Master Apprentice
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(continued from part 3)
I am thrown to the floor as we enter Kryta's bedchamber, and kicked in the chest. The pain forces me to curl into a fetal position, but Kryta does not allow me this small comfort. He pulls me to my feet and in a remarkable show of strength tosses me onto the bed. I land face down, naked and with my wrists still manacled behind my back.
Vrit, who is already on the bed and lounging like some great, horny cat, laughs. "Something tells me our master is not pleased with you."
I snarl at him, enraged that I have been taken from Qui-Gon and thrown back into this hell.
Kryta runs his hands roughly up my body and grabs hold of my neck, pushing my face into the fur-covered bed. He straddles me and his weight makes it difficult to breathe.
"Slut," he says and shoves a finger up my ass.
I arch, gasping at the invasion. The pain blinds me as tears fill my eyes. He pushes hard into me, thrusting up. He is angry and I fear that he will split me in two. And then, as suddenly as he entered me, his finger withdraws and he flips me over. My hands and the chains dig into my lower back.
He moves down my body and spreads my legs. "No," I tell him. I can not take another rape. My body, my mind will shatter.
He runs his nose over my chest, abdomen and groin. He's sniffing me again. I shudder with nausea, but watch as his face slips under my quiescent cock, under my balls... he breathes in deeply and smiles.
My hands clench behind me. I would give anything to crush that bastard's head between my thighs. But I do not have the strength to spit, let alone to kill a man.
He lifts his head and looks into my eyes. "Now I smell a Jedi master on you."
I gasp in horror. // Qui-Gon, he knows! You're in danger!// But my master can not hear me.
Kryta laughs with a low rumble that begins in his belly and spills from his parted lips like some toxic ooze. "You think I didn't know."
"How?" I breathe out, my curiosity momentarily overcoming my horror.
"Just now... You revealed his secret yourself."
"No," I say shaking my head. I can not have just betrayed my master.
He smiles more ferally. "But of course, you only confirmed my suspicions. His age, his bearing and his refusal to take a bedslave all gave me pause. I knew that I had a Jedi in my midst." He bends to lick my inner thigh. "It's too bad you couldn't feel the Force when he fucked you. That's what you want isn't it? To feel your Jedi master and the Force inside you?"
"Bastard."
"Ah, there is some fight left in you." He flips me onto my stomach again. "Now it's time you boys got better acquainted."
He holds me down and unlocks my restraints and then refastens them to the bedpost above my head.
"I promised Vrit he could have a ride before I kill you."
"What?" I try to look back at him over my shoulder.
"I'm bored with you, Jedi. Your resistance was amusing for a time, but Vrit has reminded me of the delights of a willing bedslave."
My mind races. How much time do I have? "What about Kemp?"
"Anxious to make him pay for what he's done to you?"
"Yes."
"Good. That should be very entertaining. You will have your chance tomorrow. And if you survive the fight with him, I'll enjoy killing both you and your master."
He pulls off my body and then I feel the slight frame of Vrit slithering between my legs. Pushing them apart, exploring my body with his whore's hands. He's eager to have me, I can feel it in his trembling and his urgency.
"Play time, Jedi," Vrit chuckles.
I'm shaking my head 'no,' and feel myself slip from sanity. I cry out through tears as Vrit shoves his hard shaft inside me. The pain skitters through my body, along nerve endings, to my brain.
The guard is easily distracted. With a small bit of Force suggestion I put him to sleep. His tall frame slides to the hallway floor in a deep slumber.
I move through the corridors of the castle, nearly invisible with the Force as my camouflage. If only Obi-Wan had access to the Force this escape would be much simpler. But he is closed from it and from me and in his abused state I fear that he may be incapable of rational thought.
I find the control tower for the landing pad. There are two guards, but only one controller on duty. Access will be difficult, but not impossible. I watch for long minutes, concealed by a portable fuel tank, trying to determine any pattern in their behavior. The guards are pacing with boredom and the controller has just taken out a deck of cards. Soon, my patience pays off. One of the guards is called away by a mechanic who is having difficulty opening a panel on a transport ship. They are far enough away that my approach will go unnoticed.
I walk up the metal stairs to the second guard who is curious and anxious about my approach.
"Who are you?" he asks firmly.
"I am Jinn, a guest of Master Kryta."
"You don't have clearance to be here."
"You've seen my clearance and it's in order," I say waving my hand between us.
"Your clearance is in order," he repeats back.
"I may go in and will not be disturbed."
"Go in. No one will disturb you."
I nod and he steps aside as the door to the control tower slides open. It's best for the guard to remain on duty. If I'd knocked him unconscious or otherwise removed him from his post anyone walking by would become suspicious.
The controller turns in his chair to me. He is puzzled by my presence, but I don't give him a chance to ask questions. "You never saw me," I say and put a strong suggestion of sleep into his mind and he eases back into his chair for an unexpected nap.
My eyes scan the control panel. I'll need to find the access codes that will allow my ship to leave without delay. I do not want to change the codes, that could be found in a routine security check. My fingers glide over the panel punching keys and typing in commands. This system is very much like the security system on Paradise V where Obi-Wan helped me to disarm...
My stomach tightens with the thought of him. An image of him naked and writhing beneath me sends a burst of warmth to my groin and I groan with the memory. I must focus on my task. I must not become distracted by tantalizing images of my padawan.
There, the codes appear on the monitor. I memorize them quickly and then look on the control panel for the weapons system. There are command buttons, but I can not disarm the weapons from this location. I type in another string of commands and soon a long series of codes fills the monitor. There are too many to memorize. I search for a disc to save the information, but can not find any. I look back at the numerical codes. Maybe if I can remember just a few it will be enough. I commit several to my mind and then take a moment to cover up evidence of my presence here.
I step outside the tower and swipe my hand in front of the guard's eyes. "You don't remember seeing me here." His eyes become glassy and I walk down the stairs and away from the tower. As I turn toward the corridor I see the first guard approaching. This is unfortunate.
I walk faster towards him so that we will be out of view of the second guard.
"You're not authorized to be here."
"I was checking on my ship. I am leaving tomorrow."
"What's your name?" he asks and reaches for a commlink on his belt.
I can't let him call anyone. I use the Force to wrench the commlink from his hand and throw it across the bay.
"Hey!" And he's reaching for his blaster.
In less time than it takes to blink I draw my lightsaber and ignite it. His eyes are wide with the realization that I am a Jedi. But I must be cautious. I can not afford this confrontation. The noise of it would alert everyone in this wing. But the sight of my lightsaber seems to have him mesmerized, giving me an opportunity to use a healthy dose of the Force to rip the blaster from his clenched hand. It skitters across the metal floor away from him.
"Intruder!" he shouts.
I disengage my saber and tuck it securely under my traveling cloak. I rush him, dive at him in an aggressive move to defuse this situation. He wrestles me. He is strong, but he is not as well trained as I and does not have use of the Force. I pin him and cover his mouth with my hand. With my other hand I knock him unconscious. Now I need to lock him away where he will not be found for some time.
I drag his stunned body to a closet where fire extinguishers and other miscellaneous equipment are stored. I find a long hose and tie his hands and feet together, and then gag him with the sleeve of a thermal suit. He will be unconscious for a good while and I hope these restraints will keep him from getting help. As a last precaution I use my lightsaber to discreetly weld the door shut.
Now I must return to my room before I am missed. With Force-enhanced speed I retrace my steps and find the guard still sleeping peacefully. The castle is quiet tonight and I wonder where Obi-Wan is right now. Is Kryta true to his word and making him perform once more? I cringe at the thought, but there is nothing I can do. If I go to him we would be quickly outnumbered by armed guards and my identity revealed. Many would die and that is never the best course of action. With patience the Force will show me the time to act. The moment when our chance to escape is the greatest.
He has given me my Jedi robe to wear. It feels wrong. Heavier than I remember it. As though the entire weight of the Jedi Code is now sewn into its fibers. That Code is no longer attainable to me. I am now guided by passion and anger---the code of lost Jedi.
But what is this? A familiar scent warms my senses. It is Qui-Gon! My beloved master's touch has left a signature on my robe. Oh, master... last night you were so beautiful and powerful, and more hungry than I ever could have hoped. But no, I can not hope that hunger or love brought us together, but merely base lust. A passion that is beneath true Jedi. What will become of us? Will you ever let me look at you again after what I have done? After I led you into an act you are no doubt regretting this very moment.
I am escorted to a large exhibition hall. A small grandstand rises to my right. The seats are filled with Kryta's court and guests. Even under my hood I can feel their eyes on me. They are more curious about me now that I am cloaked than when I was nearly naked. They have come to see the Jedi entertain.
Kryta and two guards stand before me at the edge of the hall. He rests his hands on my chained wrists and looks under my hood to my face. "You will fight Jedi... to the death... yours or Kemp's, I don't care which. He betrayed me and you no longer interest me."
His words are soothing in their finality. I will find peace in my death or in Kemp's.
"I want my guests to see a Jedi perform. You will give them a good show or your master will suffer long at my hands."
His words are spoken quietly. They are for my ears alone. For my understanding alone. All part of the illusion of his grandeur and power. He knows he has me in my hatred for Kemp and my love for my master. I am bound to obey Kryta in this... at least.
His hands slide from my wrists to my waist and he pulls me toward him. I shudder from the intimacy of those hands and the memory of their touch. He licks my ear and exhales. One hand goes to my neck and there is a click. I take a frighteningly deep gulp of air. He has disengaged the Force-dampening collar. I am free. Life and Force flood through me. I sway under the deluge of Force energy and Kryta's hands go to my hips, steadying me.
My instinct is immediately to reach for my master. // Master! He knows who you are!//
Qui-Gon's presence in the Force is comforting and he responds with ease. // Be calm, Obi-Wan. I have a plan.//
// But master...//
// Patience, Obi-Wan.//
I can not see Qui-Gon from where I am standing, but his voice in my mind is familiar and soothing. Somehow we will come through this alive.
"You will kill Kemp or I will kill your master," Kryta says.
I blink at his words and try to clamp down on my revulsion. Qui-Gon will feel everything now through our training bond.
"There is a power field between the exhibition court and the stands. You will not be able to reach him or me. Now use this gift wisely... and remember it would give me great pleasure to fuck your Jedi teacher knowing you could feel every second of it."
My jaw clenches and I look on him with barely contained hatred. He grins mockingly, kisses and then licks my cheek and walks away. The guards remove the chains connecting my wrists, but the manacles stay in place. They quickly retreat beyond the power field.
I am standing at the edge of the exhibition court. There are no training mats or padded walls to buffer thrown bodies. The metal floor is polished and its dark gray color reflects my face impassively. I stare down at the stranger in the reflection. He is not the Obi-Wan I remember. He is not the boy who longed to be a Jedi. He is only a shell, the last sad remains of a once devoted padawan learner.
My master senses my confusion through our bond and sends me reassurance. I want to sob. How can he be so giving when all I do is take? I took his words, his teachings and threw them away for passion with a stranger... and then I took my master's body as well.
Olan appears at the far end of the court. He looks agitated and his eyes betray the sleepless night he has endured. He is dressed simply for his standards in dark pants and boots and a short leather flight jacket. He stares at me from across the hundred meters of durasteel floor. He knows of what I am capable. He has feared this day since we first met.
I step several meters within the yellow border of the court. I am in full view of the spectators now. They can see me, and I can see them---all of them even my master. My mind drifts to him once again and I feel my heart swell with my love for him, but I shield the bond from letting those feelings reach him. He does not need the burden of my love to complicate the burden of my passion for him.
I pull the hood down from my face and let my robe fall from my bare shoulders. I am dressed in skintight white pants that reveal every movement of my legs, every flex of muscle, and every bulge. Their purpose is all too apparent to me and to the many eyes lusting after me. The only other articles of clothing Kryta has allowed me are my boots and belt. My Jedi travel boots are practically a part of my body, they are so formed to me. I think he has given me these things to make me look more "Jedi" for his guests.
Olan and I meet at the center of the court where an elderly man presents our weapons. It is strange to see him again under these circumstances and to be given this chance at revenge. Our affair seems ages ago, but his betrayal like yesterday.
He is given first choice of weapons and is allowed to choose as many as he likes. He selects a blaster, vibroblade and spraynet gun. What choices remain would hardly do me any good, but the tray is taken away and another, smaller one is brought out. On it rests a single object---my lightsaber.
I look up into the crowd to Kryta's throne, seeking confirmation of what I already know to be true. He is serious about me killing Kemp. Kryta has given me every possible advantage. I am to do his dirty work. I am to be the instrument of death.
I turn from Kryta's gaze, letting my eyes pass Olan briefly and then settle on my lightsaber. I take it in hand and a small smile curves my lips. It is an old friend. I designed it and built it to be wielded in my grip alone. With my lightsaber in hand, I can see that my ordeal is coming to an end. The Force is with me, my master is with me, and my enemy is before me.
The old man leaves the floor and Kryta signals for a gong to be struck for us to begin. Despite my conviction to kill my former lover, I bow to Olan. It is tradition. I am a warrior, but an honorable one. He snorts and begins to pace in front of me. He is no fool. He knows my weapon is a defensive one, but he does not know that Kryta has disengaged the collar. It still encircles my neck tightly, but its power over me is gone.
I power up my saber, taking a defensive stance. The familiar blue blade is soothing to my weary eyes and I look beyond it to Kemp's green penetrating gaze.
"Obviously your usefulness has come to end, Obi-Wan," Olan barks out.
"You are the one who is no longer useful. Kryta knows you had me before you made a gift of me."
The green eyes widen with sudden understanding. He knows he is disposable now. He knows that he will not survive this. Even if I do not kill him, Kryta will.
The strength of our voices and the design of the hall makes it easy for the spectators to hear our taunts. It adds to the tension and enjoyment of the game. Somehow I have become a willing player in this. I like the feel of passion's guidance. Of its rough hand guiding me to completion, letting me end this trial as passionately as I began it.
I circle Olan, stalking him. He follows me with his eyes and I can see he is ready for this to begin and to end. He aims the blaster at me and fires three shots. I deflect each one like child's play. His eyes squint and I can see he is reassessing his options.
He takes the vibroblade from its sheath and jabs it toward me. I leap beyond his reach. There is no way he can defeat me with the Force at my disposal. But for some reason I want to prolong this, make him work at trying to kill me, and all the while knowing that it will only take one swift lunge for me to end his miserable life.
Obi-Wan, you called out to me at your first opportunity and now have shut me out of our bond. Are you afraid of what I might think when I look into your mind and into your heart? Are you so confused by my taking of you that you no longer see me as master? We can do this together, padawan. We will do this together.
Kryta grins at me from several meters away. I am tired of this game. I don't care that he knows my true identity. It will not save him. He is prideful, overconfident and underestimates my ability as a Jedi master, but more importantly the determination of a man in love. No power field and certainly no Codru-Ji will keep me from my Obi-Wan. From finally taking him in my arms and loving him the way I should have long ago.
Olan swings at me. I back flip away and a gasp of astonishment pours from the onlookers. Kryta applauds my move and a chant begins to rise from the stands. "Jedi, Jedi, Jedi," they call to me.
Circling closer, I make my first offensive move. I swing low at Olan's legs. He is quicker than I expect and jumps out of harm's way. I walk toward him, slicing the air between us with my saber. It is an old trick of intimidation and it works on Olan, too. The buzz and swoosh make his eyes bright with worry. I am exhilarated by my power over him, by this chance to show him he has not broken me.
I lunge forward, tucking and rolling and coming up for another sweep. My saber singes his jacket and the smell of burning leather reminds me of burning flesh. I inhale it deeply. My focus narrowing on my prey.
"The tables are turned, Olan. I can sense your fear."
"You can *sense* it?" he asks, holding the vibroblade before him as if that will protect him from a lightsaber. "But the Force-dampening collar..."
"Kryta disengaged it for the fight."
"That bastard," he growls and looks toward the stands.
"Ha!" Kryta laughs at us from his throne, having heard every word. "What are you waiting for Jedi? He betrayed you. Now is your time."
A new chant is taken up by the crowd, "Kill, kill, kill."
I absorb the bloodthirsty emotions of the onlookers and turn a hateful glare on Olan.
Even with the odds against him, he stands confident before me. "He's right, Obi-Wan. What are you waiting for?"
Olan's smugness sends me over the edge. There is nothing I would not do for this victory over him now. I channel the Force and with a flick of my hand I send an intense wave of energy at him, propelling him halfway across the court, landing him hard on the unforgiving durasteel floor. His head thumps sickeningly against the floor, but it does not knock him unconscious.
I stalk over to his dazed body. I am pleased with his condition. My emotion leaks out to my master. The bond is reopened before I realize...
// Obi-Wan, listen to me. You can disarm him and this will be over.//
I practically snarl at my master's words and slam my shields back up. I'm standing over Kemp; he is barely to his knees. I can finish this.
I raise my lightsaber high above me...
"Obi-Wan! No!" Qui-Gon cries out from the stands above the roar of onlookers.
I freeze. That authoritative tone, that voice has guided me in so many things. I look for Qui-Gon in the crowd. He is standing. His eyes are filled with emotion... an emotion I have never seen. Is it love?
Then everything tips sideways, and I crash to the floor. Taking advantage of my distraction, Olan has grabbed me by the ankles and pulled my feet from under me. My saber is knocked from my hands and deactivates.
Kryta howls as he pushes through his guests to get to me. It seems my outburst gave him reason to attack. His hands are around my neck before I tear my eyes away from Obi-Wan. The hands are large and powerful and intent on killing me. But I turn my focus to him and shove him back with the Force.
Guards are coming. Kryta is standing again. This has to end now. He's reaching for a small blaster fastened to his hip. I withdraw my lightsaber and as he shoots I ignite the green blade and deflect the laser fire.
"Kill him!" Kryta shouts to his guards.
Until now they were hesitant to discharge their weapons. There are so many people in the stands. But with his order the laser shots come quickly, randomly. People scream and try to find cover. I deflect as many blasts as possible, trying to shield myself and redirect the blasts away from the guests, but some of the guards' anxious fire strays into the crowd. Bodies are dropping around me.
Olan pins me to the floor. Straddling my hips, he holds my arms down with his knees. The heel of his hand pushes under my chin, forcing my head back painfully.
"You're not doing your job, Jedi, you're supposed to save me... remember?" he laughs bitterly.
I can not respond. The pressure of his hand under my chin is keeping my jaw closed. He's reaching for the vibroblade on the floor next to us.
I grunt and reach out to the Force, using it to knock him off me. He tumbles away.
"Last I heard, I was to kill you."
We are both on our knees, looking on each other with equal hatred.
"Then why don't you?"
For a split second my mind travels to the day I met him at the cafe. I remember how I was immediately attracted to him. How I was flattered by his attraction to me. How I set my ideals aside for the passion of a stranger. I can't let him win. I can't let him take everything away from me.
"No," I tell him, and he seems at once relieved and disappointed. "I am Jedi." The words reverberate in my mind, half-absorbed by my need to be whole again, and half-lost by the passion which guides me now.
I spring from my crouched position and tackle him, wrestling him to the floor. I grab the spraynet gun from his belt and aim it at his chest. The gun releases a stun mist and a thin flexisteel netting. Olan is rendered unconscious and immobile. My shoulders slump with exhaustion, but I am suddenly aware of the fight that is taking place on the other side of the power field.
My heart quickens. Guards are firing from all directions at my master. I need to shut off the power field. I run the length of the exhibition court looking for the access panel, but it is on the other side of the field.
// Master! I can't reach you!//
My apprentice's frantic call pierces my mind. He has let Kemp live, but he still stands at the edge of the abyss. Its vastness tempts him with the false hope of solitude and nothingness.
The power field divides us. I shove guards and guests out of the way with just a thought, all the while deflecting blasts. Obi-Wan's mind is thankfully quiet now, and he even manages to send a pulse of energy through our bond to me. As a Jedi, he is just beginning to realize his potential in the Force and I can not fail him now. There is so much more I need to show him... teach him.
The access panel is within reach. My back is against the wall, my saber held before me in defense. I am vulnerable, but if I can deactivate the field my apprentice will be at my side in seconds.
I reach to the panel with my left hand, glancing at the command buttons and back to the small re-grouped forces Kryta has organized. I take a chance, hoping the security codes I discovered in the control tower will also work here. I key in the numbers. Nothing. The field holds. Obi-Wan is bouncing on the balls of his feet, lightsaber ignited. He is so close, but separated by that invisible barrier.
I try another code, keying more numbers, and then turn to deflect a rapid spray of bolts from Kryta and his guard. Suddenly a searing pain tears through my arm. I double over in excruciating pain, crying out as I realize my wrist bone has been shattered by a stray energy bolt.
"No!" Obi-Wan cries out. It is the sound of complete and utter helplessness.
My lightsaber drops from my hand as I clutch my injured arm to my body. The pain tears through me from my hand up my arm.
// Master!//
// Focus, padawan,// I tell him and then try to do the same.
I concentrate on the Force, the energy of all life around me. It opens my mind, draws me away from the narrow focus of the pain. Within seconds the pain lessens enough for me to straighten and see Kryta and his men are closing in. Their weapons are pointed at me, but they've stopped firing. They want to take me prisoner. Kryta is a fool to misjudge me.
// Be ready, Obi-Wan.//
In one last desperate act to be reunited with Obi-Wan, I call my lightsaber to my good hand and turn with all my remaining strength and plunge the blade into the access panel. The energy from my blade melts the wires and connections in the panel and shuts the system down completely, including the lights in the hall. The resulting near darkness sends the guards into a panic and they start to fire blindly. I deflect only a few of their red energy bolts before the familiar blue blade of Obi-Wan's lightsaber appears just meters from me. He joins me in the fight and together we push Kryta and his men back, giving us room to maneuver.
I am at my master's side again, fighting, protecting as I have been trained and am honored to do. Our minds, our bodies are in complete synchronicity, but Qui-Gon is gravely wounded and I must compensate for his injury.
There are fewer against us now. We have successfully deflected their fire and one by one they have fallen. And then the lights come back on. Someone has managed to reroute the power. Now we can see what we already knew through the Force; only five guards and Kryta remain against us.
"First I got to watch you fuck, and now I get to watch you die," Kryta says, taunting us.
He is wrong. I know he is the one who is about to die... and in the moment I sense this I see a bolt strike him. A direct hit to the center of his chest. But it is not of my hand. The bolt was deflected from my master's saber. Kryta falls forward onto a spectator's bench. I stare dumbfounded. He is dead.
A gentle nudge to my mind from my master tells me there is no time for delay. We must take advantage of the fact that Kryta's guards are also dazed, confused by what has happened.
"Come, Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon directs me and we retreat quickly to the exhibition court where Olan is lying bound on the floor.
I deactivate my lightsaber and clip it to my belt. With a little help from the Force I hoist a still unconscious Olan over my shoulder. A tiny thrill courses through me. I am the captor now.
The sirens blare throughout the castle, alerting any unaware security guards to the danger. We hurry as I carry Olan to the landing platform where Qui-Gon's ship awaits. Despite the alarms, we have relatively little resistance getting to this point. There seems to be little fight left in this place without its evil master.
We ascend the ramp of the ship and I drop Olan on the floor before rushing to the ship's controls with Qui-Gon. My master slumps into the pilot's chair his focus wavering. He is in pain once again. He looks to me and without a word we switch places. I know this is his rescue mission, but I no longer care. I just want to get out of here.
With his good hand he begins to enter a series of numbers... a code. I suddenly recall my last escape attempt, standing over the controls of another ship. My stomach does a flip remembering.
"Obi-Wan."
I blink and turn my eyes to him. His face is calm, self-assured as always.
"We have clearance," he informs me.
I do not question how this is possible, and turn my focus back to the controls and power the thrusters to depart. As the ship begins to lift we see a large contingent of guards storming into the hangar. It seems they have finally re-organized and have decided to come after us. But it is too late. The blasts from their hand-held weapons rock the ship, but do little damage.
As our ship pulls back from the hangar and I bring it around to head into space, laser cannon fire begins behind us.
"Now, Obi-Wan."
The memories of all the lives lost here makes me hesitate. As if their souls are crying out to me one last time, "take us with you." But my master's words are enough for me to skip the final, usual safety check, and I throw the lever, powering the engines to full, taking us away from this place forever.
Once in hyperspace, I lock Olan safely in a small sleep chamber and then immediately return to the cockpit where Qui-Gon is sending a message to Coruscant. We will be home in a couple of days and he has advised the Temple to have healers available.
I kneel at my master's feet. "Please, let me..."
I raise my hands to the first aid kit on the control panel next to him. He has already taken painkillers to ease his discomfort, and is going into a light meditation to regulate his breathing and disperse more of the pain, but his wound needs cleaning and dressing.
He nods and I look at his mangled wrist. The remains of the wrist bone is exposed and surrounded by burnt flesh. It will take the expertise of the healers to repair the damage.
He lays his arm on his knee to steady it while I work. I spray a generous amount of bacta to begin the healing process and to prevent infection. I then carefully bandage the wound. I look to his face for any sign of pain, but find only gentle, tired eyes.
With the wound tended to I sit back on the floor. We need to talk. But where do I begin? Do I start with my first digression from the Code? Or my fifth? Or my last? It doesn't matter, I have failed him. I have failed the Jedi.
Somehow I have the courage to look into those blue depths and say, "I'm sorry, Master."
"Shh," he replies and presses a finger to my lips. "No, Obi-Wan."
My lips quiver under his touch, under the watchfulness of his eyes. I need him badly, want him badly, but there is no excuse for me to use to seduce him now. We are free of Kryta's lair and returning to the Temple on Coruscant. And in that return we will need to find what remains of the life we shared.
"Rest your mind now," he tells me as if he's reading my thoughts even though I am shielding against him. "There will be time to talk later."
I shiver from the cold of space and from his compassion, and as I pull my arms around me for warmth I remember that I am still ridiculously half-dressed from Kryta's game.
Qui-Gon slides from the co-pilot's chair to the floor in front of me. He opens his arms, though it is painful for him to move his left arm. I am humbled by this gesture and gratefully take the warmth he offers and rush into his embrace. He enfolds us in his robe and rocks me gently.
My master. My universe.
Obi-Wan warms in my arms, clinging to me like he hasn't in years. I am reminded of him as a thirteen-year old boy when after a particularly dangerous mission he clung to me for strength and reassurance. This time his embrace is that and more. His apology still weighing heavy in my mind.
"Let's get some rest. Then we can talk," I say.
I feel his nod against my chest and then he rises, helping me to my feet. Physically Obi-Wan is in better condition than I, but mentally I fear we have a long journey ahead of us.
He keeps his arm about my waist as we walk to the sleep chamber, and then gently guides me to one of the sleep couches. I sit hard; the mental and physical exhaustion of my journey and the strain of my injury, catching up with me.
"Master. Can I get you something? Tea?"
I look into his eyes. They are as weary as I feel. "No, thank you, Obi-Wan. Perhaps later."
"Then let me help make you comfortable."
Before I can protest, he is on his knees, unfastening the straps on my boots. His head is bowed and his actions clipped, almost hurried. Though he has done this for me on dozens of occasions, this time it feels wrong. He is not meeting my eyes, and his mind is closed off to me--sealed as tightly as a safe.
"Obi-Wan..." I say, touching his bare shoulder.
He slips one boot off and then hesitantly raises his eyes to me. "Yes, Master?"
"It took longer than I had hoped... to find you." He is silent, but the crease in his brow deceives any pretense at calm. "Kemp was not easy to track. If it wasn't for Padawan Muln..."
He looks back to his task, cutting off my explanation. "It's not your fault, Master."
"And it's not yours either, Obi-Wan."
His eyes flash as he looks to me again. "Isn't it?"
"Certainly not."
He seems to consider the conviction in my tone, but does not comment. Instead he removes the other boot, and takes off my belt and robe. With his task complete he stands before me, looking as unsure as an Initiate, and frighteningly cold in that exhibitionist outfit.
"You're still wearing the collar," I tell him.
His hand goes to the durasteel ring, touching it almost reverently. "I had forgotten it was there..."
No doubt he has been wearing the device since his abduction, and morbidly has grown accustomed to it.
"There are clothes for you in the closet. Perhaps you'd like to change..."
He nods and quickly retreats from the room, seeming embarrassed.
I am half asleep when he re-enters the room some time later. I sense him, then smell him, before I open my eyes to see him standing near my sleep couch dressed in his uniform pants and inner tunic. He is fresh from the shower and has removed the last of his bonds.
"Rest, Obi-Wan."
"Yes, Master." Before he removes to his own sleep couch, he pulls my blanket around me. "Thank you, Master."
I don't know how to reply. He is so sad, so unlike the Obi-Wan I remember, and I cannot help but think I am partly to blame. After what happened between us on Munto Codru I am surprised that he is this cordial to me.
There are emotions playing inside me, emotions I was afraid to address until Obi-Wan was taken from me. We have been good friends for many years, but now the love I had been resisting has bloomed. But can Obi-Wan love me, too? Can I hope that when he has healed from this trauma there can be more than friendship, duty and respect between us?
I cannot sleep. Every time I close my eyes I see the death and misery my mistake wrought. And when I open my eyes and stare at the resting form of my master across the room, I see the pain I brought him, too.
I want to ask him: was it really worth it to come for me, to risk yourself, to witness what I had become, and to let me take you down the path of passion? How is it you have only kind words for me? Where does your patience end? On Coruscant, perhaps? When we return to the Temple, is that when you will say what you are truly thinking?
"Obi-Wan..."
My master's voice startles me.
"Yes?"
"You're not sleeping."
"I guess I'm not tired." I sit up, running my hand through my hair. "I should check the ship."
"The ship is fine. You need rest."
My brow tightens. "You're the one who needs rest. I need to move about." I realize too late the sharpness of my tone, but do not apologize. I slip on my boots and stand. "I'll check the coordinates and make you some tea."
"Don't be long."
Outside, in the corridor, I take a deep breath. Why is this so difficult? Why can't I just act like everything is the same? Pretend it never happened? Pretend I do not know what it feels like to be taken by my master, to have him inside me, on me, moving with me. I wish I could forget how very sweet Qui-Gon was... how perfect he was.
I lean against the corridor wall, steadying myself. I must forget. I must move forward in time or drown in want.
Somehow I make myself move, and find myself in the cockpit. I check the coordinates and then sit back in the pilot's seat, watching the stars streaming past. Part of me thinks this is a dream, that I'll wake to find myself chained to Kryta's bed. But I quickly recall the memory of Kryta's death. The moment he fell like a timbered tree, hard and lifeless, before me. I find it difficult to believe he is dead and that I am on my way back to Coruscant.
"Olan."
The name slips from my tongue as I remember his presence on board. In my concern for my master I had forgotten that slime of a humanoid still existed. But now that I have remembered, I feel a want gnawing at the base of my skull. I want to see Olan. I want to smash his face.
The urge is strong, and feels good, and I get up from the cockpit and walk slowly to the makeshift jail where Olan is locked. I swerve back and forth down the corridor, letting my fingers brush against the cool metal walls. I imagine all sorts of torture for him. All the wonderful pain I can inflict on him now that I can feel the Force again. My body tingles with the thought of it and the coldness of space.
At last I am at the small sleepchamber where I left him. I key the door open and palm on the light. He is on the durasteel floor, wrapped in the netting and curled into a ball to keep warm. I grin at the sight of his discomfort.
My footsteps wake him.
"You," he says flatly.
I look down on him and squint as if he's hard to see. "Comfortable?"
"What do you care?"
"I want you alive when we get back to Coruscant."
"So your childish justice can be served? Spare me the kindness."
I kneel next to him and drag him into a sitting position against the wall. The netting is snug on his body, and I should remove it, but I enjoy seeing him this way.
"What do you want?" he growls. "To fuck me again? Is that what has torn you away from your master? You're used to a regular fuck now?"
His arrogance burns inside me and I strike him hard across his left cheek.
His face turns away briefly and then defiant green eyes find me again. "I see I’m right. You want to fuck me… and then kill me."
"Maybe I'd rather kill you first," I tell him and shudder inwardly at the intensity in my voice.
"I never took you for a necrophiliac, but to each his own.” He chuckles.
"I survived what you did to me, Olan. Your words have no effect on me now."
"Really? Then why are you here? Why not just leave me to rot until we get back to Coruscant?"
I take a breath. Yes, why am I here? To torture myself? To injure him? To take revenge?
"You want me, so why don't you just take me?" he says in a near whisper. The tone in his voice is reminiscent of our time on Coruscant, a time when we used each other's bodies gladly. "Come closer, Obi-Wan. Let me kiss you and lick you."
I close my eyes and shudder against the arousal his words send through me. What is this power he has over me?
"Your master is asleep. You can have me and he'll never know. I'll never tell."
"My... master?" I can't betray Qui-Gon again. I can't walk further from the light. For his sake I must control my passion. "No."
"You say that as though you mean it, and yet I know your appetites too well. I know how you enjoy a good fuck. How you enjoy the challenge of hanging on the edge of your orgasm, hanging there, needing to fall over the edge, needing to let yourself slip into ecstasy."
My lips tremble, his words bringing my mind swiftly back to images of our bodies entwined.
"It can be that way again, Obi-Wan. It's two days back to Coruscant and your old master is injured. He won't know."
"Don't speak of him."
"Oh, I understand. Jedi stuff. You respect your master."
I nod.
"And now that he knows what a slut you are he should be the one fucking you."
“You don’t know anything,” I say, my fists clenching.
"Struck a nerve, did I? You told me yourself how the Jedi like to fuck each other.”
His words and the smirk on his face are too much. No matter how much I know these emotions are dangerous, I cannot resist. I let the anger rise in me and lunge for his throat, my hands going around his neck and clamping down. His eyes widen at the stranglehold, but he's smiling at me. I squeeze harder and pull the Force to me, to my hands, to make the threat more real, to bring him closer to death.
"You meant nothing to me, Olan. It was just sex," I tell him, eagerly watching as he begins to drift in and out of consciousness from lack of oxygen. The smile still ghosts his lips as he slips closer to permanent unconsciousness.
"Obi-Wan!"
The sound of my master's voice startles me. I throw a glance over my shoulder in irritation, but do not cease my assault.
"Release him!"
"He deserves to die," I say through clenched teeth and an ever tightening grip on Olan's throat.
In the blink of an eye, I am thrown back from my prey, my body flung, sliding across the floor and into the far wall. My master has used the Force to stop me, but I am quickly on my feet. Olan is coughing and breathing in great gulps of air, and I step forward, looking between him and Qui-Gon.
"No, Obi-Wan. This is not the way."
Qui-Gon's voice is firm, but filled with that lustrous tone that has lulled me and guided me for so many years. But I am resolute in my need.
"He must die for them," I say angrily.
"Who, Obi-Wan?"
"They died because he kidnapped me." I move forward towards Olan, but Qui-Gon stands in my way. "Move aside, Master. I will avenge their deaths."
But Qui-Gon does not move, and so I ruthlessly grab for the Force and shove him aside, sending him crashing into the wall. He hisses with pain as his injured arm collides with the durasteel. I am gripped by the agony of this pain as it leaks through the training bond.
"Master!" I am suddenly myself again and run to his side. "Master, I'm so sorry."
He pulls away from me.
"Let me tend to you." How could I have done this to Qui-Gon? He has risked everything for me and still I can only think of my own deep desires.
"No, Obi-Wan. You are too erratic... unbalanced."
I bow my head and try to focus, but my feelings are pouring from me.
"From now on I will see to the prisoner," Qui-Gon says.
"You should have let him kill me," Olan rasps, coughing from the near suffocation.
"Your fate will be for the Senate Judiciary Committee to decide," Qui-Gon tells him dismissively.
We step outside and let the door close behind us before either of us speaks again.
"I'm sorry for hurting you, Master."
"Tell me what happened. Tell me whose deaths you need to avenge."
Qui-Gon's eyes search mine. I know he wants to hear everything. He wants to know every detail of the horrors I suffered as though his knowing will take my pain away.
"People without names, Master..." It is so hard to explain. So much happened in so little time, and I truly do not wish to revisit it. "People suffered because of my mistakes."
"You're not making sense, Obi-Wan. There is so much passion in you. I no longer sense any serenity."
I shudder. He is right. I have lost control. I can no longer think, I only feel and feel passionately. And in that passion I have tainted my own master. Forced him to couple with me in a greedy lovemaking that has surely left scars on our relationship. And now I have injured him; struck him when he became an obstacle to my passion.
"Obi-Wan. What did they do to you?"
I look into his eyes, but cannot bear the kindness I see there. "I don't want you to know."
"I can't help you heal if you won't talk to me."
"Please... it's better this way." I bow deeply to the man to whom I owe my life and soul. "I will heal, Master. I have not fallen, but merely stumbled, and I will find my way again... back to serenity. I promise."
One moment he is passion, the next he is serenity.
Obi-Wan has withdrawn from me, but in the most respectful way. Since our altercation in Kemp's temporary cell, he has been polite and obedient, tending to my wound, preparing meals... but he is so restrained. Almost without feeling. His eyes never light, his humor never surfaces and I worry at the change. It is as if he fears emotion.
Beyond dressing my wound, he never touches me. I know I should not regret this, after what I did to him on Munto Codru, but even in meditation my thoughts drift to the sweet memory of my padawan's touch. Unwilling or no, his body enflamed mine and he became the desire of my dreams. I have loved Obi-Wan for a long time, but until his disappearance I never fully faced that love, that longing to be everything to each other.
As we land at the Temple's landing pad on Coruscant, tears fill my eyes. I turn my face and swipe the tears away before my master can see them. I have been given a second chance and I cannot falter by giving into such emotional outbursts.
At the bottom of the ship's ramp we are met by Master Yoda, a team of Healers, and Senate guards. Qui-Gon is immediately taken into the Healers' care and whisked away on a hover stretcher. We share little more than a glance, but I am comforted that he will finally have the medical care he so desperately needs.
"Good it is to have you home," Yoda says, drawing my attention away from their retreating forms.
I look with weary eyes on the great Jedi.
"Healing now there will be. Sacrificed much Qui-Gon did for your return."
"Yes, Master." I bow deeply.
"Guilt you must not feel."
"Yes, Master." My reply is all duty, but not acceptance. How can I not feel guilt for what has happened?
The guards have gone inside the ship to collect our prisoner. I choose not to wait to see Olan transferred into their custody, and am escorted away by a padawan healer.
At the Healers' dome I am ushered into a small examining room where I meet a master and his young apprentice.
"I am Master Healer Tenta Noebin and this is my Padawan Learner Lu T'au."
"I am Obi-Wan Kenobi."
We bow to each other.
"Yes, we are pleased to hear of your return."
"Thank you."
"Now, please remove your clothing and we will return shortly to proceed with the examination and heal any injuries."
His tone is mild and yet in this sterile environment I cannot help but feel that it is also clinical. They leave in a soft rustle of robes, and I dutifully remove my clothes. As the layers peel away, I find that for the first time in my life I fear this level of medical scrutiny.
Just as I finish setting my clothes aside, the two healers re-enter the room. I lift myself onto the examining table and shiver at the slight chill of the room. The padawan is a young human girl, no more than sixteen, and she is blushing slightly. I close my eyes and center myself on feeling... nothing. After being paraded naked and fucked senseless for the last week, why should a girl's mild interest bother me?
When I open my eyes again, the master healer is looking intently at me. "Let us begin. Please tell me if you feel any pain or discomfort during our examination."
I nod.
"You were raped?"
The directness of his question surprises me, but I answer as emotionlessly as I can. "Yes."
"You will need counseling, but first we will examine you for injury. Please lie face down on the table."
I swallow, but obey his words. As I lie down memories of Munto Codru flash in my mind. Forced takings. Fierce howls. Blood. Pain. Tears. Hatred.
His hand barely touches my shoulder, and I jump.
"Relax, it's only me. I will tell you before I do anything intrusive."
His hands lightly skim my body looking for injuries internal and external. When he finds one he directs his padawan to help in the healing. "Here, lay your hands here... focus on moving the blood to this point," he instructs the girl.
His gentle tutelage makes me ache for Qui-Gon. My master was always kind in his teaching. His patience amazed me and even when I had not learned the lesson well the first time he would take the same care to instruct me again. And then I threw all his goodness away and forced him to bed me... roughly tossing his gentleness aside in exchange for hungry, passionate sex.
"What have I done?" I murmur aloud.
"Padawan Kenobi? Did you say something?"
"When may I see my master?"
"He is in surgery. It will be several hours before you will be allowed to visit."
I feel deflated. On one hand I am not worthy of Qui-Gon, and on the other I want desperately to be at his side. If Qui-Gon were here what would he tell me? 'Be patient, Padawan,' he would say. And I grin at that.
"I can see you have healed some of the more minor injuries, but you have multiple contusions on your body. Calm yourself and let us heal these for you."
Warmth radiates from their hands into my skin. It is the warmth of physical healing, but what of my mind? I have meditated and worked hard to regain my serenity, but it is an illusion, and one that the healers and my master will soon see through.
The padawan healer giggles. "I did it, Master!"
"Very good, Lu. Now remember to slowly cool the healed wound. Bring the skin back to its normal temperature."
Their pleasure in her accomplishment is obvious and I remember a time when I too beamed with delight at having succeeded at something my master had taught me. How I long for the days when I was focused on becoming a Jedi instead of sating my passion.
I am in their care for over an hour. When they are finished, my body is whole again. All my wounds have been healed. The dull overall ache is gone and the pain between my legs has subsided. I feel refreshed, but lost. I must go to Qui-Gon.
I wake to the blue-green searching eyes of my padawan. They speak of his concern and fill my heart with memories of his former self. And then the emotion is gone. As soon as he realizes I am fully awake his mask of calm reappears.
"Master," he says with barely a grin.
"How long?"
"Six hours. Your surgery went very well, I am told. You should have full use of your arm in six to ten weeks."
"That is good news. And you? Have you seen the healers?"
Obi-Wan's head bows slightly. Surely the healers took special care knowing some of the details of his ordeal.
"They were very kind to me, Master. But I am expected in counseling tomorrow."
"Good. You should not fear that, Obi-Wan. As painful as the memories may be, it will help you to share them with another."
I wish he would share those horrible memories with me, and in my need to comfort him, I reach out my right hand, touching his forearm. He lifts his head and looks into my eyes.
"I'm sorry, Master, truly I am. And I will do everything in my power to put things right."
"There is nothing to be sorry for. Yes, it will take time to heal, but we will get through this... worse things have happened to Jedi teams."
His eyes widen at this statement. "Then you still want me as your padawan?"
"Of course I do!" I am shocked that he would ask such a thing. "Do you think I would travel halfway across the galaxy and risk my life just to throw you aside? I love you, Obi-Wan." He gasps and pulls his arm away. I suddenly realize what I have said, but I will not back down. "It's true, Obi-Wan, I do love you..."
"No," his says softly. "You cannot...."
He gets up from the bedside chair and turns to leave.
"Obi-Wan... Padawan..."
"Please, Master. You need to rest."
And he is gone.
I am not worthy of his love.
After a restless night in our quarters alone, I arrive early the next morning for my first session with the counseling healer. Master Cl'ta is rotund and from a race of humanoid cave dwellers called Coways. As is customary for her race she wears crystals on long chains about her neck. They are partially concealed by her long tunic and the fine gray down which covers her skin, but I find them oddly appealing, as though they hold the secrets of the universe in their pink hues.
We bow respectfully to one another and then she gestures for me to sit on a cushion on the floor opposite from her. I settle easily onto the oversized pillow and wait for her to begin... and wait... and wait. She watches me carefully, studying me, but not in an uncomfortable way. The look in her eyes is gentle and kind like my master's. A man who has spent the last six years guiding me in the Force. A man who never so much as squeezed my arm too tightly or spoke too sharply to me when it was undeserved. And how did I repay him? With deliberate malice.
Just then she speaks, as if knowing she needs to interrupt my thoughts. "You have been through a great ordeal, Padawan Kenobi."
"Yes, Master."
She is quiet again.
I catalog my posture in the way I was taught as an Initiate in first level meditation class. I am in lotus position. My back is straight and my hands are clasped loosely in my lap. My breathing is regular and I feel almost no anxiety at being here. What could I possibly be afraid of now?
"May I call you Obi-Wan?" She grins.
"Yes, of course."
"Good. And you may call me Cl'ta. Coways have only one name."
I am a little surprised by this gesture, but also pleased. "Thank you, Cl'ta."
"I am here to help you, Obi-Wan. But I can only help you if you let me. We must work together."
I think about her words, but do not answer. I am unsure how she will be able to help me make sense of what has happened and wonder what will take place in these sessions.
"It is good that we have met so soon after your return to the Temple. It must be good for you to be home."
"Yes."
"Your path will be much more clear now. And you realize you do not need to walk that path alone. Do you understand this, Obi-Wan?"
I blink, wondering how she can know this when I have yet to explain the circumstances surrounding my abduction and return. But her voice is soft and I am reminded once again of my master. "I know I am not alone."
"Good," she says and then we sit quietly again for long minutes. "Join me again here tomorrow. We will continue then."
"Yes, Master... Cl'ta."
I stand, bow and leave the room.
Obi-Wan has not come to see me today. Though my room is seldom quiet with all the healers coming and going and visits from Mace and Yoda, my mind is always on him. I am afraid my honesty has hurt Obi-Wan. He is not ready to accept my love. And why should he after what I did to him?
Twenty-four hours have passed and I return to Master Cl'ta's counseling chamber. My thoughts, as always, are of Qui-Gon, but I cannot bring myself to visit him again. It will be soon enough when I can no longer avoid him--what I did to him, but for now I have retreated.
Cl'ta greets me with a warm smile. She is already sitting on one of the colorful cushions on the floor and is sipping a hot berry extract from a large cup. The sweet aroma fills the room and I inhale it gladly. Filling my lungs with the delicious scent is the first real pleasure I have enjoyed since returning to the Temple. When I bow to her it is in respect and thanks for the small joy she has just given me, though she is completely unaware of my unspoken gratitude.
Once I am seated, she nods. "Good morning, Obi-Wan. Would you care for some bay-la nectar?"
Though the scent of the berries happily fills my nostrils I do not want to spoil my enjoyment of them by tasting them. I prefer this distant admiration. "No, thank you... and good morning to you."
Her smile fades, but her features do not become harsh... just calm and concerned.
"It is my habit not to read my patient's files. Do you understand?"
"You mean that you are not familiar with the recent events in my life?" I shiver, finding my own question somehow detached.
"Yes, Obi-Wan. I have only the barest knowledge of why you sit before me now. I am aware of your kidnapping. It was impossible to be at the Temple and not to have known. I am also aware that your master, Qui-Gon Jinn, left the Temple in search of you. And that is all I know... though I can deduce that he was successful since you sit before me today." She grins and then takes another lingering sip of her drink before adding, "Now, Obi-Wan, it is up to you to fill in the blanks."
I stare dumbfounded. Fill in the blanks? She says that as if she's asking me to complete a survey or apply for a transfer of quarters. The blanks she wants me to fill in are huge and painful and laced with poor judgment and disappointment.
She senses my confusion and hesitation.
"Take your time. We have as long as you need... I am always ready to listen."
I close my eyes and immediately see images of the last weeks. They are mostly images of passion--sex, anger, desperate need, and the moment I had lost hope of my future as a Jedi. When I at last open my eyes the expression on her face tells me she expects me to begin... now. But I remain silent. If I begin where will it take me? Back to that place? Back to my passion?
"You are afraid. Perhaps if you let go of your fears you could face what has happened."
"I am not afraid."
She waits for more. If my words are true and I am not afraid then I should be able to tell her. I should be able to take her down the path that has brought me to this point. To a place in my life where I stand, not on a ledge ready to fall, but staring at a fork in the road.
"I will tell you," I say, with a small nod. And I do tell her, as dispassionately as I am able.
I begin with my meeting Olan Kemp in that busy café and the all-consuming affair that followed, and then explain how he deceived me, used me to save his life by giving me to the hideous and narcissistic F'Kar Kryta. I recall the harem, the sex, the deaths, the endless games and then blessedly, my master's arrival. Carefully, I evade any mention of our passionate coupling, and move on quickly to the events surrounding our escape and return to Coruscant. All this I explain as cryptically as possible. Just enough to give her a glimpse, but not to understand my pain or my passion.
"So you see," I say in ending this emotionless litany. "I am not afraid for myself. Kryta is dead. Olan will face the Senate's Judiciary Committee and I will never be so careless of my own safety again."
She nods and for the first time places her cup on the floor next to her. "You have experienced much in a very short time."
"You could say that."
"And you have done well."
I raise an eyebrow in challenge, but do not speak.
"We will meet again tomorrow. May the Force be with you, Obi-Wan."
(continued in part 5)