Explorations Rating: NC-17 m/m sex
by MacParing: OW/QG
Summary: When Obi-Wan reveals something he shouldn't, Xanatos steps in to complicate an already complicated situation.
Type: AU, First Time, H/C, angst
Disclaimer: Lucas owns them, I do this for fun!
We shall not cease from exploration
and the end of all our exploring
will be to arrive where we started
and know the place for the first time-T. S. Eliot
Between the dawn of one day and the next that seemed like any other they would each ask to die and wish to live, experience pain, humiliation and grief, laughter and sorrow, love and hate, the Dark and the Light.
And it started much as any other day...
Obi-Wan was having trouble concentrating. At eighteen he knew he was good at most things he did and was fairly happy with himself. He was among the best of the Padawans; excellent with the Lighsabre, a good scholastic student, athletic and skilled in hand-to-hand combat and learning patience and skill in diplomacy. He had one of the best living Jedi Masters to teach him and his own sense of self-worth to carry him through when anything went wrong.
His only real weakness if it was a weakness - was a habit of drifting within the Force, allowing it to take him away from the moment. For one so level-headed under most situations, he showed an unfortunate tendency, according to his Master, to woolgather.
This lack of control had bothered his Master finally to the point where he had decided that some serious training was called for. Such training required quiet and solitude and Qui-Gon had booked one of the smaller meditation gardens at the Temple for an afternoon's session. It was peaceful, the afternoon sun warmed Obi-Wan's back as he sat comfortably on a cushioned pad on the grass, legs tucked about him, arms on his lap.
He closed his eyes and lowered himself into the first level meditative stage, sensing Qui-Gon opposite him as a single intense focus of the Force, watching and waiting. He reached out, gathered himself together and sought balance, released his tensions and a stray awareness of Qui-Gon's aura intruded, the physical and emotional core of his Master lighting on Obi-Wan's inner senses like the sun on his skin.
So strong...so centred...and he was slapped back out of the first level by Qui-Gon's annoyance across the training link.
CONCENTRATE!
He took a deep breath, blew it out and tried again. Again he only managed to penetrate to the second level before the drifting patterns of Force energies distracted him. He heard Qui-Gon sigh and opened his eyes.
"I will help you centre this time, but you must learn to do it yourself. I don't understand this problem you're having, Padawan. You mastered this technique when you fourteen."
He shook his head, fingering his braid, staring into the distance. "I don't understand it either, Master. There's a current in the Force, something odd, vague. Every time I try and centre it pulls me off."
Qui-Gon's eyes narrowed and Obi-Wan could sense his Master's attempts to trace the current. "I don't feel anything. Whatever it is, you must not let it distract you. Give me your hands." His Master held out his hands and Obi-Wan took one in each of his, settling himself back and relaxing into the familiar tactile sense of Qui-Gon's touch.
The big hands were warm and steady and he could feel the slow pulse beat under the skin. It seemed to go through to his centre until his own heartbeat mirrored it, beat for beat. Their link had been strengthening of late as he became aware of his own body, of Qui-Gon's, of how much he wanted to touch that body, be touched by it...
Qui-Gon chose that moment to deepen his contact with Obi-Wan through the link and he received all of Obi-Wan's thoughts and feelings, the fantasies and lusts he had kept secreted in a private part of his consciousness. They had been there in that moment and Obi-Wan felt Qui-Gon's hands clench and drop away and his own eyes flew open as he gave a strangled gasp.
He saw some sort of odd expression on his Master's face before the features closed into an icy neutrality. Was it humiliation or shock or just plain disgust? He had no references to go on and Qui-Gon's own thoughts and feelings were locked away behind industrial-strength shields. Obi-Wan wanted to ask for some sort of forgiveness but his jaw was frozen shut.
Qui-Gon stood, straightened his robes and turned for the door.
"That's enough for today. I shall talk to you later."
He struggled to his feet, all composure gone and waited a few moments, biting his lip, cursing himself in silent flagellation. He turned and left, finally, wondering how he could have been so lax, so stupid. Everything was ruined, all the years, the trust, the relationship they'd built. The embarrassment was almost painful, he had to get away and think...or perhaps stop thinking. He saw a familiar face at the end of the passageway and called out.
"Shenk! Hold a moment."
The other Padawan stopped and waved. "Obi-Wan, hi!" He saw his friend's expression as he approached and frowned. "What's the matter, you look like your best friend just died."
"Almost that bad. Listen, you mentioned once that there was a Club of some sort nearby where some of the Padawans went off-Temple? Where was it again?"
Shenk grinned. "The Oh-so-proper Obi-Wan Kenobi wants to party? A first!"
Obi-Wan sighed and the older boy grinned. "Alright, just teasing. It's called Heroes, its been around forever. Here, take this," he said, pulling a card from his Chip folder. "Just show this at the door and you'll get a first drink free. You should see some familiar faces there."
Obi-Wan tucked the card into his tunic. "Thanks, I just need..."
"To get away. I know. I love it here but sometimes you do need to get out. Take credits, they don't take Chips." Shenk slapped him on the shoulder and turned to leave. "Have fun. The drinks aren't watered and the band is great."
Obi-Wan gave Shenk a distracted thanks and headed off for his rooms at a fast trot. Thankfully his Master wasn't there and he pulled his tunic and leggings off in a rush. It was odd to dress in something other than the tunics he'd worn all this life. He had to admit, though, as he looked in the mirror, that the dark blue trousers, cream shirt and soft brown leather jacket suited him well. He pulled on his boots and stuffed a handful of credits into his inner coat pocket before heading out to order up a skycab.
Heroes was discreetly located in a large retail tower a couple of miles from the Temple. By the time the cab dropped him at the entry foyer the afternoon had faded to early evening and the late day traffic was turning the sky into broken lines of light. He flashed the card at the Club doordroid and went inside, feeling oddly nervous. He'd rarely gone anywhere new without Qui-Gon and if he hadn't been feeling so wretchedly miserable it would have been something of an adventure.
Xanatos was sitting in a shadowed corner near the end of the bar but he still saw and sensed Obi-Wan as soon as he came through the door. Heroes didn't seem like the sort of place Qui-Gon Jinn would want his precious Padawan to visit and in spite of the danger, Xanatos was intensely curious.
The room was lit by warm gold and cream standing lamps amid the scattered tables. The band's music was muted, it being only early evening and there were only a few people seated at stools in front of the long real wood bar. Xanatos watched Obi-Wan made his way through the tables to a stool in front of the bar. The older man smiled as he watched the Jedi studying the large array of bottles and jars behind the counter. The child had probably never had a drink in his life. And why was he there?
Curiosity will be my downfall he thought, as he stood to cross the distance between them. But it was unlikely the younger man would recognise him. He'd come to Coruscant on business and hadn't been able to resist visiting his favourite bar. Being so close to the Temple had necessitated disguise and he was quite pleased with the result. He'd lightened his hair to dark blonde, applied a similar colouring to his short beard and moustache and covered the scar on his cheek with pseudoskin. He doubted Kenobi would recognise him in the dim light, after five years and many lights years travelled. Even so, it added spice to the meeting, that little bit of risk...
As he made his way to the bar he saw the liquor waiter approach Kenobi to take his order, heard the younger man's hesitation.
"I don't know..."
"Give him a Metal Sunset with Hahuba."
The Toydarian waiter turned to Xanatos with a sniff. "Hahuba? Are you..."
"Yes, I'm sure." He tossed a coin to the hovering alien, who sniffed again, picked it up and left.
Kenobi, meanwhile, had swivelled on his stool and looked up at him, all innocent inquiry.
"I'm sorry, do I know you?"
"No, but you looked like you needed a hand, young Padawan."
Obi-Wan blinked. "I'm supposed to be in disguise."
Xanatos grinned. "Probably be a good idea to get rid of the braid, then."
"Oh." He pulled the braid, looked a bit sheepish, then smiled back. "I'm so used to it I forget its there." He studied Xanatos' face, frowned slightly. "You look familiar, you're not a Jedi, are you?"
Xanatos knew he was sensing the Force and responded smoothly. "Was. Went onto other things."
That was obviously a new thought for the young man. "You mean, you quit being a Jedi?"
"Not quite chose another career. They wanted me to be something I couldn't. I wanted my freedom. Worked out best for all concerned." He took a sip of his drink and liked his lips thoughtfully, decided to test the water. "Only person I regretted leaving was my Master."
The ploy worked; Xanatos saw Kenobi flush and squirm with discomfort. "Mine will probably be glad to see the last of me."
Ah, a tiff. Look at him, so vulnerable..."Had an argument with your Master, did you?"
Kenobi snorted and rubbed his face with one hand. "No, we didn't have time to argue. Let us just say, he found out something inappropriate. And now I think I'd like to have a drink or six and forget all about it."
On the outside Xanatos was all sympathetic courtesy inside he practically chortled. Unrequited love, nothing tastes quite like it in the Force. The vague curiosity that had set him on this course began to stir a deeper plan. Fate, it seemed, had offered him an opportunity and it was simply a matter of deciding how best to make use of it...
Those six drinks, mixed as they were with Hahuba, certainly did the trick. The waiter watched the young Padawan's slide into befuddlement with obvious concern and finally approached Xanatos, hovering next to him above the bar.
"Hahuba you know, friend, isn't good for humans. Side affects can be a problem."
"I've paid you to be quiet," Xanatos said softly, watching Obi-Wan trying to built a small pile of glasses using the Force. The pile was extremely unsound.
"This bar is much used by the Jedi, my reputation is valuable to me, stranger."
"Don't worry, I have no intention of harming your bar's reputation." He gave the little alien a mental shove and slid closer to Obi-Wan.
"How goes it, Padawan?"
"Oh...jolly." With the tip of his tongue sticking out from the edge of his mouth as he concentrated on lifting another glass, Kenobi has the sweet innocence of the young and soused. "Concentrate...Padawan...centre yourself. I know...where I'd like to...centre myself...Master..."
Xanatos couldn't hid his grin. He tipped the remainder of the Hahuba into a glass and topped it up with Shotrum. "You didn't finish your drink."
Obi-Wan eyed the glass unsteadily. "So I didn't." He picked it up and swallowed it in one gulp. He tried to put the empty glass on the pile but couldn't co-ordinate his hand movements with his wandering eye focus and only managed to drop it over the back of the bar. "Oh dear. Failed again. That's one thing I'm good at, failing. Do it all the time."
The door opened and a crowd of noisy young people came in, heading for the bar. Xanatos decided it was time to move to the next phase. What he had planned for young Kenobi needed to be done in private.
"I think I may be able to help you, Obi-Wan. Let's go somewhere a bit quieter and talk about it."
Made malleable by the drink and Hahuba, Obi-Wan nodded and smiled. "Sure. Don't forget the drinks." He stood, wavered a bit and smiled again as Xanatos took his elbow and guided him from the bar towards a side door.
He had walked out of the garden with the air of a man fully in control. Control was an illusion, he'd left merely to put distance between them so he could think. So that he could study the shock that was zapping his nervous system, short-circuiting his brain. And to worry as well. About Obi-Wan. About himself.
Xanatos' fall had shaken his self-confidence to the point where he'd found it difficult to trust himself, or believe in his own abilities as a Master. He hadn't believed he had whatever it took to be responsible for bringing a Jedi child to manhood. He'd accepted Obi-Wan because, at the time, he couldn't have done anything else. The boy had been willing to die for him and for all the other innocents on Bandomeer. His purity within the Force had shone like a star and no true believer could have turned away from him. Yet now it seemed he'd made some sort of crucial error again.
Bad enough to want him, though he'd thought those dark desires had been well and truly hidden at the bottom of what passed for his mind. But when the boy had let slip his own youthful fantasies, what had he done? Had he stayed, shown a mature compassion, explained that such feelings were not uncommon? No. He had bolted out the door like a nervous virgin, like a foolish old man afraid to reveal his own needs. But perhaps "virgin" wasn't too far off the mark. I am, in every way that counts. Untouched by...love...Till now.
The Force did move in mysterious ways. It had made his last Padawan the one spirit that most matched his own, the mind most perfectly attuned to his, the body that was so beautiful to his eyes. His heart had been a fallow field until a young, intense boy had demanded his acceptance and affection until he could, with that slight, sweet smile, turn his Master's heart and life upside down.
He walked for what seemed hours but didn't arrive anywhere that seemed to offer hope. Ignore it? Act on it? Find Obi-Wan an interim Master so that he could reach his trials? Throw himself off a balcony? All those paths would have him hitting the ground at terminal velocity, injured beyond hope of recovery.
He arrived back at their mutual quarters finally, no closer to a solution. Obi-Wan wasn't inside, he could tell that as the door opened. He looked down at the clothes scattered so unnaturally across the floor and frowned. Where had he gone? A frisson of worry sparked in his gut but he knew, instantly, that Obi-Wan was alive. Not in the Temple, but not doing something immediately fatal. He was trying to decide on a course of action when the doorsignal beeped.
It was one of the temple couriers, with an envelope addressed to him. He opened it and his heart faltered at the sight of the small circular symbol on top of the folded small sheet of paper. Opening it, he read the brief message.
Obi-Wan is at Heroes. You'd best come rescue him. X
Dignity and control were forgotten as he bolted out the door.
Hahuba was a mildly intoxicating fruit juice enjoyed by the reptilian K'rench and few other races. However, it had been discovered that when it was added to other alcohols it had the side affecton humans of removing all natural inhibition and making them susceptible to suggestion.
If there be confusion, Xanatos thought with a grim smile as he manouvred Obi-Wan into one of the Club's back rooms, let it be organised. And let it be the kind of confusion to bring payment in full to his old Master. Revenge could have many layers, many twists and turns and Xanatos wished Qui-Gon to travel as many of them as possible. The poetry of the vision suddenly blooming in his mind was sublime. It was just right.
He pulled a small packet from his jacket, one of the results of his business trip to Coruscant. He opened the box and extracted a small glass vial full of a pinkish liquid. It was pretty, harmless looking. Deadly as such unsuspected treasures often are. With a flick of one fingernail he snapped the top off and poured the contents into Kenobi's glass.
Life, death and retribution. They'd all become his to command and it felt very good.
Qui-Gon entered the bar at a rush and looked around, sensing through he Force for a familiar aura. There was no trace of Xanatos, but Obi-Wan...He turned to the drink waiter. "Where is he?"
The Toydarian nodded to a side door. "In there. It wasn't my idea..."
Ignoring the small alien, Qui-Gon hurried to the door and opened it, then stopped in surprise, before stepping inside to close the door behind him. "Obi-Wan...are you alright..."
His Padawan stood, a little unsteady, then advanced towards him. He was obviously physically uninjured.
He was also completely naked.
The dim light made his skin gleam pale and the changeable eyes smiled up at him. "Master. I'm fine. " And before Qui-Gon could say anything Obi-Wan reached up, pulled his head down and kissed him.
Qui-Gon froze for a moment in shock, then pulled away, grabbing Obi-Wan's shoulders and pushing him back. "Obi-Wan...don't..!"
A pair of strong hands grabbed his robed and began pulling it down his arms. He pulled the hands away and reefed the robe back up. Obi-Wan continued with placid determination, reaching for his belt. Qui-Gon pushed the hands away again, only to have them return to his robe. This was getting ridiculous! He grabbed Obi-Wan's upper arms, only to find himself pushed backwards against the wall, with the entire naked length of his Padawan pressed against him.
Obi-Wan squirmed against him, thighs stroking thighs, stretching up to tip-toe, rubbing himself against Qui-Gon like some great sinuous cat.
I'm going to die, Qui-Gon thought in some sane corner of his mind as his traitorous body reacted to the feel of that extraordinary body stroking him from knee to chest. With one final effort at control he grabbed Obi-Wan again and pushed him back.
"Padawan. I absolutely refuse to have sex with you in the backroom of a bar!"
Obi-Wan smiled lazily up at him. "Where will you have sex with me then?"
Sith! "Why don't we go back to our quarters.." He shifted sideways, only to have one long leg drape itself around him. And then there was a surge in the Force and Obi-Wan lifted himself off the ground, wrapping both legs around him, pushing his groin against Qui-Gon's, triggering an explosive arousal. He felt an odd sense of pride in Obi-Wan's ability to use the Force even when intoxicated.
Now was the time to act. He looked across into the eyes now level with his and projected his wishes along the link. "Home, Obi-Wan. We need to go home. Now. Big bed, private, comfortable. Not here."
The images got through and Obi-Wan sighed and dropped back and down. "Alright. Let's go." He headed for the door and Qui-Gon pulled him back.
"I think it might be a good idea if you put some clothes on, don't you?"
Obi-Wan looked down at himself and laughed. "Yes, good idea, Master."
Qui-Gon leant back against the wall for a few seconds, fought for sanity and control. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and straightened. Time to be a Jedi Master again, and not just a fool. Although it seemed one could be both. Is this what Xanatos had planned, then, this total humiliation for both of them? It seemed a petty cruelty and he wondered what he wan't seeing, but it took all his concentation to get Obi-Wan out of the bar and into a cab, time later to worry what Xanatos' motives might have been...
The ride back to the Temple was difficult. Obi-Wan's hands had a tendency to wander all over him and he finally had to hold them both in his to keep them still. The walk through the Temple raised more than few eyebrows which he resolutely ignored, although he imagined word would get around and he'd probably be talking to Yoda or Mace shortly. And once inside their rooms Obi-Wan wasted no time. Wrapping himself around Qui-Gon, he kissed his Master with a thoroughness that Qui-Gon could only appreciate for its technique. And the feel of that wonderful mouth and tongue tasting of wine and passion. Forbidden fruit indeed.
Not fighting the grip, Qui-Gon lifted Obi-Wan off his feet, turned, and pushed through into the bathroom. Before Obi-Wan could even register the fact, he'd moved into the shower stall and turned the cold water tap on full strength.
The cold water hit Obi-Wan on the back of the head, drenching him in an icy rush. He yelped and tried to squirm away but Qui-Gon held him under the flow until he was completely soaked and shivering. Sober finally, wet and miserable, he looked across into Qui-Gon's face, his own face wet and red.
"Please...Master...let me go..."
Qui-Gon released him and turned off the water. "I'm sorry, Obi-Wan. I had to do it..."
He watched Obi-Wan struggle backwards out of the shower and followed him, grabbing a towel as he went. Obi-Wan stood in the middle of their mutual parlour, water pooling on the floor and Qui-Gon's heart thudded at the miserable image, at the feelings flooding him along their link shame, humiliation, embarrassment. They struck him like knives, slicing into his heart.
"Obi-Wan..."
One white hand raised to silence him, though Obi-Wan didn't look at him. "Please. Don't. Say. Anything." He stayed still for a moment then turned slowly and walked to his own room, keeping himself under rigid control. It was the hardest thing Qui-Gon had ever asked of himself, not to move, not to speak, not to try and do something at that moment to ease Obi-Wan's pain.
He'd begun to think there was no solution when the communicator on his desk beeped for attention. Standing with a sigh at the intrusion of the real world, he moved to it and flipped it on then straightened in shock at Xanatos' oddly-featured but instantly recongisable face. Yet even in the midst of his shock he had enough presence of mind to flip on the Record/Trace button with a finger of the Force.
"Good evening, Qui-Gon. Rescued your stray lamb, have you?"
"What in the...Xanatos...why are you doing this? What do you want?"
"Oh, a great many things. Wealth. Power. Revenge. Particularly revenge. " The younger man held up an empty glass vial. "I fed this to your apprentice while he was a little under the influence. It's a nasty little concotion containing a subject-specific toxin. In a fairly short time Kenobi will start to feel a bit dizzy. About two hours after that he'll feel as if every nerve in his body is being torn out, one at a time. Not too long after that he will die in agony."
Qui-Gon's hands gribbed the desk top, fury and fear grabbing his chest in a punishing grip. "You bastard!"
Xanatos smiled. "Name-calling won't help. This," he said, holding up a green vial, "is the only thing that will. It's the only antidote, in case you were thinking of going to the Jedi labs yourself. As I said, the chemical is subject-specific. It tailors itself to the taker. By the time your labs even managed to figure out what it was composed of, he'll be a twitching corpse."
"What do you want?" Qui-Gon's voice quivered with rage.
"I would have thought that was obvious - for you to suffer while he dies." Xanatos smiled at the terror flowering across Qui-Gon's face. "Payment in full".
Before Qui-Gon could even start to plead, the line went dead.
He lay on his bed for a long time, staring at the ceiling, wishing for oblivion. The chill of his wet clothes finally stirred him to move and he dragged the damanable clothing off himself, threw it into the disposal unit with disgust. If only he could rid himself of the memories at the same time. He looked at the Jedi tunics and legging in his closet, wondered if he could justifiably wear them. Having thrown away the only civilian' wear he owned, there was nothing else and he finally pulled out a clean set of tunics and leggings and dressed with automatic care. As he ran a comb through his hair he studied the white, weary face in the mirror. Waited for some magical, astonishingly clever solution to present itself.
There were always alternatives, weren't there? Wasn't that what you told me, Master? Look for the alternatives, Obi-Wan. The obvious way may not be the right way. I get drunk and try to seduce my Master? What are my choices now? What are the alternatives?
He sat on the edge of his bed and stared at the wall, wishing for a time loop to go back to the beginning and start over. Yet that would not remove the basis of his quandrey, wouldn't change the fact that he loved Qui-Gon, needed him more than breathing. Nothing before death would change that.
Well, sitting there stewing in his own juices wouldn't make things any better. No problem was ever solved by just chewing on it. It had to be faced and what would come, would come. He stood, took a deep breath and walked out into the parlour.
And stopped dead. Qui-Gon was sitting next to the communicator, his head lowered into his hands. His whole body spoke of misery and Obi-Wan stiffened in shock. Had he done that? Was he being punished in this existence for reasons beyond his understanding?
He must have made some slight sound; Qui-Gon jerked upright and turned to face him and Obi-Wan was even more shocked. He'd never seen such misery, such pain. He took a step backwards, shaking his head.
"I...I...don't..."
Before he could think of something else to say Qui-Gon stood and moved to him, took him into his arms and held him very tight.
"I'm sorry. This is my fault."
Before Obi-Wan could even start to try and understand what was happening Qui-Gon released him. "You don't realise," he said, his voice low and very unsteady, "who it was with you in that bar, did you? No, I don't suppose you do. It was Xanatos."
Obi-Wan jerked, wondering how many more things could shock him. "Xanatos! But...it didn't look like Xanatos? How could he..." He stopped and took a deep breath. "Of course, the drinks. He must have put something in them, to confuse me."
Qui-Gon took his hand and led him to a chair. "He did more than that. Sit. This is difficult."
Obi-Wan sat and watched his Master pace back and forth across the room. "What, Master? What's wrong?" This was more than some foolish drunken stupidity, he could sense Qui-Gon's fear radiating through the room like heat. "What did he do?"
Qui-Gon stopped, turned to him, his face bleak. "He poisoned you. Put something in the drink."
Fear grabbed him in the middle, made him gasp. "Poison? What sort of...poison?"
"I don't know, something particularly vicious if I known Xanatos. He said our laboratories wouldn't do any good and I tend to believe him. He said he had an antidode - we have to try and locate him."
Obi-Wan took a shaky breath, wondering at how long his calm would hold. "Did he...did he say how long...I have?"
"A few hours. Not a lot of time. We'll get a blood sample to the Healers just in case, but we need to find him and find the antidote he claims he has."
He'd come close to dying, in battle, with a lighsabre in his hand. The death that Xantos had given him wasn't what he would have chosen but it was a fate he might need to face and he would face it as a man. He straightened and took a deep breath. "We may not find it in time. If we don't..."
Qui-Gon flinched. "We will!"
"If we don't then I will ask you to help me, at the end. I don't wish to go out like some pain-madenned animal. If it is something he's concocted, then I don't imagine it will treat me gently." He looked across in his Master's eyes, demanding a match to his conviction. "Please."
"Don't ask me to kill you," Qui-Gon whispered and Obi-Wan reached out, taking his Master's hand, feeling the long fingers wrap around his.
"I will already be dead. I'm just asking you to send me on my way with more kindness than he would show."
They stood together as the fatal seconds ticked by and Obi-Wan sensed Qui-Gon's final acceptance in the firming grip of his fingers. He didn't answer with words but Obi-Wan understood anyhow. His Master would do what needed to be done.I should ask him not to give into vengeance, he thought as the fingers slid away, but I'm human enough to want that. To want my murderer dead.
The blood tests confirmed the worst. There was already some early signs of neural damage and before they'd finished their testing Obi-Wan was feeling the first attacks of disoreintation. If he rose too quickly his head swum and his eyes would lose their focus every now and then without warning.
With all their vast technology and skill within the Force the Healers could do little. They gave him medicine to take if the pain grew too bad and shots to increase his energy but he refused to take depressants to numb the neural shock. Anything of that nature would slow him down and he need to stay quick if he was to have chance.
Mace and Yoda had offered all the support of the Order but after an hour of pointless investigation Qui-Gon knew that Xanatos would be found only if he wished to be. The communicator trace had led to a public unit on a walkway and was a dead end. Each passing minute filled him with dread as he saw Obi-Wan's gradual decline. His graceful Padawan's steps became clumsier and he would stop every now and then and hold himself still, fighting the small waves of pain that flared in various parts of his body.
He wanted to rage, to scream, to cry. But he couldn't afford to lose his way, not with so much at stake. He had to stay calm, to think. He had returned to his quarters to try and come up with some plan of action while obi-Wan was subjected to yet more tests and was staring out the window with unfocused dread when the communicator bleeped. He switched it on and growled as Xanatos' face appeared.
"How's young Obi-Wan, then? Starting to feel a little poorly?"
Qui-Gon stared at the face of his second Padawan and tried get through the hate to some sort of understanding. "I pity you."
The elegant mouth twisted into a smile. "A waste of a perfectly good emotion. Just remember, I'm still here somewhere. You just have to find me. And be prepared to pay the price."
The line went dead and Qui-Gon sat staring at the blank screen, willing himself to think. What would Xanatos want? What would satisfy that seemingly bottomless hatred?
The door opened behind him and he turned to watch Obi-Wan enter. He stepped inside carefully and stopped, swaying a little, holding onto the wall for a moment. Qui-Gon sensed the flare of pain, quickly submerged, the dizzy wash of disorientation. I will feel all of it, he thought as he watched Obi-Wan fight for control. And even if I wished not to, I will. He strengthened the link, pushed a wave of love and strength and saw the young shoulders straighten, watched a little colour rise in the pale cheeks.
"You look awful," Qui-Gon said as he stood and deliberately avoided offering assistance.
"Thank you, I'd hate to look better than I feel." He slumped into a chair and wiped his eyes. "Healer Esco said to tell you that the final tests will be relayed to you shortly. She's a nice person, she nearly drove herself into a coma trying to heal me. Every time she got one part fixed, another part would go on her." He smiled, a weak shadow of that charming warmth and Qui-Gon's heart twinged. " She said it was like...pushing sand uphill with your fingers."
Qui-Gon sat and tucked shaking hands inside his sleeves. "Well, if Esco couldn't do anything, you know you've been failed by the best." He had a sudden almost overwhelming urge to sob that choked him and he covered it with a cough. "Xanatos just contacted me."
He saw the spark of hope light in Obi-Wan's eyes. "And?"
"Nothing, I'm sorry. I'm not sure what he has in mind other than to torture both of us. If I can keep him on long enough I may be able to think of some way to bargain with him. There must be something he will accept for the antidote."
Obi-wan nodded, obviously not feeling any great assurances of what Xanatos could be persuaded to do. He stood again, waited a moment then turned towards the bathroom. "I just need...a drink."
Qui-Gon stood. "I'll get it. No, just sit on the sofa and wait. You need to conserve your strength."
When he came back with the glass Obi-Wan was sitting with his head back and eyes closed, one hand twitching spasmodically. Closing his own eyes for a moment, Qui-Gon sat beside him and held the glass to his mouth as Obi-Wan managed to focus on it. He took a few mouthfuls and sighed. Then he groaned and Qui-Gon felt the spasm of pain rippling through the body next to him. Obi-Wan sagged against him finally, heart thudding, gasping for breath. And weaker, growing weaker with each passing heartbeat. He slid one arm around the weary shoulder and waited, sharing as much of his strength as he could, not knowing what else to do.
When the call came, finally, it was the first time in many years that he'd welcomed the sight of Xanatos' face.
He'd chosen the place for it open spaces and uncluttered view. Some sort of unoccupied retail area, its empty expanse was broken only by the occasional pillar, and the infrequent ceiling illumination pooled in the dark like scattered moonlight.
Their footsteps echoed through the silence, one firm, one stumbling and he watched them approach, walking from light to dark and into the light again. Their slow place gave him time to assess the situation. He'd given Qui-Gon the rules; no-one else, come only with Kenobi or the antidote goes down the disposal. He hadn't believed Qui-Gon would disobey, the cost was too high.
But he wasn't even sure what he planned to offer, if he planned to offer anything at all. He just wanted to have them there, to be near Qui-Gon, to be a part of it. There was no gratification in this death being long distance. He had to be there.
When they were three or four yards away he held up one hand. "No closer."
Qui-Gon stopped and Kenboi bumped into him, obviously barely able to stand. His face was sheened with sweat visible even in the dim light and he shook, his body twitching as his nervous system went into overload. Qui-Gon held him with one hand but never took his eyes way from Xanatos.
"Give it to me."
"Succinct, to the point." Xanatos grinned, felt light-headed with pleasure. He took the small green-filled bottle from his pocket and held it between thumb and forefinger. "This little thing? Seems so tiny to be so important. You haven't offered me anything. I'm open for bids."
He watched the fury blossom on Qui-Gon's face, saw him take a step forward as if to strike. Then Obi-Wan shuddered, gave a strangled scream and convulsed. Qui-Gon turned in a flash and grabbed his Padawan as he collapsed and they both went down.
Frozen in place, Xanatos watched as Qui-Gon held onto Obi-Wan as his body flailed in weakening spasms, as he moaned and sobbed and finally gave one spine-wrenching twist to lay still in his Master's arms.
"No..." It was a quiet sound, more grief than word coming up from somewhere inside Qui-Gon, a sound Xanatos had never heard, that he felt go right through him.
He never felt that loss for me. Even then all he could feel was greed. No-one would grieve for him that way, no one would shake in silent tears for him, no-one would touch his face with love that way.
He stepped closer, one movement at a time, until he was only one or two lightsabre lengths away. Qui-Gon looked up at him finally, features partly in shadow.
"You've wanted to kill me for a long time. Do it now. With your own hands."
Like a moth to a candle, he felt himself drawn in to Qui-Gon's space. He stood behind him, fingers reaching down to touch lightly on the head that bowed forward once more in grief. And as the thought of how he would do it, how he would kill him, began to form he saw movement in the corner of his eye...
Obi-Wan's hand twitched. And Qui-Gon spun around, grabbed both of his wrists and threw him to the ground. He looked up, shocked, into wide, feral eyes.
"You've made me a good liar, Xanatos." His right hand, the one holding the vial, was wrenched back and he screamed as the bones in his wrist snapped. His fingers flew open and the bottle dropped into Qui-Gon's hand. He rolled away as Qui-Gon turned to pull his Padawan's head up and pour the green liquid into the open mouth.
He didn't stop to look if the antidote was effective. Scrambling to his feet, clutching his mangled wrist, he turned and ran into the night.
Obi-Wan opened his eyes at last and realised they were back at the temple, in their own quarters. Healers were moving about, checking his pulse, trying to take readings but for some reason Qui-Gon was holding him and refusing to let him go. He didn't feel inclined to argue, just snuggled deeper into that hold and floated in the comforting warm of life and Qui-Gon's determined Force aura.
When he woke again he was in bed. A sense of unfamiliarity told him it wasn't his bed. It was Qui-Gon's bed and the owner of that bed was lying next to him, asleep. He'd been undressed at some stage, put into pyjamas and he'd turned in his sleep to lie against Qui-Gon with one arm draped across the wide chest, one leg curled over his Master's thighs.
He lay absolutely still, hardly daring to breathe. If I move this dream will end I'll wake up dying or in pain or sane or simply somewhere else. Not here. Not lying next to him...on top of him...Oh, Force...
Thinking of pain, he realised he felt well, free of the worst of it for the first time in hours. There was some faint residual throb in his back, a low intensity headache and a little numbness in his feet but none of the wrenching convulsions, the hot slicing pain that had made him almost wish for death. Only the faith and strength of the main lying asleep beside him had kept him going.
Qui-Gon had whispered the plan to him as they'd approached Xanatos; pretend to die, get Xanatos close so Obi-Wan could get his hands on the antidote before it was destroyed. It had been easy to pretend all he had to do was let go of the control that had kept him walking through the searing hellpit of pain, just let go and it had rolled over him and dumped him down very close to the real thing, to the leaving behind, to that short walk into the Light.
He must have passed out briefly because the next thing he remembered clearly was Qui-Gon holding him, tipping something warm and bitter into his mouth and telling him to swallow, to breathe, breathe, please don't die..and the words "need" and "love" had come into it somewhere too...but that might just have been wishful thinking. Had he imagined that sense of haunted desperation or the dampness of tears on his face that weren't his own?
It was over though, at last, and he was home again. It was perfect just to lie there, his senses filled by Qui-Gon. He idly stroked the cloth of his tunic, fingers slipping inside to touch the warm skin, his hand lifting with each slow rise and fall of sleeping breath. Obi-Wan nestled his face against Qui-Gon's side, eyes closed, nostrils full of the warm, musky smell that was so familiar, so natural.
Early morning light was coming through the partly open curtains and he lay for awhile just watching the day begin, thankful that he was there to see it. In less than a full day his world had been tipped upside down and thoroughly shaken. At the end of it he was where he most wanted to be. I can thank Xanatos for that. How very odd...
Qui-Gon came awake finally, turned his head to look down at Obi-Wan. "How are you feeling?"
Obi-Wan gave a small, tentative stretch, still wrapped in a warm contented glow. "Fine, I think. Still a bit tired. At least nothing seems to hurt."
Qui-Gon sat up, dislodging Obi-Wan, and pushed the tangled hair away from his face. "Are you hungry? Shall I call up some breakfast?"
He turned onto his back and rested his head on his arms, watching Qui-Gon's face. "No, not yet. What of Xanatos?
Qui-Gon lay back and propped two pillows under his head. "No news. I didn't expect anything else, he's very good at not being found. At least we can be grateful that he didn't lie about the antidote."
He moved to rise and Obi-Wan reached out one hand, suddenly unsure again, hoping he wasn't misreading or dreaming the feelings he was picking up along their newly sensitized link.
"I need..." He looked up, unsure of what to say, feeling suddenly nervous again in spite of everything that had happened. All he knew in that moment was that he wanted to be held again, wanted to bury himself in Qui-Gon's body, immerse himself in the smell and taste of the man next to him more than he wanted to keep breathing. There was only one antidote for this need.
Qui-Gon stopped, looked down at him, features controlled. "I should go. You need to sleep, recover your strength."
"No." He took a deep breath, fixed his gaze on those blue, watching eyes and spoke at last. "I need you. To stay. To touch..." He reached out further, fingers curling, body moving forward, drawn towards Qui-Gon's heat After a moment's hesitation Qui-Gon took the hand in his, opened it palm-up and raised it to his lips.
Obi-Wan held himself very still as that mouth touched him, lips and rough beard stroking skin that felt like raw nerve-end made only for that touch. His finger curled around Qui-Gon's face, fingers stroking the square chin through the beard, exploring each plane of the familiar features. He moved it down to the throat, felt the rapid beat of the pulse, looked up into a wide-open stare that spoke more than words.
"Do you remember," Qui-Gon said very quietly, "yesterday afternoon in the garden?"
Obi-Wan smiled, fingers moving up towards one ear. "Yes. I was so humiliated."
"I wasn't very wise. I just ran away." Qui-Gon's own hands had begun an exploration of their own, sliding slowly over Obi-Wan's chest, feather-light, hesitant. "I couldn't do or say what I wanted to."
"Say it to me now."
Words weren't sufficient. Qui-Gon leant forward across the space between them, closed his eyes and touched Obi-Wan's mouth with his. Just a touch of lips, an offering immediately accepted as Obi-Wan increased the pressure, slid the tip of his tongue into Qui-Gon's mouth, tasted his hidden desire. Both sets of arms moved suddenly until they were wrapped around each other and Obi-Wan was being kissed with more desperate passion than he'd ever known before. He sobbed, opened himself, mouth and mind and heart, wrapping the beloved body in arm and leg and the hot, needful strength of the Force.
Qui-Gon pulled back and Obi-Wan sensed concern. He growled, actually growled. "Don't you dare stop!"
Qui-Gon had the lack of grace to laugh and Obi-Wan surged against him, rolling him over onto his back, bending down to kiss the smiling mouth, his legs wrapped around Qui-Gon's waist.
"My masterful young Padawan," Qui-Gon whispered, "you have far too many clothes on."
Oh, dreams can come true! Obi-Wan set about remedying that. Top and pants were removed and tossed away and then he set about divesting Qui-Gon of anything that interfered with their skin being together. Obi-Wan felt a definite rush of pleasure as his Master lay quiescent, letting him do as he wished. Letting him pull leggings and boots away, run his hands over thighs and chest and stomach, lying still as he bent his head to lick through the dusting of silver-frosted hair to the nipples that peaked under his tongue. He felt Qui-Gon take his braid in hand, pulling it gently as if to guide him but otherwise not saying anything coherent.
He couldn't deny his own fascination with the aroused cock that arched up towards him as his hands and mouth worked their way down that long, wonderful body. By the time he reached his Master's groin, Qui-Gon was a moaning shadow of his former controlled self, legs spreading in desperate wordless need.
He felt suddenly wicked and looked up, eyes narrowed. "I don't want to do anything that might be against the rules of Jedi conduct, Master. Is there something I should know..."
"Obi-Wan!" The familiar dry tone, reduced to a growl, made him smile. "Just shut up and do it!"
Contradictory instructions he thought with a grin, shows his mental state. How can I shut up and do it? He gave up on the idea of rational thought for either of them and bent to take the sleek velvety shaft into his mouth.
Qui-Gon bucked under him, made a choked sound and Obi-Wan hung on, stroking thighs and stomach, sliding one hand underneath Qui-Gon to caress the warm width of his Master's arse as he worked his mouth up and around the thick shaft that tasted of hot, throbbing sex.
He shifted sideways as an insistent hand tugged at his legs, settled himself across Qui-Gon's thighs and lay on his side, one leg up and bent. He stilled for a moment as a large hand moved between his legs to take hold of his cock and he moaned, tongue sliding around and teeth gripping slightly on the expanding shaft in his mouth. He closed his eyes and let himself become one with the rush of sensation as part of him that could still think gloried in the fact that it was Qui-Gon's cock in his mouth, Qui-Gon's hand on him, stroking him to an electrifying arousal.
Rational thought fled, finally, as they both descended to the primitive, their bodies thrashing together in orgasmic climax that timed together almost perfectly. How Qui-Gon had the strength to pull him up into his arms Obi-Wan didn't know. He was content to lay in a boneless heap, damp and sticky and totally exhausted. He did have enough energy left to return the kiss that was given to him, to share the taste of his lover, to glory in the indomitable strength that lay under his hands, completely contented if nowhere near satiated.
So much more to discover, to explore, to know. To take and be taken, to give and receive. He smiled, closed his eyes and went to sleep wrapped in peace and the beat of a perfect heart.
END
Back to the stories