PART 76

Obi-Wan tried not to let dread taint the adrenaline flowing through his system as they rode out into the morning sunlight, knowing that fear could slow his reflexes and impede the clarity of his thinking.

Qui-Gon's reasoning had much to recommend it, and if he had not been persuaded he would not have agreed, but he wished they were riding forth with an army at their backs, not just three men-- wherever those three men were. Panaka had positioned them earlier to wait, and Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon were riding alone.

He felt vulnerable and unsettled, and not all of it came from the confrontation they expected.

As if he could hear Obi-Wan's thoughts, the prince shifted in his saddle, turning to speak, voice quiet and serious. "About this morning...my apologies."

"No apologies are necessary; no violation occurred," Obi-Wan told him, happy his voice didn't quaver. It was, after all, the truth.

Nonetheless, it disturbed him. Not only Qui-Gon's rapid passion that had quickly risen to orgasm, but his own involvement in provoking that climax. He had responded to Qui-Gon with passion of his own, letting the desires of his body take control of him. He could still feel the tingle that had gone through him as he had reached out and let his own tongue slide along Qui-Gon's.

The soft touches they had indulged in over the past few days in a effort to lend credence to the belief that they were indeed lovers, had not left Obi-Wan unaffected. Indeed, they had been very much affecting him, leaving him open to desires and wants hitherto unheard of.

And they could not be stopped or nipped in the bud. If today's experiment came out as they planned, there would be more playacting to do in front of Sira, and they must maintain the facade of sexual involvement.

Obi-Wan sighed. If he were not more careful, it would grow to be more than a facade, and he would not have that. It would cost him his pride, his self-esteem, his final chances at becoming a Knight... and it might cost Qui-Gon his life, in a crucial second of distraction. If Sira had been carrying a knife this morning...

A shudder rose through Obi-Wan's spine, and he squared

his shoulders. "It is only a physical function, one that I participate in for the sake of duty." He knew the harsh words would hurt the prince, but it was best not to encourage him. "You may do as you like in the interests of verisimilitude, but remember. I am Jedi."

"I remember." Qui-Gon's voice was soft with regret. "Even when my body forgets, I remember."

"Good." Obi-Wan did not relent, spurring his horse forward. Sith, but the man was irresistible now that he had learned respect for the Jedi way. It hurt Obi-Wan's heart to see him deprive himself so, torturing himself with the meaningless tease of a charade put on for their enemies. He did not deserve such cruelty. But sometimes, cruelty was an inevitable element of what would ultimately prove to be kindness.

They neared the woods, and its concealing shadows would necessitate the resumption of that cruel pretense. "Remember, my prince. Be aware at every moment, especially of archers." They each wore light mailshirts beneath their tunics, but to don more armor would have been a dead giveaway that they expected trouble.

Obi-Wan glanced about alertly, then let his features subside into a look of contented enjoyment. "It is a hot day, a fine day for a swim." He shot a glance under his lashes that he hoped looked adequately flirtatious, and Qui-Gon looked stunned, and then swallowed hard.

"I could use a cold swim," he muttered, spurring Sebulba ahead.

"The view is most enticing from here, my prince," Obi-Wan called. He feared his attempts at flirting were as insipid now as they'd been this morning, but really had never tried to act as a lover before.

Aside from which, the view was enticing. Qui-Gon made a splendid figure in his saddle as he rode easily. It would be quite easy to become mesmerized by the rise and fall of the prince's buttocks; indeed, Obi-Wan could feel his body responding to the sight.

He remembered the cold of the water the last time they had visited the lake and the cold of the snow as he'd lain in it during his penance. Both served to cool his body's response and he set his mind firmly on the task at hand, scanning the trees for any hint of their ambush.

The space between himself and Qui-Gon had grown and Obi-Wan spurred his mare forward until they were again riding side by side. He let his leg brush along Qui-Gon's and ran his hand along the prince's arm, so that any audience they had might believe that it was merely passion that had spurred him to catch back up to the prince.

Beneath the cover of leaning in for a kiss he looked carefully behind them and then whispered, "We need to stick together." Qui-Gon nodded and closed the small distance between their mouths.

Obi-Wan kept his lips firmly closed and his attention on their surroundings; it would have been easy to slide into the kiss, to forget where they were and what they expected to be lying in waiting for them, but that way led to death.

Sure enough, as they pulled apart, the first arrow narrowly missed their faces, burying itself deeply in the neck of Obi-Wan's horse.

PART 77

"Cover!" Obi-Wan shouted, rolling clear of his dying mare, a knife already in his hand as he hit the ground, zeroing in on the point from which the arrow must have flown.

Qui-Gon lay heavily on the forest floor next to the dying mare, and Sebulba whinnied nervously at the scent of blood and broke into a run, leaving him. Obi-Wan's heart shot into his throat; the prince wasn't moving.

Obi-Wan's arm drew back and snapped forward instinctively, launching the knife forward, and he heard a cry; two men burst from the underbrush, with another behind, cursing and clutching at his scarlet-stained shoulder. One of them made straight for Qui-Gon, the other for Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan dodged to the side, desperate to put himself between the injured prince and his attacker-- but before he could arrive, Qui-Gon launched himself up with a roar and dove at his startled assailant, who barely managed to bring his blade to bear before Qui-Gon was on him, battering at him with his heavy sword.

Obi-Wan spun lithely and faced his own man, launching a lightning quick strike toward the man's undefended left arm, but he was blocked, and then the battle was begun, with the third man struggling to draw his bow and find a shot in spite of his wounded shoulder.

"Watch the archer!" Obi-Wan shouted in warning; he could not move as quickly as he would have liked under the mail, but Qui-Gon had insisted.

The two swordsmen were good; Obi-Wan found himself being forced to the side, where the archer could get a clear shot, and he fought harder, aware of the man drawing the string back to his cheek. His wounded arm was shaking, but this was close range; it was hardly likely he would miss his shot.

Before the archer could shoot another figure appeared behind him, drawing a length of rope around his neck and pulling him down, and behind him were two more figures, both with their swords in their hands, running toward the fight.

With renewed strength Obi-Wan quickly dispatched his man, moving to Qui-Gon's side to run through his opponent. He didn't, however, have any time to rejoice their victory before five more men advanced on them from the west.

Five on five seemed favorable odds until another group of men met them from the east, forcing the prince and his men to form a loose circle, fighting back to back.

"Next time will you listen when I advise more men?" Obi- Wan panted, hard-pressed but still optimistic.

"No!" Qui-Gon answered, managing a laugh in spite of the battle, and Obi-Wan found himself laughing into the grim face of his own opponent.

Obi-Wan's laughter didn't last long. Palpatine must be hard pressed to send out such a force; desperate and confident at once, and with increased respect for Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon's prowess in battle. These were all fine fighters, much more skilled than the first force that had menaced them.

Obi-Wan couldn't spare the breath for further conversation. That Palpatine could muster and dispatch so many men on King Yoda's own estate without rousing comment... it was a sign that the corruption had spread even further than Obi-Wan feared. Not even Panaka had seemed to know-- if they could trust him. Obi-Wan glanced nervously toward the dark-skinned man fighting hard at Prince Qui-Gon's left shoulder. If he were not loyal... but Obi-Wan could not be everywhere at once, and had as much as he could handle here on Qui-Gon's right.

His opponent ducked for his ankles, tempting Obi-Wan to flip right over his head, but that would have left Qui- Gon undefended, so he parried instead. The mail he wore was not conducive to gymnastics in any case. If Panaka were not loyal, he and his three handpicked men could have come in against Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon. Who would ever have known? And yet, the ruse of protection and a result of trusting Panaka might benefit Palpatine later, in some unseen way.

Obi-Wan hated intrigue; he had been raised away from it and the plots and strategies of it came only painfully to him.

He slid through an opening in his opponent's guard, blade dripping red when he pulled it back; between them they had dispatched perhaps a third of their opponents. One of Panaka's men was fighting with an arrow through his jerkin; not far in by the looks of it, perhaps stopped by chain mail. Obi-Wan cursed. The archer was climbing now, looking for a vantage point; he'd already thrown his boot knife.

"Cover your flank," he snapped to Qui-Gon, ducking inside the rough circle of men, and found what he was seeking at Panaka's belt-- a heavy hunting knife, ill-balanced for throwing, but he took it anyway and hefted it in his hand. The archer wasn't looking, confident of his comrades; Obi-Wan tested the knife in his hand and launched it with savage force. This time it took the man's throat and he toppled out of the tree.

Obi-Wan bulled back into the front lines, resuming his defense of Prince Qui-Gon; several more men were down, including their own ally who'd been shot.

"At least we've got the proof we need!" Qui-Gon sounded dangerously near being winded.

"Too large a risk to take for confirming a slave girl's guilt!" Obi-Wan skewered a man diving straight for the prince's chest. Furthermore, if they didn't dispatch all these men, they wouldn't be able to use Sira as they'd planned. And who knew if the woods might contain watchers who hadn't joined in the battle?

"Save your air for-- Qui-Gon!" Obi-Wan saw the feathered shaft diving for the Prince's throat a second too late. He lunged for it with his sword, already knowing he would miss. The air felt like molasses, his whole body heavy, moving in slow motion. But Panaka had seen it first; his body was already in motion, and the shaft sank deep into his flesh just below his throat, where the mail shirt he wore opened to let his head emerge.

Obi-Wan cursed; he was in time to catch Panaka and drag him inside the shrunken circle; the man's breath came hard and he looked gray. There was no time to attempt a healing; Obi-Wan had to get the second archer.

"Got another... knife... in my boot." Panaka's eyes glazed; he struggled for breath. Obi-Wan snatched for it the instant he made out the painful words; half-turning on his heel he searched, finding the second archer in the trees. Their eyes met across shaft and blade even as Obi-Wan's wrist snapped forward again and a second arrow left the bow, flitting straight for his eye. He jerked himself and Panaka to one side and it thudded harmlessly into the soft loam, torn and scuffed by their boots.

"Obi-Wan!" Qui-Gon sounded hard-pressed, and he laid Panaka down, hoping uselessly that the man wouldn't be trampled, and that he might survive until Obi-Wan had leisure to try a healing or could get him back to the palace physician. He'd proved his loyalty, probably at the cost of his life.

Obi-Wan's thoughts flew through him as he bounded to Qui- Gon's side; the Prince was bleeding from a cut across his forehead, but still fighting well, though blinking blood out of his eye.

"I thought you were shot." Qui-Gon's sword ran with fresh blood.

"Not me. Panaka."

Qui-Gon cursed, stabbing at another man-- it was growing clear that they would take the day, saving the arrival of any more archers; the last few men they faced were wary and battered.

"Surrender, and throw yourselves on the King's Mercy!" Obi-Wan tried, and achieved nothing but deepening the snarls on the battle-hardened faces. The men pressed harder, as though courting death; they must know they were bound for defeat.

"Save one for questioning," Obi-Wan snapped even as he deflected a heavy blade and snapped a kick into his opponent's midsection, sending him flying onto the bloodsoaked ground. He stabbed sideways at Qui-Gon's opponent instead, severing a hamstring, and Qui-Gon impaled the man through the belly as he fell, metal blade grating horribly on torn chain mail.

Almost that soon, it was over. Qui-Gon's men rallied, and the battleground was suddenly silent except for the screeching of a crow and the rustling of the breeze in the leaves, indifferent to petty political struggles.

PART 78

Time seemed to suspend, hanging them in the moment and Qui-Gon knew he would carry the image of the carnage with him for a long time. He'd participated in other battles, viewed many a battlefield, but never had he been betrayed by his own people as this one proved him to be.

Bodies were strewn about the forest floor, blood covered everyone's clothing and weapons; his bodyguard's light creams were stained crimson and his own hands bloody. There were only three men still standing.

He could hear his own breath coming in sharp gasps, and he blinked as a drop of bloody sweat dripped into his eye. He wiped it away absently.

The moment was gone, replaced by frantic movement as Obi-Wan rushed to Panaka's side, barking out orders to the remaining guard. Qui-Gon noted that it was Solo, Panaka's lieutenant, and the man who had fallen was Lando, his second-lieutenant. Had these two been the only ones Panaka trusted? Or was it merely that they were the best?

Qui-Gon moved to the bodies of their attackers, kicking them over so that he could see their faces. Though they wore no colors and their uniforms bore no insignia, he recognized them all as members of his own army.

At last he came to the last man Obi-Wan had felled. Baleful blue eyes glared up at him, daring him to do his worst. Hauling the man up by his chain mail, Qui-Gon shook him. "How dare you?" he demanded. "How dare you lift arms against me? Does your word and your loyalty mean so little? Does your life mean so little?"

"Qui-Gon!" He became aware of Obi-Wan, his bodyguard's hands holding his, trying to stop him from choking the life out of the villain he held.

"We need him alive."

Qui-Gon growled, it would have given him great pleasure to kill this man with his own hands, though not as much pleasure as it would give him to do the same to Palpatine.

"Tie him up -we can question him later. Panaka still lives and I could use your help keeping him alive."

Qui-Gon nodded. He tied the prisoner's hands and feet together, taking great relish in making the man cry out as he tightened the ropes. Letting him drop to the ground without further thought, Qui-Gon rushed to Obi-Wan's aid, and found him cradling Panaka in his arms. The captain had the ashy-gray lips of advanced blood loss, and his eyes were vague.

"...Prince." His lashes fluttered. "Alive." A smile curved his lips weakly. Qui-Gon looked at Obi-Wan's hands, struggling to stanch the bloody wound.

"Qui-Gon... I can't..." the words were a whimper; Obi-Wan looked chalky-white with strain.

Qui-Gon reached to touch Obi-Wan instinctively, hands falling on the young monk's shoulders; he felt the quiver of tension rack Obi-Wan. Panaka's breaths were slowing along with the flow of blood; it was only a matter of time.

"Yes, Captain. Your mission has succeeded." He bent over the dying man, still keeping a steadying hand on Obi-Wan.

"Give Solo command...." Panaka winced in pain, chest hitching. "Can trust him."

Qui-Gon nodded, eyes filling. "Your family will know that you have not died in vain. I will see to it that they have a handsome pension." Qui-Gon felt his heart swell and rise in his throat. "You will be remembered as a hero."

"Tell..." blood bubbled up at the corner of Panaka's lips. "wife..." his lips stilled, and Obi-Wan exhaled, a low, sobbing breath.

"I couldn't!" He stared at Qui-Gon, blood smearing his arms and face, stricken. "I tried, Qui-Gon... I tried..."

"You saved those of us who lived." Qui-Gon folded Obi-Wan into his arms, blood and all. Thank the life- force, it wasn't him. He looked over Obi-Wan's shoulder to Solo, who stood quietly, staring down at the body of his fallen captain. "Solo, your captain's dying order means that you're in charge now. I need you to cover the traces of battle, dispose of the fallen discreetly, and question our man. We'll need a story to explain Panaka's absence."

Obi-Wan pulled out of his arms and Qui-Gon resisted a moment before he realized how Obi-Wan might interpret that. "We can't leave all that to one man," chided Obi-Wan. "We'll interrogate the prisoner as a team and then we can all work to cover the evidence of this battle."

Obi-Wan was looking at him as if expecting to be countermanded, but Qui-Gon only inclined his head. His bodyguard had a point -it would take one man more time than they had to dig a grave big enough for all the men who were dead here today. It grieved him that Panaka and Lando would also be buried quietly and in secret, but he vowed to mark their grave and eventually return their bodies to the palace for a proper burial with full honors once the scourge was dealt with.

"If it pleases, my lord," Solo said, interrupting his train of thought. Qui-Gon nodded at his new Captain to continue. "The Captain explained our leaving the castle today by claming orders to scout out the border between our lands and Crion's. You could announce that I was sent back with the news that the captain and Lando were staying to keep an eye on things, leaving me in charge in the meantime."

"Good man, you've a head on your shoulders as well as fighting ability, I see," noted Qui-Gon. "Panaka has always promoted deserving men within his ranks."

"He was a good captain." Solo's voice held a trace of emotion and Qui-Gon suddenly noticed the pale face.

"Days like these leave little time for mourning," he said, not without a little compassion.

Solo nodded. "Yes, sir. I understand my duty. It is an honor to serve you as the Captain of your Guard."

"An honour you have earned." Looking over at Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon caught a slight smile and approval in his bodyguard's eyes and had to stamp down on a surge of pleasure. He had been commanding men before Obi-Wan had even been born--he hardly needed the lad's approval for doing so now.

"Well let's see what we can get out of this cur," he said brusquely, nodding at the man on the forest floor.

PART 79

Solo accompanied him, walking with an easy slouch that spoke of either carelessness or deadly grace-- and having watched him fight, Qui-Gon knew it was the latter, not the former at all.

The new captain toed their prisoner with one battered boot, turning him over. "Who are you working for?" he snapped, not bothering with preliminaries. The man simply sneered, unspeaking, his face a mask of dirt and sweat.

"Would you like to do this the easy way or the hard way?" Solo inquired, looking as though his face were carved from granite. He squatted to meet the man's eyes. "We can get answers here, or we can get them back at the castle. Here, it's a nice chat. At the castle, we put you on the rack. Which is it gonna be?"

The pale eyes flickered in the dirty face, scanning Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan for signs of mercy. Qui-Gon shook his head, impatient. A fool. Well, at least that was heartening, in a way-- perhaps only the less intelligent among the ranks were turning coat.

"Neither," the man snarled, squirming against his bonds. "You can't take me back to the castle. I heard you."

"Oh, now that's where you're wrong." Solo grinned, looking both mischievous and chilling. "If I wait till dark I can get you in so slick nobody'll ever know you're there, and have you down in a dungeon cesspit before you have time to break a sweat. Now talk."

Their prisoner swallowed, but his mouth stayed shut, his chin rising with defiance.

"We'll have to question him in the castle." Solo stood up briskly, slapping his palms on his soiled jerkin. "He's more afraid of someone else than he is of us. It'll take awhile to change that." Now that the prisoner couldn't see him, he let his face soften, revealing reluctance. "Your call, Your Highness."

Qui-Gon thought. "We should bind him and hide him-- perhaps in the upper branches of a tree, well-gagged, so he can't cry out for aid, and come back for him this evening, when the rest of our business is finished and we can smuggle him into the castle."

"Good thinking." Solo seemed not to notice the insolence of omitting the prince's title; Qui-Gon could already tell he was a man who didn't put much value on formal procedure.

"There's a ravine nearby, you know the one?" Solo quirked a brow and Qui-Gon nodded. "With a little work we can put the bodies at the bottom, then pry free some rocks near the top of the bluff and let the ground do most of the work for us. Nobody's got a shovel. I say we go with that."

"We'll bury Lando and Panaka separately," Qui-Gon decided, "but that's an excellent plan." He reached out to snag their prisoner's arm, hauling him upright and shaking him. "We'll deal with this garbage first."

"That's Tarkin," exclaimed Solo. "I didn't recognize him out of uniform and all roughed up. He and a couple dozen men are supposed to be off scouting over the border near the other end of Valorum's estate!"

Qui-Gon looked across the man to his bodyguard.

"Convenient," said Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon nodded.

"Indeed. How long ago did this scouting party leave?"

"I'm not sure exactly, but it was before you were attacked by Valorum's men."

"Damn it to Sith hell!" Qui-Gon let the man drop again. Obi-Wan was immediately at his side, a soothing hand on his arm. "He's been playing us all along!"

"It would appear so," agreed Obi-Wan.

"How can you be so damnably calm! He's played you as easily as me."

"And what good will getting angry do me? Or you?" asked Obi-Wan. Qui-Gon looked into his bodyguard's face, the intelligent, changeable eyes calm, but intent. "We need to be smart now-- to make the right decisions. Letting anger and hurt and fear get the better of us will not lead us to those decisions."

"It galls me that he has been under our very noses the whole time, pulling our strings. I am the Crown Prince - he should have some respect. And all that is holy only knows how he's influenced my father."

"Then stop playing into his hands," suggested Obi-Wan. "Stop reacting as he would have you react. Be cool, be calm, be smart and you shall win the day, my prince. He is no match for you, not when you block out all else and really try, really focus. If you do not let yourself be distracted, you are invincible."

"The monk's right, Highness," added Solo. "I've seen you oust more than one bodyguard and I've fought at your back and by your side in numerous skirmishes. You've always led us to victory."

Though he knew what they were doing, Qui-Gon still felt his courage bolster. Obi-Wan was right, clear heads would win this secret battle and then they would bring Palpatine's treason to light. He tucked away his anger and looked forward to that day. "Let's get this garbage trussed up then."

"Aye, aye, sir." Solo saluted smartly, a cheeky grin on his face.

Obi-Wan's response was more subdued, but his smile warmed Qui-Gon through.

PART 80

Obi-Wan watched as Captain Solo used one of their enemies' bows to shoot a rope over a high, study branch. Both the new captain and Qui-Gon appeared to be enjoying the adrenaline in the aftermath of the battle and were focused on the tasks at hand.

Obi-Wan contented himself to watch them, keep an eye on their surroundings, lest a second wave appear. He couldn't shake the sadness that welled in him at the loss of life. Panaka's death in particular bothered him. He couldn't help but believe that if he'd tried harder he could have saved the man.

He obviously had the ability to heal; was he so focused on the prince that he could help no one else? Or did healing Qui-Gon really have nothing to do with his own innate healing ability and everything to do with the way their destinies seemed to be intertwined?

He couldn't be sure, but Panaka's death seemed to indicate the latter. He could touch Qui-Gon's life force, but the captain's had simply slipped through his fingers when he tried to hold and feed it.

He sighed; he must absolve himself of the deaths that had happened here today. None were his fault; he'd advised bringing a larger force of men and acquiesced to the logical need of keeping their knowledge private. And men had survived, especially the prince. Obi-Wan had given his best effort, and had no shame to bear.

He sent a silent prayer of sorrow and gratitude into the life force for the men who had died. He hoped that the mission they had died for would be accomplished soon, so that their spirits could rest peacefully.

As he'd instructed Qui-Gon, now was time to care for the living. He sighed and took hold of the rope, helping haul their captive into the branches. He had misgivings about leaving the man here like this, but there was only so much three of them could do, and guarding him would cost them a great deal of time and effort.

At any rate, he was securely bound and gagged-- he would not be shouting to alert any potential companions who came out to investigate what had happened. The tree was tall and his rising body already disguised by the thick branches. Obi-Wan swarmed up the thick trunk, ruefully ignoring his already aching muscles, and secured the rope to its branch, making sure the branch was steady and the rope unfrayed. All looked to be well. The man coup> Regardless of the need for caution, it took all three of them to move Obi-Wan's dead mare and topple her over the side. He winced as the carcass went down in a tangle of stiff limbs to lie atop the corpses of the enemy fighters. He stepped forward before Solo or the prince could begin to send rocks and other debris down after the bodies. "Just a moment for a few words," he said quietly.

"They were traitors," growled Qui-Gon.

"They were still men," countered Obi-Wan, "and had they been tried in your court a priest would have prayed over them as they died."

"Very well, but be quick about it."

He recited the litany for the dead and closed his eyes, dropping for a moment into a light meditation and reached out to the forest, touching briefly the life force all around him. He hoped that something positive would come of the energy these men's death's had released, bringing good from bad.

He felt anger surge through him, that someone would manipulate and warp the world around him, just for his own greedy benefits, but he fought it down. He suspected that Palpatine had been playing with people's lives for a long time now and his own efforts would be better served in being a positive force.

"We should cover them now," Obi-Wan said, opening his eyes and finding a large rock. He hefted it and sent it crashing down the ravine, not waiting to watch it drop before turning to find another. The prince and Solo were soon following suit; rocks, branches, dirt, leaves, all were sent plummeting down to cover the bodies of the men sent to kill the prince.

Several buzzards that had begun to circle the ravine cawed angrily at them, but they continued their task undeterred. Solo pried away at a dead tree, its roots firmly locked into a ledge of precarious soil and rock, and before Obi-Wan could warn him, he dislodged it, sending an avalanche of stone and dirt down. Solo hopped nimbly away from the crumbling edge and Obi-Wan shook his head.

A risktaker. That had both advantages and disadvantages; daring could tip a battle in either direction. He could only hope that Panaka had correctly estimated Solo's good sense and that he'd use it to weigh acceptable versus unacceptable odds.

The slide from Solo's tree was big enough to trigger more, and it covered the bodies; when the dust settled the buzzards were left to caw in disappointment and eye the other bodies, those of Qui-Gon's men. Obi-Wan shuddered at the scrutiny of the flat black eyes and stayed protectively close to the bodies. He cast a glance at the sun, filtered through leaves and branches. They were nearing midafternoon already.

They had no shovel, so they had to make do with their hands, and in some cases, with Solo's battered boot-dagger to cut away roots and pry up stones as they worked to bury their brothers in arms. It would have been easier if they could have used their swords, but Obi-Wan deemed it best to keep them ready in case of fresh attack rather than blunting or breaking them on stones.

Finally the hole was dug, and they laid the men in it soberly, covering them with a thick layer of stones and then packing forest loam in atop them. Solo looked pale and sad underneath the dirt on his face, and Qui-Gon also seemed pensive. They worked in silence, sweating and itching with dirt down their collars, but finally the site looked all but normal, with fresh loam packed over the grave and the whole area strewn with last year's dead leaves.

Obi-Wan stood back, trading a glance with Qui-Gon, and this time there was no hesitation before Qui-Gon stepped forward to speak. "These men have given their lives in service to the Jinn Throne. They are heroes and the life-force will welcome them home. I pledge my life that theirs have not been given in vain. I will be a good king and I will thwart the evil that has arisen to stain the land."

"Let the blessings of the life force shine on the bodies of our comrades until we may return to give them proper burial. Let no animal touch their bodies." Obi-Wan reached into the life-force and caressed its shape, forming a protective aura around the grave-- not even worms would pass his barrier to touch the bodies that lay inside. It was a simple weaving, one that would be respected by all natural creatures but man. Hopefully, no man would stumble across the corpses either until Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan could send a guard of honor to fetch them for the proper ceremonial interment their heroism had earned.

"No disrespect intended to the dead or either of you, but the sun's moving fast across the sky." Solo's voice broke into the silence that had wound around them in the wake of the burial.

"He's right," said Qui-Gon, looking over at Obi-Wan. "If we had truly been swimming, we would be making our way home shortly."

"We need to go dip into the lake," suggested Obi-Wan. "Get clean and eat, or at least dispose of some of the picnic, in order to keep up appearances. Solo can bring Tarkin back under the cover of darkness." Obi-Wan looked around with a frown. "Sebulba seems to have...."

Any reply was forestalled by the sound of a crack, as if a tree had been hit by lightning. All three turned toward the tree where they had left Tarkin trussed up.

"Sith." Qui-Gon spoke first; Tarkin's broken body lay like a sack of laundry on the ground, a thick splintered branch poking through his back.

Obi-Wan rushed forward, touched the man's throat to verify that he was dead, and lifted the frayed rope. "He swung himself till he worked it through." He glanced ruefully up into the tree. "There was a dead branch below and to the left, he struck it on his way down. I can see the blood from here. He was swinging hard; he must have meant to break the rope." Sith was right; now they'd lost their only source of information.

"He must have known he wouldn't survive the fall. We hung him high." Solo looked up into the tree also. "I wonder if he was more afraid of us, or whoever sent him out here."

"We'll never know now." Qui-Gon looked grim. "We'll have to bury him too. Let's move fast before the castle notices our absence."

They tossed Tarkin into the ravine too and worked till he was covered. Finally it was done, and they looked at one another wearily, exhausted and bloodstained. "I think a wash will do us all good," Obi-Wan suggested. "I saw Sebulba's tracks; they led toward the lake."

The three of them set forth, following the trail of the frightened horse.

PART 81

To Obi-Wan's relief, they found Sebulba by the lake, trying awkwardly to drink around his heavy ornamented bridle. That was one less worry; Obi-Wan had feared he'd wandered home to the stables, which would have forced more explanations.

Qui-Gon stripped the headgear off the horse and tethered him while Obi-Wan and Solo stripped. The lake looked inviting; Obi-Wan wanted desperately to wash the blood and filth off himself.

For once he didn't feel self-conscious undressing in front of Qui-Gon. It was probably Solo's presence and the heaviness of the recent deaths on his heart, both ensuring that there would be no unwanted glances or touches, but he almost wished Solo were gone and the attack hadn't happened. That way he would have known if the prince's attempts to restrain himself were just as earnest as they seemed, or if they were as shallow as he sometimes feared.

Of course, he wished the attack hadn't happened at all, regardless. Panaka's loss was a cruel blow to their small reserve of trusted allies. They could not afford to lose a single ally, and yet today they had lost two. They would have to find more support, regardless of Qui-Gon's delicate conscience and his reluctance to raise a force against his father. Forewarned was forearmed. Ignoring the opportunity to act would be a devastating mistake.

Qui-Gon's last audience with his father... King Yoda had been so distant, Obi-Wan wasn't sure if the man even knew where he was, let alone who the people in the room with him were. It was possible that Palpatine had done something to him and was manipulating him. Surely the King had been more outgoing, if frailer, when Obi-Wan had first arrived? He hated to think that the animosity that now existed between the prince and his father was a natural phenomenon.

Realizing the other two had waded in already, Obi-Wan placed in clothing in a neat pile and waded into the chill waters. He went in until the water slid against his hips and then dove deeply, pulling himself down further with long strokes. Holding his breath as long as he could, he enjoyed the way the icy water cleaned his skin, purifying him of the stench of the battle.

He broke the surface with a gasp, the sun warming his skin with a gentle touch. There was so much to do; taking even this much leisure seemed shameful, but he had to scrub himself clean to be able to complete his duties, so he did, splashing handfuls of silky water over himself.

Qui-Gon and Solo did the same, washing efficiently. After a few moments, they had to resort to one another, having no mirror-- some of the dirt and blood yielded reluctantly, and soon Qui-Gon was scrubbing Obi-Wan's face and neck efficiently with a piece of cloth torn from his own ruined tunic.

Obi-Wan helped Solo and the prince in turn, and soon they waded out, dripping, and took turns with the soft cotton cloth Qui-Gon's maids had packed for the proposed swimming trip. Big enough to lie on, it dried them all without becoming wringing wet. Obi-Wan tried not to blush when he realized why it was so large-- it had been meant for a blanket they would lie on to make love.

Qui-Gon unpacked fresh clothes that had been packed for their supposed tryst in silence, and he and Obi-Wan dressed. Obi-Wan had to wear court clothes; he only had one more set of his own rough-spun tunics and his robe was ruined. He'd need to have Adi sew another. He usually made his robes and tunics himself, but for once, he wouldn't undertake the time-consuming labor. There were greater concerns that demanded his attention.

Solo took their ruined clothes with promises to dispose of them, and they separated for the ride back to the palace. Solo slunk away to the dell where he'd tethered his horse, Falcon, and Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon both climbed onto Sebulba's sturdy back.

"In front of me, Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon directed. Obi-Wan hoisted himself up, having a little difficulty given the chain mail once again hidden under his clothes, and they started out at a slow walk.

Qui-Gon's arm slid around Obi-Wan, both keeping him steady and speaking of protection-- and probably to the courtiers, of the affair everyone believed lay between them. Obi-Wan accepted it, tired enough that he was glad of its circle. He was still a little weak from the recent traumas of his injuries, and today's events had told heavily on him. Still, he'd borne up well and completed his duties. He would be completely healthy again in a week, he suspected, and even such a rapid recovery was not beforetimes.

"Palpatine will be certain that he can crush us before he moves again with brute force," Qui-Gon mused. "You will have to help me be sly, Obi-Wan."

"Yes." Obi-Wan nodded. "I believe we may expect our next attack to come from closer to home-- your father, most probably. There are a variety of things Palpatine could seize on. Panaka's absence and the story we use to explain it, my presence in your bed...."

Qui-Gon stiffened and his protective arm moved away, grasping the reins tightly. "You came up with that ruse on your own." Obi-Wan could feel anger gathering around him. "And you insisted on sharing my bed."

"You agreed more than readily," he reminded Qui-Gon frostily.

"Not all of us are emotionless monks," Qui-Gon growled. "A man has needs."

Obi-Wan felt his heart soften. The prince was quite right, a man did have needs and Qui-Gon had not been trained as he himself had to transmute the energy released by sexual need into something more useful.

"I'm not asking you to take a vow of chastity," Obi-Wan told the prince. Qui-Gon relaxed slightly behind him, but not entirely, still holding himself away from Obi-Wan and it suddenly occurred to him that the prince was perhaps feeling the effects of adrenaline left over from their battle. Near death experiences tended to leave a man with the need to prove how alive he was.

For Obi-Wan, especially after a battle, that energy usually went into helping others, healing minor wounds and cleansing himself. He had used that energy today in trying to keep Panaka alive; it hadn't been enough. But to a man like the prince, such energy would no doubt translate into sexual appetite.

He knew how unfair it was to expect the prince to remain celibate until the threat was over, had said so when Qui-Gon had made that offer. Perhaps it was time to take matters into his own hands and insist that the prince find release with someone they could trust; frustration would only lead to a foul temper and mistakes.

"I have spent my life learning control," Obi-Wan said softly.

"While I have spent mine indulging every urge." There was bitterness in Qui-Gon's voice.

"That's not what I was going to say."

"It's true enough though."

Obi-Wan sighed, wondering how he could release the prince from his self-imposed vow without insulting him. "A man must see to his needs or he risks being unable to serve others."

"You are chaste," answered Qui-Gon.

"But I see to my needs-- I have been taught a different way of doing so, but I deal with them nonetheless. I will not be insulted if you find pleasure in your bed. My attitude when I first arrived from the temple was wrong. I expected you and your world to match mine and judged you accordingly. I'm sorry for that."

Qui-Gon inhaled, a sound of surprise. "You have nothing to apologize for."

"Oh, I think that I do," Obi-Wan responded earnestly. "There is nothing wrong with your passions, Prince Qui-Gon. Without them, there would be no children to become monks. What would be wrong would be to let passion interfere with duty-- and if you deny your passions, that can be just as harmful as indulging them at the wrong time or without care. I think there is guilt of misunderstanding on both our parts," Obi-Wan finished softly. "You have worked to make amends with me, and to understand me. Let me do the same with you."

"We'll discuss it," Qui-Gon finally gave in. "But for now, this is the last ridge before the castle comes in sight. We will have to resume our ruse."

Obi-Wan nestled into his arms in silent answer.

PART 82

They drew little notice as they trotted into the courtyard, but Qui-Gon's skin crawled and he had the distinct feeling of being watched by hostile eyes. Judging by Obi-Wan's tension in his arms, he felt the same. It felt good to go inside the enclosure of the stables, where there was no threat of arrows from an unseen archer in the battlements.

Bruck, his scalp showing about a half inch of pale fuzz, came up sullenly to take Sebulba's reins. While he steadied the horse Qui-Gon slid down, then extended his arms for Obi-Wan.

Bruck cut his eyes sideways at them, scowling. Qui-Gon couldn't help but wonder if the boy had been in cahoots with Sira, or if he were an innocent. His open dislike of Obi-Wan made it less likely that he was a clever traitor; if so, Qui-Gon suspected his mouth would have been filled with honeyed words for the both of them.

Obi-Wan was eyeing the stable-hand too, and his hand had risen to fiddle unconsciously with his braid.

Qui-Gon felt a pang of remorse go through him at that. It had been a callous and deliberately cruel thing to do, mocking Obi-Wan and his commitment by braiding his whore's hair. He could understand now why Obi-Wan had been so incensed, why he had shaved poor Bruck bald.

Another person he himself had treated badly, taking the boy into his bed and fucking him until he'd had his fill. He must have been the talk of the palace-- one didn't have to be a monk to wonder at a man who spent his whole existence in the pursuit of pleasure. Qui-Gon imagined there were a lot of fences in the need of mending if he hoped for the support of the nobles of the land.

He would begin by ridding the palace of the louse that currently soiled its halls. Palpatine and any man, woman or child found pandering to his foul wishes.

"Send for my guard-- tell them to assemble in the courtyard for an announcement and then attend the horse," he ordered. Bruck offered a bow, glancing up at him with hungry eyes before turning to do his bidding. Qui-Gon sighed. He would have to see what he could do to reward the boy's loyalty; it couldn't be easy to return to the life of a stable hand, even if his time in Qui-Gon's bed had been short.

"I will make the excuse for Panaka and Lando's absence and make Solo acting captain where our enemy can hear it for himself first hand," he said quietly to Obi-Wan. "I fear Palpatine will guess that they were with us; I can only hope he doesn't realize we are on to him."

"After your remarks to him the other day, he can hardly help but suspect," Obi-Wan commented wryly.

Qui-Gon sighed. "It isn't my nature to work in secret."

"It certainly isn't." But Obi-Wan's eyes were warm as well as wry, and Qui-Gon suspected he appreciated his prince's honesty.

As the troops assembled, they strolled out into the plaza-- and into the tangible aura of threat that the open air represented. "After considerable thought upon the matter of Xanatos and Crion, and in accordance with my father's wish that I treat their threat more seriously, I have sent my trusted commander Panaka and his aide to reconnoiter in secrecy," Qui-Gon announced. "In their absence, the ranks will be commanded by Captain Solo. I trust in his expertise, both as a warrior and as a leader of men. You all know him well. Obey him as you would myself."

Qui-Gon listened to the murmur rising among the men; it didn't sound as pleased as he might have hoped, but there were many more clear faces than sullen ones-- Solo was a good choice then. He was peripherally aware of Obi-Wan scanning the troops also, and resolved to ask the monk about his conclusions.

"In service to my father, the King!" Qui-Gon lifted his sword high, and the men echoed the salute, the scrape of blades in scabbards ringing in the air.

Obi-Wan also lifted his blade, its narrow metal winking in the sunlight, and Qui-Gon glanced past him to see Bruck lurking in the stable door-- he had no sword, but his arm was lifted, his face set with pride. Perhaps he would do well as one of the King's Horsemen. At least that position would permit him to rise, if his abilities warranted it. There was no point in farming such a fine lad out to menial duties.

Qui-Gon sheathed his sword again, a signal that dismissed his men. He turned to Obi-Wan. "Let us go to our rooms and summon my chamberlain. We should see if his information networks have borne fruit about Amidala's position."

"We should detour past the kitchens first. We're overdue for our evening meal."

"Indeed. Though it wouldn't be unusual for new lovers to lose track of time. And if we are to convince the servants that that is what we are, we will need to act the part-- more than just a few kisses in bed I'm afraid." Obi-Wan nodded and, taking it as permission, Qui-Gon slid his arm loosely around his bodyguard's shoulders as they entered the kitchen.

Shmi was there, apron covered with flour and the odd spot. She, Sira, and several others were putting finishing touches to large trays of food. They all stopped and dropped curtsies as he entered. "Will your highness be joining them in the dining hall?" asked Shmi.

He shook his head. "Just a quick meal here and then we'll be out of your hair."

"As my lord wishes."

Sira gave them a knowing look and Qui-Gon found himself wanting to wipe the smirk from her face, but held himself back. She was too useful to them; there would be time enough to deal out an appropriate admonition when Palpatine had been caught.

Beside him, Qui-Gon could feel Obi-Wan stiffen and noted the blush that passed over his cheeks. It would serve them well. He tightened his hold and gave Obi-Wan an unguarded look, letting his feelings show through, knowing his bodyguard would take it as acting.

"I'm afraid Obi-Wan's mare wandered off while we were somewhat...distracted. By the time we noticed she was well and truly gone."

"Probably headed for home. They'll have a mystery on their hands at the temple when she reappears there in several weeks time," suggested Obi-Wan quietly, looking up at the prince through his lashes. Qui-Gon swallowed and turned his attention back to the servants-- Obi-Wan was far too good at that, heaven help him should the lad ever mean it.

Shmi gave him a sharp look, but let the comments pass unchallenged. He could read sadness behind her eyes and knew she had divined, if not the truth, at least a portion of it.

"Something smells good," he said, realizing he was hungry and only now remembering that their picnic lunch had been abandoned uneaten. "Love gives me an appetite," he added with a slightly forced laugh.

Obi-Wan was slightly stiff beside him and Qui-Gon knew that he was also remembering why they had not eaten. Lying did not come naturally to the lad in any case, this false play at joviality when in fact people had died must have been grating terribly on Obi-Wan's conscience.

"As a matter of fact, I think we'll have a tray in my rooms," he said, cutting short their need to continue this act. Obi-Wan gave him a grateful look and murmured 'thank you' under the cover of the titters and giggles of the serving girls. He pulled Obi-Wan a little closer and, without sparing the servants another glance, left the kitchen.

PART 83

Qui-Gon was still wiping his lips when his chamberlain arrived. Shmi was sharp; not only had she seemed to guess about the possible fate of Obi-Wan's horse, but she'd also had the wit not to send Sira with their tray.

"Have you news about Amidala and Valorum's estates?"

"I do, your highness." The chamberlain looked nervous. "In one way, things seem quite unexceptional. Valorum's lands are being tilled, the harvest looks to be excellent. His serfs and villeins have no complaint with the steward. Some of his armsmen left and accompanied him into exile, as is to be expected; the others..." the chamberlain shook his head. "They're a mercenary lot, and they like Palpatine. He pays them well. But there are more than there should be. Valorum's guards appear to have sustained no losses, though perhaps a third of his men accompanied him when he rode away. If anything, his force is larger now than it was."

Qui-Gon frowned, glancing at Obi-Wan, and saw sober concern in his bodyguard's eyes. A ready-made force, men dedicated to Palpatine by virtue of coin. That was bad news indeed, and he was partly responsible for the events that had led to it.

"Then order is being kept in Valorum's lands, and there is no legitimate reason for my father to intervene, though there is cause for concern and vigilance." Qui-Gon ventured slowly.

"No cause until you look at Amidala." The chamberlain pursed his lips as though he would like to spit. "Palpatine's at court, and he keeps her under his thumb. Before, she was occupied learning her father's business. Now she's just a decoration on the steward's arm. He admonishes her if she speaks. Her place, he says, is in the bedchamber producing issue, not overseeing harvests or pronouncing justice among the people. Nor offering opinions to her betters."

"Whose issue, precisely?" Qui-Gon felt his teeth grit; his jaw ached with the force of containing his fury without shouting at the man.

"Nobody's at present, but I think we can guess whose heirs Palpatine would like to see take Valorum's title."

"Indeed," he replied through his teeth. "Aside from her lands she's a fine lass and smart. I had half a mind to arrange a marriage between her and Anakin."

"You still could," Obi-Wan suggested.

Qui-Gon looked at his bodyguard in surprise. "Without even consulting the boy?"

"You could send him a letter, explain it is pending his approval, which he may offer at his leisure. But meanwhile you can move Amidala out from under Palpatine's thumb. Set her up here in her own chambers, with a chaperone and maids you trust."

Qui-Gon considered. It seemed a sound plan, if it were necessary-- Palpatine would take it as another slight or even proof that he was suspected.

"If I may sir." His chamberlain interrupted his thoughts and he nodded at the man. "Amidala has turned from an outgoing, bright presence to a shadow. She is rarely seen and only on the arm of the Duke. It is only a matter of time before he feels he has waited long enough and takes her for himself."

"It would be a kindness then, forcing this betrothal on her before Palpatine forces his own marriage on her."

"Yes, sir."

"I shall leave the arrangements in your hands then: a proposal of marriage on behalf of my son. We will do it as soon as it can be arranged-- and in public, so that her reply may be noted by all and Palpatine cannot deny it. Spread a rumour that I will be making an important announcement tomorrow at breakfast, that should assure both Palpatine and the girl's presence."

"As you wish." The chamberlain bowed and left.

"It forces us to show more of our hands than I would like," Obi-Wan mused, "But I do not like the idea of leaving the girl in his hands."

"Agreed." Qui-Gon sighed. "What did you think of the troops' reaction to Solo?"

"I believe most of them like him. Perhaps more than they like you," Obi-Wan responded candidly. "But their liking for him might as well be liking for you, since he seems loyal to you, and they will follow him. Most of them, at any rate. It's Valorum's force I am most troubled by."

"Yes, that is disturbing news." Qui-Gon deflated, irritation rising strongly in him. "I am a fool, Obi-Wan."

"All of us are fools at times, my prince." Obi-Wan shook his head. "If we spent our lives second-guessing every decision we made, we would never accomplish anything."

Qui-Gon rose, pacing, needing to lash out at something. He almost wished Tarkin had survived; at this moment his need for action would even have encompassed torture rather than stillness.

He was aware of Obi-Wan's eyes following him, but he could not stop, the frenzy of frustration finding its only outlet in his long strides.

"We have a discussion to finish," Obi-Wan observed mildly. "You need to soothe your body, my prince."

Qui-Gon bit back the instinctive desire to snap a negation at his bodyguard. "I can control myself!" Even that sounded impolite. The prospect of tomorrow's actions was too remote to calm him.

"You can," Obi-Wan agreed. "Just as you use a dam to control a river or a bridle to control a horse, you use tools to control your body as well. Physical gratification is the best tool you have."

He rounded on his bodyguard. "You don't think I can keep my word?"

"Indeed I do, but need. He would control himself, damn it.

"Please, my prince," Obi-Wan said softly, earnest eyes gazing into his own. "I do not wish to see you torture yourself so."

"You're asking me to do this?" Qui-Gon was fairly sure he could resist just about anything but this, Obi-Wan's sea-storm eyes even more effective than his simple words.

"Yes, my prince."

"Then I shall do it for you."

PART 84

Obi-Wan moved to the bed ahead of him, bending over it to remove the covers, carefully shaking each one out before testing the mattress, with eyes, the flat of his sword and, ultimately, his own body. It made Qui-Gon wince to watch him lying on the bed, searching for more needles or some other trap. If they really were lovers, Qui-Gon would assign a bodyguard to Obi-Wan, someone to test everything ahead of the lad, though he knew instinctively that Obi-Wan would insist on a final check himself.

But with things as they stood now, his need of a bodyguard was the only thing that Qui-Gon had to hold Obi-Wan with him. He would have to convince the lad of his continuing need once this current crisis was over.

In the meantime, Obi-Wan had remade the bed and was smiling shyly at him. "All yours, my prince."

"Thank you," replied Qui-Gon, allowing himself the luxury of sliding his hand along Obi-Wan's cheek. His bodyguard's skin was soft, only the faintest hint of a beard tickling against Qui-Gon's palm. He allowed himself the wish that they were going to bed together, that Obi-Wan's plan included helping him relieve himself of the tension that thrummed through his body.

But Obi-Wan had already moved to the chair that sat by the servant's entrance. "I'll keep watch from here," said Obi-Wan, his eyes dropping closed. "I shall leave you in peace unless someone happens along."

Qui-Gon felt self-conscious as he stripped off most of his clothes, leaving only his underlinens. Usually he would discard them, too, but even with his eyes shut, Obi-Wan was a tangible presence in the room. Impossible to imagine how he'd pursued his lusts with the lad present, flaunting them in his face, even, for so long.

He pushed back the coverlet slowly, then jerked away from the bed and moved to open his window to let in a cool breeze. A drink of water, next, and as he scooped the pewter cup through the basin he became aware of Obi-Wan watching him, bemused, beneath his lashes.

Qui-Gon dropped the cup with a splash and then found a towel to wipe his hands and chest, keeping his back to his bodyguard. Sith, but he was hard-- Obi-Wan's eyes on him were only making it worse. If Obi-Wan was still looking. He didn't know.

Muttering, Qui-Gon went and flopped out full-length on his mattress. He lay for a moment, then tried his left side. Then he yanked up the sheet and punched his pillow.

"Get on with it," Obi-Wan advised. "You'll feel better."

"How would you know?" Qui-Gon growled under his breath and turned his back to Obi-Wan, curling in on himself, and jammed his hand into his underlinens. His erection pushed angrily into his palm. "This is ridiculous."

"Just do it."

Qui-Gon squeezed his eyes shut and opened his mouth for an angry retort, but his words became stuck in his throat as the bed dipped. He stiffened in shock and nearly choked as a gentle hand ran down his back, fingers tracing the line of his spine to the top of his underlinens.

"It's all right," Obi-Wan said softly, soothingly. "Lie on your stomach," he ordered and Qui-Gon obeyed without thought, moaning as his shaft was pressed between the mattress and his own body.

Obi-Wan's fingers began to work on the knots of tension in his back. Soft, warm and callused, they pressed and kneaded until he wasn't sure if he would melt into a puddle or drill a hole through the mattress. Perhaps both.

"Better?" asked Obi-Wan and he nodded. Was it his imagination or had a soft kiss been placed on his shoulder before the bed shifted again with the loss of Obi-Wan's weight?

He chose to believe it hadn't been his imagination and he took the memory of the soft, almost phantom touch and spread it out over his shoulders and down along his spine. As he imagined Obi-Wan covering his back with kisses, his hips began to rock, pushing his aching need into the mattress.

He could remember the way Obi-Wan felt in his arms each morning as they woke, curled together. He could remember the softness of Obi-Wan's lips beneath his own as they put on a show for Sira. His hips rocked faster.

A part of him felt guilty for using the lad this way. For taking the innocent memories and touches and using them for pleasure. However, another part of him was quite enjoying it, he thought ruefully as he rocked again into the mattress. He shifted to his side, pulling his underlinens down far enough to free his shaft.

Try as he might he couldn't stop the moan that passed through his lips as his hand circled his length. He was hard as nails and hot as a summer day, pushing eagerly into his fist. He wondered what it would be like if it was Obi-Wan's hand that surrounded him and another moan split the air at that thought.

Suddenly it was unbearably erotic, to have Obi-Wan sitting across the room, fully dressed and ostensibly uninvolved, while he lay in bed, fantasizing about having the monk with him.

He moaned again, clasping himself almost too hard, and pushed savagely into his fist, imagining that it was the hot grip of Obi-Wan's body around him. He'd lain naked in bed with his beautiful bodyguard; imagination could supply the rest: warm velvety skin instead of crisp linen sheets. A fuzz of soft hair instead of the faintly musty scent of his feather pillow.

He bit his tongue, trying not to moan Obi-Wan's name aloud; his balls were tightening mercilessly and he had to shift his grip, stroking his fingers along the bottom of the shaft.

God, it felt so good-- if only he could believe that actually had been a kiss, and not just an inadvertent brush of Obi-Wan's braid, which it almost certainly had been. He squeezed his lashes shut and pumped himself, pleasure suddenly turned cruel-- a mockery of what he wanted, and a pale shadow of reality.

His hand could hardly be enough-- like a drop of water, when his throat hungered for a long cool draught. He needed a body in bed with him, someone to stroke him and kiss him, someone to distract him from the emptiness inside and the images of the dead men, Panaka dying in Obi-Wan's arms...

His erection, which had been so near to bursting forth with a gush of pleasure, abruptly faltered and withered in his hand. He fell still, wondering if Obi-Wan would think he had finished. Panaka lay in the ground now, not in his wife's arms. His wife would be expecting his return, wondering how soon. She didn't know her husband lay dead in the cold ground.

Qui-Gon lay quietly for a long time, trying to fake sleep. At last it seemed to work. He listened as quiet footsteps advanced behind him, and lay very still as his blankets were pulled over his body. His ardor was quenched, his energy spent though not sated, and he dropped into a dreamless sleep at last, his head aching faintly behind his brow in a way that he knew would worsen before dawn.

PART 85

Obi-Wan settled back in his chair with a frown, choosing not to join Qui-Gon on the bed. He was no fool, and he knew physical release was accompanied by seminal emission... and he knew both by sight and by scent that Qui-Gon had failed to achieve orgasm.

Perhaps masturbation was not enough for a man who had known so many lovers. Not satisfactory. Perhaps he had been too embarrassed by being alone to become caught up in the act. It worried him; Qui-Gon would probably still be cross and restless in the morning, and he would not have the relaxation Obi-Wan had hoped for.

Other measures would have to be taken, then.

Obi-Wan sat back, thinking hard. Qui-Gon would not take well to guided meditation, he suspected, and sword practice would only serve to arouse further adrenaline that would need to be quenched. He could hardly offer himself up, and he certainly didn't trust Sira... and he suspected Qui-Gon would find it difficult to sharpen his passion for the wench who had betrayed him. It would be unfair to ask Shmi to perform the duty even though she might be the most logical choice. He frowned again.

Only one other person came to mind. Bruck.

That the stable hand wished to grace Qui-Gon's bed had been clear earlier in the evening. While he'd had only sullen looks and pouts for Obi-Wan himself, each time he had looked at the prince there had been a hunger on his face.

Obi-Wan imagined that to a boy like Bruck, being the prince's whore was far more favourable than stable duty. There was more than that though. Bruck had come out to listen to Qui-Gon's announcement to the soldiers, he'd been eager to join the salute to the king and all of Obi-Wan's instincts told him the boy could be trusted to remain loyal to Qui-Gon.

The only snag would be getting Bruck into Qui-Gon's bed and not tipping their enemy once he was there. He could not leave the prince's side and ringing for a servant was bound to bring none other than Sira. Sira, who came and went as she pleased, who, even should she not be the one to fetch Bruck to them, would surely see him abed with the prince. Try as he might, the only solution he could think of was to lie in bed with them and let Sira believe the three of them were... involved.

He sighed and closed his eyes. The lies grew thicker with each day he spent at the castle. The lies grew thicker, the dead bodies piled higher-- how many now was his sword responsible for? He shook his head. Now was not the time, he had to remain sharp, protect the prince- that was his priority, even if protecting him meant bringing a whore to his bed.

Resolutely he went to the pull and tugged twice before carefully removing his clothing and flinging it at the foot of the bed, as if it had been abandoned in passion. He was under the covers at the prince's side by the time Sira arrived, her hair mussed, a robe only half closed atop her nightgown.

"Bring Bruck," he ordered. Her eyes widened and she looked from him to the sleeping prince and back again.

"If it was another bed partner you wanted..." she simpered, letting the robe fall from her shoulder, hands already moving to the ties of her gown.

He made a face and shook his head. "He said Bruck."

She pouted. "What do you say?"

He couldn't be sure but she seemed angry beneath the coy posturing and he reached out to caress her shoulder, hoping to assuage her; as Palpatine's puppet she was too valuable to them to alienate. "I must say what my prince wishes me to say," he tried to make his voice sound regretful. "Bring Bruck."

She flounced out in a huff and Obi-Wan sighed, snuggling up to Qui-Gon as his ruse demanded. Qui-Gon was deeply asleep and he adjusted automatically to Obi-Wan's presence, sighing a little. Obi-Wan stared at his sleeping face, his heart uneasy. Sith, he hated doing this. But Qui-Gon needed it, badly.

Still... he wished he could have thought of someone, anyone, other than Bruck. He wished again he could have summoned Shmi... but that would not seem fitting, with him already in the prince's bed... and after the battle at the monastery, she might very well refuse to come.

He reached and smoothed a lock of hair away from Qui-Gon's weary face. The stress of the situation was aging him; he looked less pampered than he once had. Lines were creeping in at the edges of his face, especially next to his eyes. They made him even more beautiful.

Obi-Wan flinched as Sira clattered in with Bruck in tow, startled out of his thoughts. Bruck stared at him, face uncertain; Sira just looked sullen, hesitating to leave. "You may go," Obi-Wan caught her eye, and she stamped out. Obi-Wan rose from the bed, careful not to stir Qui-Gon.

"I saw you in the courtyard, taking oath to serve the King." He eyed Bruck, who drew his back up stiffly, defensive. "You feel loyalty to the Jinn Throne?"

"Yes, sir." Bruck gave him a cautious once-over. There was resentment in his eyes, left over from the unpleasant day when Obi-Wan had caught him, pinned him, and shorn his hair. Someone had evened it up, since then, and it had grown almost to the length of Obi-Wan's own convenient cut.

"Do you feel loyalty to your Prince?" Obi-Wan pressed.

Bruck's face pinched with anger. "I do." He answered instantly, his voice curt. No hesitation for time to consider, no shift of lying eyes. Good.

"I am going to search you, then, and then you will go to the prince's bed and ease his body." Obi-Wan straightened his back, summoning all his dignity.

"But you..." Bruck glanced back after Sira, clearly confused.

"She told you I was his bedmate and lover?" Obi-Wan guessed.

"The whole castle thinks it. But yes, she did." Bruck shrugged. "I wondered how it came to be, when you thought you were far too good for his bed not a month past." His lip curled in a sneer.

"On the oath of fealty you swore today in the courtyard, I require you to swear that you will not reveal the truth of this to anyone. Not to Sira, not to your mother, not to the dumb animals in the stable." Obi-Wan fixed him with an unforgiving gaze, ignoring the insult. "Your prince's life lies at stake."

"On my oath of fealty?" Bruck's eyes sharpened.

"Yes. Your oath will be owed to the King and to the Prince, not to me. I merely accept it."

Bruck paused. "I swear on my fealty to the King and to the Prince. I will not reveal that you are not sleeping with Prince Jinn."

Obi-Wan relaxed, trying not to show how profoundly Bruck's acceptance relieved him. He would have hated to be forced to kill the lad to ensure his silence. A shudder rose up his spine at the thought, and he dismissed it, approached Bruck. "Strip."

Bruck look startled at the order and Obi-Wan gentled his tone. "No one goes near the prince's bed until they've been searched. Thoroughly."

"I wouldn't hurt him," Bruck told him sullenly, even as he pulled his tunic up over his head.

"No exceptions. I don't know who we can trust and so I trust no one."

Bruck paused in the midst of removing his leggings, half bent over he looked up at Obi-Wan. "You really care about him don't you?"

"It is my duty."

But Bruck was shaking his head. "It's more than that."

Obi-Wan ignored the assertion and made quick work of lifting Bruck's arms and checking between his legs.

"You really don't trust anyone, do you?"

"If a man doesn't learn caution after three close calls then he deserves what he gets," Obi-Wan said primly. "I will not allow the prince to die due to indifferent body-guarding. Get into bed with him."

Bruck did, sliding in beneath the sheets and wriggling until he had insinuated himself between the sheets. Obi-Wan returned to the other side of the bed. "You're sleeping with us?" asked the stable hand.

"Should anyone come in it must appear as if we're all sleeping together."

Bruck laughed at that "But the only one who'd come in would be -oh."

Obi-Wan looked at Bruck across Qui-Gon's body. "You see now why your oath was so important? Why it is imperative you share nothing that happens in here with anyone?"

Bruck was nodding slowly. There was a hint of smugness amidst a lot of humor in his eyes as he looked up at Obi-Wan. "So it would be a good thing if I were to brag about how I had the prince and his little monk both?"