"I have a bad feeling about this," Qui-Gon murmured.
Obi-Wan started slightly at the sound of his master's voice; it was a measure of how long the silence had stretched between them that the words could startle him. But he quickly recovered himself and nodded. "As do I, Master. Our negotiations weren't especially productive, but at least the Ilohbi were treating us with some respect before this." He was aware of the edge of frustration in his voice, and was expecting the rebuke before it came.
"The respect they showed us as individuals matters little, compared with the disrespect they've shown for the laws of the Senate. You are too intelligent to have been misled by such surface courtesy, Padawan." Qui-Gon's voice was, as ever, gentle, but his tone was firm.
Obi-Wan hastened to explain himself. "I did not correctly voice my concerns before. The politeness is, as you say, immaterial; however, it at least showed their potential interest in working with us as the Senate's representatives. The fact that they've left us waiting here so long today -- to me, it suggests that they are possibly ready to defy the Senate openly."
Qui-Gon nodded in agreement, and Obi-Wan breathed a small sigh of relief. The true reason behind his frustration, behind the slowly increasing awkwardness and distance between his Master and himself, was something he wished to leave as far from Qui-Gon's awareness as possible.
Of course, it was impossible that Qui-Gon didn't know. Padawan apprentices were so often infatuated with their Masters that these crushes were the stuff of common jokes, songs, or the occasional ribald skit at a gathering. Obi-Wan had fallen, in his turn, like so many before him -- a crush filled with the feverish half-pleasure, half-pain that only an adolescent can endure for any length of time. Qui-Gon, in his own turn, had behaved like any responsible Master; he had given Obi-Wan more space, more time on his own, and encouraged other interests. Many of his friends, in similar situations, had gone on, falling out of love almost as quickly as they'd fallen in, even joking with their Masters about the silliness of their teenage affections.
But for Obi-Wan, the emotion had never gone away. In the years since those first adolescent cravings, his feelings had diminished not at all. At times he felt as silly as the boy he'd been eight years ago, who had blushed and stammered every time he spoke to Qui-Gon. He had learned an outward calm, but that calm was as meaningless as the shallow courtesies of the Ilohbi; within him was an emotion beyond his teenage imaginings. Something stronger, deeper. And infinitely more dangerous.
Qui-Gon must have known of his love since the beginning. While relationships between Masters and Padawans were usually frowned upon by the Council, they were not actually forbidden; given Qui-Gon's frequent disrespect for the most formal rules of the Jedi Council, Obi-Wan could not imagine his Master allowing himself to be bound by the unwritten ones, not if his heart told him otherwise. Therefore, the emotion must be Obi-Wan's alone. Qui-Gon allowed him his dignity by not acknowledging Obi-Wan's painful feelings. And for that, he knew he should be grateful.
Obi-Wan told himself this frequently. But instead of gratitude, he felt only an increasing desperation. His dreams were no longer his own; more and more often, now almost nightly, he dreamed of making his Master his lover. The visions were indistinct -- Obi-Wan had only limited experience of sex, and what encounters he had had were with women. As such, many of his longings were still formless and uncertain.
But others --
Others were vivid enough to hear, to touch, to taste.
He had watched Qui-Gon's lips often enough to imagine how they could feel against his own. Knew the outlines of his arms, his back, his legs, well enough to know how the strong planes and curves would fit into his hands. Had heard Qui-Gon's voice in every shade of mood and meaning often enough to guess how it might be deepened in the throes of passion --
Obi-Wan could usually muster enough discipline to stop himself from conscious imaginings. But his dreams delighted him by night and tormented his memory by day, ensuring that even his best attempts would not free him from the agonies of unrequited love.
In the last few months, he had finally reached the point he had sworn to himself to avoid -- the point at which Qui-Gon's presence was becoming distracting, and even painful. The point at which their primary relationship, that of Master and Padawan, was deteriorating.
And it was only his own damn fault.
He breathed out again in frustration, only to catch another warning glance from Qui-Gon. Just as well, he told himself; as long as my Master believes that my distress rises from egotistical concerns, he won't search for any other cause.
But Qui-Gon himself was rising from his chair. "Actually, Obi-Wan, I believe you are right."
"Master?"
"This has gone on long enough. We need not be passive in the face of such rudeness. Come." And with that, Qui-Gon pulled his robes more closely about him and began walking out of the room. Obi-Wan hurried after him.
"What shall we tell the Senate?"
"Only what has occurred. That should be more than enough for them to understand how little interest the Ilohbi have in true negotiations. And our departure from this world should in itself explain that the Senate's patience, like our own, is limited." Qui-Gon led him through the vaulted chamber of the Ilohbi palace; Obi-Wan noticed that the hallways, bustling with activity when they'd been shown in, were deserted.
"Master, are you certain that this disrespect is all they intended today?" Years ago, Obi-Wan had realized with difficulty that his Master -- in all other ways so wise and understanding -- often paid too little attention to the future. The future was admittedly difficult to grasp; even the most enlightened Masters, such as Yoda, could never pin down the exact dimensions and pathways. But endeavoring to understand the future was still a vital part of a Jedi's role -- and one that Qui-Gon often disregarded.
Obi-Wan's own future sense was now telling him that something very dangerous was about to happen.
"No, I'm not certain of that at all," Qui-Gon replied, his voice low, almost a growl.
At that moment, their departure was realized by the Ilohbi; Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan both felt the surprise and displeasure of their hosts, and shared one quick, apprehensive glance.
A decision was made. Without understanding the particulars, both Jedi realized immediately that the dangerous possibility they'd foreseen was about to become reality.
"The quickest way out of here -- " Qui-Gon muttered, clutching at his apprentice's arm. He was not asking a question, but inviting Obi-Wan to search along with him. Together, their minds traced the outlines of the palace in which they stood, sensing the walls that blocked them -- the defenses now being set in place against them -- and the guards, even then being ordered to destroy them. By any means necessary.
"Come on," Qui-Gon urged, turning around to run down the hall to a small, little-used staircase at the side.
Obi-Wan did so, speeding his steps along with his Master until they had achieved an almost unearthly run. "Do you know where we're going, Master?"
"More or less."
A hand grenade clattered on the stairs above them and exploded with enough heat that Obi-Wan winced, even though the blast was two floors away. "Good enough."
A blaster bolt exploded into the wall directly behind them; Obi-Wan whirled around, igniting his lightsaber to deflect any more assaults. Almost unconsciously, he tethered his consciousness to that of his Master; with the use of Qui-Gon's vision and guidance, he could go downstairs backwards as quickly as forwards. But not for too long. "How much further?" he gasped.
"We'll get underground in a moment," Qui-Gon called.
Underground? Obi-Wan thought, before his attention was directed at blocking the laser blasts ricocheting off the walls toward them. The Ilohbi troops were still too far back to do much damage, but their superior knowledge of the palace was acting in their favor; reinforcements were flowing in from lower and lower levels. At this rate, they'd soon be upon the Jedi in incredible numbers --
Left! he felt rather than heard Qui-Gon call. As the steps gave way to flat stone, Obi-Wan whirled around to follow his Master's directive. He realized that they'd gone beneath the formal levels of the palace and were now in an underground cavern, littered with storage bins of a thousand different types. Excellent for hiding, Obi-Wan thought, but we can't hide forever. And even our training won't save us against firepower in these numbers. What is Qui-Gon thinking?
As if he'd heard his apprentice's bewilderment -- which possibly he had -- Qui-Gon sent a mental image of their goal. The palace lay on the edge of a lake, and partly over the hot springs that fed it; the waters served as baths for the royalty and their staff. Qui-Gon was leading them to those waters; if they could dive beneath them, they could probably swim to freedom.
Probably?
Qui-Gon's own uncertainty reflected back to Obi-Wan, no doubt more strongly than the older man had intended. The pools and tributaries beneath the Palace were complex; neither of them could easily trace the pathway to open air and liberty. Obi-Wan, still running after his Master as quickly as he could manage, projected confidence back. We'll make it. Once we're underwater, the currents will guide us.
While he was convincing Qui-Gon of this, Obi-Wan decided to believe it himself.
"Fire at will!" a metallic voice cried behind them, and Obi-Wan realized in horror that the Ilohbi troops now had a clear line of fire. He wheeled around as the first bolts raced toward them; Obi-Wan spun his lightsaber, creating a virtual shield that deflected the blaster fire back at their attackers. The Ilohbi reacted with a moment of panic -- a moment just long enough to allow Obi-Wan to run around another corner after Qui-Gon.
His Master stood at the edge of one of the servants' pools, hesitating -- rather unwisely, now that Obi-Wan thought of it -- to make sure his Padawan was still with him. "Go," he gasped, before inhaling as deeply as possible and diving into the water. Obi-Wan followed suit.
The warm water closed over him, as did an almost-total darkness; the palace's lower chambers had been dim to begin with, and of course there was no illumination underwater. Obi-Wan somehow managed to fight back the adrenalin coursing within him, to slow his heartbeat to normal, and then yet slower. Their swim would be entirely underwater, and of uncertain duration; as such, their only hope was to go into a near-trance, stilling their bodies' functions as much as possible. In past exercises, Obi-Wan had managed such feats for about half an hour before feeling distress.
But, as Master Windu never tired of reminding the students, exercises were one thing. Reality was another. Near-darkness passed into totality. Obi-Wan was too well-disciplined to fear the blackness around him, or even the uncertainty. But he did find himself reaching out towards Qui-Gon over and over again. Not for guidance -- he could detect the subtle shiftings of the current as easily as Qui-Gon could. Nor to be reassured of his own safety.
It was Qui-Gon's safety he wanted -- no, needed -- to be sure of. Without that, going on would've have had little point.
For his point, Qui-Gon returned the concern, opening himself to Obi-Wan in a way that had been all too rare of late.
We'll be all right, Padawan. They've not followed us; all we have to do is find our way out. And we're growing closer -- I feel that -- you must feel it as well --
But Obi-Wan didn't feel it. Increasingly, his attention was devoted to its primary task -- that of keeping his body alive. A task that was growing more difficult by the minute.
His exertions before the dive had taken their toll, and he inwardly cursed his own overconfidence. Instead of a half-hour without breathing, Obi-Wan was quickly becoming certain he would be unable to endure more than fifteen minutes. An amount of time that was fast running out.
After a while, he had no energy left to direct toward orienting himself. Then, none to even feel the patterns of the currents. Finally -- horribly -- he realized he would have to break his link with Qui-Gon; then again, perhaps he no longer needed to be sure of the older man's safety. Qui-Gon's greater experience and control were serving him well now. He need not fear for his Master's life any longer.
But he knew that his Master's fear for him was growing more acute. And there was nothing Obi-Wan could think of to reassure him; Qui-Gon's fear was based in the hard fact that soon, Obi-Wan would be drowning.
Desperately, he cast about once more, wildly trying to find the pathway to the lake outside. Nothing. Obi-Wan shivered; all at once, the vividness of his situation struck him full force. The warmth of the water around him -- the heaviness of his clothing and robe, now beginning to tangle around his slowing body -- the utter darkness more foreboding than it had been since he was a child.
Finally, he found the strength to project one last word at his Master, at his beloved. An echo of the last word he'd heard his Master speak..
Go.
He was unprepared for the shock of terror and rage that answered him.
The hell I will!
The words were so vivid, Obi-Wan could've sworn he'd actually heard them, spoken in Qui-Gon's angriest growl. A moment later, he felt the waters swirl violently around him -- then, wonderfully, Qui-Gon's own hands, pulling him close.
To his utter amazement, he felt the older man's hands on his face, felt his lips on his own. In his oxygen-deprived bewilderment, Obi-Wan thought for a moment that Qui-Gon meant to kiss him farewell; he opened his mouth, numbly accepting.
Instead, Qui-Gon breathed into his mouth; it was only the slightest amount of air, but enough to let Obi-Wan collect a bit of his senses and strength. He still couldn't focus enough to direct himself out -- not enough to make it more than another couple of minutes. But it was something. And it will have to be enough, Qui-Gon thought, more to himself than to Obi-Wan, though his Padawan heard the words clearly. For his part, Obi-Wan was concentrating only on getting the oxygen into his bloodstream, at regaining some small part of his control.
He felt Qui-Gon turn his attention outward again, seeking -- not the path to the outside, something else. Something a great deal closer, apparently, as he quickly focused on a direction, alight with hope.
Take hold of my shoulders, Obi-Wan. Rest upon my back. I will see you to safety. All you have to do is hold on.
Obi-Wan did as he was told; he felt a small stab of guilt at forcing his Master to bear his apprentice's weight as well as his own. But he could do little to help him now.
He could do so little to help himself.
The black tide of confusion and desperation was washing back over him again, and he knew that Qui-Gon's precious gift was also quickly running out.
Qui-Gon's powerful shoulders and legs worked yet more quickly, almost frantically. Obi-Wan tried, as a last effort, to take himself into a full trance; the effect would be almost like deep-space stasis. Qui-Gon would have to awaken him forcibly afterward, but it would save him the need to breathe.
But no -- he'd left that too late as well. His final strength escaped him, and before he could stop himself, Obi-Wan reflexively inhaled water.
No!
Qui-Gon's mental scream -- there was no other term for it -- echoed in Obi-Wan's fast-disintegrating mind. He was beyond caring. Almost beyond knowing.
And then finally, they broke the surface.
Qui-Gon's gasp for air sounded in his ears just before his own coughing and retching. Obi-Wan struck out blindly in the water, trying to keep himself afloat with his feeble strength; his Master spun about and clutched him tightly to his chest with one arm. With the other he pulled them toward a stone wall; Obi-Wan felt the hardness of it against his back.
He could, of course, see nothing; they were still underground, apparently, and still surrounded by total darkness.
Qui-Gon's body framed him; the older man had braced his feet against the wall, allowing Obi-Wan to slump against him as he gasped for breath. His Master's voice was itself hoarse when he spoke again. "You're all right. Be easy. You're safe."
Obi-Wan did not particularly feel safe -- still surrounded by unfamiliar waters and walls, still encased in perfect blackness. But the reassurance of Qui-Gon's voice, his physical nearness, helped calm his racing heart. "I'm sorry, Master. I couldn't gain control well enough --"
"Don't apologize," Qui-Gon said roughly. "This was my fault. I let you do the work of defending us, then chose an escape route that required more strength than you had left." His free hand ran up and down the younger man's back, gentle and soothing. But the calm he was endeavoring to give his apprentice apparently eluded him. "From now on, we carry our breathing gills with us everywhere. I don't care if we're on a mission to a desert planet. Agreed?"
"No arguments here," Obi-Wan laughed weakly before lapsing again into coughing. Qui-Gon fumbled at his belt, reaching, Obi-Wan knew, for his lightsaber. No doubt my Master remembered to change the settings before diving underwater, he thought ruefully. Meanwhile, mine's certainly fried again.
Qui-Gon held the saber out from them and ignited it; the pale green glow illuminated the outlines of the cavern. It was thin, but apparently quite deep, and they had several meters of space above their heads. Obi-Wan blinked a couple of times; was he still half-delirious, or was there something strange about the walls? No, just moss. He could see only the silhouette of his Master's face, but was more calmed by that quick glimpse than by anything else.
"There," Qui-Gon murmured, gesturing slightly towards an outcropping of stone that would be large enough for them to rest on. "We can let you get your bearings. Hold on to my back again." Qui-Gon extinguished the saber and returned it to the belt, freeing his hands for the brief swim.
Obi-Wan obeyed his Master. He didn't feel like using the breath to protest that he could manage on his own, he told himself. And it felt good to just relax and let Qui-Gon take care of him; it was a luxury he hadn't allowed himself -- or been allowed -- in many years.
When they reached the shelf, Qui-Gon braced himself, letting Obi-Wan almost literally climb over him to solid ground. The younger man tried to steady himself, to help Qui-Gon up in turn; but his knees gave out from under him. He collapsed onto the mossy bank; he heard Qui-Gon hurrying up beside him, felt his hand on his chest. "Padawan, are you certain you're all right?" the deep voice whispered.
"Just exhausted, Master. Let me rest for a few minutes, and then we can try again --"
"No," Qui-Gon said, with something not unlike fear in his voice. Though, of course, that was impossible, wasn't it? "We'll wait. If I remember correctly, this afternoon was high tide for the Ilohbi capital. By staying put for a few hours, we'll increase our chances of having several air pockets to assist us on the way out. And no doubt have a better chance at getting to our ship undetected, after dark and hours after they'll have given us up for dead."
All very reasonable. Why then did Obi-Wan sense that thinly veiled unease? "Master, is there something you're not telling me?"
A long pause followed his question; then, Qui-Gon took hold of his Padawan's shoulders and lifted him, holding him against his broad chest. "Only that I was badly frightened for you, Obi-Wan. And I cannot bear risking your life again."
Obi-Wan relaxed into the older man's arms, resting his head just above Qui-Gon's heartbeat. Normally, he would have been so confused, so aroused, by the close contact that he would've tensed up, found a way to break the embrace. Otherwise, how could he have shielded the intensity of his desire from his Master? Now, though, such concerns seemed distant. His exhaustion had stripped away everything except the simplest pleasure in Qui-Gon's nearness.
Well, almost everything. He shivered slightly as he felt Qui-Gon's hands caress his back. But he was still too tired, too dazed, to think beyond the warmth and closeness of the moment.
Which is why Obi-Wan didn't anticipate the kiss.
Qui-Gon's lips found his, brushing against them so gently, so briefly, that Obi-Wan's first thought it was merely an accidental touch. But then Qui-Gon kissed him again, a little more firmly. Obi-Wan was too stunned to react immediately; the kisses had been so quick as to make his exhausted mind uncertain that anything had actually happened.
Was it truly possible?
If only he could see Qui-Gon's face! But he could still see absolutely nothing -- only feel his Master's arms encircling him, in the midst of a warm, moist darkness that seemed, somehow, to have gotten a great deal hotter in the last few moments.
He felt one fingertip brush down his cheek, a gesture so gentle and so loving that Obi-Wan actually found himself shaking at the contact. But Qui-Gon's own emotions must have been masking his ability to read his Padawan; no sooner had Obi-Wan trembled than Qui-Gon pulled his hand away, and loosened his embrace around the younger man. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice unusually soft.
Obi-Wan shook his head before realizing that his Master was, of course, as blind as he was. "You don't have to apologize. Just --"
"Yes?" Qui-Gon's body was tense against him, betraying his uncertainty.
"Just do it again."
He heard Qui-Gon gasp sharply, and for a moment they were both silent and still. Then he felt his Master's breath on his cheek, and opened his lips slightly in anticipation. This can't be real, he told himself, even as Qui-Gon's mouth closed again over his own. I'm hallucinating -- the rapture of the deep, while I'm drowning.
As the kiss deepened, and he found himself pushing his tongue against Qui-Gon's, he began thinking -- then again, maybe this is the afterlife, and it's always been incredibly underrated.
Obi-Wan brought one hand up to Qui-Gon's face, tracing the curve of his jaw, feeling the rough silk of the beard, the heavy fall of damp hair brushing against his skin. His Master responded to the encouragement, kissing him still more deeply; his tongue thrust slowly, strongly into Obi-Wan's mouth, over and over, a shadow of the movements of sex.
The younger man let his hand trail back down the long line of neck and shoulder until it rested again on Qui-Gon's chest. His fingers pulled at the folds of the jacket, baring an expanse of skin broad enough to press his palm against. He wanted to feel that heartbeat quicken beneath his touch, and was immediately rewarded.
Qui-Gon finally broke the kiss, causing his Padawan to groan in mingled arousal and disappointment. But Qui-Gon was making up for the loss elsewhere, bestowing soft, warm kisses on Obi-Wan's forehead, eyelids, cheeks, and throat. Obi-Wan responded in kind, brushing his lips against the older man's temple.
As enthralled as he was by this, Obi-Wan knew he wanted more. Exactly what that would entail was still a mystery, and one he felt more acutely than ever before -- but so much more. And yet he realized that Qui-Gon was holding back, resisting that greater intimacy.
Obi-Wan had thought before on the fact that Qui-Gon's few relationships over the past years had invariably been with women; before, it had been another fact he'd used to discourage his mad crush. Now, this appeared to him in an entirely different light; what if what was happening was as wonderfully new and strange for Qui-Gon as it was for him?
The thought of being the first man to make love with Qui-Gon exhilarated him, and gave him the courage he needed to take the initiative. It doesn't matter if I don't know exactly how to please him, Obi-Wan told himself. We'll find our way together.
Obi-Wan brought his arms around Qui-Gon's neck and kissed him again, more fiercely than before. As the older man responded in kind, Obi-Wan moved his hands down Qui-Gon's shoulders and arms, stripping off the wet, heavy cloak. Qui-Gon froze for a moment, and once again, his Padawan powerfully wished to see his face. Would he have seen hesitation or delight?
He decided he had his answer when Qui-Gon returned the motion, divesting Obi-Wan from his own cloak. As their lips met again, and again, he pulled desperately at his Master's clothing, tugging it away as hastily as he could. Qui-Gon's hands went about their work more assuredly, although Obi-Wan could hear the quickness, the raggedness of Qui-Gon's breath, belying his apparent calm.
Finally, Qui-Gon's hands rested on Obi-Wan's hips, pausing there slightly before tugging away the leggings. Obi-Wan had been on the verge of doing the same for Qui-Gon, but waited, taking a moment to enjoy the warm air against his skin, to anticipate the touch of his lover's -- oh, by the gods, Qui-Gon was becoming his lover -- his lover's hands over his entire body. He let Qui-Gon lean him backwards until he lay on the mossy bank, stretched out and quivering with eagerness.
Overwhelmed as Obi-Wan was by the sudden rush of sensation and emotion, he could not sense Qui-Gon's feelings; as Qui-Gon had not reached through that confusion for him, he assumed that his Master, also, was too powerfully caught up in the moment to find that balance in the Force. He could not sense Qui-Gon any more than he could see him; for the first time in more years than he could count, Obi-Wan existed only in his body, in the exhilaration of each touch, each moment. Although this was strange, it was in some ways liberating -- this extra layer of blindness wrapped around them. Allowing them what was, for the Jedi, the ultimate luxury: mystery.
The same sensitive fingertips that had traced over his face earlier now strayed down the smooth expanse of his chest, resting briefly on the ripples of his abdominal muscles, then at the indentation at his navel; Obi-Wan drew in a shaky breath, losing himself in anticipation.
Qui-Gon pressed his hand down more firmly as his hand strayed strayed lower yet, finally taking Obi-Wan's full length into his powerful grasp. The younger man gasped, arching up to meet the longed-for pressure; as he did so, Qui-Gon loosened his hand just enough to allow the thrusting. His water-damp hand was slick against Obi-Wan's skin as he subtly tightened and released his grip, working with his Padawan's instinctive motion.
Obi-Wan was dizzy, flushed with heat, almost beyond any thought besides the need to keep going; however, he was aware of how badly he wanted to touch his Master the same way, to feel the warmth of that body against his own. He reached out to push down the leggings that formed the only barrier between them.
Again, that hesitation -- but then Qui-Gon shifted, helping Obi-Wan divest him of his last clothing. Obi-Wan in turn moved his hands to Qui-Gon's shoulders, pulling him down to lie alongside him. His Master's hand released him briefly, straying to seek out the lines of Obi-Wan's face one more time; the younger man lifted his face in the direction of Qui-Gon's breathing, anticipating yet another kiss. Instead, Qui-Gon pulled him into a tight embrace, burying his face in Obi-Wan's neck.
Obi-Wan clutched Qui-Gon to him fiercely, moved anew by the tenderness of that gesture, by his Master's need for it. He kissed the side of Qui-Gon's face, making wordless, gentle sounds; for a moment he wondered whether the dampness on Qui-Gon's cheeks was water or tears. Obi-Wan opened his mouth to ask if everything was all right -- all the while wondering at his own presumption, attempting to comfort and guide his own Master -- but Qui-Gon kissed him then, as deeply and passionately as he had before, preventing and answering the question all at once. Their bodies moved instinctively against each other, and Obi-Wan moaned as he felt the long, hot hardness pressing against his thigh, in that moment more real and vital to him than his own arousal.
The sound, echoing in the cavern, seemed to excite Qui-Gon still further; he kissed the younger man roughly as he brought his hand down between Obi-Wan's thighs, beginning once again the rhythm they had found together, grasping tighter, then more softly as Obi-Wan began slowly moving his hips, thrusting in tempo.
They kept that rhythm for what seemed like an eternity, though it could only have been a very few minutes; Obi-Wan wanted this feeling to last forever, but could already sense the blazing heat building within him, driving him towards release, towards ecstasy. Qui-Gon was moving with him, not actively seeking his own pleasure, but unable to resist the quickening motions of his lover's body, kissing his face and chest gently all the while.
Obi-Wan gave up any semblance of control, driving into Qui-Gon's grasp still harder, feeling the pressure with more and more excitement -- then felt himself slipping away even from that, into that blissful moment of inevitability, the knowledge of what was happening -- and then came, crying out unashamedly as he felt the rush of ecstasy overtake him. Qui-Gon continued stroking him as warm fluid flowed over his fingers, prolonging the sensation as long as possible; finally, as Obi-Wan gasped out his final release, Qui-Gon let his hand rest on that still-hard flesh for a moment, then kissed and embraced the younger man again.
For his part, Obi-Wan was too dazed and delighted to think, or speak -- to do anything besides lie exhausted in his lover's arms. He felt his arms and legs shaking, felt Qui-Gon's own powerful presence calming him, reassuring him. They lay still for a few moments before Qui-Gon reached over him, dipping up some of the warm water to gently wash Obi-Wan clean.
Obi-Wan curled up closer to his Master, running one hand through the thick hair on his chest, anticipating the next move; would Qui-Gon want the same? Or would he want to physically possess Obi-Wan, to turn him over with his stomach against the moss --
The possibilities excited him further, and he pressed his lips to Qui-Gon's neck, feeling the pulse against his cheek, waiting for his lover's next move. But instead of continuing their lovemaking, Qui-Gon folded Obi-Wan tightly into his embrace, kissed his forehead, and began stroking his hair -- the last a gesture Obi-Wan recognized from years past as signifying a time for rest. For stopping.
Confused, Obi-Wan pushed himself up on one arm, resisting the wordless suggestion. It wasn't fair for him to have all the enjoyment of the act -- and he knew, from the long pressure against his thigh, that Qui-Gon's arousal was still acute.
He had hoped for guidance, but remembered his earlier idea of Qui-Gon's potential inexperience in this. Well, if his Master did not know what he wanted, Obi-Wan would simply offer him -- anything and everything, until he found what Qui-Gon liked best.
The younger man pressed his lips to the hollow of Qui-Gon's throat, then ran the tip of his tongue down the center of that broad chest. His hand traveled slightly ahead of his mouth, trailing downward, feeling the warmth of the skin beneath his fingertips; finally, he took hold of Qui-Gon's entire length, grasping firmly. Obi-Wan felt abdominal muscles tense beneath his mouth, felt his Master's hand clutch at his back. Fingernails traced small curves against his skin, thrilling him anew. He brought his mouth lower, quickly running through past memories; though he had never performed this act before, he had experienced it. What was it that had excited him most? -- he could recreate that, at least he hoped so.
Obi-Wan let his mouth move lower until it made contact with Qui-Gon's hardened flesh; at the first touch of his tongue, Qui-Gon moaned roughly, arching up towards his willing lover. Delighted by this first response, Obi-Wan opened his mouth, taking Qui-Gon in as deeply as he could. He tasted heat and salt against his tongue as he ran it over the sensitive areas, up and down, gently at one moment, then sucking in deeply the next, increasing the pressure as much as he could; Obi-Wan was rewarded with Qui-Gon's passionate response. At last, the thinly veiled reserve was gone. His Master was now reacting blindly, obeying only his desire. One hand was holding the base of Obi-Wan's neck, allowing him to signal when he wanted more depth, more quickness. Obi-Wan obeyed him, grateful for the long-awaited cue, feeling his own excitement rise as Qui-Gon approached orgasm.
Finally, Qui-Gon cried out -- a sound of abandon such as Obi-Wan had never heard from him before -- thrust once into Obi-Wan's mouth, and climaxed; Obi-Wan drank him in, accepting it all, thrilled to have given Qui-Gon the same pleasure he'd taken himself.
As Qui-Gon relaxed, breathing heavily, Obi-Wan shifted himself, laying his head on that broad expanse of chest. His earlier exhaustion, masked briefly by the fury of desire, was coming back to him now in force; when Qui-Gon's hand returned to stroke his hair, he gratefully gave in. Obi-Wan's last sensations before falling asleep were of the rise and fall of Qui-Gon's breathing, the still-fast heartbeat against his ear, and the powerful arms that cradled him as he drifted away.
"Padawan. Wake up."
Obi-Wan stirred sleepily, opening his eyes to continued darkness. He flushed in mingled pleasure and embarrassment as his memories returned to him. Qui-Gon's hand was on his shoulder, shaking him slightly; he reached up and brushed his fingers against that hand.
Qui-Gon did not respond to the tender gesture, but spoke quickly. "We remained here far longer than I had wished. The tides have already begun turning again; we must leave now, and not lose what advantage we've gained."
Unoffended, Obi-Wan sat up and hurriedly began tugging on his damp clothes. Each thing in its turn, he reminded himself. "After we reach shore, what shall we do, Master? The Ilohbi are certain to have our ship under guard."
"Depends on the strength of the guard, Obi-Wan. If only one or two, we should be able to bend their minds into allowing us to board. After that, I think we should be able to escape before their defensive systems find us. If more -- we'll have to be ready to fight our way through."
Obi-Wan grimaced as he fastened his belt around his waist. "This might be a good time to mention that I fried my lightsaber again."
A sigh. "You'll need to reset it before we get to the hanger. We can see to it after we get out of here."
As Obi-Wan got his cloak around his shoulders, he shifted to the edge of the bank and began readying himself for the dive. Qui-Gon moved close to him before saying, "Padawan, are you certain that you're ready for this?"
"I can prepare correctly this time, Master. I don't think the previous incident did any permanent damage." Obi-Wan hadn't intended any double meaning, but couldn't help smiling as he spoke the last words.
If Qui-Gon was similarly amused, he gave no sign. "Let's go, then."
The swim was far simpler this time; although they had numerous air pockets available to them, Obi-Wan found he needed none. The pathway to the outside seemed absolutely clear now. Obi-Wan understood what poor shape he'd been in, if he'd been unable to sense it -- no wonder Qui-Gon had been frightened.
After a while, the currents shifted and the water suddenly grew cool; Obi-Wan realized they'd made it into the lake, and instantly began casting around for an isolated bit of shore, where they could ascend unobserved. Qui-Gon was obviously doing the same, as a moment later he mentally nudged Obi-Wan westwards.
As they approached the surface, the moonlight became visible -- it seemed astonishingly bright, this the first light he'd seen in almost a day. And soon, Obi-Wan thought, I'll see Qui-Gon's face for the first time since before we were lovers. He knew that his own love and joy had to be radiating from him, and he hungered to see that reflected in Qui-Gon's eyes.
They struggled up onto the bank, taking in welcome breaths of air. Obi-Wan shook the water from his hair, then took up the edge of his cloak to wring it out; as he did so, he looked over at Qui-Gon, a smile playing on his face.
But when he met Qui-Gon's eyes --
Never had he seen such anguish in his Master's face. Written there were guilt, sorrow, concern -- and something, perhaps, not unlike pity.
Obi-Wan felt as if he had been physically struck, and knew that the smile had dropped from his face. The cloak seemed heavy in his hands, and for a moment he could only stand there, soaking wet and feeling the sharp edge of pain.
Each thing in its time, he reminded himself with all the strength he could manage. Qui-Gon looked as if he were about to speak; Obi-Wan cut him off, turning his attention to his cloak as he said, "You don't think they will have damaged the ship? They'll have to have come up with some cover story for our deaths, assuming they do believe us dead."
He could not bring himself to look at Qui-Gon's face, but there was approval in his Master's voice as he answered, "If I know the Ilohbi, they're still bickering over which story to tell the Senate. We should have plenty of time yet."
Obi-Wan nodded as he began walking further up the bank. "Let's hope so, anyway." He took out his lightsaber and began readjusting the settings to compensate for his earlier mistake.
Although the repairs were the work of a few minutes at most, he managed to remain absorbed in the mechanics until they'd reached the spaceport. They remained silent throughout the walk, and mostly throughout their return to the ship -- which proved to be as simple as convincing two night watchmen that this would be an excellent time for a nap.
During that time, Obi-Wan could not help considering what had happened between them in this new -- and painful -- light. The answer, unfortunately, seemed obvious; he also believed he knew what Qui-Gon would do next. And that was the one thing he wasn't prepared to accept.
So it's up to me to provide him with another alternative, he reasoned. Resolved on that point, he was able to turn his attention to piloting their craft through the Ilohbi defense net. Perhaps not quite quickly enough --
"They've seen us," Qui-Gon said, in the moment before Obi-Wan sensed it himself.
"Too late," Obi-Wan said, turning the craft in an evasive maneuver as Qui-Gon pushed them forward into hyperdrive. The stars blurred into streaks, and they slipped easily into lightspeed.
And now it's time, Obi-Wan thought, feeling the unease descending upon them.
"Padawan, we must discuss what has happened," Qui-Gon said, his voice heavy.
"I agree, Master. But -- let me speak first?" Obi-Wan hated himself for the faint pleading, but shook it off as best he could when Qui-Gon nodded. He knew that too much depended on what he would say in the next few moments. He turned his chair about, facing away from the starfield; Qui-Gon remained facing the front.
"You knew before today that I loved you. A poor secret I made of that, though I thank you for allowing me to try. Never have you taken advantage of my feelings, and you did not today. What happened -- the reaction is common enough, we're all taught about it. Crisis situations often create powerful responses. We're not supposed to let those responses get the best of us. That happened to us today -- but it was my fault as much as your own. Please don't think that you have wronged me, or that I'm going to be moping around like a heartbroken adolescent. I can't deny --" Some of his hard-fought control escaped Obi-Wan for a moment, but he swallowed hard and kept on. "I can't deny that I had hopes. Or that I'm disappointed now. But the most important thing, for me, is remaining your apprentice. Qui-Gon, tell me that you think we can go on together as we were, and I promise that I will do my best to make it so."
There, he thought, I got it all out, and surely Qui-Gon will accept it.
He felt rather than saw his Master turn his gaze upon him -- when he looked to the side, he saw Qui-Gon smiling softly at him, though his eyes were sad. "Obi-Wan. You are more generous than I deserve. And more brave than I was able to be -- you shame me in my silence." Obi-Wan opened his mouth to protest, but Qui-Gon held up a hand. "We've come to a point where nothing less than total honesty will do. You should know exactly what my sins are, before you decide to absolve me of them."
"I told you before -- what happened today was no sin."
"But it was, Obi-Wan. Against your love for me, and against my love for you."
Hearing the phrase made Obi-Wan's throat tighten, and for a moment he could not answer. "You mean, your love for me as your Padawan."
"No, I don't mean that at all." Qui-Gon closed his eyes and sighed. "Obi-Wan -- how could I not love you? My student, my companion in battle, my dearest friend, the object of my desire -- you are all these things to me. And more. You have been for a long time."
For a moment, Obi-Wan felt as if he might actually cry out from pure joy. Happiness and awe bubbled up inside him, and his first impulse was to take Qui-Gon back in his arms. But his better sense prevailed. "Qui-Gon, I am -- honored," he said softly. "But if you love me, and I love you, what is it that stands between us?"
"You know what the Council says regarding relationships between teachers and apprentices."
This, coming from Qui-Gon, at this particular moment, was more than Obi-Wan could stand. He smacked the seat's arm in frustration. "Qui-Gon -- in this, of all things, will you let yourself be governed by the Council? Since when do you care what they think? You've sabotaged your standing with them time and again, and over far stricter rules than this one -- am I not worth your defiance?"
"Listen to you," Qui-Gon said, not unkindly. "You describe me as though I were some recalcitrant child, defying the Council for no other purpose than my own amusement. And as though I would not do anything for you."
"Except this, apparently."
"Obi-Wan, mark me well. It is true that I often disagree with -- and disregard -- the dictates of the Council. But I do so only when my conscience and my knowledge of the Force demand it. More often than not, I do agree with the Code. I do respect the wisdom of the Jedi Council. If I did not, I would not remain a Jedi. That would be the height of hypocrisy. I think you understand this, at heart." Obi-Wan nodded, already embarrassed by his earlier outburst. Qui-Gon continued: "In this matter, the Council's opinion and mine are one and the same. You need me to be your teacher. Not your lover. That is how I swore to help you, and by -- making our relationship less clear, I have done you a grave disservice."
Qui-Gon's face betrayed his guilt again, and Obi-Wan had to stop himself from reaching out to take his hand in comfort. "I realize that you are trying to do what's best for me. And I know that -- if you love me -- that means you're willing to sacrifice a lot for my sake. But there are others, Qui-Gon -- there have been teachers and apprentices who had relationships, were even bonded for life, without disrupting the apprentice's training."
"Such examples are the exception, not the rule. And between us -- especially now, at this point in your training -- I believe the rule certainly applies."
Obi-Wan wanted to argue further, but something in what his Master had just said caught his attention. "What do you mean, at this point in my training? What point?"
"Your modesty does you credit, Obi-Wan. But it is time that you realized your training is near completion. In another year -- no more than that, I think -- you will be ready to face your trials, and become a Jedi Knight."
Obi-Wan was still a few years younger than most humans who achieved the level of Knighthood; he had not even thought to consider his trials for some time to come. Qui-Gon's words surprised him -- and then worried him. "You mean -- I'll have to leave you."
Qui-Gon pointed at him, and spoke with force. "And there it is. Listen to yourself! Becoming a Jedi Knight is one of the greatest accomplishments anyone could attain. You have worked towards that status since you were a small child; hours of practice, unending mental discipline -- all that you have given to its pursuit. And when I told you that it was within reach, did you react with happiness? With pride? No. You were dismayed. Does becoming a full Jedi mean no more to you than that?"
"Of course not, Master," Obi-Wan said, then looked up at Qui-Gon pleadingly. "It's just that -- you mean so much to me as well."
Qui-Gon's expression softened. "I know that. But you must see -- there lies our problem. In order to become a Jedi, you must learn independence. You must be able -- and willing -- to stand alone. That has been your most serious flaw for some time; it nearly killed you today, when you spent all your energy looking after me instead of looking after yourself. I have known that I needed to amend that in you. And instead, I gave into my desires. Bound you to me yet more tightly."
"I was already bound to you," Obi-Wan said gently.
"I suppose you were at that," his Master sighed. "I should have spoken to you long before this. But I never fully realized what your feelings were."
"How could you not?" Obi-Wan, to his surprise, realized he was laughing. "I've been mooning after you for years."
Qui-Gon smiled as well; perhaps he, too, was grateful for the lightening of the mood. "When you were younger -- I understood that, of course. But that's only to be expected anytime a Padawan and Master are of ages and races that might feel attraction to each other. But since then, honestly, I thought you'd gotten over it. Your controls are better than you think, Obi-Wan. Better than I thought, before this."
Obi-Wan was incredulous. "Oh, come now. You have to have suspected -- at least that time I fell asleep on your bed," he said, blushing slightly at the memory.
"Well. There were moments. But I generally attributed them to no more than an old man's wishful thinking." Qui-Gon's smile was crinkling the corners of his eyes; it was the expression Obi-Wan loved the best, and at that moment the desire to reach out to his Master welled up again.
Qui-Gon felt it too; their eyes met for a long moment before the older man finally looked away. His voice was low when he spoke again. "I did not mean for us to become lovers last night. Even when I knew I must touch you somehow, or -- even then, I thought perhaps I could content myself with kissing you. I had not thought you would be so -- aggressive."
Obi-Wan's mouth quirked mischievously. "I wouldn't have expected it either," he admitted. "I thought that maybe -- that I might be the first man you'd made love with."
"Ah." Qui-Gon raised one eyebrow knowingly. "And you meant to instruct me for a change?" The idea plainly both amused and touched the older man. "You aren't the first, Obi-Wan. But there has never been anyone, man or woman, whom I loved as deeply as I love you."
Those words broke through Obi-Wan's control yet again, and he leaned towards Qui-Gon, taking one of his Master's large hands in both of his own. "And I love you. Is it wrong for me to want to be with you? Maybe we could find a way, Qui-Gon. Isn't it worth trying, at least?"
His Master closed his eyes again, as if unable to bear Obi-Wan's imploring gaze. "You're making this difficult for me."
"I want to make it difficult. So difficult that you can't do it. I want you to take a chance."
Qui-Gon put his other hand over Obi-Wan's and squeezed tightly. "If it were only a matter of risking our hearts, I would commit myself to you in a second. But it is not." Obi-Wan breathed out hard, disappointed beyond words. He felt tears welling in his eyes, but kept listening. "I will not take chances with your future, Obi-Wan. All your years to come depend in large part on what happens to you in the next months. You must learn your independence. I had not meant for the lesson to be this hard, but the Force takes mysterious paths, sometimes. If I were not willing to endure this loss for you, even to see you endure it for me -- I would fail you, both as your teacher and as one who loves you. Do you understand that?"
The younger man sat quietly for a moment, forcing himself to weigh Qui-Gon's words, to find a oneness with the Force from which to consider what had been said. When he spoke again, his words almost surprised him. "I do. I don't like it, but I do understand." He looked at Qui-Gon again, a new level of control in his expression. "Thank you."
"What for?" Qui-Gon asked quietly.
"For loving me. For being strong for us both. And for helping me through the next few months." He sighed. "It's not going to be easy, you know."
Qui-Gon looked at his apprentice with something that could have been as much apprehension as understanding. "I know. And I'm sorry."
"Don't be. Please, no matter what else happens between us, don't be sorry that it happened." Obi-Wan felt his voice trembling again, but kept speaking; he knew that this, above all, was what he wanted. "I don't want to you to think of making love to me as something regrettable. Something sad. I couldn't ever think of you that way. Let us have the memory at least."
His Master lifted Obi-Wan's hands to his mouth and kissed them quickly. They sat in silence for a moment, each of them struggling for control, for acceptance. Qui-Gon spoke first: "As you wish."
Obi-Wan stood up and quickly kissed his Master on the forehead. "I'm going to meditate for a while, and then, with your permission, I'm going to sleep."
"All very wise, Padawan. I'll see you in the morning." And Qui-Gon turned back to the ship's controls, his Jedi's attention again focusing in on the moment.
Obi-Wan envied him that single-mindedness. Envied him the calm sureness of his decisions. For, although he sensed the wisdom behind Qui-Gon's words, his heart was not comforted; as he walked back towards the small chamber they used for meditation, his chest seemed to be physically aching.
He longed to kiss Qui-Gon again, to feel his lover's response to that kiss, to pull him down on their bunk --
That line of thought isn't going to make it any easier, Obi-Wan reminded himself.
And with new resolve, he set himself about the difficult task of finding peace.