me to the conclusion that I should take another Padawan. I'm too old to deal with a child anymore. By the time the one I'd chosen was old enough to have a decent conversation with, I'd have died of exasperation years before. And all of this is moot, anyway, as I seem to be in the midst of a nervous breakdown and surely you wouldn't want a child exposed to that." Qui-Gon sighed as he saw Yoda's grin widen. That didn't mean anything good, he was sure.

"Spoke of a Padawan, I did, not a child. Eyes are for seeing, not mouths, use them you should. Identified with a braid, most Padawan's are. Find the braid, find the padawan." With that final bit of obscureness, Yoda left Qui-Gon alone.

Realizing that he'd made a mistake in seeking out never-give-a-direct-answer-where-an-obscure-aphorism-would-do Yoda for help, Qui-Gon decided to take the traditional method of dealing with emotional problems, one used for countless generations: getting drunk. This was, of course, how he'd ended up in a bar that just happened to be playing music videos, and just happened to play the one he didn't want to / desperately needed to see. Being here had led to him hearing Obi-Wan call his name while those eyes stared at him and those arms reached for him and it was too much, it couldn't be real, it had to stop. And so Qui-Gon yelled at Obi-Wan, told him to stop, that he couldn't take it.

If it hadn't been a bar, where every night at least one or two people descended into a drunken madness, someone probably would have called the police. Or a hospital. But instead, they just looked to see if he was going to do anything worse than yelling at the video and then proceeded to ignore him in favor of their own problems when he settled down.

But Qui-Gon couldn't really settle down, not with the scenes playing before him. He'd been right, there were almost no more stage scenes this time, it was mostly all chase. The dark figure once again more defined; tall, with no skin visible, all of it hidden behind black clothes, black gloves, black mask. The mask was frightening, inhuman, though the man behind it was clearly humanoid in shape, making the breath coming through it loud and harsh. Qui-Gon heard the creature laugh, obviously enjoying the fear it induced in its prey. Obi-Wan ran ahead, sometimes confounding his hunter through some quick move down one passage or another, sometimes little more than a couple of steps in front. It looked as if he'd been caught at some time. His clothes had tears, there were visible bruises and he was favoring his right leg and left shoulder, both of which had blood on them. The sight of which made Qui-Gon hot with rage against the dark figure and cold with fear for Obi-Wan.

It occurred to Qui-Gon that no one else seemed to notice that the video had changed. Were the people on Coruscant really so jaded that a music video of a man being hunted was one they'd actually enjoy. He'd seen the video far too often to think that it was losing popularity, yet he'd heard no one else comment on the changes in it, nor the content. Looking at his fellow bar patrons, he could see no sign that those who were watching the video were in the least disturbed. Seeing a man at the next table staring raptly at the screen, he asked "Do you really like this video?"

The man smiled drunkenly at him. "I'd guess from how you behaved when it came on that you don't, but I think it's great. Watching that guy move is like watching an advertisement for sex, as if his face hadn't already got you thinking about it, anyway."

Qui-Gon was amazed. Yes, Obi-Wan was attractive, but he'd looked better without the blood and bruises, or, at least, Qui-Gon thought so. "Don't you find all the different versions of the video bothersome? And the content of some of them, Obi-Wan being chased and hurt, doesn't that ruin the sexual mood?"

The man looked at Qui-Gon for a long moment, then broke out laughing. "Looks like someone's had too much to drink. Look, buddy, the video's just like all the rest of them, guy on stage dancing, moving about to show off the kid's body. But there's only one version and he's not hurt any. You really need to sober up before you start seeing pink rancors." With that, he turned back to the screen, content with what he saw there.

Though being the only one to see the changing video might be a sure sign of his growing insanity, a prompting of the Force made Qui-Gon sure that it was because he had a connection to it, to Obi-Wan, and that he had to find a way to help before it was too late.

Looking at the screen again, not even bothered by the fact that the video was still playing even though it should have ended long before now, Qui-Gon tried to relax, to open himself fully to the Force. After several moments of no success, he quickly downed the shot he'd ordered when he came in and was finally able to loosen up enough. Viewing the video through his enhanced Force senses, he felt as if the world shifted slightly around him. Moving with that shift, he turned to see Obi-Wan in front of him, hand held out again, urging him on. Opening himself to the moment, all his doubts stilled, he reached out and took Obi-Wan's hand.

And felt the world shift again with a sudden snap as he grasped living flesh.

No screen between them. A living Obi-Wan in front of him. A living Obi-Wan who took the offered hand and pulled him into an embrace, whispering, "I knew you'd come."

His voice was beautiful, the refined accent that hadn't been discernable when he was singing making the low tenor even more pleasing. Everything about him was pleasing, including the strong Force aura that surrounded him. Obi-Wan was obviously Force sensitive. Qui-Gon wondered if that was what had drew them together in this place. Which was where? Looking at something other than the vision in front of him, he realized that he was now in the maze of halls that he'd seen in the video. He didn't see the dark hunter anywhere, but he still felt a buzzing in the Force that told him that all wasn't right. Looking back at Obi-Wan, he asked, "Are we safe for the moment? Can you answer some questions?"

Obi-Wan smiled wearily at him, answered, "He's not here right now, though he'll be back before too long. Maybe with your help, he won't be so hard to drive away."

Qui-Gon smiled himself then. He reached out his other hand, the one that Obi-Wan didn't have a death grip on, and trailed it down the lovely face. Knowing it wasn't sensible, knowing he didn't really know this man yet, still he drew Obi-Wan in for a kiss.

Though he hadn't been open to relationships in the last 15 years, it didn't mean that he hadn't had any kind of contact at all. Even aging Jedi have needs. But none of those barely satisfying times, Sith, none of the really satisfying times he remembered from his youth, compared to that first kiss with Obi-Wan. The second one wiped out the memories altogether. Qui-Gon wasn't sure how he was going to survive it if they ever went beyond kissing. It was nice to see from Obi-Wan's glazed expression that Qui-Gon wasn't the only one feeling this pull. Keeping hold of the hand that had drawn him in, he sat down on the floor, pulling Obi-Wan with him, running his free hand up through that soft hair that was almost as long as his. His fingers ran up against something, which, after some tugging to free it from the hair it was entangled in, turned out to be a braid. A long, thin braid that started behind Obi-Wan's right ear and trailed down almost to his waist, almost six inches longer than the rest of hair. A Padawan's braid.

He felt what could only be termed a sense of relief at seeing this sign from Yoda's vision. A Padawan's braid, but not a child, Yoda had said. Well, here was the braid and Obi-Wan was definitely not a child. He'd guess, both from what the vision had implied and from the fact that Obi-Wan was alone and in trouble, that his master had passed into the Force. It made so much sense now, the connection with Obi-Wan, the almost preternatural need to be near him, help him; all of these were signs of a bond. He'd formed, Force knows how, a training bond (more than that, maybe, considering the kiss) with someone he'd only seen in a video. Someone who apparently lived in said video and had somehow managed to bring Qui-Gon there, too. So not everything made sense, yet, he'd have to get some answers before he could figure out how to get them out of this.

Over the course of several hours, during which Obi-Wan had somehow managed to wind himself so close to Qui-Gon that he was almost sitting in his lap, Qui-Gon ascertained that Obi-Wan wasn't seriously hurt and they managed to tell each other their parts of the tale.

Obi-Wan and his master, Morten Harket, had been on an undercover assignment to an Outer Rim planet called Tattooine. They'd been sent to investigate rumors of Hutt involvement in a nasty civil war that had been brewing on Norvay, another Outer Rim planet, but one rich in minerals and a member of the Republic. At the end of the mission, as they'd been set to leave, they'd been discovered and captured, though only after a long fight that left Obi-Wan's master seriously hurt.

They'd been separated, Obi-Wan going to a slaver's yard, his master to a cell. After he'd been prepped for sale, an experience he wouldn't tell Qui-Gon about, he'd been pulled out of the yard and back to his master. The Hutts hadn't been able to make Harket tell them what he'd found out or what he'd managed to report, even though he was already injured and in pain, and so they wanted to use Obi-Wan against him. Master Harket, knowing that he was dead anyway, and knowing what fate the Hutts had planned for Obi-Wan, had had to make a hard choice. He could have given up on the mission, thereby not having to watch his apprentice be tortured in front of him, but that choice would have allowed the Hutts to cover their tracks and continue in the plans that would have cost thousands of lives. And he'd then be dead and unable to help Obi-Wan at all. Being made a slave would be a bad enough fate for anyone, but for someone as beautiful as his apprentice, there would be no doubt of the use he would be put to.

Though it had pained him to do it, he'd felt it was better to stop the Hutts' plans and avert the coming war, even though it had meant that Obi-Wan would be made to suffer. Better the quicker death at the hands of the Hutts than the long, degrading one he'd have faced as a pleasure slave. Having seen the determination in Harket's eyes, the Hutts had decided to cut their losses and killed him out of hand.

Obi-Wan had almost died himself as the severed bond and the resultant pain had caused him to go into convulsions. The Hutts had hurriedly called in a slave to fetch a healer, but as the young slave had entered the room, everything had changed.

Unremarkable in looks and still very young, the slave had been a veritable powerhouse of Force energy. When his eyes and Obi-Wan's had met, they had both been overwhelmed with visions; some variations on a theme, others wildly different, but all ending at a confrontation between the two of them, the fate of the universe in the balance, always ending with Obi-Wan's death at the hands of the other. But always ending with Obi-Wan winning out, regardless of death. The last thing Obi-Wan had saw in that cell before shock, pain and grief had overtaken him, had been the young slave, outwardly calm, but with a glowing anger emanating from his eyes.

He'd woken up in the maze, alone. He hadn't been able to tell how long he'd been unconscious, nor where he was or how he'd got there. After much searching, he'd found a number of rooms that had various things to offer, such as food, sanitary facilities and a place to sleep, but he hadn't found another person. For months, he'd spent his time mapping out the halls as best he could, but they'd seemed to change from time to time and, no matter how far he went or what way he tried, he'd always end up back where he'd started eventually.

It was then that he'd started to lose hope. Alone, with no occupation but the endless searching and grieving for his lost master, he'd started to contemplate suicide. And he might have gone through with it if he hadn't found the studio. A full studio, with state of the art equipment, in the midst of empty, endless halls. At first, he'd just played around to divert himself from his hopelessness. But he'd always been a talented musician and, in this place, he had no other outlet for the thoughts that haunted him.

So he'd started recording the songs he'd thought up. Then he'd found the virtual band, and, for a little while at least, they'd made things a little less lonely, though they couldn't really interact with him. One day, after he'd been fiddling with some controls to see what they did, he'd discovered an amazing thing about the room. The screens that covered the wall on one side of the room showed another world. Coruscant, to be exact.

At first, he'd thought that it was simply old recordings, but then he'd seen people looking at 'net feeds and the dates had been current, or as close to current as he'd been able to calculate in the timeless corridors. And, anyway, it never seemed to repeat and it was always there when he turned it on. He'd spent hours trying to find out where the feed had been coming from, without succeeding in the least. It was when he'd found the video recorder that he'd first seen a possible way out. If the video recorder could transmit out on the same path that the feed came in on, he could transmit a request for help. Someone could trace the path and find out where he was.

But no matter what he'd tried, he couldn't find a way to transmit out. The brief hope had flamed and died, leaving him more despondent than before. It was at this low point that things had gotten worse. He'd started hearing voices. Well, just one voice, really. His master's voice. He'd thought that this was just a sign of the stress he was under, but then his master had appeared before him, showing him what had transpired to put him here.

The visions that had occurred in the cell on Tattooine had made the young slave, Anakin, aware of all his possible fates. Angry at what he'd seen, he'd used his formidable, though untrained, Force talents to quest along those fates, trying to find the best one to take. In doing so, he'd inadvertently linked to a future self.

This future self, who called himself Vader, had seen all his plans come to naught because of Obi-Wan. He'd been reading ancient texts, trying to find a way to overcome his setbacks, when he'd found a text expounding a theory about a way to possibly alter the past. Following what he'd read in the book, he'd been searching along his timestream, trying to find a branch, a decision he'd made, that he could then undo and thereby change his fate.

Instead, he'd met himself. Though not really himself, as in his past, he hadn't met Obi-Wan until he was a little older. But still, they were still connected by potential fate, so here was a connection to the past and a way to alter things in his favor. Anakin was, after all, no stronger than Vader, being the same being. But Vader had training Anakin didn't, which easily allowed Vader to take control.

The Hutts had moved Obi-Wan to their personal healer when he'd remained unconscious, not wanting to waste the profit they'd make off the sale of a baby Jedi, especially one as attractive as this one. They'd instructed the healer to try his best for the next week, and if Obi-Wan was still out of it then, they'd sell him to one of the lower end brothels, where nobody would care if he were awake or not. Anakin, under Vader's control, had managed to track him there. Just as he'd been about to make sure that Obi-Wan never woke up, he'd had a vision.

The vision had shown him that if Obi-Wan died, someone else would just take his place and Vader would still fail. Frustrated, he'd started questing along the potential paths, trying to find one that would allow him to achieve what he wanted. And then there it had been, like a gift from the Force. Things would work out in his favor if Obi-Wan lived, but was emotionally broken. If that happened, Obi-Wan would take the same paths, but his heart wouldn't be in them and he would fail in the end. All he'd have to do was figure out what he could do that would destroy Obi-Wan inside, yet leave him functioning on the outside.

The Obi-Wan that had been his master had almost been broken by the death of his own master. Vader had known that Obi-Wan had been in love even as a child first meeting him. That Qui-Gon had been oblivious, had also been readily apparent. His Obi-Wan's grief at the death of his master had been palpable, but he'd eventually overcome it, giving his life over to being the best Jedi he could so as to honor his master. That sense of duty had led him to taking Anakin as his Padawan. But it hadn't been enough for Anakin. He'd tried to get closer to his master in many ways, but the most Obi-Wan had ever given him had been a bemused affection.

As the years had gone by, Anakin's love for his master had transmuted into desire and he'd tried his best to get Obi-Wan to see him in that light, but he had been rebuffed and told to go and find someone who could return his affection as he desired. He'd had to repress his desire, to eventually sublimate it into his more chaste affection for Amidala, to finally turn it into hate as everything he wanted was either destroyed or denied to him by Obi-Wan and the council. It had taken a lot of years and much personal pain to make them all pay for their actions, but he'd succeeded in the end, even eventually killing his former master. Only to still lose in the end.

His master's death wouldn't work in this reality, either, as he was already dead and yet the visions the young Anakin had shared with this Obi-Wan still had the same unacceptable outcome. So he had to think of something else, something bad but not so debilitating as to either kill or permanently disable Obi-Wan.

One of the books he'd been reading before he'd found that last one, had mentioned the idea of Force prisons. In theory, you could move someone to another plane of the Force; not death, but not life either. Their corporeal bodies would be sustained by the Force energy while they were there, aging as they normally would, but they would be both physically and psychically separated from the rest of the universe. They would create the form of their prison themselves, but they wouldn't be able create any real company in it, as only their thoughts would be present.

Thinking about how devastating it would be to be alone, without knowing why, without even knowing if it would ever end, Vader had decided to try this path. If it worked, he'd have to watch to make sure that Obi-Wan didn't try to kill himself, something the book said was possible. But the book had also mentioned that whoever created the Force prison would have influence over what happened in it. He'd be able to stop it from happing if Obi-Wan tried, he was sure.

He'd also read that the person in the Force prison could, if they were strong in the Force themselves, manage to see the plane on which they'd come from. If they were very strong, they could even interact with it in small ways. He'd have to watch for that also, because his master had definitely been very strong in the Force and there was no reason to suspect that this Obi-Wan was different. But none of that really mattered, because the only way out of a Force prison was to be released by who'd put you there. Well, you could also be freed by someone you shared a bond with, but seeing as the only person that Obi-Wan had shared a bond with had just died, there wasn't any danger of that happening.

No, Obi-Wan was going to be alone for a very long time. And one day, when Obi-Wan was reduced to a quivering heap, he'd finally let him go.

After finding out what had led to his predicament, after finding out just what his predicament really was, Obi-Wan had been stunned for a while. But as he'd been sitting there in a daze, it had come to him that his master was here with him. His master, whom he'd bonded to, was here and hadn't he just found out that a bondmate could help him escape?

But his master had pointed out that the bond had been broken with his death. The brief flare of hope Obi-Wan had felt died at that. He'd known then that he was stuck in this place until Vader decided to release him. The tears he'd managed to hold back since he'd first awakened here could no longer be contained. He was alone and he knew instinctively that his master couldn't stay, so he'd continue to be alone, completely at the mercy of someone who wished him ill. His master had pulled him onto his lap then, petting him as he'd used to do when a younger Obi-Wan had woken with bad dreams. Taking his comfort as he could, Obi-Wan had gone to sleep, waking to find his master gone, with nothing to show that he'd been there but a note. The note said he should use the studio as it was meant to be used, that his Force talent had chosen this venue for his prison for a reason, that he should never give up hope and that his master loved him always, even if he wasn't there to show it.

Having nothing better to do, Obi-Wan had followed his master's instructions. He'd continued to record the music. He'd even made videos from the songs. He'd always loved videos, even though most of them were pretty inane. He'd just liked the added visual, especially if it related back to the song, enhancing the message the music was trying to convey. Unfortunately, most of his songs had been pretty melancholic, hardly surprising all things considered, so he'd mostly just recorded himself singing his heart out in front of a virtual band.

Though it had kept him occupied, none of this could really distract him from the pervasive depression he'd felt. The only thing that had really been able to help stave off his sorrow was the thought that he might be able to contact someone, anyone, on the other plane that he'd do anything to return to. Though every attempt to transmit a message via the recorder had met with failure. If his Force talent had created the things around him, why couldn't he use them in the way he though he should?

It'd been a dream that had led to him thinking about trying to broadcast one of the videos. He'd created, via the Force, a music studio. Maybe to successfully connect outside of his prison, he'd have to use music, instead of the spoken messages he'd been trying. That this was illogical hadn't mattered. He'd use whatever visualization needed if it helped him to channel the Force in the right way.

Less than a week later, his video had been playing all over Coruscant. Though it had certainly became very popular, it hadn't altered Obi-Wan's situation any.

A month later, he felt a stirring in the Force. Looking up, he'd seen another Jedi staring at a screen playing his video. Unsure of what he was doing, he'd tried to make a connection to him. Just as he'd felt something, though he wasn't sure what, the man had turned and walked away, taking the sensation with him. Obi-Wan had felt a resurgence of the depression he'd been fighting, but eventually had managed to convince himself that it was a good sign.

Just as he'd convinced himself that things were looking up, he'd had his second visitor, and this one had most certainly not been welcome.

He'd recognized Vader from his master's sending and knew that his coming here while Obi-Wan wasn't a sobbing mess didn't bode well for Obi-Wan. Not caring to find out how right he'd been, Obi-Wan had fled down the endless corridors, using his knowledge of the place, precarious as it was, to keep ahead of his pursuer.

His fleeing hadn't stopped him from hearing what Vader had said, though. The voice that had come out of the vocoder hadn't been human, either in sound or in content, detailing plans that Vader had formed for him. He'd said that he'd grown impatient waiting for Obi-Wan to crumble. Had said that he knew that Obi-Wan's master had visited him, explaining all about Vader, helping Obi-Wan to cope with his dilemma. Since Vader hadn't been able to stop it from happening, he'd just have to help things along now. He'd alternated between taunting Obi-Wan with his helplessness and gloating about finally, after years of waiting, being able to consummate the desire that he'd felt for his former master.

He'd also laughed about what the slavers had done to Obi-Wan, saying it would be nothing to what Vader would do, if only he could control himself after having had to wait so long. All of this had been said in the near monotone of the vocoder, punctuated by the too loud breaths between sentences, making the words more frightening by the very lack of any emotion behind them. It had been that fear that had finally pushed Obi-Wan into overcoming his panic and attacking back. He'd masked his Force signature as best he could and had managed to get behind his foe. More than a little intimidated by Vader's size and malice, Obi-Wan nevertheless had thrown himself at the man's back while, at the same time, he'd lashed out with the Force. He hadn't known who had been more surprised, Vader or himself, when Vader had then disappeared from his prison. A whisper from the Force had told him it was only temporary and that his time was running out.

He'd been trying to calm down after the attack when he'd felt another stirring in the Force. And then he'd seen that same Jedi, standing around at a party, talking to the Senator from Naboo. Obi-Wan had never met the Senator, but his master had always disliked him and had warned Obi-Wan to keep his distance. Obviously, no one had warned this Jedi. It was a shame, as anyone as handsome as that shouldn't have just be left out for the wolves. Not that the man wasn't old enough to take care of himself, he'd been wearing the robes of a master, but there'd been something so vulnerable about him. Obi-Wan had felt a strong need to comfort and protect him, which had been ridiculous considering his own situation.

Knowing that he'd have to do something and soon, Obi-Wan had thrown all of himself into trying to make the connection. This time, he'd seemed to have a little more luck, especially after his video had started playing on a screen at the party. Obi-Wan had been surprised to see that the video now included scenes of his flight from Vader, though they'd been seamlessly integrated so that they seemed to belong.

But almost as soon as he'd connected, he'd lost it, as the Jedi had looked away from the screen. He had heard him ask after the name of the singer. He'd been thankful, then, that the video had a title bar bearing the title and artist. The Jedi had his name and he'd felt a brief connection with him. Things were definitely going better.

Obi-Wan had had to laugh at that last thought, after a week had passed and no further connections had been made. He'd not even seen the Jedi at all. He'd started pacing, afraid that Vader would come back before he'd have another chance with the Jedi and he'd not been sure that he could repeat his previous victory over him.

But as he'd been fretting, he'd felt the familiar stir in the Force. He'd been hoarding energy all week in an anticipation of his next attempt. This time, he'd stood on the stage looking right at the screens as he'd tried for the connection, performing the song, putting every bit of his longing into it. He'd felt the mind that time, had seen the Jedi's eyes look right back at him, clearly seeing him, so enmeshed in this joining that he'd missed the thief who'd come up behind him. Even as Obi-Wan had tried to warn him of the pick-pocket, he'd felt the connection fade, though the Jedi still seemed to be staring. If he hadn't broken the connection, what had?

It hadn't been a stirring the Force, but a blaring call that had alerted Obi-Wan to the fact that Vader had returned.

Eventually, after too many close calls and after having taken a little damage, Obi-Wan had managed to get rid of Vader once again. He'd known, however, that his reprieve wouldn't be as long this time.

And so it had gone, Obi-Wan desperately trying to strengthen his connection to Qui-Gon. He'd actually learned Qui-Gon's name from Vader, who'd said that Qui-Gon had been Obi-Wan's master in his reality and that he had died at the hands of someone nowhere near as powerful as Vader. Though he'd meant to make Obi-Wan despair at that, he'd actually given him hope. If Qui-Gon had been his master in one reality, he could be his master in this one. Maybe the connection he'd managed to make with Qui-Gon was a training bond, which would mean that he could help Obi-Wan out of here.

His desire to see Qui-Gon, growing stronger by the second it had seemed, probably fueled by a growing bond, had actually hampered his ability to sense when Vader had come, and, as a consequence, he had taken even more hits. Exhausted and in pain, he'd known he was near the end of his strength. He wouldn't be able to hold out forever, and once Vader started on him, he probably wouldn't be able to connect with Qui-Gon anymore. That thought had hurt far worse than the wounds he'd received. Whatever was going to happen, it was going to happen soon.

And soon it was that Qui-Gon had somehow, miraculously, crossed over to his prison. Though he'd have preferred for it to be the other way, at least he wasn't alone anymore.

Feeling Vader's return, Obi-Wan stood up, preparing to fight him, hoping that with Qui-Gon's help he'd be easier to get rid of this time.

Even before he'd reached them, Vader was once again calling out his taunts. He'd added some about Qui-Gon now, so he obviously knew he was here, though he didn't seem to be too intimidated by that fact. Obi-Wan just blotted them out, instead gathering his strength for the coming fight. Until he heard Vader say that if he couldn't win, then he'd at least make sure that Obi-Wan didn't either. He was going to collapse the Force prison, which would effectively kill anyone in it. Meaning Obi-Wan, of course, but also Qui-Gon.

Though the bond between them was Force driven, Obi-Wan still felt what could only be love for Qui-Gon. He knew it could become a great love if given time. But that time was going to be taken from them. And though he'd like to live, it was the thought of Qui-Gon dying that had him so upset. Thinking about all the effort he had taken to get him here, he drew the Force around him and, kissing Qui-Gon one last time, sent him back from where he'd came.

Qui-Gon found himself back in the bar. No one seemed to be staring at him, asking questions about his disappearance, but then, it was a bar, and most of the people here were very drunk.

Thinking about how he'd wound up here again, he figured that it was Obi-Wan who'd sent him back. He'd also heard Vader's threats, felt the spike of fear coming from both his Padawan and himself, already planning out in his head what to do, but Obi-Wan had acted before him. First Qui-Gon was going to save Obi-Wan from Vader, then he would smack that lovely bottom for not consulting with his master before acting.

But first, he had to get Obi-Wan here. He knew where the Force prison was now, having been there. He definitely had a bond with Obi-Wan, so that wasn't a problem. Now how did he use that information to retrieve his love? Yoda would know, Yoda knew everything.

Putting on a burst of Force enhanced speed, Qui-Gon quickly made his way to the small master, finding him once again in the entertainment hall. As he was about to ask his question, Yoda put up a hand to silence him. With his ears held down and a sorrowful expression on his face, Yoda pointed at the screen. Looking up at the screen, at first Qui-Gon couldn't see anything, it was just shadows. But he did hear things: small, hurt gasps almost covered up by the sound of mechanical breathing, the sound of flesh smacking flesh.

Knowing what was happening, but unable to admit it yet, Qui-Gon started to pick out details from the darkened screen, the faint sheen of one of the walls that made up Obi-Wan's prison, Obi-Wan's pale flesh showing now and again as a dark shadow moved rhythmically above it. Consumed with hatred, for a moment all Qui-Gon could think about was killing Vader. But then sense returned, and he knew that it was far more important to get Obi-Wan. If he could kill Vader in the process, so much the better.

Turning to Yoda, he asked, "How do I use the bond to get him?"

Without evasion, in straightforward Basic, Yoda replied, "Call to him through the bond. Don't stop until you have his attention. Then reach forward through the Force as you did before, only this time, you pull him through."

Without wasting time to even thank the master, Qui-Gon did exactly that. But Obi-Wan refused to answer him, caught up in his need to save Qui-Gon and to keep him from sharing any of his fate. He could live with, or, better yet, die with this humiliation, but he needed to know that Qui-Gon was safe.

But Qui-Gon wasn't giving up. He called to Obi-Wan again and again, telling him it was no better for Qui-Gon to be safe than Obi-Wan, because one without the other would only lead to misery. If Obi-Wan insisted on dying then Qui-Gon would follow, only he'd much rather Obi-Wan listen to him, so that they could both live. Some amount of sense finally made it through Obi-Wan's head and he opened himself to the bond he shared with Qui-Gon. Which made Qui-Gon falter for a moment as Obi-Wan's pain, physical and emotional, threatened to overwhelm him. But he felt a steadying touch from Yoda and was able to focus on his task. It was the work of a moment to feel Obi-Wan's hand once again in his, to finally bring Obi-Wan back home.

Holding his apprentice in his arms, he wrapped his cloak around him. When the tears started, he kissed them, but made no attempt to stop them, gently rocking Obi-Wan until the storm abated somewhat.

Obi-Wan finally looked up at him, his control of himself obviously tenuous, and asked, "What now?"

Still holding his love tightly, he said, "Well first, we'll take you to a healer." Seeing the look on Obi-Wan's face, he quickly continued. "No arguments, Padawan. It is my duty as your master to see that your health is looked after. You do want me to be your master, don't you?" Qui-Gon was pretty sure about this, but it really was Obi-Wan's choice.

A quick, whispered, "Yes."

"Well, then, after the healers let you go, then we'll see about getting you settled in my quarters."

"And then?" Again, barely audible.

He was afraid his grip was too tight, he felt such an overwhelming urge to hold this man and never let go. Kissing the too sorrowful face once again, he said, "And then we live happily ever after."

He felt every trace of loneliness, gathered over the course of too many years, evaporate under the sun that was Obi-Wan's smile. It hadn't been a lie to make Obi-Wan feel better. As long as Qui-Gon could see that smile, he was sure that it was true.

No one noticed one small, unremarkable boy exit the ship that had just set down on Coruscant. The Force had proved helpful with that. And no one noticed him as he made his way to the Senate building. And no one noticed him enter the office of the Senator from Naboo, but there that lack of attention came decidedly to a stop.

Palpatine looked up at the disturbance that he'd both felt in the Force and heard in his office. A small boy stood regarding him with eyes far to old for his face.

The boy spoke. "I bring you greetings from the future, my Master."

Fin