By the time they caught their breath, the sun had risen high
and the day was heating up. They lay on the stone flags,
covered in his robe, his apprentice's head pillowed on his
shoulder.
It was Obi Wan who broke the silence.
"Everyone thinks that Elspeth is the murderer, don't they?" His
words were soft and thoughtful. The older man was relieved to
hear much of the crushing pain gone from his Padawan's voice.
"Yes. Do you disagree? She attacked you. She is clearly not
....well." He could still see her lifting her
lightsaber....bringing it down on his apprentice. It had been
all he could do to simply tear the weapon from her grip instead
of flinging her bodily against a wall.
Obi Wan swallowed and though Qui Gon couldn't see his face, he
could sense the frown.
"I don't know. It doesn't make any sense to me." He fell silent
again, and Qui Gon could fairly hear the gears turning in that
young head. "Master," Obi Wan said suddenly. "I think I need to
talk to her. Will it be allowed?"
"I think she's been sedated until her trial, but she should be
able to talk to you, Padawan."
Obi Wan flinched slightly at the word 'trial', clearly
recalling his own all too well. He tightened his arm, pulling
the youth a little closer in wordless reassurance.
Obi Wan rolled and propped his chin on Qui Gon's breastbone,
looking up at him, sea-green eyes searching his. "Still your
Padawan?" he asked lightly, but Qui Gon heard the very real
fear lurking behind his tone.
"Of course. Padawan and beloved."
Obi Wan sagged a little in relief and laid his cheek against
his master's breast. Qui Gon knew he was hiding the sudden
tears that had misted his vision.
"Oh, I'm so glad," the young man said fervently.
Qui Gon hugged him warmly, fingers carding through his soft
hair, sliding down the braid and fingering the beads entwined
in the plaited hair. He frowned suddenly, remembering the other
bead he had found in the fountain.
He hugged Obi Wan once more and urged him off so that he could
sit up. "There is something of my own I must follow up on, Obi
Wan," he said, tugging his tunic down and pulling his breeches
back up around his waist. "Your instincts about Elspeth may
well be correct."
Obi Wan nodded solemnly, a proper apprentice once more, and the
Jedi Master repressed a grin. "You will make a fine Knight, Obi
Wan Kenobi." He kissed his lips quickly. "Go. See your friend."
"Yes, master. But.... I think I should clean up first."
Qui Gon shot him a teasing look. "You think?"
Obi Wan hesitated, then suddenly pressed his own quick kiss to
Qui Gon's bearded lips. Qui Gon could glimpse the return of his
apprentice's confidence already. He repressed a smile at the
thought that he rather liked the youth biddable and not so
stubborn.
"Master.... tonight?"
Qui Gon swallowed then, seeing the love in those eyes. His
heart felt like a fist was squeezing it. "Tonight and every
night, love."
Obi Wan flashed him a smile that made his belly flutter with
anticipation and the muscles in his groin tighten. Old
goat, he chided himself. You will be patient.
Obi Wan jumped up and disappeared down the garden path, hastily
pulling his clothing into place. Qui Gon watched him go and
shook his head, marveling at the recuperative powers of the
young. Yesterday the world had been crashing down, and indeed,
Obi Wan had had good reason to feel so. But this morning his
step no longer held the tread of doom. He no longer looked like
a man uncaring if he lived or died. His brave Padawan was back,
full of the intense joy of life that made him so very special
and unique.
He drew his knees up and laid his arms across them, staring
thoughtfully at the ragged trail of a sapphire butterfly
through the air. He took wry note of the fact that more than
one set of muscles were complaining. Clearly he hadn't used
those particular ones in a long while. It was almost a dream,
as Obi Wan had whispered, a dream that his arms, so long empty,
were now filled.
His eyes shuttered briefly, his lips curling in a smile he
could not contain.
The bead, he reminded himself, the bead. He had forgotten about
it in the furor surrounding Bacco's death and Obi Wan's
subsequent 'arrest'. His forehead creased slightly in a frown.
Why had Mace not mentioned it to him last night? True, the
tensions between them, the stiff, unbending Code that Mace
followed so scrupulously, had hung between them like a palpable
third presence. It was possible that his old friend had allowed
his intense disapproval of Obi Wan's 'secret', of Qui Gon's own
passion for his student to cloud his judgement, to let him
forget that two Padawans had been killed.
Though, knowing Mace, that was extremely unlikely. Even as
strangely as the man had been acting lately.
Perhaps Mace had discovered the bead to be useless, or perhaps
the psychic signature of Sandor's terror had faded from it.
Whatever the reason, there had to be a logical explanation.
There was much that the strength of the council together could
learn from such an item. An item that he believed to have most
definitely been present during the murder itself.
Why hadn't Mace mentioned it?
His frown deepened as he mulled over the significance of such
an oversight in such an anal man, and he stood, brushing at the
stiffened patches on his tunic and attempting to put himself to
rights. There was no time to wash. He needed to see Mace
immediately.
"Elspeth?"
Obi Wan poked his head down through the arched alcove of the
secluded chamber the temple guards had directed him to. Within
the interior was a door that was too small to lead to anything
but a closet, a short hall leading into the living chambers,
and a few potted plants drooping and struggling for life in the
dim light. "Hello?"
Silence was his answer.
He stepped further into the chamber, his face expectant.
"Elspeth?" he called again. Water was dripping somewhere. He
saw no temple guards, and for a moment he wondered if he taken
a wrong turn somewhere. Then he spotted a young guard sitting
in a chair just beyond the hallway, arms folded over his chest,
long legs crossed at the ankle in front of him. His head was
down, chin touching his chest, as if he were deeply asleep.
Frowning slightly, Obi Wan shook his head and approached the
sleeping guard, his hand outstretched to shake his shoulder.
Then he saw the blood.
The breast of the guard's black temple uniform was gleaming
with a dark liquid. Obi Wan froze in his step. Even from
several paces away he could smell the bright tang of spilled
blood, like metal in his mouth, an unmistakable scent. Once
experienced, never forgotten.
His throat had been cut.
Obi Wan began to back slowly away in horror, all the fear of
the past several days slamming into him at once. His heart,
after that first painful seizing, began to pound against his
ribs in stacatto rhythm. The room spun. He felt skin of his
face was going numb and dimly noticed he was hyperventilating.
Obi Wan held his breath for a long moment to stop the dizzying
sensation, then had to remind himself to breathe before turning
and stumbling for the archway.
Only when he turned did he see the dark stain spreading from
beneath the tiny closet door next to the arch. The sound of
dripping intensified, and he realized it was coming from behind
the closet door. Obi Wan made a small sound in his throat,
halfway between a whimper and a sob. It was happening again. It
was all happening again.
He trembled and tried to reach for Qui Gon with his mind, but
his mental disciplines were shattered. He managed a weak jet of
sending, gone dumb before it was out of him, before his control
shattered altogether as the dark liquid spreading across the
floor touched the toes of his boots.
"Noooo!" he sobbed, and lunged forward to jerk the door open.
Elspeth tumbled into his arms and he fell with her, her slight
weight bearing his unresisting body to the floor. Obi Wan
uttered a wailing cry of denial and loss as he cradled her
limp, soaking wet body in his arms. She was warm and smelled of
soap. He looked down into her wide staring eyes and shook her
violently, his voice rising on a note of hysteria.
"Elspeth! Elspeth!"
He might have gone on forever, shaking her and screaming her
name, if not for the arms that grabbed him from behind and the
iron hand clamped over his mouth.
Qui Gon found Master Windu in the Temple of Reflection, a cold
and darkened hall with little light and a single uncomfortable
bench. It seemed the perfect place for the man to retreat to.
The stark order of it, the unadorned lines and the pure
elegance that could only come with such enforced structure.
Mace sat neatly on the small bench with his back to him.
"Come to speak to the statue, have you?" Mace asked tightly, a
wall of hurt behind the words.
Qui Gon laid his hand on his shoulder. "I didn't mean that, old
friend."
Mace turned and took in his disheveled state. He froze, an
undefinable emotion flashing past his features. "You could" he
said deliberately, "have taken the time to wash. You smell like
a Dug prostitute."
Even Mace's surly rejoinder could not dim his mood. Or distract
him from the reason he had come. He moved to sit beside the
stiff figure on the bench, looking up at the beautiful elegance
of the statuary that hung over the floor. Grim and lifeless
though it was, it was also stunningly elegant in its sleek
perfection. Staring nude figures hung as if in the air along
the walls, looking down on those who came to reflect, to
perhaps judge?
"I only wish to protect the boy, Qui Gon." Mace's words were
tight, and the big man did not look away from the central-most
figure. A massive stone woman, her curves limned in the faint
light of the clerestory windows high above. "I have seen the
folly of lusting after a Padawan."
That shocked Qui Gon, and he knew Mace felt his sharp emotion.
It practically echoed in the high, stone hall. A smile lit
Mace's lips, though he still did not look at his friend.
"It is not as you think, Master Jinn. I do not lust after
children." The flush that came to Qui Gon's face was not anger,
or shame....it was stunned shock. He had read the inflection in
Mace's voice....he understood. Mace didn't lust after children,
but he did desire Obi Wan. Surely no child.
He was speechless for a moment, his mouth hanging slightly open
as he stared at the chiseled profile. After a long, long
moment, he turned his eyes back up to the statue that Mace
stared at. It was the representation of Calm, he realized
distantly.
"I'm sorry," Qui Gon said quietly, only now realizing how
painful it must be for Mace to be confronting him in his
present state. He, the one who had claimed the object of Mace's
desire and then come to him still with the scent of Obi Wan on
his body, the taste of him still in his mouth.
Callous, he berated himself. Insensitive. Cruel,
even. But how was I to know?
Mace only sighed and then finally, finally turned to face the
other Master. "I came to terms with it some time ago, Qui Gon.
But I am concerned still. I have seen what happens with such
desires. I saw what happened to Geen."
"Geen?" Qui Gon frowned, not understanding. Mace did not
release his gaze.
"Obi Wan's recount of the Dark Energy tells only half the
story, I think. Why did It find a receptacle in Geen? We know
how Dark Energy works. It feeds of emotions that are already
present. That are repressed or hidden. Things that many of us
carry with us and never allow to surface. How was Geen able to
rape his best friend? Not only because he had wanted Obi Wan
for so long, but because he himself had been lusted after. By
his master."
"What?!" Qui Gon was frowning again. The quiet, gentle Veddian?
Be'el had desired his Padawan? Not that it was that surprising
in retrospect. Geen had been truly beautiful. There were many,
student and teacher alike, who had admired him.
"I knew for some time. I was, as you put it, 'peeping though
windows and taking names'. I suspected that Be'el had taken it
further. That he may have sexually abused the boy."
"And you did nothing?!" Qui Gon gasped, realizing instantly the
trap he had walked into.
"And interfere between a Master and his Apprentice?" Mace asked
wryly. There was no trace of malice in the man's face, only a
sad amusement. "Recall how well you handled it. And, just like
with you, I had no proof."
Qui Gon shook his head ruefully, bringing one hand up to rub at
the bridge of his nose. Poor Geen, if it was true......and it
did explain the boy's repressed sexual rage. He blinked
suddenly, frowning. The bead....
"Mace, did Be'el ever give you the bead I found?" Somehow, with
a sick twist of his stomach, he already knew the answer.
"Bead? What the blazes are you talking about, Qui Gon?"
He came to his feet in a rush, his eyes slightly wild. It
wasn't Elspeth after all, just as Obi Wan had thought.
And that meant that both the girl and his own Padawan were
still in great danger.
Obi Wan's boots scrabbled and kicked on the floor, striving for
purchase as he was dragged like a rag doll down the hallway, a
brutal hand cutting off both his screams and his air, past the
dead guard and into the adjoining bathroom. His knees banged
against the tub and warm water suddenly splashed over the rim
and down his legs. Elspeth's bath.
"Did you really think you would escape me? You, who are more to
blame than all the others? I saved you for last."
Obi Wan noted with dulled astonishment that Master Be'el's
voice sounded almost exactly the same. Still the slow, measured
tempo, still the rough-edged pronunciation. Only his words
themselves contained the madness that had infected his soul.
"Filthy little whore. Just like them all. Just like him. No
wonder he wanted you." The words were low and cloaked with
hate, even through the almost conversational tone. And Obi Wan
could feel It. Feel the cold touch of a presence he had fought
to forget, the icy fingers of the thing that had killed Geen.
Now fully embraced by the master hunched over him.
He barely had time to think about it before steel fingers
tangled in his hair and shoved him down. Warm liquid closed
over his face and he gained sudden strength from the
death-terror, for a moment fighting free of the water,
screaming, his hands gripping the lip of the tub and attempting
to brace against the onslaught, back straining against the
terrible strength of the Veddian.
But one slight human Padawan was no match for a Veddian Jedi
Master.
A fist hammered down, smashing his hand against the enameled
metal lip of the tub, breaking his hold. His head slipped under
again, silencing his cries. Obi Wan clamped his lips shut and
grimly began to fight for his life. He reached out for the
Force, only to touch an unfamiliar damping field that rendered
his Force-sense useless. A Master's trick, never meant to be
used against their own, now a deadly weapon.
He tapped into his inner bond with Qui Gon and found that
avenue blocked as well. His attempts to appeal to the Veddian
telepathically were also rebuffed. That left only sheer
physical strength and wile, and he was fast running out of
both.
Obi Wan kicked wildly, only to have Be'el simply move out of
the way of his flailing legs, never loosening his hold on his
head. His lungs were shrieking for oxygen, small blood vessels
beginning to burst behind his eyes, when he felt his mouth open
against his will and intelligence and the first reflexive
inhalation of water plunged his mind into a gray nothingness.
He floated in it for a moment, noticing with indifference that
he had relinquished his deathgrip on the tub rim and was
allowing Be'el to simply hold him down in the water.
Drifting in warmth, the view of the Veddian's face now wavering
and blurred through the canvas of the water between them, an
odd look of ecstatic, slow-motion triumph on the textured face.
Darkness flickered and buzzed at his periphery before lazily
closing inwards, his vision receding to a pinprick. And it felt
so soft. So calm. He couldn't hear the sounds of the water
splashing on the floor or the calm grunting of the Veddian's
breath.
He could no longer feel the burning hatred of It, and for that
he was happy.
Funny. Death didn't feel like any of his instructors told him
it might. Right now, it felt just like Qui Gon's arms around
him. Except it wasn't Qui Gon, it was....
Obi Wan opened his eyes in a sunlit garden. Small wings seemed
to flitter in front of his eyes, opalescent light filtering
through gossamer wings of dazzling blue before they parted and
revealed a smiling familiar face.
"Geen? "
His first reaction was joy at seeing this beloved friend again,
but almost immediately something shaming crept up his spine,
settling in his brain. An irrational thing. A hissing voice
that told him that this was the one who had hurt him, forced
him. This was the one who hadn't been strong enough to keep
from raping him. He knew that Geen had been influenced. He had
seen it with his own eyes, the transformation of those sweet
features to the hard countenance of a monster.
But there was a part of him that couldn't keep from thinking
that if his friend had really wanted to fight the Dark
Energy, he could have. It was unfair and nothing that his own
sense of right could ever listen to, but it was there. In his
gut. Geen extended a hand to him, and he recoiled
involuntarily, suddenly recalling with crystal clarity the
flinty light in those beautiful eyes, and the way those hands
had seemed like iron claws, turning him onto his belly, fingers
digging into his shoulders as his body was violated....
"It wasn't me, Obi," Geen said softly, jolting him out of the
terrible memory.
"Not the real me. You know that I would never have hurt you.
Not you...." Pleading now.
That voice. He had always loved Geen's voice. Just the
slightest hint of his Alderaanian accent, not light, not deep,
but rich. Like chocolate. His eyes were stinging with tears he
refused to shed. Geen's voice was fractured with pain.
How could you hurt the feelings of the dead?
Ever since that terrible, terrible day he had gone over in his
mind what he would say to his friend if he'd had the
opportunity. It was an exercise in closure that he had
engineered to try and bleed some of the pain and the betrayal
from his soul. It had never worked. And now, here he was, with
the chance he never thought that he would have. Geen was before
him, as beautiful as he had ever been. And the light in those
emerald eyes was blinding him with the agony of deep regret.
He forced himself not to retreat any further, but he couldn't
prevent himself from flinching when Geen finally touched his
shoulder. His friend's eyes were full of tears. Obi Wan forced
himself to remember every other moment that had led up to the
cave, forced himself to recall that this youth had been his
best friend for a reason. And that, if he could have, he would
have loved him with everything that he had.
"I would never have hurt you...." Geen repeated again, pulling
closer now, laying his head on Obi Wan's shoulder oh-so-gently.
He smelled of sweet-spice and apples, the shampoo that he had
used. The scent rocked his senses and he swallowed past the
rock in his throat, letting his own arms close around his
friend. They stood there, unmoving, in that ethereal place
surrounded by a garden that would always symbolize the epitome
of happiness for him. A love that he had been lucky enough to
have fulfilled. A love Geen had never gotten the chance to have
returned.
After a long moment, Geen pulled back and looked at his friend,
one hand coming up to gently trace Obi Wan's lower lip."You do
have to go back. You know that, don't you?"
He did. He could feel it even now, the pull of things
unfinished. "The dark energy..." Obi Wan faltered. "Is it in
Master Be'el, too?"
Geen's eyes narrowed with an emotion that Obi Wan couldn't put
his finger on. It made him feel slightly queasy for some
distant, unknowable reason.
"Not any more. He is the dark now. He has embraced it,
and now it will never let him go. You're going to have to kill
him, Obi Wan."
Kill Be'el? Obi Wan puzzled silently. But I'm
dead.... His own body felt strange and unresponsive, as if
he were wearing too many heavy clothes, and when he looked down
at his hands there was an odd transparency to his flesh. But he
could sense that he was not really a part of the place they
stood in. That the butterflies were not quite there, that the
garden was more of a dream, a ghost of sensations. It was not
for him.
A puff of exasperated laughter. "You're not dead, silly."
The hands that framed his face gently were the same that he
remembered. The same wicked smile, the teasing green eyes. The
mouth soft upon his in a kiss of ineffable tenderness.
When it was over it was Obi Wan's turn to simply lay his head
on his friend's shoulder. He hugged him tightly. "Oh, Geen. I'm
so sorry I couldn't love you."
"Ssshhh," A ghost hand played across his hair. "Don't worry
about that now. As long as you know...that you know that I'm so
sorry. If there was one person that I had never wanted to cause
pain, it was you. I don't ever expect you to forgive me, but I
hope that someday you will remember me without hatred. "
He didn't know....he didn't know if he could. And he knew that
Geen knew it too. The sadness in those eyes told him that. Obi
Wan wasn't sure he could speak through the painful lump in his
throat.
"I wish that...." Geen faltered, looking down at their feet as
his voice dropped to a whisper, "I only wish that I could have
made love to you once. The way I always wanted to. The way it
should have been."
He looked up again and the pain written in his face nearly
crushed Obi Wan's heart. His grip tightened around his friends
shoulders and he couldn't fight back the sob that had been
threatening.
"I-I wish that, too," he finally managed.They stared at each
other for a long moment, paths untaken stretching between them.
The agony of thwarted joy, the tragedy of everything that had
happened. The brutally unfair fact that Geen had been denied
everything that Obi Wan had been given, and that all he wanted
now was the hope that his friend might not remember him with
hatred. The tears would not stop, and the two friends clung to
each other for an unknowing span of time, Geen paradoxically
trying to comfort Obi Wan.
When the sobs finally stopped, and Obi Wan looked back up into
Geen's face, his friend smiled sadly and kissed his forehead.
"You have to go back now," Geen whispered reluctantly. "You
have a much greater destiny to fulfill."
Obi Wan frowned. "Stopping Master Be'el is my destiny?" Just a
trace of his inherent sarcasm glimmered through in the tilt of
his lips.
"Oh, much more than that, Obi. Trust me, you have to go back.
Back to life. You have a long road yet to walk. We both know
mine is done."
"I do miss you," he finally said, almost fiercely, taking
another deep breath of clean apples and spice. And it was the
truth. He missed his friend so much it hurt.
"I know. I miss you, too."
The sounds of water lapping against the walls of a ceramic tub
were getting louder, overwhelming the happy hum of insects and
birds in the garden. The vines and the gently swaying treetops
were darkening, blurring, taking on the aspect of dark gold
wall-paint and dim light fixtures mounted at intervals.
He felt lips kissing his cheek once more, and then the world
tipped fully upside down and the blazing fire was back in his
lungs. He was under water, Be'el's hands on his shoulders,
pinning him down. Killing him.
He knew a moment of despair. Be'el was so strong, his grip so
powerful. An image came to his mind's eye. Qui Gon, smiling at
him in the garden as he put his clothes to rights after a
morning of lovemaking.
He would fight for that. He would do anything to have that
again.
Obi Wan twisted in the bath, the warm, soapy water aiding him,
his flesh sliding under Be'el's hands. For one instant the
Veddian's grip loosened, and Obi Wan's head was out of the
water. He sucked air into his lungs desperately, a great
whooping gasp, and it was enough to lend renewed strength to
his muscles.
But Be'el was back on him in a flash. Obi Wan felt his limbs
giving way under that iron grip, flesh bruising, letting go....
In that moment, he heard the embittered and wrathful call
through the Force; "Master?"
Geen's voice. Obi Wan had just heard it, but there was no
confusion on the Veddian's face either. He knew the sound of
his apprentice's voice.
Be'el started in profound shock, his head whipping around to
find the source of the sound. He released the helpless Padawan
in the water, his jaw dropping in horror as he searched with
suddenly frantic eyes.
Obi Wan seized the opportunity. He drew his knees to his chest
under the water, then planted the soles of his boots firmly on
Be'el's barrel chest and kicked with every ounce of strength he
possessed.
Be'el went flying back and slammed into the wall.
Obi Wan scrambled, sputtering, from the tub, catapulting his
body up in a fighting stance. Even with the distraction Geen
had given him, the Veddian still had him in the force-damping
field. He could not touch the Force at all. But he still knew
how to use his body.
Be'el recovered almost instantly as soon as he saw that there
was nothing in the bathroom with them, and he drew his lips
back in a vicious snarl, his teeth glowing white against the
dark nut-brown of his face, green eyes blazing, recalling to
the young Padawan that he was facing a full Jedi Master. Obi
Wan quailed inwardly but held his ground, hands balled into
fists, desperately trying to recollect everything he knew of
Veddian physiology. He was so shaken by the attack that
nothing, no strategy or technique or physical weakness, was
coming to mind. He had never faced an enemy this powerful
before.
And Master Be'el meant to kill him.
Quicker than the human eye could follow, the big Jedi lunged at
Obi Wan again, grabbing him by the fabric of his dripping wet
tunic and slamming him against the wall so hard the world spun
briefly on its axis. Again he was driven against the plaster,
the back of his head connecting with the unforgiving wall,
sending starbursts of light blossoming behind his eyes.
Bigger opponents....there were always weaknesses, he heard a
heard was one of his ribs.
Gasping with pain, he looked up from where he lay crumpled
against the wall, seeing Be'el stalking towards him, one eye
tightly closed and leaking a brown, sap-like fluid. The Veddian
was not slowed up a bit by his new injury, and Obi Wan read
death in the functioning eye. Clutching at his side, trying to
draw a breath into his cramping, tight lungs, he tried to think
how to defend himself. There was nothing he was going to be
able to do. Be'el was through playing around.
Every instinct he had screamed the wrongness of the moment to
him. He was Jedi! Jedi did not fight each other, not like this.
And yet Be'el had killed many Jedi already. Had murdered Sandor
and Bacco and Elspeth and ---
"Geen!" he shouted in anguish, eyes widening as the shimmering
blue form of his friend appeared from out of nowhere behind
Be'el just before the big alien was upon him, jerking the
Veddian to a stunned halt.
Geen's blue-limned hands came down on his former master's
shoulders. "Hullo, Master," said the ghost of the dead boy.
"Miss me? I'll just bet you do."
Be'el shrieked and leaped away from Geen as Obi Wan struggled
to rise to his feet, clasping his side tightly as bolts of pain
shot through him.
Geen advanced on the suddenly retreating Veddian, his walk slow
and suggestive. "It's what you miss that bothers me. My
accomplishments? Pride in my grades? No.... that's not it, is
it? What you wanted - what you still want - is what I never
gave you permission to take."
"Away!" Be'el screamed, waving his arms as if he could banish
the spirit by motion.
"From you?" Geen asked in contempt. "Gladly." He turned away
and vanished as if he had never been.
As soon as he was gone, Be'el's hands were clenching in fury.
"Damned little whore. I'll show you to-- "
But Geen's brief appearance had been enough. Be'el's shock had
dropped his concentration on the field surrounding his prey,
and the Force was once more flowing under the damaged Padawan's
fingertips. Obi Wan, as he had been trained, took immediate
advantage of both.
He would not use the Force to help him, not yet. It was too
soon and Be'el would simply remember to raise the shield again.
Instead he stepped up and struck Be'el a glancing blow to the
chin with his fist. The Veddian only smiled, turning to him,
his face a leer of twisted insanity and brutality.
"You want to play rough? Is that what you like?"
Geen's own words, from the cave. They sent a shiver of pure ice
straight through the youth as his brain struggled to understand
why it was important that Geen had uttered them too. Obi Wan
steeled himself and hit the stocky master again, pounding his
mid-section, scoring a punch to his face. Still pretending to
have no contact with the Force. Lulling the big Veddian into a
false sense of superiority.
The Jedi Master caught his wrists in both of his broad hands
and laughed, thrusting his face close to Obi Wan's. "He wanted
me, you know. He did. He wanted everyone. He was always a
little slut, even when I first bedded him at fourteen. What did
it matter if I took him? Another master would have if I did
not."
Obi Wan was rocked by the meaning of his words, and for a
moment he forgot entirely to fight back. "You...." his mouth
worked. "Your own Padawan?" he whispered in disbelief. "Against
his will." Such a thing was almost unheard of in the Temple.
Consenting relationships between adults were one thing. To take
one so young, even willing, was bad enough. But rape....
Be'el laughed.
No wonder the dark energy had been able to influence Geen so
easily. The corruption of spirit, placed there by the one
person he was supposed to be able to trust, had already begun.
He had harbored such resentment and even hatred of Geen for so
long now. Such a waste. If he had only known...
That last niggling doubt, that last questioned answered, that
last piece of the puzzle falling flawlessly into place.
Understanding swept through him, and he drew strength from the
finality of it, felt the suppressed pain and betrayal burst
inside him like a noxious boil and drain away. He cast it
aside.
"Geen, I'm so sorry," he whispered.
The Jedi Master sensed the peace and focus the resolution gave
the young Padawan, strengthening him, and he screamed his rage,
even as Obi Wan called up the full strength of the Force and
slammed the heel of his palm into the dark face, kicking his
feet out from under him. Be'el went down with a crash that
shook the fixtures.
"No more," Obi Wan said through his teeth, grabbing the
Veddian's head and slamming it against the unyielding lip of
the tub. He would not, even in this moment of horror and rage
and disgust, give in to his anger. He would not win only to
fail in the end.
"Never." He aimed a kick at his gut.
"Hurt." He hammered his fist on the hand clutching the rim,
feeling the bones give.
"Anyone again." Be'el was stunned, not only by the blows, but
by the intensity of the force behind them. Weeping raggedly,
Obi Wan seized the thick brown throat in his hands and pulled
the Master up, then slammed his head under the water, holding
him there for the eternity it took until those powerful legs
stopped kicking and bubbles no longer rose from beneath the
surface.
His arms ached with the strain of keeping the strong Jedi
underwater, and he was still unaware that he wept as he let all
the grief and rage he felt over what this creature had done to
Geen, to him...and to the others simply spill out into the
Force. Cleansing him. The pain was still there, but it was a
natural thing. Clean in its own way.
Obi Wan held the Veddian's head under for at least a full
minute after he was dead, his shoulder still hitching with
sobs, then slowly released him, allowing his broad body to slip
out of the bathtub and onto the floor. Water streamed from the
open mouth, Be'el's waterlogged eyes open and soulless as green
glass.
And then...
...and then Obi Wan began to tremble violently, for even as he
watched, the Veddian's skin, pebbled and rough as tree bark,
began to move like snakes writhing beneath the dermis.
The dark force energy began fleeing from Be'el corpse like rats
from a sinking ship. The stout Veddian literally withered as
the energy bled out of his very pores, streaming from his skin
like mist and pooling about Obi Wan's ankles.
Obi Wan backed away in horror, his breath freezing in his
throat at the macabre sight. Yet, after only a few steps, he
found he could not move at all.
Darkness. It coiled around him like a heated serpent,
seeking... seeking.
"No!" Obi Wan screamed. He flung himself back against the wall
and felt the energy rising up to his waist, reaching for him,
pulling him down to his knees, invading and opening him from
within.
"I have nothing you can take!" he shouted wildly, struggling
against the thing seeking to gain a foothold on his soul.
And indeed, there was no darkness in the young man to exploit.
There was, however, a great deal of pain to feed off of.
"No, no..." Obi Wan sobbed as the black energy plucked at the
strings of his psyche, extracting, drawing forth his adolescent
fantasies of Qui Gon, marring them with malevolent hands,
tearing them out of shape until they were something ugly and
sick.
"It's not that way!" he shouted to the ceiling, eyes closed,
his hands tearing at his hair, his face. "It was never that
way!"
But it was... it is... the dark insisted. So seductive,
so beguiling. Look.....
His eyes were closed but the vision was inside his eyelids,
inside his brain. Qui Gon, touching him in the garden, but the
face was not his master's, not the beloved blue eyes or the
full mouth that smiled far too infrequently. The cherished
smile turned to a leer of pure lust as the gentle hands became
demanding and cruel, tearing his clothes, inflicting pain
rather than giving pleasure, taking without thought or love...
Stop! Obi Wan held his breath and forced his mind back
to the truth, to the reality of Qui Gon's love for him. He held
on to that as an anchor of his being, and felt the resulting
malice of the dark thing that stood outside of his soul and
hammered for entrance. He knew a moment of pure terror when he
realized the thing's new intent.
If It could not have him, It would destroy him.
Qui Gon! he sent silently, a resounding cry of
inestimable loss. Just when he had found the greatest love he
had ever known - was ever going to know - he was going to lose
it all. Just like that.
Master... My master, I love you... love you so much. Obi
Wan reached with all his being for the bond that been there
since he had become Padawan, caressed along the edges of that
fusion, embraced Qui Gon with the tendrils of his consciousness
and tried desperately to let him know, in one final, supreme
moment of life, how he was cherished.
And then he had to let go of him. A black wall was descending
between them, a dark barrier that seized their bond and began
to slowly crush it to death.
Mace and Qui Gon burst into the room as the dark energy ripped
soundlessly through Obi Wan's limp body and then fled him. The
apprentice fell back onto the wet floor, eyes rolled back in
his head, as a crimson cloud gathered above their heads.
"OBI WAN!" Qui Gon roared as his apprentice - his love -
slumped to the floor beside Be'el and lay there, seemingly
lifeless, the whites of his eyes showing and long red scratches
on his face and throat.
Seemingly dead.
He had felt his apprentice's agonized farewell through the
Force, the tormented voice that cried its love and then - with
a sweetness that ripped into him like knives - had let him go.
He would not let it happen. He had taught his apprentice
acceptance to the will of Force, to bend to its demands and
live according to its dictates. But teaching and doing were two
different things. He would not accept this loss. Never.
Never.
But there was no time. The dark energy was coiling over their
heads, gathering into a red cumulus of swirling mist. Both
masters knew that it was only searching for an opportunity to
strike, an opening.
"No!" Mace screamed suddenly. "Obi Wan!" Qui Gon recalled, too
late, that Mace would also have reason to sense Obi Wan's touch
through the Force. He could not even imagine the pain- to be
helplessly in love with someone you knew would never return it,
to see his beloved lying terrifying still, to know that his
last thoughts were of someone else.
But he began to understand it when he found Mace's hands locked
around his throat.
"It's your fault!" Mace shouted, face swollen with rage. "If
you had let me send him away he would still be alive. You
selfish bastard, it's your fault he's dead!"
"Mace!" Damn it all, there's no time for this! "Mace,
listen to me!"
"Your fault!" Mace's fingers dug into his throat, cutting off
his wind. "You just used him! You could never have really loved
him!"
He could feel his own rage rising to meet his friend's, the
resentment at his words, his fury that Mace dared to even
imagine what was between him and his apprentice. His hands rose
up of their own volition, wrapping themselves around the other
Jedi's throat, squeezing even as black spots began to dance in
his vision.
His rational brain saw the long dark force-filaments of murky
red trailing down from the ceiling, swirling around both of
them, feeding their resentment and rage, enhancing the negative
anger that even now kept them battling each other rather than
it.
Kept them occupied while Obi Wan died.
With a roar Qui Gon summoned the Force and used it to shove
Mace away from him, breaking the death grip on his throat. The
other Master crashed into the door, splintering the old wood,
and fell back on his knees. He rose immediately, his hands
outstretched, his mouth stretched into a feral snarl.
This is not us, this is not who we are, Qui Gon began
chanting to himself, even as another blinding storm of grief
and fury howled over him, sinking into his bones. His mind was
suddenly replaying the moment in the Moot only two days ago,
remembering those hands on his Obi Wan, recalling that terrible
invasion and warping the meaning. The bastard had brutally
forced his Padawan's mind open, rooting about in those most
precious thoughts and memories like a rat in the harvest. And
now, knowing that Mace had harbored feelings for Obi Wan, the
memory was twisting into something else.
"Bastard! You're as bad as that child-rapist!" he snarled,
picking the other Jedi up by the front of his robes, lifting
him clear off the ground. "How dare you even touch him!"
And he moved to throw his friend once more.
But Mace, an unholy light in his eyes as he stared at Qui Gon,
twisted himself in the unbreakable grasp, brought his feet up
and slammed his booted heels right into the bearded jaw. They
both tumbled to the ground, Qui Gon leaking blood from one
corner of his mouth. Instantly they were on their feet again,
circling warily, like wolves looking for a weakness.
"And Geen," Qui Gon sneered. "What of him? You say you knew?
All along? I think it turned you on. I think the voyeur in you
liked it. All that interest in what others are
doing. I think you allowed it because you wanted to do it
yourself!"
The words were vicious, biting, and untrue. Somehow, Qui Gon
found himself shouting them, wielding them like weapons. Mace's
face crumpled inwards, a look of unutterable pain and guilt
crossing his strong features.
"That's not why I stayed out of it!" he shouted wildly. "That's
not it! I wanted..." he trailed off, looking brokenly to the
still form of Obi Wan.
Qui Gon's eyes followed, and it was enough to break him from
his rage. He caught his breath painfully, feeling the terrible
burn of his own anguish as he realized that if his Padawan were
dead, he did not think he could survive it.
"Mace," his voice was raw as he forced himself to straighten
and spread his hands out, not threatening. He could feel the
twisting of the Dark Energy trying to find a foothold, throwing
warped memory after memory at him, scrabbling for purchase. He
ignored it as if it were inconsequential, instead holding his
hand out to his friend.
Mace blinked. His voice lowered to normal tones as he looked
away from Obi Wan, tears in his eyes. "Qui Gon... I should have
done something... Geen. That poor boy." Mace was confused,
shaking his head, one hand rubbing his temple. "I could
have..."
Qui Gon leaned forward and grabbed Mace's hand, pulling him up
to his feet. No time for subtleties, he thought grimly
as he backhanded his old friend.
Mace rocked against the wall of the narrow room and came back
with fire in his eyes, fists clenched at his sides."What the
HELL do you think ---"
"Look!" Qui Gon shouted, and Mace did. The Dark Energy was
swirling furiously around both of them, luminescent to their
Force-sensitive vision, lent a red hue by its simple
malevolence. Qui Gon could fairly smell the thing's outrage and
fury at being denied another host. It wanted them. It
wanted them at each others throats. Most of all it wanted to
consume them.
Mace reached out and seized Qui Gon's forearm tightly.
//Together,// he said, mind to mind, his inner voice raw from
emotions he had not quite reined in yet. //Together we kill
this thing once and for all. For Obi Wan. And for Geen and
Sandor and Bacco and Elspeth.//
Qui Gon slanted one last glance at his Padawan. Obi
Wan...
There was no answer through their bond. Obi Wan still lay
unmoving on the floor. He did not see his chest rise. Terror
lent him strength.
Obi Wan please live, please be alive, please, please...
No answer. The silence was nearly his undoing, and so he turned
away instead. Turned to face the dark energy that had tendrils
extended like hooks, ready to rend and claw, and the fury in
his blood began to sing, demanding action.
No Padawan's here, he broadcast to it. No corrupted
mentors or tortured children. Let's see how you fare against a
real Jedi Master.
//Two.// Mace sent the thought, gripping his wrist. Windu was
haggard in his grief, his eyes reddened and raw, but there was
steel in his voice.
Begone.
Two powerful minds joined against it, willing it into oblivion.
And they were sucked inside the maelstrom. Never had either of
the two Masters, in all their long experience in the galaxy,
ever dealt with such a thing. It was not simply the Dark Side
of the Force, it had gained a near sentience through all its
hosts. Greed culled from a Slaver, hatred from a politician,
lust from a Queen...all the twisted, hidden emotions of a
hundred hundred people on a hundred hundred worlds. Alien
despair and human misery. None of it evil at the base of it,
but made so by the Energy as it fed. Every dark secret or
painful memory that either Mace or Qui Gon had ever had was
ripped from them, twisted and fed back...the attempts of a
desperate consciousness to survive.
Because it was losing. Step by painful step, the two Jedi clung
to each other and through that contact, the truth. Mace was NOT
guilty of abusing Geen. Qui Gon had NOT taken advantage of his
apprentice. Each lie was turned back by the other as they
strained against the storm of hate and fear. And when they had
gained enough of a foothold, they began to use their own
strength of will, their own considerable control of the Force,
to dismantle it from the inside. Alone, each of them would have
failed, but together, they were able to fight back the choking
untruths the Energy tried to feed them.
The thing began to dissolve, atom by atom, before their eyes.
Thoughts and feeling, images of hosts long dead, shed from it
like snakeskin and blazed quicksilver through their minds,
leaving behind fleeting impressions that - thankfully - faded
almost as soon as they were identified. Even Geen's brief
period as host, and the impression of a weeping young padawan
struggling beneath him, was experienced. Qui Gon shuddered and
sought to cast that image forever from his memory.
Neither master knew how long it lasted, but it ended suddenly,
without flourish. Only a long chorus of screams echoing against
the barriers of the Force that neither man ever wanted to hear
again. A shrieking refrain of all the souls the dark energy had
claimed throughout the millennia of its existence. Blending
into the diapason roar of the Force itself as the energies,
good and evil, were absorbed and dispersed into the vast milieu
of many, many others. Fading away.
It was over, and Qui Gon was finally able to determine that
only minutes had passed. It had seemed like a lifetime. He felt
unclean. Panting, he cast around, loosening his death grip on
Mace's arm. Be'el lay dead on the floor, and Obi Wan...
"Obi Wan!" Qui Gon crumpled to his knees beside his Padawan and
lifted him into his arms, cradling him, noting the stillness of
his chest and the thin line of white showing between his
half-open eyelids.
"I'll get help!" Mace ran out of the room and past the chamber
into the outer halls, shouting at the top of his lungs.
Qui Gon laid his cheek near his apprentice's mouth, listening
for even the faintest of breaths. Nothing. His broad fingers
dug into Obi Wan's tender neck for a pulse, hissing at the ugly
purple bruises ringing his throat. A shadow of rhythm, deep
under the skin, so slow and faint that no other could have
detected it.
Other than the contusions, Qui Gon could find no visible
injury. Neural shock, his mind raced. When the dark
energy let him go. Must be.
He pinched Obi Wan's nostrils shut with one hand and leaned
over him, fitting his mouth over the icy lips and breathing
into him. Once. Twice. His own heart was growing cold with
dread when Obi Wan coughed and moved under him. Qui Gon gave a
shout of pure joy when the jeweled eyes opened and Obi Wan
looked up at him curiously.
"Master," he whispered, his voice raw from his injured and
swelling throat. "Why are you crying?"
EPILOGUE
Months later, under the sun of another world, near the waters
of a fall as unlike Kitthurin as they could find, the young man
shivered.
Strong arms encircled his waist as he stood in the hip-deep
water, pulling him back into a warm embrace. "Cold, little
love?"
Obi Wan craned his neck and gave his lover a look of vast
indignation. "Little?"
"I apologize. What else should I call you? Big hunk of
man-love?"
Obi Wan snorted. "Away with you."
"Just try and make me." Qui Gon bent and nuzzled the back of
his neck, teeth scraping gently against flesh, sending
uncontrollable tremors down his back.
"You're shivering again."
"Yeah, but I like this kind."
"Mmm." Qui Gon kissed a line down the young man's neck and
across, pausing to nibble on one curved, sun-warmed shoulder.
"Ready to go back to the Inn?" he whispered in his lover's ear.
"In a minute." Obi Wan pulled Qui Gon's arms more tightly
around him. A long moment passed. Qui Gon was patient, giving
him time, simply glorying in the feel of the relaxed - and very
much alive- body in his arms.
He found he had to keep reminding himself that Obi Wan was
alive.
So close. So close to losing him forever. Of all the young
ones targeted, only he survived.
"Master," Obi Wan began hesitantly. "What will happen to Master
Windu?"
"He will be reprimanded, of course." He allowed his fingertips
to trail across his apprentice's ribs, lightly skimming the
satiny skin. Soft, his inner voice whispered
seductively. I'd like to run my tongue over every single
--
"But," Obi Wan interrupted his thoughts. "Surely they won't
blame him for what Be'el did to Geen?"
//You dwell too often on the future, my Obi Wan,// he sent
through their bond. //Learn to be content in the moment.//
"Blame?" he said aloud. "No. But he had knowledge of the wrongs
done to Geen and decided not to act on it. That in itself is a
heavy thing. Don't worry, Padawan." Qui Gon pulled him close
again in a sudden hug. "Mace will be harder on himself than the
Council could ever be. And as for you," Qui Gon captured a
delicate lobe between his teeth and sucked gently.
"When I finally convince you to come back to that room with me,
I'm going to be harder on you than you ever thought possible."
And the Master pushed his hips slightly forward so that Obi Wan
could feel the insistent stiffness pressing there.
Obi Wan closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the
broad chest behind him. He listened to the roar of the
waterfall, rumbling and chuckling to itself up the wide river
and he imagined that perhaps the river was a lagoon, the waters
aqua instead of blue-gray. That the wind rustled the tops of
tropical trees instead of the slender leafs of a more temperate
variety. He imagined laughter and voices echoing off the water.
And he imagined a pair of green eyes smiling at him. Forgiven.
And then he let his mind fill with butterfly wings of many
hues, and the slant of dawn through a terraced garden. He made
a contented noise and allowed himself simply to be held.
-end-
feedback to kirbycrow@hotmail.com and analise@2cowherd.net
This will be posted in full on Monday (October 4th, with some
illustrations, at TOTO.
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