Master Apprentice Archive Quick search:

(Continued from wheel29.html)

Obi-Wan swiveled the pilot's chair to face Qui-Gon. "Thank you. I was sure we were about to be blasted into ionized gas."

Qui-Gon was staring at his hands as if dazed. "I don't know how I did that. It was as if ... as if my hands just took over ..." His eyes rolled up into his head and he dropped forward against the bulkhead like a dead man.

Obi-Wan jumped up, reached for him, winced and gritted his teeth as his blaster burn made itself known again. Gingerly he reached down, draped Qui-Gon's arm over his good shoulder, and half carried, half dragged the Master back to the bunk. Obi-Wan threw off his cloak, then rummaged through the 'fresher, where he was grateful to find a well stocked first-aid kit. He treated his own burn first, wrapping a strip of bacta-soaked bandage around it and injecting himself with a concoction of vitamins, stimulants, and immune-system enhancers to help his body heal faster. Any Force healing ability he had left would have to go to Qui-Gon.

The Master lay totally limp on the white sheets, now stained red in dozens of spots from Qui-Gon's oozing wounds. Obi-Wan stripped him of the black leather and threw the garment in the trash recycler; the collar followed soon after. He took a look at the emaciated wreck of a body before him and nearly wept, not only from horror at the things Qui-Gon had endured, but also from frustration and sheer exhaustion. He administered an injection, then wet down a sponge with bacta solution and bathed Qui-Gon all over, using the Force to assess the damage as he went. The broken ribs he'd tried to heal earlier had separated again -- that was the worst of the new injuries. Old scars and broken bones that had healed improperly would have to be taken care of on Coruscant. The bruises weren't too bad, except one on a kidney -- a cold pack sufficed for that. He disinfected and patched up all the cuts, welts, and burns, saving for last the nasty lightsaber burn between Qui-Gon's legs and the remaining injuries to his rectum. He handled the limp genitals with infinite care, pulling back the torn foreskin to find obvious signs of torture even there, and before he knew it he was sobbing out loud.

He sat back, clutching himself in a hug and rocking as he keened, his emotions totally out of control. Each time he thought he'd managed to contain the outburst he remembered Qui-Gon -- killing the men in the arena, killing Kyratos in cold blood -- and the sobs started again, wracking him with their intensity. He cried out from the depths of his soul, from the place inside that was still a frightened little boy, wailing, "Oh, Master, my Master..."At last he felt if he didn't do something to stop the fit he would be sick. He rose and draped his discarded cloak over the Master, then made his way to the cockpit and sat, head in hands, shuddering and sobbing, until exhaustion pulled him down into a deathlike slumber.

Obi-Wan awoke with a start. He wiped drool from the back of his hand and stood, testing his arm. It felt better; the hand was still a little weak, but able to grip a lightsaber again. The ship's chrono told him that thirteen hours had passed. He scrubbed a dirty sleeve against his eyes to clear them of grit and went to check on Qui-Gon.

The Master was still asleep. Good. Obi-Wan stripped and showered, running his clothes through the leftover water and laying them out to dry. He dug in his pack and pulled out his wrinkled set of Jedi tunics and leggings. The slide of the familiar, cool fabric against his skin felt like home.

He knelt beside the bunk and sought his center. After a few moments he drifted into a light meditation and purged the last of his unexpected grief into the Force. When he opened his eyes, he found Qui-Gon watching him from slitted blue eyes.

"That," the Master croaked, then cleared his throat and tried again. "That thing you do. I feel it. It feels like ... peace."

"Meditation," Obi-Wan said. "When you recover your memories, you'll be able to do it as well. How are you feeling?"

Qui-Gon closed his eyes. "Better. Very little pain." He opened his eyes again, and they shone brightly. "It's been a long time since I was not in pain. Longer than I can remember."

"What _do_ you remember?"

Qui-Gon pushed the robe aside, revealing his body in a casual lack of modesty, and swung his feet around to rest on the floor. Obi-Wan could see that the rest and bacta spray had done a lot of good ... most of the wounds were mere pink patches. He resisted the urge to reach out and trace a finger along one.

"I've remembered nothing more than before. But there are times ..." Qui-Gon cocked his head. "Such as when I held the lightsaber, or watched you use it. Or how I know it's called a lightsaber, even though I don't remember ever seeing one before. Or when I was firing the guns, and somehow I ... _felt_ where the enemy ships were ... Or now, when I sensed you meditating. But when I _try_ to feel the Force, it eludes me."

"It sounds as if you can still access the Force subconsciously, but your conscious use of it is blocked."

"Blocked ..."

"Deliberately erased or obscured by Kyratos, perhaps, or as a natural mental response to trauma, or even some sort of physical brain damage." He shifted closer. "Will you let me try to look into your mind?"

Qui-Gon nodded curtly. Obi-Wan closed his eyes, reached out to that connection he had always had with Master, and felt ... nothing. Not even the jumbled thoughts he usually saw in the mind of a non-Force sensitive. He probed deeper, and there ... something _wrong_ in the Force. He sat back and took a deep breath. "Some sort of mechanical device, implanted in your frontal lobe."

"Can you disable it?"

Obi-Wan shook his head. "It's like nothing I've ever seen before. We'll have to wait for the healers."

Qui-Gon tried to stand, then abruptly fell back to the bunk with a _humph.- He grimaced.

Obi-Wan jumped up, ready to help, but Qui-Gon waved him off. Instead, Obi-Wan went into the fresher and returned with a bottle of water. "Here," he said. "You lost quite a bit of blood. You'll be weak for a while, but we should be on Coruscant in a couple of days, and the healers will get you all fixed up."

Qui-Gon took a swig. "And then what? I just resume my duties?" His voice was suddenly bitter.

"That will be up to you, and the healers, and the Council. No one will force you into anything."

"Oh, of course not," he said sarcastically, and ran a hand through his cropped hair. His chin was already shadowed with a good growth of salt-and-pepper stubble. "It's not like I've ever been forced into anything."

Obi-Wan just looked at him. He didn't know where this mood had come from, and he certainly didn't know how to counter it.

"Tell me, Jedi," Qui-Gon said. His intense gaze bored into Obi-Wan, but his voice was calm, cold. "Where was your precious Force while I was stuck in that hell hole for the past thirteen years? What higher purpose did it serve?"

Obi-Wan shrugged. "I have no answer for you. I, too, have wondered why it is the will of the Force that I have had to suffer."

"Suffer?" Qui-Gon stood abruptly and banged his head on the bunk above. He ignored it and pointed a finger at Obi-Wan. "You don't know anything about suffering!"

Obi-Wan faced him, his own temper flaring. "Don't presume, _Master_, to tell me what I know and don't know about suffering!"

"Do you think anything you've suffered can compare to what she put me through? Do you have any idea what it's like to have your insides set on fire with an electric prod? Do you --"

"-- Yes I do!" Obi-Wan shouted him down. "I know exactly what it's like!" Obi-Wan began tearing at his clothes, ripping at the sash and jerking his tunics open.

"--know what it's ... " Qui-Gon stopped mid-rant and simply stared as the scars on the young Knights body were revealed to him.

"I know what it feels like to be cut by a thousand razors and have salt rubbed in the wounds." Obi-Wan tore off his belt and sash and dropped them on the floor. "I know what it's like to gag and choke on my own blood." He shrugged his tunics off and let them fall. "I know what it's like to scream until you can't scream any more." He stooped and stripped of his leggings, cast them aside. "I know what it's like to ..." he paused, finally choking out the words, "... to have your tormentor wear the face of the one you love more than life itself." He found himself near tears again, cursed softly, and turned, bit his tongue to distract himself with the pain.

Qui-Gon was silent for a long moment. Finally Obi-Wan turned to look at him. Unshed tears glittered in the Master's eyes. Qui-Gon opened his arms, and Obi-Wan moved hesitantly into his embrace.

They stood like that for what seemed hours, swaying slightly, each comforting the other. Slowly, Obi-Wan became aware of the man holding him, the feel of skin against skin, the smell and taste of sweat, the beating of the heart beneath his cheek. Despite his reservations, despite knowing this man was not _his_ Qui-Gon, it was all so familiar, so comfortable. He felt his breath catch and his penis swell with arousal.

He disentangled himself from Qui-Gon's embrace, but not soon enough. The Master took his chin in hand and lifted his face to look into his eyes. He raised a quizzical eyebrow. "You desire me?" At Obi-Wan's silence he added, "Is that why you rescued me? Are we ... but no. You would have been a child ..."

Obi-Wan pulled his face away and began gathering up his clothes. "I rescued you because that is what the Force told me to do."

"And that is all?" Qui-Gon shook his head. "No. There is more to it."

"I ..." Obi-Wan hesitated. "I thought I might ... might be able to love you. But now I know that isn't so."

Qui-Gon sat, hunched forward, elbows on knees, hands dangling. "And why not?" He looked up, a wry grin crinkling his blue, blue eyes. "I mean, aside from the fact that I'm ugly, scarred, old enough to be your father, so poor I don't even have one garment to my name, and apparently brain damaged?"

Obi-Wan shook his head, looked away. "None of that matters to me. But there's something I can't get past. Something that bothers me the more I think about it: you killed her."

Qui-Gon sucked in a breath. "Yes, I did. And I would do it again."

"And you killed those men. In the arena."

"You must understand something, Obi-Wan." He passed his hand through his hair. "Kyratos ordered me to do it."

"That's no excuse --"

"-- The first time ... I refused. She beat me, then had them executed anyway. That night she brought a young child to my chambers and killed him in front of me. It took him a long time to die ... I never refused again."

"But Kyratos ..." Obi-Wan waved his hand. "In cold blood ..."

"Is that what you think?" Qui-Gon sat back with a sigh. "Obi-Wan, she was awake. She was reaching for a weapon. You were in the corridor dealing with the guards, and I knew if she had half a chance she would kill us both. I did what I had to do. I did it quickly, with a lot more mercy than she ever showed me. But I will not say I am sorry." He rose and made his way into the 'fresher.

When he came out a few minutes later, scrubbing a towel through his hair, Obi-Wan slid to his knees before him and bowed his head. "Please, forgive me, Master, for making a hasty assumption about you."

Qui-Gon sat heavily on the bunk. He leaned forward and brushed his fingers through Obi-Wan's hair. "It's all right. You saved me. Whatever misgivings I have about the Force and my future, I will always be in your debt."

The thick, callused fingers continued to stroke him, and Obi-Wan felt his arousal stir again. He pulled back, stilling the hand with his own. The touch seemed to light another spark in him, and with something akin to despair he tried to clamp down on his body's response. The hurt, scarred creature before him was hardly in a position to enjoy or even accept an offer of sex. It had taken Obi-Wan many weeks before he could keep from flinching at another's touch, and he had only been a prisoner for a few months. Now, it seemed, his libido had returned stronger than ever, and with very poor timing. He had to get away before Qui-Gon became aware of his weakness.

He tried to pull his hand free, but the Master held it, pulled it to his mouth, kissed his knuckles, then the palm. Obi-Wan drew in a shuddering breath, his need increasing tenfold. "Please, Qui-Gon," he said huskily, still trying to tug his hand free. "You don't have to do this."

Qui-Gon placed a warm kiss on the inside of his wrist, another, drawing him inexorably closer. "I want to," he grumbled.

"I don't ... oh ... this isn't ... you don't have to ... to do this out of   ... obligation ..." Having been impeded on his progress up Obi-Wan's arm by the cloth of his tunic, Qui-Gon had begun licking Obi-Wan's fingers one by one, then taking them into his mouth and sucking. Meanwhile, his other hand had made its way into the folds of the tunic to caress Obi-Wan's chest with warm, sensuous strokes. Obi-Wan gasped and renewed his efforts to get away.

Just then Qui-Gon let him go. Obi-Wan fell back awkwardly onto his backside, tunics in disarray, eyes glazed with arousal, breath ragged, the front of his leggings stretched tight over a prominent, aching erection. Qui-Gon sat back, and Obi-Wan was astonished to see an answering erection jutting proudly between the Master's legs. "Does this look like obligation?" the Master asked, with a hint of a wry smile.

"You ... you want me?" Obi-Wan stammered. "Why?"

Qui-Gon chuckled, held out a hand. Obi-Wan took it and pulled himself back upright. Qui-Gon did not let go, but pulled him closer, into a light embrace. He brushed a stubbled kiss against Obi-Wan's cheek. Obi-Wan leaned into it, sighing. "The question is --" Qui-Gon's lips curved in a smile against the skin of Obi-Wan's neck, "why would a lovely," _another kiss,_ "strong," _another kiss,_ "courageous," _another,_ "young man like yourself" _another,_ "desire an old," _another,_ "scarred," _another,_ "slave," _another,_ "like me?"

Obi-Wan groaned. His hands had taken on a life of their own, stroking everywhere they could reach on that rangy body that was so dear to him.

Qui-Gon slid to his knees before Obi-Wan. He took the younger man's face in his hands and slowly drew him closer until their breaths mingled, lips a hair's breadth apart. Blue eyes met green, blurred, then closed. Obi-Wan's trembled.

"Let me do this," Qui-Gon breathed. "Let me give freely to you what others could only take."

"Yes," Obi-Wan sighed, and then the Master's mouth was on his, hot and sweet, soft lips pressing, tongue sliding gently against a pliant mouth that opened on a groan of need, fingers tangling in hair, hands gripping, kneading taut buttocks, hot bare flesh pressed tightly against dampening cloth, erections throbbing and thrusting with delicious friction.

Obi-Wan was dizzy from the taste and feel and smell of desire. He had never in his life felt this level of need, as if he might come simply from the Master's kiss alone. Yet he knew he must slow down, go gently, or risk frightening this wonderful, giving man who had placed so much trust in him. He rose to one knee, never breaking the kiss, then the other. Their tongues slid together in a sensuous dance as he gripped Qui-Gon by the shoulders and lifted him, shifting until he could lay the Master on the bunk. He broke the kiss and stood back, panting. He unfastened his belt and let it fall to the floor with a clank.

Smoldering blue eyes watched him as he continued to disrobe. The sash, the tunics, the leggings. Then he stood for a moment, letting the Master look his fill, before sliding onto the bunk and straddling him. He kissed one cheek, then the other. "Let me make love to you, Qui-Gon Jinn."

"Gladly," the Master rumbled. He relaxed back into the pillow and closed his eyes as Obi-Wan kissed him tenderly on the forehead, the eyes, the nose, covering his face and neck with warm, soft lips. His teeth nipped gently at Qui-Gon's earlobe, eliciting a slight gasp and involuntary thrust of the hips. Obi-Wan chuckled, nipped again, and got the same response. Qui-Gon tried to rise up, take control, but Obi-Wan pushed him gently down. "Let me," he said softly.

Qui-Gon nodded, his blue eyes warm with trust and love. Obi-Wan's heart contracted, and he let his love and admiration for this man pulse through the Force. Qui-Gon closed his eyes and sank back into the bed once more.

Obi-Wan licked his way down to one nipple, circled it firmly with his tongue until Qui-Gon was reduced to clutching the sheets and whimpering. He gave the other nipple the same treatment. By then, Qui-Gon's body was as taut as a bowstring. Obi-Wan paused, gentling him with sweet kisses to his mouth and face. He caressed Qui-Gon's arms with firm strokes, pulling the tension out of the ends of his fingers, until the master was boneless once more. Only the twitching, purple erection rising from his center gave away his still-urgent need.

Obi-Wan shifted until he was at the Master's feet. His hands and lips traced a path of kisses and caresses from the toes and soles all the way up to the crease of his groin, lingering at ankles and knees. When he reached the Master's erection he skirted it, laying nips and licks on the prominent hip bone and testing his navel with the tip of his tongue. Qui-Gon groaned softly and thrust his erection against Obi-Wan's chin, leaving a wet trail of pre-come.

Obi-Wan chuckled. "Soon, love, soon."

"Don't tease," Qui-Gon rasped.

"Almost there. Let me love you." Obi-Wan shifted and made his way up the other leg at the same leisurely pace. At last, when he felt the Master's insistent thrusts against his throat a second time, he relented and took the swollen tip into his mouth, sucking gently. The familiar mild bitterness of Qui-Gon's fluid was like sweet nectar to him.

Qui-Gon shouted and his body arched, nearly bucking Obi-Wan from the bed.

Obi-Wan chuckled around the silky hardness that filled his mouth, then slid down to take the Master's erection all the way to the back of his throat. He swallowed, using his throat muscles to caress the sensitive head, and Qui-Gon's hands tangled into his hair.

Obi-Wan thought about prolonging the Master's release even further, but he feared it might remind him too much of the torture he'd so recently escaped. Instead, he set his hands on the mattress on either side of the Master's hips, then used a touch of Force to relax his throat and let Qui-Gon use him for his pleasure.

Qui-Gon's hips rose and fell in an urgent rhythm, thrusting in and out of the hot, wet cavern that so tightly enfolded him. He threw his head back and groaned loudly as he thrust hard, once, twice, three times, and then his body was shuddering with spasms as his seed pulsed down Obi-Wan's throat.

Obi-Wan tenderly pried Qui-Gon's fingers from his hair. He cleaned his softening shaft with gentle licks and kisses, then bathed his scrotum the same way, until all the tension left the big body beneath him. At last he rose, smiling, and pulled himself forward to kiss Qui-Gon's lazy, sated grin.

Qui-Gon pulled him into the circle of his arms. "When I close my eyes I can see you," he said wonderingly, "like a light, a bright light, warm and strong."

Obi-Wan nodded against the shoulder he was nestled against. "You can see me in the Force."

"You're beautiful," Qui-Gon whispered, awed.

"As are you, Qui-Gon Jinn."

Qui-Gon shifted, started to roll them over, then stopped as Obi-Wan's erection prodded his thigh. "What about you?" he asked.

"I'm all right," Obi-Wan said hastily. "This time was for you."

"Oh?" Qui-Gon's eyes crinkled, and his hand snaked down to grasp Obi-Wan's swollen penis, causing the young man to gulp in consternation. "Are you sure?" He ran his thumb over the moistened tip, and Obi-Wan bit back a gasp.

"Really," said Obi-Wan in a choked voice. "I'll be all right." The Master's thumb continued to caress him, and his hips started to thrust of their own accord.

"Here." Qui-Gon released him and rolled to his stomach, lifting his hips into the air slightly in invitation. "I want to feel you inside me."

"No!" Obi-Wan recoiled. "I couldn't. Not after ... everything you've been through." The image of blood running from the Master's anus rose unbidden to his mind.

"Please," Qui-Gon said softly. "I want this. I want ... I want a good memory, to overshadow the bad. Please, Obi-Wan. Take me. Love me. Show me how it's supposed to be."

Tears stung Obi-Wan's eyes. "I don't want to hurt you."

"You can't possibly hurt me, Obi-Wan."

"I ..." Obi-Wan touched his hips, prodding him to roll over. "I need to see your face."

Qui-Gon rolled over and lay on his back, his feet planted to either side of his hips. Obi-Wan rose and went into the 'fresher, then came back with a jar of oil. He poured a bit into the palm of his hand and coated his penis, stroking himself to renewed hardness. All the while Qui-Gon watched with slitted eyes.

Obi-Wan warmed some more oil in his hands, then reached out and slicked some of it against Qui-Gon's opening. The Master tensed, and Obi-Wan drew back. "We don't have to --"

"I need this!" the Master growled emphatically. "Please," he continued in a gentler tone.

Obi-Wan thought for a moment, then set aside the oil and leaned forward. He kissed Qui-Gon very thoroughly on the mouth until they were both breathless. Then he scooted down and flicked his tongue against the Master's limp penis. The organ twitched, and Obi-Wan smiled. He ran his tongue lazily down the shaft from tip to root, then on down, circling each testicle gently, then further to the perineum and back up again. He made another circuit, and another, until Qui-Gon's erection was firm once more and the Master was moaning softly with each pass. Obi-Wan drew back for a moment, hooked his arms beneath Qui-Gon's bent knees, and pulled the Master's bottom to the edge of the bed. There. Now he was able to sit back on his knees and get to everything he needed.

He spread Qui-Gon's legs and began again, this time dipping lower, letting each circuit take him all the way down past the Master's anus and back up, where he took the swollen head of Qui-Gon's penis briefly into his mouth. On each pass he used the tip of his tongue to stimulate the bundle of nerve-rich flesh around Qui-Gon's opening, teasing but never penetrating, until the Master was once again thrusting in an involuntarily rhythm to match his strokes. The musky smell and  taste only fueled Obi-Wan's desire.

At last, after several minutes, he allowed himself a tiny push with the pointed tip of his tongue inside that tight opening. He was rewarded with a cry of pleasure. On the next pass, he did it again, harder, deeper.

Qui-Gon ground out impatiently, "Now, Obi-Wan. Now!"

Obi-Wan's arousal had grown physically painful, but he forced himself not to rush. He slicked his fingers and, taking the Master's penis fully into his mouth, he inserted one, then two, thrusting and stretching in time to the Master's thrusts. The tight muscle yielded to him readily.

He let Qui-Gon's penis slide from his mouth with a loud pop and tucked his shoulders under the older man's knees. He tugged him farther off the edge of the bed, rose to his knees, and pressed the head of his aching penis against Qui-Gon's opening.

He paused for a moment, waiting until Qui-Gon met his eyes. "Yes," Qui-Gon hissed. "Take me. Make me yours. Love me, Obi-Wan."

"I do love you, Qui-Gon," he said, and gently rocked himself into that waiting channel of heat. He felt Qui-Gon deliberately relax to let him in and he plunged forward, sliding all the way to his balls, letting out a loud, soul-deep groan as the pleasure of it threatened to finish him right then. He swallowed, tried to rein in his spiraling control, and then pulled out and thrust, a long slow slide in and out angled to rub the Master's prostate.

"Oh, yes!" Qui-Gon moaned. Obi-Wan pressed forward, bending Qui-Gon's knees back until he could lean down and take the Master's mouth in a searing kiss. He pulled out and thrust again, slowly, slowly, and Qui-Gon moaned even louder. His tongue flashed out, dueled with Obi-Wan's, thrust into the younger man's mouth with a steady, fast rhythm. Obi-Wan took the hint and sped up his thrusting to match, and soon they were penetrating each other, dancing to a song of moans and flesh slapping flesh. A steady stream wept from the head of Qui-Gon's penis as it rubbed against Obi-Wan's belly with each stroke. Obi-Wan knew he couldn't last much longer, but surprisingly, it was Qui-Gon who cried out first. The Master's contractions and the feel of Qui-Gon's hot liquid shooting up his own chest sent Obi-Wan over the edge as well, and he shouted as he pumped hot seed into the Master's body.

When his neurons started firing again, Obi-Wan realized something was wrong. He looked up to see Qui-Gon shaking beneath him, silent tears pouring from his eyes. As he saw Obi-Wan looking at him he frowned and tried to dash the tears away.

Stricken, Obi-Wan gently released the Master's knees, letting his spent penis slip out. He reached up to stroke Qui-Gon's face. "Did I hurt you? Are you all right?"

"Yes, yes. It's just ... I can't remember the last time anyone showed me any consideration or ... tenderness. Thank you." He sniffled and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.

"If I have my way," Obi-Wan said, and planted a kiss on Qui-Gon's chest, "I'll be showing you a lot more before I'm done with you."

Qui-Gon grinned at that.

Obi-Wan rose and fetched a warm, wet cloth from the 'fresher. He cleaned Qui-Gon, whose lower body still hung off the bed; the Master would have looked like a corpse except for the broad, contented smile on his face. Obi-Wan washed himself down and returned to help Qui-Gon back into bed before snuggling next to him.

"All that time," Qui-Gon said softly, "I was able to survive anything she did to me, knowing she could touch my body but she could never touch my soul. All those years, I knew there was some reason for me to stay alive, to stay sane. I think now, I must have been waiting for you."

"I'm ... amazed you did. I'm _glad_ you did. I love you, Qui-Gon."

"I love you, too, Obi-Wan."

Qui-Gon fell into slumber at once, but Obi-Wan lay awake, his mind and heart too full to rest. At last he had found "his" Qui-Gon, the one he could spend the rest of his life with. At last he knew the reason for all his pain -- so that he could help _this_ Qui-Gon in the aftermath of his own suffering. In all the "Ifs" of time and space, which of them could ever find another so perfectly matched?

But why then did the Force seem to nag at him, warning him he had something yet left to do?

Obi-Wan waited with Yoda and Lezli in the comfortable room set aside for family and friends next to the infirmary. It had been three days since they'd arrived back on Coruscant and the healers had taken Qui-Gon away for surgery and bacta treatment. At first Obi-Wan had refused to leave the waiting room, but with Yoda and Lezli both urging him to get some rest, he had finally relented and at least found himself a shower and some clean garments. They'd even found him a cloak, and he was able to discard the one that had been scored by blaster fire.

In the hours after they'd first made love, Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon had slept a short while, then had eaten a light meal. Obi-Wan had finally told Qui-Gon the whole story of his travels, including his time imprisoned by the Sith -- they had wept together once more before making tender, passionate love. After that, Obi-Wan felt that he had at last put his pain behind him for good.

Now he sat with the others in the crowded waiting room, where they'd been summoned when Qui-Gon was finally ready to be removed from the bacta.

The Duros healer, Shadka, approached them at a brisk, businesslike pace, his blue robes billowing. He stopped and bowed low to Yoda. "Master, your Padawan has recovered from his trauma with remarkable speed. We were able to re-break and set all the fractures without any trouble, and the rest of his injuries also healed readily under our treatment. He will have some residual scarring, which can be removed later if he so wishes."

"Glad I am to hear it," said Yoda. "And his nose, fix that, too, did you?"

Shadka smiled. "No, Master Yoda. It appears he has a standing order in his file asking for that particular "reminder" to be left as it is."

Yoda _hmmphed_. "Stubborn, he is."

"It is that stubbornness that allowed him to survive and return to us," the healer said. "His mind is remarkably resilient. After we removed the implant, he was able to regain his memories and his conscious manipulation of the Force almost at once. He will need some time to come to terms with the emotional ramifications of his ordeal, not only for what was done to him, but also for what lies ahead. He will need several months, at least, to regain his strength and fighting form. And there will probably be lingering bouts of anger, melancholy, nightmares, or other emotional problems. I have no doubt, however, that he will recover fully. He has expressed a wish to resume his duties and responsibilities as soon as possible. Frankly, I don't know of anyone who could have come through such tribulation even half as well. He is a remarkable human."

"That he is," Yoda said. "May I see him?"

"Actually, he has asked for you." The healer nodded towards him. Obi-Wan stepped forward, but the healer raised his hand. He pointed to Lezli, standing slightly behind him. "Knight Risge? This way."

Puzzled, Obi-Wan watched as Lezli gestured to one of the many Jedi sitting in the waiting room. "Come, Argen." A tall, lanky youth rose reluctantly and followed her. Obi-Wan had not noticed him before -- he was dressed as an Initiate and carried himself with a quiet grace despite his gangly appearance and the wrists that peeked from too-short sleeves. Something about him was familiar, and as he loped away, it hit Obi-Wan -- the boy was like an adolescent version of Qui-Gon.

He turned to Yoda. The wizened Master nodded. "His son, Argen is."

"His son? But ..." He stopped. Of course. "Lezli ... they were lovers?"

"Engaged to be bonded, they were," said Yoda. At Obi-Wan's startled gasp, he added, "Sorry I am that told you were not."

"It's not your fault, Master," he said automatically. But his knees felt weak. What did this mean? Qui-Gon, betrothed, with a son ... He clutched his hands in his sleeves and said a silent Litany of Fear. Yoda watched him with a look of sad compassion but said nothing.

At last the healer returned. "You may go in now." Obi-Wan followed Yoda down the hall to a half-open door. The little Master pushed it aside and entered. Inside, Qui-Gon lay propped up on pillows. Lezli stood beside him, facing the door, holding Qui-Gon's hand. The boy sat huddled in a chair, staring at Qui-Gon with a rapturous expression. Lezli and Qui-Gon both looked at Obi-Wan. As he met their tear-filled eyes, he saw joy in Lezli's ... and a tacit regret in Qui-Gon's that made his gut turn to water.

"Knight Kenobi," the Master said softly, apologetically, and held out a hand.

Obi-Wan turned and ran.

Lezli caught up with him in the Meditation Gardens. She knelt across from him and waited wordlessly for an acknowledgement. Obi-Wan looked up at last, weary and heartsick. In a husky voice that was little more than a whisper he asked, "Why?"

"Why didn't I tell you? I guess I was afraid. Afraid you wouldn't try as hard if you knew --"

He laughed bitterly. "I'm glad you think so little of me."

"I was wrong. I know that now. If I could do it over again ..."

"Forget it. Just ... just go. And congratulations. Best wishes and all that. I wish I could be happier for you but I just ..." His throat closed, and he waved his hand in the air helplessly.

"He told me what happened."

"Did he?" Obi-Wan gritted his teeth. "Did he tell you how I took advantage of him while he was injured and not in his right mind?"

"He told me your love and kindness healed him more than any amount of bacta in the galaxy could have."

Obi-Wan looked down and said nothing.

Lezli placed a hand on his. "Thank you, Obi-Wan. For loving him, for bringing him back. I owe you a debt I can never repay."

When he did not respond, she stood and walked away.

Obi-Wan continued to kneel, his mind a whirlpool of pain and anger that frightened him in its Darkness. For the first time in his life he truly doubted the inherent goodness of the Force. What was it all for, the death, the suffering? Every second, billions of beings were born, and billions more winked out of existence, most of them never knowing for what purpose they lived and loved and perished. And not just in this reality, but countless, infinite realities, in countless galaxies, sweating and bleeding and dying, their lives like specks of sand being ground by a merciless, indifferent tide. In one "If," the Jedi brought peace and justice to the galaxy. In another "If," the Sith exterminated all life on Coruscant. The Force didn't seem to care one way or the other. Perhaps this was "balance." Or perhaps the Force really didn't care where Obi-Wan went, what he did. Perhaps it was all some sort of cruel, cosmic joke. Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi Knight: a speck of sand in the tide, thinking himself so important that the Force itself would send him careening between worlds just to find a lover and a little happiness.

He laughed bitterly. He had been a fool.

"You would only be a fool if you never had doubts."

The soft, deep voice startled him out of his brooding. He looked up to see Qui-Gon standing over him, his hands folded in the sleeves of a dark brown robe. Light from the ceaseless traffic in Coruscant's night sky reflected off the Master's face, giving him an ethereal glow. Except for the short hair and stubble, he might have been Obi-Wan's own Master, come to him from beyond the grave. He drew in a shuddering breath.

"I owe you an apology," Obi-Wan began.

Qui-Gon stooped quickly and put a finger on Obi-Wan's lips. He shook his head. "You owe me nothing. It is I who owe you. I would repay that debt, if you will let me, for the rest of my life."

The touch of Qui-Gon's hand was warm and very distracting. Obi-Wan's brow wrinkled. "What are you saying?"

"I am asking you to bond with me."

His heart skipped a beat. "But what about Lezli, and Argen?"

"Argen is about to turn thirteen. I plan to take him as my Padawan Learner. As for Lezli ... "

Qui-Gon rose, and Obi-Wan rose with him as Lezli stepped out of the shadows. She wore her Jedi cloak, hood up and hands folded in the sleeves. Obi-Wan could feel determination and gratitude flowing from her, tempered by a pain she tried to hide. Qui-Gon reached out a hand, and Lezli took it, letting him pull her against his side.

"We've talked," she said softly. "I understand now that you and Qui-Gon have a special bond, Obi-Wan, one that transcends even time and space itself. I have released Qui-Gon from his promise. It was made long ago, when we were two different people. I have come to realize that it's enough simply to know he is alive and whole -- and home, thanks to you. For me to want more would be selfish at this point. All I want now is for him to be happy."

Qui-Gon was standing close enough to reach out with his free hand and stroke Obi-Wan's cheek. "Lezli is a good woman, and I do love her. But I cannot bear to think of losing you. It was a hard decision, for both of us, but she agrees it is for the best. Please, say you'll stay."

It was so tempting. Almost, almost, Obi-Wan said yes. But there was something in him, despite all his doubts and bitter longing, that drove him to move on. He could never be happy, he realized, if his bliss was built on the unhappiness and pain of another. The Force was nudging him, telling him there was yet something he must do before he could rest.

"I can't stay," he said at last.

Qui-Gon nodded as if he'd expected the refusal. "At least come home with us now," he said. "Let me have one more night, before I must live without your light to warm me."

Lezli nodded, reached out to brush her fingers along Obi-Wan's arm. "We will both love you, if you wish. Or only Qui-Gon, if that is what you desire. Let us give you this gift, to last you through your journey."

Obi-Wan was silent for a long time. "No," he said at last. He shook his head, moved almost beyond words by the love and desire he felt all around him. "No," he whispered again. "It's better this way." He stepped back away from them, pulled his special lightsaber from his pack. His hands shook. He had to go before he changed his mind. "Good-bye, Lezli. Good-bye, Qui-Gon."

Qui-Gon let go of Lezli and followed him. He reached out, took Obi-Wan's face in his palms, bent to kiss him. It was a sweet kiss, full of love and longing and regret, and Obi-Wan found himself drowning in it.

Qui-Gon pulled back. He stroked a thumb over Obi-Wan's brow. "You _will_ find him, Obi-Wan. And when you do, he will not love you despite your scars. He will love you because of them, as I do."

He let go and took a step back, letting his gaze travel once more over Obi-Wan's face as if to memorize it. "May the Force be with you."

"And with you," Obi-Wan choked. He closed his eyes, fighting his grief and a fearful reluctance to let go and jump once more into the unknown. After a moment he found his center again, shaky as it was. He pressed the switch.

FINIS Episode XXIX