Master Apprentice
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(continued from part 10)
"Obi-Wan," Mekall cautioned as the door swung shut behind the Jedi, "that was not smart. You're going to have to talk to him."
"Not tonight," Obi-Wan said. "I can't. Please don't leave me alone with him tonight. Okay?"
Mekall was going to argue. Obi-Wan prevented it with a hard, intense kiss, soundly plundering his mouth. At the same time, he lessened the shielding he had kept between them all day. Mekall was hit with a powerful wave of desire that sparked a lust-induced meltdown of his cognitive abilities. "Okay," Mekall panted, his reason falling victim to his need.
"We'll eat," Obi-Wan explained in between feeding on Mekall's lips, "I'll get some more sleep, it'll be . . ."
"It'll be?" Mekall breathed into him.
"Tomorrow."
That sounded perfectly rational to Mekall. He deepened their kiss, though what he really wanted was to crawl inside Obi-Wan's skin. He mouthed the flesh of Obi-Wan's neck while he took off his tunics, sucking on his jugular as if to extract blood. He walked Obi-Wan backward until they hit wall.
Wary of Mekall's effort to mark him, Obi-Wan crushed Mekall's head to his chest. Mekall dragged Obi-Wan's leggings and underwear over his hips in one gesture and sank down to his penis. Mekall's craving fed on itself until it was uncontainable. Having Obi-Wan in his mouth was not enough. He spun Obi-Wan to the wall. Out of the corner of his eye as he turned, Obi-Wan saw the dish soap fly across the room and into Mekall's outstretched hand.
Mekall quickly lubricated them both and entered him with enough force to compress Obi-Wan's cheek against the wall. One of his hands left Obi-Wan's hip to grab his knight's tail, twisting his head for a frenzied kiss. Then both his hands went to Obi-Wan's hips again, repositioning him slightly. Obi-Wan's cock swelled as Mekall pistoned into him, finding his prostate like a seeker, repeating his success until the stars before Obi-Wan's eyes threatened his consciousness. Mekall kept his own passion quiet and slipped his hand over Obi-Wan's mouth to muffle his cries of pleasure, mindful even in his arousal, that Obi-Wan's master was only a swinging door away.
Once both men had recovered sufficiently, nightmeal was made and served. Qui-Gon ate it in near total silence, simmering, his eyes traveling from Mekall to Obi-Wan to the mark Obi-Wan had not succeeded in keeping from his throat.
When they had all made enough of the pretense of eating, Qui-Gon restated his request that Obi-Wan speak with him and escorted his padawan into the common area.
Mekall wondered how he had gotten stuck with the dishes again but did not object to the time it gave him to clear his head. What the hells had that been? He was willing to act as a buffer between Obi-Wan and his master, if that was what Obi-Wan needed, but Obi-Wan manipulating their bond to put him in . . .
What?
Bloodlust, truly.
Stand between them? I would've killed Jinn if he'd asked me to.
"I missed you this morning, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon began, forgoing, for the moment, the lecture he wanted to give on propriety - and food handling. Ancillary issues, in the greater scheme of things.
Obi-Wan had the decency to look conscience-stricken before saying, "We were up and out quite early. I had trouble getting back to sleep."
"Did you have another nightmare?"
"No, not another nightmare. Just unsettled. I think it's the transition. Being back."
"That may well be. Have you meditated on it?"
"I visited the Jade Grove after my workout."
"Good," Qui-Gon smiled. "I know you find it peaceful there." As he picked up the folder he had been reading from earlier, he noticed Obi-Wan look toward the kitchen.
Long enough, Mekall, Obi-Wan projected. You can come in now.
"How did your meeting with the Diplomatic Sub-Council go?" Qui-Gon asked. He had not contacted the Sub-Council for a report. He expected Obi-Wan would tell him everything, as he always had.
Obi-Wan looked back to his master, drawing and releasing a breath before saying, "They were extremely thorough. I sensed they would have liked to know more, but I was Forcebound and blindfolded most of the time I was conscious and have recollection of. I could only tell them what I heard and felt."
"I should think that would be enough to satisfy them," Qui-Gon commented, far from satisfied himself with such a terse overview.
"That was not the impression I got," Obi-Wan disagreed, "but there was little more I could tell them. After I was removed from Kiradian, I was not cognizant of my surroundings for some time."
"So you said," Qui-Gon reminded him as he scanned Obi-Wan's face for a reaction to the inquiry or the abduction. There was nothing. Less than.
If Obi-Wan continued to be this taciturn, he would have no choice but to go to the DSC directly. He would rather not, as it would reflect negatively on Obi-Wan whose eyes again drifted toward the kitchen.
Mekall. What are you doing? Obi-Wan concentrated on keeping his face shuttered and his thoughts his own but his eyes betrayed him as they worked on staring a hole through the kitchen door.
He'll be out soon, Obi-Wan thought. I know he'll be out soon. He said he would. He said he wouldn't leave me . . . alone . . . with . . .
Uncertain as to the wisdom of doing so, Qui-Gon went on. "I met with the Missions Oversight Committee this afternoon. They've given us an assignment."
Just answer the questions, Obi-Wan's inner voice coached. Hold him off for a little longer. Just a little longer. Questions need answers. Straightforward questions need only get straightforward answers. Nothing more. He doesn't know. He doesn't. Mekall'll be here in a minute. Once he is, there'll be an excuse to - Did he say something?
Qui-Gon waited until Obi-Wan's attention came back to him to resume.
"An assignment?" Obi-Wan asked aloud, belatedly hearing what Qui-Gon had said.
"We are to translate a cache of scrolls that has been unearthed at an archaeological dig on Arcan 3. There is a long-standing dispute there between the farming clans and the hunter-gatherers. It is ruled over by a monarchy; the royal family do what they can to maintain an unstable peace.
"The language of the scrolls has been dead for generations, even to the nobility, but some segments have been roughly translated and those appear to cast doubt upon the right of the noble family to rule. Without them, chances are the planet would rapidly devolve into all-out civil war. It is believed the rumors of doubt were started by a group of anti-monarchists trying to stir the seeds of dissent in order to undermine the government.
"A Jedi team has been dispatched to mediate between the factions. All sides have agreed to accept our interpretations of these writings as an independent third party. The mediating team will remain in place to assist in keeping the peace while the true meaning of these treatises is ascertained, but the situation is volatile. We must translate the documents and report to the Council as soon as possible.
"Are you prepared to go back to work?" Qui-Gon completed his recitation. "Yes, Master. I'm ready. I know I haven't been myself," Obi-Wan answered, fingering his neck.
"You don't seem yourself for many reasons, Obi-Wan. If there is trouble between you and Mekall, I would welcome the chance to help," Qui-Gon attempted to draw him out. "I know that fulfilling the needs of a new bond can be a daunting affair, even under the best of circumstances."
"The bond is fine, Master." Where the hells was Mekall?
"I wish you would let . . . " Qui-Gon edited himself, "would endeavor to share your true feelings with me, so that you might come to accept them more readily and release the quite natural apprehensions and anger which I sense -"
"I am trying, Master."
"I'm sorry to say I don't see much evidence of it. I would like to understand. Can you explain why you continue to maintain such heavy shielding between us?"
"It's . . . I am trying. It's . . . difficult to . . . I can't quite . . . I am beginning to, but it's . . . I . . ." Mekall, I need you. I need you to get in here.
Only Qui-Gon's long years of diplomacy kept his face from showing his dismay as Obi-Wan struggled for words while his eyes strayed to the kitchen door. What was that man doing to him? A soul bond was one thing, this type of incursion was quite another.
Qui-Gon extended his feelings, once more attempting to pierce Obi-Wan's facade. It was all but impossible. His presence was distinctly subdued within the Force.
Mekall's, however, rang out clear as day. Inexplicably, he felt no influence or coercion coming from him. It was the opposite. Obi-Wan's mounting tension was seeking a conduit in Mekall; Obi-Wan was striving to bring Mekall to his side.
Mekall found himself hurrying through the clearing up, compelled to get out to the common room to save Obi-Wan from his master. A step away from the sink, he realized what he was doing.
Absolutely not.
He turned back to the basin. He put down the dish brush and set his hands flat on the counter. He spread his fingers apart slowly and drew them back together, investing all his concentration in the action, intent on regaining control.
Obi-Wan is not afraid of Mekall, he is afraid of me, Qui-Gon realized. He's trying to use Mekall to protect himself from me. He was stunned beyond words momentarily. What he had felt would have been inconceivable were it not happening.
"I'm sure he'll be out shortly," Qui-Gon finally managed to say.
"I . . . Yes, Master." Color flooded Obi-Wan's cheeks as his eyes met Qui-Gon's. He had seen. Of course he had seen. Who did I think I was dealing with? I have got to get out of here.
Qui-Gon sensed Mekall's anxious rescue impulse change to a staunch resolution to stand his ground.
Obi-Wan," he began again slowly, hoping to give Mekall the chance to resist Obi-Wan by bringing Obi-Wan's attention back to himself. But how to address what he had discerned without causing Obi-Wan even more alarm? "I know it is only your second day back and athat you are having difficulty."
"I'm not having . . . That is, that's not the -"
"I am more than willing to meditate with you or to assist in any way I can. To work on integrating the requirements of the soul bond with those of the Master-Apprentice bond or -"
"Yes, Master."
Qui-Gon shook his head. "Obi-Wan this isn't an order. I want to guide you, but I cannot unless I know what you . . . what you're feeling. I can see you're struggling. The trouble you're having acclimatizing could easily be remedied with -" "It isn't - I don't . . . I find I . . . need more time."
"Time is passing, Obi-Wan. There are other considerations."
"Yes, I know. It's only that I . . . I can't . . . " I can't even complete a sentence. I can't do this. Mekall, please. Please get me out of here now.
"The soul bond has its requirements. Our bond has as well. It has been all but dormant for too long. We must reconnect in order to sustain your apprenticeship bond," Qui-Gon pressed. "You do wish to continue our student-teacher relationship?"
Mekall.
He had thought to shock Obi-Wan into coherence; he was shocked himself when Obi-Wan did not respond.
"Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon attempted to pull him out of his unresponsive state.
Please. Now. Come out now.
"Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon's voice raised a notch.
"Yes?" Obi-Wan sounded as if he had lost the thread of their conversation in the few seconds which had passed.
"Did you hear me?"
Obi-Wan's eyes were fixed on the kitchen door.
"Obi-Wan, what in the heavens' name is happening to you?"
Now. Now . . now . . nownownow -
"Did you hear my question?"
Now! "Master?"
"Do you want to remain my padawan?"
Obi-Wan looked aghast. He had finally heard him. "Yes - I - it is not that."
"Then what is it, Padawan? What is it?"
"What is what?" Mekall asked as he came in from the kitchen, drying his hands on a small towel. He looked deeply conflicted. Obi-Wan looked equally relieved.
Qui-Gon, who had been craning forward in his seat, sat back. Obi-Wan sat forward, appearing ready to bolt the premises.
"We've been given an assignment," Obi-Wan explained. "Translating texts needed in the mediation of a civil dispute."
"Will you be traveling?" Mekall asked, although he knew better.
"No, it's a research assignment here at the Temple," Obi-Wan answered.
"Sounds fascinating," Mekall observed.
How fortunate this is not adversely affecting his sarcasm, Qui-Gon thought. He had to broach what had happened. Having gotten nowhere with Obi-Wan, he tried Mekall.
"Mekall, I was -"
"No offense intended," Mekall interrupted immediately.
No, of course not, Qui-Gon nearly said out loud. "None taken," he substituted. "I was hoping we could talk about -"
"Have I missed anything else?" Mekall added. "Couldn't hear over the water. Leave it to the Temple not to supply you with a sani-unit. Washing dishes by hand builds character, I suppose, and gives you time to ponder the state of the cosmos. You look tired," Mekall directed at Obi-Wan, going to his side.
Qui-Gon looked at him in disbelief. What a time to make small talk. If the man was unwilling to accept his help, he could not force it upon him. He addressed himself to Obi-Wan again instead.
"You did not answer my question," he asserted.
Obi-Wan looked from Mekall to Qui-Gon and back, stymied as to whom to answer.
"Master, I - Of, of course I want to . . . I want the . . ." he began. He was speaking to Qui-Gon, but he was looking at Mekall. "I haven't . . . I mean, I only, I need . . ." Obi-Wan's eyes flicking to Qui-Gon, then his own feet.
Qui-Gon's heart ached for Obi-Wan. What could possibly be afflicting him to make him act in such a manner? The soul bond was in dire flux yet Mekall remained intractable. All Obi-Wan could do - outside of his unsettling display of Force use - was stammer and blush.
Brinksmanship was not the answer. Qui-Gon needed time to think, to reconfigure how to proceed. Neither man sitting across from him was in any condition for serious discussion anyway. He took a deep breath, releasing every scintilla of emotion he could into the Force. "Calm yourself, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon counseled, his outward appearance now placid. "I don't wish to cause you distress. I merely wanted to talk, about what has happened and what is happening to you now.
"The Council has adjudged that you are ready to return to work. In the morning we must see to our duty. I need a direct answer. Will you be able to conduct yourself in a manner commensurate with your status and carry out this assignment?"
Qui-Gon's change in tactic brought Obi-Wan sharply back into focus. He could suddenly see himself through Qui-Gon's eyes and it was not an attractive picture. If he continued to act this way, it would be a quick route to the healers and that was the last thing he wanted. Reviving his shredded composure, Obi-Wan straightened his back and adjusted his shoulders beneath a robe he was not wearing.
"Yes, Master," he said clearly and impassively. "I do want to remain your padawan and I am ready to resume my duties. I won't allow our performance to be affected by my personal problems."
Even now, Qui-Gon found himself able to take pride in Obi-Wan's ability to restore himself. His core remained whole. Anything else was reparable given time and care.
Although he felt used by Obi-Wan, Mekall sat down next to him as a show of support. Obi-Wan did not notice it. Despite his calm words, he was staring at his master with an odd combination of hurt, apprehension and resolve. He had left their link open; Mekall could feel Obi-Wan's stomach tying in knots. That he could believe. What he could not believe was what had occurred.
Jinn had put on the Jedi cloak of calm and backed down. Obi-Wan - who still looked stretched within a measure of breaking to Mekall - had been all too willing to do the same. Now they sat facing one another for all intents and purposes emotionless. He hated them for it and it for them. "Very well," Qui-Gon accepted Obi-Wan's response. Some strain still showed on Obi-Wan, but Qui-Gon attributed it to his battle to control himself.
"I am here for you, Obi-Wan, but I am not psychic. You must open yourself to the Force to recover. It is time to lower your shields and get whatever counseling you require. If not from me, than from whomever you are comfortable speaking with. If you do not . . . It would be preferable if I were not forced to complete that statement. Neither of us benefits from such an edict."
Qui-Gon excused himself and withdrew to his room.
Obi-Wan was ready to collapse when they got into the bedroom, but his anxiety level remained high. He sat on the bed, then got up, sat and stood again.
Nowhere left to go, Mekall thought. Can't retreat. Won't advance. Me in here. Jinn out there.
"Obi-Wan, sit down," Mekall suggested.
"What?" Obi-Wan asked, frazzled.
"Sit down," Mekall repeated.
"What?"
"Sit. Down." Mekall put some Force behind it.
Obi-Wan sat.
"Look at me," Mekall requested without any outside aid.
Obi-Wan did.
"What happened out there? What was that?"
"I don't know," Obi-Wan admitted defeatedly. "I don't . . . I can barely look at him, much less tell him. I acted like a fool. I can't imagine what he must think."
That was not what Mekall meant, but they could deal with one travesty at a time. Mekall held out his hand. Obi-Wan got up to accept it.
"He thinks you're in a lot of pain. No Force genius there. He wants to help you but you won't let him and that makes him think we're up to something, or I am. He misses you."
"When did you become an expert on Qui-Gon Jinn?"
"It's what I would think, if you were my padawan."
Obi-Wan smiled a little.
"Something funny?" Mekall asked.
"I'm trying to imagine you with a padawan."
Mekall had to smile as well. "Poor little bugger."
Obi-Wan gave a short laugh and sat down on the bed facing Mekall. "What am I going to do?"
"What do you want to do?"
That seemed to stump him.
"Obi-Wan?" Mekall prodded.
"I can't tell," Obi-Wan replied. "I thought I . . . knew. I'm lying to him . . . and to you. I'm sorry about the . . . about out there. The kit -"
"Don't. Don't apologize, but don't do that to me again. Ever."
"I didn't mean to. I . . . panicked or something." Obi-Wan traced his finger nail lightly along a scar above Mekall's collarbone. "It's -"
"Over. Look at me and tell me that will never happen again."
"It won't happen again if I can help it," Obi-Wan said. "I'd sooner see us apart than hurt you."
Mekall took Obi-Wan's face in his hand, searching for obfuscation. He found none in his eyes. He kissed Obi-Wan deeply and felt a responding fluctuation in their bond.
"No more," Obi-Wan said as Mekall's lips moved to his throat.
"Nn," Mekall hummed into Obi-Wan's neck. "Undoing damage done," he explained with a lick to where there was no longer a love bite.
"At least some of tonight's harm is reversible," Obi-Wan declared with a sigh.
"Let's go to sleep," Mekall suggested.
"I have to do one thing," Obi-Wan told him.
He went to the door, opened it, peered out to check for his master and, finding the coast clear, went to use the com.
Later, Mekall lay on the bed, covered by nothing but a strategically placed Obi-Wan who was curled onto him, breathing evenly.
At least Obi-Wan was getting some solid sleep.
Mekall drew on his cheroot and studied the ceiling, again unable to sleep himself.
It thrilled him and terrified him that someone could have such power over him at this point in his life. That it should be this man in this place . . .
He skimmed his hand over Obi-Wan's hip. Obi-Wan snuggled in even closer.
Mekall heard the outer door open and close.
What would Jinn do? How close to the end of his tether did he have to be to threaten Obi-Wan like that? And to do it in front of me?
A small green conscience awaited Qui-Gon on a low bench by the Transvering Brook.
Master Yoda's ears were at half-mast.
"Troubled, you are," Yoda said, gesturing his gimer stick toward the space beside him.
Qui-Gon seated himself next to the ancient master with a methodical slowness born of emotional wear. After the fiasco with Obi-Wan, he had tried to meditate in his quarters only to end up pacing shorter and shorter circuits of his room as it shrank beneath his lengthening strides. So much of what he thought he knew about his padawan had been cast to the four winds since Obi-Wan's homecoming. In beginning to understand what had gone on tonight, Qui-Gon had at last started to internalize the fact that the Obi-Wan he was looking at was not the Obi-Wan he had known six weeks before; he might never be again.
My Obi-Wan, he thought, would never have -
Whose Obi-Wan, Master Jinn? he amended.
"Yes. Much turmoil I sensed," Yoda commented. "Obi-Wan has been . . . disturbed since his return," Qui-Gon confirmed. "I've endeavored to discover the source of it. He has repeatedly rebuffed me. I thought this was due to interference from his bondmate. Tonight I found out otherwise."
Yoda closed his eyes as he accessed the currents of the Force. "Unusual Obi-Wan's behavior is. Much confusion I sense. Becloud matters the soul bond does, but the true problem it is not. Recover he cannot, until the darkness he has encountered is exposed to the light. Freed from his doubts he must be, before that risk he will take."
"How can I make my support for him any clearer?" Qui-Gon asked. "I have made myself available, offered to talk, to meditate with him. He will not."
Yoda opened his eyes to answer.
"Examine your motives you must. When your thoughts are without anger, without recrimination, without remorse, then you will know."
"Yes, Master," Qui-Gon assented, then, as Yoda was evidently finished, Qui-Gon rose and bowed, preparing to leave.
Yoda's large eyes assessed him critically. "Search your feelings, Qui-Gon. Obi-Wan's master you must not mistake for Obi-Wan's bondmate. Love you Obi-Wan does. Need you he does. A place for you in his heart there will always be. What is the place for him in yours now?"
Qui-Gon knew better than to discount Yoda's questions, but it was hard to imagine. Could Obi-Wan's soul bonding have had that effect on him?
Was he angry with Obi-Wan? Consciously he had not let himself be, but tonight as they ate, as he glared at Obi-Wan and at Mekall and at that thing on Obi-Wan's neck, as Obi-Wan avoided meeting his eyes . . . Angry? He had been furious.
Qui-Gon walked away from Yoda, his feet leading him unerringly, despite his preoccupation, to the center of gardens, deep into their nexus of the Living Force.
If he was angry, it was as much a product of dissatisfaction with himself as anything. He had meditated long and hard to maintain equilibrium after Obi-Wan's disappearance on Kiradian. Unable to relinquish the feeling that he had let his padawan slip away, he had led the search for Obi-Wan, using the Sector's police as little more than an excuse for all but turning the capital city upside down.
Had there been more time, Qui-Gon would have torn the planet apart piece by piece to recover his apprentice. That he had not been the one to have been taken plagued him. It was made worse when the captured insurrectionist revealed they had planned to abduct both master and padawan but had run out of time, of all things. They had taken Obi-Wan because he was smaller and lighter and hastened their ability to fall back. That tore at Qui-Gon now, when he thought how close his rescue attempt had come. At the time, however, Qui-Gon's contemplations had served him; ire and despair had given way to serenity and hope. He had been able to turn the search over and resume his duties.
The contact with Obi-Wan while he was in space had been a gift from the Force itself. The unbridled happiness Qui-Gon had experienced then was multiplied tenfold when Obi-Wan walked through their quarter's door three nights ago, but that had been brief, dampened when Mekall walked in on them.
Qui-Gon's breath caught in his chest.
Mekall.
He was on his feet before he was aware of the impulse to rise. Pacing again, he chided himself for his lack of control. However, it was better to accept it than to fight it, so he stayed on his feet.
If pacing is the only way to navigate this terrain, he decided, I will pace. Now, where was I?
Yes . . . Mekall.
For two days and nights he had been in limbo, acting out a role, concentrating on the minutiae of Obi-Wan's reintegration. In retrospect, Obi-Wan's assiduous attempt at normalcy in the midst of the decidedly abnormal should have alerted him. Instead, he had been caught unawares when Obi-Wan had told him of the bond. So antithetical was Obi-Wan's declaration to any version of their future Qui-Gon had ever imagined, he had called upon a facet of himself too long-trained in diplomacy to display shock. He had gone into crisis mode, letting his intellect take over, addressing only Obi-Wan's state, the sparse but telling details of Obi-Wan's missing weeks and the existence of Mekall. Since then, with Obi-Wan acting so unlike himself - or what Qui-Gon thought of as unlike himself - everything had been reduced to procedure and negotiation.
Qui-Gon had meditated, of course, but almost none of it had been directed inward. He had not allowed himself to feel. Now he must summon the fortitude to face all that he had been denying.
He was angry, he was hurt and he was jealous.
Obi-Wan was soul bonded. Obi-Wan. Was. Soul bonded. The words, the concept, the reality of it had not truly registered. Even now, the full scope of it was only beginning to sink in.
Left to his own devices, Obi-Wan . . . Obi-Wan had turned his back on him and soul bonded. There. He had acknowledged it. Absurd, ugly, petty as it was. Obi-Wan had turned his back on him when he bonded with that . . . that . . .
Man. _The_ man. Troubled and troubling, struggling and challenging, and the one the Force had picked out of all the galaxy. Obi-Wan loved Mekall; Mekall clearly loved Obi-Wan. There was no other explanation for a man of his . . . proclivities putting up with what he was putting up with. If there was a point to any of this, Mekall may well have been it. Qui-Gon had been trying to reclaim him, attempting to live in the past. He had felt excluded from Obi-Wan's life at the same time he was excluded from his mind, while Mekall had the access he was denied. He had been reacting to Mekall as though he were a rival.
Qui-Gon found his edginess abating. He returned to where he had begun, able to again sit down to meditate.
Leave it to Yoda to ascertain exactly what was bedeviling him. Occasionally he still wondered if his master's master knew him better than he knew himself.
He had not lost Obi-Wan. He still had his padawan. Time might return his friend and confidant, but he had lost the immeasurable. He had thought the depth of their master-apprentice bond was an indicator of a stronger bond to be. He had waited, as he knew he must, for Obi-Wan to come of age and gain experience. Obi-Wan had become his own man and had only to achieve his knighthood. The time when Qui-Gon might have revealed all had been close, almost within reach. Now that was dust, his vision of being with and loving Obi-Wan for a lifetime. How could what he had known for so many years simply be wrong, be gone? It was that future he would mourn this night.
Yet Obi-Wan was not dead, thank the Force, only Qui-Gon's idea of one aspect of what Obi-Wan might have been. There was so much more to Obi-Wan: able diplomat, talented negotiator, patient teacher, skilled and agile fighter. He was a fiercely intelligent man, deeply moral, clear in the ways of the Force, a little short tempered occasionally, but caring and kind, funny and charming, as self-possessed as anyone Qui-Gon had ever known.
Not now. In his current state all of that was imperiled. Obi-Wan was collapsing under the strain he was placing on himself.
Qui-Gon had not been able to break through the shell of denial his padawan was constructing. Much as he would not force his help on Mekall, he had been unwilling to push Obi-Wan until he was ready to ask for help. In reality, it was up to him to see that Obi-Wan became so. He had been coddling him, overcompensating, so thankful to have Obi-Wan back he would have put up with anything. That was not how one dealt with one's padawan.
Reluctant to assert himself within the new context, he had left reconnecting up to Obi-Wan. He would not do that any longer. He was still Obi-Wan's master. He must reinforce that. He had made a start tonight. He would have to confront Obi-Wan again.
If Obi-Wan was to be saved, they would all have to come together to achieve it, but on Qui-Gon's terms, not Obi-Wan's, not Mekall's. Obi-Wan would not be anyone's if he did not begin to cope with his difficulties. Obi-Wan said he wanted to remain Qui-Gon's apprentice; Qui-Gon intended to take him up on that. Mekall would have to accept it. And he would have to accept Mekall, warts and all. It was that simple. And that profound.
Qui-Gon had spent most of the night in meditation, but he made sure he got back to their apartment before Obi-Wan had another chance to elude him.
Obi-Wan rose exceptionally early, even judged against his recent standard.
"Sleep okay?" Mekall asked, after letting Obi-Wan contend with dressing in the dark for a few minutes. He owed him or the fake wake comment.
"You'd know better than I. You were the one watching me half the night," Obi-Wan replied sourly, the tone of the comment surprising even him. Where did that come from?
"Fine," Mekall declared, pulling the blanket up and turning his back on his bondmate.
Obi-Wan approached the bed. "I didn't mean that. I mean - That came out angrier than I thought I . . . thought it."
Mekall turned over to look at him. "Pardon?"
"I didn't mean to sound so - I'm not m - I don't . . . I mean I didn't mean to be - I hadn't meant -" The more he spoke, the less he was saying and Mekall was watching him too intently. "Never mind. I slept all right. Did you?"
"Yeah, just like regular people."
"I wouldn't go that far," Obi-Wan quipped.
Mekall smiled.
"I have to leave," Obi-Wan told him. "Before . . ."
"Sure. Want me to come with you?" Mekall offered.
"Oh, that would look fine," Obi-Wan said, sitting down. "Pay no mind to Mekall. He'll be coming along today to hold my hand and keep the monsters at bay."
Mekall scrutinized Obi-Wan's face, not hiding his interest in Obi-Wan's mentioning that there were monsters. "I don't care what they think," he said.
"Well established," Obi-Wan replied with a small smile. "Nevertheless -"
"You have a point," Mekall admitted. Wrapping Obi-Wan's hand in his, he moved in for a kiss. He was reluctant to let him go; he felt danger was closing in on him. "If you want to . . . talk or . . . whatever, com me, okay?"
"I'll call you later," Obi-Wan promised, torn between his desire to be out of the rooms before Qui-Gon awoke and the urge to stay in Mekall's arms. "Go back to sleep," he suggested. Slipping his hand free of Mekall's, Obi-Wan got off the bed. "At least one of us will be coherent today."
"I wouldn't go that far." Mekall meant to echo Obi-Wan's joking tone, but it sounded more like a plea. Obi-Wan's smile was equally uncertain. He picked up his utility belt glad to have somewhere else to look and concentrated his attention on buckling it on as he left the room. Mekall watched him go, worry nagging at the corner of his mouth.
Qui-Gon was sitting in the common room, reading. Obi-Wan had anticipated avoiding him, but as a result of a good night's sleep, he was able to cover his apprehension. He also had a contingency plan. "Good morning, Master," Obi-Wan greeted him, as if getting up hours before dawn was the most natural thing in the universe.
"It is not morning yet, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon pointed out. "Are you feeling better?"
"Yes. I slept. I am sorry about last night, Master. I was wrong to -"
"It's not a matter of right or wrong. We're all feeling our way in this. I owe you an apology as well. I was presumptuous." "Not at all, Master. I didn't think that. I find, with the newness of the bond, there are . . . shifts in my control over my emotions."
"That is to be expected, Obi-Wan, though I continue to have concerns."
"Which are understandable, Master. As soon as we've completed this assignment -"
"There will most likely be another. You must take care of yourself, Obi-Wan. The psych healers should be able to help you do so."
"I'm sure they will."
"You didn't see them, did you?"
Obi-Wan smiled slightly, caught out but seemingly glad of it. "Not as yet, Master."
"Perhaps this morning."
"I doubt there'll be time today. I'm late already."
"At this hour?"
"I have an appointment."
Qui-Gon experienced a brief and unprecedented feeling Obi-Wan was lying to him. "Obi-Wan, it's not yet five."
"I'm meeting Henet Ga'uun. He's going to help me begin my work on Arcan 3."
Ga'uun was from Darvon. The Darvinians were a nocturnal people. He oversaw the Temple archives after dark, for other Jedi of the same circadian bent.
Was Obi-Wan trying to forestall further discussion between them? Qui-Gon wondered. Or was he simply ready to get to work?
"He agreed to meet me to discuss some of the fine points of deciphering Arcian, the quondam Arcan language," Obi-Wan added as if he knew what Qui-Gon was thinking. "We're going to share firstmeal. Won't you join us?"
There was little for Qui-Gon to do but accept.
(continued in part 12)