Master Apprentice Archive Unraveled Quick search:

Unraveled

by RavenD (ravendreams@earthlink.net) and kimberlite (kimberlite@cox.net)

Archive: M_A, BiC, World of Pretty Boys, everyone else please ask

Authors' webpages: http://www.ravenswing.com/ravendreams and http://www.ravenswing.com/kimberlite

Series: Yes -- Sequel to Woven

Category: Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Rating: NC-17 for violence and graphic sex

Warnings: Violence, graphic and sometimes disturbing sexual images

Pairing: O/other, Q/other, Q/O

Spoilers: none

Summary: Qui-Gon searches for his lost padawan after the events of Woven.

Feedback: Pretty please, with sugar on top?

Disclaimers: The almighty Lucas owns everything. We own nothing. Happy?

Authors' Notes: Please be aware that this is truly a sequel to "Woven" and may not make a lot of sense without having read that fic.

RavenD:

When I began this project, I thought I needed kimberlite to beta for me. Not two paragraphs into it, I realized I needed her to write with me. Co-writing with her has been a truly joyous experience in collaboration. She entered into a little world I created and made it part of her own. Thank you.

I would also like to give thanks to my ever-patient and talented beta-readers. Mystique, you force me to remain true to my voice. Velma, I always know if you like it, I must be heading somewhere right. Liz, you are Beauty's muse.

kimberlite:

I was thrilled when RavenD asked me to share in her vision, and am grateful beyond words for the opportunity to work with such a talented and unique person. The entire process of writing this story has been exciting and wonderful. Thank you.

Part 1

Pain. He couldn't make it stop, couldn't hide from it, release it, breathe through it. His muscles clenched with this need, this unbearable heat.

He walked, nameless, bloody, lost, forgotten within the shattered singing of his own mind, slowly wandering down the damp alleys, looking for something he'd lost.

If he could only remember what that was.

Another bright bolt of pain ricocheted in his head and he dropped to his knees in the filth. Breath hitching in his chest, he crawled towards the shadows cast by bleak, gray buildings, avoiding the light. He curled into the wall of a building, wrapping the warm cloak he wore around him, trying to displace the shivers within him.

He slept, or at least he dreamed; he dreamed of gardens and home and peace and clean water and oh, he could remember being clean and dry and warm and safe and a time when there was no pain. Somewhere, once upon a time, when there was food and he could eat and a bed and blue eyes. Someone had blue eyes that smiled, someone who would have looked for him if he was lost and he was lost and so tired and hurting and the pain never went away, never let him breathe, nevernevernever...

"If you don't stop hitting your head on that wall, Beauty, they're gonna lock you up."

What? What was that? Did someone...

"Jessup's Upturned Nose, you're a sight, Beauty. Let me see your face."

He turned his face to the wall, away from the light; he couldn't stand the light.

"Too much sun for you, eh? That's pretty normal. Not to worry. I can fix you up, make it stop hurting."

He looked up into the shadowed face with flashing white teeth. That face was laughing, but hadn't it said no pain?

"Yes, Beauty. No more pain. I can make it stop. Give me your hand for a second." He raised his hand and felt it grasped by cold, bony fingers. "Good boy."

He felt a sharp pain and then a falling. He sank into a warm brightness where there was no pain, nothing but fierce wonder and joy.

"Yes, Beauty, so much better. Let me help you up. Come on with me. I'll fix you up. I'll keep the pain away."

He stood and followed, leaving the cloak in a puddle behind him.

The whip sliced, fast and deep and he moaned beneath it, hips rocking in a crude parody of sex. The thin leather straps encircling his wrists were more to remind him of his position than to bind him. The scent of blood was in the air and he could hear the cries of pain and pleasure filling the smoky space around him.

He had forgotten how to differentiate which were his.

The figure behind him was skilled, living up to the challenge that had been thrown.

Beauty had stood, swaying to the blaring music, poured into latex, face and shoulder-length hair streaked with glitter, his eyes lined in black, nipples rouged. The tall man had walked up to him, kissed him roughly, deeply. Beauty had been relaxed, unresponsive, a hint of challenge in his pose.

The man pulled back and his eyes fell to the collar fastened around Beauty's neck. "Whose collar do you wear?"

"My own." Beauty's voice was ice; he felt it form icicles on his lips.

There was a slow blink of mottled brown eyes. "You belong to no one? How odd."

"I belong to myself."

The man laughed sharply, throwing back thick auburn hair, which shone in the violet lights illuminating the room. "What's your name, boy?"

"Beauty."

"Oh, you're a vain one, Beauty. I'd like to get my hands on you, play with you, make you cry. Unfortunately, I don't have the time or the patience to train a child."

"I look like a child?"

The man's eyebrows arched, challengingly. Beauty was struck suddenly by the motion. He'd seen it so many times, on a thinner face, blue eyes...

Beauty sneered and turned away with a shrug. "I want someone who doesn't need to be coddled. I'm not looking to get my ass paddled red so you can hold me and make me feel better."

When the hard hands had dug themselves into his hair, yanking him off balance, Beauty had felt himself grow hard.

When he came, body jerking in unwilling passion, back and thighs bleeding, hard cock buried in his ass, Beauty closed his eyes and saw bright blue.

"Here Beauty, at least let me put this cream on you first. It'll keep it from hurting so bad."

Tryl heard the sharp laugh and sighed, holding the metal rod between his fingers. The small ball on either end caught the light as the young Dwond cleaned it with an antiseptic. He gathered up his other tools, his razor and needles and clamps.

"Are you sure, Beauty? Getting a piercing's gonna feel different than you're used to and, well," Tryl motioned to the young man's genitals, "that's not exactly an ear."

The dead stone eyes looked at him. That face was marble, body molded from steel.

Beauty lounged before him on the dull metal table, naked and relaxed. Tryl admired the months of work that had gone into the whipcord thin frame, torso covered in an amalgamation of subdued colors and shadows. The leaping red flames burst from the reddish curls between his legs, muting into swirls of blues and green that graced the muscled chest. As the design reached his shoulders, the colors lost their saturation, becoming pale ghost images, a reaching out for the unattainable.

Once, when they had first met, Beauty had shown him a dance, a beautiful series of steps that had wept with loss and sadness. Then Beauty had asked Tryl if he thought he could recreate that on a body.

Tryl had thought of the haunting image that Beauty made when he danced, the steady movements that reached beyond the cold tiles he stood upon. He was overwhelmed by the keening sorrow held back by thin layers of skin.

Tryl had said yes.

When Tryl had met Beauty, there was a hint of youth in his eyes. Now the blond man had come and asked for more. For more pain, more decoration. His eyes were empty and old.

"Come on, Tryl. I'm no fragile virgin. Do your worst." Beauty smiled at the Dwond, lying back and spreading his legs wide.

Tryl settled between them and pulled out a long needle and began his work.

He could hold his breath a really long time. He felt his brain bubbling between his ears, felt the hum of instinctual panic as it tightened his balls, making his heart thrum.

Fuck, it felt good.

The pair of hard hands holding the mask over his face let up with a jerk. The young humanoid glared in frustration. "Damn it to the edge of heaven, Beauty, what is your fucking problem? Breathe it in. It's not like it hurts. It's not even like I'm forcing you..."

The still-water eyes just stared, their colors dulled by the moldy, torn vinyl Beauty rested on, boring through the young man until he started to shake.

"I paid you to hold the mask until I finished the tank."

"But, Beauty...you're taking forever; you haven't even started with the gas." The boy's voice was high and reedy with the gas that bled throughout the room.

"Maybe next time you'll be smarter, my young friend. Maybe next time you'll charge by the hour. Now. The mask."

Beauty felt the mask seal around his mouth and nose, cutting off his breath, his line with the air. He floated along, feeling an odd euphoria, knowing he hadn't even started the drug yet.

The races were tomorrow and Beauty wanted this, needed the release this time with an angry desperation he couldn't comprehend.

Something was coming.

Something was coming and it hurt his head and he couldn't focus on the race and he needed to win tomorrow, needed the credits, needed the freedom, needed...

A face appeared before his glazed eyes, familiar and ruddy. His pants were opened, lowered roughly and discarded as the boy kept the mask tight over his face.

Thick fingers pushed into his anus, slick and hot. Beauty fought not to gasp, to not lift himself off the table.

The hard fingers worked him, stretching, stroking. The burn was bright and Beauty's hips rocked, driving himself deeper onto those digits. His cock was hard, leaving a little pool of wetness on his stomach.

"See, with this one, you have to distract him. Keep him off balance; keep his feet up off the floor and his asshole spread."

"But, he's still holding his breath..."

"Watch, youngling."

Beauty felt a warm body stretch out above him, tongue flicking once at his ear. "You're mine. You belong to me and I'm not sharing you."

Beauty's eyes widened as the cock slammed into him and his breath escaped him sharply.

"I'm not sharing you with your drugs."

A thrust.

"I'm not sharing you with your pain."

Another thrust, deep and shocking.

"I'm not sharing you with your regrets."

Thrust.

"I'm not sharing you with the one who came looking for you today, either. Jinn, he said. Your old master, was he?"

A deep lunge and that name and he gasped, breathed in the drug and he was flying, disappearing into a time before, a world before the hurting.

But not before him.

Not before that name.

Jinn.

Jinn.

Part 2

An echo in the Force touched Qui-Gon briefly, cool fingertips at his temples. They had become more and more frequent of late -- fleeting caresses tinted with the unique essence of his padawan. His former padawan. The thought filled his mouth with bitterness. Each day he tortured himself anew with the knowledge that it was his loss of control that had led them to this point. After all this time, Qui-Gon thought the pain should be muted somehow.

It wasn't.

Sighing, Qui-Gon wrapped his cloak more tightly around himself, shifting in the cheap, hard chair. Even on this temperate planet, even in the blank rented room, he was cold, empty. He had been this way since the morning Obi-Wan had left his bed, walking out of his life and taking the warmth and Light from his soul.

He still didn't understand how Obi-Wan, in his depleted state, had escaped him. His fear for his padawan's safety had him combing the near-by forest for hours in the pouring rain before he'd accepted the fact that Obi-Wan simply wasn't there. He'd called in local law enforcement officers and expanded his search, but to no avail.

Qui-Gon groaned to himself as he thought of the Council's reaction. Once he'd exhausted his resources on planet, he'd been forced to return to the Temple and request assistance. The large chambers filled with his fellow Jedi had never seemed so cold, so distant. He had felt their dismissal of Obi-Wan within the Force before Master Windu had even spoken. Yoda had tried to help, to take his responsibility for Obi-Wan's condition, but the Council as a whole had seen the disappearance of his padawan as the will of the Force -- and a fitting solution to a problem they hadn't wanted to deal with in the first place.

He'd been unable to meekly accept a new assignment. Even if the Council was not supportive, he'd known what his mission had to be. Qui-Gon's fingers instinctively moved to his waist, feeling the emptiness were his lightsaber should have been. He still felt the angry frustration that had consumed him as they had gone around in endless circles. It had been up to him to finally break with the Jedi and go out on his own. Even with the sad gaze of his master burning into him, Qui-Gon had known that one thing was paramount -- he had to find Obi-Wan.

Absently fingering the braided strands of auburn hair hidden within his own silver and brown, Qui-Gon turned to his notes. He'd heard rumors of a talented, daring pilot, possibly fitting Obi-Wan's description. It had taken effort, but he'd traced the rumors back to this world. He tortured himself daily with the past. Now, after what seemed like an eternity, he was getting close to finding Obi-Wan. At least he felt close. Something in the flow of the Force currents around him called out to him of love and laughter and Light.

Or maybe he was simply losing his mind.

Qui-Gon sighed, absently sipping cha long gone cold. For five years he'd followed leads, crisscrossing the galaxy in search of Obi-Wan. As a Jedi, he'd thought he'd been exposed to every torture sentients inflicted on one another, but once he took off the uniform of the Jedi and blended in, he'd been shocked to see the places and situations that people survived in -- that Obi-Wan must be surviving in. His anguish and guilt increased with each horror he saw.

Yet, even if Obi-Wan still wore the Force-inhibiting collar, Qui-Gon knew he would have sensed Obi-Wan's death. The connection that he shared with his padawan went so much deeper than their now-broken training bond. So, Qui-Gon continued his search.

When he'd left the Jedi, Qui-Gon had given Yoda his lightsaber and Obi-Wan's, knowing that his master would keep them safe until they were able to reclaim them. If they were able to reclaim them. One of the Council's main concerns was that Obi-Wan would continue to be a danger. Qui-Gon held no illusions that the past could be changed. Obi-Wan had killed Padawan Pzed, but he hadn't been cognizant of his actions and had obviously reacted strongly when he'd learned of them. Qui-Gon's only hope was that once he found Obi-Wan, he would have a second chance to somehow made things right.

Tomorrow he would find out if, this time, his search would be successful. Qui-Gon rolled his head back and forth, trying to relax his neck and shoulder muscles. He was so tired. Leaving the datapad on the desk, Qui-Gon curled his massive body onto the small bed in the corner. By now he had memorized every sketchy detail of the race and the pilot. Pulling his cloak around him, he fingered the rough, yet achingly familiar fabric. He had left the Temple with only two reminders of his former life -- his boots, because they were as much a part of him as his lightsaber, and one of his cloaks, because Obi-Wan had felt protected when he wrapped himself in one. Qui-Gon only wore the cloak in private, but he never failed to think of Obi-Wan when he did, dreaming of a time when they could both stop running and be together again.

Closing his eyes, Qui-Gon drifted into a fitful sleep, dreaming, as he did every night, of Obi-Wan.

It was bliss. Obi-Wan was sleek and smooth and supple. Running his hands over the beloved body, Qui-Gon knew he could spend eternity appreciating its beauty.

Qui-Gon felt Obi-Wan squirm with delight beneath his hands, playfully crying out for more, submitting to the possession of his master, the man he loved beyond life.

Smiling at his padawan's eagerness, Qui-Gon continued the slow, sensual touches until he knew, through their bond, that Obi-Wan couldn't stand any more teasing. Finally, he let his kisses drift down over Obi-Wan's sleek chest, dipping his tongue into the indented navel before taking the rigid shaft in his mouth and sucking lightly. As he licked and nibbled along the firm flesh, he could taste the tangy flavor of his love on his tongue.

Kissing along Obi-Wan's hip, Qui-Gon gently nuzzled and pushed until Obi-Wan rolled onto his stomach. He could feel Obi-Wan quivering as his tongue lapped along Obi-Wan's lower back and down into the crevice of his ass. His tongue pushed in, wetting and stretching in preparation for his cock. Obi-Wan's cries of pleasure washed over him, adding to his excitement.

Sinking into Obi-Wan's heat and tightness was incredible. Qui-Gon gasped and tried to keep from thrusting in completely, but his restraint was unnecessary. Obi-Wan arched into the penetration, shuddering as the motion sheathed Qui-Gon completely in his body.

Their love making was slow and steady, bringing both of them to the pinnacle of pleasure before Qui-Gon picked up the pace and drove them over into mind-shattering orgasm. They lay together, panting and sweat-slick as they calmed, Obi-Wan's head tucked against Qui-Gon's shoulder.

It was perfect. Qui-Gon petted the beautiful body snuggled so close to him, reveling in the love that flowed between the two of them, luminous in the night.

Suddenly, Qui-Gon felt a sharp pain slice through him. Clutching his head, he struggled to focus, to control the pain so he could figure out what the problem was. Obi-Wan lay by his side, too silent, too still. Reaching out with a trembling hand, Qui-Gon was shocked to feel the cold flesh where just moments ago had been heat and vital energy.

Panic shooting through him, Qui-Gon sat up, rolling Obi-Wan so he could see the still, pale face -- a face that looked slightly similar, but wasn't Obi-Wan. Relief poured through him, and Qui-Gon tried to identify the man lying naked in bed with him. As he watched in growing horror, the face changed beneath his gaze, morphing into another man and another and yet another.

Backing away from the body, Qui-Gon began to moan, the volume of his cry increasing as he faced the full impact of his guilt. He'd seen their faces before. They were the results of other promising leads -- men he'd tracked down, hoping that his network of informants had finally gotten the tip that would lead him to Obi-Wan. What he'd found, instead, were pale reflections of his padawan. Pale reflections that, at some point, had become close enough to the original for a night of passion. Nights where his mind, hope crushed yet again, had pretended that the quest was over, the prize found.

Curling up on the floor with his back against a wall, Qui-Gon rocked forward and back, whispering Obi-Wan's name over and over.

Qui-Gon woke from his nightmare, drained and disillusioned. The filthy window filtered in the gray light of morning. He wouldn't let himself hope. The pain and guilt of failure were becoming too great.

Yet, as he braided back his hair and dressed in dark leather pants and a silver-gray shirt, he couldn't help his excitement. He had a race to attend.

The crowd was boisterous, their excitement palpable. As Qui-Gon made his way through the brightly-colored market area outside the stands, he heard the calls of vendors cut across the general babble of voices. The race was only one of many attractions at the fair, but it was the only one Qui-Gon was concerned with.

When he'd arrived on this Outer Rim world, he'd found the racetrack and set about looking for a racer named Beauty. He shouldn't have been surprised when it was difficult to find him. He'd felt that he was tantalizingly close, but the currents of the Force were elusive.

Qui-Gon had talked to many people, and while several admitted to knowing of the man, he was talked about in hushed tones and no one could, or would, tell Qui-Gon where he lived. Trying to read the Force, Qui-Gon had focused his search on an area with bars and other less savory establishments. One man he'd spoken with, Kynen, hadn't admitted it, but he'd thought the man knew Beauty. Holding onto that piece of information, Qui-Gon had continued to look until he'd finally decided to get a room and wait for the race the next morning.

At the track early, he'd learned that Beauty never showed up until just before a race, apparently liking to make an entrance. Resigned to waiting, Qui-Gon had circulated outside the track, hoping to stumble onto useful information. So far, nothing had presented itself.

Re-entering the racetrack, Qui-Gon worked his way through the milling spectators to the front row seat he'd "convinced" the ticket seller was his. Using the Force for small gain had long ago become necessary to his survival, and Qui-Gon had accepted that responsibility.

Qui-Gon could see the other racers, parading about, waving to the crowd as their speeders were lined up at the start. Flipping through the information on the viewscreen in front of his seat, Qui-Gon stopped to study a map of the meandering racecourse that ran through dense forest and open meadows before returning to the stands. Looking for information on Beauty, he couldn't locate an image, but found the odds on the pilots. Beauty and another racer, Semaj, were far and away the favorites. If Beauty really was Obi-Wan, and he still wore the Force-inhibiting collar, Qui-Gon shuddered to think of the timing and reflexes needed to successfully navigate the course -- all the while avoiding the tricks of the other racers. He felt himself tense, and had to work to relax.

Any sense of peace he'd gained was shattered as Beauty arrived, stalking to his speeder with a casual disdain for the crowd that both infuriated and impressed them. Qui-Gon followed the man, trying to identify his missing padawan. The man was painfully thin, with blond-streaked auburn hair tied at his nape and falling slightly below his shoulders. He was dressed in sinfully tight brown leather pants, tucked into high boots, and went shirtless, covered only in a deep green leather vest. What caught Qui-Gon's attention immediately was the metal collar around the pilot's neck. It took him a moment to notice the man's body was decorated with color -- greens and blues along his stomach, rising up his chest and fading to levels of grays, becoming mere wisps as it hit his shoulders and neck.

Obi-Wan -- could it truly be? He looked so different, but then again, it had been a long time. As the race began, Qui-Gon followed Beauty's speeder, reaching out with the Force to try to sense a familiar presence. The pilots raced madly around the course, fighting the sharp turns and obstacles as well as one another. As Beauty's speeder deftly veered to avoid Semaj's and shoot across the finish line first, Qui-Gon felt a small surge of energy. It didn't feel exactly like Obi-Wan, too much pain and despair, but there was also the excitement of flight, of victory -- there was enough to recognize him.

Qui-Gon sat back, stunned -- he had finally found Obi-Wan.

Part 3

The air felt wicked, whipping across his face and Beauty almost smiled. The feel of the speeder, held tightly between his thighs, exhilarated him as did the last remnants of the drug flowing through his system. He fell into the race, dodging through the course. Semaj was beside him, bald head showing off his ritual marking of ferocity. Semaj was supposed to win this race, that was the agreement, but Beauty really needed the money, needed to leave.

Jinn was here. He'd talked to Kynen already and it was simply a matter of time.

The track was flowing past, the dull brown dirt contrasting with the black sheen of the metal he controlled with his body. Kynen had held him down last night, fucked him while he was lost within the euphoria of the drugs. When he'd woken up, Kynen was beside him, sleeping on the huge mattress, one massive hand wrapped around Beauty's flaccid cock, one finger insinuated in the metal ring that protruded through the tip.

Kynen hadn't woken as Beauty stood, only rolled over and murmured drowsily. By the time Kynen woke and realized he wasn't back from the race, Beauty would be on a transport off-planet.

His bag was waiting in the staging area, his extra outfits wrapped around the small tokens he had picked up over the last few years. He had a tiny blue stone that had fallen from the ring of the woman who had introduced him to the races, given him his leathers. She needed to watch Beauty stand in front of her and stroke himself to completion. She never spoke, never touched, just watched fiercely with light, glittering eyes. She had cried a single tear when he'd left.

A series of needles wrapped in black velvet were a gift from Tryl. Tryl had dulled the needles on Beauty's skin, painting him with pain. The Dwond, decorated from head to foot in a seemingly random series of tiny scars which told the story of his tribe, had met Beauty at a club. They had talked for hours, high on panac. Beauty couldn't remember now if they had fucked, but he thought they must have because he did remember doing a kata for Tryl, feeling his soul ache towards the Force, which didn't exist anymore, never would again. Tryl's black eyes had watched with a sharp fascination and suddenly Beauty had known what he needed.

Tryl overwrote the memory of the Force with ink and pain and vibrant colors. Beauty had floated on the pain for weeks, night after night, lying there in Tryl's brightly painted rooms with sweat rolling down his cheeks. It was so good, so real, this pain. He thought that maybe it was the first thing he had truly felt.

Mapha had given him the tiny clear pot with shimmering flakes of glitter one evening after she finished dancing. Her huge body shone in the lights and he had laughed, fascinated by the motion, the random sparkles. Beauty had looked at her, blinking slowly, "You're covered in stars, Mapha, stars." Her heavy laughter had felt warm and somehow wet, the light jumping across the folds of her belly. The secrets of the galaxy were somewhere in those flashing lights, in those stars.

There were a dozen more, from a dozen different places he'd run from. Pieces of memory from people he'd fucked, people he'd paid, people who had paid him. He had been here on this tiny, dirty little planet for almost eight cycles. He was making money, the panac was available and other more recreational drugs were plentiful. He had Kynen and he had Kynen's hard fists and thick jaw.

He wasn't ready to leave this place, but Jinn was here, on this planet, close. Too fucking close.

The race was over quickly and the crowd was screaming. Beauty allowed his heart to race and a moment of fierce joy to overtake him. The speeder was hot underneath him; his thighs trembled slightly against the shiny black metal. He raised his hands in victory, relishing the rub of the leather vest against the ebony rings in his nipples.

The crowd howled, throwing coins, flowers, rotted vegetables, all manner of detritus upon the track as he slid off his speeder. Semaj threw himself off his machine, growling viciously beneath his breath, fists clenching violently.

Beauty sauntered over to Semaj before the man could start something with him. Looking directly into the furious eyes, Beauty winked. "I know, I fucked up the agreement. Don't bitch, Sem. I'm bailing. It's yours now." He motioned to the speeder with his head.

The fierce light in his competitor's eyes died down. "Damn right it's mine, Beauty. None of these other demanis deserve it."

Beauty moved up close to the sweating Zabrakian, wrapping his arms around the taller man. "You're right, Semaj. Anything else you want before I leave?"

"Kynen will have my balls, Beauty."

A challenging smile appeared on Beauty's face. "You too scared to take what you want, Sem? It's your only chance. I'm almost gone."

The kiss that followed was brutal and fierce. The crowd screamed as the men struggled in their embrace. When Beauty pulled back, his lips were wet with blood. With a smile, Beauty reached up and removed a long silver chain from Semaj's neck. "To remember, Sem." With a shrug and an oddly youthful grin, he threaded the chain through the rings on his nipples.

Beauty wiped the sweat out of his eyes and walked towards the dais in the corner of the track to collect his monies. The exchange was made quickly and efficiently, and then Beauty turned to face the crowd, acknowledging his applause. He smiled, eyes bouncing around aimlessly at the dirty, screeching faces until they lit upon one gone pale with shock.

Fuck!

It couldn't be.

It was. It was him. Beauty looked, almost drank in the features that were more familiar than breathing. He looked tired, sad, but it was still him. The broken nose, the high forehead. The hair was lighter, maybe he was older, but oh! Force help him, it was his master.

Master? Jinn? Oh fuck, it was true. Kynen had warned him and now Jinn was here.

Found, he was found and oh Force, it was him. He hadn't changed, hadn't changed and Beauty thought he could even see those eyes and oh, no, not now, not here. Oh, fuck, ohfuckohfuckohfuck...

Beauty turned and bolted for the staging area. He grabbed his bag, heard Semaj's roar as the outsider tried to follow, as Jinn tried to follow.

There was a transport waiting outside the door and Beauty took a moment to be thankful for its presence as they zipped away. "Take me to the south side, near the warehouses."

He sat back, nervously looking behind him, dreading the sight of the graying hair, those eyes, those fucking blue eyes that wouldn't go away, wouldn't leave his dreams, wouldn't fade. Beauty reached up to push back his hair and he noticed the faint tremors within his fingers.

Beauty dug through his bag and opened up a slender vial of liquid with an autoinjector attached. Placing it against his upper arm, he pressed. The drugs hit immediately and the slight trembles in his hand ceased.

He rummaged through his bags again, ripping off the vest and throwing on a thick black jacket. He pulled his hair down; making sure it covered his face and began dabbing on make-up. He added a reddish tint to his skin and kohled his eyes before slipping dark brown lenses over the pupils. A quick glance at his reflection and he was pleased. He looked younger, more innocent. Just what the smugglers on these off-planet runs were looking for to warm their beds.

The transport stopped in front of a broken down building with loud music blaring from it and Beauty hopped out, grabbing his bag and wrapping the persona of a lost, scared boy looking for a caretaker around him.

Before long, Beauty was wrapped within the arms of a stocky Corellian called Adu, sobbing out his sad story of abusive family members and long, cold nights on the street.

Shortly thereafter, Adu had Beauty bent under a filthy table, sucking enthusiastically at his cock while the older man finished up his business deals on this worthless little planet.

Before the sun had moved below the ragged tops of the warehouses, Beauty was standing in a small, rusty smuggler's ship, headed towards Corellia.

He'd escaped again.

Jinn hadn't found him, couldn't follow him.

Wouldn't follow him.

"Beauty." The voice was rough and cacophonous. "Get back in here, boy. I've got things to teach you."

"Yes." He sounded flat, even to his own ears.

"Yes, what, boy?"

Beauty closed his eyes for a moment and saw blue. He was still alive. Qui-Gon was still alive, but he wasn't here.

"Beauty! Answer me, boy! Yes, what?"

"Yes, Master. I'm coming."

Part 4

It was maddening how many ships were leaving D'aebka.

Qui-Gon stalked over to another ship, sure its captain was going to be as difficult and closed-mouthed as the last ones he'd talked to. He shouldn't be surprised -- smugglers and businessmen alike didn't engage in small talk about their passengers or destinations, even when asked "nicely." Still, it was driving him crazy -- to be this close to Obi-Wan and risk having him slip through his fingers.

After recognizing the racer as Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon had thought his search was finally over. He could talk to Obi-Wan, apologize for how badly everything had gone, help him. Instead, Obi-Wan had seen him -- almost as if his eyes had been instinctively drawn to his master -- and fled.

Qui-Gon had followed immediately, but had been delayed by the Zabrakian racer -- the one who had kissed Obi-Wan so fiercely. Stomping down on his jealousy, he'd gotten around the obstacle with a well-placed kick, but by the time he'd reached the street, Obi-Wan was gone.

Fearing that Obi-Wan would attempt to escape him by going off planet, Qui-Gon had headed for the loosely organized area that served as a spaceport. He'd been unhappy to find so many ships and such high traffic. He'd spent the afternoon searching for Obi-Wan -- in the port and in the Force, but, to his immense frustration, had not found him.

If Obi-Wan didn't want to be found, he would shield himself mentally so that even the tiny flicker Qui-Gon had felt before would be squashed.

Finally Qui-Gon decided he needed to change tactics. If he couldn't cover every departing ship, he needed more information about Obi-Wan's possible whereabouts and destination. He needed to talk to Kynen.

The establishment was as depressing the second time as it had been the first -- not really its physical look, but the sense of angry pain and drugged pleasure that permeated the Force here. Qui-Gon wove his way through the tables and couches scattered across the front room, trying to block out the empty people and loud, angry music that screamed into every corner of the place.

Making his way along a hallway connecting smaller, more private rooms, Qui-Gon ignored the lingering smell of drugs and the protests of a guard, and entered Kynen's office. He found the huge man slouched in a large chair behind a meticulously organized desk.

"Where is he?"

The man looked up sharply. "I don't know."

Qui-Gon paused, taken aback by the desolate look on the ruddy face. Apparently Kynen was not happy that Obi-Wan had left. "I think you do. Please, I need to find him."

Kynen seemed to rally, pulling himself up straight and glaring at Qui-Gon. "Ah, Jinn, his old master."

Surprised by the observation, and wondering if perhaps Obi-Wan had spoken of him, Qui-Gon asked, "Why would you think that?"

"He used to say your name when he came."

Qui-Gon's eyes narrowed menacingly, and he had to fight to control his feelings of anger, jealousy and...pleasure. Struggling to keep his voice level, he said, "I want to help him."

Kynen said angrily, "He doesn't seem to want to be found. Considering the state he's in, your help wasn't very useful to him before."

This man certainly knew what to say to cut through his heart. Qui-Gon sank into the chair in front of the desk and met Kynen's eyes. "I failed him before, but I won't again. I will make things right."

Kynen relaxed slightly. "I believe you are telling me the truth, Jinn."

"Then, please, where did he go?"

"He didn't tell me." Kynen held up his hand to forestall Qui-Gon's words. "I woke up this morning, expecting him back from the race but he hadn't returned. Last night I'd told him about meeting you and I realized he'd panicked and run. I went to the spaceport and asked around but no one had seen him. I was about to leave, hoping he'd returned and I was worrying for nothing, when I saw him boarding a ship."

Qui-Gon couldn't stop himself from demanding, "Where was it headed?"

"I convinced an associate to find out -- Corellia."

Closing his eyes briefly, Qui-Gon took a steadying breath. Corellia was well known for its smugglers, scoundrels, and all manners of sexual expression. "Did he have credits?"

Kynen raised his eyebrows and laughed out loud. "Beauty has a slight...fondness for panac that demands the credits he wins at the races. But don't worry about him, with a body like his, he won't need credits. After all, nobody moves under the whip like our Beauty, right Jinn?"

This was too much to grasp. Qui-Gon couldn't believe that his Obi-Wan was addicted to a sensation-enhancing drug, that his padawan craved pain and humiliation to gain sexual pleasure, that his love would sell his body to strangers to feed the addiction. No, he didn't want to believe. Feeling sick, Qui-Gon rose, needing to back away from this reality of his padawan, his Obi-Wan. "I need to go. Thank you for the information. I will find him and see that he's healed."

Giving a genuine smile, Kynen said, "I hope you succeed."

"I will."

Space was vast -- mostly cold and empty, with a few spectacular exceptions. Qui-Gon sat in the pilot's chair of his small transport, watching the instruments as the distance to Corellia decreased, hoping that he wouldn't be too late to find Obi-Wan. He'd been so close this time -- had felt him in the Force, seen him.

Obi-Wan, and yet not the Obi-Wan he remembered.

It went beyond the startling physical changes -- markings that covered his body like a living flame. His inner light was different. Kynen and his establishment hinted at the lifestyle Obi-Wan was immersed in -- drugs, sex, pain. Even after all the things he'd seen in his search, Qui-Gon had held fiercely to the belief that Obi-Wan wouldn't be touched by them. His image of Obi-Wan was so unlike the picture he'd seen today, that Qui-Gon was reeling with the harshness of reality.

And with the guilt.

He was desperate to find Obi-Wan. To help him back into the Light. Only he wasn't so sure he knew where it was anymore.

Part 5

The rain was warm and ran down his neck onto his bare back. Beauty shrugged his shoulders, enjoying the sensation of the water trickling over the small welts left over from his trip. He chuckled; Adu was a sweet man, just looking for a youngster to mold while getting a couple of blowjobs. Unfortunately, Beauty wasn't a youngster anymore and the days where being called "boy" unnerved him were long gone.

The old bastard had cried when he'd walked off the ship to find greener pastures.

After all, Jinn would be looking for him again. If he'd been observed boarding Adu's ship, the best thing he could do was distance himself as quickly as possible. He only needed a few days -- get some panac, some cash and then maybe he could find someone who was selling an old ship, something dented and worthless, but working. Then he could disappear into nothingness and Jinn would never be able to find him. He'd be free.

First things first, though -- the panac. The need was crawling inside him, gnawing against his long bones, making his skin crawl. Beauty walked slowly, keeping close to the buildings, listening for the blaring of noise, the cries that would tell him which establishment he was looking for. There was one is every city, and in a capital like Coronet, they weren't even rare, just discreet.

Ben knew this city, had walked these streets, striding out down the middle, cloak protecting him from prying eyes. Funny how different a city looked when he walked closer to the gutter, bare-chested and more than a little hungry for the drug that would fill his empty spaces.

The house was easier to find than he'd hoped. In the end he'd followed the slow movement of gaunt young people through a red door and into a small office. The woman sitting at the desk grinned when he entered.

"You're new."

Beauty nodded, shortly. "To the place, not to the practice."

She smiled sharply, her pink hair falling into her face. "You willing to accept house rules?"

"No conning the regulars. No fights. No auths."

"Are you clean?"

"No rashes, no diseases, no bugs, no interest in finding any."

"Willing to submit to a blood test?"

Beauty stuck out a finger and allowed her to poke it and test his blood. "Clean as promised."

"Yes. Your limits?"

"No limits. No newbies, though and I want to choose. I'm not a trainer." Beauty turned slowly, showing off his body. As he moved to face her, he slowly unbuttoned his leathers and exposed his groin. Swaying lightly to the music filtering through the thin walls, Beauty moved sinuously, taking his cock in his hand and stroking himself to hardness, thumb moving slowly over the imbedded ring. Once he was fully erect, he brought his eyes up to meet hers. "I don't have to play with the new ones. I want to choose."

The woman stood and grinned, grabbing a datapad and moving around the desk. "You are a jewel, dearie. What're your terms? Credits? Panac? A mix?"

"A mix. I want a hit before I start, on good faith." Beauty tried to calm the tiny spasms of his muscles, which worsened as they discussed the drug. This kind of transaction was fairly well ritualized, allowing the experienced to conduct business easily and the newbies to be quickly identified.

A nod and the deal was done. "Not a problem. I need a name and a place to keep your account. I'm Tani, by the way. I'm always here, run the books, keep the peace."

"I'm Beauty." Her direct, calculating stare would have made him blush once.

"You are that, dearie." She typed information into her pad and then moved to her desk and rummaged for a moment. "Okay, why don't you tuck your cock back into those sweet leathers and go clean yourself up. You're wet and you won't do well under the lights without some help. The cosmetics are in the dressing room." She threw a small key and a vial, which Beauty caught effortlessly despite his tremors. "I'm sure you've heard this before. You've got a locker to stash your stuff in, finding a place to sleep is your problem. You get your credits deposited and your hit when your customer is happy."

Beauty nodded. "I want credits. No accounts. No records. I'm not permanent, just think of me as special entertainment."

"Fine, Beauty. Dressing room's down the hall. Someone there will show you the main floor." She turned from him and motioned in the young girl standing shivering in the doorway. "Come on in dearie, I don't bite."

The room was busy, young men and women dressing, primping, painting. The environment was almost pleasant, softly lit, cushioned. There were trays of cosmetics resting on long counters, unimaginable shades and textures. These people were in leather, vinyl, chains. Some were completely nude. Mostly humanoid, there were a few other species lounging about, for those with rarer tastes.

Beauty found his locker and threw his bag in, locking it. He pressed the vial against his arm before moving into the bathing area, where he cleaned himself, within and without. Back in the dressing area, he applied make-up, accentuating his eyes and nipples with glitter. He brushed out his hair and let it flow across his shoulders. He wiped the chain and rings adorning his nipples with a soft cloth, removing any prints.

The music was beginning to hit him, the beat becoming seductive and intense as the drug zipped through his body. Beauty closed his eyes, breathing slowly and feeling the need to move, to fuck, to feel course through him.

With a nod to no one in particular, Beauty moved through the hallway into the depths of the club.

He danced, moving his body through the crowd, searching for someone who could please him. He had no doubt that whoever he chose would be happy, sated. As a rule, Beauty was very good at what he did.

The room was warm and he began to shine with sweat underneath the violet lights as he swayed. Suddenly a long, slender finger traced along the edges of the black metal in his nipple. Beauty looked into deep brown eyes surrounded by an oddly angular face. "You like?"

The man nodded, silently. His eyes never left Beauty's face.

They danced for a few moments, bodies moving together. Beauty's partner was almost exactly his height, and there was something unbelievably exciting about the thought of looking into his eyes while they fucked. Slowly, Beauty realized he was being maneuvered towards a hallway, towards the private rooms.

He frowned, trying to clear his head. Is this who he wanted? Is this who he chose? The angular chin of his partner jutted up and the long fingers shot out, grabbing a pierced nipple. Beauty groaned, felt himself grow hard as the fingers twisted slowly, not tearing the skin, but building the pain. As Beauty's eyes closed momentarily, the fingers left his chest and then Beauty saw the slim figure walking down the hall.

Beauty followed without another thought.

The beat of the music was unbelievably loud, confusing him, keeping him off balance with his so-silent partner who had simply opened a door and led him inside.

The sheets were soft, cradling him in a way that was oddly discomfiting. He wanted the pain, not this gentility. Beauty struggled slightly; watching in a dazed, amazed way as the slim man attached his arms to cuffs at the head of the bed.

The man moved with grace, trailing hot fingers down Beauty's sides, tracing the chain between his nipples with a fascinated gleam in those dark eyes. The music beat on, unrelenting as Beauty lifted his hips, allowing his pants to be removed.

A delighted laugh, the first sound he had heard from this man, escaped, deep and rough, as the ring set within Beauty's erection was exposed. Beauty closed his eyes, feeling cool hands touching his hard cock, moving the ring, slowly manipulating it.

Beauty felt a cold thin chain slide through the ring, the links catching his skin, making him groan. He kept his eyes closed, feeling those fingers trail up his stomach. When the chain on his nipples was attached to the new chain, Beauty allowed his body to undulate. The more he moved, the tighter the tension on the chains became. When he forced his body to still, the pull on his cock and nipples was almost unbearable and incredibly erotic.

Beauty heard an approving noise, felt his flanks stroked firmly and then those hands were on his thighs, separating them. His knees were raised, attached to something and Beauty relaxed into the comfort of being bound, waiting for the feeling of a hard cock slamming into him.

When it didn't happen, he opened his eyes curiously. The man, short brown hair not even mussed, eyes serene and peaceful, was fully dressed, standing silently between Beauty's legs looking at him. Just looking at him, not touching, not needing, not satisfying. Simply looking at him.

Beauty forced himself to stay still, to lose himself within the beat pouring through the room. The drug, the chains, the slow burn in his nipples and cock were delicious in symphony with the pounding of the drums.

The long finger sliding into him was a surprise, shocking him into pumping his hips and yanking painfully on the chains stretched tight across his torso. He cried out at the sudden pain and lifted his head to look at the man between his legs, feeling the leather cuffs pull against his upper arms. A palm set firmly on Beauty's stomach stilled him and the single digit within him became two. Those sober brown eyes never left Beauty's face. The man didn't speak to correct or warn or direct.

Beauty opened his mouth to question, to ask direction and that hand on his stomach pressed down firmly. The dark-haired man shook his head slowly and steadily pulled the chains connecting Beauty's piercings. A long, low wail slid from beneath Beauty's lips and he felt the beginnings of fluttering panic. The fear tasted metallic in his throat.

He savored it.

The hand stretching Beauty's chains retreated and wrapped itself around his weeping cock, absently toying with the slippery ring. Slowly, driving with the rhythm, two fingers became three and Beauty had to force himself into stillness. He was stretched, full and he wanted to rock against those fingers, pump his hips madly. The burn was delicious, making his thighs tremble. The fingers, those long, thin fingers danced within his body, forcing him to feel the sweet ache building within his balls.

When the fourth oiled finger was added, the ice-cold pain was exquisite. Beauty could feel his body shaking, trying to deny entrance to that elegant white hand. He began making tiny cries, the sounds wrenched from his throat, filling his ears, superceding the pounding music. His eyes were wide-open, staring sightlessly up at the ceiling, trying desperately not to move against that hand. His world was reduced down to his aching nipples and cock and those fingers stretching his anus, manipulating his prostate.

He barely registered the pinprick on his lower thigh as he was injected again.

The drug overran his senses as the man added the final digit. Beauty's cry caught in his throat as the hand within him formed into a fist, and slowly began to move. Nipples, chains, even his swollen erection were forgotten as his world was consumed by the movement of the hand within him. That long elegant hand bumped against his prostate, bright sparks of sensation breaking through the overwhelming feelings battering him. Tears fueled by adrenaline slid down his cheeks and he laughed wildly, breathing in the pressure and the pain and the movement that wouldn't end.

The pain and pleasure flowed throughout his body, creating images behind his eyes that were echoes of flying, of moving, of loving and oh, Force, he was screaming and he was coming and the room was full of Light and music.

He woke up in the morning on one of the low couches in the dressing room, make-up smeared with tearstains and sweat. He went to get his credits and morning hit of panac before he found something to eat.

Part 6

The beep of the comm panel startled Qui-Gon out of his brooding. Reflexively looking at the incoming caller identification, even though it could only be one being, Qui-Gon groaned and answered Yoda's signal. "My Master."

"My Padawan. The search -- how goes it?"

Qui-Gon paused, glad that the call was voice only so Yoda wouldn't see the look on his face. "I saw him. But he ran, and now I'm following again."

"Hm. Like not what I'm going to ask you, then."

Trying to gather serenity around himself, Qui-Gon countered, "Master, we've been through this many times before. I must find my padawan. Now, more than ever. I'm close. I can't return to the Order until I've helped Obi-Wan."

"Help him you may, but at what cost? The Darkness is gathering. Need you, we do." "But you've said yourself you don't know what form the Darkness will take. I'm doing what I must now, for myself and for Obi-Wan. It's my fault he was injured -- everything he's done and become since then is my fault." Qui-Gon paused to take several deep breaths, seeing Obi-Wan's face as he turned from kissing the Zabrakian racer, lips wet with his own blood. "Surely Obi-Wan deserves the chance to be healed."

"Forgotten, have you, the needs of the many? What good will having Obi-Wan be when Darkness has fallen across the galaxy?"

Something in Yoda's tone had the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. His master sounded worried, no...scared. "You have seen that the Darkness is imminent?"

"Difficult to see, but feel it, I do."

A chill swept through Qui-Gon as he contemplated abandoning his search. No. He couldn't leave Obi-Wan -- not now when he'd finally found him. Couldn't give up on him, no matter what his condition -- or the fate of the galaxy. It was selfish, but that's the way it was. "I can't leave him."

"Stubborn, you are. Sure that Obi-Wan would want you to deny the Order for him?"

"Don't push me! I am no longer bound to follow you. I will not abandon him; I will find Obi-Wan and the galaxy be damned!" Qui-Gon roared.

"Hm -- much anger I feel. Face it you must."

Shocked at his own outburst, Qui-Gon unclenched his hands, absently noticing the crescents indented in his palms. "Forgive me."

"Forgive yourself, you must."

Yoda's signal ended and Qui-Gon stared into space, contemplating his master's words. He was stunned at the vehemence of his reaction. All this time, he'd tried to remain coolly in control, even as time after time he'd been thwarted, had had to turn away without Obi-Wan. Now that he was close to finding Obi-Wan, he realized how far away he'd strayed from the Light.

He needed to attempt to meditate before he reached Corellia.

Water.

Clear. Calm. Smooth.

Qui-Gon focused on the lake, its still surface, its crystal depths. Submerging himself, he felt the water, became the water.

Peaceful. Quiet. Cool.

Qui-Gon watched as sunlight filtered through the water, diffuse, highlighting the sand and pebbles at the bottom, contrasting their solid texture with the ephemeral lightness of photons.

Beautiful. Pure. Obi-Wan.

As if in slow motion, Qui-Gon felt a droplet of rain hit the surface of the lake, spreading ripples radiating in all directions until all parts of the water were disturbed.

Disquiet. Misunderstanding. Retreat.

From a single drop, the rain increased, pelting the surface. Wind whipped up, generating foaming waves. Lightning flashed, harshly illuminating the storm, followed by thunder, reverberating through Qui-Gon's body.

Darkening. Danger. Pain.

The storm was in full force, tossing, buffeting, drowning. There was no escape, no safe harbor, no hope.

Fight. Survive. Surrender.

Acceptance.

Sitting quietly on the meditation mat, Qui-Gon considered his situation. He had set in motion a chain of events that had quickly and unexpectedly escalated into a horrific tragedy. He had lost everything that held meaning to him, everyone he loved. Was it any wonder he had become obsessed with righting the wrong, with regaining that which was lost?

He wasn't ready to accept all that had happened, all he and Obi-Wan had become. He certainly didn't see how they fit into Yoda's fear of gathering Darkness; his purpose was to find Obi-Wan. Once his padawan was whole again, then he would deal with whatever repercussions two men in a vast universe could create. He would let Yoda worry about the galaxy, just as Yoda had taken care of the political situation on Larquis. Qui-Gon didn't have the energy to spare the galaxy -- he was still trying desperately to save his padawan.

The painful realization that Obi-Wan was no longer his padawan -- no longer looked or acted or felt like his padawan -- washed over Qui-Gon. He would have to accept this change, even as his mind cried out against it. He would have to, or Obi-Wan would truly be lost to him.

He tried to remember the times when they had been happy, growing together in the Order, serving the Light. There were so many beautiful, vibrant moments, yet without Obi-Wan, without their bond, their love, the moments were pale.

He wanted the color, the Light back in his life.

Part 7

Corellia grew bigger and brighter until her cloud-swirled image dominated the viewscreen. Qui-Gon slowed the ship and prepared to land at the capital. He couldn't feel Obi-Wan in the Force, but knew in his heart that he was close. He would find Obi-Wan here, before there was another chance for him to escape.

A few well-placed questions gave him the location of the ship Obi-Wan had boarded. Walking into the docking port, Qui-Gon spotted several men working on the ship. Hoping they could give him information, he approached them. "Greetings, friends, perhaps I could have a word with you." Qui-Gon projected sincerity and harmlessness.

A short man turned, taking a step closer to Qui-Gon. Eyes narrowing as he saw the size of the man before him, he asked belligerently, "What do you want?"

Smiling and tilting his head submissively, Qui-Gon said, "I'm looking for a passenger of yours, a man with colored markings on his body."

The man snorted, leering at Qui-Gon. "A lot of people would like to find that one, I think. Adu is heartbroken that he turned out to be so independent."

Laughter erupted from the rest of the crew.

"So he's no longer with you?" Qui-Gon wasn't surprised that Obi-Wan had gone, but he'd had to check first just to be sure.

"No, he left right after we landed," the short man said. "Too bad Adu kept him busy during the flight, we would have liked to have gotten to know him better."

Qui-Gon fought the urge to beat the insulting smile off the man's face, telling himself it would serve no useful purpose to cause a scene. Instead, he grinned widely and said conspiratorially, "Definitely worth the effort. Any idea where he went?"

"Naw, but if you find him, be sure to send him our regards."

"I will," Qui-Gon gritted out, nodding slightly and turning quickly away. When he was out of sight of the ship, Qui-Gon stopped and took a moment to calm himself. He had to be careful -- he was becoming more and more territorial about Obi-Wan.

Equilibrium restored, Qui-Gon set off to look in the next logical place, the red-light district. Since Obi-Wan had left D'aebka so quickly, Qui-Gon assumed he was traveling light and would have to work for money -- to get him away from here and to supply his drug habit. Unfortunately, in a city this size there would be many establishments to search.

Returning to his ship briefly, Qui-Gon changed from his drab, loose fitting clothing to his tight leather pants and a no-sleeved chain mail shirt. Strapping a blaster to his thigh and a large knife at his waist next to a money pouch, Qui-Gon completed his outfit by tucking a small throwing knife into the side of his boot. It never hurt to be prepared.

Qui-Gon walked along the street, reaching out into the darkening twilight, searching for a hint of the familiar spark that was uniquely Obi-Wan. Even now, injured and hidden behind a Force-inhibiting collar, the core essence of his padawan was unmistakable.

Finally, he paused in front of an establishment, hearing the music pounding through the walls. Excitement tingled down his spine. Ignoring the public entrance, he drifted to a red door, tracing his fingers over the knob. Obi-Wan had been here. He just knew it.

Opening the door, he stepped into a small office. The pink-haired woman behind the desk was dividing her attention between her datapad and the security screens that let her monitor her club. She looked up as he entered, eyes widening. "Oh my. You're exquisite, dearie."

Smiling slightly, Qui-Gon nodded his head in acknowledgement. "Thank you, but I'm here looking for someone, not a job."

Pouting, the woman gestured to a chair. "Too bad -- you could make a killing." Shrugging to herself and moving on to other business, she said, "I'm Tani. What sort of someone are you looking for?"

"A man with colored markings on his body."

"Ah, that's easy -- Beauty. Yes, he got here yesterday."

"I want him," Qui-Gon said softly.

Raising an eyebrow at the underlying note of possession, Tani said, "Yeah, you and everybody else. I'm sorry, he's with a customer right now. Perhaps if you came back later tonight?"

Qui-Gon tried to see Obi-Wan in the viewscreen images of private rooms, but they were hidden enough that he couldn't make out any one form. He wanted to scream at this woman that Obi-Wan was his, that he didn't care who Obi-Wan was entertaining, he wanted to see his padawan immediately. Instead, he tamped down his insistence and stood. As he stepped through the door, he turned, looking Tani straight in the eyes and saying firmly, "I'll be back."

Of course, he wasn't going to give up so easily. Qui-Gon had seen the protective glint in Tani's eyes. She might decide to tell Obi-Wan that someone was looking for him, and that, of course, could ruin everything. He entered the club through the main door, and proceeded to weave his way through the moving bodies, searching to be sure Obi-Wan wasn't here.

He was stopped by a slender young woman, who draped her arm around his back and leaned in close to be heard over the pounding music. "Hiya, handsome, love the way you feel."

Although the chain mail shirt was exquisitely crafted and, indeed, did feel incredible against his skin, Qui-Gon was not interested in the ploys of the young woman. Disentangling himself gently, Qui-Gon purred, "Thanks, but I'm already spoken for."

"Just my luck. Maybe some other time."

Qui-Gon held himself still as she patted his ass before leaving him standing alone again.

After several men and women had approached him and he'd turned them all away, Qui-Gon had completed his tour of the club. Now, he intended to search the back rooms. He walked to the hallway entrance but before he'd taken a step inside, a large, rather unpleasant-looking Rolocian barred his way.

"Tani asks that you stay in the club until Beauty is done with his client," the Rolocian growled.

"Thank you for the message." Qui-Gon gathered the Force and subtly waved his hand before the guard. "Tani wants me to admit you."

The guard's face went strangely slack and his voice was flat as he mimicked, "Tani wants me to admit you."

Stepping past the Rolocian, Qui-Gon quickly ducked into the hallway, focusing on the rooms for any sign of his padawan. His breathing quickened as he felt a starburst of sensation -- pain, pleasure, freedom -- ripple through the Force. Qui-Gon leaned his shoulder and head against the wall, staggered for a moment by the strength of Obi-Wan's release.

Now he knew which door Obi-Wan was behind.

Straightening, Qui-Gon hurried down the hall, only to be intercepted by Tani, pink hair falling in her eyes, blaster drawn. "Please don't make me hurt you," she said, the steel tone of her voice indicating she would do what it took to protect her workers and keep the peace.

"I'm not here to hurt him." Qui-Gon reached out with the Force again. "I'll put the blaster down."

Tani's arms shook as she heard herself say, "I'll put the blaster..."

Qui-Gon waved his hand again. "Down."

"Down." Slowly Tani lowered the weapon, confusion clearly written on her face.

Reaching out, Qui-Gon took the blaster from her loosened grip and dismissed her from his thoughts. Turning to the door, Qui-Gon opened it, entering to find Obi-Wan...

Gone.

Again.

Trying to control his disappointment, Qui-Gon scanned the room quickly. A large bed dominated the room, its sheets crinkled and damp. There were no windows but what looked like a closet door actually led to an exit. Qui-Gon stalked out the door, looking up and down the deserted back alley. There was no one there -- on the street or in the Force.

Obi-Wan had escaped him again.

Dejectedly, Qui-Gon re-entered the room, ignoring Tani who hovered at the other door. Sitting on the still-warm bed, Qui-Gon picked up a corner of the sheet and brushed it along his cheek, feeling the soft fabric against his skin, his beard. Burying his face in the cloth, Qui-Gon breathed in deeply, letting the scent of his padawan wash through him. "Obi-Wan, love," he whispered, letting the sheet soak up the tear that escaped from the corner of his eye.

Part 8

He was here, right here in this room. If Beauty opened the panel covering the niche within the wall and stepped out, he could touch him, stroke his face, trace the lines of his beard. He looked tired, older, sitting there on the bed where, moments before, Beauty had been enthusiastically fucked by a well-paying stranger.

When Jinn picked up the sheet and brought it to his face, Beauty had shivered, tremors running through his body. He couldn't decide if he was feeling desire or guilt.

Tani just stood at the door, a stunned look on her face. She had sent a warning, telling him that he had a very determined visitor. Just the thought, the terrified hope that he might be found, had brought Beauty to an explosive climax. He had barely had time to shove his astonished client out the door and slip into the wall compartment before Jinn walked in.

Jinn finally stood and faced Tani. His hair was longer, plaited into a braid that fell well below his shoulders. The body was leaner, whipcord muscles moving underneath the leathers he wore. "I don't want to hurt him. I just wish to speak with him. If he returns, please contact me. My ship is at the port. I need to speak with him."

Tani nodded, her pink hair bobbing. "I'll do what I can, Mister...?"

"Jinn."

Beauty closed his eyes as he heard the voice that haunted his dreams. That voice meant home and Light and peace and health. It had no place here, no place near his skin, slicked with sweat and semen.

The bed springs creaked slightly and Beauty listened to the hard boot heels click upon the floor. When he opened his eyes, the room was empty.

Jinn was gone.

Beauty stood for a moment and then slipped out from behind the piece of paneling. He quickly wiped himself down with the damp cloth on the small table beside the bed and slipped into his leather pants. Moving around the bed, he slowly ran his fingers along the sheet where Jinn had sat. A long strand of silver hair lay, almost invisible on the white sheets. Ben picked it up, wrapping it absently around his finger.

Tani came in quietly. "You okay, Beauty?"

Beauty nodded and forced a smile. "Fine."

"Old lover?" Her face was sharp and curious.

Beauty shook his head. "Old master. He feels we have unfinished business." When Tani opened her mouth to ask more questions, Beauty interrupted. "Look, I need a walk. I'll be around later."

Tani brushed hair out of her eyes, watching Beauty closely. "Be careful, dearie."

With a short nod and a smile, Beauty slipped out the door and walked the long streets, hoping for a glimpse of a tall man in chains and leather.

Crouched beside a ship, Beauty peered out at the tall, leather-clad figure walking towards a small transport. He had stealthily followed Jinn throughout the evening, watching as he searched through clubs and taverns.

"Looking for me. He's still looking for me." The words, said out loud, were almost a mantra of hope. It had been delicious, watching him walk. People were drawn to his strength, his power, and yet, Jinn turned them all aside. "He's looking for me."

Beauty's eyes were captured by a small, hooded figure moving gracefully towards his former master. He began to move forward, instinctively, to protect the back of the one he had been trained to follow, when the figure pulled back her hood.

Beauty heard Jinn's voice, unsurprised and tired, in the dead air of night. "Gaz-na'hr."

"Master Jinn."

Beauty's breath began to quicken. Jedi Master Gaz-na'hr. How many nights had he spent in the common room in her quarters, studying with Pzed? She had always been quick to laughter, her reptilian face seeming vaguely menacing even in joy.

"What can I do for you?"

Gaz-na'hr's facial scales flushed a bright green and she clicked deep within her throat. "You are not an easy man to find, Jinn. They have sent me to retrieve you. Master Yoda wishes you to return to the Temple."

The large hands dismissed her with a wave. "I have spoken to Master Yoda. He knows of my plans." Jinn began to move around the other Jedi towards the transport. Gaz-na'hr moved to block him, forcibly continuing the conversation.

"Master Jinn, your presence at the Temple is requested immediately."

Jinn simply shook his head, long hair moving on his back. Beauty tensed. Even at his master's most recalcitrant, he had never directly disobeyed an order from the Council. Why had they sent Gaz-na'hr? She wasn't an envoy and she rarely took off-world missions, spending most of her time teaching. Pzed had spent many evenings complaining that he had to do his mission training with other masters.

Pzed.

Beauty closed his eyes as the memory of his friend's pain-filled eyes hit him. Those bright, laughing eyes dimming as Pzed's body slid slowly down the salle wall, leaving a bloody smear. Those eyes emptying as he died. Died.

Murdered. Murdered by Beauty's own hand.

Beauty felt the anguish bloom within him again. Jinn could not be allowed to find him. Beauty could not bear to see the disappointment in those eyes -- better just to let it be. He was no longer a Jedi padawan, a champion of the Light. No, he was a whore, addicted to panac and pain and waiting for the moment when he would have the courage to simply stop.

When Beauty opened his eyes, he blinked and shook his head, trying to understand what he saw. Gaz-na'hr knelt before his former master. Within her upheld claws, she held Jinn's lightsaber. His 'saber? Why would she have his 'saber?

Jinn's hand raised with an involuntary jerk, stopping just short of touching that undeniable symbol of Jedi authority.

Gaz-na'hr looked up at him and Beauty saw the patterns in her skin swirl with sadness. "Master Jinn. Qui-Gon. We have both lost our padawan learners. There is not a day that I do not mourn my Pzed. I miss his laughter, his strength. He would have made a great mediator. He was already my friend." The harsh voice cracked under the intensity of her emotions. "I understand your pain, Jinn, but denying your destiny will not ease you."

The lightsaber was raised, inching closer to the outstretched hand where it belonged.

Beauty watched, fascinated, as the big shoulders slumped and the hand dropped back to Jinn's side with an audible thump. "I cannot, Gaz-na'hr. I am so close. I cannot."

Jinn moved around the kneeling Jedi quickly and hurried up the ramp of his transport. Beauty wasn't sure if the man heard the final words hurled at him. "We have lost two Jedi, Jinn. Do not make it three. Return to where you belong!"

Beauty turned and walked back towards town, face blank and emotionless. He retrieved his bag without alerting Tani and took the dosage of panac he was due. One sentence kept bouncing through his mind -- return to where you belong.

Return to where you belong.

He had enough credits to buy a filthy bunk on a rusty transport. As the cold of space seeped through his bones, Beauty whispered to himself, "Return to where you belong."

The ship was dark, lit only by the occasional blink of colored monitor lights. It didn't matter, though. Qui-Gon had spent enough time here to move effortlessly through the tight corridor into the small bedroom. He paced for a moment, feeling like a caged Noor-tiger, too keyed up to sleep, too tired to stay awake.

After losing Obi-Wan at Tani's, he'd combed the district, searching for any sign of his padawan. It had been frustrating and exhausting, and he was no closer to finding Obi-Wan -- who seemed to have gone to ground. To make matters worse, Yoda had sent Gaz-na'hr to confront him with his duty to the Jedi. Seeing his lightsaber in another's hand had felt incredibly wrong, but he couldn't claim it before finding Obi-Wan.

Damnation -- it was all just too much! Qui-Gon wanted to scream and rant and break things, his disappointment was so great. He'd sat on a bed still warm with Obi-Wan's heat, the sheets imbued with Obi-Wan's scent. Groaning, Qui-Gon tried to control his growing erection. Beneath the pain of loss, there was need, insistent, undeniable. He felt instinctively possessive of Obi-Wan, hating that he slept with others while running from his master.

Stripping off his clothes, Qui-Gon stood in the dark, letting his anger and fear and lust swirl around him. He couldn't dissipate his emotions. Earlier he had felt Obi-Wan in the Force -- felt the energy of Obi-Wan's orgasm. The strength of it still reverberated in his mind, shockingly powerful, tormenting his body.

Defeated, Qui-Gon settled on the bed. He wrapped his large hand around his cock and quickly, almost brutally, began to pump it. Images of Obi-Wan played behind his closed eyelids.

Green and blue lightsabers carved intricate patterns through the air, coming together with a crackle of energy, beautiful and dangerous.

His apprentice, face serious but eyes laughing, danced with him, 'sabers following the ancient movements of the kata, connecting them in the Force.

Skin slick with sweat, breathing harsh, his padawan danced with him, bodies connecting intimately, moving together in primal abandon.

Tight heat, incredible pleasure, minds and bodies one in the Force.

Obi-Wan.

Exhausted, Qui-Gon tried to control his ragged breathing, waiting for his heartbeats to slow. Absently, he touched his hand along his stomach, rubbing semen into his skin. Obi-Wan. He had to find Obi-Wan. Settling into a fitful sleep, Qui-Gon dreamt of his Obi-Wan, beautiful and dangerous.

Part 9

The festival of rebirth was slowing down and M'lss grinned tiredly at the bonfires burning in the distance. Her people were celebrating their freedom for the first time in longer than she cared to believe. Their joy and passion danced along the wind and she smiled as she walked through the emptying streets.

One day, perhaps in the next few years, she would have handmaidens, women who could help her find a mate. One day she would be dressed in silks of blues and pinks, running amongst the trees, chased by the one who wanted her. One day she would give birth to yet another Marshon D'lth.

One day she would die here, held within the arms of her people.

The city still smelled of ash on mornings when the wind blew strongly, but the people were returning, rebuilding. There would be more children soon, learning to weave, boys running through the streets laughing, girls playing in the open grasses.

Soon the land would purge the evil that had visited it and the people of Larquis would be whole.

Soon.

M'lss wandered into the huge stone building which had held the Loom for generations. When Nan had been alive, these rooms had been full with women weaving, talking, laughing. The colors had burst out, dancing throughout the room. M'lss smiled. Life was full of color then, cloths covering the walls like sunsets over oceans.

The walls were newly white, waiting for their adornment. M'lss walked over to the smaller Looms, running the silken threads through her tiny fingers. The new cloths were the sunlight filtering through the forest canopy, beams catching on smooth river stones and sinking into fallen logs.

A noise from the back of the building startled her and the fabric slipped from her fingers. "Easy, M'lss, the soldiers are gone. They have gone away and you are the Marshon D'lth and you are safe here. The soldiers are gone." Her whisper sounded loud in the empty space.

M'lss walked back into the room where the Loom was kept and stopped short. A man stood there, dressed in a simple outfit of leggings and a cream tunic, his long auburn hair gathered in a loose ponytail at the base of his neck. He didn't move, didn't touch the cloth on the Loom. He simply stared at it as if fascinated.

The energy surrounding this man was off-kilter, odd and broken. M'lss stared, peering at the colors swirling around him. There was no harmony here, only loose shreds streaked with blood and the dark purples of fear. His head and his heart were forcibly separated, a black emptiness preventing a flow which could bring balance. The agony painted around him brought tears to her eyes and yet, there was something familiar about the way he felt, some of those scars were so...

"Young Jedi!"

He whirled around, eyes wide. "Oh! Pardon me! I just wanted to see the Marshon..."

"I am the Marshon D'lth." The man looked charmingly young and naïve for a moment, before M'lss noted the unnatural age around his eyes. She had seen that age on men who had buried their wives, their sons. That age was sowed by pain.

M'lss looked at the young man, not bothering to hide her concern. "What brings you here, to my Loom on this night of festivity? Do you wish to find a mate to celebrate the coming of the spring?"

"No, Lady. I...I have no need for a mate and find myself unable to celebrate with your people."

"Surely to celebrate is an easy enough task, Jedi..."

He held his hand up, making a sound that grated with sorrow. "Not a Jedi. Not anymore. Not for a long time, my Lady. I came to speak with you, to beg a favor."

"A favor, Je..."

"Obi-Wan, my lady. My name is Obi-Wan Kenobi." That rough voice stumbled over the syllables as if he were not used to saying them.

"What favor, Obi-Wan? What can I do to help you?" Those slumped shoulders straightened and Obi-Wan looked at her. His eyes were old stones, worn and dull. "Oh, your light, Obi-Wan. Your poor eyes and your light." Tears began to flow down M'lss cheeks, tracing the deep ritual scars that traced from eye to chin.

The young man moved, knelt before her and touched his head to the floor. "I have come seeking the Marshon D'lth. I have need of a Weaver to heal great wrongs which have been committed. I am a willing and able participant in the Weaving." He looked up into her eyes. "I wish to sacrifice myself to the Web."

Her hands already moving down to touch his head in the ritual acceptance, M'lss stopped. "You...you wish..."

The dead stone eyes never wavered. "I wish to sacrifice myself to the Web. I wish to release this spirit to serve the greater Weave, to replace the evils I have committed with Light."

M'lss blinked, words caught in her throat. She could feel the hope, the need pouring off the trembling body kneeling before her. So young, so young to ask this of her. "You...you understand this is not an easy path, Jed...Obi-Wan? There will be much pain, many tears."

Obi-Wan nodded his head gently. "I understand, Marshon. I have already shed many tears. I have caused many tears. I would repay my debt, right what I have unsettled. Once my spirit is freed, another who is tied to me may also be released so he may reclaim his destiny, stand in the Light as is his right."

M'lss sighed and her breath caught a light wisp of Obi-Wan's hair. She watched it float up, hang momentarily and then settle against his cheek. Reaching down she brushed the hair back, feeling the rough stubble against her hand. "I will do my duty towards you. The N'sha offer their gifts freely to those who come open-handed."

Obi-Wan's relief was palpable as he stood. "When? When can we do this?" His voice trembled faintly and M'lss frowned.

"You must meditate, ready yourself. Tomorrow we will feast and speak of your life, of your hopes and joys, of your loves. Tomorrow you and I will celebrate that which you wish to bring with you. Then you will cleanse yourself and meditate for four dawns. On the fifth dawn, you will come to me and we will release your spirit."

Obi-Wan's eyes sparked with something that might be termed anger in a less empty man. "Marshon, that's six days. I had hoped that we could be quick..."

M'lss noted his reaction as she let her face slip into the mask of disapproval that she had seen her Nan wear so many times. "I will honor your request, Jedi, but I will not deny the Loom her ritual. You ask to weave yourself into the heart and soul of the N'sha, of the people of Larquis. You will become the air we breathe, the water that nourishes us, the soil beneath our feet." She raised herself up stiffly, chin jutting out proudly. "You have suffered and my heart is sore for your pain. My people have also suffered. Children have died, mothers have held bleeding babies to their breasts. Men have lost those who make them whole. I have listened to mourning songs for more moons than I care to remember. You are not the only one in pain, Obi-Wan Kenobi. My wishes will be respected."

Obi-Wan sank to his knees again, bowing his head. "My apologies, Marshon. I will be honored to complete the required rituals."

"You have not completely forgotten the art of diplomacy, Obi-Wan. That, in itself, is a remarkable thing." She reached down and stroked the soft hair again. "Come, let me find you a bed. Tomorrow we will celebrate you."

The sad, tired man, seeming to be a wraith creeping along behind her, followed M'lss up to the restored upper levels of the building. With a sigh, she led him to a small cot covered in soft blankets. She pulled the coverings back and watched as he slid in, an exhausted child who had seen something that was not meant for him. With a heavy heart, M'lss reached out and coaxed him into a deep sleep.

She looked at his face for a moment, seeing the tattered remnants of the sad but hopeful boy she remembered. "I will do my duty towards you, Young Jedi," she murmured, "but not with joy in my heart."

M'lss slipped silently down the steps, seating herself on the stool before the Loom. She grabbed the shuttle and began her own meditation, watching as the warmth of the sun replaced the sallow glow of the candles. With a grimace, she stood up and headed outside, meeting the tired and happy faces of her people. She smiled, and with that smile came no small pain. She raised her hands, palms upward, towards the people who looked to her for hope. "The Festival is over. The people of Larquis will bloom with the flowers. Let our lives begin anew."

She was back at her Loom before the cheering died away.

Part 10

She brushed out her black hair and wove it into a long braid before donning a soft ivory gown. M'lss was weary and heartsore and she was afraid she looked it. The day before, Obi-Wan had celebrated his life with her. They had spoken of his joy at being chosen to be a padawan, of lightsaber competitions won, of scared children comforted by his hand. Obi-Wan had smiled as he shared the joy of hot cha on a cold morning, of watching a field bloom to life, nurtured by the Force. He had told her of the bliss of being held within his master's arms and how he did not regret living that moment.

He had spoken of his sorrow -- of the agony of living without the Force he had grown to depend on for succor, of the realization that, in his ill discipline, he had taken the life of another Jedi. With tears in his eyes, the young man had admitted to wandering lost, looking for some emotion, some sensation to fill his aching soul, to stop his pain.

M'lss had slowly turned the conversation back to the joys in Obi-Wan Kenobi's life. His smile had been genuine, if filled with loss, as he spoke of friends, colleagues, even sworn enemies become shieldmates. He had spoken of his first kiss, the joys of playing hoverball and the freedom of flying that not even his current situation could steal away from him. He had smiled as he recalled bright, hot moments of passion and fierce competitions with fiercer competitors. He had lived moments of dancing and drinking and the pleasures found in the softness of night that contrasted with a youth of study and contemplation and the bliss of the Light upon his face.

By the end, all tears had been shed, laughter had been shared and both M'lss and Obi-Wan had been exhausted.

When he had fallen asleep, body worn from the lack of drugs it was used to, M'lss had contacted the little Jedi Master on Coruscant. After a brief flurry of conversation, which M'lss was not entirely sure she followed, the Jedi had directed her to Master Jinn, who was searching for Obi-Wan.

M'lss frowned. She wasn't entirely sure that speaking with Obi-Wan's former master was the right thing to do. It had been obvious from the agony in the younger man's face as he'd spoken of Qui-Gon Jinn that there was layer upon layer of pain between them.

M'lss sat before the old comm unit, weighing her options. He would come, if she contacted him. She had no doubt; she had seen the determination mixed with an odd brand of fury in his eyes when they had met before. The tall, bearded man had petrified her, had her sobbing into her hands like a child. Of course, then, she'd been more of a child.

With a sigh, she entered the necessary digits to contact Master Jinn.

"Jinn here."

"Master Jinn. This is the Marshon D'lth."

"Yes, M'lss. My master informed me you wanted to speak with me. However, I am extremely short on time. I have an appointment to keep." The once vibrant voice was dull and strained. "What can I do for you?"

"I believe it is what I can do for you, Master Jinn. I understand you are in the market for information?"

A long pause. "I wasn't aware you were in the business of selling information, Marshon."

"The N'sha give freely, Master Jinn. It would serve both you -- and your padawan learner -- to remember the lessons of diplomacy your master taught you." M'lss allowed her voice to settle into the frozen frustration she had been fighting since the young Jedi had reappeared at her Loom, making physical her first act as Marshon D'lth five years ago -- and her first failure.

"My padawan learner?" The Jedi master's voice lost its air of impassivity. "Obi-Wan? You've heard from my Obi-Wan?"

"I have not simply heard from your Obi-Wan, Master Jinn. In truth, he is sleeping three rooms away from me."

"How long has he been there? How does he seem? Is he healthy? Has he..."

M'lss closed her eyes against the barrage of questions. If she didn't know better, she would believe the Jedi master was attempting to draw information directly from her mind, even though there were systems separating them.

"Master Jinn! Obi-Wan came to me on festival night. He is very tired, very ill, in mind and body. He wishes to make amends for the pains he has caused."

"He asked you to contact the Jedi? To contact me?" Oh, there was hope there, bright yet contained.

"No, Master Jinn. Obi-Wan does not know I have contacted your Temple. I do so to honor my own heart, for your padawan has made a request of me that I cannot deny."

M'lss closed her eyes, hoping that she was being drawn to do the right thing, that the sacrifice of trust for hope was a fair one.

"A request, M'lss? What request?"

"He wishes to be released, heart and soul into the Web. He no longer wishes to inhabit his body, but to serve the Light and the Weaving."

An odd noise came over the comm unit, a fierce scraping that lasted for three breaths. "Master Jinn?"

"He wishes to die?" This voice was fury, low and thunderous, laced through with hot despair. "After all that I have done for him? After the searching, the hope, the tears? All of this and he wishes to die?"

"I am sorry, Master Jinn. I am duty bound."

"How long?" The question was snapped so quickly that M'lss was confused.

"Sir Jedi?"

"I am not a Jedi. I am Qui-Gon Jinn and I want to know when this ritual is to take place!"

"In five dawns. He will meditate until then."

"Five dawns?" There was that hope again, fierce and wild.

"Yes, Master Jinn."

"I have your word that Obi-Wan will not enter the Web until then."

"You do."

"Thank you, M'lss." The connection was severed.

M'lss straightened her gown and went to assure herself the young Jedi still slept. She would do her duty, if she had to. With hope and a touch of luck, the Master Jedi would do his.

Part 11

Qui-Gon was torn between excitement and fear. He finally knew where Obi-Wan was, knew that soon he would be able to see his apprentice, talk with him. The reason Obi-Wan had returned to Larquis was serious indeed. After all this time, Obi-Wan had given up. Qui-Gon took another deep breath, trying to control his need to panic, trying to center himself. He would just have to convince Obi-Wan to live.

Running his hands through his long hair, Qui-Gon sought Obi-Wan's padawan braid, stroking it between his fingers in a gesture that had come to signify comfort. Even if there was an empty space in his mind where their training bond had been cruelly severed, he still held a small piece of Obi-Wan.

Qui-Gon entered the new co-ordinates into his ship's navi-comp. He'd spent an incredibly frustrating day on Corellia looking for Obi-Wan before finding a woman who had seen him boarding a transport. Then he'd had to check each planet along the ship's route. If Obi-Wan was still on the ship, it put Qui-Gon even further behind, but if he'd left the transport, there was no telling where he could have gone.

Qui-Gon had been about to leave his ship to check another lead when M'lss' call had come through. Even though he was three days away from Larquis, he knew where he was headed and he knew Obi-Wan would be there.

There was reason to hope.

The last time Qui-Gon had been to Larquis, destruction and death had reigned. Now, the cities were being rebuilt and the people were cheerful and filled with hope for the future. As he walked from his ship to the building housing the Loom, Qui-Gon opened himself to the living Force, feeling the joy of a people and a land now free from oppression.

He wanted to free Obi-Wan and himself from the pain, wanted to replace it with the joy of love.

His steps faltered as he entered the stone building and approached the Loom. The last time he'd stood here, Obi-Wan had floated in the Weave, fighting the Dark, and he'd been...helpless, desperate. His brooding was interrupted by a soft voice.

"You are here."

Qui-Gon turned, looking at the woman before him. He remembered her as a scared child. A child circumstance had forced to grow up before her time. A child he had demanded help his padawan at grave risk to herself. Now he was here to make further demands of her. "Yes, Marshon, I am here. You must not allow Obi-Wan to give himself to the Web."

M'lss gazed sadly at the man no longer dressed in the uniform of a Jedi master. "Surely you understand that I must do my duty as Marshon." The last time she'd seen him he'd looked much bigger, scary and demanding. Now, he looked worn down, tired and desperate. Yet his eyes were the same -- a shining crystal blue glinting with determination.

"And I must do mine, my Lady. You must let me see Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon's voice was clear and sure.

"I can tell him that you are here. If he chooses to see you, then I will take you to him." M'lss knew that was not the answer Qui-Gon sought, but it was already a bending of custom and all she could offer.

Qui-Gon tensed, gathering himself for an argument. Stepping closer to the woman who held Obi-Wan's life in her hands, he reasoned, "If you hadn't wanted me to talk with him, you wouldn't have contacted me." Seeing that he couldn't intimidate her with his size, Qui-Gon lowered his voice and pleaded, "I must see him, M'lss."

Nodding, M'lss stepped back. The pain etched on Qui-Gon's face was heart-wrenching. "I will do what I can. Please wait here."

Before he had a chance to push further, M'lss was gone and he was alone with the Loom and his thoughts. Before the trouble, the people of Larquis were renowned as artists and craftsmen. The fabric woven on the Looms was more than art -- it embodied the spirit of the N'sha and the individual it was woven for. Obi-Wan had come to Larquis to be healed. Instead, he had suffered horribly, his cloth stained with Darkness.

Qui-Gon had bullied M'lss into freeing Obi-Wan from the Web, but the Darkness was still a part of him. All that had happened since then stemmed from that taint. Perhaps Obi-Wan had been correct in returning to the beginning. Perhaps there was a way to cleanse the cloth and heal Obi-Wan.

His thoughts were interrupted as M'lss returned, the look on her face already telling him Obi-Wan's answer.

Quietly, M'lss said, "Obi-Wan respectfully declines to see you."

Moving past M'lss, ignoring her attempts to call him back, Qui-Gon strode across the room and into the hallway. He would find Obi-Wan and he would talk with him -- no matter what.

Following a faint echo of fear and anxiety, Qui-Gon opened a door and found Obi-Wan sitting on a cot, arms wrapped around up-drawn knees, rocking steadily back and forth. "Obi-Wan," he whispered, instinctively stepping closer. Joy and love pulsed through him as he finally stood before his padawan.

Obi-Wan's head jerked upward, his tired, haunted eyes meeting Qui-Gon's for only a moment before dropping in defeat. "Go away."

Qui-Gon tried to ignore the pain that shot through him at Obi-Wan's rejection. "I'm here to help you."

Looking through the tangled hair that had fallen onto his face, Obi-Wan snarled, "I don't want your help. Leave me be."

Taken aback by Obi-Wan's tone, Qui-Gon tried again. "Please, let me help."

Laughing cruelly, Obi-Wan met Qui-Gon's eyes. "Help? You tried to help me before and look how well that worked! I've found my own solution to the problem -- one that will solve yours as well."

M'lss hurried into the room. "Please, Master Jinn, I must insist you leave. You are disrupting Obi-Wan's meditations."

Caught between M'lss' responsibility and Obi-Wan's rejection, Qui-Gon had to make a decision quickly. He needed more time to convince Obi-Wan to trust him and not enter the Web. Moving next to Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon gathered the Force to him and placed his hand on Obi-Wan's forehead. "Sleep."

Cradling Obi-Wan's limp body in his arms, Qui-Gon turned to face M'lss. "I am going to help him. Please give us the chance."

"I will continue to prepare for the ceremony. If you cannot convince him to change his mind, you will let me do my duty to him."

Slowly, Qui-Gon nodded. "It will be as you wish, Marshon."

"You may stay here with him," M'lss offered.

"No, we need to be somewhere else." Qui-Gon stepped past M'lss, carrying his padawan out of the stone building and through the streets to the forest he'd walked through once before when he'd searched for the Marshon.

Finding a glade bounded on one side by a granite outcrop and canopied by the overhanging branches of tall trees, Qui-Gon settled down onto the rich carpet of vegetation. Holding his love in his arms, Qui-Gon stroked the long hair off Obi-Wan's face, his hand seeming huge against the gaunt face. "Obi-Wan, love. Please, let me help us."

Part 12

Submerged in the living Force, Qui-Gon focused on the warmth of the sun on his skin, the subtle currents of air carrying the rich smell of soil and vegetation, the melodic cry of songbirds. He was surrounded by Light. Gathering serenity around himself, Qui-Gon opened his eyes.

Obi-Wan still slept against his chest, their heartbeats matching. As much as he wanted to remain in this peaceful moment, he knew he must wake Obi-Wan. Together they had to face the fear and the Darkness.

Carefully placing Obi-Wan on the ground, Qui-Gon propped him against a boulder. With the Force-inhibiting collar still around his neck, Qui-Gon couldn't sense Obi-Wan's mental state. Touching the damp forehead lightly, Qui-Gon whispered, "Wake up, love."

Qui-Gon could see the confusion in his padawan's face as he took in the trees and rocks and grasses. When his eyes found Qui-Gon, sitting a short distance away, they widened as memory returned and any pleasure in the tranquil surroundings vanished. Before he could object, Qui-Gon said quietly, "Please give me a chance to talk to you, Obi-Wan."

His beautiful eyes were dull, the lively blue-green darkened, and his voice was pained as he spoke. "Talk all you like, it can't change what must be. I'm tainted with Darkness; I've done horrible things. The only way to redeem myself is through the Loom." Unable to remain still, Obi-Wan pulled his legs to his chest and began rocking, trying to dissipate the pain of withdrawal.

"You are not evil, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said sharply. Startled by the vehemence of his words, Qui-Gon spoke more quietly. "The Light still shines in you. Together we can find a solution." Now that he was actually talking to Obi-Wan, all the things he'd wanted to say for so long flew from his mind, leaving only his core belief. "I love you, Obi-Wan. I want to help free you."

"How can you love me?" Obi-Wan jumped up, pacing back and forth. "You don't even know who I am!"

Seeing Obi-Wan's agitation, Qui-Gon stood slowly, trying not to intrude into his personal space. "I do know you, Obi-Wan, and I love you."

Qui-Gon watched in stunned silence as Obi-Wan tore off his shirt, then sat on the boulder and pulled off his boots.

"You don't have any idea what I've become." Obi-Wan stripped off his pants, standing naked with his arms hanging loosely next to his body. "Look at me, Master."

Cringing at the way Obi-Wan made "master" sound like a curse, Qui-Gon looked at his apprentice. The markings he'd seen at the races were now clearly visible, and Qui-Gon caught his breath at the beauty of the design. The wispy gray lines curling about Obi-Wan's neck and shoulders and tapering into cool blues and rich greens down his abdomen became hot, vibrant red-orange at his groin. Looked at as a whole, the design seemed to shimmer with movement and life. It was incredible. "You are very beautiful, Obi-Wan," he said, his voice soft with appreciation.

Obi-Wan ran his hands over his chest, tugging at the black metal rings piercing his nipples. "I'm not beautiful, I'm tainted. Do you know how many beings I've let fuck me?" His hand drifted down to caress his cock.

Qui-Gon watched with a combination of pain and arousal as Obi-Wan fondled himself. For the first time, Qui-Gon noticed the matching metal ring piercing the head of Obi-Wan's cock and a ragged scar running across his left thigh. "It doesn't matter."

"Really? Do you know how many beings I've let hurt me?" Obi-Wan turned around, showing his back. The wispy lines teased over his shoulders, fading to nothing. A series of evenly spaced whip scars dominated his upper back, a harsh statement written in flesh.

Struggling to control his anger at seeing the scars, Qui-Gon growled, "It doesn't matter."

Obi-Wan laughed as he turned, running his hands through his hair, flaunting his body. "Even without the Force, I can see your rage. You hate it that others have touched me. Face the truth -- I am no longer your perfect, pure padawan."

"It doesn't matter." Qui-Gon moved closer, daring to reach out and touch Obi-Wan's chest above his heart. "You are beautiful, Obi-Wan."

Qui-Gon traced his fingers up Obi-Wan's chest to the collar, feeling the cold dead-ness of the metal as he sought the clasp. Obi-Wan quivered beneath his touch, but didn't struggle to get away. The look on his face was stunned, an animal caught in a trap. A whisper of Force and a soft click and Qui-Gon opened the collar, removing it from Obi-Wan's neck. Letting it fall unheeded from his fingers, Qui-Gon rubbed Obi-Wan's skin gently, basking in the feel of Obi-Wan's Force-signature.

"You are beautiful, Obi-Wan, on the outside and on the inside. Nothing can change the core beauty of your spirit."

Qui-Gon felt Obi-Wan move into his touch, seeming to accept his love and support. Obi-Wan's tentative smile changed suddenly to a look of surprise and then Qui-Gon watched with concern as Obi-Wan's eyes rolled back in his head and he went limp.

Carefully guiding him down to the ground, Qui-Gon focused on Obi-Wan's Force-aura, trying to determine his condition and the cause of the collapse. He appeared unharmed, simply momentarily overwhelmed by the combination of the return of the Force, Qui-Gon's emotions, and his worn-down body. He should wake up naturally once the initial shock subsided.

While waiting, Qui-Gon was compelled to make a closer inspection of the changes to Obi-Wan's body. His hair was longer, but still soft to the touch. Obi-Wan's face was thin and there were dark smudges beneath both eyes, like he hadn't slept in days. Qui-Gon ran his fingers down Obi-Wan's cheek, feeling sorrow at the pain etched in the fine lines of the skin.

Taking a deep breath, Qui-Gon looked down Obi-Wan's body, trying to reconcile the intricate tattoo with his memory of Obi-Wan's flesh. Qui-Gon noted the needle marks on the insides of Obi-Wan's arms and thighs, and a scar slashing across the inside of his right wrist. The innocent padawan truly was no more; he had seen and done things no one should have to experience.

Without conscious thought, Qui-Gon's fingers touched one of the nipple rings, imagining how it would feel. Tracing his hand down the beautiful art on Obi-Wan's stomach, Qui-Gon was drawn inescapably to Obi-Wan's cock and the ring piercing the delicate flesh. The pain must have been unimaginable. Qui-Gon curled his hand protectively around Obi-Wan's shaft, fighting to accept the reality of Obi-Wan's need for extreme sensation.

Lost in his own confused thoughts, Qui-Gon didn't notice when Obi-Wan opened his eyes.

Part 13

His eyes flashed open and for a breath he was experiencing a dream -- his master's hand stroking him to erection, loving him. Then the sunlight caught on the ring and the dream dissolved around him.

His master. Qui-Gon. Touching him...touching him like so many beings had paid to touch him and how dare he take what Obi-Wan would have given freely. The rage swept through him -- a black tide -- and for the first time in over five years, the Force responded.

"Get your fucking hands off me!" The roar shook the trees, and small birds were startled out of their nests. Qui-Gon's face was frozen in a mask of shock as an unseen hand caught him up and slammed him bodily against a large boulder.

Obi-Wan stood, hair standing on end as the newly found energy poured through him. He stalked towards Qui-Gon, hands gesticulating wildly. His heart ached, but the feeling of the Force pouring through him was an unbelievable salve to the pains within him, Darkness or no.

"How dare you touch me again? Don't you ever get tired of taking advantage of me when I can't fight back?" Obi-Wan relished the moment of anger in his captive's eyes as Qui-Gon struggled against the Force holding him down.

The voice sounded as calm as always, though. "I don't remember you ever arguing, Obi-Wan. I don't remember you asking me to stop."

"To stop? But, Master, I'm a whore, remember? That is what happens to poor, lost padawans, didn't you know? We learn to fuck for fun and profit. Pay me and I will please you. Pay me enough and I will give you all I am." Obi-Wan stepped close, body moving sinuously over Qui-Gon's frame. His hands moved quickly -- even in his anger this body felt right, good underneath his fingers.

Obi-Wan nuzzled at the warm throat. Oh, he smelled like home. Obi-Wan breathed deeply, filling himself with memories. With a flat groan of need, he raised his head, searching for Qui-Gon's mouth.

With a jerk, Qui-Gon moved his lips away, preventing their mouths from meeting. Obi-Wan's breath caught in his throat as the situation hit him. Ripping his body away from Qui-Gon's, Obi-Wan glared at him.

"What's the matter, Master?" The honorific was dust in his mouth. "Don't you want me?"

"I desire you, Obi-Wan, but not like this."

"No? More rules, Qui-Gon? How many times will you decide how and when you want me? I am not a child to be made subject to your whims."

"I only wish to help you, Obi-Wan."

"Qui-Gon, it was your help that led me here years ago. Your benevolent care has left one padawan dead and another irrevocably broken."

"I will not make the same mistakes again. I love you."

"Love me?" Obi-Wan felt the panicked laughter begin to gather within his chest. "Force! You don't know me. I'm a body, Qui-Gon. A hole to be fucked for credits so I can get what I need."

"What you need? Listen to yourself, Padawan..."

"I am NOT your fucking padawan anymore!" The scream was raw and furious in his throat.

Qui-Gon's eyes were calm and serene. "What does it matter, Padawan? I am still your master."

"You and how many others?"

"It doesn't matter how many men, how much pain, Padawan. Your heart and soul belong to me. You can lie if you wish. You can throw yourself face down before strangers. You can destroy all you have worked for and it will not matter."

Obi-Wan turned away, jarred in the face of such faith, such unshakable hope.

"Do you hear me, Padawan?"

Obi-Wan whispered, the noise sounding lost and forlorn, "Not your padawan. Not anymore."

"I will never stop seeking you. If I have to search for you within the Force for eternity, I will find you and I will not rest until things are settled between us." The firm sincerity within Qui-Gon's voice rankled and Obi-Wan straightened, gathering Beauty's cynicism and inability to be hurt around him. Slowly he stalked to Qui-Gon, forcing himself to maintain eye contact as he closed the distance.

Obi-Wan reached up and stroked the braid within Qui-Gon's hair, wrapping it around his hand and giving it a firm tug. "And if I don't wish to be found?"

"No!" Qui-Gon roared, eyes flashing in fury. "Don't you touch that!" The Force restraints holding Qui-Gon melted away in a surge of power from the older man. Qui-Gon levered up from the stone and took a step closer to Obi-Wan, fiercely clamping down on the wild surges coming from the retreating man.

"This braid is mine now!"

Two steps back.

"You left it on your pillow, Obi-Wan. I woke up and you were gone and it was all I had to remember you by."

Slowly and steadily they moved across the clearing, Qui-Gon implacably herding Obi-Wan, even though his padawan still clutched the braid. "I woke that morning and searched for you, called for you until I had no voice. Your blood was in the 'fresher, Obi-Wan.

"I found your braid...your padawan braid left behind like so much garbage. After everything was over, THIS was what you left me."

Obi-Wan found himself backed against a tree, the furious Jedi master at his front. He stood silent, vision overwhelmed by the face of the man he had loved.

"All of this time, Obi-Wan, and this braid is all I have had. I will not allow you to take this from me. I cannot."

"Fine, Master Jinn. Keep the braid." Obi-Wan released it from his hand. "It means nothing to me." The almost-lie fell between them, leaden.

The fury seemed to leak from Qui-Gon's face. "Answer me one question, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan watched as Qui-Gon's hand reached over and stroked the still-bald space behind his right ear.

"Did it hurt enough?"

Obi-Wan looked into Qui-Gon's sad, tired eyes and told him the truth.

"No. Nothing has, nothing will."

"Let me help you, Obi-Wan. Let me help us." The large hand still stroked gently, the steady movement comforting both men.

"You say you still love me?"

"With all I am, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan covered the large hand in his own, pressing the palm to his jaw. "Then let me go."

Qui-Gon tore his hand away. "I will not. Not now."

The tremors running through his arms and legs began to make themselves known, the temporary boost of Force and adrenaline lessening. Obi-Wan sank slowly down the tree. "Qui-Gon, Master, I'm broken, tainted. So much pain, so much wrong. I...I need the panac, the pain. Please, Qui-Gon, if you love me, turn around and walk away. Go back to your ship. Go back to the Temple."

Lowering himself next to Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon looked at him solemnly. "Do you love me?"

"What?"

"Obi-Wan, do you love me?"

The nod was short and full of pain. "I did once, when I was a child, when I thought I knew you, but I can't..."

Qui-Gon's fingers covered Obi-Wan's lips, holding back the flow of words. "No justifications, no reasons. Just, do you love me?"

The nod again, covered by a swift shrug of his shoulders.

"Then grant me a favor." Obi-Wan was intrigued, first by the question and then by the joy filling Qui-Gon's voice. "Let me enter the Web with you, try to help you. No, don't interrupt -- listen! If I can help, then we both come out whole and we begin again. If not, then I release you, with my good wishes, and I return to the Order."

Obi-Wan considered for a moment. If Qui-Gon got into trouble, M'lss would pull him out. Qui-Gon was whole and untainted and M'lss wouldn't risk him. She would make sure of Qui-Gon's safety.

If it worked, then what would he do? He had no place to go, only the empty shell of a life to return to. Qui-Gon didn't know, didn't understand how far he'd fallen. Once the truth came out, once he knew, Qui-Gon would leave. Obi-Wan would be alone, but he would have his freedom and the Force.

"I have your word? If things are not solved, if I cannot escape this, you will release me?"

"I will."

"You will return to the Order? Return to your life? Forget about me?"

The larger man shook his head. "I will never forget you, Obi-Wan, but I swear to you that, if you cannot be healed, I will end your pain and return to the Jedi. Not that it matters, I will not lose you. This will work."

Oh, if it worked. Obi-Wan closed his eyes and nodded once, slowly.

"Thank you, Obi-Wan, for your trust. Now sleep, Padawan." Before Obi-Wan could argue that he was no one's padawan, not anymore, he was lulled to sleep by the song of the Force surrounding him and the feel of soft lips feathering across his closed eyelids.

Part 14

Qui-Gon carried Obi-Wan back into town, his steps lighter on the return trip, the fading sun warm on his face. Obi-Wan trusted him enough to give them a chance. He fervently hoped that their answers could be found in the Web. While they had made a huge step, things were not yet resolved between them.

M'lss appeared immediately as he entered the building. "Master Jinn, you return."

Qui-Gon nodded, speaking clearly to the composed woman before him. "We have come seeking the Marshon D'lth. We have need of a Weaver to heal great wrongs which have been committed. We are willing and able participants in the Weaving."

Eyebrows creeping upward, M'lss responded, "You wish to be Woven together?"

"Yes, my Lady. Obi-Wan is willing to let me try to help him. If, together, we are unable to erase the Darkness, I will allow him to give himself to the Web." It was difficult to admit the possibility of defeat, but he was honor-bound to end Obi-Wan's pain.

M'lss was silent for a time. "I will need Obi-Wan's cloth. It must be unraveled and re-woven to include your essence."

"I have it in my ship," Qui-Gon said. Even though the cloth was stained by Darkness, the rich blue-green fabric was beautiful, and Qui-Gon had carried it with him all this time.

"Bring Obi-Wan to the meditation room and then retrieve the cloth."

"Yes, Marshon. Thank you, my Lady."

M'lss stood before the Great Loom, preparing herself for the unprecedented task before her. Qui-Gon knew she was uncertain of the outcome, but he trusted her to do everything in her power to see them safe and healed.

Turning to Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon gently woke him up. "Obi-Wan?" The awareness and hope in Obi-Wan's eyes encouraged Qui-Gon, and he touched Obi-Wan's face, sending pulses of comfort and assurance to the young man. "We need to ready ourselves."

Obi-Wan smiled cautiously, rubbing his cheek against Qui-Gon's huge hand. "Yes, Qui-Gon."

"I need you to remember that, whatever happens, I love you. I want you healed so we can be together." Qui-Gon stroked Obi-Wan's hair, pushing the long strands off his face.

Obi-Wan sighed, closing his eyes for a moment and basking in the gentle touch. "I want that, too."

Qui-Gon kissed Obi-Wan's forehead and stepped back, beginning to take off his clothing. Obi-Wan followed his example, removing the clothes Qui-Gon had re-dressed him in while he slept.

The men stood side-by-side before the Loom, naked, one pale, one vibrantly colored, touching only along their sides, the tainted cloth held in their outer hands.

M'lss felt the currents of energy flowing around them, between them. Pain. Fear. Hope. Love. They were ready. Touching the cloth, she said, "Enter the Web and be cleansed."

Qui-Gon became aware of their surroundings. They stood knee-deep in a clear stream, the cool water bubbling gently over sand and pebbles. The landscape was barren -- lichens clung to rocks, thin soil supported sparse vegetation. The sky overhead was tinted pink, decorated with wispy clouds.

As he focused on Obi-Wan, he tried not to gasp in shock. This form was the same figure he had seen in Obi-Wan's subconscious when they'd originally removed him from the Web. His padawan was a mass of bruises and blood, every part of his body appearing tortured and beaten. Qui-Gon tried to maintain his composure, but when he realized that one of Obi-Wan's eyes had been punctured, the fluid running down his face and the eyelid protecting an empty socket, Qui-Gon felt fierce rage that his padawan had been hurt like this. He closed his eyes, sickened by the image.

When he had regained his center, Qui-Gon faced Obi-Wan, not exactly sure what to do. "Obi-Wan. You must be in such pain. Let me help." Qui-Gon reached out, but at the last moment pulled his hand back, uncertain if he should touch the devastated man.

He'd obviously made the wrong decision. Obi-Wan flinched as Qui-Gon's hand fell away, then snarled, "I know you don't want to touch me. You're too beautiful, too bright." At the scathing words, Qui-Gon looked down at himself, noticing the luminous glow that suffused his body. "Of course you wouldn't want to touch me, Qui-Gon. I'm tainted, broken."

"No, it's not that. I didn't want my touch to hurt you." Even as Qui-Gon hurried to reassure Obi-Wan, he struggled to believe his own words. "I love you, Obi-Wan." Despite the grotesque vision before him, Qui-Gon knew he spoke the truth. "No matter how you appear, I love you. I'm here for you."

Obi-Wan tried to smile, but his battered face and broken teeth turned it into a ridiculous caricature. "But this is what I am. The Darkness has infected me. How can I go back?" Defeat was clear in his voice.

Feeling the energy of the wind through his unbound hair, Qui-Gon reached out to Obi-Wan again. "Take my hand, Obi-Wan. Together in love -- it's the way to let Light defeat Darkness."

Unmoving, Obi-Wan looked at Qui-Gon's outstretched hand, strong and pure, and then his own, mangled and bloodied. "I'm afraid. If I touch you, I'll taint you also. I can't risk that."

"Please, Obi-Wan. We love each other. We can overcome the Darkness because together our Light shines brighter than it does alone. I want to touch you. I need you. I love you." Qui-Gon's hand remained before Obi-Wan's, unable to force Obi-Wan to accept the offer by reaching out further. "Please, I love you."

Slowly Obi-Wan's shaking, bloodied hand moved closer to Qui-Gon's steady, perfect one. "I want to be with you, Qui-Gon. I need you to end the pain, the loneliness."

Their fingers touched.

There was a figure in the distance, moving quickly towards them, malevolence dripping from him. The ground began to tremble slightly and the wind carried dark whispers of terror and agony. Obi-Wan snatched his hand away from Qui-Gon's and began to back away.

"Obi-Wan?"

"No, no I can't. No more, not again. You can't make me come back. No more. You promised me and I won't come back," the broken man gibbered, tripping backwards away from the encroaching figure.

"Obi-Wan? What's the matter with you?" The tall figure of his master moved towards him, hands outstretched.

The black cloaked figure continued to advance.

"You promised to protect me! You said you loved me and you promised to protect me and then you left me. Over and over again. You lied!"

Qui-Gon blinked slowly and Obi-Wan shivered at the concern within that face. "I'm sorry for taking so long, Padawan. I tried to find you. I...I made mistakes. You made mistakes. We're only human, Obi-Wan."

"Can't you see him? He's coming! He's coming closer and closer and I can't stop him. You said you'd protect me, Master. You promised."

"Who is coming, Padawan?"

He couldn't see it. He really couldn't. Obi-Wan blinked, feeling the empty tears gathering behind his good eyelid. The promises were lies after all. Qui-Gon couldn't see the danger, the Darkness running towards them. Couldn't see anything but Obi-Wan.

The Light had blinded him.

The face underneath the black cloak was hidden, but Obi-Wan didn't need to see anymore. It was here to get him, to hurt him again, and there was nothing to be done about it.

Obi-Wan turned his back to his master and waited for the blows to fall.

Part 15

Energy sparked between them, and Qui-Gon felt the chill of shadows creeping through Obi-Wan. The Darkness was there, strong and content to use the young man, but he had to drive it out. Sending a pulse of Light across their connection, Qui-Gon watched in horror as Obi-Wan's mangled body began to twitch, racked with uncontrollable spasms.

Refusing to release Obi-Wan's hand, Qui-Gon called out, "Obi-Wan, fight the Dark. Reach out for me. Come back to me."

There was a hiss of a lightsaber and Obi-Wan spun around, tripping over his mangled feet. "Master! Behind you!"

With a motion born from years of practice and utter trust, Qui-Gon raised his hand, lit lightsaber blocking a downward thrust. The sparks flew, lighting in the Jedi master's hair. "Master, can you see him? Can you see him? Your left, Master, block!"

Qui-Gon blocked, eyes never leaving Obi-Wan's face. "I can't see anything but you, Obi-Wan. What do you see?"

"The Dark! Right before you, the Dark! Please see it, Master. I... I'm not enough. I can't fight it"

"I'm afraid you'll have to, Padawan." The look on his master's face was almost surprised when the red glow of the lightsaber burned through his chest and he toppled.

Obi-Wan's scream echoed endlessly, mingling with the wind.

Without warning, Obi-Wan's free hand swung out, catching Qui-Gon's jaw. Grunting at the blow, Qui-Gon absorbed the pain, reaching out to stroke the younger man's face. "I love you, Obi-Wan. I won't let the Darkness take you."

Qui-Gon stood steady as Obi-Wan's foot kicked out, catching him in the thigh. He didn't fight back, merely spoke soothingly. "It can't win, Obi-Wan. We love each other and I won't give in to pain or anger and neither will you."

With a horrific shriek, Obi-Wan's body convulsed and then was still.

"I'm sorry, Master. I tried to save you, but you wouldn't see, you couldn't see..." Obi-Wan babbled, looking at the fallen man.

"He never will see, you stupid child. You have blinded him." The Dark voice was low and sincere.

Obi-Wan bowed his head beneath the weight of its truth. Maggots wove their way in and out of the weeping wounds on his arms. "I am sorry, Master. I didn't know. I just wanted..."

"You just wanted what, boy? To make him love you? To make him need you? To make yourself more than you are? Did you honestly think he would trust you? He refused you, never wanted you, never needed you. He left you."

Obi-Wan sighed. "He came back for me."

Qui-Gon moved slightly.

"You were a burden."

"I was his padawan."

His master's hand reached out slowly toward Obi-Wan.

"You blinded him to the Darkness."

Obi-Wan blinked at that and lifted his head. "He has never seen the Darkness. He cannot see the Darkness that haunts Yoda. He could not see the truth of Xanatos. He could not see the Darkness within me. He only sees the Light. I will protect him from the Darkness."

A lightsaber burned hot within his hand.

"He cannot truly love you, a murderer."

An impossible jump and a twist and Obi-Wan struck at his tormentor. The black cloak fluttered to the ground -- empty. "It is no matter."

He bent and cradled Qui-Gon's frame in his arms, eye searching the horizon.

Qui-Gon could see a hint of brightness in the blue-green eye. Moving closer, Qui-Gon carefully enfolded Obi-Wan in the circle of his arms, accepting.

Obi-Wan relaxed against Qui-Gon's body, accepting.

Qui-Gon felt the wind swirl around them, healing energy coalescing, flowing from him to his padawan. He carefully settled Obi-Wan onto a smooth rock and then scooped up handfuls of water, pouring them over the broken body, cleansing him.

At her Loom, M'lss carefully unraveled the stained cloth, watching the bodies caught within the Web. Gathering her tools around her, she closed her eyes, reaching within for the essence of those who had gone before her and began to Weave.

He walked with his master, one step behind and to the left, down a wide street. Obi-Wan smiled at the familiar back, watching the material sway and move with his master's confident stride. They were headed home from another peaceful, gentle mission. The Council was being easy on the pair as they adjusted to their old roles of Master and Padawan.

Life was finally back to normal.

"Beauty? Beauty, is that you?"

Obi-Wan stopped. Kynen stood at the side of the road, his whip in his hand. "Kynen!"

"Come along, Padawan. You don't know this man."

"No, Master. I..."

"Now, Padawan."

Kynen moved towards Obi-Wan and a crowd of people followed him. "Strip for me, Beauty. Strip for your master."

"No, Kynen, I can't do that. I'm different now. I wouldn't..."

The ruddy man laughed and Obi-Wan felt hands surrounding him, removing his clothes with surreal speed. He looked down at himself, the stain of the tattoo harsh to his eyes.

"What are those...things...doing there, Padawan?" Qui-Gon's hands touched the rings within his nipples gingerly, as if they would bite.

"I like them. I like the way they feel." His voice seemed smaller and he panicked, moving towards the crowd surrounding him. "I...Master, I need them. They're mine."

"Take them out."

Beauty shuddered and shook his head, feeling his long hair brush against his shoulders. "They're mine, Master Jinn. I want to keep them."

"Obedience, Padawan!"

Beauty felt warm mouths move on his neck, seeking out pleasure points and biting down fiercely. Hands caressed him, stroked him. "Please, please don't ask what I cannot give, Jinn. I'm not your padawan, not anymore."

The hands were harder, stroking his cock, pulling at his nipple rings. The pleasure and pain were overwhelming. Jinn's voice caused Beauty's head to jerk up. "You have to choose, Padawan. All of this or me. I need a padawan, a disciplined apprentice. You must forget what you have learned here. You must leave these passions behind."

"Qui-Gon, please!"

"Choose Obi-Wan. There is only so long I will wait for a whore and a murderer to redeem himself."

Obi-Wan fought to be free of the passion, the need. Heart sinking, he took a step towards his master, when he felt the achingly familiar sting of a hypo against his arm. The panac hit his body and he gasped with the sensation. The bodies surged around him and he lost sight of Qui-Gon's face. With the last bit of coherence, he screamed, "Qui-Gon! Master Jinn! Don't! Don't go!"

Beauty sat cross-legged on a soft pillow, looking at the naked pair in the river. The larger man had stroked and caressed and whispered to the shivering body for hours. "You can't have him back, Jinn."

"What? What are you doing here?" The large man's eyes were wild and concerned.

"I live here and Obi-Wan is mine. You can't have him back, Jinn."

"And why not? Who are you to tell me I cannot have my own padawan returned to me?"

"My name is Beauty, and your padawan is dead. You cannot have Obi-Wan because you cannot be trusted with him."

Jinn turned to the bleeding, broken body within his arms and caressed it. "He's not dead! I...I need him. I will save him. I must."

Beauty blinked, face impassive. "Do you love him?"

"What?"

"It is no matter to me, Jinn. You do not concern me, but I will know the truth of it. Do you love him?"

"Yes."

Beauty stood, smoothing his hands over his body. "Then, if you want him back, you should come with me." He turned, not looking to see if Jinn followed.

Part 16

The chains dug into his wrists and the smell of smoke made his eyes burn. He trembled as he heard someone moving behind him. The blindfold was heavy, not allowing any light, no matter how much he moved his head. The hands in his chin-length hair stilled him.

"Be still, my Beauty. What shall we learn today?" The voice was deep and cruel and Beauty grew erect to hear it. Hands stroked down his flanks, pressing deep, pulling him against his restraints.

His moan sounded like a prayer.

Strong fingers moved on his chest, pinching and prodding, before stopping at his nipples. "Today, my Beauty, I am going to decorate you. I'm going to run hard metal through this sweet flesh and lick the blood off with my tongue. Then, once they're in, I'll teach you something new. And Beauty?"

Caught somewhere between panic and anticipation, he listened, waited. A soft mouth began licking at his inner thigh, spreading his legs and still that hard voice whispered near his ear.

"If you scream prettily enough, I'll leave them in."

"Why? Why did he do it?" Jinn stood, shivering in fury as he watched Obi-Wan jerk and scream within his bonds.

Beauty smiled. "Watch him, Jinn. See his cock, how hard he is? What is he feeling, Jinn?"

"Humiliation, pain, fear..."

Beauty looked at Jinn, cruelty in his eyes. "Desire?"

Jinn's roar was supernaturally loud, rocking the room. "My padawan does not need pain to feel pleasure!"

Beauty sighed. "Jinn, your padawan is dead."

The Weaving slowed now, threads trying to recreate the forms they'd originated from. The collar of M'lss' shift grew damp with sweat and tears.

"Murdered him. I murdered him." Obi-Wan stood before the Council, hands bound before him.

"You have become infected with Darkness, Kenobi."

"You have murdered one of your own."

"Smiled as his blood dripped from your fingers."

Obi-Wan shook his head violently. "No! I was sick. I didn't have control. Pzed was my friend. I would never have willingly hurt him. I'm so sorry."

Qui-Gon stood behind him. "Is sorry enough, Obi-Wan?"

Obi-Wan detached his lightsaber from his belt.

"No."

Obi-Wan lay shivering on an ice-cold floor, hands scrabbling at the collar around his neck. "Please, Master, I'm so sorry. Please find me, please help me. Oh, Force, I'm so sorry." His body rocked as he attempted to catch his breath.

The pain was everywhere, inside, outside. He couldn't stay warm, couldn't find a way to keep the Darkness from creeping into his mouth, his open eyes, his nostrils. He was lost.

Bootsteps came by, slowed and the clink of a coin plinked as it hit the ground beside him.

"Worthless urchins. Get yourself something to eat and a bath, boy."

Wrapped tight within his master's cloak, fingers constantly creeping to the raw, weeping sore on the side of his head, Obi-Wan mourned himself.

"Stop it! He isn't lost! I found him!"

Beauty allowed himself a smile. "You did. I was surprised. I had been running a long time."

Those sharp blue eyes pinned him suddenly. "Why? Why did you run?"

Beauty shrugged. "It's what I do."

Jinn took a step forward, hands outstretched. "I won't let you go again, Obi-Wan."

"My name is Beauty."

"Fine. I won't let you go, either. Not now that I've run you to ground."

Beauty smiled and a thin whip appeared in his hand. "Prove it."

The bout was moving quickly, 'sabers flashing. The burn, when it came, shocked Obi-Wan. Suddenly the room was darkened, his body broken and beaten and they were back, back to hurt him and beat him and he was alone and scared.

His mind gathered the Force to it, trying to protect this fragile, broken soul it housed and he struck out.

"Obi-Wan, please!" Pzed's face, broken and bleeding. "It hurts, Obi. It hurts."

Obi-Wan gagged, the smell of death fierce within his nose and pressed his lightsaber against his own chest.

The lashes fell, fast and furious. They were perfectly spaced and timed, slowly driving him towards ecstasy. Beauty's cock was painfully hard, jutting from his body. He'd waiting so long for this, to know this truth for himself. "Oh, yes. Please! More!"

Half-naked body lathered with sweat, Jinn sobbed behind him, "No more, Beauty, please."

Beauty turned his head, feeling the pull from the chains at his wrists. "More, Jinn. Hit me. Make me come from the sting of your anger, from your passion, from the bite of your whip."

"I cannot."

Beauty felt a hot rage and snarled, "You will, or he dies here, in this Web, for your lack of courage. Do not think I will not protect him from your weakness."

The lash fell again and Beauty arched underneath it, body undulating. The blows fell on his back, his shoulders, his legs. The blows to his upper arms were a special agony, causing him to pull fiercely on his bonds.

The pain escalated and as the blood began to fall, Beauty slowly drew Jinn into himself, into his mind. The agony was sweet, and as Beauty savored it, he shared his passion with his tormentor. Shared the desire, the need for this pain because this pain meant love and sex and desire. Love was agony and Beauty knew this because Obi-Wan knew it because...

Jinn's horrified whisper was loud amongst the silence. "Because I taught him."

Beauty's hands fell from the dissolving chains. "Yes."

Blood from M'lss fingers dripped steadily upon the cloth as the bodies with the Web convulsed. "No, not both. I cannot lose them both."

Part 17

The river was turning cold, the clouds swirling in ever-darkening patterns. Qui-Gon leaned over Obi-Wan's convulsing body, shuddering. "What have I done? What have I done to you?"

"Jinn!" Beauty stood beside them in the river, blood slowly staining the water. "Jinn, you must focus now. You must remember why you are here."

Tear-bright eyes looked up and Beauty could see his reflection in them, tinged pink. "I taught him that it hurts to love. I taught him that."

"Yes. As he taught you that you cannot protect the ones you love from themselves. That is no matter now, Jinn. You must focus."

Beauty watched as Jinn's hand crept up into the long dark mass of hair and grabbed the lighter braid. With a fierce yank, he tore it from his head and held it out to Beauty. "Here, this is yours. I don't deserve it."

"No, no. You cannot give to me what is already mine." Beauty took the braid and turned it over in his hands with a wry smile. "This was my gift to you, Jinn. Hope. It belongs to you." Gently, Beauty knelt down and pushed the heavy mass of hair aside. Jinn's eyes widened as he felt the slight surge of Force reattaching it.

Beauty sat, head bent for a moment, enjoying the proximity to Jinn's body before rocking back on his heels to stand. Jinn looked up at him, brow furrowed, eyes moving from the still body in his arms to the man before him.

The fierce look of joy of Jinn's face was as beautiful as it was unexpected.

"Why, Padawan? Why didn't you come to me? Let me help you?" Qui-Gon's voice was soft and soothing and echoed in the cell where Obi-Wan was kept.

"I couldn't, Master. I couldn't."

"Why, Padawan?"

"I was tired. I was alone. I didn't mean to."

"Why, Padawan?"

"I was scared, Master. I was so scared."

"Yes, I know."

"Forgive me, Master."

The hand on his forehead was warm and gentle. "I forgave you long ago, Obi-Wan. Forgive yourself."

Beauty stood, stunned, in a simple, warm room full of books and art and soft furniture. "Where are we, Jinn?"

"We are home, Beauty. You haven't been here before, but it is your home." Jinn's face was serene and content.

"I have no home, Jinn. Why have you brought me here?" Beauty felt tendrils of anxiety swirling around him at this unexpected reaction from the Jedi.

Qui-Gon held out a long silvered braid to Beauty. "This is my gift to you, Beauty. A way home. I don't think I've told you how proud I am of you, yet. My strong, brave love. You have protected yourself so well. What a survivor you are, to stay whole without a way home for so long."

"I have no home, Jinn." His breath quickened as Qui-Gon moved in towards him, hand gentling him.

"Yes, Beauty. You have a home with me, always. You will never be alone again." The braid attached with a flare of heat.

Beauty picked up the braid, held it in his hand. "Woven together...bound. Jinn? Me?"

"You, Beauty. You and I. I have a request of you."

"Yes?"

"May I kiss you?"

The cloth began to move, bright strands of greens and golds danced together with bright blues. For the first time since the Weaving began, M'lss began to smile.

The sun was warm as Obi-Wan walked through the trees. The leaves were bright and there was light and life and...Pzed.

Pzed walked beside him, just within his peripheral vision. Neither man spoke or slowed and the walk continued until the trees thinned and the sun began to set.

Finally they came to the edge of the clearing. Obi-Wan sighed and turned towards Pzed. Pzed's face was familiar and haunting.

"I am sorry."

"I know."

"Please forgive me."

"There is no death, Obi-Wan."

"I want to stay, you know, but it's time for me to go home."

"I know."

Obi-Wan stepped out of Pzed's forest.

Qui-Gon's large hand traced the swirls along Beauty's torso. "It's the Force, isn't it?"

Beauty blushed and nodded. "I wanted to remember, to focus."

The laugh that came from Qui-Gon washed over Beauty, warm and delicious. "You never forgot. Shut away from the Force, full of pain, of Darkness and agony and you never forgot. You amaze me, Beauty."

"I don't understand, Jinn."

Qui-Gon smiled. "Your center, you never lost your center. You simply looked for it in different ways."

Beauty frowned. "If you say so, Jinn."

"Don't frown so, love. Enjoy yourself. This will all be forgotten when we leave the Web."

Beauty nodded, a hint of sadness in his eyes. "You know I'll be gone. You'll have forgotten me, forgotten who I am."

"Show me." Qui-Gon stood and held his hand out to Beauty.

"Show you?"

"I want your mark on me, Beauty. Show me your center."

M'lss watched as the pattern emerged upon Qui-Gon's body, a deep purple echo of the patterns within Obi-Wan's cloth. She began to finish off the edges. It was time for them to come back.

The water was warm against his skin. He opened his eyes and looked up into the smiling face of the man he had loved for years. "Hello, Qui-Gon."

"It's time to go back, I think."

He nodded and they stood together. They stepped out of the river and onto the bank, allowing the sun to dry them. The younger man stroked the dark violet patterns covering Qui-Gon's lower back.

"How beautiful. They look like..."

Qui-Gon nodded. "They look like your spirit. Come, Beauty, let's go back. M'lss will be tired."

"My name is Obi-Wan."

Qui-Gon woke feeling refreshed. Obi-Wan stood swaying at his side, weak but whole. Quickly slipping his arm around Obi-Wan's waist, Qui-Gon supported his padawan. "Obi-Wan, love, are you well?"

With a note of tired wonder in his voice, Obi-Wan said, "I think so."

Qui-Gon's hands roamed over Obi-Wan's body, rubbing feeling into his limbs. The younger man breathed in deeply and Qui-Gon felt a ghostly caress against his cheek. "Obi-Wan!"

"The Force -- it's tenuous, but I can feel the Force." Obi-Wan's brow furrowed as if expecting pain, then relaxed. "And the pain...it's gone."

Qui-Gon embraced Obi-Wan, letting his joy and love flow around them. He felt a soft touch as M'lss draped the cloth around their shoulders, binding them together in warmth and love.

Part 18

He sat cross-legged on his bed, looking down at his body. His tattoo moved as he undulated his stomach muscles. He lifted his cock, slowly turning the ring. His body was almost foreign to him, the designs and decorations seeming to belong to another person, another life.

With a sigh, Obi-Wan focused, pushing his body higher and higher. Images floated before his eyes.

Qui-Gon teaching him 'saber drills.

The sight of raindrops falling from trees into sightless eyes.

Qui-Gon's sad face as he looked upon the rings embedded in his nipples and cock, a look of disgust and horror marring the proud features.

The peaceful smile upon Qui-Gon's face as he sopped up the last of his meal with a piece of fresh bread.

The Force, leading him deeper into a Dark space, warning him of hardships ahead. There was loss coming and pain beyond imagining. Qui-Gon falling before him, a monster with a red lightsaber standing over the body.

"Qui-Gon! Master! No!"

"Obi-Wan? Relax. Focus, boy."

Obi-Wan blinked slowly, looking at the man standing before him. "What? Who?"

"Beauty...remember me?"

Obi-Wan nodded. Beauty was fierce and strong, wise eyes glinting in his gaunt face. He was nude, relaxed and unconcerned. Obi-Wan blinked and looked down at his own body, strong and unmarked. His padawan braid lay across his chest, beads bright against his beige tunic. "You're Beauty. You...you helped me."

The laughter was free and bright and Obi-Wan couldn't stop the smile that crept across his face.

"Helped you? Hell, I was you."

"I am sorry."

"For what? For the highs? The fucking? The racing? The running? Don't apologize, I've had fun."

Obi-Wan frowned. "Then why are you...why are we here? If I'm not supposed to apologize to you for your pain."

"Didn't the Jedi teach you anything?"

Obi-Wan blinked at Beauty. "You are here to protect me from the Darkness, from the shame of living the life I did."

"No. I am here because you can't bear the fact that it felt good."

"What? Being a whore? Fucking strangers? Losing myself in drugs?"

"Yes, little padawan. You think I am something beyond you? Outside of you? I am you, Obi-Wan. No more, no less. I desired nothing that you would not have searched for, sooner or later."

Obi-Wan grabbed Beauty's arms, shaking him. "I would not. I am not you. You are not me. I didn't have a choice..."

Smiling, Beauty moved closer to Obi-Wan, his body hard and sinuous. "No choice? I was your choice, Obi-Wan -- your choice. I am the shape of your shame and your guilt and your passion."

"There is no passion, there is..."

Beauty's face grew fierce. "There is what? Fucking your master. Calling him to you in the night. Wrapping your body around him. Don't tell me your Jedi lies, Obi-Wan. I am you as you are me and you cannot forget what we know." Beauty's head dipped, lips crushing against Obi-Wan's.

The passion sparked between them and Obi-Wan pulled Beauty closer. Their erections met, ground together for one tense moment before Obi-Wan jerked away. "No!"

"Obi-Wan! Obi-Wan! Force, what are you doing?"

Obi-Wan's eyes popped open. Qui-Gon stood at the door, hair wild around his head, face concerned in the darkness. Obi-Wan looked down at his naked body, floating above the bed. He was erect, sweating heavily. Clenched tight in his hand was his last vial of panac, unspent.

"Meditating, Qui-Gon. I was meditating." Slowly he lowered himself back to his bed and wrapped the sheet around himself, carefully hiding the vial from Qui-Gon's eyes.

"Meditating? You sounded...distressed." Qui-Gon moved across the room, robe wrapped loosely around him, and stood beside Obi-Wan.

"I haven't quite gotten my control down, that's all. After all, it's only been a few weeks, since...well, since we left the Web."

"We're in no rush, Obi-Wan. I don't have anywhere else I want to be."

Obi-Wan moved over, giving Qui-Gon room to sit. "Are you sure? This could take a long time and well, I'm not sure what you're getting out of this."

His progress over the last few weeks had been slow and often painful. After the first dazed days where simply to see Qui-Gon's face was a balm to his torn psyche, Obi-Wan had moved into a separate room. Qui-Gon hadn't argued, hadn't complained, and Obi-Wan had worked on his Force control alone. Qui-Gon was never far. They shared meals and passed each other in the hallways of the small house M'lss had placed them in.

"Getting out of this? Obi-Wan, I've wanted nothing but to find you, to know you were safe and whole. Just to see you meditate, to watch you as you work out, to see you smile when you talk with M'lss is a joy. I don't want anything from you, Obi-Wan."

They sat together, silent. Obi-Wan felt his eyes begin to close and his body relax. When Qui-Gon's fingers tapped against the clenched fist holding the vial of panac, Obi-Wan stiffened, but didn't open his eyes.

"Is it hard?"

He considered lying, and finally just shrugged. "It aches. The tremors are almost gone, I just miss it sometimes."

"Tell me how it felt?"

At that Obi-Wan did open his eyes. "Do you remember our first kiss?"

"Yes."

"It makes the fact that you didn't mean what I thought you meant bearable. It takes the empty, broken parts of my heart and lets them be filled by passion and sex and pain. It feels like flying, Qui-Gon. It feels like forgetting."

"I am sorry, Obi-Wan."

"Sorry? For this?" He held up the vial. "Don't be. It's..."

"No. Not for that. That is your choice. I am sorry that I allowed my fear to control me. I am sorry that I pushed you away. I am most sorry..." The deep voice trailed off.

Before he could stop it, Obi-Wan heard his voice asking, "Sorry for?"

"For not staying in bed that first morning and watching your face as you woke. For not tasting your lips the morning after we made love."

"Oh." Obi-Wan blinked slowly, mind racing.

"And Obi-Wan?"

"Yes?"

The large hand stroked across Obi-Wan's shoulder and down his chest. "I would never ask you to remove your adornments. I find them quite...intriguing."

"Qui-Gon?"

The robe slowly fell and Qui-Gon turned his back to Obi-Wan, exposing the dark tattoo saddling his lower back. Obi-Wan gasped at the sight and reached over, lightly stroking the marked skin. "How? When?"

The larger man leaned into the touch. "I left the Web with it. I keep looking at it, touching it and all I can think of is you."

Obi-Wan was fascinated. The tattoo was a series of deep violet crescents, interlaced with one another. Separately, they were very simple shapes, but together they created a complicated image with sharp points and smooth curves. He traced the edges, feeling Qui-Gon's skin jump beneath his fingers. "Oh! So soft."

Qui-Gon moaned quietly and turned to face Obi-Wan. His face was taut in the shadows. Seizing Obi-Wan's hand, he brought it to his lips and kissed the palm softly. With a smile, he shrugged the robe back on. "Maybe one day you can show me how another sort of decoration feels to the touch. Good night, Obi-Wan."

With that, Qui-Gon stood and left the room. Obi-Wan placed the vial of panac in his bag and settled back into the bed before what Qui-Gon had said hit him.

He laughed.

The sound was wild and free and honest and he felt a small, old scar fade within him.

Part 19

Slowly, days Obi-Wan had spent in solitude became days spent with Qui-Gon. With his former master's help, Obi-Wan built his shields, began his steps towards full recovery of his Force-sense, and helped his body recover from years of neglect. The city was enjoying its spring, flowers budding and warm breezes blowing. Obi-Wan found himself outside every morning at dawn, kneeling next to Qui-Gon, waiting for the sun to rise.

The evenings were spent with M'lss or simply relaxing together, developing a gentle flirting that built steadily until one man would back away, leaving the conversation for less evocative topics. Many nights, Qui-Gon would walk Obi-Wan to his bedroom door and Obi-Wan would wait, wondering if this was the night Qui-Gon would bend to kiss him.

Obi-Wan wondered what his own reaction would be.

Time was spent with M'lss, talking about the Web and its uses. Obi-Wan was constantly amused by her sense of humor, which bit deep and fast before being gentled by the weight of her station. The men sought her company and her memories, sketching out details, trying to figure out the exact sequence of events that had so altered their paths.

Obi-Wan's body was slowly changing, his tremors ceasing, his features filling out. Little by little, he began to settle into himself, to sort out the memories he had from the nightmares. He wasn't completely convinced the memories were less frightening.

Obi-Wan spent much of his mediation time releasing his anger, his fear into the Force. They moved easily, simply. It was the guilt that wouldn't leave. He and Qui-Gon spoke until they were exhausted, rehashing the situation, the repercussions. The facts never altered. Obi-Wan had killed a friend. Then Obi-Wan had run.

The nightmares began slowly, stealing hours of rest. Obi-Wan began dreading the darkening of the sky as night approached. His former life whispered to him, nights full not of dreams and tears and regret, but of flashing lights, pounding music and drug-induced passion.

He found himself sitting up, late one morning, holding his final vial of panac, body covered in sweat. His dreams were slowly becoming clear -- images of bleeding, broken men, lying before him. Obi-Wan knew he had debts to pay. Soon he would be well and soon he would have to leave Qui-Gon again. There was no space for a whore and an addict, not to mention a murderer, in the Jedi and he would not have Qui-Gon give up all he was for nothing. When he was healed, then he would leave. "But," he whispered to himself, "I don't have to go yet."

The disembodied visage of Pzed floated before him, eyes dead and accusing. "Oh, Pzed...I'm so sorry. I didn't mean..."

Obi-Wan felt the vial shift within his grasp. The panac, the panac would stop these dreams, at least for now. He popped open the vial and stretched out his arm. The sting of the needle was almost comforting because it meant the drug would hit...

Nothing.

Obi-Wan felt nothing. No rush, no metallic taste in his mouth. Nothing.

"Jinn!" The fury hit him again, dissolving any guilt, any fear. "Where the fuck are you? Jinn!" Obi-Wan stormed nude through the small house, causing chaos as he went. He found the older man sitting serenely in the kitchen, drinking a cup of cha and looking at a datareader.

The sight enflamed Obi-Wan's anger and he savored the feeling as the cup flew from the seated man's hand and shattered against the wall. "My panac. What did you do with it?"

A single eyebrow lifted, unmoved. "I got rid of it. You don't need it."

Obi-Wan stalked closer, the table shifting out of his way with a thought. "You did what? It was mine! Mine! I bought it! It belonged to me. I trusted you!"

"You don't need it, Obi-Wan." The voice didn't raise, didn't challenge, simply stated a fact.

The dishes on the counter began to vibrate, the more fragile glasses cracking. "How do you know what I need, you sanctimonious bastard?"

Qui-Gon snapped sharply, "Because I love you, Obi-Wan Kenobi, and I'm not giving you up to some drug. Now find your center and release your anger before I do it for you!"

The Dark energy poured from Obi-Wan in a wave, buffeting Qui-Gon. The Jedi Master stood up, unmoved. "I am not Pzed, Padawan. You will not win. Don't make me hurt you, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan blinked, suddenly horrified. With desperation, he pulled the energy back. It rocked through him, bouncing with viciousness through newly healed neural pathways. He threw his head back, clutching at his temples in pain. "Please, Qui-Gon. I'm sorry. Please..."

Qui-Gon took a step forward, looking into Obi-Wan's eyes. "Center, Obi-Wan. Drive it out."

He blinked, the pain causing bright flashes at the edges of his vision. The energy burned away his controls, leaving him gasping. "I...I cannot. I'm sorry, Mas..."

"You can. Here, let me remind you." With that, Qui-Gon bent and covered Obi-Wan's mouth with his own. Obi-Wan stopped. Qui-Gon's breath filled his lungs, moved through his body. There was nothing, nothing at all but that kiss and his reaction to it.

Qui-Gon's lips were firm, warm, constantly moving. Obi-Wan sighed as Qui-Gon's tongue caressed his. Obi-Wan felt that odd joy fill him, felt the Darkness retreat from the strength of faith and passion and love pouring off of Qui-Gon. The kiss continued, making both men breathless, and Obi-Wan moved closer, wrapping his arms around Qui-Gon's neck.

Qui-Gon pulled back, ending the kiss with a few long, slow sips from the parted lips beneath him. "Better?"

"I don't remember you using that particular training technique before."

"You're not my padawan anymore, remember?" Obi-Wan didn't miss the hint of pain in Qui-Gon's eyes.

"I know. So, what am I to you now? Your friend? Your pet project?" Obi-Wan couldn't contain his smile. "Your lover?"

"My lover. I like the sound of that."

A quick decision and Obi-Wan held out his hand. "Then, lover, let's make it true."

"Obi-Wan, are you sure? There is no need..."

He reached over and stroked Qui-Gon's erection before bringing the other man's large hand across to his groin. Obi-Wan ground his hips, letting Qui-Gon feel his arousal. "Oh, there's a need. That, I have no doubt of."

Qui-Gon's eyes narrowed and a growl started deep in his chest. Obi-Wan's bright laugh was swallowed as their lips met again. Qui-Gon gathered him close, their bodies undulating together. The kiss deepened and stars gathered behind Obi-Wan's eyes. He wrenched his mouth away. "Bed, now."

A swift nod. "Yes."

Qui-Gon's room was closest, and his robe easily removed. The bed was soft and warm, and Qui-Gon's naked flesh was glorious above him. Their bodies moved together slowly, learning each other's textures. Qui-Gon stopped and raised himself up, looking down at Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan shivered and forced his hands not to cover his body.

"I'm sorry."

Qui-Gon's chuckle soothed and amused. "Sorry? For these? Force, don't you see how erotic you look? I've had to force myself not to touch..." Qui-Gon dipped down to capture the ring at Obi-Wan's left nipple between his teeth. Obi-Wan gasped and threw his head back into the pillows. "Don't be sorry...I was just wondering if you liked it when they were pulled like this..." The ring was gently tugged and Obi-Wan bowed his chest, hands tangling in Qui-Gon's hair. Obi-Wan's body was played passionately, lips and fingers driving his desire as high as any drug-induced orgasm.

Hands slipped down Obi-Wan's stomach, drawing circles towards the soft curls at his groin. Qui-Gon smiled as his fingers trailed through the small pool of wetness on Obi-Wan's stomach. Obi-Wan groaned as Qui-Gon brought his hand to his mouth and licked each finger, savoring the intimate taste.

Qui-Gon's shoulders were slick and hot as Obi-Wan grasped them, turning the larger man onto his back. Obi-Wan arched, aligning their erections. "Lover. Feels so good, so right." Their bodies rocked together, Qui-Gon's hands grasping Obi-Wan's slender buttocks, driving the rhythm.

Obi-Wan dipped his head down, demanding a kiss, which Qui-Gon gave with a harsh groan, his orgasm pulsing on Obi-Wan's belly. The warmth and the kiss spiraled Obi-Wan up to release. Still kissing, Obi-Wan settled his body onto his lover's, gently stroking the large body beneath him as Qui-Gon fell into a soft sleep.

His lover.

How different it was, resting his head against the broad chest, listening to Qui-Gon's heartbeat, knowing that he was loved and not just another body.

Slowly, Obi-Wan moved off the sleeping man and settled on the side of the bed, hand rubbing their combined seed into the flames painted upon his body. He stroked the long hair, noting the lighter braid that was still worn. With a sad little sigh, Obi-Wan stood and headed towards his room.

Silently, Obi-Wan dressed in his leathers and green vest, packing the rest of his things in his sack. Qui-Gon loved him, had given up the Jedi for him. Obi-Wan smiled, the thought more than a little bittersweet.

"I cannot let that happen to you, lover. You deserve better and I have debts to pay. I would not have your name fouled with my wrongdoings," he whispered. He picked up his bag and headed for the door. "I'm sorry, Qui-Gon. I do love you. Good-bye."

Part 20

Obi-Wan was dancing for him. Qui-Gon leaned back in the soft cushions and watched as Obi-Wan's body moved sinuously around the fire pit. The flames lapped at his bare body, sending shadows and light flickering across the beautiful colors on his skin. Obi-Wan was the flame. Obi-Wan was --

Gone.

Qui-Gon woke abruptly, reaching out frantically to the other side of the bed. The sheets were cool to his touch. Not again! He'd finally believed they'd made a break-through, that Obi-Wan wanted to be with him, to share their lives, their love.

He'd believed that once before...and Obi-Wan had disappeared.

He wasn't going to let Obi-Wan leave this time. He simply couldn't give up his padawan again. Qui-Gon rose, heedless of his own nudity, and stormed out of his room.

Qui-Gon caught Obi-Wan creeping from his bedroom, dressed in leather and carrying a bag. Blocking the hallway with his body, Qui-Gon stated menacingly, "You aren't leaving."

Obi-Wan's face paled, but he met Qui-Gon's eyes. "I have to go. I've caused you enough trouble already. I have to return to Coruscant and face my crimes." Obi-Wan moved forward, but Qui-Gon didn't step back.

"You aren't leaving." Qui-Gon slammed his hand into the wall.

"I'll do as I wish."

"I will not do this again, do you understand me? I swear to you Obi-Wan, I will not allow you to leave me."

"You don't own me, Qui-Gon. You can't keep me."

"Keep you? Keep you!" Qui-Gon's voice raised in fury, his face flushing, hot. "I have looked for you, given up all that I have for you. I have turned my back on my family, on your family. I have denied my duty to the Light for you! I have done nothing but sacrifice who I am for you and you stand there and accuse me of wanting to keep you?"

Obi-Wan cringed. "I...I..."

Fury unleashed, Qui-Gon reached up and tore a picture from the wall, relishing the sound of glass breaking around him. "Silence! I have had enough of this! Enough of your fear and your anger and your guilt. I am finished. You will shut your mouth and listen to me or, Force help you, Obi-Wan, I will give you cause to regret it."

Obi-Wan stood, mouth agape, stunned in the face of Qui-Gon's ferocity.

"Let there be no confusion on this point, you will only return to Coruscant with me, Padawan." With a glare, Qui-Gon stepped forward, his large body looming over Obi-Wan. "Right now, we are going nowhere. We will reach an understanding in our relationship, then we will deal with the Jedi."

Taking an involuntary step back so he could maintain eye contact, Obi-Wan sputtered, "Our relationship? I am not your padawan anymore, Qui-Gon. You can't keep me from leaving, from doing what I must to protect you!"

Another step and Qui-Gon backed Obi-Wan into his bedroom. Obi-Wan wanted to protect him -- by leaving him. Even as he felt a warm glow that Obi-Wan cared enough to do this for him, Qui-Gon's anger rose even higher -- separating was not the answer. He would do whatever it took to make Obi-Wan believe that. "Let me make myself clear, Obi-Wan. I can, and I will, keep you from leaving. You don't seem to believe that we are in this situation together. The blame for the wrongs that have been done is ours to share. I will not let you shoulder the guilt, or the responsibility, on your own."

Obi-Wan dropped his bag, running his hands through his hair. He turned slightly away from Qui-Gon. "But it is my fault." Obi-Wan spun around to glare at Qui-Gon, cutting off his response by speaking over him. "All I'll do is drag you down further. You should just forget about me and go on with your life. You could be a great Jedi without me there as a constant reminder of failure. I will not let you be tarnished because of me."

Advancing on Obi-Wan and kicking his bag across the room with a growl, Qui-Gon pushed him against the wall. "Listen to me carefully, Obi-Wan. I wouldn't be here now if I didn't love you. I want us to be able to face the past and look to the future. A future together -- whether as Jedi or not. That's been the key all along. We are incomplete when we are apart, and strongest when we are together."

Quivering slightly, Obi-Wan took a deep breath. "Who are you to order me around? To decide my future? I am a whore, Qui-Gon. I have fucked strangers more nothing more than a hit of panac. I have slept on floors, in doorways, with people who I paid to beat me until I bled. You do not seem to understand -- I am a warm body in your bed, nothing more."

Smiling dangerously, his voice unwavering, Qui-Gon growled, "Let me tell you what I understand. I am your master, Obi-Wan. I love you and you are mine. That gives me the right to do what is best for you." Qui-Gon stroked his hand through Obi-Wan's hair, cupping his chin, one hand caressing the ring in his nipple. "You will obey me, as you have sworn to."

They were both breathing heavily now, scenting fear and arousal. "Mine. My beauty. You belong with me." Qui-Gon leaned down to capture Obi-Wan's lips, the kiss soft yet demanding.

When Qui-Gon released him, Obi-Wan licked his lips, reaching up to tangle his hand in Qui-Gon's unbound hair. "I belong to you?" Obi-Wan's grin was feral. "Prove it."

Seeing the challenge, the mingling of fear and need in Obi-Wan's eyes, Qui-Gon forced Obi-Wan's lips apart, ravishing his mouth. Qui-Gon's hand roamed over his chest, pushing the vest off smooth shoulders. Wedging his thigh between Obi-Wan's legs, Qui-Gon was reassured to feel the hard length of Obi-Wan's cock through the supple leather pants. Tearing his lips from Obi-Wan's, Qui-Gon demanded, "We will go to Coruscant, Obi-Wan -- together -- and speak with Master Yoda. Together in all things, protecting each other, loving each other."

Obi-Wan's eyes sparkled with hope. "Yes, Master."

That settled, Qui-Gon focused on the immediate future. Working his hands down, Qui-Gon cupped Obi-Wan's ass, squeezing firmly. Qui-Gon lifted Obi-Wan until he wrapped his legs around his master's waist. "I want you, Obi-Wan. I want to pleasure you, join us together in flesh." Walking across the room, Qui-Gon deposited his padawan on the bed.

"Yes, Qui-Gon." Obi-Wan opened his pants as Qui-Gon removed his boots. Wiggling his hips, the leathers slid down his legs as Qui-Gon tugged them off, leaving him naked on the bed. "I want you."

The seductive smile made Qui-Gon's heart race. Settling himself next to Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon kissed his way down Obi-Wan's neck to his chest, detouring to the nipple rings, tugging and teasing with his tongue. Tracing the meandering blue-green patterns down Obi-Wan's stomach to the red-oranges at his groin, Qui-Gon nibbled along Obi-Wan's hard cock until he reached the tip. The combination of the warm saltiness of Obi-Wan's skin and the cool, metallic flavor of the ring drove Qui-Gon to distraction.

Obi-Wan buried his hands in Qui-Gon's mane, holding on to the long strands as Qui-Gon's tongue lapped his cock. When Qui-Gon took the entire length in, sucking strongly, Obi-Wan cried out at the exquisite pleasure.

Before Obi-Wan could reach orgasm, Qui-Gon released him, sitting back, watching him writhe, vibrant colors moving against pristine white sheets. Qui-Gon settled between Obi-Wan's legs, lifting them to rest on his shoulders. "You are beautiful, love."

As Qui-Gon leaned down, Obi-Wan reached up, ghosting his fingers over Qui-Gon's solid chest. "You are magnificent, Master. Please, I need you."

Unable to wait any longer, Qui-Gon sucked a finger into his mouth then slipped it into Obi-Wan's waiting body. Feeling Obi-Wan relax around the intrusion, Qui-Gon replaced his finger with his cock, pushing slowly, inexorably into Obi-Wan.

Their groans and the slap of bodies echoed off the walls as Qui-Gon began to thrust steadily into Obi-Wan. The connection throbbed between them as Qui-Gon filled Obi-Wan again and again.

Buried deeply in Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon paused to look at his lover, sweat-slicked and desperate beneath him. A wave of possession swept through him, primal and demanding. Twisting his hips, Qui-Gon caressed Obi-Wan. "Mine, Obi-Wan. Now and forever."

Pushing against Qui-Gon, opened, completely filled by this wild man above him, Obi-Wan panted his agreement, "Yours, Qui-Gon. Now and forever."

The words reverberated between them, connecting them, binding them together.

Qui-Gon reached for Obi-Wan's cock, surrounding it in his fist, strong yet gentle. They moved together, sensations climbing higher and higher until they exploded, flying through space, bathed in the light of billions of stars.

Part 21

Obi-Wan sat in the bed, watching silently. Qui-Gon opened his eyes, blinking slowly. "Obi-Wan? Are you...?"

"Do you trust me?"

"What? Yes, of course." Qui-Gon's face was confused, eyebrows furrowed.

Obi-Wan smiled and reached behind him for a long piece of cloth. Running it through his fingers, he nodded. "Give me your wrists."

"Obi-Wan?"

Obi-Wan covered Qui-Gon's lips with his fingers. "If you trust me, give me your wrists. I will have balance between us, Qui-Gon. As I belong to you, you must give yourself up to me."

The emotions were clear in the older man's eyes -- concern, doubt, need. "Have I not proven myself for you? I have followed you, searched for you, found you."

"I know." Obi-Wan allowed himself to smile. "Now I want more. I want your trust."

The internal struggle was palpable. Fear of being duped, of Obi-Wan fastening him to the bed and leaving warred with the desire to prove his trust, his love. Obi-Wan didn't speak. He simply watched with hungry eyes until Qui-Gon finally closed his eyes and sighed.

"As you wish, Obi-Wan." The strong wrists were crossed and offered.

Obi-Wan wrapped the cloth expertly, tightly enough to hold but not cutting off the circulation. Obi-Wan raised Qui-Gon's hands above his head and fastened the cloth to the headboard.

Slowly, Obi-Wan dragged his fingers along the stretched arms. "Oh, so beautiful, so warm." The muscles in those arms twitched and Obi-Wan laughed to see it. Slowly he bent and buried his face into a warm armpit, breathing deeply. Qui-Gon gasped, pulling away slightly.

"Obi-Wan?"

Licking slowly up his shoulder, Obi-Wan moved to Qui-Gon's ear and whispered. "Shh, my love. I will make you cry out soon enough. Save your breath."

Carefully, Obi-Wan explored Qui-Gon's neck and ears, licking and tasting. Sharp nips were followed by fierce suction. Long moments were spent laving the pulsating vein in the arched neck, listening for the moans, the soft cries, the pleas for movement.

"More, Obi-Wan. Please touch me. Please, my love, more..."

Sitting up, Obi-Wan straddled Qui-Gon's waist, erection flaring. "More?" Deliberately he began to stroke his own hard cock. "You want this?"

Qui-Gon's head lifted off the pillow, straining. "Yes."

Obi-Wan smiled and continuing massaging his hardness, rolling the metal ring, feeling it move through his flesh. Qui-Gon's eyes were bright, wild, running from the hand moving steadily to the rings in his erect nipples.

"I want you, Qui-Gon. I want to feel my cock held between your lips, caressed by your tongue."

"Yes, Obi-Wan, anything. Please, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan slowly moved up Qui-Gon's chest, never dropping his gaze. "Oh, you beg so prettily." Slowly, he moved up to the panting mouth and entered the moist warmth. With a groan, he bent and wrapped his hand in the long hair.

Rocking his hips sinuously, Obi-Wan moved in and out of Qui-Gon's lips. The suction was exquisite, hard and needy. "Oh, so good, Qui-Gon. Your tongue, use your tongue..yes! Right there."

Obi-Wan moaned and thrust even deeper for a few moments before pulling out completely. Qui-Gon groaned, mouth following the wet cock. "Please, Obi-Wan. Please."

"Shh, Qui-Gon. We're not done yet." Obi-Wan moved to sit beside the writhing man on the bed. His flat nipples were caressed and gently grasped between thumb and forefinger. Obi-Wan chuckled as Qui-Gon arched underneath his touch. "So sensitive."

"Yes, Obi-Wan. I wish..." The whisper was harsh and full of passion.

"You wish?" Obi-Wan looked up and was captured by the need within the hot blue eyes.

"I wish I knew what you felt, what the rings feel like."

Obi-Wan stopped and felt himself blush with something akin to pride. He smiled and stood, moving across the room and grabbing his bag.

"O...Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon's face was confused, but Obi-Wan was warmed to see no fear, no concern.

The young man rummaged for a moment, coming up with a black velvet bag. Slowly, he drew out a thin needle and set it on the bed. Moving to his right nipple, Obi-Wan removed the thin ring and held it out. "I can make your wish come true, if you truly want it..."

Qui-Gon's hips thrust and he moaned low and raw in his throat. "Oh, yes. Yes, Obi-Wan. Mark me. Make me yours."

The ring and needle were quickly disinfected and Obi-Wan settled over his lover once again. Obi-Wan reached out and touched Qui-Gon'sleft nipple. Slowly, agonizingly, Obi-Wan teased the nipple into hardness, pinching and tweaking until it tightened.

"Are you ready, Qui-Gon? Are you sure?"

"Yes, Obi-Wan. Yes, now, please."

The needle slipped in quickly and Qui-Gon gave a short gasp, hands tightening upon their restraints.

"Almost done. Now the ring."

As he pulled the needle back out of the flesh, Obi-Wan threaded the ring into the stiff nipple. Qui-Gon screamed, hips thrusting wildly into the air as he orgasmed. Slowly, Obi-Wan dipped his head, licking at the drops of blood and sending a wave of healing energy at the same time.

Feeling his lover's hot seed splashed upon his naked flesh pushed Obi-Wan to new heights of excitement. "Oh! Qui-Gon!" Passion flowing within him, Obi-Wan moved down, between Qui-Gon's outspread legs. Gathering the hot fluid in his hand, Obi-Wan coated his cock and positioned it at Qui-Gon's opening.

"Qui-Gon?"

The older man moaned and nodded. "Yes, love. Now! Inside me."

Slow, shallow thrusts of his hips brought Obi-Wan deep into his lover's body. The tight flesh pulled at the ring imbedded in his cock and he stopped, breathing heavily through his mouth, trying to hold back the threatening orgasm. He began to rock, sweat dripping from his face and splashing onto Qui-Gon's writhing form. As he came, hips snapping, Obi-Wan bent and captured Qui-Gon's mouth.

Falling into bliss, Obi-Wan knew nothing but Qui-Gon -- his taste, his smell, the feel of him. With the last of his awareness, Obi-Wan untied the cloth from Qui-Gon's wrists and wrapped him within his arms.

"Mine," he whispered.

Qui-Gon's response followed him into sleep. "As you are mine."

Part 22

Obi-Wan watched the stars fly by. Less than a cycle to Coruscant, not even a day before he would walk back into the Temple and answer for his crimes. Less than a day before everything changed.

The shivers ran up his spine and his pulled Qui-Gon's cloak tighter around his naked body. He smiled sadly; he had lost the other cloak, left it forgotten in some street on some filthy planet.

"All threads have a purpose, Obi-Wan, even dropped ones." M'lss' advice to him echoed within his mind and he sighed.

"Stop it, Obi-Wan."

The deep voice, full of humor, startled him and he sat up with a jerk. "What?"

"Stop it. Come back to bed, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan smiled and shook his head. "I'm fine, Qui-Gon. Just watching the stars."

"And worrying. Come to bed."

Fighting back an exasperated sigh, Obi-Wan shook his head. "Go back to sleep. I'm fine."

Less than a day.

He almost missed the whisper of Force before the cloak began to slither off of his body. Obi-Wan grabbed at it, but it continued to move, leaving him naked and shivering in the chair. "That's cheating, Qui-Gon."

"It's warm here in bed." The laughter in that voice was warm and inviting. Obi-Wan shivered for two more heartbeats before hurrying across the frigid, empty space and snuggling against Qui-Gon's warm body.

"You're COLD Obi-Wan!"

"You wanted me back in bed, didn't you?"

Long arms wrapped around Obi-Wan's body and drew him in close, warming him. "I did. I don't like waking up without you."

"I know."

Obi-Wan rested, head lying against Qui-Gon's shoulder, finger threaded through the nipple ring, soaking up his warmth.

Drifting up from sleep, his eyes were drawn to the yellow bead on his old padawan braid. It looked right, somehow, cradled within Qui-Gon's darker hair. He stroked it, feeling it's smooth texture. Had it felt that way on his head? So smooth? Would Qui-Gon keep it after...?

Obi-Wan rubbed his fingers over one of the bright beads. Less than half a cycle before everything changed and he had just gotten Qui-Gon back, just found the Force again. Would they take everything away from him? What would happen to Qui-Gon? How could he face Pzed's master, show her how sorry he was...

"Enough, Obi-Wan."

"Oh! I'm just thinking. Sorry."

Qui-Gon sat up and slid the braid out of Obi-Wan's fingers. "Thinking were you? What about?"

"Going back to the Temple and what will happen to me, to us, there. It's been a long time since..."

"Since we were home?"

Obi-Wan sighed and slowly stretched. "The Temple hasn't been my home in years, Qui-Gon. I don't have a home there."

Qui-Gon, fingers trailing up and down the braid, suddenly smiled. "I believe I have something that belongs to you." Decisively, Qui-Gon moved out of the bunk and headed towards the 'fresher.

"Qui-Gon?"

"Just a moment, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan felt his stomach sink. Qui-Gon didn't understand at all. He didn't want his braid back, couldn't take it back, not now. Before Larquis, being a padawan was all he knew, all he understood. Things had changed, irrevocably. He thought Qui-Gon had understood.

He needed Qui-Gon to understand.

Qui-Gon came out of the 'fresher, holding a long, braid in his hand. Obi-Wan avoided looking at it, focusing instead on the strong, muscled body moving towards him. Obi-Wan moved over, giving the taller man room to sit. He closed his eyes and forced his body to relax. This is such a small thing to give him, to make him happy. A small thing.

"Obi-Wan, look at me."

Qui-Gon's eyes were smiling and he held out the long dark braid, shot through with silver. Obi-Wan looked at it and then looked at the auburn braid resting on Qui-Gon's chest. "Qui-Gon?"

"Woven together, Obi-Wan. Not as teacher and student, but as men, as lovers." Qui-Gon's voice was rough, a faint thread of concern running through it.

Obi-Wan took the braid between his fingers. It was still warm. "Bound together, Qui-Gon. Forever." He brought the braid up to the empty space behind his right ear. A bright flare of Force and it was a part of him.

He felt the laughter grow within him. "I hadn't realized..."

The skin around Qui-Gon's eyes crinkled as he smiled, slipping back underneath the covers. "Realized what?"

"That I missed this weight. It has been so long that I almost forgot."

"I didn't forget, Obi-Wan. I found you."

Obi-Wan nodded and stroked the long braid. "You found me."

Coruscant was close, but no matter. Obi-Wan was already home.

The End.