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Trials

by Trinity (trinityk@mindspring.com)

Email: trinityk@mindspring.combr> or trinity@trinityslash.com
Archive: My page http://trinityslash.com, MA, all others please ask
Pairing: Qui-Gon/Obi-Wan
Rating: NC-17
Category: Angst, Romance, First Time, AU
Disclaimer: The Jedi belong to Lucas
Summary: Sequel to Saying Goodbye. Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon help a city besieged by a plague.
Feedback: Will be cherished!
Thanks: To M.Fae Glasgow, Robin, Nansi, and Ki for inspiration and betas.

People often ask what we do when we're not being Jedi, and I'm always at a loss for what to say. Jedi are never not Jedi; it's who we are. The Force touches us always; it guides, inspires, loves, demands. Not that we would have it any other way. For Obi-Wan and I, being Jedi is the same as being alive.

Just because we left the Jedi Order does not mean we were no longer Jedi. Far from it.

We had been away from the order for a year, though it seemed like much less time. Word soon spread about the rogue Jedi wandering the galaxy, and before we knew it, our services were in high demand. People contacted us with requests to perform assassinations, witness weddings, resolve petty disputes and family squabbles, conduct religious ceremonies, and father children. If we owned a doorstep, people would have left their babies on it.

We had many legitimate requests as well, and it was hard to choose among these. Should we help a planetary system defeat the well-armed pirates attacking their trade routes? Or stop a government from completely destroying a species residing on their planet? Or prevent a war between two planets capable of annihilating each other?

As Jedi, we trusted the Force to guide us, and sometimes the Force is very clear. As soon as the transmission came in from Caroon, I knew we had to go there, no matter how much I wish I could ignore their request.

"A plague's hit Maaya, one of their smaller cities," I explained to Obi-Wan as he boarded the small transport we now called home. "They've been able to hold the quarantine, but the disease is spreading and people are panicking. The mayor is afraid the local government will collapse."

"A flesh-eating disease," said Obi-Wan, reading over my shoulder. "It sounds like that outbreak on Damaris four years ago."

"Yes, everyone who contracted it died after days of agony."

Blinking twice, he continued, "They don't seem to know much about this one - what causes it, how it's spread..."

"They told us bio-suits won't provide protection," I said.

He placed a hand on my shoulder, balancing himself so he could lean forward to have a better look at the screen. "They don't have a cure," he said. "And they're probably not even close to finding one."

"The Jedi Council denied their request for help," I said. "They're outside of the republic; no senate representation."

"At least they promised to pay us," said Obi-Wan.

I ignored that. We had come to understand funding problems far too well in the last year. "We can't let it spread outside the planet."

Obi-Wan nodded, moving away. "I'll set a course for Caroon."

"I'll check our medical supplies."

It took little time to choose a few fast-acting serums that might protect us against any number of flesh-eating diseases. There was only enough for Obi-Wan and I, and scarcely that. We would have to restock our medical supplies after this mission. I should have been more careful in keeping track of and budgeting for them; good medical supplies were expensive and hard to find, and we had neither the time nor the money to get more now.

Obi-Wan smiled as I injected the three serums into his neck. I let my fingers brush against his hair, noticing how long it had grown since I last trimmed it. Streaked blond from a dozen different suns, it was just long enough to reach his shoulders, and somehow always managed to look neatly brushed. I wanted to run my fingers through it, feel its softness as I pulled him to me... But I couldn't, wouldn't risk it, and I pulled my hand away from him before he noticed its presence.

The night we left the Jedi Order, Obi-Wan and I shared a kiss and a warm embrace. Both were chaste, a sharing between two men bound together as friends, an oath that we would stay together even though we were no longer master and padawan, no longer a part of the Jedi Order. The kiss lasted only a moment, but in that moment I realized that I loved him, loved him in more ways than a master should love his apprentice. I wish I could believe it meant more to him as well, but I refused to allow myself that delusion.

I have no doubt that he loves me. He shows me every time he makes my favorite meals when it's his turn to cook, spends extra money for luxuries he knows I'd never buy for myself, and patiently listens to me rant about shortcomings of the Jedi Order. He loves me as a friend, as a fellow Jedi, and as a former master.

As he took the syringe from my hand and motioned for me to sit down, I wondered how disgusted he would be if he knew the many ways I loved him and wanted to love him. How would he feel if he knew I wanted to slide from my seat, kneel in front of him, unfasten his trousers and take him into my mouth? Or rip off his clothes, spread his legs and drive my own hardness into him until he screamed in ecstasy?

His hand was on my shoulder now, steadying me as he injected the serum into my neck. It would be so easy to wrap my arms around him and pull him into my lap. So easy to open up his tunic and kiss and lick and make love to him. So easy to completely ruin our relationship, to destroy the friendship and trust we spent so many years building.

"Worried about the mission?" he asked, bringing a quick halt to my fantasy.

Looking up, I tried to read his thoughts, hoping to find something… more. But all I could see was that he looked concerned, mildly amused that I had become lost in thought. He stood a proper distance from me, restrained, not reaching, touching me only where he needed to, just as he always had. His body language said friend, comrade. There was no way I would risk what we had over something as trivial as sex, no matter how much I longed to hold him in my arms and call him lover.

"We're almost there," Obi-Wan called out from the cockpit a few hours later. "I've sent a message so they can make arrangements for us to land."

"You won't have much time to get the transport into the hangar," I replied, climbing into the seat next to him. "They won't keep the docking doors open any longer than they have to."

"Would you like to land it yourself?" asked Obi-Wan, quirking an eyebrow, trying to keep the smirk from his face.

"That's all right, my young apprentice, you need the practice," I replied in my most solemn, masterly tone of voice.

The landing did prove tricky; Obi-Wan managed to hover the transport at the doors and punch our engines at just the right moment to get the ship through. A tiny carrier tried to escape but slammed into the doors as they closed, disintegrating on contact. Their deaths caused a momentary, too familiar disturbance in the Force, and I mourned them, trying not to see this as an omen for the rest of the mission. Heavily armed crews moved in immediately to clean up the mess, which did nothing to halt my sense of unease.

Obi-Wan and I disembarked, and were immediately struck by the breathtaking beauty of the Maaya. I've seen many a domed city, but the gigantic transsteel bubbles that sealed Maaya against the poisonous gasses outside were by far the most beautiful. This city was built on a cliff, half of it under sea-level, and the buildings and the translucent bubble walls reflected the slowly swirling colors of Caroon's uninhabitable atmosphere and toxic ocean. As ethereal as hyperspace and twice as lovely, it was an odd backdrop for the well-armed city guards, who were stationed around the hangar.

Minutes after our arrival, an older, dignified man approached us. "You must be Qui-Gon Jinn and Obi-Wan Kenobi," he said.

"Yes," we answered together, giving a cursory bow to the gentleman.

"I'm Tesla Bajorek, the mayor of Maaya," he said, his voice straining as he led us to a waiting aircar. "Thank you for coming - you have my deepest gratitude. If you don't mind, I'd like to get to business immediately."

Activating a hologram, Tesla started educating us. The hangar we entered was the only way to leave the planet from the city, but there were two additional exits - gates for underwater tubes leading to nearby cities. Maaya had already been divided into quarantined and healthy areas; not that it seemed to matter.

"We've tried to contain it. We've tried hermetically sealed bio-suits, quarantines, inoculations... nothing seems to work. We don't even know what's causing the disease."

"How do you know when someone has contracted the condition?" I asked.

The mayor looked away, closing his eyes. "Delirium is the first symptom. That lasts a few days. Then their flesh starts rotting," he said, pausing for a moment to regain composure. "They die after that. Once the rotting begins, there is no hope."

"Are you euthenizing the patients?" asked Obi-Wan.

"When we can," answered Tesla, rubbing his temple with his middle finger. "Most of our medical staff are busy trying to find a way to stop the disease. Laymen don't want to be near the sick. The best we can do is to move the ill into quarantine areas and try to make them as comfortable as possible.

"The healthy citizens are afraid, and many have been trying to escape," Tesla continued, taking a deep breath. "It's completely understandable, to want to leave before you contract the illness, but that cannot be allowed."

"No," I said quietly. "We mustn't let the disease to spread outside the city."

Tesla nodded slowly. "I'm afraid for the citizens as well. They cannot be blamed for wanting to save their lives and the lives of their families. It's very important that they are stopped, but not harmed."

"Of course," said Obi-Wan, his voice steady and reassuring.

Within moments the aircar pulled into the mayoral mansion. We were led to a large reception room that had been transformed into their headquarters for the crisis. Uniformed men and women were monitoring holograms displaying strategic areas of the city and dispatching guards where they were needed. Calling for attention, Tesla introduced us, telling the dispatchers the Jedi were to be called at any sign of trouble. Greeting us warmly, they accepted Tesla's orders without question, despite the fact we wore simple tunics in shades of green and blue instead of the traditional Jedi robes.

After the formalities were taken care of, Obi-Wan and I thought it would be a good time to familiarize ourselves with the city. We decided to split up; there was much ground to cover, and the populace wasn't well armed. We each felt confident we could handle any spontaneous outbreaks alone. Jedi, no matter how they might be dressed, had a reputation for working miracles, and there was always a good chance that just knowing that we were there, would help calm the people.

The citizens were under martial law, so few people walked the streets, but I saw faces pressed against the giant windows of the private homes. Fear permeated the atmosphere - fear of dying, feared of watching loved ones die, fear of knowing there was nothing anyone could do about it.

The scene at the gates and hangar were worse. The sheer volume was almost painful, so many people, individuals, families, crying, begging, shrieking, trying to bribe officials to let them leave the city, swearing to guards on their mother's soul that they were healthy, hadn't even seen a sick person, there wasn't a thing wrong with them. All around me, there were the endless sounds of desperation, and worst, as always, were the people not there for themselves, but begging someone, anyone, to take their child, save their baby, please, please, please.

But the answer was always the same: an unequivocal no. We couldn't let the disease spread. It was bad enough that so many here would suffer, and die, we couldn't condemn anyone else to this fate.

Some people's desperation turned to panic, and there were sporadic scuffles, small insurgencies that were dealt with swiftly, and a fairly steady stream of people being taken away. The guards, I noticed with concern, were already at the stage of not wanting to risk touching people, the tips of their weapons the only contact they would have with the citizens. The mayor was right to fear riots.

I had just finished calming a hysterical family when I felt Obi-Wan's presence through our training bond. We rarely used it - spending so much time in close quarters made it unnecessary - and I had almost forgotten how good it felt to have him in my mind. We weren't able to share words, only feelings, and I felt his concern for my well being. My heart ached for a moment before I sent back reassurances, carefully masking my inappropriate feelings. How I longed to tell him all that he really meant to me.

After spending the day learning the city's layout and getting to know the guards, we decided to meet up back at the mansion. Falling into step next to me, Obi-Wan flashed a smile and summarized the day's events. "Things are under control," he added, placing his hand on my shoulder. "You shouldn't worry so much. We'll get through this."

I managed to return a half-smile. "We should stagger our sleep shifts," I said, "To ensure one of us is awake and ready at all times."

"Good idea. I'll take the first shift and let you sleep first," he offered. "You look like you could use some rest."

"You're not implying I'm old, are you padawan?" I teased. "You looked a little out-of- sorts yourself." Which was a lie. Obi-Wan could crawl through a swamp and emerge looking dignified enough to attend a dinner party.

"Yes, master. I'm not sure how you can stand up straight at your age," he said.

I was about add a witty response when I noticed a Jedi talking to Tesla.

"Cyril?" Obi-Wan said rather loudly as he walked ahead of me into the control room.

Cyril? Surely not Cyril Abbott, Mace's former padawan. If the Council had refused aid, what was Abbott doing here? I gave Obi-Wan a look of thanks for his warning, and bowed to Knight Abbott with the smallest degree politeness would allow, every inch the omniscient Jedi Master.

Cyril barely glanced at us. He turned to Tesla and said, "You realize these two aren't Jedi?"

Not Jedi? I opened my mouth to deliver a scathing retort, but was interrupted. "They're here to help - it doesn't matter who they work for," said Tesla, his shoulders slumping from fatigue.

"The older one was kicked out of the order for insubordination. The younger one didn't even complete his trials," said Cyril. He finally turned toward us. "A good thing, too, I don't think he's capable of passing them."

"It's very nice to see you again, too, Cyril," said Obi-Wan, barely able to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.

"We were just talking about splitting up shifts," I said, placing my arm on Obi-Wan's shoulder, a gesture to let him know we would deal with Cyril later. "Perhaps you should take the first night shift while Obi-Wan and I rest and get something to eat."

"An excellent idea," said Tesla, calling for a droid to bring us something to eat.

"I don't take orders from cast-outs and failures," responded Cyril. "One of you should be patrolling now. You don't seem very concerned about the situation."

"The city's under control for now," replied Obi-Wan, gesturing to the holomonitors next to the wall as he took a seat at the makeshift dinner table. "This might be a long mission, and it's important to stay rested and well fed. It's not taking orders, Cyril, it's just common sense."

Scowling, Cyril mumbled something unintelligible under his breath and stalked out of the room. Tesla followed, leaving Obi-Wan and I alone. Shaking his head slowly, Obi-Wan motioned for me to sit across from him.

"Were we ever that arrogant?" he asked.

"Probably," I replied, taking a mouthful of Maayan cooking.

"I thought the Jedi refused Tesla's request for help."

"They must have changed their minds. Maybe the chancellor has a vacation home here. Or perhaps Tesla lied to us about the Jedi refusing his request."

"Well, Tesla's not stupid," said Obi-Wan. "But I can't believe the Jedi sent only one knight, and Cyril of all people."

"You know how it is, Obi-Wan. Ten thousand Jedi, millions of planets. The Council has to make choices."

He quirked an eyebrow. "They always found enough Jedi to witness weddings and attend religious ceremonies. I'm glad we can choose our missions now. But sometimes I wonder if I left too early."

"Do you regret leaving, Obi-Wan?" I asked, worried that he was thinking of leaving me. My heart began to pound as I forced myself to continue. "I'm sure they would accept you, if you wanted to go back."

"No, it's not that," he said quickly, reaching across the table to briefly touch my hand in a reassuring gesture. A chill traveled up my spine, and I almost dropped my fork. Did he realize the effect he had on me? "I'm glad I left with you. I couldn't imagine having another master, and seeing how arrogant Cyril is..."

"Cyril was always arrogant,"

His laugh was tense. "And with little to back up that arrogance. But I wonder if he was right?"

"About what?" I asked.

He shrugged, putting down his fork and stretching his legs. Neither of us moved when one of his legs brushed up against mine. "Do you think I would have passed my trials?"

His trials? Of course he would wonder about those. Why hadn't I thought of it before? "A very legitimate question," I finally answered.

He tilted his head, presumably waiting for a legitimate answer.

"I believe you would have passed your trials," I continued, "But that won't convince you, will it?"

"Your confidence means a lot to me, but..."

"But you need to feel the accomplishment yourself."

"Right." He chewed on his lip and tilted his head. "I'm not going to back to the Order, but I'd like to know for certain."

He wasn't going back to the Order. He wasn't going to leave me. "I had no idea it bothered you, Obi-Wan, but I promise you we'll do something about it as soon as we can."

"After the mission?" he asked, hopeful.

"After the mission." I was certain I could think of something by then.

Obi-Wan, Cyril, and I spent the next few days patrolling the city, supporting the guards, preventing citizens from escaping and rioting, and trying to boost morale. Although we weren't taxed by the fighting, the fear and despair wore on us. The citizens were close to panicking, and even though city officials tried to keep the sick out of sight, we would often see glimpses of people stumbling through the street, trying to hide the rotting flesh that doomed their existence.

Cyril, who was more accustomed to quiet research, did not adjust well to the rigors of this mission. He made errors of judgment, and several times Obi-Wan and I had to come to his assistance when he couldn't handle a situation. No doubt embarrassed about not being up to the task, he responded by berating Obi-Wan every time he had the chance. Obi- Wan bore the insults, at first with grace, then humor, then with sarcasm. I might have spoken to Cyril about it, but I was feeling none too patient with him myself.

On the fourth night of our stay, I was woken by a distress call from Obi-Wan minutes after I fell asleep. Grabbing my lightsaber, I rushed to help, thankful I had fallen asleep in my day clothes.

Obi-Wan had called me from the west gate, one of the underwater passages leading to another city. Speeding along, I wondered what it was that he and Cyril couldn't handle alone. Obi-Wan was an accomplished fighter, in many ways more skilled than I. Whatever was giving him trouble would be a serious problem indeed.

Approaching the gate, I readied my 'saber. I prepared to jump off the bike and join the fray, but was stunned for a moment when I saw what was happening. Cyril was battling Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan could easily have beaten Cyril, but was in a defensive posture, trying not to hurt Cyril as he deflected the blows and prevented Cyril from advancing. Igniting my saber, I rushed forward into the battle. Cyril backed off, trying to face both of us, waving his saber back and forth. Obi-Wan and I poised to strike... when Cyril suddenly collapsed.

We rushed forward to catch him, and as Obi-Wan held up his head, the reason for his behavior became apparent. His left ear had rotted half off, leaving holes and black tissue where cartilage should be. Pulling his upper tunic open, we found more rotting flesh.

I shook my head in amazement. "He seemed fine this morning," I said.

"I can't believe we didn't notice anything," he said, delicately picking up Cyril. "Here, help me balance him on my bike. We should get him back as quickly as possible."

One of the wings of the mayoral mansion was serving as a hospital and laboratory. Obi- Wan and I took Cyril there and handed him over to a medical technician. She took one look at Obi-Wan and me, pushed us into a decontamination chamber, then took blood samples.

"We've discovered a way to detect the disease in it's early stages," she explained. "You two are clean. Now, get some rest, immediately! Both of you."

We backed away, promising to go straight to our assigned room. Looking at Obi-Wan, I saw signs of deep fatigue in my former padawan.

"You look pretty tired yourself," he said, smiling as if he read my thoughts.

"She was right. I think we both need some sleep--right now. No shifts."

He nodded. "They'll call us if they need us." He took my arm and I let him lead me to our room in the opposite wing in the mansion. I was tired - so tired I stumbled as I walked across the marble floor of the mansion. So tired I fell into bed, fully clothed - so tired that I actually reached out for Obi-Wan, and blurted, "Come here, Obi-Wan. Sleep with me." I felt the weight of his body against mine as my world faded to black.

I slowly came back to consciousness, realizing the pleasant sensation I was waking to was Obi-Wan sleeping in my arms. He was resting on my shoulder, his face in my neck, his morning erection pressing against my hip. I was careful not to move, wanting to enjoy the sensation as long as possible.

I began fantasizing about caressing his body, feeling his hot skin under my hands. In my fantasies he would welcome my advances and return my passion with equal eagerness. In my reality, though, it was enough to watch him sleep in my arms. It would have to be enough.

Obi-Wan stirred, waking instantly as he always did when we were on a mission. I panicked, thinking he would be embarrassed at his state of arousal, or be appalled when he noticed my erection, but he didn't seem uncomfortable in the slightest. Instead, he smiled at me with a look of pure contentment, love without expectation, and in that moment I couldn't remember what I was afraid of, why I ever thought I shouldn't tell him how I loved him, why I shouldn't lean forward and kiss him...

What ever might have happened in that moment was interrupted by a call on our commlink. Cyril was dying. We quickly climbed out of the narrow bed and made our way to the hospital wing. We were surprised to find the mood optimistic, if not cheerful. The same medical technician we met last night greeted us again this morning.

"I'm very sorry about your friend," she said. "We think he could hang on for several more days, but he's in a great deal of pain. We believe it would be cruel not to help him along, so unless your customs forbid euthanasia..."

Obi-Wan shook his head.

"You should know," she continued, "that he was very helpful in our research. We wondered why the disease advanced so quickly in him, and we believe we made a breakthrough for a cure. The entire staff has been working on it all night. All we have to do is test it."

Small comfort for Cyril's suffering, but better than nothing-and at least we could ease him into the Force. "It's good that his death will have some meaning," I said.

Obi-Wan and I entered the small room where Cyril lay dying. The stench of death was almost overwhelming, but Obi-Wan and I bore it without complaint. We couldn't let a fellow Jedi die alone, even if we were no longer part of the Order. Cyril woke as Obi- Wan took his hand.

Leaning close, I whispered into what was left of his ear, "You did well, Cyril. They found a cure for the disease because of you."

He managed a nod, motioning for Obi-Wan to come closer. I couldn't hear what Cyril whispered to him, but Obi-Wan replied 'thank you' in Cyril's native language. The technician injected the poison into his bloodstream, and I placed my hand lightly on Cyril's chest, murmured a blessing as he closed his eyes. His head sank into the pillow, and he became one with the Force.

As we exited the room, I pulled Obi-Wan into an embrace, for my own comfort as much as his. We're both accustomed to seeing death, but watching one of our own pass into the Force was always difficult. To my relief, Obi-Wan hadn't reconsidered this morning's closeness; he returned my embrace, leaning his head against my shoulder. We stayed that way for a while - it felt good just to hold him.

Our embrace was interrupted by a call on my commlink. "Some trouble at one of the gates," I told Obi-Wan. "It doesn't sound serious, I'll handle it alone."

"Qui-Gon! You're just in time. They're about to test the treatment."

"Then it's true - they found a cure?"

"Of sorts," answered one of the biochemists. "We believe we can beat the disease in its early stages and prevent people from contracting it."

"You see," continued the other chemist, "In its early stages, the microvirus attaches to the body's midichlorians. After a few days it infects the flesh, but for a while, the midichlorians are the only host."

"That's why Cyril succumbed to it so quickly," added Obi-Wan, "his high midichlorian count accelerated the disease."

"So," I said slowly, "you've found something to kill the microvirus?"

"Not exactly," answered the first chemist. "But we believe we have a way to destroy the midichlorians. And if we destroy the midichlorians, there'll be nothing to host the microvirus."

I shuddered - destroying midichlorians. I couldn't imagine losing my connection with the Force. "Does it work?" I asked.

"We have to test it, then we can produce inoculations for everyone," said the first biochemist.

Obi-Wan smiled, and my stomach twisted in a knot. "Obi-Wan, don't even think about it!"

"They need someone with a high count, Qui-Gon, otherwise the test will take too long."

"I won't let you do this!"

"I thought you'd feel that way, but it's too late. I've already let them infect me with the virus."

"How could you agree to let them destroy you connection to the Force?"

"It's my duty, Qui-Gon," he said simply.

I was upset, desperate, wishing there was a way to trade places with him. "Is this how you would throw away your life, Obi-Wan?"

"No, Qui-Gon, this is how I live my life." He gazed into my eyes. "Trust in the Force."

He was right. I should have complete faith in the Force, and in his decision. But I couldn't deal with this rationally - I loved him.

"Gentlemen," said the second biochemist. "We need to proceed."

They sat Obi-Wan down and attached two monitoring tabs to his neck. "The first will measure his midichlorian count, the second will measure the presence of the disease," they explained. The midichlorian reading was fifteen thousand, as it should be, and the microvirus reading showed the vague level of 'high.'

I couldn't watch as they injected him; instead I looked into my Obi-Wan's eyes and concentrated on our bond. It wouldn't be there for much longer; I wanted to fully experience every last moment of Obi-Wan's mind entwined with mine.

"It's starting to take effect," reported one of the biochemists. The readings showed Obi- Wan's midichlorian count falling, along with the microvirus reading. Several minutes later, they both read zero. My heart constricted, my throat tightened, and before I could stop myself, I had sent reassurances through the bond that could no longer exist...

And was stunned to feel the reassurances returned.

"Our bond," I said to Obi-Wan. "It's still open!"

Kneeling in front of him, I took his hand. Warmth, joy, love - unabashed love - flowed back and forth. We reveled in the feeling for a while, enjoying what we had thought we would lose forever.

"How do you feel?" I whispered, blinking away my unshed tears of joy.

"Wonderful," he answered. "I can still feel it! It's still there--somehow, I still have a connection to the Force. It feels as strong as it always has."

"His midichlorian count is rising again," reported one of the biochemists.

"Interesting," answered the other.

Interesting? It was astonishing.

"The disease level?"

"Still at zero."

I felt Obi-Wan's relief as intensely as my own.

Just then, we both received calls on our commlinks; another skirmish was starting. We rushed to the hangar and found a small-scale riot underway. Watching Obi-Wan in action was a joy. I'd forgotten how breathtakingly beautiful he looked when he used the Force in battle. There was so much I had taken for granted with Obi-Wan - that he would always be by my side, that we would always share the Force together, that he would never understand my true feelings for him. I vowed to never be complacent again, not when it came to him.

It didn't take long to get the rioters under control. We were successful, bringing an end to the fighting with only one non-fatal injury. Obi-Wan's connection with the Force seemed as strong as ever, our bond stronger than I remember it.

When we finally returned, the biochemists were waiting for us; they wanted to check Obi-Wan once again, almost as much as I wanted them to check him and confirm that the midichlorians were the only things returning to his bloodstream. "The disease is completely gone, but his midichlorian count is back up to fifteen thousand," they reported.

"How can that be?" I asked. "And why didn't he lose his connection with the Force?"

They both shrugged. "Maybe the midichlorians don't give you control over the Force after all," said one.

"Maybe they're just a residue that the body creates when it uses the Force," suggested the other.

"If so, then we need to develop a time-release inoculation, to make sure there are no midichlorians for several days," said the first, as they both started walking away, more concerned with the microvirus than the revelation about midichlorians and the Force.

"I told you to have faith, Qui-Gon," said Obi-Wan, now that we were alone.

"Yes you did," I replied.

I wanted to tell him how much I loved him, but the words stuck in my throat. I wanted to apologize for wasting time, wanted to discuss the fears I still had, but I did none of that. Instead, I tilted his face toward mine and kissed him. It was a brief kiss; I backed away to look into Obi-Wan's eyes, to gage his reaction. He responded by drawing me into an embrace.

I kissed him again, this time licking his lips with my tongue, gasping in joy when he let me enter. We tasted each other for several minutes, enjoying the new sensations. I was taking so much pleasure in just holding him next to my body and running my fingers through his hair.

We were interrupted by a strange sound and pulled apart reluctantly. Tesla was standing next to us, clearing his throat.

"I'm sorry to interrupt," he said. The dark circles under his eyes couldn't hide the joy and relief in his face. "Thank you for helping us find a cure. We all owe you a great debt. We've started distributing the inoculations already."

"That's wonderful!" I replied, feeling Obi-Wan's hand slip into mine.

"We're going to hold the quarantine for a while longer, until we're sure the disease is defeated," he said, clasping his hands behind his back. "Oh, and I hear they want to name it after your friend, Cyril. Unless you prefer they name it after Obi-Wan?"

Obi-Wan replied quickly, "Let Cyril have that honor; after all, he gave his life for the cure."

"We will never forget what Cyril did for us," he said sincerely. He cleared his throat again, and continued, "One more piece of advice - if you two are going to, ahem, then I suggest you go somewhere a little more private. That sort of display may be all right on Coruscant, but some of our citizens frown on anything out of the ordinary."

"Of course," I replied, not letting go of Obi-Wan's hand.

Turning to leave, he smiled at us one more time and whispered, "Enjoy your evening, you've earned it."

As the door closed behind Obi-Wan, I grew shy once again. Did I imagine that kiss? Did I imagine my fingers running through his hair, his tongue in my mouth, his body pressed against mine? I looked away from him, and stifled a laughed. Is this how I avoided becoming intimate with Obi-Wan in the past year? By imagining he didn't love me, and avoiding him enough to make him believe I didn't love him? What a fool I was.

Striding forward, I gathered him loosely in my arms and kneeled before him, parting his tunic as I kissed his chest. "Obi-Wan," I said, nipping at his abdomen. "If there's any part of this you find disgusting..."

"Cyril's ear rotting off - I found that disgusting," he replied, trying to be funny as he ran his fingers through my hair. He gasped as I unfastened his trousers. "I've always wanted you to... ohhhh.... yes."

Always? Oh, more proof of my foolishness - I was not going to waste another instant. He tasted magnificent - stronger and sweeter than I imagined he would. The sensation of his hard cock in my mouth made my own groin twitch with need. I teased him mercilessly, taking him to the brink and backing off, again and again, until his legs buckled and I lowered him to the floor. He pulled me up to face him, fumbling with the fastenings on my tunic.

Our fingers touched when I reached down to help him strip me of my clothing, and we paused for a moment, just holding hands, gazing into each other's eyes, feeling each other's joy through our bond. Leaning forward, he whispered in my ear. "I've had this fantasy," he said. I could feel the heat of his blushing cheeks.

"I would very much like to hear it," I murmured, nuzzling his neck.

"It involves you, inside me, and..."

That was all the encouragement I needed. I quickly tugged off my own clothes and went to work on his. He lifted his hips as I pulled his trousers off, smiling wickedly as I positioned myself between his legs.

"Do you want to use one of the beds?" I asked.

"They're not beds, they're cots. Besides, I wouldn't want you to break either of them," he said, flashing me another wicked smile.

He drew his legs back, tilting his hips up, inviting me in. I felt giddy, realizing this was the man I never thought I could have, the man I thought I'd have to keep at arms length, and here he was, under me, begging me to fuck him senseless.

It didn't take long to prepare him - he was tight, probably a virgin, but he was willing, eager, insistent. He clutched my arms as I slid my cock into him. I almost came at that moment, feeling his tightness surround me, seeing desire in his eyes. I tried to make it last, but was soon overwhelmed with the sensation and consumed by our shared emotion. Obi-Wan came seconds after I did, crying out my name as he dug his fingernails into my shoulders.

I collapsed on him, laying my head on his chest, listening to his pounding heart and harsh breathing. I remained still, afraid that the slightest movement would disrupt the bliss, and I would wake up from this dream to find myself alone.

"Shall we go to bed now?" he asked softly.

I dared to look up. He smiled at me, practically glowing. "I'm quite comfortable here," I replied.

"Of course you are, you're on top of me," he said, grabbing a ticklish spot he shouldn't have known about. I laughed, rolling off of him. Taking my hand, he led me to the narrow bed we shared the night before. I fell asleep as soon as I felt him slide into my arms, waking only once to watch him before settling back into peaceful slumber.

The quarantine lasted twenty days after the population received inoculations. Tesla estimated the disease eradicated just under half of the population; a devastating toll by any measure. Despite the terrible suffering, our mission could still be measured something of a success: the disease did not spread outside the city, the population was not completely destroyed, and a cure was discovered. Obi-Wan and I were still alive.

Tesla paid us a large sum, enough to restock our medical supplies, repair our transport, and live comfortably for the next standard year. If we wanted, we could find a remote planet and take a long vacation. I tried to play a Serious Jedi Master when I suggested the idea to Obi-Wan, as he shifted our transport into hyperdrive.

"You're joking, right?" he replied.

Of course I was. We were Jedi, after all, and Jedi don't take vacations. Following the will of the Force is always more satisfying than trying to escape its demands.

"Besides," continued Obi-Wan, "there is the matter of my trials." He looked away from me, not wanting to burden me with a task that might be beyond my reach. He needn't have worried.

Taking his hand, I urged him to sit in the chair across from me. "Obi-Wan," I said carefully, "what did you think your trials would be like?"

"I'm not sure. I always thought they were a series of tests, given by the Council…"

"Sometimes, but only when necessary," I said, looking into his eyes to ensure he understood. "The Council prefers to let the Force choose the test."

He nodded, waiting for me to continue.

"You were willing to give up your connection to the Force to test an inoculation." My heart pounded as I remembered the agony of that moment. "The Force returned to you. I can think of no greater trial."

"So, that's it?" he asked.

"That's it? You regained the use of the Force after destroying your midichlorians. Had I not seen it, I wouldn't have believed it. You passed your trials, with honor," I said. "I just wish there was some higher rank I could bestow upon you."

He looked away, blinking. Squeezing my hand gently, he asked, "What were your trials like?"

"I had to make a choice, between the power of the dark side and the light. The situation doesn't matter, just the choosing."

"I see," he said, finally looking into my eyes. "I don't believe this mission was my trial."

I began to protest, but was stopped by another squeeze of the hand.

"I passed my trials when I decided to leave the Order and follow the Force."

He was on my lap now, straddling my legs, running his fingers through my hair. His lips were pressed to mine, saving me from trying to think of something meaningful to say. Breaking the kiss, he pressed his forehead against mine.

"So where are we going next?" he asked.

Words would not come. But the Force provided once again, in the form of a noisy distress call.

"A man named Tempii, from the Coriacea system," I said, glancing at the datascreen. "His people are being kidnapped and sold into slavery."

"I'll set our course for Coricea," said Obi-Wan, not moving from my lap.

"It's four days away. Perhaps we're getting a vacation after all."

He kissed me again, touching me with his lips, his hands his mind. I returned his touches, his love, his faith. On vacation, attending to duty, it didn't matter to me. Every day I spent with my Obi-Wan was a blessing.

End