Time's Last Battle

by Epeeblade (epeeblade@aol.com)

Categories: angst, non-con, chan,

Archive: Yes to MA, anyplace else please ask first

Feedback: is always appreciated and replied to

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters. They belong to Lucasfilm, LTD. I make no money from this.

Summary: Obi-Wan seeks out an old enemy and discovers an even older secret.

Notes: Thank you to Hikaru for the Beta. All mistakes are, however, my own. (It's the commas. They get me every time.) And thanks to Tom for his thoughts on part 3, though he doesn't even read slash.

WARNINGS: non-con, chan (character is 16)

SPOILER WARNING: AOTC fic ahead!

Pairings: non Q/O - click here for specifics

It wasn't as difficult to find him as Obi-Wan first feared. A few well-placed questions to the right people got him a time and a location. And since his padawan was still dealing with the Senator on Naboo, he had a few precious days in which to follow his intuition.

Unlike most establishments of this kind on Coruscant, the bar was quiet. It was the kind of place where locals came to unload their troubles and have a few drinks. Tourists and travelers were unusual. Jedi were unheard of. Obi-Wan found "Cass's Skill" on one of the lower levels, in the middle of a rather poor residential district. He checked his chrono, and hoped his informant had been truthful, that he would find his quarry here at this time.

He pushed open the plasteel doors and stepped inside. Smokey and dim, it took him a few moments to adjust his eyes. A long bar ran along the opposite wall, and tables dotted the interior. Along one corner sat a group of musicians, looking as if they were on a break. Everyone inside had turned to glare at him, a stranger entering this protected place. He was very glad he had decided to wear civilian clothing, although his light saber was still clipped to the brown leather trousers underneath his long black tunic.

Only one man did not turn to look when Obi-Wan stepped inside. He sat hunched over the bar; all that was visible was his long black hair, haphazardly thrown into a tail with several strands escaping along the man's shoulder and back. Obi-Wan turned his senses towards the stranger, already aware of the buzz of a Force sensitive. The man blatantly shone in the Force, unlike the mostly Force blind who occupied the bar.

The Jedi walked over to the bar and sat next to the figure. He wasn't really sure how to approach this man, despite all the work that had gone into discovering this meeting.

"I don't have a quarrel with you." He said gruffly, "The Jedi shouldn't concern themselves with me."

Obi-Wan nearly jumped at those words and made eye contact with the figure for the first time. Those cold blue eyes widened as he fully took in Obi-Wan's face. Obi-Wan appraised the man quickly. He was older, those bright eyes were wrinkled at the corners. A thick black beard crept along the man's face, but could not disguise the one distinguishing feature – the scar on his cheek, that of a broken circle.

Xanatos.

"You!" Xanatos growled, pushing himself away from the bar.

Obi-Wan stopped him with a gentle hand on his arm. "I don't have a quarrel with you either. I just want to talk."

The former Jedi arrested his movement and stared at Obi-Wan for a moment. He nodded and sat back down, waving at the bartender. "A drink for my friend here."

Obi-Wan's lips quirked at the word friend, but he didn't question it. He accepted the drink graciously, but kept the glass on the bar.

"So the kitten is all grown up now," Xanatos murmured, leaning one arm on the bar. He played absently with the green remains of his drink. "How did you find out I was still alive?"

Obi-Wan shrugged. "I figured it out after a visit to the Jedi Archives. Something on the holonet about a bankrupt company that dealt in instantaneous transportation technology. Nobody seemed interested enough to keep it alive. I expect having one's molecules rearranged is not the preferred mode of travel. Anyway, the important thing is that I recognized the company as a subsidiary of Offworld, and if it had succeeded in developing this technology…"

"Then I would have had access to it, and could have used it to escape all those years ago. Strange that only a bankruptcy notice would have given it away." Xanatos grinned at the younger man. "This was what, 20 years ago?"

"And you've managed to keep your nose clean all this time," the knight shrugged. "You clearly were not interested in returning to your old ways."

"You mean enslaving and raping planets? You would not believe the amount of holo-work an intergalactic company generates."

"Never mind the fact that you were publicly dead, so you couldn't return to Offworld, or Telos."

Xanatos looked away, tossing back the remainder of his drink. He slammed the empty glass on the bar-top and gestured for another. "Are you not going to drink yours?"

Obi-Wan slid his blue concoction over to him.

"Not exactly what I meant." He leaned back, bracing himself on the bar. "So why are you here? To bring me to justice? That won't be easy. I'm a regular here, these people are my friends."

"I won't make a scene," Obi-Wan shot back; he made a surreptitious scan of the club, noting that the atmosphere seemed tense. Most of the conversation had either stopped or was conducted in hushed whispers. The musicians in the corner still seemed to be on break, reluctant to go back to their work. He sighed, "I only want to ask you about one thing."

"That's all?" Xanatos raised an inquisitive eyebrow. He patted around in his jacket until he found something, then pulled out a slim death stick.

Obi-Wan frowned at the object, though that didn't stop the former Jedi from lighting it. "Count Dooku," he said finally.

Xanatos coughed on his first inhale and smoke leaked though his nose. "What?"

"He was Qui-Gon's /master/ and I didn't even know," Obi-Wan went on in a rush. "I checked the archives. You knew Dooku. He was there for your training. I want to know about who he was."

"Are you sure?" Xanatos gasped, still recovering from his earlier mishap with the smoke. "Sure you want to hear this from a failed Jedi and washed up corporate leader?"

Obi-Wan turned his face away as he spoke. "I don't think there is anyone else left who knew both of them like you did."

"That just might be a good thing. C'mon, Kenobi, this is not the conversation to have here." Xanatos stood, leaving a credit chip on the bar. He nodded at the proprietor and Obi-Wan felt the mood in the club change, become more relaxed.

"Where are we going?"

"I have rooms just up the block. We can speak privately there. Unless, of course, you don't trust me." He was already walking away as he spoke, and Obi-Wan followed smoothly.

"I am no longer a boy. I think you'll find more than you bargained for if you try anything foolish."

"You were a handful even then," the older man murmured so quietly, Obi-Wan wasn't sure he had heard him correctly.

The rooms Xanatos led him to were small. The furniture and wall hangings were done in muted beiges and grays. Even the tiny kitchen area, which was attached to the common area, echoed that soft coloration. Obi-Wan didn't have to get very far inside before he realized that this could not be where Xanatos really lived. First, the room lacked any trace of a Force signature, suggesting these rooms were rarely used at all. The furniture looked too new, too clean to be regularly used. And when Obi-Wan sat down on the soft couch, he found the cushions stiff and unyielding.

So, Xanatos was still cautious, always leaving himself a back door, even after all this time.

The older man met Obi-Wan's grin with one of his own, as if they shared the secret. Xanatos moved about in the kitchen, drawing himself a glass of water from the tap. "Would you care for anything? I believe there might be some tea here, if you like it plain."

"No, thank you." This was not a social call. Obi-Wan centered himself in the Force, releasing his fears and anxiety. He knew there was always the chance that Xanatos might lie to him, but he hoped his skill in the Force could prevent that from happening. Or at least give him due warning.

Xanatos came back with the water and sat across from Obi-Wan, crossing his legs. Though nearly 10 years older than Obi-Wan and gone from the Jedi for twice as many years, he still retained grace and agility in his movements. Obi-Wan found himself watching those pale long-fingered hands as the older man drank from his glass, and those dark red lips, almost hidden beneath the full beard.

"I haven't thought about this in years, didn't want to really," he began, not looking at Obi-Wan, but at the glass he held in his hands. "I was 16." He stopped, frowned. "I'd known Master Dooku for years, actually. He never stayed long. Would visit our quarters, have tea with Qui-Gon, then leave. Missions, you know. I didn't know much about him, except that he was extremely kind to me. Apparently we had much in common, both coming from royal families that had other paths in mind for us than being Jedi."

Xanatos set the glass down on the table that served as the barrier between he and Obi-Wan. He stood and began to pace in the small living space, stopped to play with the lights, bringing them to the brightest setting. "It's because of what happened when I was 16 that caused Qui-Gon to stop speaking to Dooku forever."

Part 2
30 years ago

Sometimes he hated being 16, Padawan Xanatos mused as he headed for the quarters he shared with his master. At 16, he was too young to join Master Qui-Gon on his latest mission, to a planet with strict age taboos. He was too old for his Junior Padawan status, but couldn't take the exams for Senior status for at least another year. He knew he had the ability. Frowning down at the com-pad in his hand, he reflected, `well the physical ability.' His latest exam on quantum mathematics was going to make Qui-Gon very displeased when he returned.

And the last thing he wanted was for Qui-Gon to be displeased with him, he thought dreamily. His master was so perfect, the greatest `saber fighter the Jedi had ever known, so skilled in diplomacy, so powerful. Xanatos would imagine how it would feel to be enclosed in those broad muscular arms, to feel his master's exquisite weight upon him, as he breathlessly kissed him…

Now was not the time for such thoughts, especially with a failing grade on this exam. He would have to plan his seduction of Qui-Gon for another time, perhaps with his stellar history grades. He grinned at the thought as he palmed his way into his rooms.

The quarters were, quite frankly, a mess. With Qui-Gon gone, Xanatos had indulged in every teenage boy's fantasy and cheerfully missed every one of his chores. There would be plenty of time to clean the mess up before Qui-Gon returned, but for now, he would step over his boots in the door way, shove aside the tunics on the couch and ignore the food congealing on the plates in the sink. All he needed to do was check in with Master Yoda from time to time, and then his time was his own. And the rooms remained a mess.

All except Qui-Gon's bedroom, which he had kept out of as his master had requested. There was no real need to enter and he actually had seen the inside of that room rarely. `Except when I need to clean it,' he thought cheekily, as he stood outside the closed door.

Qui-Gon would not be back for another 2 days. What could it hurt, really? He pushed the door open hesitantly and peaked inside. It was dark and a bit dusty. Xanatos hit the light panel, and the room was bathed instantly in white light. His eyes ignored the shelves along the opposite wall with his master's collection of keepsakes from missions gone before, the picture window with its changeable view and the dying plants at the bedside. (Uh oh, he had forgotten to move those into the common room and consequently, forgotten to water them). He moved to take in the large bed in the center of the room.

With a childish giggle, he sprang into the room and bounced onto the bed, springing up and down a few times. He settled in the center, staring up at the ceiling with his hands clasped behind his head. Oh, to be invited to share this bed!

Although he knew he shouldn't (he really shouldn't) his hand snaked down to undo the ties at his trousers. He slipped beneath the soft cloth to tease at his own flesh, which was already half-aroused at the idea of simply being in Qui-Gon's bed. He titled his head to the side and breathed deeply of his master's scent, which still lingered on the bedclothes.

Xanatos had just gotten to the best part, the fantasy where Qui-Gon declared his lust for his padawan and proceeded to show it by going down on him, when he heard the door to the main room slide open. He sat up hurriedly and put his clothing to rights. What was Qui-Gon doing home so early?

Then a figure appeared in the doorway to Qui-Gon's bedroom. It was not Qui-Gon.

"Ah, masturbating in master's bed. Good to see Qui-Gon's brought you up right." The voice was sarcastic.

"Master Dooku!" Xanatos shrieked, leaping from the bed and standing at attention. His tunics fell below his waist and covered his still unfastened trousers. "H-how did you get past the lock?"

"That was not difficult for a Jedi Master." Dooku crept closer, raising one hand to stroke the padawan's cheek gently. "What's wrong, Xan?"

Xanatos took a step back. "Master?" he asked, his voice trembling.

"Relax, Xan. You are quite a lovely thing. But then, you must know that, don't you?" Dooku moved closer, cupping the padawan's face between his hands. "So pretty. I bet you bend over so prettily for your master."

"What? No!" Xanatos pulled back. He drew himself up coldly. "Master Dooku, I believe it best that you leave immediately."

Dooku merely smiled at him. Xanatos fought to keep from shuddering at that smile, which promised nothing good for him. He dove to the side and got around Dooku, heading for the doorway.

"Stop." The word was a Force command and Xanatos could no more resist than he could move.

Dooku's hands crept up his back and Xanatos couldn't even cringe away from his cold touch. "You want me to touch you."

"I want you to touch me," Xanatos found himself repeating. He began to lose himself and he grasped onto his control with every bit of strength he had. "No!"

"Stubborn, aren't you," Dooku murmured. He made a quick gesture and Xanatos felt searing pain in his mind.

Dooku was /inside/ somehow, ensuring his words would be obeyed. "You want this," the master whispered as he quickly stripped the boy of his tunics.

Xanatos shivered, feeling himself harden under Dooku's touch. He struggled to remain aware, to not lose himself in the Force command. He couldn't resist, couldn't deny Dooku's voice, but he would remember.

"That's it. Off with your leggings," Dooku crooned, his voice low and melodic as his hands reached down and grasped the boy's penis. He tugged gently, running his fingers up and down the length until the padawan groaned at his touch. "Very good. You have a pleasant voice. Now, let's put that mouth to good use. Kneel."

Xanatos dropped to his knees, tears stinging his eyes. He didn't want to do this, but his entire body ached to please. He needed to please Dooku. His hands moved forward, and they seemed to belong to someone else as he watched himself undo the ties on the master's trousers. He lifted the heavy sex from its confines and gazed up at the master for instruction.

"Ah, just like that," Dooku murmured, guiding Xanatos' head into position.

The padawan moved to his task, taking quick licks that filled his mouth with the taste of bitter saltiness. Xanatos tried to hurry, thinking that if he brought the master to climax quickly, then this entire scene would be over. He engulfed Dooku's penis in his mouth, and began to work the hard organ. The master pushed his head away. "Eager little thing. I'll give you what you want then. Climb onto the bed."

Again, he couldn't resist, but with each movement he craved giving in. His cock hung hard and heavy between his legs, aching for relief. Xanatos knew he could not climax without Dooku's permission, his arousal itself was only Dooku's creation. That did not ease the pain or frustration. He burned for it, his swollen member red and dripping, as he crawled into the bed, positioning himself on his hands and knees.

He felt Dooku creep up behind him, and the rasp of cloth against his naked backside. The master obviously did not plan on undressing beyond the baring of his erection. He felt Dooku pressing against his opening and realized that his earlier oral actions were the only preparation he was to receive.

It burned, it hurt and he wanted to pull away, to deny this act. His arms trembled slightly as he struggled to move them beyond the command implanted in his mind. But Dooku was already murmuring words in his ear, forestalling any further rebellion.

Xanatos leaned back into the thrusts, needing that final connection, the pleasure that spiked up inside him, jolting his spine. Just a little bit more… "Come," the voice said into his ear. And he did, an explosive orgasm that was nearly painful, his balls drawing up and his muscles clenching. He heard Dooku grunt behind him and felt warmth deep inside him, then dripping down his thighs, as the master withdrew none too gently.

He collapsed onto the bed, now free to move and to cry, as he sobbed into the pillows beneath him.

"Sleep," Dooku's voice came again at his ear and once again he could not refuse. "Sleep and forget…."

When Xanatos woke up, he was enveloped in familiar loving arms. /Master!/ he thought, confused, looking up to see Qui-Gon's well-loved face, though his master's bright blue eyes were filled with tears. "Padawan." Qui-Gon choked out, rubbing the back of Xanatos' head gently.

Where was he? He looked around, confused. Why was he in Qui-Gon's bedroom? "What happened?" he asked, surprised that his voice sounded so raw.

Qui-Gon stiffened. "I was hoping you could tell me, Xan."

Xanatos cringed at the familiar nickname, though he wasn't sure why. He shook the grogginess from his mind and realized that he was wrapped in his master's robe and nothing else. Qui-Gon held him on the edge of his master's bed and he could smell blood in the air. Blood and something else…

"I returned early this morning," Qui-Gon explained. "And found you like this. How could this have happened?" his voice rumbled with rage.

"Master?" Xanatos trembled.

"Easy, padawan, this, this isn't your fault." Qui-Gon realized his error and went back to soothing his apprentice.

Dazed, Xanatos murmured, "Oh, no, the common room's a mess. I'm sorry, I should go clean it up…." He tried to stand, but master held him tightly.

Qui-Gon frowned, "The only place you're going, Padawan, is to the healers."

No, no, he didn't want them to see, to know, this must be kept secret. Don't tell the other Jedi. "No," he croaked out. "Master, please. I don't want anyone to know."

Qui-Gon sighed, then clutched his apprentice tightly. "Very well, my padawan, but you must listen to me and all will be well."

Xanatos leaned his head on Qui-Gon's shoulder and drifted off to sleep. His master was home, now all would be well.

Part 3

Xanatos seemed to come back to himself, his telling over. His blue eyes were bright as they met Obi-Wan's from across the room. "I didn't remember for a long time. I was just angry, so very angry and I didn't understand why."

Obi-Wan shook his head, as if shaking his thoughts. This, this was too much to absorb, too much to believe. Dooku had been rotten for how long? And the Jedi never even knew? He was still revered as a great Jedi, despite his leaving the order. He had to find some explanation for this. "If Qui-Gon had placed a memory block in your mind, then how can you remember all this?" he challenged.

Xanatos shrugged. "Qui-Gon's dead. Often memory blocks created by a Jedi dissolve when they die."

"And you expect me to believe that Qui-Gon never reported the assault on his own padawan to the council?" Obi-Wan snapped coldly, almost arrogantly.

Xanatos seemed to flinch and turned away from Obi-Wan. He stood and began to pace the room once more. "Dooku was his /master/. What could he do? And I had begged him to tell no one."

Obi-Wan opened his shields, just a bit, and nearly recoiled at the waves of pain that emanated from Xanatos. He felt slightly guilty at his first instinct to doubt. But he couldn't help it, Yoda's voice still haunted his mind: "Clouds everything, the dark side does."

"Do you think there's a Sith running the Senate?" Obi-Wan asked suddenly.

Xanatos paused in his pacing, just along the window that overlooked much of Corurscant. "How should I know? You wanted to know about Dooku and I've told you. I don't know anything else."

Obi-Wan stood from his chair and joined the failed Jedi at the window. He placed one hand on the plasti-glass, as if reaching out for the city. "If Qui-Gon still lived…"

"Then we wouldn't be having this conversation." Xanatos snapped. "I wouldn't remember the entire sordid scene and you'd be off being the perfect Jedi."

He frowned. "Do you think that's why you turned?"

Xanatos grimaced, his face reflecting lightly in the glass. "Don't do that. We're not friends, Kenobi."

"No." Obi-Wan watched the older man out of the corner of his eye. Xanatos was filled with tension, his body whipcord straight, and his lips pursed together. He realized that the pain he had sensed earlier had never been eased, never been released to the Force. Xanatos could not move on, and that surely explained why he had remained in hiding for the past 10 years, letting the corporations he had nurtured into being fall into bankruptcy and disrepute. Xanatos was grieving. "Let me help you," he murmured softly. Maybe he could show Xanatos some meditation techniques, guide him back to the light.

The older man reached up to clasp Obi-Wan's shoulder with his hand. He turned the Jedi around and touched his cheek with the other hand. "So soft," Xanatos murmured, fingering the scruff of Obi-Wan's beard gently. "Did you grow this to remind yourself of him?" He asked.

Yes, Obi-Wan thought, but said only, "Did you?" and reached up to touch the wealth of hair on Xanatos's face. It wasn't as soft as his own, but the prickly strands reminded him of Qui-Gon. He closed his eyes and tried to calm himself. This was not Qui-Gon, would never be Qui-Gon.

"You know, I wanted him," Xanatos was still speaking. "But he always pushed me away. Now I know why."

"No," Obi-Wan cried, aware he was about to take the most reckless action of his life. "He pushed me away too." And he let himself fall forward, until his lips were touching Xanatos's. The older man returned the kiss, their beards scraping together harshly. But Obi- Wan liked it, enjoyed the feeling of roughness against his own. He opened his mouth and let Xanatos explore inside.

Xanatos cradled Obi-Wan's head, his fingers caught in the thick red mane. He continued to nibble at the Jedi's lips, sucking at the delicious skin above his chin. Obi-Wan moaned slightly at the contact.

"Are, are we going to do this?" Obi-Wan breathed, finding himself caught in the older man's arms.

"Why not?" Xanatos murmured back, now having moved to nibble his ears. His hands slid around Obi-Wan's waist, trying to get under the tunic.

"Here," Obi-Wan slipped open the fastener and the shirt fell open. He shrugged out of it, allowing Xanatos to run his hands over his chest, to fondle and pinch at his nipples.

Xanatos laughed as he unclipped Obi-Wan's lightsaber, tossing it behind him before he moved to tackle the ties of the Jedi's trousers, which were already strained with the man's heavy arousal. He slid his fingers along Obi-Wan's shaft, growing accustomed to its velvety softness.

"Please," Obi-Wan groaned, thrusting his hips forward into the touch. He gripped Xanatos' shoulders, throwing his head back baring his lovely pale throat.

Xanatos couldn't resist and leaned forward to lick a path down the hollows of Obi-Wan's neck, even as his hand twisted inside the leggings, moving down now to tease the sac beneath.

Suddenly Xantos pulled away, leaving Obi-Wan aching and bereft. "Take those off," he commanded, quickly undoing the ties at his own trousers and letting them fall. He kicked them off along with his boots as he moved to the kitchen, searching desperately through the drawers.

Puzzled, Obi-Wan obeyed, shivering at the sudden touch of the cool air over his stiff arousal.

Xanatos appeared again, pulling his shirt over his head. He had what looked to be a bottle of oil in one hand. "Turn around," he breathed.

Obi-Wan shuddered again, this time at the erotic tones in Xan's voice, as he turned and braced himself against the window. This was what the older man wanted, he knew. To take him as he faced the Coruscant landscape. He felt Xan's hands at his back, kneading the skin of his buttocks, before spreading him.

Something warm and slick was pressed into his opening and he bore down upon it, stretching himself on Xanatos's fingertip. He was just as hungry for this, demanding the taking, as he leaned as far as he could, pushing his ass into the air.

"Easy," Xan coaxed, pushing Obi-Wan's legs open wider, until the young man was spread out invitingly against the window.

Obi-Wan grunted as he was entered in one long smooth stroke. Yes, this was it, this was exactly what he needed. He moaned and pushed back again, meeting each thrust. Xanatos slid in and out of his body with ease, as if they were meant to do this together. He moved backward eagerly, changing the angle of penetration just slightly, just enough to ensure that Xan hit his sweet spot with each stroke. He moaned at the spikes of pleasure that crept up his spine. He wondered if he could come just from this.

He didn't get the opportunity to find out, as Xanatos snaked one hand around and gently pumped at his cock. "Come," the older man murmured in his ear, and Obi-Wan did, his orgasm pouring out of him intensely, splattering against the window.

Xanatos grunted, and liquid heat filled Obi-Wan. He slid down the window, till he was braced on his knees, the older man's arms still around him. "Force," he whispered, leaning back to kiss Xan again.

Sunlight trickled through the room and settled on his face. Obi-Wan swatted at the invading light, before giving into the inevitable and opening his eyes. He was curled against a large pillow, still on the floor of the tiny apartment. Xanatos was nowhere to be found.

He stood and put his clothes to rights, fighting a momentary stream of panic when he couldn't at first locate his lightsaber. He found it behind the couch, where Xan had thrown it the night before. Clipping it to his belt, he sighed. A quick sweep of the apartment revealed nothing. Not a trace, not even a Force signature, of the failed Jedi remained.

Obi-Wan straightened his tunic and checked the time. If he didn't hurry, he wouldn't be able to change before he met his padawan's shuttle, and that wouldn't do at all. What kind of example would that show? Jedi did not form attachments, but they had hot sex with the failed apprentices of their former master's? No, not the example he wanted to set at all.

"Good-bye, Xan," he said to the room, knowing somehow he would never see that man again. The evening had left him with more questions than ever before. One thing he was sure of.

He would find Dooku and bring him to justice, for the memory of Qui- Gon.

End