"Should I shave?" Obi-Wan asked as he slid the brown velvet
robe around himself. They'd both washed up, and Qui-Gon was
running a comb through his hair.
"I have a comb, but I didn't stop to grab my razor."
"How sharp is your knife?"
The king paused and leered at him. "Sharp enough, and long
too."
"Don't start," Obi-Wan warned. "I feel like the bond is some
sort of wild beast, just waiting to pounce on us. If I only had
the time to really examine it, to figure out how long it will
be before it stabilizes."
"Will it?"
"Most bonds do after a time."
"Oh." Qui-Gon turned away and reached for one of the small bags
he'd brought from the palace.
"Qui-Gon?"
"It's nothing," Qui-Gon replied, sliding a small gold hoop into
his earlobe. "Haven't worn this in a while," he continued.
"Don't please."
"What, you don't want to be seen with a mercenary?"
Obi-Wan put a hand to his forehead. "It hurts, you know.
Physically."
Qui-Gon turned in alarm to see his lover looking strained.
"What? What did I do?"
"You shut me out," Obi-Wan replied, letting his breath go as
Qui-Gon's crude but effective shields dropped. "Please, I don't
want to just go in and find out what you're upset about."
"You."
"Me?"
Qui-Gon gestured as he began to stalk the room. "You're a Jedi
monk. Once the bond fades and isn't influencing you any more .
. ."
Obi-Wan moved to reach for Qui-Gon's arm. "I won't stop loving
you, and I won't stop wanting you. I don't care about my vows
of celibacy, Qui-Gon. We are mated for life and beyond.
Can you honestly even think about being with anyone else?"
Qui-Gon tried, his mind conjuring up past lovers. He could
remember nights of passion, and see the beauty of their faces,
but there was no accompanying desire with the memories. Nothing
like the rush of need he felt as Obi-Wan lightly touched his
clothed arm. Obi-Wan obviously felt it too, for he backed away,
regret on his face.
"I think I really need to meditate on this," he said. "How long
can we stay here?"
"A few days, depending on who comes in. Not too many at court
know about this place, but it only takes one guard who's been
here. Why?"
"Because we have to finalize the bond. We can't run for our
lives, or retake your kingdom, if we have to stop every few
hours to disappear into the bushes."
"Sad but true." Qui-Gon smiled ruefully. "You want me to deal
with Her Excellency tonight while you meditate?"
"I think I better be there too. I have no idea about her
training and I wouldn't send you into danger like that without
. . . a shieldmate."
"Mmmmm, I like the sound of that."
"Qui-Gon, please don't rumble like that." Obi-Wan's eyes were
bright and Qui-Gon smiled.
"Can I do it later?" he asked heading for the door.
"I certainly hope you will."
Qui-Gon had seen that the Countess was given the best room in
the inn. It wasn't much compared to the palace at Coures,
Obi-Wan thought, but it had room for a table for four.
"I'm sorry, Your Majesty," Nienve said, gesturing with a
deprecating smile. "It's poor fare I have to offer you."
Get ready to meet Captain Qui-Gon, a voice said in Obi-
Wan's head. He hid his smile. Apparently he wasn't going to
need to teach Qui-Gon to Speak after all.
"I've eaten worse," Qui-Gon said, dropping heavily into his
chair. Obi-Wan sat quietly as the countess settled in and waved
a hand at her maid. "Sit down, girl," Qui- Gon continued. "The
food's here, we can serve ourselves." He looked at the
Countess. "You may have noticed that we're not at court
anymore. Save the airs and graces until we are again."
Before she could speak, Obi-Wan leaned forward. "I would thank
you for your advice on shielding. It's probably that which
convinced the Captain that you were prepared to speak plainly
to us."
She smiled, but her eyes narrowed slightly. "You have him well
trained, I see," she said to Qui-Gon.
"No, I don't. But he is extraordinary well trained; his
Abbot thought very highly of him. Now do you want to
sink barbs -- which won't stick -- into me about my lover, or
would you prefer to truly talk?"
"And if I said I wanted to go back to my husband?"
Qui-Gon shook his head. "You are a force-sensitive and so is
your girl there. If you had wanted to stay in the palace last
night you could have."
"Why," Obi-Wan asked gently, "are you so afraid? Why couldn't I
see the deception in your husband?" He looked at the beautiful
woman and carefully dropped his outer shields, letting her read
his concern and his admiration for her actions during their
flight.
She looked away. "And I thought you'd try to break my silence
with threats."
"You've been threatened enough for one day," Obi-Wan said
gently. "Who is really behind what happened in Coures?"
The maid gave a sharp gasp, her face going white. The Countess
merely slumped slightly in her chair. "Are you really him?" she
asked, her face suddenly tired.
Qui-Gon stared at his lover curiously, wondering how Obi- Wan
had arrived at the lightening fast conclusion that he had. He
himself would have made his way to the same question, but not
so fast.
Yes you would have; if you'd been drawing on me the way I'm
drawing on you. Shall we bet on who's behind all this?
Obi-Wan's mind voice asked.
I think we both know the answer already, Qui-Gon
replied, marveling at this strange way of touching his lover.
"I don't know," Obi-Wan said out loud. "Some people think so,
but no message has over come from the Force telling me that I'm
the only one like this. 'He' could live halfway to Siamara;
there are legends of the Jedi temples in the Great Mountains."
"If only it weren't so easy to trust you," Nienve murmured. "I
don't trust him," and she nodded at Qui- Gon, "as far as I
could throw him, but you . . ."
"You're wrong not to trust him."
"It was the king," she said quietly. "Our king."
"No, it wasn't," Qui-Gon said, copying Obi-Wan's gentle voice.
"Xanatos hates me, but he's too afraid of me. It was The
Pretender."
"I tell you, it was Xanatos! I watched while he held a knife to
my son's neck so that I would drop my shields on Valorum. He
went in and did something to my husband's mind. Something even
I couldn't find, let alone undo."
"The Captain is right," the maid said, suddenly. "And you know
it."
"Padme!"
"Have done, Nienve!" the girl snapped. "My father is a
black-hearted bastard, but I know The Pretender and his
dog are behind this."
"Last time I saw you, Your Highness, you were a bulge under
your mother's skirts," Qui-Gon said. "Which might explain why I
didn't recognize you now. Obi-Wan, meet Her Royal Highness, the
Princess Amidala of Kasitland."
"And don't think I don't know that you could have killed my
mother, instead of treating her as a gently born hostage. I
would have never been born if not for you, Captain."
Obi-Wan looked at the girl again. "Your mother was a Jedi,
wasn't she? Sister Avril. She left the order for your father's
sake."
She nodded. "Mother . . . died three years after my brother was
born. I was already 10, and I knew then that father killed
her."
"I wouldn't put it past him," Qui-Gon muttered. "Son of a bitch
is the only man who ever came close to defeating me."
"That he didn't says a great deal about your strength," Obi-Wan
said, laying a hand on Qui-Gon's arm. "He was almost a Master
when he left the temple."
Qui-Gon looked at Amidala. "You're sure it's not your
father behind all this?"
"I hardly love my father enough to be shielding him."
"Who," Obi-Wan asked, looking around the table, "is The
Pretender?"
"He claims the throne of the Empire of the Ancients," Nienve
said. "He has Xanatos completely under his thumb."
"The Pretender is a joke," Qui-Gon said, dismissively. "He's
trying to impress people with talk of the Ancient Empire, but
that's all he is, talk. He came to try his brand of talk on me,
but I kicked him out."
"You," Amidala said quietly, "are stronger than you can
imagine. After leaving Ascent, he came to Kasitland."
"And Xanatos didn't kick him out?" Qui-Gon asked. "He must have
liked what The Pretender had to say."
"He's a Sith Lord." Nienve said quietly.
"The Sith don't exist anymore," Obi-Wan said lightly as Qui-Gon
glanced at him, a look of concern on his face.
"And you Jedi claim to hold the one true way to the Light,"
Nienve said softly. "Such arrogance."
"My lady, we do not claim to know any "one true path;" we
simply do what we know to stay true to the Light."
"The Sith were real, boy," Nienve said coldly. "And they still
exist. The Pretender and his Demon . . ."
She was still talking, but the room was swaying around Obi-Wan,
spinning and dipping until he could find nothing steady to hold
onto. Then there was something steady, his hand closed on a
strong arm. He opened his mouth and spoke.
The two women stared as the Jedi reeled. He grabbed at
Qui-Gon's arm and then spoke in a flat voice, his eyes glazed
and obviously seeing something none of them could see. The very
air in the room crackled with power.
"Red, he is, and black. The color of blood and darkness. Behind
him stands a Master. They cannot be slain by a man who is not
two. The darkness . . . it is coming . . . the red . . . the
blood . . . covering the land . . . unless the balance is
struck . . . a choice . . . oh love . . . such a choice . . ."
Obi-Wan slumped in his chair, his eyes rolling back into his
head. Nienve made a sharp gesture, repeated by Amidala, as
Qui-Gon hovered over his lover.
The Captain looked up at the two women. "What do you do with
someone who faints?"
"In this case," the countess replied, "you leave him be. We've
shielded the room and I think we're safe." She looked levelly
at Qui-Gon. "You're going to have to learn how to use your
talents for more than battle."
Qui-Gon looked away for a moment. "It was easier when I could
call it luck, when I didn't look at you people and see you do
things and know through the bond that I can do them as well."
"You're going to learn the fast hard way," Nienve said softly.
"The way I learned."
"Oh?"
"My mother was force sensitive," she said softly. Amidala
reached across to hold her hand. "She died when I was three,
using the Force to save us from bandits. As she lay dying, she
forced a bond on me, gave me everything she knew, and then
sealed it. When I was 12, the seal broke, and I was suddenly
flooded with knowledge. The captain of my father's troop was a
. . . force sensitive. She helped me understand all the
knowledge and power I had at my fingers. Without her, I would
have gone insane, or killed everyone around me."
"You still exist," a soft voice said. Obi-Wan blinked his eyes
and fumbled for Qui-Gon's hand.
"Forget that," Qui-Gon muttered roughly. He leaned down and
kissed his lover, trying to pour strength into Obi- Wan through
their connection. A moment later, strong arms reached around
his neck, pulling him into a much deeper kiss.
"Ah, love," Obi-Wan murmured when they broke the kiss. "Thank
you for your strength."
The Jedi turned to Nienve. "The Banjedi," he said. "The Mother
Order."
"You still remember us?"
"I had three dreams when I was fasting one week, all of them
about Imen-Ban. My master let me read the ancient texts that
only the senior Masters and Abbot usually read." He looked at
Qui-Gon, and then at the two women, raising an eyebrow at
Amidala. She nodded.
"Yes, I'm one too."
Obi-Wan looked at his lover again. "You could pull this from my
mind at some point, so I see no reason not to just tell you.
"During the last years of the Ancient Empire, Imen-Ban was the
one of the greatest force sensitives of her day. Along with all
those who followed the light, she fought the Sith when they
came out of the darkness to destroy the Empire. As we all know,
the Sith failed, however the Empire lost too much and fell to
pieces and much was lost. Imen-Ban and Bar-Jed, who was the
head of the greatest Order of the Light, quarreled vehemently
and publicly about the way to retain the knowledge of the lost
temples and houses of the force mysteries."
Obi-Wan paused to take a sip of ale, making a faint face at its
bitterness. "You like this?" he asked Qui-Gon.
Qui-Gon, caught up in Obi-Wan's tale of ancient times looked at
him for a moment and then smiled. "Yes, and I absolutely love
you." He turned to the women. "He was not at all what I
expected, you know."
Amidala looked at Obi-Wan. "I imagine he never is."
Obi-Wan looked around the table. "Far better than being what
people do expect." He tried the ale again, shook his
head and resumed his tale.
"With the death of the Empire, people were already looking
askance at force sensitives. Imen-Ban argued that they should
go underground and wait until times were better before sharing
their knowledge with the world. Bar-Jed argued that they should
remain in the open, weather the storm and show that people had
nothing to fear from those who followed the Light.
"They met secretly, only the two of them, and agreed to do
both. Bar-Jed created the Jedi order, and set down the tenants
we still live by today. Imen-Ban founded the Banjedi, a secret
women's order, which passed knowledge from mother to daughter,
and even then only to those daughters who were thought capable
of bearing the secret. Sons and 'lesser' daughters were sent to
the Jedi Temple to be trained there. Some of the techniques
have varied over the years, but both orders know of each other,
even if only at the highest levels."
He paused and then looked around the table. "Does the name
Shal-Wan mean anything to any of you?"
"Of course," Nienve said. "She was the guard captain who
initiated me."
"Did she have a husband or a lover?"
"Most of us do. We marry for position or mate if we find
someone high in force sensitivity. Shal-Wan's lover was a
natural force-sensitive named," she paused and looked at
Obi-Wan in wide-eyed surprise, "Ken-Obi."
"I thought you didn't know who your parents were," Qui- Gon
said, staring at Obi-Wan in surprise.
"A vision showed me once. A vision I shared with no one until
now." He bowed his head.
"You are the Man at the Center," Amidala said softly. "You
fulfill too many of the prophecies not to be."
"No!" Obi-Wan said sharply. "No one knows how many of those
prophecies are real, and half of them contradict the other
half."
"Like the one that says that He will refuse to recognize
Himself?" Amidala replied.
"Do you know what has been so amazing since I came to Coures
and met Qui-Gon?" Obi-Wan asked. "He's never looked at me with
that look, sizing me up against all the prophecies he's
read. He looked at me and expected me to do what I was sent to
do, and now . . ." He reached almost blindly for Qui-Gon's
hand. "He doesn't care who I am except that I am Obi-Wan."
The countess looked down at her hands silently, as Qui- Gon
gripped Obi-Wan's hand tightly.
"How lucky for you," Amidala said bitterly. "You can pretend
that you're just Obi-Wan, rogue Jedi monk. Some of us
don't have the luxury."
"Some of us," Qui-Gon shot back, "get to run away from home
pretending to be maid servants."
"I was coming to ask you for your help!" Amidala snapped,
jumping to her feet. "And, damn him, my father got there first
and the armies of Ascent are essentially his now."
"My men will not follow Xanatos," Qui-Gon said softly.
"No, but they might follow Adi. They're not your men
anymore, Qui-Gon. How much of the army is still made up of your
original band?"
The young princess turned away, pacing the room nervously. "And
once Adi announces your death, she'll need a new husband.
She'll be looking for one more . . . cultured than the last
one, a man of polish and style. And my father will be that for
her, the way he is with everyone. No one can see the Darkness
in him. He'll marry Adi; she'll lose that baby, and The
Pretender will have another chunk of the Ancient Empire at the
price of a mere 40 lives or so."
Obi-Wan, still a little shaky, rose to his feet, and put his
hands gently on Amidala's shoulders. "No, he won't." He looked
over at Qui-Gon for a second, reading approval in his lover's
eyes. "Because we're going to stop them, all of them. Xanatos,
The Pretender and his Demon."
"How?" the princess asked.
"It doesn't matter. That's why we are all here right now. It's
why the Force gathered us together." He paused and then bowed
his head. "There is one prophecy you won't know. 'Two there
are, not one. Two will stand in the center. Two must meet for
there to be One.'"
He let go of Amidala and paced to stand behind Qui-Gon's chair.
"It's going to be either me or The Pretender. The "choice" is
nothing less than the fate of all nations. Will it be Light or
Dark?"
"It doesn't matter. That's why we are all here right now. It's
why the Force gathered us together." He paused and then bowed
his head. "There is one prophecy you won't know. 'Two there
are, not one. Two will stand in the center. Two must meet for
there to be One.'"
He let go of Amidala and paced to stand behind Qui-Gon's chair.
"It's going to be either me or The Pretender. The "choice" is
nothing less than the fate of all nations. Will it be Light or
Dark?"
The long silence followed Obi-Wan's pronouncement was finally
broken when Qui-Gon turned in his chair to look up at his
lover. "What must we do?"
"What you do best, my love." Obi-Wan looked around the table.
"What each of you does best. I have no practice at guile or
cunning; it seems I cannot hide what I am, and no one is going
to follow me into the fray."
"We will." Surprisingly, it was the countess who spoke. When
Qui-Gon looked at her curiously, she shrugged. "Unlike some
people, I love my husband. And Xanatos, or whoever is in charge
in Kasit, still has that knife at my son's throat."
"Thank you," Obi-Wan said before Qui-Gon could speak. "But I
was thinking of the soldiers; I can't see them following
a Jedi into battle."
A faint murmur of laughter helped dispel the tension in the
room. "So are you hiring my Company then, Brother Obi-Wan?"
Qui-Gon teased.
"I believe I am, Captain."
"Work on your shields before you begin bargaining for fees,"
Nienve said archly, smiling as Obi-Wan blushed.
The woman's words made Qui-Gon think of something. He looked at
Obi-Wan. "About the bond . . .?"
Obi-Wan looked at Nienve. "What do you know about soulbonds?"
"Less than you probably know. They're so rare, and there isn't
much in our records about them."
"We're concerned about how long it's going to be until this one
stabilizes."
Amidala giggled a little nervously and Nienve spread her hands.
"We can probably stay here at least another day or two?" She
looked at Qui-Gon, who nodded. "I would suggest that you
meditate and see if any answers come to you. Other than that,
the Captain's capable sergeant can probably see to everything
here that needs seeing to while the two of you stay in your
rooms."
"They can't do that," Amidala said, as Qui-Gon opened his mouth
to protest. "Captain Qui-Gon has to be seen by the men, he has
to work with them, check on every new person who comes in . . .
Rulers don't have days off."
Suddenly Obi-Wan was too tired to take any more talk. "Can we
discuss this in the morning?" he asked. They all looked at him,
alarmed, and he realized that, somehow, he'd become their
focus. "I really should meditate on the bond and see if I come
up with an answer," he said a little more firmly, aware out of
the corner of his eye that Amidala nodded approvingly. "And
you'll need to do your rounds," he added to Qui-Gon.
Qui-Gon looked at the two women. "Tomorrow I need to know
everything you know about The Pretender, his 'demon' and
Xanatos. I don't need any background on Xanatos of course, but
anything on the other two would be appreciated."
"Of course, Your Majesty," Amidala said graciously.
"No," Qui-Gon replied. "Not that. Not ever again."
The countess looked a little surprised, but Amidala nodded,
understanding on her face. "Very well, Captain."
After making his rounds and chatting with the soldiers, meeting
four more who had struggled in, and setting up two squads,
Qui-Gon finally made it back to the room he shared with
Obi-Wan. He had been aware of his lover during his rounds, but
Obi-Wan's usual presence in his mind seemed muted. When he
actively sought Obi-Wan through the bond, the feeling that came
back was that of staring into a calm pool of water, under the
surface of which floated, like so many fish, all the questions
and quandaries of the day. So this was his lover meditating? He
recognized the process a little; it was something he often did
when his own problems seemed overwhelming.
Ah love, he thought, trying to keep the thought to
himself, I have so many bad habits to unlearn. He
thought about trying to correct the habits of a soldier taught
by a poor swordsman, and shook his head. Obi-Wan would have his
hands full teaching him to do things properly. Then again, the
teacher often learned a great deal during such a process.
Carefully, Qui-Gon opened the door to the small room. It gave
him far more pleasure to see Obi-Wan, dressed, kneeling near
the small firepot, than it had given him to see his lover
sprawled naked and begging on the great state bed in Coures.
This was much more their sort of place, he thought, as he
carefully removed his cloak and armored vest, and hung them
over the room's one chair. He washed up and took a long drink
of ale before Obi-Wan stirred.
"Are you all right?" Qui-Gon asked, moving toward Obi-Wan even
as he knew he shouldn't hover.
"Fine," the Jedi replied with a faint smile. "No visions of
blood."
"Any answers?" Qui-Gon offered a hand and felt the now familiar
tingle as their skin touched. Obi-Wan allowed himself to be
pulled to his feet and then into Qui-Gon's arms, resting in his
lover's strength for a moment.
"We have to do things a little differently," Obi-Wan murmured
into Qui-Gon's chest.
"I thought we were," Qui-Gon replied, letting a little of his
nervousness show.
"That will help." Obi-Wan pulled away a little and looked up at
Qui-Gon. "Bonds are not a line," he continued, tapping
Qui-Gon's chest and then his own, "going from just one point to
one other point."
Obi-Wan's hand now traced a flat oval, its two focal points his
heart and Qui-Gon's. "A bond is a circle, a circle which must
be closed and then maintained. Its motion will never cease as
long as we live." He smiled and spread his hands. "We Jedi say:
'There is no Death, only the Force. Our bond may well still be
in motion thousands of years after our bodies die."
Qui-Gon smiled. "In some odd way, I find that rather
comforting."
"So do I," Obi-Wan replied, his emotion warming Qui-Gon. "But
right now, that bond, that circle, is still incomplete."
"So you, making love to me this time, closes that circle?"
"Partially. We also have to start with the bond and then
continue to the physical." Obi-Wan suddenly grinned, a shy, but
happy grin. "Good thing, too. I'll have access to your mind so
I will know how to make love to you. I would never wish
to hurt you with my clumsiness."
"Gods, but I love your smile," Qui-Gon said, his words
producing a much shyer smile accompanied with a faint blush.
"I feel like I've spent a lifetime smiling in the wrong way to
the wrong people," Obi-Wan replied. "By meeting you, I've
learned how to smile a true smile.
He moved out of Qui-Gon's arms and then turned and smiled a
very different smile, one that sent heat rushing to the
soldier's groin and made him tug at his remaining clothes.
"Obi-Wan," he groaned.
Obi-Wan was standing by the bed, smiling as he watched his
lover move away to undress. One expected a soldier and a large
soldier at that, to be clumsy somehow, and yet, Obi-Wan had
learned that Qui-Gon was constantly aware of his surroundings
and moved with astonishing grace. A good enough place to
start, he thought, and sent a non verbal thought across the
bond.
Silent laughter answered him the same way, along with a certain
amount of disbelief. Obi-Wan answered it with a vision of
Qui-Gon on horseback from much earlier in the day. A ripple of
embarrassed agreement and a picture of himself kneeling, limned
with firelight while he meditated was returned. Hard on the
heels of that image was one of Obi-Wan's gentleness with both
Nienve and Amidala.
By now, Qui-Gon had stripped and was standing next to the bed.
Obi-Wan got a humorous image of the bed appearing huge,
stretching as it did between them. H replied with an image of
Qui-Gon sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed, and, as
his lover did so, he stripped off his robe.
Heat surged across the bond as Qui-Gon stared at him and
Obi-Wan nodded. That's the way, my love. We start this way
and then move on to the other. Love me with your mind; let me
in and show me what you show me when we join.
I think I can do that, Qui-Gon thought.
Obi-Wan settled in cross-legged opposite him, reaching for his
hands. He could feel his lover's shields drain away.
What about Nienve and Amidala?
I've set those sorts of shields already, Obi-Wan replied
as he took Qui-Gon's hands.
Qui-Gon closed Obi-Wan's smaller hands in his and thought about
the magic this young man could perform. All at once he was
encompassed with the knowledge of just what Obi-Wan could do.
How he set shields and saw the truth from lies. How he could
make thing move with a gesture and how he could remain so still
that birds perched on his shoulders. He understood the ways of
meditation Obi-Wan had studied years to perfect, and grasped
all the different sorts of non-verbal communication of the
Jedi. More and more lore poured into his head, striking chords
he hadn't known were in him. He understood Obi-Wan's ability to
heal, although he also understood that his own talents didn't
lie in that direction.
At the thought of Qui-Gon's own talents, Obi-Wan gave a gentle
nudge and Qui-Gon let him in. Obi-Wan learned of the hard
drilling and endless practice rounds, and the "forms" or
movements that worked best with which weapon. He understood the
odds of besieging a castle, and the strange exercises Qui-Gon
had learned from an Eastern Captain. He suddenly knew good
horses from bad, how to bargain for anything, and art of
dealing with princes who preferred not to get their hands dirty
doing their own fighting. He learned of Qui-Gon's "battle luck"
which enabled him to look across a field and see the patterns
of a battle before they occurred.
Patterns. Obi-Wan's thoughts led both of them to the subject of
the patterns that swirled between them like the curving,
arabesque illuminations in a fine book. Their minds fell into
tandem as each followed the patterns, the sinuous lines of
Obi-Wan's brilliant blue-white and Qui-Gon's glowing green,
each curve and loop becoming more complicated and bringing the
lines closer together. Heat flared between them now, and each
let the pattern draw them nearer to the heat, letting them be
guided by the Force lines between them.
When the pattern of lines urged Qui-Gon to leave his seated
posture and fall on to his back, he went easily, spreading his
legs as Obi-wan followed him, one hand resting lightly over
Qui-Gon's heart. Both knew that Qui-Gon, a natural leader among
men, had never allowed another man to take him this way. And
both knew that he now felt a desperate hunger for his lover to
claim him.
Not a claiming, Obi-Wan's bell-like mental "voice" said,
brushing across Qui-Gon's mind like a physical caress. A
joining, for as surely as our minds become one, our bodies may
join in any way we see fit.
The lines of the Force curled around them then, and Qui-Gon
felt it soothe away the last of his fears. Fear, in this place
with Obi-Wan's mind matched to his, one with his, seemed an
impossible emotion. There is no fear, one or both of
them thought.
And so now, Qui-Gon, who had led all their encounters,
willingly gave over into Obi-Wan's keeping the strands of the
Force that he knew to be his. He could imagine, behind his
closed eyes, Obi-Wan's solemn look of acceptance as he began to
braid the strands together into some kind of magic unlike any
Qui-Gon had ever seen or Obi-Wan had ever practiced. And within
that complex braid, like jewels a lady might braid into her
hair, Obi-Wan braided himself and his lover.
Qui-Gon could feel the touch of his lover and that of himself
everywhere, and he soon gave up trying to rationalize the
experience. After all, how could lips be kissing his neck, when
his own mouth was busily exploring the satin flesh at the small
of Obi-Wan's back? How could hot hands be sliding slowly up his
legs, moving them, spreading them wider, when his own
fingertips sought to map out every contour of his lover's
shoulders?
Even those sensations paled when compared with the glittering
braid of the Force Obi-Wan manipulated around them. Each
individual strand seemed to brush at both men, this thread
finding that sensitive spot at the top of Qui-Gon's earlobe,
that line catching Obi-Wan on the back of the knee and making
him gasp. The sound reverberated through the braided strands
and danced across their skin like raindrops.
How real . . .? Qui-Gon tried to ask.
"Our focus determines our reality," Obi-Wan murmured aloud, his
voice husky and hungry.
Qui-Gon blinked, trying to look outside the link for a moment
and, for a moment, he saw himself, spread out and waiting. And
then he was in his own body again, looking up at Obi-Wan. The
braid of their bond, made up as it was of everything they were,
had already revealed the emotions he now read on Obi-Wan's
face. Qui-Gon shuddered, suddenly far more terrified than he
ever had been.
"Don't love me that much!" he cried out, an ancient scar on his
heart opening up. Even that pain was poured into the bond,
another strand in the magic braid. "I couldn't bear it if . .
."
Close your eyes; look at the sum of us combined and tell me
that you think I could leave you.
Qui-Gon almost didn't want to. He'd told himself for so long
that the pain he carried had made him what he was.
And so it did, but now will you let it make us? Or will you
leave that Dark behind and step into the Light with me.
When Obi-Wan put it that way, there was no question of what to
do. Qui-Gon would be incomplete without Obi-Wan and he could
feel the real fear of failure that tore at his young lover. He
could also feel the way both their fears tugged at the bond,
fraying the braided strands and rubbing raw against the
sensitive lines of the Force.
"I don't know how . . ." he whispered. He grabbed Obi-Wan's
hands and said something he hadn't said since he was a very
small, frightened boy. "Help me. Please?"
Close your eyes, love, and trust me.
It couldn't be that easy could it? Qui-Gon closed his eyes and
truly laid his soul bare. The Dark made of the fear inside him
was like sticky smoke, clinging to him, and he found that, with
Obi-Wan's help, he could release it from himself as easily as
blowing out a candle. At the same time, he felt Obi-Wan
releasing some of the same sticky smoke, and knew it to be the
Jedi's fear of failure, of not living up to the burden placed
on him.
Qui-Gon offered up his strength to his lover, vowing that he
would never ask Obi-Wan to be anyone but himself. In return, he
felt the knowledge wash over him that someone who said they
loved him would never again leave him alone. The ragged edges
of the Force that surrounded them smoothed, the braid of light
tightened the way their hands tightened together, and then
Qui-Gon was pulling Obi-Wan down toward him.
It seemed almost absurd to discover that they weren't
already physically joined, they felt so close.
"Mind and soul aren't enough," Qui-Gon said his voice hungry.
"No," Obi-Wan replied, as his hands began to roam over
Qui-Gon's body. "Bodies must join as well."
"Good," was the almost gruff reply, "because if I don't have
you inside me damn soon . . ."
"Yes, love, I know." Obi-Wan's hands stroked their way slowly
down from Qui-Gon's shoulders to his hips. "You're empty and it
hurts and you need something, anything, to fill that
emptiness." He pushed gently at Qui-Gon's thighs, which parted
easily.
"Please," Qui-Gon said, half-sobbing as those hands left his
body for a brief moment. Once he would have been shocked to
hear himself begging like this, but now he knew what Obi-Wan
had felt only this afternoon. This hunger, this need was so
different than the need to take. Now he wanted to be
taken, to truly give himself to this incredible lover in
the same way Obi-Wan had given himself.
Obi-Wan watched his own hands as he coated his fingers with
oil. He should be shaking and nervous, but he wasn't. He
certainly didn't know how he'd been able to talk like that to
Qui-Gon, but the shimmering braid of the Force that surrounded
them still told him that his words had been correct. Qui-Gon
had to remember that Obi-Wan had been where he was now. And,
looking down at Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan needed to remember it too.
Something in him just wanted to pounce and take what was so
generously offered.
"Go ahead and pounce," Qui-Gon said, his need pulsing through
the link between them.
"Shhhh," Obi-Wan whispered. "I could no more hurt you," one
finger toyed lightly with Qui-Gon's opening, "than you could
hurt me."
Qui-Gon groaned and Obi-Wan smiled, moving things along the way
Qui-Gon had with him, sliding a finger inside his lover. He
gasped at the heat and his own erection throbbed urgently,
suddenly wanting to be buried in that heat. The next finger
slowly, but smoothly joined the first, Obi-Wan calling on his
Temple discipline to keep his movements slow and gentle as he
readied Qui-Gon for this.
"Yessss . . ." Qui-Gon hissed. "Obi-Wan, now damnit!"
"Don't care . . . ohhhhhh!" Qui-Gon's voice trailed off into a
moan as Obi-Wan gently stretched him enough to add a third
finger. He greedily bucked against Obi-Wan's hand, and, through
the bond, felt Obi-Wan controlling his own response to the
slick heat that surrounded his fingers.
You want to be in there, don't you? he thought to
Obi-Wan, a little amazed that he could manage to be coherent in
this state.
"Gods, yes!" Obi-Wan replied aloud, almost growling.
Qui-Gon smiled at him, and grabbed his own legs, pulling them
back to offer more of himself to his lover. Any fear of this
act was long gone and he looked at Obi-Wan almost desperately.
"I'll beg if you want me to."
"Never," Obi-Wan said firmly. He carefully pulled his fingers
out and moved to kneel before Qui-Gon. Bending his head, he
slowly ran his tongue along the underside of his lover's
erection, before straightening up to smile at Qui-Gon.
"You don't have to beg to be loved, and you don't have to
pretend that you don't need it or want it." With careful
precision, he positioned his cock at the entrance to Qui-Gon's
body. "I'll always love you. This way and any other way you
want." With those words, he slid carefully into Qui-Gon, his
hands moving gently along the other man's thighs.
"Ohhhhhhh, yesssssss!" Qui-Gon hissed, trying to arch in order
to get more of his lover inside him. But Obi-Wan kept it slow,
and Qui-Gon realized that he was being given every chance to
feel as much of this new thing as possible.
Heat and fullness and the faint pain of himself stretching, but
above all, Qui-Gon felt a pleasure like none he'd ever felt.
There was trust here and love and then, suddenly, as Obi-Wan
slid all the way in, there was the white heat of knowing his
lover was inside him, knowing that Obi-Wan now possessed his
body the same way the young man possessed his heart.
"More," Qui-Gon pleaded, although he wasn't sure if he was
asking to take more of Obi-Wan or give more of himself.
Both, love, both.
Obi-Wan moved slowly, his lower lip caught tightly between his
teeth as he felt the slick, tight heat of his lover surround
him. The Force braid tightened around both of them the way
Qui-Gon was tight around Obi-Wan's cock, and for a moment, it
all became too much to keep in hand. He trembled, frozen in
position, his hands gripping Qui-Gon's hips with bruising
strength, as he fought for control.
And then he could feel part of the burden the Force connection
being neatly lifted from him. It wasn't truly like that, of
course, but that's how it felt, as if strong hands were there
to help with a heavy burden. Obi-Wan slumped forward in relief
and opened his eyes to meet Qui-Gon's deep indigo stare.
"You don't bear any burdens alone anymore, my stubborn
Jedi lover."
"How . . .?"
"I learned from the best, Obi-Wan. I learned from you." Qui-Gon
smiled and then did something with his inner muscles that had
Obi-Wan gasping loudly. "Now, you have something to do that
you learned from someone who is, if I say so myself,
rather good at it." He furrowed his brow in a mock glare and
wrapped his legs around his lover. Sliding a hand up Obi-Wan's
chest to tweak one nipple, he added, "I know what it's like
now, so do what you want to do. Let go and fuck me!"
Obi-Wan leaned forward, braced his hands on Qui-Gon's chest,
and slowly pulled back. He waited until the man below him had
lost that look of firm command and then he smiled and thrust
back in. Qui-Gon's body arched under his, and his legs
tightened around Obi-Wan, but through their link, Obi-Wan felt
nothing but pure pleasure. That pleasure wrapped around him and
fueled his own desire and soon both men were wrapped in an
ever-tightening net of ecstasy.
When Obi-Wan managed to reach down and wrap a hand around
Qui-Gon's neglected erection, Qui-Gon responded not only with a
loud moan of desire, but also by reaching around and gently
working one of his fingers inside Obi-Wan.
"Oh Force!" Obi-Wan yelled, thrusting even harder into the body
of his lover.
And, inside both of them, the soulbond fell neatly into place.
Just as their physical bodies completed a circle, so their
minds and souls were connected in the same way, a link with no
break, a ring made of the connection that was more precious
than any mere metal.
Immediately their bodies' rhythm smoothed out, as each of them
instinctively gave the other what he needed. Qui-Gon's low
moans were echoed perfectly by Obi-Wan's higher cries as they
strove to maintain the perfection of the moment. The perfection
of each moment, as they passed somewhere beyond joy, beyond
ecstasy, beyond any pleasure either had ever known.
Finally they reached a point where joy became too much to bear
and to reach for more of it would be the end of them both.
Let go, the words surged over the link, spoken by both
of them.
In a blinding flash of light, a deafening roar of sound, each
found release in a tempest of swirling emotions that ripped
through them, leaving them both shattered and more themselves
than either had ever been. Each felt as if he had been torn
down to the very threads of his existence and then made up
again, only with something of the other woven in.
Obi-Wan opened his eyes, finding himself pressed hard against
his lover's strong chest, feeling the reassuring beat of
Qui-Gon's heart. He knew, even before the quickly drawn breath
warned him, that his lover was going to speak.
"Well, we managed not to destroy the inn," Qui-Gon said, his
voice alive with amusement.
"I think we destroyed me," Obi-Wan replied, lifting his head to
smile at Qui-Gon with wonder.
"We did at that," Qui-Gon replied. "And then we rebuilt you the
way we rebuilt me."
"Mmmmmmm," Obi-Wan's mumble was full of drowsy contentment.
"Like that."
"Me too." Qui-Gon shifted and pulled Obi-Wan into his arms. The
young Jedi was drowsing, half-asleep. "I like it a lot."
I do love thee Qui-Gon Jinn.
As I love thee Obi-Wan Kenobi.
"Like hearing m' birthname from you," Obi-Wan murmured, as he
settled into place on Qui-Gon's shoulder. "Sleep now; think
tomorrow."
"Aye, love."
Qui-Gon awoke and stretched lazily. Admit it, old man,
he thought, you became too decadent in Coures. His arm
moved to the other side of the bed, although his mind was
already telling him that Obi-Wan was not in bed with him.
If you're afraid of decadence setting in, Obi-Wan's
clear mental "voice," sounded in his head, come down to the
yard and tell me if I'm doing this right.
Qui-Gon felt a faint rush of fear, would all his casual
thoughts now be spread open before his lover? The answer
presented itself from the part of his memory that he recognized
as belonging to Obi-Wan. He'd been projecting; all he had to do
was shield and Obi-Wan would respect that shielding.
Shaking his head at the idea of himself practicing Jedi
disciplines, he quickly dressed, noticing that there were new
clothes draped over a chair. With a smile he pulled on the dark
pants, and draped and tied the rough brown tunic. His belt and
his boots completed the outfit, and he hurriedly brushed of his
hair and pulled it back into a simple tail. Grabbing his sword
from its place by the bed, he headed out of the room to see
what Obi-Wan was up to.
The scene in the inn's yard brought the former king up short.
Obi-Wan was sparring! Dressed almost like Qui-Gon, except that
his tunic was buff colored homespun and he'd wrapped a sash of
the same color around his waist, the Jedi Monk was holding a
hand and a half long-sword and sparing with a surprised looking
Sergeant Oln-Niv. Several others of the troop looked on, as did
both Nienve and Amidala, who were leaning on wooden practice
swords.
Obi-Wan's movements were a little desperate, but there was a
real strength there. The strength, Qui-Gon mused, of chopping
wood and kneading bread for an entire Temple of Jedi. It was
the wrong strength for swordplay and the only thing that was
saving Obi-Wan was his intimate knowledge of Qui-Gon's ability.
"Hold!" Qui-Gon bellowed, and both Obi-Wan and Oln-Niv lowered
their swords.
"Why the hand and a half?" the mercenary bluntly asked Obi-Wan.
"It's what you use, so it's what I know."
"Not all I use and not all you know," Qui-Gon replied. "Masik,
give him your sword. Obi-Wan, go one handed for a moment." He
poured information into Obi-Wan's receptive mind and the Jedi
monk nodded.
"That seems to suit me better," but then he paused. "It's still
wrong somehow."
"Because of the killing?" asked Amidala.
"No," Obi-Wan replied. "Something is missing." He looked at
Qui-Gon. "Some of the things I've been doing, here," and he
tapped his head, "come from you. None of this comes from me."
A sliver of memory tickled at the back of Qui-Gon's brain. He
clamped down on it and gently shielded himself from his lover.
"Trust me and do as I say."
"Aye, Captain," came the reply, offered with a faint smirk.
"Begin the Seventh Gesture Into Stillness," Qui-Gon said
softly. "Go with the exercise and I'll match you. Only balance
the blade in one hand."
Obi-Wan nodded. The Seventh was an odd numbered Gesture (or to
be more exact a series of gestures) and often called for uneven
balancing, so the blade in his hand offered no problem. Next to
him he could feel and see Qui-Gon going through the Gestures,
his longer blade flashing in the early morning sun.
Attack us, Qui-Gon thought at Amidala and Nienve, hoping
they would hear him and that Obi-Wan wouldn't.
Obi-Wan was just settling into the smooth rhythm of the
Gestures, letting the sword in his hand become an extension of
his movements, when suddenly he was struck, none too lightly,
on the side by Nienve's wooden practice blade. Immediately he
defended, using Qui-Gon's knowledge of a single-handed blade,
the particular gesture he'd been moving into, and some strange
manifestation of the Force. At his side he felt Qui-Gon taking
on Amidala and felt more and more of that strange Force
building up, until he flung the countess aside and stood,
panting and wild-eyed at what he'd . . .. what they'd
done.
Four blades glowed in the rough courtyard of that country inn.
Qui-Gon's sword was edged in the green that had always been his
signal color, while Nienve's was a pale violet, and Amidala's a
warm gold. And his own sword . .. . Obi-Wan stared at the
length of Force enhanced steel in his hand, glowing blindingly
blue-white.
"I can't," he said suddenly. "I can't kill with it!" Staring at
Qui-Gon with desperate eyes, he fled toward the refuge of the
forest.
"Keep working with those blades," Qui-Gon muttered to the
women, as he prepared to follow his lover, his own glowing
blade half forgotten in his hand. What have I done to
him?
"Obi-Wan!" he yelled as he ran out of the inn yard. "Obi-Wan?!"
His lover had vanished, not from Qui-Gon's mind senses, but he
could hear no sound or see no indication of Obi-Wan's presence.
Fearing for his lover, he ran hard into the forest,
instinctively following Obi-Wan's trail. Trees rushed by in a
blur, but he didn't notice, so focused on Obi-Wan was he.
And when he found him . . .
Obi-Wan was dancing, the blade of blue-silver moving with each
graceful body movement. A dance, yes, but a deadly dance;
Qui-Gon could see that much as Obi-Wan leapt nimbly over a thin
fallen tree trunk to land on a thick stump, blade still weaving
against some unknown foe. Here was no Gesture Into Stillness,
but something very like what Qui-Gon's old captain had called a
Form of Death.
And something in Qui-Gon responded to it, until he was suddenly
facing Obi-Wan, reaching for the Just Form of Death, trying to
remember the steps and movements. Their blades clashed,
screeching beyond the sound of mere metal meeting, sparks of
green and blue-white showering around them like falling stars.
The Just Form was primarily defensive and soon Qui-Gon found
himself pressed hard by whatever it was Obi-Wan was doing. But
he also found himself adapting the Form, covering its
weaknesses to meet Obi-Wan's strength and to utilize his own.
And Obi-Wan met him as well, striving and pushing, refusing to
give ground before his lover's experience and size advantage.
His movements became more nimble, and, from Obi-Wan's own
memories, Qui-Gon recognized the Gestures of Breath, an air
based movement used only by truly gifted Jedi.
The captain countered with the Granite Form of Death, letting
Obi-Wan's air flow around his own stone. The whip-slim body
flicked at him, curling, and licking at his defenses, but he
stood strong and solid, forcing his opponent to do all the
work. Just when he thought it would work, that he would
triumph, Obi-Wan pulled back and settled into the Gesture Into
Stillness again. If Qui-Gon wanted to win; he'd have to come
into Obi-Wan's world now.
Qui-Gon's mind raced at the same amazing speed it did during
battle, calling up and discarding half a dozen answering moves
in seconds, watching the slow, almost hypnotic movements of
Obi-Wan's blade. And then he merely stared, for Obi-Wan's
Gesture was melding with Qui-Gon's earlier Form, until Granite
met Stillness.
"I could," Qui-Gon said softly, "do the same. The Whip Form and
the Gestures of Breath would work well here." He lowered his
sword, the amazing green glow fading as the tip touched ground.
"But I am not the man you fight, my love."
Obi-Wan finally moved to stillness and remained in one pose,
still and straight, his blade lightly held, chest height and to
one side, in two slim hands, for a long moment, forcing the
breath to catch repeatedly in Qui-Gon's throat.
"Everything I learned leads to death," Obi-Wan whispered, not
moving, except for the slight heaving of his chest.
"Right now? Yes, because there is no other answer."
"No! That's not good enough."
"For a mercenary," Qui-Gon replied, "it has to be. Who would
you rather have doing the killing? People who are trained and
stick to a certain code? One which, I might add,
strongly discourages the killing or looting of
civilians. Or would you rather see Xanatos' army come spilling
across the border of a people they hate, killing anything that
gets in their path."
Qui-Gon spread his hands. "This is not the Temple, my love. I
wish for all our sakes it was. I tire of killing; you know
that. Why do you think I tried to be king for a time? I thought
I could stop killing. Instead they tried to kill me." He
slumped down to sit on a stump. "You thought it yourself
yesterday. 'I love a killer.' That's what I am Obi-Wan, and my
greatest regret is that I made you a killer too."
"No! You didn't make me a killer any more than your first
Captain made you a killer. I will kill; I have seen it all my
life and, childlike, I've tried to hide from it. But when I do
kill, it will be in defense. If not of a life, then of a way of
life." He moved and the glittering blade in his hands caught
Qui-Gon's eyes. "But I swear to you, my love, my soul, that if
I kill in rage, this blade will turn against me and pour its
fire into my veins."
And then Obi-Wan's blade was just steel and he was kneeling
next to Qui-Gon, laying a shaking hand on his lover's hand. "Oh
Qui-Gon, we can't go back, we can't run; we can go nowhere but
forward. And I fear. I'm so afraid. They told me always that
fear leads to the Dark, and still I fear myself, and what I've
become, just as I fear Xanatos and the Pretender and his
Demon."
He laid his head on Qui-Gon's lap, and stilled any response by
squeezing his lover's hand. "The only thing I don't fear, that
I can't fear, is you."
"I do."
"I know. I think we all fear ourselves most of all."
"This power, Obi-Wan . . ."
"Is it any different than the power of your own sword, Qui-Gon?
Or your words, which could kill when you were King?"
Qui-Gon bent and kissed the short auburn hair. "Are we then
here to do nothing for all this great prophecy than to ease
each other's fear?"
His hand was released and Obi-Wan's sword sank to the forest
floor. Those strong slim hands began to caress him knowingly.
"Not just that, I should think."
"My wanton monk," Qui-Gon whispered as a new thought crossed
his mind, sent there, he was sure, by the lover kneeling before
him.
"Yes! A wanton bed-boy, that's what you've made of me, Qui-Gon
Jinn, and I'd have it no other way."
The hands pulled Qui-Gon down onto the damp ground and then
Obi-Wan's body twisted. Qui-Gon's pants were pulled open and
those hands, so warm, were caressing his already hardening
cock. He was facing the equally hardening bulge in Obi-Wan's
pants and he swiftly moved to free it, lest his lover get too
far ahead of him.
Mouths slid over hard silky flesh as fingers skillfully toyed
with sensitive velvet skin, and then each eased one finger, and
then another, inside the other's tight body. Oh, a
thought came across the bond, to fuck you and be fucked by
you.
A round of love that never stops.
To love this way, all ways possible, forever.
And so we shall, love, so we shall.
Release, occurring too swiftly, rolled over them, leaving both
shivering in the chill morning air. Qui-Gon smiled a little and
carefully "thought" his cloak over both of them, Obi-Wan having
left his behind.
"You're learning, love," Obi-Wan said.
"I'm far from the only one, my wanton bed-boy."
*
When they finally made it back to the inn, it was afternoon and
both Amidala, Nienve and Sergeant Oln-Niv were more than a
little annoyed.
"You can't just disappear like that!" Amidala snapped,
leaving Obi-Wan to wonder how the girl had ever managed to
pretend to be a servant.
"I'm sorry his qualms about a totally new form of
killing people bothered Your Highness," Qui-Gon snapped
at the girl.
"It takes too much Force to ever be effective," Nienve said
coolly.
"Please," Obi-Wan said, his voice very soft. Their eyes all
turned toward him and he smiled.
"To light a sword with the Force does take a great deal of
power," he said carefully. "However, combined with certain
exercises taught both in the East, and by the Jedi, it is
possible to maintain the light on a sword, and to fight with
it."
"Begging your pardon, Brother, but what do you know of
fighting?"
"Everything I know, Sergeant," Qui-Gon answered, "and some
different . . . Forms as well."
"The Gestures," Nienve said thoughtfully, looking at her
practice sword.
Obi-Wan nodded. "I also think metal will hold the Force fire
longer and easier than wood. Do both of you have proper
swords?"
The women nodded, and Obi-Wan looked at Qui-Gon. "What next,
Captain?"
As Qui-Gon opened his mouth to reply, one of the troopers came
running up. "Captain, there's a woman on a mule, says she's a
Jedi sister." He looked at Obi-Wan with awe and fear, and
Qui-Gon could feel his lover's disappointment that the word
Jedi suddenly brought on those emotions.
So do the words king and mercenary, he thought, and was
rewarded by a faint smile from Obi-Wan.
"Did she give a name?" Obi-Wan asked.
"Sister Bant, Brother."
"Bant!" Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon said at the same time, both
smiling. Qui-Gon nodded to the trooper who went off to escort
the visitor.
"Why would Father Mace send Bant?" Obi-Wan mused, after his
initial delight wore off.
"To keep you out of trouble, although I fear I'm too late," a
cheerful voice sounded.
Obi-Wan moved quickly to lift the large-eyed young woman off
her mule. For a moment their eyes met and then she shook her
head. "So you finally realized it, did you?"
He didn't bother to reply and she turned to Qui-Gon. "I am a
Jedi monk," she said for his ears only. "I have taken vows of
obedience and follow a course of non-violence. But my parents
were fisherfolk. Hurt him and you'll learning why they call it
a gutting knife."
"I'd throw myself on it," he replied gravely, a faint smile
hovering around his eyes.
She nodded once and then stepped back a little. "Actually,
Captain, it is to you as well as Obi-Wan that Father Mace sends
his letter and a gift."
She handed the letter to Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon leaned over his
lover's shoulder.
Beloved Student, he thought to Obi-Wan, Mace always
had an eye for . . .
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