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Test of Loyalty

by Ula Luva (uladrafts@yahoo.com)

He did it. Unbelievable! I'll bet even Mace never performed the Falling Stars kata perfectly. Mace was always a little showy on his aerials, but he'd look like a wounded ground slog next to my Obi-Wan.

Even Obi-Wan has been pushed to his limits. He's breathing hard, and of course he's sweaty and flushed... and ghods how I'd love to straighten out his tunics right now!

"Well done, Padawan," I tell him instead.

That makes him flush deeper. I really don't tell him things like that often enough, but when I do, he eats it up. Maybe it's better this way.

"Thank you, my master," he replies, ducking his head.

I love it when he does that... calls me 'my master' instead of just 'Master'. That's how I think of him, too, as 'my Obi-Wan'. Thank the Force that's never slipped out. I wonder how he would react if it did...

"That's enough for today," I say, waving in the direction of the showers. Today, and for all time. He certainly doesn't need me to teach him how to perform his katas.

He gives me that small bow of his and heads towards the door leading to the communal fresher. I call out after him, "Obi-Wan..."

He pivots instantly on his heel... his quick reflexes have saved his life, and mine, more times than I care to count. He cocks that eyebrow at me, waiting to hear what I have to say.

I could tell him, "You are breathtaking when you fly," or "I want to touch you right now," or, more simply, "I love you." All these things are true.

"Straighten your tunics," is what I choose, touching the spot on my own chest that is exposed on his.

Rather silly, of course. He'll be naked as a flossworm as soon as he gets to the showers. But I'm the master, so he tugs at the bottom hems to close the gap before continuing on his way.

My eyes follow him as he leaves. It is always a pleasure to watch Obi-Wan walk away -- not one I can often allow myself. Not one I may have much longer. The door slides shut behind him with a pneumatic sigh.

He's ready. He still has much to learn about the Living Force, but that will come in its own time. He certainly won't get any help from me with his connection to the Unifying Force, any more than with his aerials. There really is very little more he could learn from me.

It's time my Obi-Wan faced his Trials.

Now seems like a good time to tell him.

"Padawan," I say as he sets my evening chai by my elbow on the end table.

"Yes, Master?" he asks mildly. I suppose he expects me to request a spoonful of hwi-nectar or a dash of ground turri for my chai.

"Sit here. Please." I tell him, patting the empty cushion beside me on the couch.

He pauses an instant before he alights gracefully, like some urban avian willing to perch within arm's reach but poised to take flight again.

I'm not often at a loss for words, but I am at this moment. As I remain silent, his eyebrow arches and then his head tips the other way as if to counterbalance it.

Perhaps he thinks we've been assigned a particularly difficult mission. Or maybe that I'm disappointed in some aspect of his training. Nothing could be further from the truth!

Ah... a tickling, feather-light, in the bond. He knows I can feel him, and also that I will only reveal as much as I see fit. Still unsure of what to say, I drop my outermost shields for him.

"What do you sense, Padawan?" I ask, more than half-curious myself to hear my own feelings in this matter.

His mind touch flits about. "I sense profound joy, Master," he responds in a perplexed tone. "And... satisfaction? But also great sadness."

He's right. This is a time of sadness for any master, but especially for me. Even if I didn't crave him in every fiber of my being, it would tear my heart out to see him leave. Yes, we got off to a rocky start, and it did take a few years before we truly trusted each other, but in the end it was Obi-Wan who took the pieces of my shattered soul and put them back together. And in the process, he uncovered parts I never knew existed.

He is staring at me intently now, his brows drawn together, forming the furrow that always appears when he is concentrating or troubled.

"Master, what is it? Why are you sad?" He lifts his right hand as if to stroke my hair, but then seems to realize what he is doing and lets it fall back to his lap.

I am deeply touched. I wish I could grab his face and kiss that mark off his brow. Dear Sith Lords! I can imagine his expression then!

Instead of answering, I challenge him. "What does the Force tell you?" That's a good trick to avoid figuring out what to say.

The tendrils of his mind slip away, and the furrow in his brow deepens, as he turns his attention to the Force at large.

The Force speaks to us differently. Were I in his boots, it would resonate with the season of harvest and a sense of completion. To a senior padawan, that could only mean one thing. But he sees images without explanation and it is up to him to decide their meaning.

His eyes take on the faraway look that means he has latched onto something. Usually, it only lasts an instant. Sometimes even I miss it. But this vision goes on and on, and as measurable time passes I become concerned.

I force myself to wait by drinking in his absolutely still features. Framed by the rectangular cut of his russet hair, it looks for all the galaxy like some artist has captured a slightly eccentric notion of beauty personified. Wherever did the inspiration come from to include a cleft chin and impishly angled eyebrows in the ideal face? And surely it was genius to choose so pale a skin tone and so ruddy a tint for the eyebrows and lashes to draw your attention straight to his eyes.

Those eyes are where the artist has lavished his skill and the colors of his palette. Their foundation of green is dappled with every hue except the creams and carmines found elsewhere on his face.

I've never been able to stare at the individual flecks of cyan, gold, and violet before. I swear they usually change from moment to moment. Their stillness now is utterly disturbing.

How long has it been? Surely a few minutes. It's never lasted more than a few seconds. What could be holding him? I cast about, trying to see what he sees in the Unifying Force, but, predictably, the formless shapes skitter away from me.

I reach out again, this time for the familiar caress of the Living Force. Tendrils of negative emotions -- guilt and fear and pain -- immediately throw me back off center. With horror, I realize they emanated from Obi-Wan.

I have to do something! I grab his shoulders and shake. No response. Harder, now. Still nothing! Should I slap him? Or maybe try to enter his mind by force?

Before I can decide which, he suddenly gasps or sobs -- I'm not sure which -- and he is back with me. I'm so relieved that, unthinking, I clutch him to my chest and cry out "Obi-Wan! My Obi-Wan!"

His hands clench spasmodically in my tunics. He is muffled against my chest, but I can make out his voice pleading, "No, Master, please! I'm not ready!"

He must have seen something of his Trials, and I feel a stab of pity for his prescience. I don't know any knight who thought he would pass while taking them. Seeing them ahead of time would only make matters worse.

I'm still holding him tightly. Oh, it feels so good! If only he weren't distraught... but then I wouldn't be holding him at all. I rub small circles on his back as try to I reassure him, "You are ready, Padawan. I know you don't feel like it, but you are. I promise you."

He lifts his face to me. His eyes are vibrant again, but reddened and moist. "That can't be right, Master. That's not what I saw."

If my apprentice does have one fault, it's that he puts too much store in his visions... that and his impulsiveness. It's not really a fault that his connection to the Living Force could use more work. And while some on the Council would consider his unyielding idealism a drawback, I no longer do.

It's just that he's young. Well, no, rather, that's who he is; he would be like that if he lived to be Yoda's age. And I wouldn't change him now, even if I could.

"Padawan, I have complete confidence in your abilities as a Jedi, but you must not be mindful of the future at the expense of the moment," I tell him in my most masterly tone. "Whatever you saw didn't tell the whole story. You think you won't pass them. No one ever thinks they will. But I know you are ready. I can feel it in the Force."

Obi-Wan takes a deep breath to help center himself. I slide my arms off him and pull back slightly. Through the bond, I can tell that he is calm now, but I suspect that his mulish streak, rather than the Force, is the source of his strength.

"Master, I think it would be irresponsible of me to ignore a vision of the future," he tries to lecture me in his clipped voice, "I saw..."

I hold up my hand peremptorily and, thank the Force, he cuts himself off. Not only is it disrespectful for him to argue with me, but it is strictly forbidden for him to describe his Trials to anyone. Even to me, his master. Trust Obi-Wan to find a way to break that rule before he actually takes them.

After a pause, he continues more pensively, "Master, you didn't tell me why you feel sad." He has not given up yet, but he's trying a different approach. Tenacity. That's another quality of Obi-Wan's.

"It's not that I think you will fail, Obi-Wan. It's because when you pass them, I will miss having you with me." This is as close as I can come to the admission I'd like to make.

His eyes widen a little, then drop. "I feel that way too, Master. I would like to be with you, even when you are no longer my master."

He is shielding as tightly as I am now, and I can only hope he means his words the way I mean mine. But we can't -- we simply can't -- step from master and apprentice straight into a lovers' relationship.

We both need time to adjust to each other as peers. Not because I think he would defer to me reverentially for all time if we didn't. Just the opposite, in fact. Even now, he's more rebellious than reverential and he needs time on his own to stop chafing under the bit.

And I need time to step back and stop expecting him to follow my lead without question. 'Expecting' is not quite the right word. What I actually have learned to expect is that he will question everything. At times, Obi-Wan is as irritating as he is irresistible.

But in my heart of hearts, I know I wouldn't want a padawan, or a lover for that matter, who always responded to me with a simple "Yes, Master." Just once in a while would suffice.

"Obi-Wan, if you still feel that way after some months of solo missions and other pairings, we can certainly request missions together."

"But the Council won't let someone who fails his Trials go on any missions, Master," he rebuts, logically enough.

Force take him! Who ever had such a frustrating, obstinate padawan? He simply refuses to believe me. I love him, oh, I do love him, but a memory flashes through my mind of my master poking my ribs with his gimmer stick while he chortles, 'A Sith, payback is!'

I decide to play Obi-Wan's own game. "That is true, of course, Padawan. But there are opportunities here at the Temple for many who will never become knights. If worse comes to worst, we could see each other when I am between missions -- even more often than if you are busy establishing your own knighthood." I am smiling indulgently because I know full well he won't need to explore the other careers available at the Temple.

He smiles too, albeit sadly, but he still isn't satisfied. "And what if I couldn't bear to stay on at the Temple?"

This forcefully reminds me of Q'Far, Mace's failed padawan. He was a spectacular student and placed in all the sparring contests, but he didn't have much field experience. It's too bad Mace had already gotten sucked into Temple politics -- he was on too many committees to take on lengthy away missions. I think the Council would have arranged a re-Trial, but Q'Far left suddenly and we never heard from him again. Such a waste.

Well, certainly Obi-Wan has enough field experience! If he weren't such a bright student himself, he might have had trouble keeping up with his studies. His saber skills are superior to Q'Far's and everyone knows his shielding is remarkable. I can't imagine what he would think he was lacking.

I sigh abruptly. I've had enough. More than enough. Things didn't go at all the way I had hoped. It's time to call this discussion or argument -- or whatever it is -- to an end.

"It won't come to that. You are ready. The Force tells me this and the Council agrees with me. They have already set your Trials. By this time next month, you will be a knight."

"A knight, he is not!"

Force! This is not a time for joking, Master. Don't do this to me... or Obi-Wan.

My master's ears are drooped forward, his large expressive blue eyes are half-shuttered, and he is leaning heavily onto his gimmer stick, as if he really were conveying this dire news.

In the silence that follows that pronouncement, every Council member manages to keep a straight face. More than straight -- grim.

Obi-Wan's head is bowed and I wish I could touch his mind. Our training bond was cut before he left for his Trials and now he is shielding so heavily that I can't even pick up his reflections. But I can still read his posture and it reveals a burden of guilt.

Obi-Wan's attitude, more than that of any Council member, freezes my blood. Could this be real?

I suffer a quick flashback to the moment before his departure. I had shaken his hand on the landing platform, wishing him luck. His last words to me were, "I have a bad feeling about this." I laughed then and smacked his back as he walked away.

I wish desperately that I could laugh now. This can't be right -- it must be a joke! Ghods, please let this be a joke! A seed of panic in my gut threatens to burst out and choke me.

"A knight he would be, but for the Test of Loyalty," Yoda continues as if this were self-explanatory. He follows up with one of his long drawn-out noises of disapproval, shaking his head sadly.

This note of genuine mourning slays my last vestige of hope. In its place, an overwhelming mix of emotions -- confusion, grief... even anger -- flares to life. I feel like I am coming undone on the inside -- nothing is holding the parts of my body together. It is only by leaning heavily on the Force that I am able to maintain a semblance of calm.

I know I am staring like a bantha caught in a speeder lamp. Since when has there been a Test of Loyalty? I certainly hadn't faced one!

Mace steeples his fingers and explains the inexplicable. "In light of your padawan's history, and frankly, his mentor's predilections as well, we felt it appropriate for his Trials to include a test of his loyalty to the Order and the Council."

The Order and the Council? I serve the Order, simply by following the will of the Force. But the Council is a literal-minded bunch of stuffed tunics hobbled by politics... Sith! I hope that didn't make it through my shields... I have to do what I can to help Obi-Wan. It's my only hope.

But I am furious! I thought little enough of their decisions before, but this is intolerable! They must have given Obi-Wan some order that was impossible to follow in good conscience. Of course my padawan followed the will of the Force. Just like I would. Just like he did all by himself on Melida/Daan before I realized we might get different messages from the same Force.

"Your lightsaber, please," Mace requests in an officious tone, extending his hand towards my Obi-Wan. I want to stick my own lightsaber, lit, up some other part of his anatomy.

I am about to object, when Obi-Wan speaks up for the first time. He detaches the saber from his belt and looks at it as though seeing it for the first time -- or rather the last time.

"Master Windu," he says, bowing in that infernal man's direction, "may I leave it with my master?"

Mace doesn't correct Obi-Wan for using the term 'my master'. I swear if he had... instead he nods in my direction. "That would be acceptable."

Obi-Wan steps over to me quickly and says quietly, "Keep this for me, Master, please."

Numb, I hold out my right hand, and he places the grip in it. My fingers close automatically. Of course, it doesn't feel quite right, but it is imbued with Obi-Wan's aura. I want to clutch it to my breast and fling it away at the same time -- to hold on to a piece of him but to defy that this is happening.

A shadow of a smile passes over Obi-Wan's lips and he bows his head, saying, "Thank you, my master."

I am on the verge of shouting threats at the entire Council. 'You can't do this! It's not fair! You'll regret this! I'll see him knighted if it's the last thing I do!' Rebellious, defiant, and... childish.

I can't do it. I can't undermine Obi-Wan's calm acceptance, his quiet dignity. I feel absurdly proud of him at this moment. He is a true Jedi, worthy of knighthood. I still feel it in the Force and in the depths of my soul. He deserves to be knighted; surely he knows that! But he chooses to remain respectfully silent.

I will honor his decision. I attach his saber to my belt, next to my own.

"Dismissed, you both are," Yoda proclaims with finality.

Obi-Wan bows deeply to the Council but I can't force myself to emulate him. I settle for following him out of the Council chamber.

He waits for me outside the door and gestures for me to go on, averting his eyes. I pause a moment, but then I keep walking, heading towards our quarters. Whatever we have to say to each other would best be said in private. He falls into step behind me as if he were still my padawan.

Oh, Obi-Wan! If you want things to remain this way, I will make it possible. You can stay in your padawan chamber; the Council can't make me take another. And if they won't pay for your transport to missions, then I will. I have enough put by, though you will have to sit out the remote ones to the rim.

But you will have to start walking beside me, like the knight you truly are. Someday the Council will see the error of their ways and make it official.

I will prove to you that I esteem you as my peer and love you as my equal. It would be my honor, not yours, if you would come to share my master's chamber with me. I'll try to make it up to you. We can make this work. We both need time to grieve this loss, but then...

But then, I am a dreamer.

The future I have been envisioning would be torment for my Obi-Wan. In some ways, I know him better than I know myself.

He could not live out his life as a make-believe Jedi knight, an imposter, with no official role, no missions of his own, no way to prove himself or fully use his talents. He just couldn't do it, even if the Council gave its tacit permission.

And I know that kind of life would poison any relationship between us.

He's spent his whole apprenticeship trying to prove himself to me, and I know that's my fault. And how could he not blame me for this, too? I called for his Trials when he insisted he wan't ready. And it was my example that led him to make the wrong decision...

No! I know Obi-Wan would make the right decision, the one willed by the Force, if not the Council. And there it is again -- I can't help but feel proud knowing that.

But what will he do? His behavior in the Council chamber left his options open, even though I almost burned his bridges for him. Obi-Wan showed me up as a diplomat.

But even with his restraint, would the Council allow him to teach young ones? No... they wouldn't let him near them. And Obi-Wan isn't certified to train senior padawans or knights. Teaching is out.

What else is there for a padawan who fails his Trials? I wish I'd paid more attention in the past, but I never thought it could matter.

There are the research aides, in the archives. But I can't imagine Obi-Wan cloistered day after day, finding data chips for busy masters or looking up obscure references. It's only his sense of duty that glues him to his reader long enough to research our missions.

Then there are the liaisons for the Senate. But, Force! Even if the Council were willing to trust Obi-Wan, why would he ever want one of those positions? I'm sure he'd rather freeze on Hoth than spend all his days smoothing ruffled political feathers.

Obi-Wan needs to be active in the field. He needs to fight wrongs. He needs to come into his own. He needs to be a knight.

We've reached our quarters now, but I haven't yet figured out what to say to him.

I wish I had an answer for him, but I don't. I want to make it all better, but I can't. As the door shuts behind us, I turn to him, open my arms, and say simply, "Obi-Wan... "

He looks at me and for a second I think he will dive into my arms, but he lowers his gaze instead. Looking me straight in the chest, he says, "I'm leaving tonight for the Esperon sector."

Leaving! I feel like I've been gutted. I drop my hands back to my sides.

"Tonight? So soon?"

"I have to, Master. I can't stay... " he trails off.

He's leaving! I had steeled myself for him to go away on missions, perhaps for months. I was just absorbing the blow that he wouldn't be knighted. But now... I might never see him again! How can he do this?

My mind scrambles furiously at the blankness where the training bond once pulsed. I reach out in the Force and find he is still heavily shielded, just like he was in the Council chamber, as if his intention all along was to shut me out.

His face is unreadable -- but he is clenching and unclenching his hands...

I've only seen him do that twice. The first time was when he was just fifteen, as we watched the wreckage of a passenger ship float past our viewscreen. We were just too far from the liner when we received the distress signal. The flotsam included many humanoid corpses, some quite young.

The other time, we had been conducting tense peace negotiations on Ular V when the unmistakable sound of a plasma bomb exploding cut me off in mid-sentence. We raced to its source and found the city's healing complex reduced to a large pool of slag, all the organic components, including patients and personnel, vaporized into the atmosphere, along with any prospects for peace.

Obi-Wan's hands are betraying him. I know he wants to salvage this situation so badly it is nearly eating him alive, but he is helpless.

I realize that he must have had the same train of thoughts as me, and gone one step further. He has, after all, had more time to think about it.

With his Jedi training, he can write his own ticket anywhere but here. And with complete freedom, unfettered by the Council, he could do more good for the galaxy than an officially sanctioned Jedi knight. But he'll have to do it without me.

Even if he loves me, he knows, as I do, that he just can't stay here. His soul would wither and any love we tried to share would be blighted.

Part of me wants to grab him, drag him to my bed, and make the rest of his life consist of kisses and caresses and our mutual ecstasy. An even larger part of me is screaming to tell him I love him, to let him know he is my reason for living rather than just existing.

But what good would that do? It would only make the inevitable more painful for him. Suppressing these urges is torture for me and delaying his departure would only string that out.

Can I at least let myself hope that we will meet again? Or even that maybe, somehow, after he has had enough of slaying the draigons of the galaxy, we could possibly be together?

I think of his words to me as he handed me his lightsaber; he asked me to keep it for him, as if eventually he would reclaim it. But what about...

"Your braid, Obi-Wan? May I keep this along with your lightsaber?" I ask, reaching out to caress its length.

He starts at the touch; his eyes seem almost panicked as they look into mine. But then his face softens, perhaps in response to the agony I'm sure I'm not completely concealing.

He covers my hand with his, and gently pulls mine away from the beaded plait.

"I am going to keep it for now, but I will give it to you someday, my master."

I can't help but smile sadly at his use of that term.

He must have decided that he is still a padawan, and when he feels he has proven his worth, he will knight himself. And then, perhaps, he will return.

Our hands are still joined. I lay his on the extra saber hanging from my belt.

"And someday, my padawan," I promise him, "I will return this to you."

It is his turn to smile, not quite so sadly, and he answers, "I do hope so."

Six months. It's been six months since Obi-Wan left the Temple and I haven't heard from him once.

Of course, I wouldn't expect him to contact me here on Targon III, but I've been to Coruscant on and off. After seeing me fail with another padawan, the Council assigned me a series of short creampuff missions, hardly fit for an initiate. Most were essentially ribbon cuttings -- a coronation here, a welcome-to-the-Republic there. This is the first one that isn't a whirlwind of receptions, ceremonies, and banquets. Despite my vaunted Jedi willpower, I think I've gained a stone.

I stretch out on the cot that has been set up in this utility room for me. My feet hang a good half-span over the edge.

My mind rushes back to the last few moments Obi-Wan and I spent together, on a landing ramp, but under very different circumstances from the day he departed for his Trials.

We had said goodbye quietly with few words, but then I couldn't resist pulling him to my chest and squeezing hard, letting the pressure speak for my depth of feeling. Obi-Wan was giving as good as he got and I'm not sure wild banthas could have pulled us apart.

We parted slowly, lingering, reluctant to let go. Obi-Wan reached up and lightly brushed a tear off my cheek that had managed to leak out. Without another word, he left.

He took several steps up the ramp before he spun on his heel and strode back down. He stopped right in front of me and took a deep breath. I thought he was going to say something, but he flung his arms around me and kissed me -- on the mouth! -- a real kiss, not some platonic peck.

He worked his warm lips fervidly, crushing them against mine. Each kiss flowed into the next as I was overwhelmed with sensation. He stopped to draw in my whole bottom lip, chewing gently. I let him feast, cradling his head in my palms, before I freed myself to plant a line of kisses along his strong jaw, ending with a lick at the cleft in his chin. He captured my tongue and we started kissing again, trading tongues deeper and deeper, until I was afraid I would come or throw him down on the ramp and ravish him.

He broke the embrace and ran back up the ramp like a frightened gundark. Perhaps he thought I would try to follow him, but I could not have moved at that moment if a Sith had materialized in front of me. At the portal, he turned once more, bowed to me, then disappeared inside.

I stood there, quite still, until long after the ship left. My mind made up for any lack of bodily activity. The blanket of despair that threatened to smother me with the thought that Obi-Wan had gone was shredded by the memory of that kiss. I wrapped myself in the protective mantra of "He loves me... he loves me... he loves me..."

And now, I sigh and palm my aching hard-on through my leggings. I've relived that kiss dozens, if not hundreds, of times, but I'm careful to do it only in private.

I pull the leggings down over my straining member and try to picture Obi-Wan as he would look now, had things gone differently. In my mind the padawan braid has been cut as it should have been. The rest of his hair falls in soft auburn waves, matching the trim little beard he has chosen to grow.

It looks good with the dark robe that I push off his shoulders He mirrors my action eagerly. As the yards of material billow to our feet, I detach his lightsaber from his belt and place it carefully on the nightstand, then nestle mine intimately next to his. I lay my hand over both of the satiny smooth casings, absorbing the heady combination of our residual auras. But only for a moment. My body won't let me forget that Obi-Wan himself is within reach.

We drop each other's utility belts to the floor, the thuds muffled by our discarded cloaks. Our hands are so familiar with the regulation tunics, sashes, and ties that we make short work of the fabric that is preventing our bodies from touching.

His chest is covered with short strawberry down, so pale as to be almost invisible. It feels like velvet as I crush him to my own chest and grind against him. Obi-Wan works his hands between us to finger my nipples, sending jolts straight down to my groin. We are still wearing leggings, but the feel of his thick shaft rubbing mine through those layers steals my breath.

I roll my cock back and forth against my stomach with one hand and massage my balls with the other. Oh, Ghods... if only they were Obi-Wan's hands!

I briefly consider the act of unbuckling the numerous clasps on our boots and quickly revise my fantasy to involve already-bare feet.

We kiss avidly, like on the landing platform, as we each work the other's leggings and smallclothes off.

And then we are both gloriously naked, free of all the trappings of the Jedi Order, aroused, in love, and contacting as much of each other's skin as humanly possible.

The feel of his member through our leggings is nothing compared to the hot silky firmness of his bare cock. At the touch of his moist head, I start leaking copiously and soon my belly is slippery with pre-cum.

I grab our shafts together and start stroking them, but not yet in any rhythm. When I reach the tips, I roll the foreskins back, causing both of us to moan and jerk helplessly in response, almost breaking our endless kiss.

Obi-Wan begins thrusting, establishing the pace for my hand and my own hips. Both of us are so turgid and thick that it's a good thing my fingers are long enough to hold us together.

I slick my other hand with our pre-cum, then grab his ass and slide my index finger into his cleft. My finger finds his opening and presses against it, lightly at first, in time with the stroking.

He starts making soft, whimpering noises, and I know he is on the edge. I take over the kiss and plunge my tongue deep inside his mouth, at the same time penetrating him with my finger.

He makes a strangled noise that might have been a scream, were it not for my tongue, and his shaft pulses in my hand. I can feel wet splashes against my chest as my lover's eyes roll back in his head. But I can't enjoy the sight of his ecstasy for long as my own orgasm rips through me and my vision goes gray. Luckily, the bed is right next to us...

My hand automatically continues to nudge my cock, hoping to draw out some lingering sensation.

I'm tempted to keep my eyes shut so I don't see that I'm alone in this dingy utility room, on a cot that can't really hold one person, let alone two.

I want to imagine the caresses, the cuddling, the whispered endearments we would share, but my ejaculate is cooling quickly on my chest and there is no warm body snuggling against mine.

Why do I do this? It's not worth it. I live for a short time in the fantasy that all is as I wish it were, indulge in a single moment of bliss, but then the emptiness of reality comes crashing back.

Obi-Wan wasn't knighted. He has left and I am alone.

And I was deluding myself to think that his kiss meant anything, other than some kind of goodbye present. If he loved me, surely he wouldn't let six months go by without sending word.

I stand slowly, allowing myself a wry smile as I remember my foolish behavior. In the first days after Obi-Wan's departure, I checked my comm messages obsessively. Any time I was compelled to leave my quarters, I rushed back, hoping to find some word from him.

As the days stretched to weeks, I still leapt upon the console first thing every morning, hope spurring my heart to beat rapidly -- only to be crushed, as I was the other three times I allowed myself to check each day.

I rummage in my pack and extract an extra under-tunic. This will have to serve as my in-room fresher for my stay on Targon III. I wipe the cum off my chest as thoroughly as I can. Oh, well... I've heard it's good for the skin.

The weeks dragged on, and then came the mission to Deejar -- a celebration lasting an entire lunar cycle of theirs, closer to two months for us, away from the Temple. I went nearly insane, thinking that Obi-Wan's message was sitting at home waiting for me. Wondering what Obi-Wan might start to think if he didn't hear back. That was when I called in some favors, and managed to get all my comm messages relayed to me.

They were all impersonal and mundane in the extreme. The daily menu of what was being served in the refectory... schedules of new seminars being taught... warnings posted about new trouble spots in the galaxy... a call for volunteers to help transplant some bushes in the Shadow Gardens... an announcement of new regulations regarding initiate searches.

As I scrolled through the list again, double checking, I felt I had been slapped in the face. These were the messages that had been piped across the galaxy for me to see? It was cold comfort indeed to learn that I hadn't had to participate in the emergency drill held in my absence.

It was then that the extent of my folly first struck me. Obi-Wan was always such an attentive padawan. He couldn't help but make one last gesture, one last act of kindness for me.

But that's all it was. Surely, he didn't -- he doesn't -- love me or he would have contacted me by now.

Luckily, there is still plenty of clean under-tunic left. I need to wipe my eyes.

There must be a wake-up call for the ranch hands. It is rather unpleasant for me, being jostled awake by so many minds simultaneously trying to fend off consciousness.

But it reminds me of how often I served as a morning alarm for my Obi-Wan. He simply did not want to wake on his own, and secretly I praised the Force for that. I had a perfectly valid excuse to stand over his bed and admire his sleep-smoothed features -- no furrow, but also no dimples, no arched brow, and no impish gleam in his eye.

By touching his shoulder I felt like a ghod bestowing life on inanimate clay. His lashes fluttered open to reveal the spark within, as if twin suns were rising. And when he smiled, there was yet another dawn.

And how did I greet this splendid sight? "Good morning, Padawan. Time to make firstmeal."

"Yes, my master. Good morning to you," he'd usually reply.

By now, the objections of the ranchers' minds have melted into the normal background pulse of the Force. Time to get up.

I roll off the cot into a crouch. Oh, my poor back! I'm just not as young as I used to be. I straighten slowly, joints popping noisily into place.

I should probably take the time to heal a little, but it'll be better once I've stretched out a bit.

I am truly enjoying this firstmeal, not due to the entree, which is under spiced and overcooked. Rather, it is because of the company.

I've never associated with anyone from the AgriCorps before. Our responsibilities just don't overlap. And it's clear Davin has never worked with a Jedi master. We almost got off to a bad start.

The way he apologized so profusely for the poor accommodations and the institutional food made me quite uncomfortable. It's not as though any of it was his fault. He was just sent to investigate this plague like I was.

But he seemed to feel that it is an affront to treat a Jedi master as anything less than a minor deity. That must be left over from his stretch as an initiate. He would have lost that attitude quickly enough if he'd been chosen as a padawan learner.

I assured him that I was well overdue for a break from formalities, incomprehensible rules of etiquette, several-course meals, and the mysterious eating utensils of various cultures.

That was all it took, and suddenly, Davin -- he insisted I use his first name -- and I had a good rapport.

I suppose it's partly because he's about my age. I wonder if I might have even seen him around the Temple before he... left. I don't think he has much more gray than I do; it just shows more with the contrast to his originally black head of hair. And there's plenty of that, though he keeps it all neatly plaited in a long braid.

He may style his hair differently, but the shape of his mustache and beard is similar to my own. I guess that's not too surprising. I've borne the brunt of many jokes over the years about looking like a member of the AgriCorps.

It compliments his face. In fact, I like his features in general. Those caramel-colored eyes match his skin. He's not nearly so dark as Mace, probably just deeply tanned from being outdoors so much under countless suns. Probably explains the wrinkles, too.

I'm usually stuck indoors on my missions -- negotiations of some sort or another. But I've also had my share of missions out in the open, usually too much out in the open, on battlefields. I feel a sudden stab of -- what? It can't be envy, but maybe a sense of a missed opportunity -- as I think of him spending his life outdoors, nurturing and healing entire biosystems.

And that must be it. It's his Force signature that makes me so comfortable with him. He's very strong in the Living Force -- it just gathers around him like a flock of admirers.

"I still don't understand why the Council sent me," I confide to him suddenly. "In fact, I'm not even sure why you were sent. Aren't crops your specialty?"

"Well, in my case, it's probably the nature of the disease. The livestock itself isn't sick; it's the bifka's endosymbionts, called maxichlorians, that are infected. They're closer to plants than animals, though they channel energy from their host instead of the sun."

"They sound like midichlorians."

"Very like; in fact, a lot of basic research in midichlorians is actually performed on maxichlorians. Since they're larger, it's slightly easier to deal with them, or so I hear. And researchers are faced with fewer ethical issues, or rather, legal issues, dealing with bifka rather than Force-sensitive sentients.

I nod in agreement with his last point. The Force is created by all living things, and tainted by the pain of animals just as it is that of sentients. I can't imagine AgriCorps researchers conducting experiments on animals.

He continues, "That's why the corporation is allowed to slaughter and process the bifka. The meat is quite safe to eat. In fact, there's such a glut now, that it's practically all they serve here in the dining halls. I'm sure you'll get your fill of it."

His forlorn expression, as he scoops up another mouthful of his bifka scramble, makes it perfectly clear that he's had his fill, and I can't help but laugh.

"Yes," I agree wholeheartedly, "I don't think that will take too long."

"I'm surprised it hasn't already happened. Just wait till you try the bifka casserole."

I consider describing some of the foods I've had to eat in the field, but I stop myself. I don't want to remind him, if I can help it, of the career he never had. Not even the downside.

"So, how long does an animal live after its maxichlorians are infected?" I ask to fill the void.

"Basically, as long as it takes to starve, or get slaughtered. The bifka digestive process needs maxichlorians, which are wiped out incredibly quickly, in less than a day, once they are infected."

I make an involuntary noise of surprise. "Is the animal a carrier for the disease? If not, I can't see how the plague has spread all over the planet so fast. The maxichlorians don't live long enough to spread the disease very far."

"What a perceptive observation! Are you sure you're not interested in a career investigating infectious diseases?" he teases me gently.

"I already have my hands full," I'm quick to assure him.

"Well, you've just identified the first problem I faced when I arrived. The disease isn't carried by the animals, else I wouldn't have given the go-ahead to export the meat. The explanation is that there were nearly-simultaneous outbreaks in three geographically separate regions."

Although his statement is complete, it's clear to me that Davin is waiting for me to answer him somehow.

"That can't be natural. It must be sabotage." I answer both of our unasked questions. That must be why I was called in.

"Exactly," Davin confirms, smiling warmly at me.

I feel something blossoming inside, something vaguely familiar from my distant past. I realize it's the same feeling I used to get when Yoda expressed his satisfaction with my performance of a kata.

I also realize that most of Davin's wrinkles are, in fact, smile lines. Davin must smile a lot.

The certainty strikes me that Davin would have made a great Jedi master. How could it be that he wasn't chosen as a padawan? What a tremendous waste!

Well, maybe not entirely...

"Davin, tell me. Have you ever trained an apprentice?"

He doesn't seem the least bit put off by the change of subject. In fact, he seems delighted.

"Three!" he enthuses, "and I plan on taking a fourth. As soon as I can catch my breath. I tell you, Qui-Gon, each one has been a source of joy for me. Guiding them was even more rewarding than my work in the field. What about yourself? Did any of the knights out there saving the galaxy fledge from your nest?"

Ghods... I didn't even see that coming... some Jedi master I am!

"Just one," I manage to respond calmly. "He's out on the rim doing undercover work now. I never hear from him." Thank the Force he asked about knights, not apprentices!

"That must be hard for you," Davin says sympathetically. "My apprentices all trained in my own field of communicable diseases. We review each other's research papers regularly, and sometimes get to work on the same project together. I know I'd be heartbroken if I couldn't keep in touch with each of them."

He doesn't know the half of it. Or a third even. Ra-wari's being undercover is the least of my problems. Xanatos is dead. Obi-Wan is... gone.

I don't -- I can't -- say anything. My throat is tight, like someone is choking me.

"He would contact you if he could," Davin tries to comfort me.

That only causes the invisible hand around my throat to clench tighter. Obi-Wan hasn't.

Some of this must show on my face because despite my shielding, he continues, "I can see how much this pains you. But not all Jedi are destined to go undercover... maybe you should train another apprentice."

It is only because I am hurting so badly that I don't laugh out loud. That is the last thing I want to do. I wouldn't train another apprentice now if he were the Chosen One!

But I am a Jedi master and I will not make a fool of myself here in the dining hall, in front of dozens of ranch workers and one well-intentioned but misguided AgriCorps investigator.

I release as much as I can to the Force. When I'm certain my voice won't crack, I ask Davin, "Tell me, is there any hope for a vaccine for this plague?" It's not suave, but it will have to do.

"Oh, yes, every hope!" He leaps at the chance to move on to a safer topic. "I should have a vaccine within a few months. But by then it will be too late, given how widely spread it is already. I'm looking into potential treatments as well. Maybe one of those will pan out soon."

"Do you need any help from me?"

Davin looks stunned for a moment, as if he never expected a Jedi master to make him that kind of offer.

"No, thank you; not yet, at any rate. Maybe later, if I come up with something. In the meantime, you'll probably have to concentrate on tracking down the culprit."

He's probably right, thank the Force. Ghods know, I need the distraction.

What motivation could anyone have for killing off a major food supply?

Ambition is the first motive that always leaps to mind. At least, it has been since Xanatos... No! Stay focused.

Normally, I'd suspect a party interested in fomenting a little civil unrest. But on Targon III, the idea is ludicrous.

There's a lot more bifka than people on this planet and no government to speak of, just an employer. Most of the people living here are imported labor. If the bifka die off, and the jobs with them, they will simply move on.

Targon III is a major exporter of bifka meat, but there isn't a single population that relies on it as a staple. Except here. This plague won't cause unrest anywhere. Thank the Force!

Revenge is another popular motive. This could be the work of a disgruntled employee. But the ranch hands seem satisfied with the working conditions. Besides, they're not at all likely to have the contacts they'd need to develop a new maxichlorian disease. Maybe someone higher up, though. I'll look into that.

There's also a lot to be said for old-fashioned greed.

A competitor? Someone who wants to import bifka into this sector or maybe even try to buy the farm cheap? It doesn't seem likely; there's no other standout, but I'd better double-check.

Who else stands to gain? Bifka meat prices have plummeted with all the forced slaughtering. It's easy to overlook windfall opportunities when so much money is being lost.

But there are two sides to every credit. Meat processors? Most of the processing is done by the corporation. And the few independents there are won't be happy when the price skyrockets.

How else could one benefit from another's misfortune?

I wince inwardly as I abruptly remember having done so myself once. My opponent's dice toss was extremely unlucky, and it earned me a big pot. Yes, I cheated, but the Force was on my side. I desperately needed the money to buy a replacement part for our spacecraft.

I chuckle a bit, imagining someone betting that bifka prices would drop precipitously. The smile freezes on my face as I realize that one could gamble exactly that. Legally.

Before I lie down on the torture device they provided me to sleep upon, I smack my poor excuse of a pillow, more in frustration than in any real attempt to fluff it.

The entire day wasted... Sith take all bureaucrats! Are they the same on every planet? This batch is certainly expert at giving me the run-around, instead of the information I need.

I'll have to take a speeder into town so I can see them in person. Force suggestion won't work over a comm link.

There are probably some decent places to eat in town, but I won't leave until after firstmeal. I want to meet with Davin again. It's no wonder he stayed out in the field all day instead of returning for second or even latemeal. Protein bars probably look pretty good to him by now.

I hardly know him, but I can't help but be impressed with him. Of course, it's very unusual to find someone so strongly Force sensitive who isn't a Jedi master.

How could he have slipped through the cracks? How could the Order's bureaucracy be so broken? How many talented youngsters have been overlooked?

Obi-Wan nearly was, but that was all my fault. With a start, I suddenly realize that ultimately I didn't do him any favors by rescuing him from a life in the AgriCorps.

Perhaps Davin would have chosen him as an apprentice... he might even have been sent here on this very mission!

Maybe he'd be happy. After all, the AgriCorps probably saves more people from starvation than the Jedi knighthood saves from warfare.

I might have met him here for the first time. But he wouldn't be my Obi-Wan any more. He'd be... Davin's.

It is completely irrational for me to feel jealous of something that never happened. Especially when the truth could be far worse.

Force only knows where Obi-Wan is now, what he is doing... I want him to be happy. I know I can't have him, but I hope I haven't completely ruined his life. Ghods... let him be safe at any rate!

Please, Obi-Wan, let me hear from you. Just let me know you're all right...

I lurch up off the cot and onto my knees to meditate. I know the Force won't re-arrange the universe to suit my desires, but a night of kneeling on the floor will probably do my mind and body far more good than lying on that cot would.

Perhaps I should have passed on firstmeal -- I wasn't able to see Davin anyway. It's not easy keeping that bifka scramble down while remembering how to fly a speeder.

I wonder what he is so busy doing that it kept him out in the field overnight. I suppose his accommodations are like mine. Who wouldn't rather spend the night camping out under the stars than trapped inside a windowless room? And if I could get my hands on a sleeping bag, I would gladly offer my cot up for Davin's next campfire.

It's a good thing that flying a speeder is like... flying a speeder. One of those things you never forget.

It's been years since I've piloted one myself. Obi-Wan was so excited when I let him take over. Of course, he tried not to show it. And I acted as if it were a duty rather than a treat.

Ghods! I love being out here... the sun on my face, the wind whipping my hair and robe around. If only Obi-Wan were sitting in front, I could just enjoy the ride. Well, more than just the ride.

Letting Obi-Wan pilot the speeders was a treat for me too -- holding on to him, moving our weight in tandem, feeling the hard muscles in his back work as he made adjustments, pressing my mouth against his ear in order for him to hear me...

Force! What I wouldn't give to have him here.

I check the "specials" board... bifka stew, bifka steak, bifka burger... all attractively priced.

"I'll have the pima salad with house dressing and a large iced kaffe to drink."

"You got it, Sugar." The waitress, a matronly human, winks at me before she sticks the stylus back into her puffed up hair and sweeps the menu out of my hands. I can't help but wonder if I'm the first Jedi master in history to be called 'Sugar'. She acts as though serving someone like me were an everyday occurrence for her.

In fact the customers all seem to be taking my presence in stride. There's a fair number... it's coming up on midday and the secondmeal rush is just starting.

I can see they're all regulars. They call the waitress by name -- Fluvi -- and each new arrival heads straight to some chair or stool as if it had his name on it.

They must recognize my tunics, surely. We're not all that far from the core. And even out on the rim, though we don't show up there in the flesh very often, they recognize us when we do. Must be all the holovids.

I rather like it this way instead. It's nice to be able to relax -- and look forward to an edible meal, to judge from this diner's popularity -- after the morning I had.

I spent it inside the federal office complex. How a building that small from the outside could be so labyrinthine inside is beyond me. If it weren't for the Force, their nonsensical office numbering scheme would have defeated me before I could even engage the battle.

And their chain of responsibility is hardly a chain. More like a glob. Even after I signed on each individual to help me, none of them had the authority to release any of the data chips I needed. Thank the Force there was a conference room where I could call them together and mind whammy them all at once.

Fluvi, beneath her inflated hairdo, is striding towards me with a tray of drinks, stopping to deposit one in front of a patron every so often. She thrusts a small synthpap napkin in front of me and parks the moisture-beaded tumbler of kaffe on it. She starts to draw out a sheathed straw from a stash on her tray, but I hold up my hand and she moves on.

What the Sith!!! A shock wave of Force strikes me from behind, but then is stamped out. I can almost hear the first-class shields snap into place -- quickly, but not quickly enough.

I jump to my feet, twisting around to face the entrance. In the open doorway, two silhouettes are outlined against the bright background.

One is a tall, thin human, packing a low-slung blaster beneath a short jacket.

The other is more compact, not heavy, but well-developed -- a form I would recognize anywhere, even without the tunics and the padawan braid hanging off to the side. The only discordant note is a blaster holster where a lightsaber should be attached.

The heads of the two shadows tip towards each other, and even with enhanced hearing I can't quite catch what they are saying over the bustle of the diner.

Then Obi-Wan's face, wearing a look of studied calm, becomes visible as he steps inside, towards me. I am dimly aware of the taller man trailing behind him.

Obi-Wan is shielding so heavily I can't tell what he is feeling now. But in that first unguarded moment I felt his surprise. No; surprise doesn't begin to describe it. More like dismay, with even a trace of panic.

And I realize there is something worse than not being in contact with Obi-Wan for months on end. It is seeing him react this way when we finally do meet up again.

I have so often imagined a reunion with Obi-Wan. It always starts out with a kiss like the one we shared on the landing. I ache to reach out to him, But he doesn't even approach me directly.

Instead, he comes around to the other side of my table and says simply, "May we join you, Master Jinn?"

There was a pause before my surname, but his use of it nearly destroys me. We've come down to this. Any hope I had that we might be able to pick up where we left off crumbles into oblivion.

"Of course," I manage to say. I'm not even sure how to address him now.

"Master Jinn," he says more smoothly this time, "may I introduce Rudd Ferrin, my... "

"Partner," Ferrin inserts into Obi-Wan's gap, his tone suggesting a wealth of meaning. I don't need the Force to suspect that this... companion... may have everything to do with Obi-Wan's attitude. How long have they known each other -- did Obi-Wan run from the Temple smack into this man's arms? Is that why he never contacted me?

Ferrin and I bow minimally to each other -- Jedi training allows me to offer him this courtesy -- and we all take a seat, with Obi-Wan sitting directly across from me.

I stare at Obi-Wan. He hasn't sprouted a beard or even grown out his padawan cut. Although he maintains his air of apparent calm, he is not returning my regard. Instead, he seems to find his hands, resting lightly on the table, fascinating.

Fluvi maneuvers herself over to our table, extracting her stylus from its nest. "What'll it be, boys?" she directs at them.

"We'll have the usual, Fluvi," Ferrin replies for both of them.

"Comin' right up!" she chirps, heading off again.

The usual? They must have been on this planet for some time, frequenting this diner. No wonder Fluvi and the customers weren't surprised by my outfit. It's not so different from Obi-Wan's.

Obi-Wan's face remains averted. As desperate as I am to know every detail of what has happened to him in the last six months, it's clear he doesn't want to talk to me.

Rather than continue to stare at my former padawan, I force myself to turn to Ferrin. Having been handily beaten time and again as a hulking padawan by my half-pint master, I, of all people, should know that looks can be deceiving. But in Rudd Ferrin's case, I suspect they are not.

His dark hair is not much longer than Obi-Wan's, still short but long enough to be unruly. His brown eyes lack all the warmth that color conveys in Davin's. I simply can't think of them as anything but beady beneath his black brows. His hollow cheeks give him a hungry look, and even his nose is thin, though long and hooking a bit. His features border on bestial, like those of a predator -- or perhaps more like a scavenger -- a carnivore at any rate.

The half-sneer on his face might be directed at me, but there is nothing tender in his manner towards Obi-Wan either. Parting the wave of hostility he is radiating towards me, I can detect an undercurrent of lust, but also something resembling smugness, directed at Obi-Wan.

It's that complacency that bothers me the most. If Obi-Wan's shields weren't up to their usual standard, I might think he was drugged or affected in some other way.

I want to grab Ferrin by the collar of his jacket, pull his face to within a few microns of mine and demand to know what he's done to my Obi-Wan.

Instead I ask him, "So, what do you do for a living?"

"I'm the captain of my own vessel," he replies, not bothering to hide his pride. "And you could say Obi-Wan is the... first mate."

During his deliberate pause, a wandering hand of his finds the padawan braid and reels it in until Obi-Wan's head is pulled towards his. Obi-Wan's face remains wooden until Ferrin's white teeth suddenly bite viciously on his earlobe.

Obi-Wan startles, flushes deeply, and stammers out, "Please, not now... not in front of -- I mean, not in public."

I don't know what Obi-Wan has told Ferrin of me, but it's obvious what Ferrin is doing. He is flaunting his possession of Obi-Wan, establishing his dominion. If fighting Ferrin could bring back my Obi-Wan, I would be tempted to rip his throat out with my teeth.

But Obi-Wan himself must have chosen Ferrin. Maybe, feeling rejected from the Order, he chose someone as unlike a Jedi as possible. The man he picked certainly bears no resemblance to me. If I ever had a claim on Obi-Wan, I've lost it now.

That fact stabs at me like an icy dagger; at the same time I am aflame with rage at Ferrin. I must release these emotions to the Force... later.

Ferrin chuckles a little, but withdraws, looking sidelong at me. For my part, if looks could kill, Rudd Ferrin would be a smoldering chunk of carbon. That's what my heart feels like. A flash fire has consumed it and now it is lifeless ash.

Fluvi chooses this moment to deliver our orders, breaking up the tension by banging the platters down on the table. Like me, they are both having iced kaffe. Ferrin has a steak with some fried tubers on the side. Obi-Wan's choice is the same as mine.

Our pima salads are attractively presented, but mine might as well be shredded synthpap; I have no appetite and I can't even register the taste as I chew mechanically. Obi-Wan's left earlobe matches the color of the bright red pima slices.

Obi-Wan seems to have the same issue. He uses his utensils to move his salad around on his plate, rather than convey it to his mouth.

His discomfort consoles me marginally. At least he isn't totally hostile or indifferent towards me. He must be conflicted, unable to let go of the past -- of me -- entirely.

I can't just sit here in silence, letting my chance slip away. I have to try to get through to him.

"Obi-Wan, how are you doing?" I ask him in a gentle voice.

"I'm... fine." He darts a glance up from his plate.

Why did I ask? I know that's not true. What in the name of the Force has happened to him? What is he doing with a character like Ferrin? And why is he still wearing his tunics? Maybe I can at least get an answer to that.

"So, I guess you're just used to your tunics, Obi-Wan?" I ask him in a light conversational tone.

"I like him wearing them," Ferrin interjects. "It's like having my very own padawan," he adds, stroking Obi-Wan's plait negligently.

I cover the choked noise I make by clearing my throat. Imagine Ferrin as a Jedi master! I suppose a Hutt would be a less likely candidate; Jedi tunics don't come that large.

Yet for some reason Obi-Wan is letting Ferrin master him. It must be voluntary. Obi-Wan may have failed his Trials, but he's every bit as powerful as most knights. And Obi-Wan's left earlobe has more of a Force signature than all of Rudd Ferrin. Particularly now.

It's not illegal to dress like a Jedi padawan. Obi-Wan could wear the robes of a master, if he preferred, as long as he didn't impersonate one on official business of the Order. Since he's packing a blaster, instead of a lightsaber, he wouldn't truly fool anyone, anyway.

"So, what brings you to Targon III, Master Jinn?" Ferrin gives slight emphasis to my title, just enough to convey that it is intended as some sort of insult.

"I'm here to help with the plague that's affecting the cattle," I answer half-truthfully. There's no other plausible reason a Jedi would be present on this Force-forsaken rock.

"I wasn't aware that the Council, or perhaps I should say the Senate, sends Jedi masters to baby-sit sick bifka," he comments matter-of-factly.

Ferrin sinks his teeth into a chunk of his steak and I can't help but think of them biting Obi-Wan's flesh, marking him. I examine what I can of Obi-Wan's neck. Even though I don't see any visible passion marks, I am still seething with the thought that there might be hidden spots where he has claimed my Obi-Wan.

"Perhaps I'll be able to find something else to do while I'm here," I comment mildly. "What about yourself? What brings you here?"

"Business," he replies tersely, slicing off another forkful of bifka.

"Really? I didn't know you were interested in cattle, Obi-Wan," I turn back to my former padawan, anxious to find a way to get him talking.

"I'm interested in the same things as Rudd." This answer provokes a self-satisfied grin from said 'partner'.

After absorbing that blow, I counter, "Well, if you're interested in cattle now, maybe we could get together later to discuss this plague and remember old times." After a short pause, I add, "Alone."

Obi-Wan looks up quickly and I see a flash of fear pass over his face. I'm dreadfully certain he will decline outright, but once again Ferrin answers for him, "I think that's an excellent idea, but Obi-Wan and I have to get back to my ship directly after lunch. Let's contact you later to arrange it. What's your comm number?"

As I give it to Ferrin and he punches it into a handset, Obi-Wan looks apprehensive rather than grateful. Then he returns his attention, if not his appetite, to his salad.

Why is Obi-Wan so concerned? Is he afraid to revisit the feelings we shared?

I will have him to myself later, so I give up the effort of making him speak in front of Ferrin. And since I have no interest in chit-chatting with Ferrin himself, the rest of the meal passes in silence.

When we are finished, the two pima salads look rearranged, but not much reduced in volume. Ferrin's plate is bare.

Fluvi comes to clear the table. "Something wrong with the pimas today, boys?"

"No," I assure her. "They were fine. I guess we just weren't all that hungry."

Ferrin hands Fluvi a credit chip, declaring, "I'll pick up the tab." Turning to me he adds, "I've come into some money recently."

"I'll just bet," I murmur, mostly to myself.

Flying a speeder must be something one can do without conscious effort, because I don't remember a single moment of the trip back to the ranch.

I've been trying -- really trying -- to review these data chips, but the letters and figures keep blurring on me.

I know I should meditate, but honestly I did more than enough of that last night. And I don't want to think any more. I just want to wear myself out.

That thought propels me quickly outside. Here, open space is not a problem, but seclusion is. I find a modicum of privacy on the lee side of the bunk house.

I drape my robe over a nearby railing and without so much as a warm-up, dive into the seventh level forms.

The Force doesn't desert me. In fact, it sweeps me up in the dance with more power than I can ever remember. Perhaps it does have a soul after all.

I am fixed in the moment, the movements of my body following patterns etched into the Force for thousands of years, each breath in communion with each thrust, each motion dictating the next.

As I whip through the series of katas, they start being less earth-bound; the Force surges through me and I take flight. My flesh becomes a way to guide my will and it is only now that a few of the things my master told me often enough truly snap into place. And certainly size matters not, for otherwise the intricate aerials I am performing would be impossible.

I well into the last of the seventh level forms before I even realize that it is the Falling Stars kata. But with that recognition comes the memory of Obi-Wan flying like a wind spirit, and abruptly, I land hard, jarring my lightsaber from my grasp.

Before I can call it back, its arc carries it within a hand's breadth of Davin, who would have been seriously injured had he not already leapt out of the way.

Instead of being angry, Davin remarks contritely, "I'm so sorry, Qui-Gon. I didn't mean to ruin your concentration."

I hadn't even realized he was there. "Davin! Thank the Force you weren't hurt. That was all my own fault, not yours."

"I wouldn't be too sure about that, Qui-Gon," he retorts lightly. "Lightsabers and I have never gotten along very well. That's why I chose the AgriCorps instead of trying out as a padawan."

I hope I didn't just broadcast my astonishment at that statement. It simply has never occurred to me that anyone would choose that path. Of course, it was always possible, but no one ever did. No one, except for Davin, it seems.

"I don't know what happened just then," he gestures to the still-active lightsaber lying on the ground, "but prior to that point, I'd never seen anything more astounding in my life. I've never regretted my choice of career, but I might have given it a second thought if I'd seen you perform those katas first."

"Well, it looks like I could still use some more practice," I say, bending over to retrieve my saber.

"If you decide to practice more, let me know; that is, if you wouldn't mind an audience..."

"Just as long as that audience can move fast enough to avoid getting skewered. So what have you been doing out in the field?" I am genuinely curious, not just trying to change the topic.

"I visited the other sites of the initial outbreaks. I'm glad I went. It was very enlightening."

"Oh?" I prompt him as I pick up my robe.

We start walking together back towards the main facilities.

"Yes, the methods of dissemination were different at each site." He ticks them off on his fingers. "In one case, it appears a suspension was added to the water supply. In another, some of the feed may have been contaminated. Here, it seems an aerosol was introduced into the ventilation system of a barn."

"That's odd. Do you have any idea why they might have done it different ways?" I ask him. It could have some bearing on my own investigation.

"Perhaps they were making sure they hit on a successful method. In point of fact, the aerosol was by far the most effective."

Not really very helpful. It just means that the disease was experimental, but we had assumed that already.

We've reached the main buildings. And though I am grateful that Davin has been distracting me from my own problems, I doubt he wants to be anywhere near me indoors. I desperately need a shower.

We separate, him off to the lab, me to my room to pick up a clean outfit before I head to the communal shower.

I know for certain that when I retire from field duty, I won't be volunteering to work in the archives.

I love to read. My tastes are fairly eclectic -- philosophy, history, poetry, biography, politics, classics, and even a mystery from time to time. But even I would never choose to spend my time sorting through terabytes of mind-numbing data.

I haven't often had to do it myself. When I didn't have a padawan to take care of it for me, there were always the archivists on Coruscant. It was only those times I was both between apprentices and off-planet.

I pop another chip into the reader. This one contains records of all the transactions of bifka contracts for the past several months. I sort them by holdings, so that the people with the largest investments are listed first.

A list of fortunes made and lost. Some of these people probably lost everything. I filter for only those selling the contracts short... those who were betting the price would go down.

The corporation itself is listed at the top, but that's not the least bit suspicious. Large as it was, the position was clearly just a routine hedge. It will prevent the corporation from going bankrupt and provide the seed money to restock the herds. But it won't completely make up for the losses.

There are several other big players, some names familiar to me from the mission brief package. I start cross-checking their trading histories to see if their latest short positions were uncharacteristic.

I must focus on this task. My mind wants to race back to the past and review each instant of that painful secondmeal, or reach into the future and plan a way to extract Obi-Wan from whatever he's gotten himself into. But I have a duty to perform and I must live in the moment.

It's just so hard to avoid thinking about Obi-Wan right now because he would be doing this research for me if he were still my padawan.

I'm sure he'd figure out a way to automate this -- use some function to identify active futures traders, then automatically filter them out. I don't have the knack. Or maybe I just haven't had enough practice.

If he did this for me, the long list of names would be instantly reduced to a few potential suspects. Instead, I will have to do this the hard way, checking out each one individually.

Resigned, I scroll down the list, mulling over how much of it I will have to go through so I can make sure I've included everyone who might have a financial motive. I've paged too far -- the short positions at this point are only worth a few thousand credits -- when one name blazes out at me like a beacon.

Rudd Ferrin.

"So, what do you think of the infamous bifka casserole?" Davin asks me, a hint of mischief in his tone.

"It tastes just like something Master used to make," I assure him with false enthusiasm. In truth it does bear some resemblance to one of Yoda's Dagobahn specialties. Whenever the urge struck him to concoct it, I ate in the refectory.

Davin laughs. "You have my condolences, then."

If I hadn't effectively skipped secondmeal, I would probably pass on this one. But I do need to eat something. And I should make an effort to converse normally with Davin before he reaches the conclusion that I can't eat with him without falling into a funk.

"So, how is your research going?" I ask him. I'll let him do most of the talking.

"Not very well, I'm afraid," he admits. "Even if I had a cure, it would be impractical. The window of infection is so short that by the time one finds out that the maxichlorians in an animal have contracted the disease, they've usually already died off."

"What about the vaccine?"

"It will come in time, but I doubt it will ever get used. If the culprits want to strike again, they'll simply develop a new strain and the vaccine will be ineffective."

It sounds hopeless. But wasn't he talking about treatments earlier? I finish choking down my current mouthful of casserole before asking him about them.

"That's been very disappointing too. I had hoped to find a way to conveniently store a supply of each bifka's maxichlorians. That way, after the disease has run its course, each animal's maxichlorians could be re-hosted."

"That sounds promising." I'm sure Davin is good at his work.

"Yes, but the maxichlorians aren't cooperating. I've taken dozens of blood samples, but I haven't figured out a way to keep them alive for more than a few hours once they are removed from the host."

He sighs then turns the tables. "How about you? Have you found out anything yet?"

"Yes and no. I haven't identified anyone with enough of a financial motive to be behind all this. But I've found a person who must know something about it." I'm so sure that Ferrin is involved that I even sent a status report to the Council naming him.

Davin's face lights up. "That's wonderful! If medical technology can't stop future outbreaks, maybe you can!"

His enthusiasm is genuine, and I feel a flush of pride, as if I might be about to avert a war single-handedly. I suppose it's not so different; the bifka aren't sentient, but still, catching the guilty parties might save countless numbers of them from starving to death on other planets.

"I'll try," I say, safe in the knowledge that a certain gimmer stick is many light years away at the moment.

What will it be... the short, uncomfortable cot or the cold, hard floor? It's close, but I think I'll try the cot again tonight. This blanket is so scratchy that I'd best keep my undertunic on.

With a sigh of resignation, I lay down and curl slightly on my side. I really should get to sleep, but, comfort aside, it still seems a hopeless task.

Even if I hadn't run out of distractions, I wouldn't be able to keep my mind off Obi-Wan now. The call came through from him -- Obi-Wan, not Ferrin as I'd feared -- and I was able to convince him to meet me here, tomorrow morning, alone.

It wasn't hard at all; in fact he suggested it. Maybe he wants to find a way to get out of his situation.

Thank the Force, if so. I will take him back to the Temple with me... I'd really like to see Ferrin try to stop me! We will think about what Obi-Wan can do at home later. Right now, it's more important just to get him away from that influence.

But I can't feed myself false hopes. Obi-Wan was definitely not pleased to see me. And even if that was because of his "partner" with him, there's still a lot of reasons Obi-Wan wouldn't want to return to the Temple.

If he doesn't want to come, I can't very well kidnap him... hmm... oh, Force, what am I thinking? I'm just so desperate I'm willing to try just about anything.

This is the last thing I'd ever expect! Yes, I was shocked when Xanatos turned; of course, I didn't see that coming. But in retrospect all the clues were there, and certainly Yoda suspected it long beforehand.

But Obi-Wan... not him! I've never seen anyone so grounded in the Light. I just can't believe -- I know he hasn't actually turned. He must simply be... misguided.

Suddenly I realize where I went wrong. Obi-Wan truly wasn't ready to be a knight. He does have all the skills, and that's what fooled me.

He's not all that remarkably young; some humans are knighted in their mid-twenties. Still, he must not have been emotionally prepared. Why else would he have gotten involved with Ferrin and his Force-knows-what shady dealings?

It probably dates back to when I rejected him as a padawan... I should have been more open-handed with my praise... failing his Trials must have made things worse. Whatever the cause, he's clearly not ready now to use his abilities wisely.

I can focus on finding something to charge Ferrin with, but even if I manage to put him away for a good long time, there's no guarantee Obi-Wan won't fall in with someone else just like him.

Sith! What a mess. I'll just have to convince him to come home.

Much as I like Davin, I don't want to face him, or bifka scramble, just before I see Obi-Wan.

I had intended to meet Obi-Wan at the entrance to the ranch. Instead I set out early and continue walking on down the access road that he will be taking.

I've made it several miles when I hear the whine of a far-off speeder, coming at me rather fast. I reach out to sense the rider -- but I can't -- which means it must be Obi-Wan, well-shielded.

After a few minutes, the speeder rounds a small bluff and comes into view. He sees me at the same time and brakes abruptly, landing and fishtailing to a stop beside me.

He jumps off and, before I can open my mouth to say anything, Obi-Wan has flung his arms around me and is kissing it shut. This time it is like all the times I'd fantasized about our reunion. Obi-Wan picks up the kiss right where we left off on the landing ramp.

Instantly, the hopes I thought I had buried deeply burst through the surface again. Now they are all-consuming, for there is no acceptable alternative. I love Obi-Wan and Obi-Wan loves me, and I will find a way for us to be together.

But my body lives in this moment, and I can't believe how badly I want him. Without thought, I've pushed my tongue deep into his pliant mouth and I've backed him up to the speeder so I can grind my hard-on against him more effectively. And he is only encouraging me with his hands on my ass, making little needful noises, using my motion to rub his own erection.

My left hand is clasped around the back of his neck, as if to hold him captive. The other is stroking hard up and down his back, causing him to writhe with the contact, until it encounters the padawan braid and I stiffen.

Obi-Wan uses this opportunity to break the kiss and pant, "We need to go some place private."

We do. "Obi-Wan, we need to talk. We'll go to my room."

He arches his brow at me, and I know what that gesture is saying. But we will talk first, even if I have to hold him at saber point.

He mounts the speeder and I snuggle up behind him for the short ride. It's a lot like the times he piloted me as a padawan, only this time I feel free to nestle my erection up against his rump and nuzzle his neck as I direct him to my building.

We keep our hands to ourselves, even though no one is around, for the walk to my room. I usher him inside, where he stops dead, looking at the cot, then turns to me, and with an impish half-grin says, "You must be joking."

Instead of laughing, I almost cry, I am so relieved to see my Obi-Wan again.

Some sound does escape, and Obi-Wan reacts to it, putting a Force lock on the door with a negligent wave as he steps up to me. He places his hands gently on my shoulders and leans in for a kiss, but I press my palms to his chest and push back lightly, saying, "Obi-Wan, listen to me... I want you to return to Coruscant with me."

He looks at me intently with those vibrant hazel eyes, but the furrow on his brow gives me fair warning. He shakes his head slightly and simply says, "I can't."

Sith damn it! If only this could have been easy. For an insane moment I actually consider a Force compulsion, but other issues aside, it would never work on him.

Obi-Wan tries to kiss me again, but I pull my head away. He slides his arms around me, lays his head on my shoulder and starts swaying both of us slowly together, as if we were dancing to some silent piece of sad music.

"Listen, Obi-Wan, you wouldn't have to work for the Jedi. You could get an outside job. If you want, I'd even help you pay for an off-Temple apartment. You wouldn't need to have anything to do with the Order.

Instead of responding, he threads his fingers into my hair and pulls my face towards his. I don't want to fight him, so I let him draw me down into a sensuous kiss. His lips entice mine into a dance of their own, slow and languorous, as we continue to sway. I press my lips against his a little more firmly and hug him close to my chest.

We can talk later.

Now that I've succumbed, our lovemaking quickly escalates again. The unheard rhythm speeds up and what had been swaying turns into rocking. Our breathing is similarly affected and I gasp when Obi-Wan reaches down and squeezes my erection.

He then walks me backward to the cot, where without further ado he unties my leggings and pulls them down. My cock springs free and I feel uncomfortably exposed, but it doesn't last because Obi-Wan's next action is to bend over and engulf me to the root.

I yelp at the surprise and sensation and collapse into a sitting position on the cot. My sudden drop pulls my member from his mouth with a pop, but he swoops down and takes me deep again.

His braid slides off his shoulder and taps against my thigh. I remind myself it isn't meaningful any more. I'd always tried to think of my padawan as a virgin, not to be touched until knighthood.

Obi-Wan's actions make it clear he's no novice. While one of his hands massages my balls, the other is busy deftly tweaking my nipples. But my cock isn't suffering any lack of attention. He is squeezing the entire length of it with his throat muscles.

An ember of jealousy flares in my breast as I realize where Obi-Wan must have acquired this expertise, but even that thought is consumed by the searing pleasure.

My hips begin to jerk violently and I'm not sure he can handle it, but he starts bobbing up and down like a man obsessed, using his tongue and lips whenever he pulls back far enough.

I manage to last a few minutes under this assault before I am howling as he sucks out my essence, milking me -- his tongue licking my cockhead and his fingers kneading my balls. My orgasm keeps coming in waves, longer than I would have thought possible, and when it's finally all over, Obi-Wan still sucks lightly on my softening member, as if making sure to get every drop.

I just want to lie down and bask in the afterglow, but I use this time to gather my wits, which have been scattered like seeds from a bursting tuva fruit.

I should reciprocate, and Force knows I'd love to, but it's more important for me to win him over. If I press my case now, while he is still wanting, it may give me the advantage I need. Almost as good as a Force compulsion.

I pull him up next to me, into a sitting embrace, and he whispers in my ear, "Master, I'm so sorry..."

Not what I'd expect to hear someone say after performing an act like that, but I understand. It's an apology for whatever he's been up to these past six months with Rudd Ferrin as his 'partner'. I forgive him, of course.

I push his head down onto my shoulder and rub his back, not to stoke his passion, but to comfort him, and I murmur in reply, "It's all right, my Obi-Wan. It will be all right. I can accept whatever you've done; the past doesn't matter. Just come home now." I'll be with him to make sure he doesn't stray... from the Light.

But he lifts his head up to look me in the eyes. "You don't understand. I can't"

I didn't realize how much his apology had fostered my hope until it was dashed. The prospect of having my Obi-Wan again felt so right that it seemed a foregone conclusion.

Instead of giving up, I am more determined than ever. I can't leave him alone; I know we belong together.

And suddenly I see the solution. It's blindingly obvious, yet choosing this path is simply not the sort of thing that would ever occur to me. But it had occurred to Obi-Wan, on Melida/Daan, and it must have again during his Trials.

If Obi-Wan won't return with me, then I must leave the Order to be with him. I don't have so many years left in the field, and after that I won't be much use. I certainly won't train another apprentice. It makes more sense for me to salvage my last one, and give him the guidance he needs to devote his talents to the Light. And to spend the rest of my life together with the man I love.

It is a huge decision, but it is made in a moment. Not out of selfishness, but because I know that he needs me even more than I need him.

"Maybe you're right, Obi-Wan. Maybe you can't fulfill your destiny on Coruscant. But I know I belong with you. I'm more sure of it now than ever. I used to believe that I had to be a part of the Order, but now I realize that being Jedi in spirit is all that matters. And I also know that I can't be a complete Jedi, or even a complete man, without you. I love you. If you won't come home with me, I'll leave the Order to be with you."

Obi-Wan's shields waver but hold and a confusing mix of emotions sweeps across his face. I know he is deeply affected, but I can't tell exactly how. Instead of answering me, he centers himself, reaching for the Force. Any delay is painful, but I am heartened. Obi-Wan is doing the right thing, as I taught him. And I know the Force is on my side, that we belong together.

So I am completely unprepared when Obi-Wan breaks the silence to answer, "Master, I know you can't understand this. But I have to stay with Rudd."

I don't believe it! I am so stunned that I can't breathe. I've just volunteered to sacrifice my home, my career, my known universe, my very identity for him. I told him I love him. Did he hear me at all? Did he listen to the Force? What possible hold could Ferrin have to negate all that?

My compassion for him hardens. What I say next may hurt him, but it has to be said and I have to do what I must. If Obi-Wan won't leave Ferrin, I'll make sure they are parted anyway.

"Obi-Wan, you can't stay with him. I don't know what you've been doing; I'm not sure I want to know. But I am sure that Ferrin is involved with this plague and I have enough evidence already to put him away. And I'm going to do just that." I am bluffing a little, but he can't know that.

There is a long pause, after which he admits, "I was afraid of that." His voice sounds resigned.

Instead of arguing with me, he leans over and kisses me softly on the forehead. I can't read this new mood at all, but he's fiddling with his utility belt and he extracts something -- a tube of lubricant, perhaps.

Maybe he thinks he can change my mind by making love to me. Or maybe he realizes that Ferrin won't be there for him and he's willing to turn to me instead.

He reaches up to my neck and I expect him to start caressing me, but instead I feel a sharp pinch.

The drug that was in that injector must be very strong...

"I've never seen anything like this, Qui-Gon," Obi-Wan says to me, sounding perplexed.

"Neither have I, Obi-Wan," I confess.

One of the things I love about working in the AgriCorps is that everyone's on a first-name basis with you, even your own apprentice.

And, of course, I love the way the Living Force sings for me when I am called to stave off crop failures or to help nurture ecosystems on newly terraformed worlds.

Obi-Wan has developed to his full potential under my tutelage. He is my own version of the Light, though he needed my help to find his way with the Living Force. But he always responded well to praise, and pushed himself past his limits to please me.

This is our last mission together before he can start taking assignments on his own. And soon, I hope, I can push my own limits to please him.

This blight is mysterious, and we decide to meditate together to bring the Force to bear on the problem. We kneel in an open field, holding hands, the sun on our faces, our knees sinking into the rich humus. A slight breeze rustles the stalks surrounding us. I could live in this moment forever.

We reach out, but instead of answering our call, the Force slips away. The wind picks up and I feel chilled as clouds start to gather on the distant landscape.

We center and make another attempt, but the Living Force flees the fast-spreading overcast, which shuts out the Light and sucks the life from all it touches.

I know it is futile, but there is nothing else I can do but try to reach for the Living Force again and again. Even if I could regain my connection, I'm certain it would be impotent against the approaching shadows.

As it closes in, the Darkness resolves into the semblance of a robed figure, his face completely obscured by his hood.

Obi-Wan breaks our grip and yells to me over the now-howling winds, "Master, I must fight!"

It's suicide. Even together, we wouldn't be a match for power of this magnitude, for I know we are facing a Sith Lord. But Obi-Wan starts to run towards this opponent without me.

"Obi-Wan!" I call out. "There must be another way!"

As if in response, Obi-Wan splits neatly, becoming two whole men. One brandishes a lightsaber, its color impossibly white. The other runs towards the Dark One with open arms.

The Sith points at the hostile Obi-Wan with his left hand and red lightning arcs out, engulfing him. He spasms and writhes for a few moments then falls lifeless to the ground.

With his right arm the Dark Lord reaches out and clasps the other Obi-Wan to him.

"Welcome, my new apprentice," he says softly in a voice that carries across the galaxy.

"I have exactly what you want, my master," Obi-Wan replies in a lascivious tone.

I am surprised that I can hear him over the sound of my own voice screaming.

Soft pillow, soft mattress. Too much light. Med ward? Can't clear my head. Concussion? Why am I restrained?

"Obi-Wan!" I shout out loud as my memory rushes back.

My brains feel scrambled -- must be after-effects of the drug. I reach for the Force to try to purge the remnants from my system, but it's muffled and far-off and won't respond to my call.

My stomach drops when I realize that it isn't due to the drug. A collar is pressing around my throat and it feels like it is sucking the heat -- and Light -- out of my entire body and mind.

I force my eyes back open. There is sunshine streaming in through a transparisteel doorway, leading onto a balcony. Otherwise the bedroom I'm in is nondescript, containing only a few pieces of rough-hewn furniture.

The door opens, but instead of Obi-Wan, Rudd Ferrin strides in. I wonder if that sneer is a permanent feature of his face, or if he saves it for me.

"Where am I?" I manage to grit out.

"You're my guest in our temporary lodgings. It's such an honor to play host to a Jedi master." He bows deeply, clearly enjoying himself. "I'd originally only anticipated an AgriCorps worker, but you're much more deserving of that expensive piece of jewelry."

An AgriCorps worker? He must have originally been planning on kidnapping Davin.

"Why?" I'm in no shape for witty repartee, but I need to find out as much as I can.

"All in the interests of science, I assure you. But you'll find out in due time."

That seems to be the end of that line of questioning.

I want to know how Obi-Wan could have done this to me, but I settle for asking, "Where's Obi-Wan?"

"Oh, he's running some errands. It's nice having a padawan to do all the drudge work." His grin broadens when he sees me wince.

I make a big effort. "Let me go now. Someone will come looking for me." I wish this were true; but only Davin might miss me, and he probably thinks I'm busy somewhere with my investigation.

He laughs. "Oh, don't you worry your pretty little head about me. I can take care of myself. Besides, I don't think we'll need to detain you for very long." All this is said in a saccharine tone. His voice reverts to normal as he declares, "It's after we're done that I'd worry about, if I were you."

So saying, he laughs again and continues laughing as he leaves the room, shutting the door firmly.

My eyes are closed. I've been trying to meditate. Without being able to draw on the Force, it's hardly worth the effort. But I can't do anything else and I need to find a way to stop bombarding myself with my own thoughts.

I thought Obi-Wan loved me. He didn't say so, but what was that apology all about otherwise, not to mention the sex?

It all crashed to a halt the moment I threatened Ferrin. Force! How could Obi-Wan be so under his control that he would put me in his power as well?

I never thought I'd live to see the day Obi-Wan would lift a hand against me. He didn't hurt me physically, but I almost wish he had. Xanatos, at least, betrayed me for the sake of his own father. But Obi-Wan doing it for Rudd Ferrin? I'd rather be dead.

Does he love, or think he loves Ferrin? I don't believe it. How could he... how could anyone, let alone Obi-Wan?

The door opens, and even without the Force, I can tell from the familiar rustle of tunics and from his distinctive step that it is Obi-Wan. He must know I'm awake, but he nears my side and lightly brushes an errant lock of hair off my face.

"Master... how do you feel?" he asks softly.

"Betrayed," I answer truthfully, opening my eyes in time to see a flash of pain on his face.

He doesn't respond directly, but says instead, "Let me help you up."

He releases the catches securing my bindings to the bed frame and pulls me to my feet. But then he fastens my manacles together in front of me.

As he finishes that task, he whispers to me, "Please don't try to escape by yourself. I'll have to bring you back if you do."

I'm not inclined to accommodate my former padawan at the moment, but I'm afraid I don't have much choice. If Obi-Wan wanted to stop me, he'd be perfectly capable of doing so.

From the condition of my body and the light outside, I must have been unconscious for more than a full day. "I have to use the fresher," I tell him.

He nods, and waves me to a doorway on the other side of the room. As I pass by the balcony, I notice a YT-13 model Corellian transport that has seen better days docked outside. It must be the ship that Rudd Ferrin 'captains'. They're tough little freighters, favored by smugglers when modified with extra shielding and armaments.

Obi-Wan allows me to use the barren fresher in private, but he doesn't disconnect the manacles, making things rather awkward for me. It's as if he's afraid I could actually overpower him.

There's no towel, and I emerge shaking the water off my bound hands.

I won't give Obi-Wan the satisfaction of demanding an explanation from him. Instead, I simply direct what I hope is a scalding look at him.

He gets the message, because he leans close and says quietly, "Master, you have to trust..."

Ferrin steps into the room.

"...in the Force," Obi-Wan finishes and I am certain that is not what he was going to say.

Ferrin laughs again. I'm glad he finds this so amusing.

"Oh, that is rich!" he exclaims. "Obi-Wan," he continues, "Where are your manners? Show our guest to a seat."

Obi-Wan ushers me to the only chair in the room, and Ferrin clips the bindings to the rungs.

"Comfy?" he directs to me, but without waiting for a reply he turns to Obi-Wan and asks, "And what about you, partner? You said you were feeling a little down in the mouth."

Now that he says it, I realize that Obi-Wan does indeed seem... off. Not sick or injured, but not his normal self either. It was hard to notice anything with my Force perception so damped.

Ferrin gestures to the bed and asks Obi-Wan, "Would you care for a little pick-me-up?"

Obi-Wan looks... aghast is the only word to describe it. His eyes dart back and forth between Ferrin's face and mine.

"Please, not here. Not now..." There is no suave Force compulsion in his voice. This is pure pleading. I can't understand why Obi-Wan doesn't just mind-whammy Ferrin. I would if I could.

"Oh, my dear partner," Ferrin remarks, unaffected, "I'd think you would want it now. Time is short and I'm a busy man. In fact, if you don't ask for it nicely right now, you won't get any at all."

Is Ferrin really saying what I think he's saying? Fat chance that a come-on like that would ever work with Obi-Wan!

I am shocked as Obi-Wan sidles up to Ferrin, strokes his chest and purrs, "Rudd, I'll do whatever you want, any way you want, but let's do it in private."

I feel nauseous.

Ferrin is still not swayed. "It's just the three of us here! And I'm sure Master Jinn would like a front-row seat. What's the matter? Would you rather have him? Maybe he was once your lover as well as your master."

Anger leads to hate and hate leads to the Dark Side. If only I weren't wearing this collar...

Obi-Wan looks at the floor. "You know that's not true," he says quietly.

"I know you were tight, but it's not like you had a hymen. Maybe Master Jinn just has a small dick."

Anger leads to hate and... oh, screw that! Obi-Wan saved himself for this piece of... this 'partner'?

Obi-Wan flushes deeply but, incredibly, doesn't answer back. His silence cuts me like his other betrayal.

Ferrin is relentless. "You think I didn't notice the way you carried him -- the way you looked at him?" he continues. "Call me insecure, but you'd better convince me your loyalty lies with me. Anyway, I meant what I said. It's now or never."

Did Ferrin really see something in Obi-Wan's manner? I'm sure he wouldn't be happy to find out what Obi-Wan did before drugging me.

Obi-Wan remains mute, continuing to stare at the floor and Ferrin pulls away from him. This time, Obi-Wan's silence ignites a spark of hope. Maybe Ferrin doesn't completely control him.

"I swear, Obi-Wan, if I leave this room, you'll be stranded high and dry. And we won't even need Jinn for the final proof -- he'll be expendable." So saying, he turns and walks towards the door.

Despite some dire consequence for Obi-Wan and an unmistakable threat to me, I wish to the Force that I could compel Obi-Wan to stand his ground.

But he calls out, "Wait... just... all right."

Ferrin turns around but he doesn't come any closer. "Not good enough, partner. You'll have to ask me nicely. Very nicely."

Obi-Wan swallows, casts a quick glance at me, but then visibly steels himself.

I don't think I want to see this.

Obi-Wan writhes a bit, stroking himself up and down the length of his torso. "Please, Rudd, do it. Come on, do it to me, please," he coaxes.

My stomach drops. He's debasing himself -- to Ferrin -- in front of me.

But Ferrin doesn't move. "Not very convincing. Maybe you'd better show me your ass. Leave the tunics on." He crosses his arms.

No. Obi-Wan... "Don't!" I only realize I spoke aloud when I see them both turn towards me.

"Do it," Ferrin says icily.

After a slight hesitation, Obi-Wan drops his leggings and steps out of them, then positions himself on the bed, doggy-style. He arches his back and wriggles his perfect derriere.

One of my private fantasies is being lived out before me, but not for me. My only solace is one glaring detail. Although I can see Obi-Wan is well endowed, he is completely flaccid. I know he doesn't want to do this. And maybe he didn't want to kidnap me, either -- but he did.

Ferrin still doesn't move. "Now talk to me. You know what I want." His right hand descends to his crotch and starts to rub a burgeoning swelling.

I will never be able to forget the words that then came out of Obi-Wan's mouth in his clear, cultured accent.

"Come on, Rudd, do it. Take me now. Fuck me. Fuck my hole. Stick your big cock in my ass and make me scream!"

This is a nightmare, not a fantasy.

Ferrin fairly leaps on the bed, pulling his engorged cock out of his fly, and positions the head at Obi-Wan's entrance. It isn't particularly large, but it's rigid and there's been no preparation.

Oh, dear ghods, no! I strain at my bindings. Even without the Force, I'm sure I could beat Ferrin to a pulp, especially right now. My effort has no effect, except to give him satisfaction.

He turns to me and says, "Eat your heart out, Jinn."

If I could, I would do just that. After I finished with his. Ferrin will suffer someday. Not because I believe in a higher form of justice -- I will see to it personally.

Ferrin clutches Obi-Wan's braid with one hand and his hip with the other. I literally stop breathing. I stare in horror as Ferrin starts to thrust violently. I can't see Obi-Wan's face, but his hands are fisted tightly in the sheets, knuckles pure white.

"Oh, Force!" he yells out.

"Fuck the Force!" Ferrin shouts in reply.

I come to my senses and close my eyes. But it's not as if I can't tell precisely what is happening just a few feet in front of my face.

At first it sounds like a struggle, with Ferrin shouting obscenities and Obi-Wan crying out.

Then it settles into a rhythmic slapping of flesh, punctuated by Ferrin's grunts and Obi-Wan's moans. I'm sure they are moans are of pain, not passion, but Ferrin clearly doesn't care. Or if he does, his preference is being served...

Maybe that's why Obi-Wan isn't releasing his pain. You'd think he couldn't access the Force.

The training bond is gone and Obi-Wan isn't my padawan any more. But even wearing the collar, I feel like my body is the one being abused. And despite what he's done to me, I wish I could take his pain away through my own.

I am forced to realize how much I still love him.

After a few minutes that seem like an eternity, Ferrin announces his climax in no uncertain terms. "Oh, fuck yes! I'm coming... I'm coming! Take it deep, you slut!"

Then I hear him shifting about and re-zipping his fly before he tells me in his usual sarcastic tone, "There's a lesson for you, Master Jinn. Always give your padawan what he needs."

His footsteps trail away.

The only remaining sound is that of Obi-Wan's staccato breaths, panting or sobbing, I'm not sure which. I crack open my eyes to see him lying flat now, his head buried in his arms, his tunics bunched up around his chest, and his legs splayed wide apart.

I can't stand it and I want to squeeze my eyes shut again, but I force them open wider.

Ferrin is gone, but Obi-Wan still hasn't pulled himself together. I don't understand what is happening. I don't know what will happen. But I know Obi-Wan can give me the answers.

"Obi-Wan?" I try calling him softly, so Ferrin won't overhear. No response. I try something else. "Padawan?"

This gets a response, but not the one I'd hoped for. He jumps off the bed, grabs his leggings, and runs from the room, slamming the door behind him.

Eyes open or shut, it doesn't matter. Open, I see the rumpled linens and the stained spot marking a precise location. Shut, and the only bit of reality impinging on my senses is a musky smell that I'd much rather not notice.

I knew, rationally, from their interaction in the diner, that something was going on between them. But I never expected to witness it first-hand. Even now, given the evidence of my senses, I can't believe what has happened.

And yet, Ferrin's threat made one thing clear.

Obi-Wan may have taken me hostage to protect Ferrin. But he suffered that abuse -- worse, that humiliation -- to somehow protect me. He must be more confused than I am.

Obi-Wan enters the room with a determined look on his face and closes the door quietly behind him. Hope flares in my breast as I see that expression, so familiar from his days as my padawan.

He holds a finger to his lips and my pulse races... I don't know why Obi-Wan took me here in the first place, but he has come now to release me! Thank the Force... in my heart I knew he would do what is right.

My confidence increases as Obi-Wan steps noiselessly over to me and whispers, "He's busy now, but I only have a few minutes. We have to be quiet."

I nod in agreement. He reaches over, but instead of releasing my collar or bindings, he unties my leggings!

I am so shocked that I don't stop him from shimmying them down past my thighs and dropping them to my ankles. Then he nudges my knees apart and he starts fondling my balls.

I'm not certain what I would do if I could make a move to stop him, but all I can do is gasp with surprise.

He shushes me with soft kisses and despite the these bizarre circumstances, or possibly because of them, I want him now with desperate urgency.

He hums in approval as I fill quickly and he starts stroking my length. We trade tongues, building the passion until he abruptly pulls his mouth from mine in order to envelop my erection.

His talent shreds my control, but he clasps one of his hands over my mouth and my moans are effectively muffled. As before, my hips thrust of their own accord, but bound and seated as I am, Obi-Wan remains in control of my movement.

This time I don't try to hold out and it's over almost before it began, my vision whiting out as Obi-Wan deep-throats my cock, swallowing in rhythm with the pulsing of my seed.

He carefully licks off all the evidence before pulling up my leggings as I lift my hips.

I don't know whether it is the afterglow or the confusion that is making me dizzy. "What..." I start to ask him, but he clamps his hand over my mouth again and looks at me with a pleading expression. I nod and he removes his hand.

Obi-Wan must have felt he needed to prove something to me after what I was forced to witness. I would rather he just explained things, but maybe he thought actions speak louder than words.

He reties my leggings snugly and straightens my tunics, as if he were a crechemaster readying a toddler for his first combat drill.

Then he plants one final, silent kiss on my lips, leaving the taste of myself behind, and he withdraws as noiselessly as he came, pulling the door shut behind him.

Not much time passes before the door opens again and they both enter. Ferrin looks much as he always does; Obi-Wan looks even more shuttered than he did earlier.

"We've come to invite you to latemeal, Master Jinn," Ferrin -- of course -- pronounces. "I'm sure you're hungry by now and I have certainly worked up an appetite."

Ferrin proves that it is possible to leer and sneer at the same time. It is probably for the best that I don't have access to the Force at this moment.

They unclip my bindings from the chair, and Obi-Wan re-fastens my manacles together.

They lead me to a small dining area, with Obi-Wan maintaining a grip on one of my arms. I'm not sure if it's to guarantee that I won't try to make a break for it, or whether he wants to protect me from stumbling.

Once again, I am seated but this time only the leg cuffs are reattached carefully to the chair. Really, all these precautions seem ridiculous. Obi-Wan could crush the breath from my body without bestirring himself if he so chose.

Obi-Wan serves me a bowl of bifka stew and a large tumbler of water. Wordlessly I lift my attached hands, but he shakes his head. I guess I'll have to manage.

I can't deny that I am thirsty, and I finish off half the tumbler without pausing. My stomach rebels at the thought of eating anything, but I must force myself.

Once I start eating, the food slides down easily, and before I know it both the bowl and the tumbler are empty.

Ferrin, also finished, ends the reprieve I've had from his taunting. "Obi-Wan's a fine cook, isn't he? Of course, you knew that."

Unasked, Obi-Wan clears the table while Ferrin disappears into another room and returns with an injector.

"And now, for dessert... or perhaps I should say, 'just desserts'," Ferrin announces. "This is for you," he says to me holding the injector aloft, "but it's your treat to give it to him," he continues, turning to Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan looks at me and doesn't take it.

What could be in an injector that would give Obi-Wan pause after he was willing to kidnap me? Poison? Why go through the bother?

"What's the matter, partner?" Ferrin goads him. "I thought you'd jump at this chance for a little payback. He's responsible for your failure, isn't he?"

Obi-Wan turns his eyes to Ferrin. "You don't understand, Rudd. You couldn't understand. It wasn't him, really; it was the Council. And even if it was his fault, he was my master... he raised me."

"Oh, how sweet!" Ferrin scowls darkly, belying his words.

This could be the opening I need. It certainly looks like the only one I'll get.

"Obi-Wan, listen to me," I plead. "It's not too late. Break with Ferrin now and I'll protect you!"

"Oh, are you afraid of this, Master Jinn?" Rudd asks. "This won't harm you at all. In fact, it will help clear up that infection you've had since you were born."

At first I am baffled by this statement but then my blood nearly freezes as everything clicks into place -- the injector contains something that kills off midichlorians!

Ferrin had told me that he had intended to use the collar on an AgriCorps worker. They must have planned on capturing Davin, but I would do nicely.

And as I think of the plague currently sweeping through the bifka, the enormity of their hidden agenda strikes me like a blow to the stomach.

The real target must be the Order itself... a plague released at the Temple! Many Jedi would be away on missions, but the whole Council and the entire next generation of initiates would be struck Force-blind -- as would many of the active knights, masters, and padawans.

"But why?" I cry out aloud.

"For the best reason of all, Master Jinn -- money," he answers. "But I must say I've truly enjoyed this job. Having Obi-Wan as a partner has been very... rewarding."

Someone is paying Ferrin and Obi-Wan to do this. Who would be willing to fund the destruction of the Order? How could Obi-Wan agree to it... does he resent the Council that much?

Turning back to Obi-Wan, Ferrin continues, "Well, if you won't do it, the pleasure will be mine, but you're missing out."

"Obi-Wan! Stop him... you can't let this happen! You are Light... you are a true Jedi in spirit. We can still be together!" Maybe I'm babbling, but I don't have much time to try to push the right button.

Mercifully, I seem to have found it. Obi-Wan intercepts Ferrin and firmly takes the injector from him.

The fate of the galaxy hangs on Obi-Wan's next words. "You're right," he says. I'm ready to burst into song, but the next second it's clear he's speaking to Ferrin. "I should be the one to do it."

And in a flash, he bends over me and whispers, "May the Force be with you," as he presses the injector to my neck.

They've reattached my bindings to the bed frame, as if I could possibly sleep.

Even with the collar on, I can already feel a difference. The collar muffles and warps my sense of the Force the way clouds obscure the sun. But now the sun itself is slowly being extinguished and my world is growing dark.

As a Jedi, I learned early on to accept the fact that I was mortal and would die someday -- very possibly while I was still young. Being Jedi made that relatively easy -- not because we are taught serenity -- but because the Force is so tangible to us. And many claim to have felt the presence of loved ones who had joined the Force.

But I never expected to face a Force-blind existence. I've had my Force connection impaired from sickness, exhaustion, and injury. I've even been collared during the special training exercises all senior padawans go through. But all those times, the Force was still with me and I knew my condition was temporary.

Like so many other improbable things that have been happening recently, the possibility simply hadn't ever occurred to me. But if I had been given the choice between Force sensitivity and sight, I wouldn't have hesitated a second. I would have put my own eyes out.

With the collar on, I can't release my emotions to the Force, even as it slips away from me. But my anxiety over my own fate is shouldered aside when I consider the fate of other Jedi.

Imagine all the initiates, having seen the beauty of the Force, unable to learn the joy of living in commune with it. But perhaps they are the lucky ones, by comparison. What of those, like me, whose very identity is wrapped up in the Force? What would become of my own nine hundred year old master, if he were truly as frail as he appears?

We would have no more access to the Force than the bulk of the sentient population of the galaxy. We would be no different from them. We would be them.

We couldn't continue to be Jedi, or even remain at the Temple. After the plague, there would be an extremely limited need for research assistants and archivists to aid those remaining Jedi. We would have to scatter to live our new lives -- those who wish to go on at any rate -- with whatever jobs we could find, maybe using our old connections.

I have never given it any thought before, but what happens when the Force-blind join the Force? Do they suddenly understand what they've missed during their lifetimes or do they unknowingly merge their own trickle in with the rest of the great flow?

Perhaps I never truly came to grips with my mortality, after all. But even total annihilation would be preferable to living in a universe in which Obi-Wan has betrayed me.

Was it truly less than a year ago that I looked forward to his Trials, to the day he'd be knighted and we'd finally be peers, united, serving the Order together? The laugh that escapes my lips has a distinct edge to it.

If I weren't already feeling the effects of the disease, I wouldn't believe Obi-Wan had really done this to me. How could he? And not just me, but soon to many of the Jedi he grew up with.

I've always done my best to serve the Force, and through it, the Order, but ultimately I am the one responsible for this disaster. Obi-Wan is the product of my training. A lifetime of dedication cannot compensate for this debt. How could things have gone so horribly wrong?

Did Obi-Wan need more guidance? He always seemed to find his own way in the Light. Maybe I left him too much on his own. Does it matter? It's too late to fix things now.

A crushing weight of guilt compresses my chest, making it hard to breathe.

Ghods! How could I have managed to take a child like Obi-Wan, grounded in the Light, and mold him into the kind of man that would do this? What is it about me? Am I a tool, used by the Force in some cosmic game of strategic balance? Or did the Dark Side lodge deeply somewhere in my heart, leaking out to taint those I touch?

Teetering on a cliff of despair, I am ready to tumble off the edge, but I pull myself abruptly away. As the only Jedi aware of this threat, it is my duty to find some way to avert it.

I recall Obi-Wan's reluctance to inject me and his words as he performed the deed. He could have meant them sarcastically, but it sounded more like a benediction. Despite what he's done, he must still care for me. That won't save me; my connection to the Force is fading away even now. But maybe I can use his love to rescue his soul and the Order as well.

I know there is good in him; it hasn't been driven from him fully. I need to reach it before we are all destroyed.

At this point, Obi-Wan enters the room and comes to my bedside with a brisk stride. He places a palm on my forehead and utters the word 'Sleep'.

I've given up telling myself I have to eat. My plate remains untouched.

Will I always feel this terrifyingly empty? When I woke up Force-blind, it was as if I'd lived my entire life up to that point in a dream.

The Force -- gone completely... even after Obi-Wan removed the collar. It's almost hard to believe it was ever there. I realize now why there are so many skeptics, how difficult it must for those without access to the Force to imagine it -- like the blind trying to envision sight.

What if everyone went Force-blind -- if all the midichlorians died off? Soon no one would believe in the Force at all, except perhaps followers of a cult religion. Some people already think of the Jedi that way.

And maybe the nonbelievers would be right... if no one could access the Force, would it still be there? Would it matter if it were?

With that dismal thought, I drop my head into my still-bound hands, and I let out a soft groan as the movement brings home my current reality. My consciousness is constrained by the limits of my own body; at my age, I'm feeling those limits. Stripped of the Force, sleeping while bound has left me sore all over.

My vocalization prompts Ferrin. "I'm sorry to hear you're not feeling so well, Master Jinn," he says, then turns to Obi-Wan. "But you're looking chipper, partner. No ill effects this time?"

"No," Obi-Wan admits. "This time the vaccine worked."

"Quite a shame from my point of view, really. I did so enjoy helping you out again when the last one failed -- with an audience, even! But our employers will be so pleased this last batch worked."

As my mind is working furiously to understand what is really being said here, Ferrin turns to me.

"You should eat up, Master Jinn," he urges in a falsely solicitous tone. "You need to eat to regain your strength, and I'm afraid you won't be able to enjoy Obi-Wan's cooking for much longer."

He laughs to himself, then turns his attention back to his own meal.

Obi-Wan suddenly cocks his head. I listen to hear any sound that might have caught his ear, but I know that even if Obi-Wan heard an actual noise, it may be well below my threshold of hearing without the Force.

Obi-Wan looks to the double transparisteel door and my eyes follow his while Ferrin continues to eat.

After a few moments of this tableau, I hear the rumble of a small starship descending vertically through the atmosphere to a location that must be very near here.

"Oh, Sith!" Obi-Wan exclaims, banging his fist on the table.

"Well, it's just the Sith apprentice; the master is staying at home. It's about time he arrived," Ferrin says smugly.

Sith? Force! No wonder they want the Order destroyed. I didn't know they existed these days outside of nightmares, but it doesn't sound like he's joking. Obi-Wan would never consent to work for Sith... would he? He has done a lot of things I'd never dream possible.

I don't know which of us -- Obi-Wan or I -- is more surprised. Our attention rivets on Ferrin.

"You should thank me, partner. I've saved us a trip to Coruscant. I'm sure that place has such painful memories for you that you'd rather avoid it," he says.

"What have you done?" Obi-Wan asks, with something akin to panic in his voice.

"I just arranged a pick up. I'm glad this second batch of vaccine worked; we won't have to keep him waiting. The apprentice will take the plague and vaccine and escort Master Jinn to his master at the same time."

"What do you mean? Won't he need to see me too?"

"Oh, no; it's all set. He was ever so pleased when I told him he could have Master Jinn as proof that the plague worked. He said his apprentice could give you the once-over himself to make sure the vaccine was effective."

Obi-Wan looks aghast.

"What's the matter? Were you looking forward to meeting our employer? Well, I'm sorry, but I guess he has no further use for you now." So saying, he stands and leaves the room.

The rumbling grows to the roar of anti-grav engines on full power, and a sleek little Numerian star hopper sets down neatly next to the Corellian freighter.

Ferrin returns holding two large vials, one stoppered with a red top, the other with green. He comes over to me and unclips my leg bindings from the chair.

"You'll want to come greet our junior patron properly," he tells me, leading me to the door.

The hatch on the star hopper opens and despite all that has just been said, I am still taken aback.

I'm almost surprised that the approaching figure has never played a starring role in any of my bad dreams. Prescience aside, he is so clearly the stuff of which nightmares are made.

Enrobed in black, only his face is visible, but that is enough. A geometric pattern of red and black surrounds the lurid amber eyes glaring in our direction. As he nears us, a puff of wind blows his hood off and I see he is sporting a crown of horns, adding to his demonic appearance.

And once again, as in the case of Rudd Ferrin, I am afraid that appearances are not likely to be deceiving.

As he approaches our shelter, he makes a small gesture with one hand and the doors slide apart. We all fall back a bit to allow him to enter.

He offers no greeting, but glances at the vials in Ferrin's hands and gives me a piercing look; even though I am Force-blind I feel a chill run down my spine. I can easily believe that he is a Sith, or perhaps something even more evil.

I am quickly dismissed from his notice, but he examines Obi-Wan at length with detached coolness. Obi-Wan looks tense, like he is suffering from a severe headache, but he returns the gaze steadily.

The newcomer then regards Ferrin. "The vaccine was tested on him?" he asks, gesturing to Obi-Wan.

"Yes, the second trial was successful. He didn't succumb last night."

"Good," he says briefly. "I see all is prepared."

When he speaks, he exposes rows of teeth worthy of the most vicious predator. His voice is deep, resonant with power, either in the flesh or in the Force.

"Right, then," says Ferrin. "Now it's a simple matter of payment."

"Ah, yes, your payment. Before you get that, I have a few things to tell you. First, did you know your partner is a traitor?"

"What?" Ferrin blurts out at the same time Obi-Wan exclaims, "No!"

I am gripped by joy and terror in the same breath. A traitor... of course! I should have realized it. I knew Obi-Wan would be guided by the Light. But now his life is in grave danger.

The Sith continues, "He's been using you. Did you really think he would stay loyal to you when he encountered someone with true power?

Ferrin scowls at Obi-Wan, and Obi-Wan hastens to explain, "It's not like that! Yes, I tried to interest his master in me. But I did it for both of us!"

My hope for Obi-Wan's redemption is extinguished. My Obi-Wan, who once seemed almost saintly, has not only turned, but he has sought out a Sith Lord for a master.

The Sith's laugh is more musical than I would expect, but the piece being played is a dirge.

"My master only needs one apprentice," he explains, "and he already has me. I am here to settle things up for him." He turns to Ferrin. "As to the other thing you must be told, it is that you are a fool."

"What do you mean?" Ferrin asks, his face hardening.

"Did you think no one would discover your attempt to profit on the side? Your foolishness endangers our secrecy. My master is most displeased. Here is your payment."

There is a motion faster than my eye can follow and when it is over, Ferrin's feet are not touching the ground. The Sith appears to be supporting Ferrin's weight on the hilt of a light staff, but he is probably using the Force. The hilt is too high -- right at heart level -- to provide balance.

Ferrin's face spasms with fear. "Wait! Don't... " he shouts out.

"Your contract is now terminated," the Sith cuts him off as he ignites the brilliant blood-red blades.

I have seen many people die and always I have felt some sense of loss. This time, I do not, and I believe my lack of reaction is not entirely due to having been struck Force-blind.

The Sith flicks his wrist and Ferrin's body falls into a pile, the vials skittering across the floor. He turns to Obi-Wan.

"And now for your payment," he says. "It is a chance at what you want. If you destroy me and return in my stead, my master would be most willing to consider your offer. But if I destroy you, the score is settled."

This will be a slaughter. The Sith can draw on the Dark Side. Even if Obi-Wan is willing to do so, he has no experience at it. And Obi-Wan isn't armed, not even with his blaster.

I try to tell myself this is for the best; it will be over quickly; it shouldn't matter to me that he will be killed; he has betrayed me and my teachings. But I can't hear myself over the pounding of my heart.

This portion of the shelter is open, containing areas for cooking, eating, and relaxing without any walls. There is nothing Obi-Wan can use for cover and no place to hide. If this were a sparring session, I'm sure Obi-Wan would be pleased by the generous allotment of space.

They both begin circling around some invisible axis. After a few rounds of sizing each other up, the Sith raises a hand and my heart stops when I see Obi-Wan teeter from a Force shove as the Sith lunges at him simultaneously.

In that instant, I thought Obi-Wan would be run through. I'm terrified at the thought that, blinded as I am, I will lose him completely. I won't even sense his presence in the Force. Despite everything, I know that I still love him.

But even off-balance, Obi-Wan is able to deftly leap out of the way, flipping over the Sith's head. If he had been armed with his lightsaber, the Sith would have been vulnerable at that moment. At least I was right about his skills.

The Sith spins to face Obi-Wan again and laughs. "Good," he says, nodding. "I had hoped you would provide me with a workout."

There is nothing I can do to save him. But maybe Obi-Wan can redeem himself through me, if he can keep the Sith distracted long enough.

The two spacecraft waiting outside are tempting, but I know that I would never make it that far. I can't escape. But maybe I can destroy the vial of plague and at least buy the Order some time to discover the scheme. If only I knew which one it was.

Obi-Wan remains on the alert as they begin circling again. My muscles are tense, willing to spring into the fight. I focus instead on my goal. The combatants both ignore me as I step over Ferrin's body, making my way towards the vial with the red stopper.

This time the Sith uses the Force to propel a plate at Obi-Wan. I flinch but he dodges it in stride. Then the Sith tries something larger, a light chair, and instead of ducking, Obi-Wan intercepts it with a small end table, splintering them both into a pile of rubble. This signals the start of a contest, as anything handy suddenly becomes a missile.

Objects are flying from all points in the room to the nexus of the battle. It's impossible to tell who is summoning what, but the projectiles are colliding with each other or being dodged, as both men leap about in breathtaking aerial maneuvers.

I want to follow the movements of the battle, but I use the time to reach my objective and scoop up the vial in my bound hands. The stopper is sealed so I can't easily just pour out the contents. I'll have to break it.

These clearplas vials aren't fragile, but even without the Force, I'm sure I have enough strength to shatter one on the tabletop.

I have to hurry. Obi-Wan must dodge the lightstaff as well as the objects being hurled at him. His disadvantage is starting to tell, and some of the flying debris has tagged him. I must let him go -- I must! -- but maybe his death won't be in vain.

Stepping over to the table, I raise my arms, but a voice yells out "Stop!"

Everything stills as we all turn to the doorway, where Davin is standing. He is dressed in what must be one of my spare outfits and he is holding my lit lightsaber aloft at an odd angle.

It might have been funny if Davin hadn't just signed his own death warrant. His outfit could have fooled Ferrin, but even Force-blind I can see that Davin has no more idea what to do with a lightsaber than the youngest initiate.

The Sith certainly finds it amusing and he lets out a raucous laugh. Then he makes a very slight hand motion and my lightsaber flies from Davin's grasp, still lit, hits the floor, and rolls to a halt against the far wall.

He takes a step towards Davin and I act out of instinct. "Wait! This is the plague!" I shout out, waving the vial about in my raised hands. "If you attack him I'll smash it. Even if your master can get another, you will be exposed to it now!"

I shouldn't have done that. As much as I want to save Davin, the future of the Order is at stake. I should have taken my one chance to shatter the vial.

The Sith slowly turns towards me, and without access to the Force, I know I have no defense. It may be too late already, but it is now or never.

"Run!" I yell to Davin as I start to bring the vial down.

The Sith reaches out towards me and everything goes black.

"Wake up!"

The voice is Obi-Wan's, but the tone is icy, as I've never heard it before.

I open my eyes. Obi-Wan is standing next to me, wearing his robe over his tunics. Open, it doesn't hide the fact that he is wearing my lightsaber attached to his belt.

I realize I'm lying on the berth of a stationary ship, but I'm fully clothed, including my own robe. I'm still wearing my bindings, though they aren't attached to the berth, and my manacles aren't fastened together.

My head feels like it is splitting but my mind races back to the last thing I remember and I blurt out, "Davin! Where is he?"

"I killed him," Obi-Wan replies without emotion. "After I killed the Sith apprentice. Thank you for the distraction."

All traces of my Obi-Wan are gone from his new tone of voice, except the accent, which gilds his speech with a beautiful but chilling veneer of civility.

The part of Obi-Wan that used to reach out to me has died. What is left is the kind of man that could slaughter an unarmed AgriCorps worker -- a master in his own right and my friend. The bile rises in my throat.

It is my duty to kill Obi-Wan now, if I get the opportunity, unlikely as that is. Given what he's become, I would do it. But what happened... why did he completely snap?

I can't understand it. The foundation of my universe is rocked, and my body is trembling with the aftershock. He really has turned... killed Davin... aligned himself with the Sith Lord... is going to destroy the Order. It's too much for me to absorb. My head is spinning and I want to shut everything out.

Looking into my face, Obi-Wan continues, "Now, don't go into shock. You've got to get up so we can greet my master-to-be."

His hand clamps on my arm and with a bit of Force he yanks me to my feet. He pulls me out of the sleeping quarters and down a short corridor towards the hatch. I realize from the ship's configuration that we are in the Numerian star hopper. We must have made the trip home to Coruscant in it.

Instead of leaving the ship, he stops, braking my motion as well, a few paces short of the exit.

Ghods... this is it! We must be waiting for the Sith Lord to arrive. Obi-Wan will turn over the plague, the vaccine, and me, and be accepted as his new apprentice. Even though I know it is futile, I still have to try to salvage the situation.

"Obi-Wan... this isn't what you want. Turn back to the Light now and I'll do anything for you."

"You've already done more than enough," he responds coldly. "It's because of you that Rudd is dead now."

Is that what did it? Did that complete his transformation? What did Obi-Wan ever see in him? What is 'love' that someone like my Obi-Wan -- my beautiful, precious, talented Obi-Wan -- could feel it for someone like Ferrin, a man so utterly devoid of any redeeming qualities? If I live to be a hundred -- not at all likely at the moment -- I'll never understand.

But I do understand the power of love. It kept my hope alive through everything Obi-Wan did to me. I thought he loved me too, but I must have been mistaken. No! He did; I know he did -- but that emotion of his was extinguished along with Rudd Ferrin.

Before I can marshal another argument, my mind recoils from the incorporeal touch of clammy, probing tentacles sifting through my thoughts. I can't shut them out; they worm their way in, teasing out my feelings for Obi-Wan -- both the love, tenderness, and pride I once felt as well as my horror, revulsion, and despair at his betrayal. He kidnapped me, struck me Force-blind, killed my friend, and brought me here as a sacrifice to the Dark Side. And he doesn't love me any more.

The emotions are torture in themselves, but having them stretched out on display is nearly more than I can bear. Sickeningly, echoes of pleasure and delight wash over me as the entity behind these projections feeds on these feelings, greedily relishing them. In that moment, I understand true evil. The apprentice Obi-Wan killed still had much to learn. This is Darkness personified.

The intrusion withdraws slowly, lingering, like a putrid caress. When I become aware of my surroundings again, I see Obi-Wan staring at me intently, but otherwise unaffected. I am wrung out -- trembling and so exhausted that it is only some deep-rooted sense of dignity that keeps me standing to meet my fate.

The next moment, the hatch slides open, and the figure outlined there would strike fear in my heart if it weren't already filled with dread. He is not so imposing -- the all-encompassing robe with its deep cowl conceals his face and physique completely. But I recognize him as the Dark One of my dream.

That dream must have been a true vision. But what good could it possibly do me? Obi-Wan has already chosen the more horrific of the two doomed paths.

The Sith Lord enters and the door slides noiselessly shut behind him. In fact, a hush falls over the ship as the routine mechanical hums and clicks that any ship makes, even docked, suddenly cease. The chill that runs down my spine is almost enough to topple me to the floor.

I desperately try to latch onto an idea of anything I can do to avert the coming catastrophe. The only thing I can think of is to smash the vials and expose the Sith to the plague, as I threatened his apprentice. I know my chances of success are nil, but it's not as if I have anything to lose.

"I bid you welcome, my lord," Obi-Wan breaks the thick silence. "I have exactly what you want," he adds, pulling the two vials from his robe with one hand and gesturing to me with the other.

"Good. You have -- " the Sith Lord starts to say.

He is in mid-sentence as I lunge for the vials. I hope that by acting so quickly, I might surprise them both. Whatever chance I thought I might have was purely imaginary.

The Sith raises one of his hands slightly, and I am suspended in mid-air, paralyzed completely, sharp pains shooting through every part of my body. I would cry out, but my throat is also affected. The screams are loud only inside my head.

Lurid chuckling bubbles out of the Sith Lord as my unshielded mind is torn open and frigid fingers of thought scoop out my pain, leaving total agony in their wake.

Time twists around my torment, drawing it out indefinitely. I am grateful when I'm certain my body can't take any more, that I will wake from this nightmare called reality, but the Sith drops his hand and I drop similarly, into a heap.

"He is obstinate," he notes.

"Indeed, my lord," Obi-Wan agrees.

"You have done well," the Sith Lord concludes. "I am pleased."

"Thank you, my lord."

"You have tested the vaccine on yourself?"

"Yes, my lord," Obi-Wan verifies. "Shall I prepare an injector for you?"

"Very well. Let us waste no time."

I hear Obi-Wan fidgeting with something, but I am in no condition even to look up. I don't know whether Obi-Wan performs the task of injecting the vaccine or whether the Sith Lord does it himself, but when I hear the slight hiss, I know the Order's last chance is lost.

"Now," the Sith Lord continues, "fulfill your destiny; destroy your master!"

"My lord, grant me the boon to destroy him completely," Obi-Wan replies. "He rejected me as a child. He failed to train me properly as my master. He is responsible for the death of my lover. If I kill him now, I will end his suffering prematurely. I wish him to witness the destruction of his precious Jedi Order."

"Good... good!" The Sith Lord's pause is broken by his obscene chuckle. "Your hate will make you powerful. It will indeed be a pleasure to train you, even more than I had imagined. Take him with you; make him witness first-hand the fall of everything he holds dear before killing him. Then return to me and take your place by my side.

"As you wish, my lord," Obi-Wan replies.

A steely grip on my arm hauls me to my feet. I am still unstable, so Obi-Wan Force-marches me out of the hatch and into a busy docking bay where he pushes me into a two-seater and we take off into the late night Coruscant air traffic.

Sprawled in the passenger seat, some of my strength returns, but I can't clear my head. The thought tendrils of the Sith Lord have insinuated themselves into my mind, but they remain at the surface for the time being.

He called me obstinate; he was right. While there is still breath in my body, I have to fight on. I truly have no hope that I can affect the outcome, but I have to act as if I did. Perhaps now that Obi-Wan has experienced the Sith Lord, he has second thoughts about his destiny. Maybe there is still some remnant of my Obi-Wan, deeply buried, that I can yet reach.

"Please, don't do this, Obi-Wan. Don't destroy everything; don't destroy yourself." I try to project with my voice how much I long to save him.

Half-turning towards me, he grins one-sidedly, a mockery of the impish expression that sometimes peeked out when he was my padawan.

"It is too late. I am become Sith, destroyer of worlds," he intones. Even the half grin then disappears. "I have no regrets."

I am appalled by his response, and a repugnant writhing in my brain transmits the resulting amusement of the Sith Lord.

Obi-Wan waves his hand and suddenly I can't speak. There is a firm pressure on my throat, not the sharp pain used on me by the master, but effective nonetheless. We are silent during the rest of the ride to the Temple, him by choice, me of necessity.

He continues to apply the gag as we make our way through the Temple, hoods raised, with him Force-marching me ahead of him in the ultimate parody of a loyal padawan following his master.

I cling to the hope that we will encounter some Jedi who will recognize my distress and come to my aid, and their own, unknowingly. But it is late and Obi-Wan steers me quickly to the obscure sublevel corridors.

He unerringly guides us to the deserted mechanicals room. He must have spent time studying the Temple schematics at some point -- perhaps while I was unconscious -- or earlier, at any point since he signed on for this job.

He removes a canister and the vial with the red stopper from his robe. So I had guessed right -- not that it did me any good. After breaking the seal, he pours about half the clear liquid into the canister, then fiddles with it until a light mist starts spraying out of a nozzle with a hissing sound. Then he opens an access panel in the main air duct, places the canister inside, and snaps the panel shut. The seal doesn't completely muffle the susurration.

I can't believe that this is actually happening -- that this apparently innocuous sound will bring the Order to its knees, not with a bang, but with a whisper.

Now I realize the whole point of the plague on Targon III -- all those bifka lost and a major food supply disrupted, so that Ferrin and Obi-Wan could test how best to disseminate this midichlorian disease. The plague also drew into their reach an AgriCorps worker that they could deliver, Force-blinded, to the Sith. My showing up was just a piece of luck for them. Well, not for Ferrin... I suppose some good did come out of my mission after all.

But that doesn't matter. Being forced to watch Obi-Wan be abused by that man doesn't compare to enduring the sight of Obi-Wan destroying the Order and his own soul.

Even the actions of Xanatos are meaningless by comparison. Obi-Wan was once Light. He was the bright beacon that led me out of my black despair, the spark that rekindled my love. Now Obi-Wan has not only turned to the Dark; he has become it.

I look towards him and our eyes meet. His are completely expressionless. That is the final trigger. How can he stand there, unaffected? If I could scream, I would rage. If I could move, I would throw myself on him, pummel him, scratch at his face -- anything to get a reaction. But I am held motionless. Without any physical release, my awareness threatens to explode like a supernova then collapse into its own black hole.

Ironically, it is the Sith Lord that brings me back from the brink of insanity. He is gorging greedily on my emotions. His satisfaction spilling back to me salvages my last scrap of resistance. I may not be able to change what happens, but I can stop pleasuring him.

The thought that surely things are nearly over now allows me to pull myself together. I can only hope that after death there is no conscious existence. When Obi-Wan kills me, I will welcome sweet oblivion.

He may be as eager as I am to take the final step. Once again he starts propelling me through the sublevels, using a serpentine route. These corridors are even more stark and utilitarian than the ones in the main part of the Temple. I am hopelessly lost in my own home without the Force to guide me.

When we emerge from below, I discover that we are in the meditation wing. There are several special shielded rooms here, usually used by Jedi with less than perfect shielding of their own to regain their serenity after traumatic missions.

So this is where Obi-Wan will kill me -- a good choice. None of my Jedi brethren will be alerted when I pass into the Force.

Obi-Wan takes us to the furthest one, flips the marker on the room to "Occupied" and hustles me inside with him. Then he shuts the door behind him and activates the shielding.

I suddenly realize that I have been granted one blessing. The Sith Lord's presence is completely snuffed out. Obi-Wan can effectively shield my death, but that will deny his new master the experience. Soon now, it will be over. I crack a small, satisfied smile.

Obi-Wan turns round to face me. I expect him to reach for my lightsaber at his belt, but instead he releases the gag pressure, throws himself into my arms, and yells, "Force, Master, I love you!"

He thinks that? I am shocked to the core. But Obi-Wan's notion of love must be very different from mine. He couldn't truly love me and still do what he has done. It may be the same emotion he felt for Rudd Ferrin, but it isn't love.

Whatever it is, he managed to hide it from the Sith Lord. But I can't see how that accomplishment matters. If he intends to spare my life, I won't be grateful.

I don't think he will have the choice anyway. If he leaves me bound here, it will be a death sentence. With the chaos that is about to break out in the Temple, it will probably be weeks before someone finds me, or rather my body, in this room. Without access to the Force, no one will need to use it.

Obi-Wan is holding me tightly, stroking my back, and nuzzling his face into my tunics. But I am now repelled by the idea that this man thinks he loves me.

My Obi-Wan -- the Obi-Wan I loved -- is dead. This Obi-Wan will return to his new master, and wreak Force-knows-what damage on the remaining Jedi and the rest of the galaxy.

He tries to kiss me, but my mouth remains firm. I wonder if he's going to try to suck me off again. Maybe he has some odd fixation.

He tries to woo me by crooning, "It's all right, my master. It will be all right."

I start as I recognize an echo of the words I used on him only a few days ago. They weren't accurate then, either.

I remain silent, despite the release of my gag; I simply have nothing to say.

He tries again. "Master, please, believe me!"

I am empty inside, but I'll make one final effort to salvage something of this situation. "Obi-Wan, maybe it's not too late. If we alert the Council now, they can evacuate the Temple, and some of the Jedi here could be saved." Who knew the emergency drill they practiced in my absence would be of any use? Well, perhaps someone with prescience.

"No!" he exclaims, sounding exasperated. He puts his hand on my forehead. "Here; this will be simpler."

"Run!" I yell to Davin as I start to bring the vial down.

The Sith reaches out towards me and calls the vial using the Force. Reacting quickly, Davin redirects it to his own hand. The Sith, realizing he holds only air, swings his staff at Davin, who now has no weapon to block the strike.

What happened next was so fast that it was only after the fact that I could make it out. Davin dexterously leapt out of the way of the first blade, but was then butted back up against the wall. The Sith continued his motion, in order to hit him with the other end of the staff.

While the Sith was engaged in this maneuver, Obi-Wan took flight from his position in the middle of the room, calling my still-lit saber to hand. Overhead, he slashed down from above, like an avenging angel, severing the Sith's head and weapon arm from the rest of his body in a single stroke, foiling the Sith's aim and killing him at once.

He did it. Unbelievable! He killed a Sith...

Obi-Wan lands in front of Davin, his legs straddling the body. Davin still has no room to dodge. I don't breathe; I almost can't watch.

I am certainly unprepared for them both to blurt out, "Thank you!" and hug each other warmly, Obi-Wan carefully averting the blade of my saber.

The two men break apart and turn in my direction, as Obi-Wan extinguishes the lightsaber.

"Master!" Obi-Wan cries out, running towards me as Davin exclaims, "Qui-Gon! Thank the Force you're safe!"

Then Obi-Wan is in my arms and kissing me enthusiastically. After a moment, Davin joins us, embracing us both.

I'm nearly overwhelmed and hopelessly confused. Obi-Wan seemed completely under Ferrin's spell, but now he's not the least bit upset at his death. He was perfectly willing to kidnap me and wipe out my midichlorians, but he welcomed Davin who came to rescue me. And how could he do all this to me anyway, when he can't keep his hands, or mouth, off me?

That mouth seems preoccupied on my neck at the moment, so I ask Davin, "Can you explain this?"

"I'll tell you what I know," he says. "Obi-Wan contacted me yesterday. It was his plan for me to use your outfit and lightsaber to impersonate a master and rescue you. We were only supposed to have to fool Rudd Ferrin."

Obi-Wan pulls away and tells Davin, "I'm sorry; I didn't know the Sith would be here."

So, Obi-Wan couldn't bring himself to surrender me to the Sith. Well, I wish he could have arranged my rescue before he injected me! And I'm still not sure what his plans are for that vial of plague.

I may be Force-blind, but Obi-Wan and Davin aren't.

"Oh, as to your condition," Davin addresses one of my concerns, "Obi-Wan gave me... something to re-host your midichlorians."

I will be re-united with the Force? Obi-Wan planned for that? I am ecstatic, but unaccountably, both men are blushing to the roots and I'm still lost.

"They can be re-hosted? When did you get them?" Did Obi-Wan take a blood sample from me when he knocked me out? Would the midichlorians still be viable?

They flush even more deeply.

"I think I'll let Obi-Wan account for that," Davin says, heading off to wander aimlessly around the wreckage-strewn space.

Obi-Wan is still clasping me, but his eyes dart about, landing several places other than my face, as he talks. "Early on, the bioengineer developing the plague discovered that midichlorians are transferred in ejaculate. In sperm samples they last about a day."

Now I understand the embarrassment. But, Obi-Wan never had a sample of my sperm... he swallowed it.

As if following my thoughts, Obi-Wan continues, "And if that sperm is... ingested or... inserted into another living being, they migrate into that host. They don't thrive or proliferate in a non-native host, but they can last up to a week. And some of them will be transferred in the new host's sperm."

Now I understand -- Obi-Wan has some of my midichlorians in him... and he can give them back to me! Obi-Wan didn't give Davin a sperm sample of mine; it was one of his own.

What a rigamarole just to fool Ferrin! And why bother to fool him? Why not just mind-whammy him? And why be involved with Ferrin in the first place? I sum up these questions with just "Why?"

Obi-Wan sighs deeply. "Let me explain from the beginning. You know about the real danger... the midichlorian plague. The Council had heard rumors that someone was looking for recruits to test something dangerous to Jedi. I guess people willing to undertake something like that are hard to come by. So, I was set up as a recruit by appearing to fail my Trials."

"There was no Test of Loyalty?" I interject.

"There is. This is it. The Council didn't lie when they said I hadn't passed. Yet, at any rate."

Oh, Force! Does this mean what I think it meant? I grab Obi-Wan's hands and squeeze them. After all this, Obi-Wan would become a Jedi knight. And, at this very moment, I really am still Obi-Wan's master!

But Obi-Wan looks grim. "In the end, the Sith paired Ferrin and me. Me because they thought I wanted revenge. And Ferrin because he was an U'tarri -- not Force sensitive at all, but innately resistant to Force compulsions. So that's the reason they must have chosen him -- to keep an eye on me. Ferrin didn't even really believe in the Force, so he was willing to take the job."

"But why didn't you prove it to him?" I ask, still mired in the confusion.

"I didn't want to scare him off. We needed to get through the testing phase so I could meet with the Sith in person and get my chance to destroy them. I've never been able to get near them. All the arrangements have been made by holo."

I'm beginning to understand how difficult this situation must have been for Obi-Wan. He couldn't let Ferrin understand the power of the Force and he couldn't mind-whammy him into submission either.

"So what did you do?" I asked him.

"I played to his personality. I pretended I was needy and vulnerable after being rejected as a Jedi. I let him dominate me."

At this point Obi-Wan breaks my eye contact and continues his narrative while looking over my left shoulder.

"Since I have a high midichlorian count, I was a convenient test subject during the development of the plague. Even though Ferrin didn't believe in the Force, he knew that I did and so my midichlorians were important to me. He acted as my reservoir. He got a lot of satisfaction out of the power that gave him over me."

Obi-Wan meets my eyes once more before adding in a resolute tone, "Unfortunately, the plague strains needed a lot of testing."

Oh, Ghods... my Obi-Wan! The horror of his situation becomes even more clear in light of Ferrin's comments. Had Obi-Wan truly been a virgin at the start of this mission? Then he sacrificed his first-time for the Order... I would try to make it up to him. I raise one of his hands to my lips and bestow a gentle kiss on it.

But there's still a lot to be resolved here.

"So what were you planning on doing after Davin rescued me?"

"Ferrin and I would take the plague and the vaccine to the Sith, justifying the need to act fast with Jedi on our trail. I thought I could use Ferrin and his unshielded belief that I was cooperating to get close enough to the Sith to kill them."

That doesn't make sense. "Obi-Wan, you're a good fighter, but you needed a distraction to beat the apprentice. How did you think you would defeat both of them in battle?"

"I didn't; I was going to use a small plasma charge."

I stare at him. A suicide mission.

Looking down he adds, "In fact, I'm still going to have to try, even though I don't give myself much chance of success now with Ferrin dead. The Sith Lord will be too suspicious with my shields up. I'll have to use a bigger charge and hope he's near enough."

Although his face is sad, it is also determined, an expression I remember my padawan adopting time and again.

No... this couldn't be! Am I destined to lose Obi-Wan on a quixotic suicide mission? Ghods, he hasn't changed in all these years; it was the same on Bandomeer, where he was also determined to blow himself up.

"Obi-Wan! There must be another way!"

As he remains silent, my nightmare of Obi-Wan's encounter with the Sith Lord comes back to me full-force. For a moment I am terrified again as Obi-Wan seems doomed. But suddenly I realize there is another way.

First of all, Obi-Wan doesn't have to face the Sith Lord alone.

"Take me," I say. "You can erase this last bit of my memory, and my mind will be unshielded."

"I can't, Master. I'm not certain I could do it if I knew the blast would take you too, not even with the Jedi Order at stake."

While I'm flattered, I know Obi-Wan would do his duty. But in this case, that doesn't have to involve blowing either of us up.

"You don't need to kill the Sith, Obi-Wan, just destroy him."

Obi-Wan thinks about that a second. "Are you saying I could just expose him to the plague? It doesn't work instantaneously. He'd still be able to slay us both. I don't want that to happen to you, Master."

"He'll only kill us if he knows he's been deceived. I don't know which flask contains the plague and which contains the vaccine. Does he?"

After a moment, a smile of blinding brilliance breaks across his face, followed by the pure sweet tones of his laughter. Davin, who has been listening, joins in, as do I.

Once I start, I really can't stop, and I can't call on the Force to aid my control. I just laugh and laugh, releasing all the tension pent up from these past months, until my face and stomach muscles start to ache.

When at last it subsides, I am heaving for breath. Obi-Wan is holding me tenderly, but looking troubled. He can't think I'd die of laughter or that I've gone quite mad.

But he does have reason to be concerned. While we now have a plan, there's still plenty of risk -- for ourselves as well as the Order and the rest of the galaxy, if we fail.

I'm sure he's worried for my safety, as I am for his. But his poignant expression makes me think there must be even more to it than that.

"What's the matter, Obi-Wan?" I ask him, brushing my fingers lightly over his cheek.

"Master, I'm so sorry." He bows his head like a penitent. "You don't know how guilty I've felt all this time, intentionally deceiving you."

It wasn't any fault of his own. How like Obi-Wan to feel that way.

"Obi-Wan, you did what you had to do. And deep inside, I never really gave up hope."

As I say these words, I go cold, realizing this could jeopardize our plan. I cup his face with my hands and tilt it back up. His grim expression reveals that he is already aware of the weakness.

"Then I'll have to eliminate it," he says. "I almost ruined my chance with Ferrin. He knew that I still had feelings for you. That was why he wanted to get rid of you as soon as possible."

Obi-Wan draws in a deep breath and lets it out a little shakily.

"This time, I'll have to do better. I'll have to convince both you and the Sith that I am a true convert."

I remain silent as I realize how agonizing it will be for me -- worse torture than any the Sith Lord could wreak. But it is my duty to face it, and Obi-Wan's to inflict it on me.

"Master, whatever happens, know now that I love you," he tells me, a bit shyly.

I gather him to my chest. "Obi-Wan, I love you with the very essence of my soul," I respond sincerely, trying not to think what might become of it.

Obi-Wan kisses me in a way that I wish I could never forget, though I know that I will shortly. My body reacts and I yearn to live in the moment and become one with him. This could be our only chance. Even with our best efforts, we could fail and both get killed.

I want to lay with Obi-Wan now, make sweet love to him, help him overcome the abuse he suffered, and be united with him in body and spirit. But all that might leave an indelible impression on my mind.

In fact, the less Obi-Wan needs to erase of my memory, the better. I try to console myself with the thought that if we die fighting for the Light, we will be reunited in the Force.

But that doesn't work at all. I clutch him to keep him safe in my arms. My body throbs as if to pump his heart for him; I kiss him as if to keep breath in his lungs.

It is Obi-Wan who pulls back abruptly, eyes dilated and face flushed, to gasp, "We'd best do this as soon as possible. I don't have a lot of experience with blocking memories." He sounds apologetic.

"You're right," I agree, more reluctantly than I should. But there is one more thing I have to tell him. I place my hands on his shoulders and say, "Obi-Wan, you are a true Jedi knight."

Obi-Wan drops his eyes and whispers, "Thank you, my master."

He starts to raise his hand to my forehead, but stops to add, "I also want to put you out for the whole trip back to Coruscant, Master. That way, I won't have to stay in character any longer than necessary."

And I won't needlessly suffer under the delusion that Obi-Wan has turned to the Dark Side.

Davin, who has been occupying himself on the other side of the shelter to give us some privacy, reappears. He embraces me briefly, saying, "May the Force be with you," before he lets me go.

"Thank you, my friend," I tell him. Then I nod to Obi-Wan and he lays his hand on my forehead.

I return to the present after reliving the memory. Obi-Wan is cradling me and stroking my brow. I feel like I've died and joined the Force.

"You did it; it worked!" I exclaim.

"Yes, Master," he replies, continuing to pet me.

And this time, instead of laughing, I cry. Not just weep, but wail with relief... relief from despair, grief, and outright terror.

And I don't care how I'm acting. I'm just a man. A man whose universe has collapsed and been reformed, whose identity has been erased and rewritten, whose heart has been lost and found.

Obi-Wan holds me throughout this storm. I never truly realized how muscular his arms are. When I stop, gasping for breath, he plants soft kisses all over my face, murmuring, "I'm so sorry, my master... it's over now... I love you so much... everything is all right..."

I know from the drops of warm liquid on my forehead that he has also been crying. I've hurt Obi-Wan by letting him see how deeply I was affected.

When his lips ghost near mine, I capture them with my own. He drinks in my kisses desperately, as if he were dying of thirst.

Force... even his lips are strong! When I recall some of the things he can do with them, not to mention his tongue, my desire for him erupts.

Determined to show him that I've recovered, I break free, and with a wicked grin, tell him, "I'd like my midichlorians back now."

"Yes, Master," he responds automatically, then he startles, closes his eyes, swallows, and says, "Umm. You don't have to... " he waves one hand ambiguously, trailing off.

Does he think I would object? "Oh, but I do; I think some payback is long overdue," I drawl, intently watching his face.

His eyes fly open. His pupils, already dilated, grow larger and the tip of his tongue darts out to lick his lips.

Not this time, my Obi-Wan! It's my turn.

We are both completely clothed in full Jedi uniform, including our robes and cumbersome boots. In fact, Obi-Wan's hood is still raised, though mine must have fallen back at some point during my outburst.

If I were in touch with the Force, I might have the control to slowly, sensuously strip him and make love to every part of his body. But as I am now, I want to get right to the point.

I hoist myself up onto my knees and untie his leggings all in one motion. Then as I tug them down, I guide him to scoot backwards a bit, so that he can lean against the wall.

His cock is already half-erect and I eagerly bend down over it, whispering the word, "Beautiful..."

At the touch of my breath, his shaft lifts and I am enchanted. But before I take it in my mouth I want to explore.

I slip one of my palms beneath his member and the other under his balls as Obi-Wan gasps and fists his robe. Then I heft the warm weights slightly, as if judging them. They are perfect.

The sac containing his balls is covered with the most adorable little red hairs. I don't know why, but I never gave a thought to his coloration just there. I can't resist nuzzling it gently with my nose, sliding his balls around inside. I breathe the heady musky smell in deeply.

Obi-Wan moans and I feel the cock in my hand fill further. I squeeze it just a bit -- it's still slightly pliant.

The tip of my nose leaves the soft warmth of its nest and traces the thick meandering vein up the underside of his cock, pressing down into the flesh. Obi-Wan's moans increase in pitch the further I go. When I reach the sensitive spot just beneath the head and wiggle my nose back and forth, the sound Obi-Wan lets out is more like a squeak.

But I've been titillating myself as well as Obi-Wan, and now we are both rock hard.

Using the hand that had been cupping his balls, I untie and pull down my leggings to expose my own rigid cock. As I lever his shaft outwards and engulf the head, I enclose mine with my palm.

Obi-Wan thrusts once as he groans and his hands find the back of my neck. I am eager to memorize the taste of him, so I slide my tongue into the foreskin to imbibe his salty pre-cum. Delicious! I am now fully enraptured with all my senses.

His hips twitch quickly several times and the pressure of his fingers increases, so I cede to his implicit request and take him in completely.

I guess that was more sudden than he expected, judging from his shout.

There's an advantage in being large-proportioned. My mouth and throat can readily accommodate a big cock, even without any recent practice. I am truly enjoying myself now with my nose nestled in his auburn curls and I hum in contentment.

This does interesting things to Obi-Wan's body; it jerks like a current of electricity is flowing through it. The jolts seem to arc to my own groin and I can't wait any longer.

As I pull back up the length of Obi-Wan's shaft, I simultaneously stroke my own. I don't go all the way before plunging down again. I start out slowly, synchronizing the ups and downs of my head with my stroking hand, but soon our desire drives us faster. He starts pistoning his hips at a furious pace and even if I had a free hand to stop him, I wouldn't.

The inarticulate sounds Obi-Wan has been making resolve into words, "Feels good... oh, please, more... yes, yesss... suck me, please... "

I must have ingrained those lessons in politeness very deeply indeed.

He is ratcheting rapidly to climax, but so am I. I go deep and swallow as if actually trying to get him down and he shouts out, "Now, oh!... Master, I love you!" while his shaft swells and begins to pulse his seed deep in my throat.

My close view of his stomach muscles tensing makes me wish I could see his face, but my vision blurs as my own orgasm rips through me.

I continue to swallow as waves of pleasure break over me and it spurs Obi-Wan's shaft to further efforts. His orgasm goes on even longer than mine. When it is finally over, Obi-Wan's hands fall from my neck to the floor.

I lift myself off him; it looks like he has passed out. His face, sweaty and flushed, reminds me of the times he pushed past his limits during his workouts and my feelings are no longer of lust, but acute tenderness.

I wipe my hand on the inside bottom hem of my robe before pulling Obi-Wan away from the wall into the comfort of my arms. His hood falls off and his head lolls, his padawan braid swinging freely. A cold hand clutches at my heart, as I remember -- Force, how could I forget? -- that Obi-Wan is still officially a padawan, my padawan.

And I know physically he's no virgin, but his experience was in the line of duty. Ghods! The memory of his letting Ferrin take him in order to get his midichlorians back will always haunt me.

And the first time with me, he needed to store up my midichlorians, though the second -- oh, hells -- that was for the same reason! When the first batch of vaccine failed, it killed off both Obi-Wan's midichlorians and his reservoir of mine. He needed another sample from me.

He seemed unsure about letting me do this to him, at least at the start. I shouldn't have pushed him. As much as I wanted him, maybe I should have gone the impersonal route, and used the method he'd planned with Davin to get my midichlorians back.

Obi-Wan snuggles up against me as he comes round; I stroke his back and I whisper, "Padawan, I'm so sorry... "

That gets his attention; he pulls away from me, fully restored. "You must be joking," he says, arching his brow.

"I wasn't sure you really wanted it," I try to explain.

That brings on his impish half-grin. "I have the most intense orgasm of my life, I black out from pleasure overload, and you think I might not have wanted it?"

I take one of his hands and kiss it, remembering the time I had promised myself to make things up to him. "Obi-Wan, I want to make love to you when you are doing it wholly by choice, not out of a sense of duty."

"You are my choice, my master," he assures me, looking into my eyes with such an intense love that it steals my breath.

I kiss his hand again, my own heart overflowing. "And you are mine, my Obi-Wan. Still, I'd feel better if you were knighted." Although it is hard for me to think of someone who has killed one Sith, destroyed another, and saved the Jedi Order as needing any further guidance.

"Well then, you'll just have to get the Council to make an honest knight out of me. In the meantime, I'd better inform them of what has happened and get the rest of the vaccine to the healers." He holds up the half-empty vial with the red stopper before returning it to his robe.

How ironic that when I believed Obi-Wan was infecting everyone in the Temple, he was actually immunizing them!

"Will it take much time for my midichlorians to get back to normal levels?" I ask, wishing I could go with him.

"A few hours, at least. Overnight will do it."

I sigh. "And the Sith won't be neutralized yet. If he gets a hold on my mind now, he'll find out everything. I guess I'm stuck here."

"Don't worry, Master. I'll send someone with supplies," he assures me.

He helps me stand up, then tries to kiss me goodbye, but each time our lips part, one of us draws the other back in.

The kisses take longer and longer, and we are starting to heat up again. I press close to him and feel an impossibly hard bulge.

I can't resist. I pull back to ask, "Is that a vial of vaccine in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?"

Obi-Wan laughs explosively, but takes the reminder to heart. "I'd better get rid of that now, and avoid any new bulges," he says. He kisses me just once more, this time keeping the rest of his body at arm's length, then heads off to do his duty.

I miss him the moment he leaves, and though what I said to him about waiting for his knighting was true, I hope the Council can make time in their agenda to knight him before my resolve crumbles.

Still feeling a bit shaky, I lean against the wall. Unable to call on the Force to give me strength, I slide down into a sitting position. I adopt my meditation pose out of habit.

My Obi-Wan will be a knight. A year ago, I thought that was a foregone conclusion. And in the end, I was right. But before we got to this point, I came to doubt the Council, the Order, the Force itself, and Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan was the hardest of all.

I will have to meditate for real when my connection returns. In the meantime, I'll have to settle for basking in happiness.

"A knight, he is!" Yoda declares, now that the ceremony is over.

My master has made a lot of headway towards earning my forgiveness by arranging for Obi-Wan's knighting so quickly. Was it really only yesterday that I thought Obi-Wan had become a Sith rather than a knight?

Obi-Wan did send two initiates to me last night. One brought me dinner from the refectory -- a familiar-tasting bifka casserole. The other was laden with a sleep outfit, blanket, and pillow, but I spent the night awake, trying to calm my fears for Obi-Wan's safety.

Obi-Wan had set out leading a party of well-shielded Jedi in an attempt to capture the Sith Lord. I exulted in my returning connection to the Force, but I couldn't achieve serenity until I saw Obi-Wan, safe and sound, this morning.

Obi-Wan bows deeply before the Council, then I help him shrug into his new robe. The braid that hung behind his left ear for over a decade is now wrapped securely around my palm.

He turns to face me and I am nearly overcome by the complete vision of Obi-Wan newly made a knight. It is so perfect -- so right -- the past half year recedes like a bad dream.

Yoda shuffles over, probably to offer his well wishes to his former grandpadawan.

"Congratulations. Done well, you have," he tells my Obi-Wan.

"Thank you, Master." Obi-Wan bows politely.

"Difficult this was, for you," he says, a trace of sadness in his voice.

"Yes, Master," Obi-Wan agrees quietly.

Turning to me, he adds, "A trial for you, also, this was."

"Yes, Master," I reply sincerely, thinking of how trying the whole experience had been from the very beginning, and only getting worse and worse.

"Together, work well you do. Paired, you would be?" he asks.

A gift from my master! Normally, we would have to prove we could work together as equals after his knighting before being officially paired.

"Yes, Master!" we reply in unison, both of us grinning.

"Paired, you are then," he declares, adding his blessing, "May the Force be with you."

"And also with you," we reply in sync again, both bowing as he shuffles back towards his seat.

After we leave the chamber, it occurs to me that I could have taken Yoda's statement that this had been a trial for me in another way. Well, if he had meant anything by it, and this was some sort of belated Trial of mine, I suppose I must have passed.

We walk back to our quarters side by side, for the first time. I am deeply affected by the change, but Obi-Wan seems pensive. Although my connection to the Force has been completely restored, I still miss the training bond. Without it, I can't tell anything through Obi-Wan's background shielding. I suppose that's why he was picked for this mission.

"Is something bothering you, Obi-Wan?" I resort to asking.

"Yes, Master," he replies. "This mission was a part of my Trials."

"Yes..." I prompt him to continue.

"But I didn't succeed alone. Ultimately, the Council sent you in to help me."

"Obi-Wan, the Trials aren't intended to prove that you can work just by yourself." I explain. "They are intended to prove that you no longer need guidance. You spent the bulk of the mission working alone successfully. Then you worked in a team when it was required, not just with me but also with Davin. Your priority was always the needs of the mission."

"Thank you, Master," he says with a relieved sigh, as if he had been afraid that the Council would realize its mistake and revoke his knighthood. I can't help but chuckle a little. So like my Obi-Wan.

"Speaking of Davin," he continues, "he wasn't at all like what I thought an AgriCorps investigator would be like. More like a master... one of the nice ones, at any rate."

"I have no doubt that Davin's talents rival those of the strongest masters," I assure him, "though his inclination is somewhat different. But he can certainly look the part. Did you know he wore my outfit when he rounded up the bioengineer on Targon III?"

Obi-Wan laughed. "No! Didn't the scientist notice he wasn't wearing a lightsaber?"

"I suppose not. Anyway, he didn't give Davin any trouble."

"Thank the Force," Obi-Wan murmurs. "It's too bad we couldn't trace the Sith Lord," he adds.

"Yes, but I don't imagine he can do us much harm now. And while I can't feel sorry for him, he is certainly being punished, given that he has to live without a connection to the Force."

Obi-Wan shudders. He is the only other Jedi who has experienced true Force deprivation, as the test subject for the plague and vaccine.

I shudder in turn when I think again of what Obi-Wan had to do in order to re-host his midichlorians. And I resolve again to make it up to him.

We reach the door to our quarters. As it slides open, on impulse I scoop Obi-Wan up and carry him over the threshold.

"Welcome home, my new knight," I tell him, before setting him down. I bend over to kiss him gently, but Obi-Wan throws one arm around my neck, pulls my head down forcefully, and his kiss is nothing like gentle.

I welcome the familiar taste and feel of his avid tongue. He crushes my lips with his and sucks the breath out of my lungs. I am already dizzy when he suddenly uses a boost of Force to sweep me up into his arms. He carries me all the way into the master sleep chamber and lays me down on the bed.

"Welcome home, my new lover," he says, capturing my mouth again as he stretches out on top of me.

I lay there, pliant, as Obi-Wan plunders my mouth, plunging his tongue into it rhythmically. Force, his tongue is strong -- my toes are curling inside my boots. I can't tell what Obi-Wan's toes are doing, but I find out about his cock when he grinds his erection against mine.

He breaks the kiss so we can both gulp some air. I use the opportunity to gasp, "Obi-Wan, we'd better be careful with our sabers. They might ignite accidentally."

He muffles his laugh in my tunics, then raises his face, eyes gleaming. "We wouldn't want that, now."

He detaches my saber and his own, so recently returned, and places them across each other on the nightstand. I lay the loop of his newly-shorn plait on top of them.

As I'm doing that, Obi-Wan is struggling with the clasps on his boots. "These have got to go!" he remarks, as he kicks them off. "And these, too," he adds, turning his attention to mine.

As he is working my boots off, I lean down and unclasp his belt.

"Another good idea," he notes, reaching for my own. He gathers our belts and the robe I have just freed myself from, and steps off the bed to deposit them on the chair. He adds his own robe to the pile before returning.

We sit up together so we can easily reach and undo the ties and sashes holding our tunics shut. Despite what we've done before, I am hyper-aware that we are now stepping into new territory. I fumble nervously with the knots.

With one last tug, Obi-Wan's innermost tunic falls open. I place my hands reverently on his chest, fingertips on his collar bones. The contrast between the weathered backs of my hands and the pale, silky flesh beneath them looks almost sacrilegious.

I trail my hands slowly, lightly downward, feeling the firmness of his muscles underneath the sparse downy hairs. As I approach his small oblong nipples, they perk up into taut buds. My fingertips brush them, very delicately. Obi-Wan throws his head back and lets out a moan as gooseflesh breaks out all over his exposed skin.

I continue down over the bumps of his ribs, his chest heaving beneath. Then I spread my fingers apart and caress his abdomen, barely contacting the skin. His muscles twitch and tighten at my touch.

I've reached the top of his leggings now. Obi-Wan's whole body is trembling. I grab the laces and pull them untied, eager to move lower still. But a sudden Force shove pushes me prone and he is on top of me peeling open the last of my tunics.

He runs his fingers through my more-generous chest hair, his face split by a feral grin. He looks as if he is fulfilling a fantasy that he has hungered after for years. His touch isn't light at all; it's more like a deep massage, causing me to squirm under him.

Then he latches onto and starts sucking my left nipple. This sends jolts to my cock, which fondly recalls his talented mouth. It's become painfully compressed in my leggings. I loosen my laces and work the top down to relieve the pressure as Obi-Wan continues to assault my chest with his mouth and hands.

Desperate for more skin contact, I start to wriggle his leggings down. Luckily, I have long arms and he cooperates eagerly. Within a few moments, his erection is free also.

Obi-Wan is quite a bit shorter than me. Even with his head so low, our shafts are mostly aligned. He starts thrusting his along the length of mine. It feels so good... I move with him. His cock is weeping -- leaving wet trails up and down my length. Moist warm sliding friction -- I ache for more but this might already be too much.

"Oh, Stars!" Did I just shout that aloud? Well, he's noisy too. His moans are making me so hot -- low and erotic... the vibrations... he has to stop now or...

He suddenly rolls away. He strips off his open tunics, kicks off his leggings, and helps me with my own. Then he balls everything up and tosses it onto the pile of clothing already on the chair.

I am more than ready for whatever he has planned next. I watch avidly as he straddles my thighs, calling the bottle of massage oil from the nightstand.

Since he hasn't spread my legs, I'm pretty sure I know what his intentions are. My cock leaps up at the thought of being inside him. I had intended to make love to him gently and slowly, but if he wants to take the lead he can have it. Obi-Wan must know what he wants.

He warms a palmful of the oil with a little Force energy then dribbles it on my shaft, stroking to spread the lubricant evenly. I know he's not trying to stimulate me, but...

"Remember what I said about being careful," I warn him. I'm not that young any more and I don't want to have to wait long enough for me to recover in order to accept the gift he is offering.

Obi-Wan smirks in reply, but lightens his touch. I don't think he wants to wait either.

When he's done, he abruptly lifts himself up, scoots forward, and positions the head of my cock at his entrance all in one motion.

"Obi-Wan, stop!" I cry out. My body wants nothing more than to push up into him, but I grab his hips and lift him off. My erection snaps back, slapping my stomach. Obi-Wan looks at me with an expression of utter disbelief.

"Let me prepare you first," I continue. When a look of obstinacy replaces the surprise, I realize I shouldn't have issued a command as if he were still my padawan. I hasten to add, "Please. Please, my love, I don't want to hurt you."

His face softens, and I pull him down into my embrace.

"I'm not used to being prepared," he admits.

I kiss his cheek tenderly. "There's a first time for everything," I tell him. And I realize how truly Obi-Wan is still a virgin, not in penetration, but in making love.

I roll Obi-Wan onto his front as I sit up. He is stretched out before me like a sacrifice, but I am determined he will not be one. I know he's aroused -- Force knows I am, too -- but I'm larger than Ferrin was.

I heat a palmful of oil, then pour it onto the small of his back. After thoroughly slicking my fingers, I slide them between his cheeks, quickly finding his entrance.

He's already relaxed the muscle himself, so my index finger goes in easily. It still draws a deep gasp from him. I move it around, stretching him a little, but it's already safe to move on.

I coat two of my fingers in the oil, then press them into him. There's some resistance. I slide them in and out until I can feel him thrusting beneath my hand.

Then I add a scissor motion and Obi-Wan starts groaning and grinding into the mattress. I can't help echoing the motion with my own hips, rubbing my slippery erection along his thigh.

Thankfully, only one more to go. I withdraw my fingers to scoop up the rest of the oil, then channel it inside. I carefully ease in my three middle fingers. I may be large, but my fingers are too, so if he can accommodate them, he'll take me easily.

This time it's very tight, so I move slowly and at a different angle. The last change hits pay dirt. He yells out, "Force!" when I nudge his prostate.

I still want to go slow, but Obi-Wan doesn't. He reaches back with one hand, grabs my wrist to hold it in place, and ratchets back and forth, using my fingers to pleasure himself.

He's making those sexy moans again -- he can't be too far from the edge. That and the action of my fingers plunging into his warm, tight passage have me ready to go with him. If we come, so be it. Ferrin fucked with him without making love. I can make love to him without fucking him.

Unbelievably, Obi-Wan seems to sense that. "Not this time!" he exclaims, pulling my hand forcefully out of him. "You can't claim I'm not ready!" he continues, urging me onto my back again so he can resume his position straddling me.

It's obvious where the wet spot I feel underneath me came from. As he positions himself on my cock again, a large glistening jewel of pre-cum appears at the tip of his rigid shaft and falls -- bull's eye -- into my navel.

Just then, he drops his body and the head of my cock pops inside smoothly, along with a few inches. I cry out his name in pleasure and torment. It takes all my resolve to keep my hips still... thank the Force he's on top! I'm not sure I could manage to enter him gently. That's one Trial I don't want to take.

He remains as still as a statue for a few seconds, with his head flung back. His eyes are shut, their thick lashes highlighting his cheekbones. The tip of his tongue is peeking out between his lips, which are swollen and moist from our earlier kisses. His face competes for my attention with his taut muscular body, including his rigid organ.

I am incredibly blessed; there isn't a more perfect form in the universe. If he were a sculpture, it would be the idol of an entire civilization. But he is mine alone to worship.

We moan in unison as he lowers himself again. Each time he stops I want to pull him down. Each time he moves, I want to thrust up. The seconds pass as eternities until he is finally nestled balls deep. I am completely buried in him. It feels... there just isn't a word to describe it.

Obi-Wan moans, "Ghods! So full..." as he squeezes me inside his body.

I respond with a low groan. The sight of my Obi-Wan astride me like a glorious conqueror overwhelms me. I've waited so long for this moment. Desire and love fight for dominance and both emerge victorious.

I want to share what I'm feeling but we're both shielded. We can't risk broadcasting. I won't be able to share this with him unless... but, no, I don't want to ask. I don't want to pressure him.

But just as I thought 'no', Obi-Wan must have reached 'yes'.

"Please, will you let me shield for us both?" he asks, stroking my chest as if he were a supplicant.

It's an incredible offer. If I release my shields while under his, we could soul bond. Most lovers are unwilling to attempt it.

Dumbstruck, I can only nod. I am more than willing if he is. He can have my all, and I will take as much of him as he will give.

Still impaled, he leans forward until he is lying on top of me and I can kiss his lips in gratitude. He kisses back with more than that. As he plunges his tongue inside my mouth again, I feel his shields washing over me in a powerful wave. The next moment I am underneath them and I am buffeted about by his emotions -- love, desire, joy, a sense of accomplishment, and even gratitude of his own.

There are no articulate thoughts, like there are with a bond, but I am left in no doubt as to his feelings. I just lie there for a few moments, being surrounded by him, both in mind and body.

Then I feel a nudge against my own shields, and I realize he wants to go all the way. His lips are still pressed against mine, but I break free to ask, "Are you certain?"

"I've never been more sure of anything in my life," he murmurs before capturing my mouth again.

Under his shields, I know it's the truth. That convinces me. Obi-Wan knows what he wants.

I try to lower my shields slowly, but feedback loops spiral out of control. Joy rises to rapture; desire inflames pure lust. The remainder of my shields crumble, and we are in total contact -- skin-to-skin and mind-to-mind.

I can't hold still any longer. I start thrusting heedlessly. Obi-Wan pushes himself up, grabs my hands, and wraps them around his cock. Then he rides me, taking over.

"I've got you!" he gasps out, as he plunges down hard.

"Oh, yes, " I moan, "And I've got you," I add squeezing the head of his cock.

Without any shielding between us, we are completely in tune. I stroke his shaft to his rhythm. My hips pump in counterpoint. Faster and faster we speed up in sync.

We are both shouting things out, noises and phrases, emotions and words, mixing us together. Oh, my Obi-Wan... in you finally... I love you... Ghods, Master... in me... Force!... be with me... want you... yes, please!... stay with me... come with me... now, Obi-Wan, now!

I can't hold off. My balls tighten and the warmth rushing up my belly is echoed in his mind and I couldn't stop if the Jedi Order depended on it.

Thankfully it doesn't. I am yelling loudly, just as Obi-Wan is. I am pumping my everything into him and he is spasming around my shaft. His warm sperm splashes onto my chest. At the very crest, there's a bright burst of Force; Obi-Wan's mind starts slipping away and at the same time I feel as if I were fainting.

Reacting on instinct, I feed him energy as I catch him in my arms. It's incredibly easy, almost an unconscious act.

He responds, his mind coming back into focus and I can feel his confusion, but more importantly, hear his unasked question.

"I think we're bonded, my Obi-Wan," I murmur into his ear.

//Yes, my Qui-Gon, we are,// he returns clearly along our newborn soul bond.

//Hmmm... 'my Qui-Gon' -- I like that even better than 'my master'// I think to myself, allowing him to overhear.

//I'm glad you approve, my love. I don't always want to call you 'master' in bed.//

//Please don't. At least, we should take turns.//

Obi-Wan lifts his head up slightly and arches his eyebrow at me, and through our bond I feel his interest.

//Well... I am on top now,// he suggests, but the effect of his lascivious grin is ruined by a huge yawn.

Drained of the energy needed to form a soul bond, we're both exhausted. And, of course, neither of us got any sleep last night.

//And you will be time and again,// I assure him.

The thought that this is the start of forever allows us to put off anything more for the moment. We are both overcome with a sense of complete satiation. I'm still inside him, and I don't want to pull out.

He snuggles against my neck and whispers, "I love you, my Qui-Gon," echoing the sentiment in the bond.

"I love you too, my Obi-Wan," I reply, both in voice and thought, stroking his back.

Despite having access to both our minds, I'm not sure which one of us falls asleep first.

//Thank the Force we're home!// I send to Obi-Wan as we step through the door into our quarters.

//I think we can find more privacy here than on the trade federation ship or in the royal court of Naboo...// he returns, with an unmistakable pulse of lust.

As we hang up our robes, I send my hearty agreement. The common room is plenty private enough. We have to make up for lost time.

The frustration I felt as I pined away for Obi-Wan in the months after he left the Temple was simply nothing -- I mean nothing -- compared to having him within reach, but untouchable, with a newly formed soul bond channeling between us.

My master must have sent us to Naboo thinking it could serve us as a kind of honeymoon. Certainly, there was no work involved. Whatever tensions had been growing suddenly evaporated. The Trade Viceroy agreed to our recommendations without so much as a counter proposal. As we left the trade ship to visit the planet surface, Obi-Wan said aloud, "You were right, Master," -- he still calls me that in public -- "The negotiations were short."

But then the queen of Naboo packed our schedule with so many festivities and tours that we hardly got to make use of our sumptuous accommodations. As lovely as the planet is -- we even visited a totally separate culture underwater -- I would rather have spent the time locked in a utility room furnished only with an uncomfortable cot as long as Obi-Wan was in there with me.

On our way home, he laughingly suggested we get some time to ourselves by telling the Council that our ship had a severe malfunction and we had to make an unscheduled stop at a backwater planet we were passing called Tatooine. I told him that unless he had a thing for Hutts and didn't mind getting sand in his orifices, we'd probably be better off on whatever mission Yoda next had in store for us.

And so until my master can send us away again, I -- we -- intend to make as much use as possible of the privacy of our quarters. Starting in the common room... alone with my Obi-Wan -- my love, my soul mate, my chosen one.