"M...Master?"

The whisper pulled Qui-Gon from a light doze. Several hours had passed since the terrorists had brought Obi-Wan into the cell. Qui-Gon straightened his aching back, felt his spine pop back into alignment, and rolled over to lie face-to-face with his beloved. He reached out and gently stroked Obi-Wan's arm from shoulder to elbow.

"I am here, Obi-Wan. Rest easy. You're safe. For the moment, at least."

Bleary eyes opened and slowly scanned the room. "They found me."

"I'm afraid so."

"Must've...taken me from the booster station...I did it, Master. The bomb went off, but I managed to warn the Council in time."

"I reckoned as much. The Lu-Decati think they've succeeded, but if so many beings as Force-sensitive as the Council had died, every Jedi alive would have felt the loss."

"Who are they, Master?" Obi-Wan asked. "I know the general gossip, but who are they really?"

"Lu-Decat is a cell of zealously religious anarchists from Decat Prime who believe any use of the Force is a form of sorcery. In their religion, witchcraft and sorcery are evil, corrupt, and any such use is punishable by death, usually by the most painful and prolonged means available at the time."

Obi-Wan shivered, moaning at the resultant spasm of pain. "The floor...it's so cold."

Qui-Gon slid around until his back was against the nearest wall. He pulled Obi-Wan into his arms and slowly raised him until the youth's back pressed against his chest, his body cocooned between the Jedi Master's outstretched legs.

Raucous voices and drunken cheers floated into the room, growing louder. Qui-Gon tightened his arms around his young lover's shoulders, as though pressing the young man's back tight against his chest would lessen the danger coming towards them.

Obi-Wan opened his eyes and whispered, "They're coming."

"I hear them." Qui-Gon smiled down on his lover, his blue eyes alight with both pride and regret. "I love you, Obi-Wan Kenobi. And I am...so...very...proud of you. You are a true Jedi, and I am honored to be your Master."

The grin Obi-Wan gave back to him broke Qui-Gon's heart. In spite of their desperate situation, a mischievous twinkle lit the hazel eyes from within, and the joy of being in his lover's arms shone through.

"The next few hours..." Qui-Gon swallowed against the tightness in his throat and sighed, "they will not be pleasant."

Obi-Wan's soft smile never dimmed. "It doesn't matter what they plan for us, Master. I'm not afraid. We face it together."

A rough, calloused hand stroked the sandy-red hair. A knuckle brushed the smooth, young cheek. A thumb gently traced the upturned lips. Qui-Gon queried his command of the Force. He could gather a small portion, but not enough for any kind of successful resistance. It did, however, give him one option, to which Obi-Wan would no doubt object. He shielded his thoughts and smiled at his Padawan.

"So we will, my Padawan. So we will."

The lock released. The heavy door swung wide. Five Decati strode into the cell, bodies clad in mismatched bits of metal armor. He read menace in their every move. The largest of the five, the hulking brute who had kicked Obi-Wan upon his arrival, tucked his thumbs in his weapons belt and laughed at his prisoners' stoic expressions.

"So, Jedi sorcerers. It's time to pay for your sins. We have a special morning ahead of us."

Qui-Gon leaned forward. He kissed Obi-Wan's hair and stroked his shoulder beneath his tunic, an unmistakably sensual contact. The Decati muttered and shifted about. All of them lost their triumphant expressions.

"They seem upset, more so than usual," Obi-Wan commented.

"Same-sex relationships are almost as grievous a sin as sorcery."

"Then I suppose we are doubly damned," Obi-Wan said; the matter didn't seem to bother him unduly. "They can only kill us once, I suppose."

Qui-Gon huffed once in pleasant laughter. "We might as well be doubly damned for something we enjoy."

They kissed. Deeply. Drinking of each other's essence and love. Through touch of cheeks and lips, they said far more than words could express. Obi-Wan's eyes darkened, turned smoky gray, adoring and adorable. Qui-Gon laid his hand atop his lover's forehead, stroked his hair one last time, and whispered, "Sleep, my beloved."

"No..."

Eyes wide in dismay, Obi-Wan fought the Force-induced imperative. Qui-Gon repeated the command. He watched as his Padawan's eyes clouded and his eyelids drifted closed. By the time their captors realized anything was amiss, Qui-Gon had sent his companion into deepest slumber from which he would not awaken without assistance from a Force-experienced Healer of Jedi Knight. Come what may, he would spare one of them the tortures planned by their terrorist captors.

Qui-Gon did not resist when two Decati terrorists stepped forward and dragged him from the room. He voiced no protest as they threw him against a "Y"-shaped frame, to which they bound him with hoops of metal, soldered closed. He made no sound as first the hot soldering iron then the heated metal burned his wrists. He remained motionless, serene, even as they ripped away his clothing until only his boots remained. Not until his captors dragged Obi-Wan into the room by his heels did he show any sign of protest.

The Decati leader pointed to the unconscious Padawan. "Wake him."

"I cannot and would not, even if I had the power. You may torture me, but I will not allow you to do so to him."

"You are sorcerers. You will both die. How you die will be up to you. Wake him, Wizard, and I promise your death will come less painfully than it will if you don't."

"If you must blame someone, blame me. I am his Master, his teacher. He but follows the learnings of a lifetime sheltered within the Temple. If someone must pay for the corruption, then I will do so. The boy is blameless, and I will not allow you to cause him further pain."

"If you won't wake him, then we really don't need him, do we?"

The Decati leader nodded to one of his men, who in turn pressed a control on a nearby console. A box across the room opened. A torture sphere rose from the casing on maneuvering jets, their hiss and pop adding to its menace. Along its surface were two needles, several sharp points, and a barbed hook. The machine settled on the floor next to Obi-Wan's left calf. The droid deployed a spinning, serrated blade from a panel in its forward face.

Qui-Gon pulled against his restraints, fought to clear his mind, to summon enough Force to push the monstrosity away. He managed to throw it across the room but couldn't summon enough energy to slam it against a wall. When next the droid settled into place, his captors broke his every effort to concentrate with blows against his wounded leg. Unable to watch them mutilate his Padawan and bondmate, Qui-Gon closed his tear-filled eyes and turned away.

A ripple shot through the Force, bringing Qui-Gon's eyes to the far door. The portal glowed where the blades of five light sabers, three green, one blue, one gold, sliced through the metal. The material liquefied and flowed to the floor, leaving a gaping hole wide enough for three humans to enter shoulder-to-shoulder. Smoke billowed into the room. A vicious, multi-octaved, hum drowned out all other noises. A forest of glowing shafts of light appeared in the haze, moving closer, materializing into ten saber-armed Jedi.

Zealots to the extreme, the Lu-Decati gave no thought to any possibility of surrender. Within seconds, blaster fire and buzzing sabers filled the room. From his unshielded perch, Qui-Gon could only watch and pray none of the bolts came his way. Obi-Wan should be safe enough on the floor, but even so, he was more vulnerable than his Master liked. He squinted through the smoke haze, blinked against the brightness of electrical fires and shorted circuits in the wall consoles, and struggled to identify the rescue party.

Mace Windu's tall form was readily recognizable, and first through the door. To his left, stood Master Gerosin and his Padawan, a fluid, elfin Vinerite. To his right strode Knights Al-Mitak, Cu Mi Utan, and Selma Boll. Close behind them stepped three other Masters, each with Padawans at their sides. In all twelve saber-armed Jedi materialized out of the gray haze. Qui-Gon sensed others waiting unseen in the corridor beyond.

A sensation of warmth flowed across his bare skin. The air around him tightened, pressurized. Every hair on his body stood on end. Qui-Gon recognized his former Master's mind-touch. Though his great age prevented Yoda from participating in the physical fight, his strength in the Force allowed him to cast a shield around Qui-Gon. Random blaster fire bounced off the protection. Obi-Wan slept through the raging battle, sheltered under an identical Force dome.

The terrorists fought with fanatical conviction, but they stood no chance against the superior forces of the Jedi. Within moments, they were disarmed and bound, and given into the care of three Knights for transport to the nearest holding facility.

Mace deactivated his weapon and jumped onto the raised base. Recalibrating his saber to its lowest setting, he cut through the bindings that held his friend immobile. Qui-Gon moaned as the strain left his arms. He slumped into Mace's strong arms and sank gratefully to his knees. Trembling, he grasped his friend's hand in greeting. The dark-skinned Jedi removed his cloak and belted it around Qui-Gon's naked form.

"You've never looked more beautiful, old friend," Qui-Gon said. Yoda stepped forward, his cane tapping firmly against the floor; Qui-Gon offered a weary bow to his old Master and asked, "How did you find us?"

"Thank the technicians at the booster station, you can."

Mace took the explanation a step further, saying, "When the Lu-Decat terrorists left with your apprentice, one of the techs activated a remote camera-droid, set it for clandestine mode, and sent it after the group. All we had to do was track its transmission to find the groups' hiding place."

"Remind me to thank him."

Three Healers, among them Master Healer J'jinnisti'ta, swarmed around Obi-Wan. Two others tried to light next to Qui-Gon, but the Jedi Master waved them away. After a moment's struggle against his own weakness, he accepted Mace's help over to his Padawan's side. Yoda rapped him across the back with his stick and barked, "Treat you, they will. Argue not." Only then did Qui-Gon relent and allow the healers to treat his wound.

Master Healer J'jinnisti'ta rocked on his two stubbly legs, his leathery, pear-shaped body almost comical inside the pale Healer's robe. His long arms swayed over the sleeping apprentice, the end of his first digit glowing as he scanned the youth. With a purr characteristic of his race, the Master Healer elongated his neck and swiveled his oversized head toward Qui-Gon.

"Master Jinn, do you know why he's unconscious?"

"I sent him into level three Force-sleep."

Over his head, Yoda and Mace exchanged a long, knowing look and a shared glance toward the room's obscene furnishings. Yoda broke his enigmatic reserve long enough to soften his expression and add a lilt of reassurance to his voice. "Fine your Padawan will be, Qui-Gon Jinn. Rest. Tend to him, we will. Protect you both, we will. Earned it, you have."

Qui-Gon gathered his sleeping lover into his arms, kissed his forehead, and gratefully surrendered their safety to their Jedi brethren.

{FINIS}

Dedicated to Iroshi, who dragged me kicking and screaming into TPM. It's all her fault.