Lost Chapter I
by Esmeralda
Obi-Wan gazed around him despairingly, his fingers touching the cool metal circlet around his neck. A smooth, slender band of dulled silver, deceptively fragile the delicate design belayed its true purpose. A slave collar - outlawed in the Republic - designed to suppress the mental abilities of alien races it completely isolated Obi-Wan from the Force. Trapped in a terrifying vacuum, he couldn't feel *anything*. Even the Mindus had allowed him to sense *something* of the Force - sick, weak or drugged, there had never been this vast empty void.
Blind panic clawed at him, an icy coldness seeping into every limb. Obi-Wan struggled to control his fear, clinging desperately to the faint trace of his Master's powerful presence. Somehow their Bond link persisted - despite the control collar - anchoring him; the aching familiarity all that held him back from plunging into mindless terror. However all his attempts to reach his Master had met with silence. Qui-Gon was alive, and close by, but 'something' was very wrong. Could his captor have spoken the truth? Had Qui-Gon forgotten him? The thought was too painful to bear, and Obi-Wan hastily pushed it aside.
He stood shakily, still weak and dizzy from the duel effects of the Mindus and the stun gun. Drawing deep, calming breaths Obi-Wan moved forward slowly; his joints felt stiff, his limbs cumbersome. *There is no fear there is only the Force*. Obi-Wan allowed Master Yoda's voice to drown out the rising tide of panic. He berated himself bitterly, he would be of little use to Qui-Gon, or himself if he became a gibbering wreck. Somewhat calmer, and more controlled, Obi-Wan began a methodical search of his surroundings, carefully cataloguing each item in his mind.
Obi-Wan assumed that he was in his captor's personal quarters, a fairly standard sized cabin completely dominated by a large bed. The only other furniture was a chair in the corner. However the room was far from empty. His eyes wandered along shelves overflowing with books from various cultures - histories, art, poetry, prose. Obi-Wan frowned as he recognized several more obscure texts relating to philosophy and thought. Other smaller items were buried away between tomes - carved trinkets, plain jewellery - much of it silver; he frowned as he discovered a thread of meditation beads.
Confused and troubled, Obi-Wan stepped back from the books and looked around the rest of the room. The bed and the chair were both draped in rich cloths - blues, purples and deep emerald greens. He swallowed hard as his eyes took in the large mirrors fastened above and to the side of the bed.
Obi-Wan had purposely avoided the mirror on the wall, but now he was reluctantly drawn to it. Teeth worrying his lower lip, he studied his reflection impassively. The Mindus had not been kind to him; his skin was pale, almost white - stretched tight across bones which seemed even more pronounced than before. It gave his face an oddly feline cast - eyes glittering green against the milky pallor. Obi-Wan grimaced, well aware of how he looked...haunted, feral...vulnerable. He shivered, and turned away.
Knowing it was futile he studied the door-lock mechanism, but without tools or the Force it was clear he had no hope of releasing it. Frustrated he turned back to face the room - and frowned - there was another door.
Cursing himself for not noticing it earlier, Obi-Wan scrambled across the bed to reach it. The door was concealed behind some shelving - designed to blend in with the rest of the interior. Now, upon closer examination, Obi-Wan realised that the books upon this particular bay were false. He studied the titles carefully; he was half way along when he stopped - his mouth twisting into a dreadful parody of a grin. 'A treatise on hidden cultures' Obi-Wan lifted the book out carefully, as he did so the rest of the books and shelving 'collapsed', the door hissed slightly, and then slid sideways. However his triumph was short lived...the door merely concealed a washroom.
With a frustrated cry Obi-Wan threw the book across the room, //Qui- Gon...Master *please* answer me!// He pushed his emotions along their link, desperate for any response...but only the empty echo of his own grief came back to him. Obi-Wan sank gracelessly to the floor, burying his face in his hands. Lost in his despair Obi-Wan didn't hear the door open and he jumped as someone dropped something onto the bed.
It was his captor, the man who had called himself Rigel.
Obi-Wan eyed the scavenger uneasily, hurriedly wiping away all traces of his tears. From his position on the floor Rigel appeared even larger than on their first encounter. Easily a head taller than Qui- Gon, and more broadly built, the Scavenger dwarfed Obi-Wan, making him feel like a child in comparison. Short, cropped dark hair, a neat beard shot through with silver. A trail of small silver hoops ran down one ear, two more were threaded through a heavy black brow - the one above the pale blue eye; the other eye scarred and sightless. Plain simple clothing - in similar shades of deep blue to those covering the bed. Rigel's arms were bare, and clearly indicated that none of the huge man's bulk came from fat.
The scavenger grinned savagely, staring down at Obi-Wan - who forced himself to meet the one-eyed gaze."You are filthy little one. Wash and put these on." The pirate waved a hand toward the clothes on the bed, before dropping heavily into the chair behind him."There is a shower unit through that door." Rigel smiled slyly, "As you have already discovered, my *clever* little one."
His expression guarded, Obi-Wan glanced at the fresh clothing. True his tunic was filthy - stained with blood, sweat and grime - but he balked at the thought of wearing anything provided by this man. Rigel seemed to read his thoughts, and a pale blue eye narrowed in warning. "Do not try my patience too soon little one."
Without the Force it was hard to gauge the depth of the scavenger's displeasure, and Obi-Wan was painfully aware that Qui-Gon's life undoubtedly rested upon his ability to please this man. Trying to control the trembling in his limbs he stood, gathering up the clothing. However, as he turned toward the shower room, Rigel leaned forward and grabbed his arm. "No." Obi-Wan froze, Rigel released him and sat back. "You will undress here." A protest died silently upon Obi-Wan's lips. Shaking, he dropped the clothing back onto the bed, and began to remove his tunic.
Clumsily, his fingers hampered by layers of fraying gauze, Obi-Wan slipped off his top. The room was warm, but he was unable to control the shivers which wracked his frame - only too conscious of Rigel's steady, unblinking gaze. He tried to recite a mediation drill in his head, but his mind was cloudy and confused. Bending to remove his boots his sight dimmed and he swayed dizzily.
Obi-Wan was only vaguely aware of a strong hand encircling his arm. Spots swam before his eyes...When they cleared he realised he was being held upright by the scavenger's powerful hands. The sensation of the man's warm skin against his own chilled flesh was almost as startling as the look of concern in that one pale blue eye. Suddenly panicked he tried to pull away.
"Easy little one." The scavenger's voice was a soft rumble. Obi-Wan could feel the man's breath *Too close...too close* Almost frantically he tried to wriggle free, but the huge hands were unbreakable bands around his arms. "Steady, steady". Obi-Wan felt himself being pulled back toward the bed, and a wave of mindless terror rushed over him.
"No!" Obi-Wan thrashed madly, desperate to break free, but still weak from his ordeal exhaustion quickly overcame his efforts, and he hung limply from the scavenger's grip. Rigel lifted his pliant body up onto the bed, and then released him.
Immediately Obi-Wan tried to scramble away, he heard Rigel laugh and felt powerful fingers grasp his ankle and drag him unceremoniously back. Obi-Wan lay panting, both arms pinned above his head by one large hand; Rigel lay beside him face alight with pleasure. As the scavenger trailed his free hand down Obi-Wan's bare torso, the youth bit his lip to hold back a whimper.
"Such fire you have little one!" Rigel's expression shifted as he continued to lazily stroke Obi-Wan's smooth skin."So lovely...so very lovely." Just as suddenly the scavenger's face cleared. The hand ceased its slow caresses, and caught hold of Obi-Wan's jaw. Staring at Obi-Wan, Rigel looked thoughtful. "You are sick?" Obi-Wan stared back, stubbornly silent. He had managed to master his fear again, and was determined not to show just how much this man's closeness disturbed him.
Rigel frowned in annoyance, his hold on Obi-Wan's jaw tightened cruelly. "I will ask once more. Are you sick?" The scavenger's voice was a deadly whisper, and Obi-Wan stiffened despite his attempt to hide his fear.
"No." His denial came out as a dry rasp.
Rigel looked unconvinced. "You have been unwell." It was a statement not a question, and Obi-Wan didn't bother to reply. "I will have Nezan look at you."
"No!" Obi-Wan didn't know who Nezan was, but he didn't want anyone examining him. He suddenly felt very tired. He closed his eyes, "P..please, no." - a soft broken whisper, but Obi-Wan no longer cared.
There was silence, and then his hands were released. Confused Obi- Wan opened his eyes, blinking groggily.
Rigel had sat up and was staring at him, the scavenger's expression unreadable. Then, as Obi-Wan watched, the huge man knelt and gently removed Obi-Wan's boots. Standing the scavenger extended a hand to Obi-Wan. The youth hesitated, then - ignoring the outstretched fingers - stood unaided. Obi-Wan risked a quick glance at his captor, but Rigel looked more amused than annoyed. However Obi-Wan drew in a sharp breath as the scavenger stepped closer and with one swift gesture undid the tie at his waist.
Warm calloused fingers circled his hips. Obi-Wan's breath hitched as the thumbs hooked into his leggings. Never once taking his eyes away from Obi-Wan's, Rigel slid them down in one swift movement, dropping to a crouch as he did so. Obi-Wan wavered as he felt the scavenger's warm breath against his groin. Still unsteady, he instinctively touched the man's shoulders for support as he stepped out of the last of his clothing. Though the instant he realised what he had done he pulled his fingers back as though scalded.
Rigel stood up, Obi-Wan forced himself to stand straight - determined to show no shame in the face of his own nakedness. His captor smiled, almost indulgently - reaching for Obi-Wan's right hand. The youth flinched away, and then reluctantly allowed Rigel to take it.
Carefully the scavenger unwound the gauze bandaging, his large fingers surprisingly gentle. The skin beneath was freshly pink - Force healed, and free from burns or scarring. One black brow arched a little, as Rigel examined it. Then the scavenger lowered Obi-Wan's right hand, and repeated the process with the youth's left.
Rigel rubbed his thumb across the fleshy part of Obi-Wan's bared palm. Obi-Wan shivered as the sensitive new skin responded to the stimulus. Rigel smiled and released him. "Wash little one." Standing to the side the scavenger swept his arm out in a dramatic flourish toward the wash room. "Go." Obi-Wan stumbled forward a little, hesitated and then squaring his shoulders marched forward. Struggling to close his ears to the sound of Rigel's mocking laughter.
There was no way to close the door, and anyway Obi-Wan was quite certain it would not be permitted. Stepping into the shower stall he tried to ignore the sight of Rigel slouched against the door-frame. Seizing a wash rag and the bar of soap he stabbed at the controls viciously, and turned his face toward the spray as the hot water gushed over his body. He didn't hear Rigel's sudden gasp, or the way the scavenger shifted uncomfortably before retreating back to the bed.
Chapter II
Rigel sat, one pale blue orb fixed intently upon the lissom form beneath the hot spray; his throat tightening as he tracked the soapy rivulets trickling down sleek honey-gold skin. The youth turned slightly, unwittingly displaying a well toned torso - flushed pink nipples standing proud against the smooth curve of pectoral muscles. Staring raptly at the taut, flat stomach, the scavenger stifled a moan; clenching his fists until his knuckles turned white.
From the moment the youth had been carried aboard the Black Narcissus, Rigel had ached to possess him. A longing which became an intense, unbearable craving when the boy awoke. *Those eyes...He had never seen such eyes* Pure...clear...untainted. Burning with a radiance which had branded itself into his every fantasy.
Rigel's tastes usually ran to much younger flesh, but there was an indefinable aura about this young man, not innocence exactly - more an 'untouchable' quality - which was impossible to resist. This was no cringing slave or sluttish drab; the youth's husky voice held cultured tones.
Rigel avoided the Republic, the furthest he ever strayed into their territory was Tatooine to do business with the Hutts. However stories of the Jedi had travelled far beyond the outer rim - mystical warriors with sorcerers powers. Superstitions and folklore, but enough to inspire fear and mistrust amongst Rigel's crew. Once the lightsabers had been discovered most were for killing the Jedi.
Rigel hadn't bothered to hide his contempt -*Superstitious fools* He knew of the Jedi Order, and their precious Code. He knew that severed from the Force these were just men, as helpless and powerless as any other slave.
The sight of the Padawan braid had excited him *A Jedi apprentice*. Defiling such legendary 'incorruptible' flesh promised to satisfy his darkest, most intense fantasies.
He exhaled deeply - *Patience..patience...* - If he could bend that spirit without breaking it, temper the boy's will to his own...*Oh what pleasure then...*
It would be an easy task to drug the young man into submission, but to deaden those incredible eyes? - *No...Never!*. Rigel's thoughts turned to the older Jedi - a 'bargaining piece' perhaps? Another heartbeat and the scavenger's expression turned cold again. What if the youth *still* failed to yield? A moments desperation...then Rigel's mouth twisted into a sly smile, his imagination stirring - Well then he would simply have to take the youth by force. After all, there were still pleasures to be had from such.
Suddenly the youth swayed, leaning into the tiles unsteadily. Rigel was on his feet in an instant, crossing the space between them in three swift strides. Reaching into the shower stall he turned off the water just as the youth collapsed against him. Water slick skin slipped through his fingers, as the youth slid bonelessly to the floor. Rigel went down with him, cushioning the young man's naked body against his own.
They lay in a sprawl of tangled limbs. Rigel swallowed hard - scarcely conscious of the water seeping into his clothing - feeling only the warm wet body cradled in his arms. He inhaled deeply, drawing in the sweet, clean scent of young skin. Carefully, Rigel eased his burden into a more secure hold, and then stood carefully. The youth murmured softly, but remained quiescent in his arms.
Rigel walked forward slowly, and gently lay the youth upon the bed. "Wha...Qui-Gon?". The softly whispered confusion cut into Rigel like a knife. Long golden lashes fluttered open, and the scavenger felt a sharp stab of jealousy - gazing into pellucid eyes painted with fearful recognition.
The young man quickly masked his fear, but clearly conscious of his nudity tried to squirm away. Rigel stayed the youth easily - curling long fingers around the curve of one bare shoulder. The scavenger dug his nails deeply into the pale flesh until the youth hissed sharply. Rigel smiled, and loosened his hold; fingers caressing the marks left in the soft, smooth skin. "You fainted little one."
The youth raised his chin defiantly "Don't call me that!"
Rigel's smile vanished, his hand swiftly encircling the slender throat. The young man flinched as Rigel tightened his hold, squeezing *oh...so slowly*, enjoying the spiralling distress in those incredible gray-green eyes. Lowering his head Rigel let his lips brush against the young man's forehead; his tongue flickering out to taste the drops of water dripping from soft red-gold spikes.
The young man gave a dull moan.
Rigel rubbed his cheek against the damp skin, and felt the body beneath him tremble slightly. Smiling, Rigel removed his hand and drew back a little until his face was level with the youth's. "What is your name then little one?" Rigel lowered his head again, his lips almost touching the trembling boy's - tasting the sweetness of his breath. "Tell me." A soft whispered caress. Rigel's smile widened as he the young man's breath hitched.
"O..Obi...Wan."
"Obi-Wan." Rigel let the name slide over his tongue. "Oh *yess*. It suits you well little one...My Obi-Wan," Rigel's voice grew cold, "and you are *mine* now. You would do well to remember that."
Reluctantly Rigel sat back. "I will have Nezan look at you later, but first we will eat. Now can you dress yourself?" his gaze slid lasciviously over Obi-Wan's naked form. "Or shall I help you?"
"I...I can do it." The voice was shaky, but there was no mistaking the bitter hostility behind the words.
Rigel stood, handing the youth a sleeveless tunic top and simple trousers. Cut from a shimmering emerald green cloth, the outfit moulded itself perfectly to the young man's body.
"Exquisite." Rigel let his eyes linger a moment longer, before reaching for the young man's hand. There was a dangerous pause as Obi-Wan stared at him - and then slowly, defiantly - placed his arms behind his back. Rigel's mouth thinned, tightening in displeasure. He grabbed one arm roughly, dragging the youth off his feet. "Do not provoke me little one." Breathing heavily, Rigel set the youth down again. Obi-Wan had paled, skin taking on a sickly greyish tinge. Frowning, Rigel took hold of the young man's hand, capturing the icy fingers within his own. "Come. We will eat." The youth didn't resist as Rigel gently tugged him forward.
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