by MrsHamill (thamill@mgfairfax.rr.com) and Anna
(connie23@iprimus.com.au)
Archive: By Master & Apprentice, my site, WWOMB and
SithChicks
Pairing: O/Other, Q/Other, O/Q
Category: Alternate Universe
Rating: NC-17 for the series; this episode rated NC-17
Disclaimer: George would hate me for this so let's not tell
him.
Warning: Oh, bunches and bunches. PLEASE heed them if you are a
particularly squickable person. Warnings may be found at the
end of the story text.
Summary: Traveling the realities of 'If' Obi-Wan stumbles into
a particularly bad place in his quest to be with his beloved
Master again. IT IS HIGHLY RECOMMENDED that you read at least a
few of the other eeps before this one; this one is very dark.
Notes: My lovely twin Mac basically volunteered Anna to help me
with this, and she ended up as co-author, to her surprise! I
owe them far more than even the IMF could repay. Love the
torture, babe! Fox, in her usual inimitable style, has also
been completely indispensable, especially with this one. The
woman is a complete wonder. As always, I pay homage to the
great SF author, L. Sprague DeCamp with this story. Although
I'm sure Larry would be appalled at the changes I've made to
his gentle fic.
Nervously, Obi-Wan pressed the doorbell to his old apartment,
wondering, hoping: could this finally be the one - could this
be it? His palms were damp and he wiped them on his tunic as he
waited for the door to be answered.
The door opened... and Qui-Gon stood there. For a split second,
he blinked at the shorter man, then staggered, his hand
automatically reaching for the door frame to brace himself.
"Obi-Wan?" he whispered, his eyes wide, his face a mask of
shock and disbelief.
"Master," Obi-Wan breathed, fighting to get the word out around
the lump in his throat. "It's... it's me."
"No... this... this can't be... you're dead..." Of its own
volition, Qui-Gon's trembling hand came up to touch Obi-Wan's
cheek, as if to prove that he was real.
Leaning into the light caress, Obi-Wan said, "I know. I died on
Naboo... it should have been you. It WAS you... in my reality.
Let me come in, I can explain."
Qui-Gon stood aside and watched with stunned and hungry eyes as
the young Knight walked into his quarters and looked around. It
was home, exactly as it had been before that horrible
trip to Naboo. Though Obi-Wan knew Anakin lived here too, had
lived here for almost exactly a year as Master Yoda told him,
he could find no evidence of it. There were even datapads he
remembered reading still on the desk, right where he had left
them. Turning in the middle of the room, he smiled at the
still-shocked Qui-Gon. "Why don 't you sit, it's a rather long
story." As the bigger man did so, taking a seat on the sofa,
Obi-Wan joined him, removing his robe and setting it and his
backpack on the floor.
Looking around as he explained, Obi-Wan spotted all the little
things that screamed "home" to him. The knickknacks on the
shelving unit. The tea cup on the side table. The spicy,
comforting aroma of Qui-Gon's favorite tea. The unmistakable
aura of Qui-Gon himself. All of this just reinforced his
feeling that he had arrived, finally.
"You see, you died, on Naboo," Obi-Wan said, concluding his
explanation. "And I had to build myself a new lightsaber, so I
did. But that 'saber, every time I turned it on, it took me to
a new reality, Master Yoda called them 'ifs'... places where
other things happened. In some of them," Obi-Wan took a breath
to calm himself, and tried not to respond to how avidly Qui-Gon
was staring at him, "in some of them, we both died on Naboo. In
some, I never existed, or you never existed, or the Sith had
taken over, always something. Never home.
"That was months ago. I've been searching, going from reality
to reality, hunting for home. Where I could tell you what I
never got to tell you before you died. Before you... you pushed
me aside for Anakin."
Qui-Gon's face suddenly crumpled in despair. "Oh... Obi-Wan.
I'm so sorry... I never meant to push you aside. I-I feel so
horrible about how I treated you. I wanted to talk to you, to
explain, but the moment never came up... I should have made it
come up. I couldn't have pushed you aside. You don't know how I
feel..."
"Oh, I do, Master, Qui-Gon, I do," Obi-Wan said earnestly,
sliding closer to the big man. "I know now. I've been fighting
for months now to come home, to you, to tell you I feel the
same. I love you, Master. I've always loved you."
Tears glistened in two pairs of eyes. "I don't know how this is
possible," Qui-Gon murmured. "Am I dreaming? I've spent the
last year kicking myself, hating myself, cursing myself and the
Force and any gods that would hear... oh, Obi-Wan..."
"You are not dreaming. I am here." Tentatively, Obi-Wan held
out shaking hands, to have them clasped in bigger hands,
equally trembling. Abruptly he was tugged forward and was
suddenly in Qui-Gon's embrace, and they were both laughing and
crying and holding each other so tightly and it felt so good,
so right... This was his Master. This was HIS Qui-Gon,
not a different Qui-Gon from a different reality that was not
his home...
The embrace naturally turned into a kiss, one lit with fire and
passion. Obi-Wan pressed himself against Qui-Gon, nearly
climbing into his lap in his need to feel more, to hold
tighter. Qui-Gon was saying something, over and over, the words
swallowed by Obi-Wan's mouth until the Knight managed to tear
his lips away long enough to decipher them. "Love you, love
you, love you," the Master was repeating as tears slipped down
his cheeks.
Obi-Wan kissed the tears away lovingly, running his hands
through the thick hair and along the strongly muscled
shoulders, pulling the familiar body so close... With a muffled
"Oomph," Qui-Gon jerked. "What the Force," he muttered, caught
between laughing and sobbing.
He had been running his hands down his former Padawan's back
and had encountered something. Obi-Wan also chuckled through
the tears he hadn't noticed were falling. "Oh.. sorry, that's
the 'saber..."
"The one that takes you..." Obi-Wan nodded. "May I see it?"
Qui-Gon asked.
Reaching behind himself, Obi-Wan pulled out the 'saber, careful
to keep his fingers away from the switch. Qui-Gon took the
thing and weighed it in his hands for a moment. Then, with a
hitch in his breath, he threw it against the wall so hard it
shattered into a million pieces. "You are home now, Obi-Wan.
Home." Clasping the violently-trembling Knight in his arms
again, Qui-Gon said, "I will never let you go. Home, Obi-Wan."
"Home, Qui-Gon," Obi-Wan choked out. "Oh, yes, Force yes, I
love you, I love you..."
"I love you, Obi-Wan. You. Only you. You... You...
You...You..."
"YOU! Hey! I said, get up!" A rough boot prodded his midsection
and Obi-Wan groaned. Coarse laughter and then another prod. "I
ain't telling you again! Now get up before we give you some
more!"
Struggling, still sleep-fuddled, Obi-Wan managed to struggle to
a sitting position, which appeared to satisfy his jailers as
there was no more yelling. He shook his head in an attempt to
clear it, then closed his eyes as memories flooded back. It had
seemed so real... he had been home. Home. Home was never so far
away as it was now.
He hissed as he felt the bruises - incompletely healed from the
yesterday's 'session' - still throbbing along his back and
ribs. At least the cuts weren't bleeding any more, he noted
with desultory satisfaction. Not having been fed properly in
weeks, almost since his initial incarceration four months
before, he lacked the energy to do more than a cursory healing,
and that only when the Force collar was off, which wasn't
often.
A low rumble in the hallway outside his doorless, windowless
niche of a cell told him that his daily slop was on the way and
his stomach rebelled. What food and drink was available was
rancid and nasty. But he forced himself to eat, to keep up his
strength. He knew that he would get out of this predicament.
Somehow...
The bent, old woman who pushed the slop cart stopped at his
cell and filled trenchers for him. She placed the disgusting
meal before him, just inside the limit of his chains, then
looked at him with something like sympathy in her eyes. "He's
back," she whispered. "His Lordship. He's back. Force pity
you."
Picking out the worst of the bugs and mold from his stale bread
and other, less distinguishable, food, he frowned, thinking of
her words. Who could 'he' be? She had said, 'His Lordship.'
Obi-Wan was aware that this Temple was Sith-controlled, so he
feared she was referring to Palpatine, whom he knew to be the
Sith lord in his own reality. But who...?
A commotion just outside the oubliette brought his head up. He
could hear the guards, loud and crass, speaking to someone
insolently, then heard a yelp of pain. Some grumbles and then
footsteps heading down the corridor. "It's this one," he heard.
One of the guards stood at the entrance to his alcove, and next
to him stood a figure in black.
After a moment, the black hood was lowered to reveal the face
of a stunningly attractive woman. Black hair and an oval face
were offset by lush, red lips and dark, beautiful eyes. There
was something dreadfully familiar about her, but Obi-Wan, in
his deprived state, could not figure out what it was.
She stood and looked at him for a long moment. Though he wore a
Force collar under the chains that bound him to the ring in the
wall, Obi-Wan suspected she was examining him with Force sense,
which just made her appearance all the more familiar. Though
beautiful, her face held a coldness, a harshness that sent
shivers up his spine. And her eyes... completely black, they
nearly glowed with something very much akin to madness.
Her jaw worked in evident distaste. "You've done a good job on
him. Such a pretty boy I'm sure he was... no longer. Good. My
Master wishes to see him later."
"As you say, Lady Kyratos," the guard mumbled, sneering
carefully at her back as she turned on one heel and stalked
away. After a moment, he joined her, leaving Obi-Wan in
confusion.
Kyratos...the name was so familiar. And the face, the voice...
so achingly familiar. Where had he seen that woman before?
For almost the last four months, Obi-Wan's day had been the
same. He was woken by harsh words and threats. He would be
'fed', then left alone for a while. By the late afternoon, the
guards would come for him, apparently taking their workouts by
beating him senseless, asking him questions he would not or
could not answer. For the first month or so, he was able to
retreat into himself, to float above the pain and brutality. Of
late, that was becoming increasingly difficult to do, probably
due to his weakness.
He was lucky, he assumed, and had not been assaulted with
anything other than fists, batons and whips. Once, he
remembered vividly, one of the guards had eyed him lasciviously
as he lay gasping on the floor, and Obi-Wan had gone cold to
see the man fingering the fastening to his pants. But another
guard had taken him aside and whispered something to him, which
put an end to that. However, from that moment on, the guard had
eyed him with something akin to pity and that was even more
frightening than the prospect of rape.
This day, however, was different. Late afternoon and nothing
happened, to his surprise, so Obi-Wan found himself dozing,
while one small part of his brain continued to worry at the
name Kyratos, trying to warn him of something - but the warning
simply wouldn't come clear. He opened his eyes to find himself
in bed with Qui-Gon and Obi-One, all three of them naked and
sweaty and sated and smiling. Qui-Gon rubbed the back of his
neck.
"What's wrong, Obi-Two," the big man asked.
"I'm... I'm trying to remember something," Obi-Wan replied.
"It's just not coming clear."
"You should meditate more," Obi-One said, slithering around him
to fondle Qui-Gon's genitals, smiling slyly at the big man.
"This is my favorite method," he added, then fastened his mouth
around the half-hard penis he was fingering.
Qui-Gon grinned down at his Padawan and stroked his head. "Yes,
that works. Trust in the Force, Obi-Two. Come here and let me
fuck you."
"N-no," Obi-Wan said slowly. "Something's not right."
"What's not right?" Qui-Gon said, his eyes suddenly glinting
darkly. "Well, if you won't then I'll take Obi-One. You're
exactly the same anyway," he added. Reaching down, he tugged
his apprentice up off his cock then sank his teeth into the
young man's neck. Blood spurted.
"Ah. Much better," Qui-Gon mumbled around his lips which were
drinking greedily. Obi-One sighed in pleasure and went limp.
Obi-Wan gasped and tried to cry out...
He woke up. It was late afternoon or early evening, hard to
tell in this horrifying place. A hard boot to his back was
stirring him from his uneasy slumber. Expecting this was to be
his normal beating session, he was surprised to be dragged to
his feet and out into the dimly lit, damp corridor. He tried to
walk but his two handlers didn't allow him the opportunity. As
he was pulled and dragged along an interminable hallway, he
overheard snatches of conversation.
"...Yeah, well, Kyratos is getting too big for her britches. No
longer most favored..."
"...His Lordship will see to her..."
"...Some apprentice..."
It suddenly dawned on him. Kyratos...the female for Xanatos!
That's where he had heard the name, in that reality where he'd
had to leave a badly hurt Sil-Wan to die. Kyratos was the
second Padawan to... oh, no. It couldn't be...
Finally, his mind reeling and body spasming, he was pushed
through a doorway and left to stand, wavering, alone. He
blinked in the dim light, his reality phasing in and out like a
badly focused image, his brain gibbering in panic. It was
different, this place. Warmer, and the air didn't smell of
urine and feces and blood. He tried to take a step, almost fell
and a voice spoke out of the darkness, a blindingly, horribly
familiar voice.
"Stay still. Do not move."
Ignoring the order, he turned towards the voice and felt an
invisible fist close around his throat.
"I said - do - not - move!" Each word was punctuated by a
savage increase in pressure and he choked, gasped for air.
A figure stepped out of the shadows. He stared at it, shocked
and mesmerized at the same time. Qui-Gon! It was unmistakably
Qui-Gon - and it was equally not Qui-Gon. Physically similar;
tall and slender, rich brown hair lying over his shoulder in a
long fall, bearded, and each facial feature exactly the same.
As they always were.
Yet this face was lined by dissipation, creases of cruelty
shadowing his mouth, his eyelids half-closed over predatory
eyes. When he came out into the light, Obi-Wan staggered
slightly: his eyes. . .those wonderful eyes, that had always
been that clear cerulean blue - they were gold, hard and feral.
His skin was pale, as if he rarely ventured outside, and it
contrasted starkly with the black he wore. Black everywhere,
from high-collared tunic, to black gloves on the long-fingered
hands, down over black pants and boots. He sucked in light like
a black hole.
And the way he moved - it wasn't a walk so much as a glide,
almost soundless, his long cloak swirling around him like
wings. He circled Obi-Wan, who felt as if he were being
visually dissected. The pressure on his throat had eased and he
took a shaky breath to speak.
"Qui-Gon . . ."
One black-gloved hand rose and cupped his chin. "You are very
disobedient. I don't know who you are or how you know that
name, but you will not use it. The only words you will address
me with, little Jedi, are Master or My Lord."
The hand wandered over him with proprietary ease, checking the
collars and bindings, unconcerned by his physical state. He
knew what this strange dark image of his beloved Master saw - a
chained Jedi, half-blinded by Force collars, beaten and
bruised, filthy from his own waste, a starved shadow of his
former self. Not a very attractive sight. The hand dropped and
the Sith stepped away, his face grimacing in disgust.
"You smell. I'll have you cleaned and then we'll see what use
you can be to me."
At some unseen signal, more emotionless creatures came and
carted him away, cleaned him with efficient disinterest, taking
no care at all over the open sores that riddled his body.
Obi-Wan could neither help nor hinder them and indeed barely
felt them; still completely in shock from what he had seen, who
he had seen, his brain was numb with a combination of terror
and despair. Finally, the washing seemed to be over and he was
returned, naked, to the same room.
Qui-Gon was seated at a desk before a high window that looked
out into the night sky of Coruscant. He continued working at
the dataset before him as Obi-Wan stood, swaying a little. He
tried to remember the last time he'd eaten... was it today or
yesterday?... and aside from the little water he'd managed to
sop up when they'd cleaned him, he was very thirsty still.
Chilled, weary, hungry and thirsty, still he steadied himself
and took deep, steadying breaths. Fear led nowhere but darkness
and there was more than enough of that around him without
making more of his own; indeed, the dark side seemed almost to
drown him, hammering at him like a hurricane at the door to a
hut.
He looked around, gauging his surroundings. It was obviously
Qui-Gon's personal apartment; there were several rooms to the
suite, some of which he could only glimpse through doorways. A
large bed was in one corner. A surge of elation, quickly
dampened... his backpack was on a table under the window. He
could see all three lightsabers arranged next to it, and it
looked to be completely intact. If only he could...
Finally, Qui-Gon stood and walked around the desk to stand in
front of him. A gloved hand forced his head up and golden eyes
fixed on his face.
"My guards tell me they found you in the Temple about four
months ago, while I was away. No one seems to know how you got
here, or what your intention was. I happen to know there are no
more Jedi, as I killed the last of them about ten years ago."
Golden eyes bored into him. "Who are you?" The voice was soft,
oddly gentle. "What is your name?"
"Obi-Wan. Kenobi." He held himself still under that unblinking
gaze. "Jedi Knight."
The wide mouth tipped up in a smile and the gloriously familiar
voice carried a hint of cold, cold humor. "Ah. Spirit. That
makes it so much more worthwhile. It isn't anywhere near as
pleasant breaking the already broken." The smile slipped a
little and Obi-Wan tried not to twitch as fingers slid around
behind his head to work up into his still-damp hair. "The name
means nothing to me and yet . . .you are somehow familiar. We
have never met, have we."
It was a statement, requiring only his confirmation. "We have
met many times," Obi-Wan said, equally quiet, reluctantly
locking eyes. "Just not in this world."
"Jedi spiritualism, how charming. I've missed it. Truly. Such
sophistry." The fingers touched the Force collar; there was a
click and it loosened and Qui-Gon slid it away from Obi-Wan's
throat. "There, you are in touch with the Force again, Knight
Kenobi."
Sweet Light, but it felt good! Even tainted and overwhelmed as
it was by the Dark, still Obi-Wan felt as if a strangling
blindness had been lifted from him. He sighed. "Thank you."
The Sith frowned, eyebrows twitching together briefly. "It
wasn't done as a kindness, young man, but I won't belabor the
point."
Obi-Wan reached out instinctively, seeking to read the man in
front of him, only to be met by impenetrable shields. It was
like trying to touch something long dead, a cold slippery
darkness, but he kept pushing, looking for something
recognizable. Sensing the probe, the Sith lashed out through
the Force, smothered Obi-Wan in a wave of Darkness that was
almost suffocating. Qui-Gon's voice came to him, icy and harsh.
"You wish to touch me, Jedi? Then come to me, join with me in
the Dark. It is the only way you will ever know my spirit. Let
go of the Light and you can . . ."
"No" Obi-Wan pulled back, sought his center and straightened
with calm dignity. "I am Jedi, as you...are. Were. I will not
turn." He tried to reached out again, an almost insubstantial
source of Light against that greater Darkness, his power a
source of perfect conviction. "Hear me, Qui-Gon - please -"
The wide mouth curled into an appreciative smile. "Oh yes. It
has been so long." The Sith stripped off his gloves and dropped
them onto his desk before stepping closer. He ran one warm hand
up Obi-Wan's chest, sharp nails running over nipples as
sensitive as raw nerves. The touch was feather-light, almost
tender - and then he was picked up in a crushing grip and
shoved backwards into the wall, the breath knocked from his
lungs, his head hitting the wall with such violence that he
almost blacked out.
"I hear you, Jedi, now you hear me.." He found himself
spreadeagled, arms and legs pinioned by overwhelming power. The
Qui-Gon monster was pressed against him, hissing into his ear.
"You will come to me willingly, beg to be turned and taken,
offer your innermost vulnerable places to me to touch and
taste. I will make of you a thing suitable only for my
pleasure." One sharp-nailed hand tangled in his hair and
pulled, sharply. "Such a lovely sight - helpless, defeated
Jedi..."
For one frozen, terrified instant, Obi-Wan was certain Qui-Gon
was going to kiss him, and both his stomach and mind rebelled
in horror. But a sickly-sweet voice from behind them rescued
him.
"My, what a picture, Master. I didn't know you went in for
half-dead whipped dogs. Had I known, I would have
procured one for you." It was Kyratos, her tone at once
insolent and furious.
Releasing Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon turned. "Kyra. I did not send for
you, my dear."
"No, you didn't, did you. Which gives me pause, actually. I do
hope you are not intending on letting that - that former
pretty-boy Jedi take my place." Her dark eyes gleamed with
malice as she raked Obi-Wan up and down. "He can't possibly
give you what I do, Master."
Qui-Gon's voice was silky as he gave his attention to his
apprentice. "Do you really think that, Kyratos? Or perhaps do
you feel that you are strong enough now to strike me down?"
Her chin lifted in defiance. "Never, Master. We were made for
each other. You've said it yourself."
"And yet, you continue to vex me with your impertinence."
"Perhaps you should do something about that then, Master," she
purred in reply, reaching a hand out and calling something to
her. His breath hitching, Obi-Wan realized it was a leather
quirt that looked well used. Never removing her eyes from those
of her Master's, Kyratos brought the whip to her lips for a
kiss, then held it out to Qui-Gon.
A lazy smile lit beloved features, and Obi-Wan shuddered.
"Strip, then, for me Kyra," Qui-Gon said, running his fingers
up and down the quirt. Turning to Obi-Wan, he said in a
conversational tone, "You see, little Jedi, here is a paradox.
She has been impertinent. She deserves punishment. And yet,
punishment is what she craves. So the question remains, is it a
punishment if it's what she wants?" Looking back at his
apprentice, who now stood before him nude, he ran the edge of
the quirt down between the cleft of her breasts. So quickly his
hand was a blur, he brought the quirt across the sensitive
nipples, raising a large welt and making her gasp
involuntarily.
"Is that what you want, my beloved apprentice? To be punished?"
"A-as you wish, Master," she gasped, her cheeks flushed.
"You-you know I will do anything you say, my Master..." she
murmured slowly, beginning to cringe away from something she
saw in his eyes.
"Well, then, punishment you shall get," he said, still in that
dreadful conversational tone. Abruptly, he was whipping the
tall woman, her head, her neck, her belly and breasts, and she
was gasping, twisting as she tried to avoid them. This was
obviously far more than she had intended, and she cried out,
taking involuntary steps back away from the arm that rained
blows down upon her.
"Master... No!" she gasped, trying to evade. "Please... That's
not..."
Twisting in his invisible chains, Obi-Wan tried to break free
to come to the young woman's aid. Without even looking at him,
Qui-Gon tightened the bonds that held him to the wall,
threatening to cut off the circulation to his hands and feet.
Another bond was added to his neck, keeping his head steady so
that he could not turn away from the spectacle before him.
"You wanted punishment, my young apprentice, here you are!"
Qui-Gon said, laughing lightly as he alternated blows from the
quirt with blows from his hand. A solid connection of his fist
to the side of her head made her reel, and suddenly she was at
the edge of the bed. With one hand he slapped her down,
continuing the beating. Qui-Gon wasn't even working up a sweat,
but Kyratos was shaking, biting her lip and drawing blood in
her attempts to keep from crying out, her arms up to protect
her face, her body a mass of welts.
Frantically, she tried to crawl away from him, across the bed,
still begging him to stop, pleading with him to not do this to
her. Tossing away the whip, Qui-Gon grabbed one of her thighs
in his big hand and twisted, yanking her back towards the side
of the bed and roughly raising her hips, while with his other
hand he opened his pants and pulled out his large, hard member.
Obi-Wan wanted to close his eyes then, but found he could not;
his whole being was focused on the display before him, on the
pale, tear-drenched face he could see plainly. For a split
second, Kyratos' dark eyes locked on his, revealing more in
that moment of pained desperation than any words could. He
wanted to speak, to say something, to scream a denial but hard,
vicious Force bonds blocked his throat and his words.
Qui-Gon shoved forward, breaching her anus, his face a mask of
brutal pleasure as he rammed himself into his apprentice, into
the tight, unaccustomed passage. Kyratos screamed in pain,
clutching at the bedclothes and srongly, roughly impaling her over and over as
she writhed and shrieked. Suddenly he grunted and froze, his
back arched as his climax rolled over him. "Yessss. Let me -
yes, all of it." He wiped his tongue over his lips, smiling in
a way that made Obi-Wan feel ill. "A little too fast, but the
sight of you always does that to me, my sweet."
After a moment, he shoved her body away roughly from him,
hitting her one last time so hard she fell off the bed and
landed in a heap. Obi-Wan winced to see the blood coating the
big man's penis as he turned. Picking up some of her discarded
clothes, Qui-Gon used them to clean himself, snarling down at
his apprentice.
"You stupid bitch," he said, re-fastening his pants. "What a
pathetic display. You call yourself a Sith... useless.
Completely. I should just kill you now..."
There was a noise from across the room, the dataset pinging. He
looked up and frowned, then looked back down at the bloody,
defeated woman near the bed. "Get out. I don't want to see your
ugly face ever again."
Striding to the dataset, Qui-Gon sat and took the call.
Kyratos, still sobbing, blood dripping down her legs and from
numerous welts and cuts, managed to pull herself to her feet
and gather her clothes. "This is all YOUR fault, pretty boy,"
she hissed shakily at Obi-Wan, still trapped by Force bonds
against the wall. Her eyes were lit with utter madness, and
Obi-Wan shuddered to see it. Turning her tear streaked face one
last time to Qui-Gon, she limped as rapidly as she could from
the room.
A short time later, Qui-Gon returned to his captive. Obi-Wan
was completely numb, the brutal scene he had just witnessed
frightening him beyond belief. Even had he not been attached to
the wall by Force bonds, he would have been incapable of
moving, of doing anything except possibly vomiting his terror.
Now, as Qui-Gon turned his attention back to his prisoner,
Obi-Wan found himself cringing away, trying to melt into the
wall, anything to get away from those loathsome golden eyes and
that oh-so-familiar voice.
"Now, my little Jedi," Qui-Gon said, smiling to feel the dread
and anguish rolling off the young man before him. "We'll have
no more interruptions, I trust. I can simply devote myself...
to you."
And then he did kiss Obi-Wan, and proceeded to do other things
as well.
Qui-Gon was petting his hair as he wept on the big man's naked
legs. "What' s wrong, my Obi-Two?"
"I can't... I can't..." Obi-Wan seemed incapable of explaining.
"It's... it's so horrible, it hurts...Gods, it hurts so bad..."
"Pain is to be endured," Qui-Gon intoned. "Release it to the
Force."
"The Force doesn't even listen to me any more," Obi-Wan sobbed.
"You should have stayed with us when you had the chance,"
Qui-Gon said. "You didn't, and look where that's gotten you.
You are just useless. Like this one..." Qui-Gon indicated with
his hand and Obi-Wan turned.
Obi-One lay on the bed behind him, his eyes glazed, his mouth
drawn in a rictus of death and his throat slit, ear to ear.
Blood was everywhere, he could smell it, taste it, and when he
brought up his hands to hide the sight he realized his hands
were dripping with it. He tried to scream but his throat was
parched from lack of fluid and only a croak emerged, just
sufficient to wake him from his latest nightmare into his
continuing one.
In the darkness of the room belonging to the monster who had
been Qui-Gon Jinn, Obi-Wan lay alone: a broken, bloody heap
that had once been a Jedi Knight. He wore no chains, no Force
collars, but he was trapped as if he had been behind duranium
steel bars.
How long had it been? He don't know, everything was confused.
The other changed the lights, made it dark, made it bright.
Manipulated the light like everything else. He thought, I'm
blind! and then he thought, I'm not but I'm not sure. He
imagined things and they sometimes happened. He imagined his
torturer would pluck out his eyes but that one hadn't happened.
He'd kissed them not so long ago. Tasted his tears, drunk them.
Perhaps his eyes were safe, perhaps he couldn't cry without
eyes, or could he? Would his tormentor want to find out, and
test whether it was so?
He couldn't die from pain alone, he told himself that. He
probably wouldn't die from having a stunrod pushed up inside
him and ignited - though he 'd wanted to go away then. He
probably wouldn't die from having his joints dislocated and
pressure put on them until he screamed and begged for release.
The fine cutting that the monster did all over his body wasn't
even all that painful - after all it was a very sharp knife -
but the salt and other chemicals rubbed into the cuts made him
scream.
He might even survive more of the same sort of pain from having
those leather straps tightened around his genitals as he stood
on tiptoes trying to take the weight off the strap that
tightened around him down there and it hurt so much, so much...
more than he had ever imagined anything could hurt. And then,
his tormentor would devise something worse.
He'd begged to be released. Begged. It was an education, an
enlightenment. He'd never begged for anything before, never
sobbed with relief as he'd been lifted down into those arms,
looked up into hot golden eyes and said, yes, yes, do anything
to me, just stop the pain. And those hands, that had touched
him with such casual viciousness, took away his pain and
accepted his surrender.
Though his knees hurt from the dislocations, he had gone down
onto them to allow the monster entry to his body. The Sith had
given him water laced with some foul chemical that brought him
to an aching, overwhelming arousal. Shame was lost under the
devastating need. He felt the big cock thrust into his torn ass
with as much pleasure as pain, even when the
inadequately-healed tissues ripped again. That was the final
ravishment. To be raped and to want it as much as he wept for
it.
That didn't seem to bother the man who took him. He accepted
that final, horrible truth as the Sith possessed him: the truth
that the one he loved could, in this awful reality, be purely
evil. There was no light in that dark spirit, no goodness, no
kindness. Here, Qui-Gon was as dead as was in Obi-Wan's own
universe. This dark, fascinating, horrifying shell was nothing
that he could ever love. Some battles were lost before they
could be fought.
He wasn't even able to scream "WHY?" to the Force any more; his
brain was completely numb. He had done plenty of wondering
during his captivity and early beatings, and had even tried to
figure it out once he had recognized the monster for who he
was. But the Force was silent. And now, it barely came to his
call at all.
He was left, finally, to lie on the soft, carpeted floor, wet
with his own blood and tears, with the sad understanding that
he would die here, no matter what the Force had promised him.
So certain was the Sith of his victory that he hadn't even
bound the young Knight. But while his body was damaged and his
mind numb, the one place the dark man hadn't touched was
Obi-Wan's spirit - and that was stirring him to flight.
One way or the other he would escape. Either to a different
reality, or to death.
Soft hands ran over his ravaged face as he lay in a bloody heap
on the floor. "Not so pretty any more, eh, pretty boy?" a quiet
voice said. Kyratos.
Abruptly his hair was roughly grabbed and his head wrenched
back. One eye was completely swollen shut, and the other was
pretty badly bloodshot, but he could see her, kneeling in front
of him. "If I kill you now, he won't have you any more and
he'll come back to me," Kyratos was murmuring. A cold, sharp
object was weaving its way down his chest. "I should just gut
you now."
It was very hard to speak around his swollen abused tongue and
lips, but with supreme effort, he managed. "Go ahead," he
mumbled. "Do it. It won't matter."
The blade - or whatever it was - stopped moving, just above his
navel. "What do you mean?" she finally said, her voice
suspicious.
Calling every scrap of Force to him that he could muster,
Obi-Wan managed to gather enough strength to talk. "Kill me and
he'll still push you aside. He's used you up, Kyra. You mean
nothing to him anymore. So go on. Kill me. I'd welcome the
release."
The woman froze, staring at him through narrowed eyes. Obi-Wan
didn't have to try to mask his feelings... he had had none
since the monster raped him, that part of his mind had
completely shut down, gone on holiday, out to lunch, never
returning. And his face was so swollen from his frequent
beatings that there was no expression that would have shown up
anyway. Her mouth working, Kyratos blasted a Force probe into
him, looking for his thoughts, but encountered only a void. An
aching, empty, dark void.
"I'm not afraid of him, you know," she said, almost casually.
Releasing his hair, she sat back on her heels and used the
knife to trim a fingernail. "I 'm not. I don't care what you
saw. I like it like that. He knows it too."
Wearily, Obi-Wan let his one good eye sag shut. She grabbed his
hair again and shook his head viciously. "I can beat him," she
hissed into his face. "I can. I can whip his ass and make him
sorry for the day he ever trained me. I'll make him sorry he
lived, that he let me live. I will."
"Then why don't you, my young apprentice?" a silky voice said
behind her. Snarling, but trembling too, Kyratos dropped
Obi-Wan's head and whirled, standing with her back to the wall.
"Are you ready to face me now, finally, Kyra? Are you? Or will
you just back down again, like the coward you are?"
The monster stood in the doorway to the room, his body at ease,
his face a pleasant mask, his eyes glittering with malice.
Obi-Wan could feel the rage and trembling fury in the woman who
stood near him, but it ceased to have any meaning for him.
Carefully, with much agony, he managed to prop himself up
against the wall, leaving his abused knees bent to one side.
The tableau held for a few heartbeats, then Kyratos suddenly
ignited her blood-red 'saber and leaped at him, screaming,
"I'll KILL YOU!"
The monster didn't move until she was almost upon him, then
casually shifted aside, avoiding her charge. He apparently
expected her to overextend in her charge, but she surprised
him, whirling quickly and coming down for the killing blow.
Qui-Gon barely managed to dodge in time, and as it was, she
managed to get in a glancing blow to his arm. The smell of
burnt flesh suddenly permeated the room.
Another 'saber, one that was dark red like old, spilled blood,
was suddenly lit and the Master and apprentice began fighting
furiously. The injury to his arm enraged Qui-Gon; like his
apprentice, he was snarling and foaming in his earnest desire
to destroy her. They fought through the room, kicking over
tables and chairs, and at one point Kyratos' 'saber came down
on the dataset, destroying it in a shower of sparks.
Obi-Wan watched from his vantage point against the wall. The
numbness in his mind for some reason was receding, ever so
slightly, leaving him more aware of his surroundings, the
flaring pain in his joints and ass and face, the desperate
thirst and hunger that ate at him. Slowly it began dawning on
him that the blankness had been caused by the monster's hold
over his mind... a hold that was gradually lessening as he
devoted more energy to destroying his apprentice.
Kyratos was screaming continuously as she fought demonically.
Apparently she had gone completely mad and in her madness was
cunning, for her Master appeared not to be able to counter all
her moves. She pressed him back, completely out of control, and
to Obi-Wan's surprise Qui-Gon suddenly tripped over the ruins
of a chair in the middle of the room. His lightsaber went
flying.
Laughing hysterically, Kyratos went in for the kill. But
Qui-Gon reached out a hand and called to himself a 'saber...
one of the three 'sabers on the shelf under the window near
Obi-Wan's backpack. For one brief, terrified instant, Obi-Wan
was afraid he had called the switch 'saber.. but then he
ignited it, bringing it up to parry Kyratos' hammer-blow, and
the blue-white glow of the new 'saber Obi-Wan had built months
ago clashed with the red from Kyratos'. One tiny, sane corner
of Obi-Wan's mind was glad it was his newly built 'saber the
Sith took rather than the one belonging to his Master that
Obi-Wan still carried... he wouldn't have been able to accept
that Monster fighting with his beloved Master's 'saber.
Obi-Wan couldn't breathe. His whole being was focused not on
the fight any longer, but on the backpack on the shelf. It was
nearly within reach, only a few, short, endless feet away.
A scream brought his attention back to the duel. Qui-Gon had
disarmed the woman and was standing over her, gloating. "You
see, you idiot," he snarled, still breathing heavily, "you are
no match for me. I suppose you expect me to kill you now." He
looked with distaste at the blue-white 'saber he still held in
his hands. "I will. But not with this." He threw it away from
himself, then held out his hands.
"Die, you useless cunt," he murmured, and blue lightning shot
from his fingertips to engulf Kyratos. She screamed again, a
high, keening sound that purely ripped Obi-Wan's guts from his
body. Kyratos writhed and begged under the onslaught, but the
monster merely smiled and redoubled his efforts.
A snap in his head and Obi-Wan realized he was free. With
effort, he pulled himself up the wall and staggered to the
shelf, falling with a gasp just out of reach. A quick look told
him that Qui-Gon was still busily torturing his apprentice,
whose cries were becoming weaker. One last push, one last gasp,
Obi-Wan forced his broken and abused body to obey him and
suddenly he was there... clutching the backpack to himself and
grabbing his switch 'saber and his Master's 'saber to his
bloody chest. Then a voice behind him.
"Such spirit. You think to challenge me, little Jedi? You will
merely end up the same as her," the monster indicated his now
dead and burned apprentice. "Do not try. Come to me, come to
the dark. What a Sith you will make..."
But now, finally, the Force was singing through him. It filled
his brain and his body and he straightened, not looking behind
him, not looking to see the golden, evil eyes of the monster
with Qui-Gon's face.
"No." The word was said softly, but with conviction, and he
ignited his 'saber.
With a bang of displaced air, a naked, bleeding and shivering
Obi-Wan Kenobi popped into an empty apartment. A chill wind
blew in from a glassless window, swirling around the debris
scattered on the cement floor. Dropping to his abused knees,
Obi-Wan turned off his 'saber and clutched at his backpack,
sobs hitching in his throat as he frantically extended his
senses for any lifeforms. He detected none. This Temple was
abandoned, this world was abandoned; as far as he could tell,
he was the only living sentience on the planet. Rocking gently,
he wrapped his arms around himself and allowed the tears to
come. They were mixed with blood and splashed redly on his
chest to mingle there with more blood.
After a time, he numbly managed to unfold and dig through his
backpack for clothes and food. The monster had left his things
largely alone; there were even unopened bottles of root beer,
and he greedily sucked down two of them while he ate several
nutri-bars as slowly as he was able, dressing in between bites.
No one bothered him. No one was here. No one... especially not
a mad-eyed monster who wore his beloved's face. No one.
After resting and healing the worst of his wounds - except the
ones that wouldn't heal, the ones deep inside - he made his way
out of the ruined apartment to explore the Temple, to see what
he could salvage before moving on.
He thought it might be some time before he gained the courage
to do so. After all, the next world might have another Qui-Gon
in it.
PLEASE pay attention. This episode contains M/F rape, sodomy,
M/M rape, torture, S/M, character death, het content and
graphic descriptions of nasty things. That being said... this
episode is also quite essential to the entire Wheel saga, and
events that happen here will have repercussions on all the
other Wheel Episodes. It's not a long fic. I can't force you to
read it or not to read it, but I can remind you... it's ONLY A
STORY.
Archive 