Category: First time, angst, usual AU aspect of Qui-Gon not dying

Archive: Yes, to this list's archives. All others, please ask.

Summary: What happens when a bond is not equal?

Notes: This story has been in an editor's hold box for at least a year, and I've decided it was time to get it out of there. There's nothing particularly original about it, especially now, but it wasn't fresh when I wrote it. It grew out of a scene in "Letters" where Obi-Wan briefly suffers the effects of the bond he shares with Qui-Gon being out of balance. I wondered what would happen if the lack of balance were permanent, and this is the result. 

Obi-Wan Kenobi shivered at the sound of the door sliding closed. The beginning of his end. He wanted to break down and sob, but he had no time. Those long strides of Qui-Gon's would only be curbed so much to compensate for the length of Anakin's legs as the man led their way to the landing platform. Led the way to the ship that would take Qui-Gon far from Obi-Wan. He shivered at the thought of what was to come, but he had accepted his fate. All that was left was to embrace it.

Obi-Wan had cleansed himself inside and out already. He'd wanted no messes left behind, no distasteful duties to be performed by others. As the first pain snaked through him, he stripped off his robe, then put on his newest leggings and tunic, the boots with the fewest signs of wear and his best cloak.

Walking had become difficult by the time he'd finished dressing, but he managed to stumble to the bed. He paused long enough to set his lightsaber on the coverlet a few inches below where his feet would soon rest, then lay down, settling his arms as they would be for a Jedi placed upon the pyre.

Though ready to die, he waited, fought and channeled the pain while Qui-Gon's ship lifted off and rose into Coruscant's traffic patterns. As long as he could stay conscious, he wanted to experience a world where Qui-Gon lived, but when blackness beckoned, he would release the last of his life energy, allowing the Living Force to take him.

His readings had assured him Qui-Gon would not follow. If he were killed, their soul-bond severed suddenly and violently, Qui-Gon would die with him, but if he kept his shields strong and simply let himself fade away, Qui-Gon would not only live, but he would be whole again, not trapped in this travesty of a bond. "Live and love, my Qui-Gon," he whispered. Force willing, they would find each other again one day.

Time no longer of concern, he did not know how long he lay on the bed, the pain growing to a degree he'd never felt before. He couldn't channel it all into the Force, and soft moans began to keen from within. Even braced against it, the moment the ship entered hyperspace ripped a scream from him that all but shredded his vocal cords. Between that scream and the next, he released his hold on life.

Naboo: Three Months Ago

The two halves of the Sith's body tumble into the melting pit. Satisfied no Dark Force trick would restore his foe, Obi-Wan deactivated his Master's lightsaber, then ran to Qui-Gon Jinn.

He could feel the life energy fading from his Master as he cradled Qui-Gon's head and shoulders in his arms. Although not a Healer, all Jedi had training in the healing arts, and Obi-Wan quickly began sending restorative energy into the dying man.

"It's too late ... too late."

"No," he pleaded, doubling his efforts. Dimly he heard Qui-Gon beg him to train Anakin Skywalker as Qui-Gon had planned to do. Though hardly the final words a young man in love wanted to hear, he agreed, nodding even as tears spilled down his cheeks, all while he continued to send the Force surging into the gaping wound in Qui-Gon's chest.

He could save him. He could. Fine repairs would require a bacta tank and Healers, but he knew how to mend the worst of it, how to keep the damned stubborn heart he adored beating. Draining, but simple work in many ways. Yet for some reason he was failing, Qui-Gon slipping further and further into the Force. The Living Force.

The flow of the healing energy connecting them, he could hear the song calling to his Master, music that had seldom been more than a whisper in his own mind. Now, it was a roar in his ears, calling enticingly for Qui-Gon to merge with its Oneness. Obi-Wan faltered. Should he respect the song? His Master's desire to join it?

Qui-Gon's hand caressed his cheek in a final gesture of farewell, and Obi-Wan knew he was not strong enough to allow this. He needed Qui-Gon. Blind to anything but that need, he poured everything he had into his Master's life force. Absolutely everything.

Qui-Gon woke with a start and found himself lying on a bed, staring up at an unknown ceiling. What?

"Be at peace Padawan mine," a familiar, soothing voice comforted him, while a small hand caressed his forehead.

"Master," he whispered, turning his head enough to look at the small wizened Jedi sitting on the bed next to Qui-Gon's pillow. It was Yoda's usual place to sit when his Padawan needed attention and Qui-Gon almost lost his sense of time and reality. Almost, for a warm, solid weight resting against him kept the years from fading away.

"How feel you?" Yoda asked.

"Tired," he answered, absently petting his own Padawan's soft hair. He frowned when neither his touch nor his voice inspired Obi-Wan to move. "Padawan?"

"Healing sleep he is in. Lost you both we almost did."

The words would have had a matter-of-fact sound to anyone else, but Qui-Gon knew his former Master all too well and could hear the remnants of fear in the voice. "But Obi-Wan was not injured." Or was he? The fall from the catwalk. ...

"No, but gave to you all his life energy he did. Died with you he would have, but chose to live you did." Yoda gave Qui-Gon another pat on the forehead as if to reward him for the cleverness of opting not to die.

As Yoda said the words, on some level he became aware of what had happened. He had wanted to stay with Obi-Wan, but his time had come and he had accepted the will of the Force. Then he'd felt Obi-Wan merging their life energies and had known to go to his fate would be to prematurely take his Padawan with him. Nothing had ever hurt as much as resisting the beauty of the Living Force's call, but Obi-Wan was more important than eternity. "He will live then."

Yoda nodded. "Both of you will live, but changed much has."

He was almost afraid to ask, but then he felt the difference within himself and no longer needed to question. "By the Force, a soul-bond."

Another nod. "Great is his love for you. Greater than any of us knew. Initiated the soul-bond he did to anchor himself to your fate. Or Healers theory it is."

"He forced a soul-bond?" His hasty words earned him a look from Yoda that in his Padawan days had meant extra meditations.

"Impossible you know that is. Not the only one hiding love was Obi-Wan."

Qui-Gon blushed. Something he hadn't done in a good twenty years. Not since he was Obi-Wan's age. Oh, Force. "I am too old for him."

Age was a very relative thing to his 900 years plus Master, so the shrug of the small shoulders did not surprise him. "Agrees with you he does not. Will of the Force this is."

His grip on Obi-Wan's body tightened further. "He'll die when I do." So young, so full of life, the thought of it all ending an instant before it should have made his heart ache. "How can that be anything but some wretched cosmic mistake?"

Yoda's manner softened and the hand began to pet him again. "Die you will when he does also. Life of a Jedi never certain it is. Accept this you must. Change it you cannot."

No, he couldn't. A soul-bond was one of the few absolutes in the universe. The Jedi believed not even death could break it, while only misery resulted from fighting it. A part of him even rejoiced he would never be separated from Obi-Wan. Yet he could not help but mourn. Life on this plane was so fleeting, and if it had been right, they would have found each other again once Obi-Wan had joined with the Force as well. To deprive him of a moment of life seemed an obscenity to Qui-Gon, but he must accept. What was done was done. And he did love Obi-Wan. So very much.

Obi-Wan was afraid to wake up. His last memory was of his beloved Master slipping away, leaving him to a long lonely life and a responsibility to a boy who he could not help but see as a rival. How could he endure such an existence? No, he did not want to wake up and find himself in the midst of it.

Yet slowly a voice began to penetrate the protective fog he'd drawn around his mind. /Obi-Wan,/ it called. /Come back to me, my love./ In time he recognized it as Qui-Gon. For a while he listened to the siren voice, but then the desire to point out he had not been the one trying to leave won out over his fear this was all some sort of dream.

/Master./

/Yes, my Obi-Wan, I am here. Come to me./

/You didn't leave me?/

/Never, beloved. We will be together always./

/Promise./

/I promise./

Obi-Wan opened his eyes. The length of a healing center bed spread out before him and he smiled to see a second pair of feet next to his own. A hand was stroking his hair, while a heartbeat sounded in the chest beneath his ear. "Master."

The hand paused, then shifted to his shoulder, urging him upward. He obeyed and quickly found himself in Qui-Gon's embrace. "My Obi-Wan."

He could sense the normally powerful body beneath him was not at full strength, but his Master seemed far from frail and even further from the specter of death. He'd done it. He'd stolen Qui-Gon back from the Force. "I'm sorry," he whispered, pressing his forehead against his Master's neck. "I know you wanted ... but ... I couldn't. ..."

"Hush, my love." A kiss pressed against the top of his head. "I have no regrets."

The falsehood struck Obi-Wan like a fist to his jaw, and he had to bite his lip to keep from crying out. He'd known Qui-Gon would not thank him for his interference, might even come to despise him for the weakness that had left him unable to yield to the will of the Force, but it did not make the reality of it easier to endure. He tasted his own blood, used it to focus himself enough to hide his shame from their training-bond.

Once under control, he tried to think, then noticed something. "Master, why am I in bed with you?"

Another kiss. "Is there somewhere else you'd rather be?"

He blushed. "I –"

"No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't tease you when you are disoriented. Focus within you, Padawan. Your answer is there."

Puzzled, he did as Qui-Gon had instructed and found. ... His eyes widened, and he rose up so he could see the other man's face. "Master?"

Qui-Gon smiled and only a fool could have missed the love shining in his eyes. "Not merely your Master, my beloved, but your bondmate as well."

Joy made his heart pound. They had soul-bonded. Qui-Gon loved him. He loved him! "How? ..."

A slight frown replaced Qui-Gon's smile, and his thumb ran along Obi-Wan's lip. "What's this?"

"I ... must have bitten my lip in my sleep," he said, not willing to speak of what he sensed deep within Qui-Gon. At least not for the moment.

"You must be more careful. I do not like seeing you hurt."

He smiled shyly. "Yes, Master. Perhaps. ..."

"Yes?"

"You could kiss it and make it better?"

Qui-Gon smiled. "I believe I have the strength to manage that." Then his lips were pressed against Obi-Wan's.

Better than his dreams, and he had dreamed of this so often. "Master. ..." he whispered when their lips parted.

"My Obi-Wan. You saved me."

By soul-bonding with him. It was the only thing that made sense. He felt a brief flash of fear. Had he somehow forced a bond?

The arms around him tightened and a rueful chuckle sounded in his ear. "You are too much like your Master in the way you think, beloved. A soul-bond can never be forced. It can only be welcomed and cherished."

Yes, that was right. Silly of him to forget, but he felt so off balance. He started to relax, then remembered. "If that is true, why do I sense such regret within you?"

The broad chest rose, then fell in a sigh. "It seems I forgot we can have no secrets from one another. I love you, Obi-Wan, you must never doubt that, but my age. ..."

Oh. He carefully considered his words for a moment, then said, "My life is nothing without you. I feel nothing but joy at the knowledge I will never have to live without you."

A moment, then, "Yes, I merely need time to accept the similar joy within myself is not the emotion of a selfish, foolish old man."

Obi-Wan glared at Qui-Gon. "You will have that time, but don't you ever call yourself that again."

Qui-Gon laughed and Obi-Wan caught the notion his most fierce glower was striking his bondmate as cute.

"You'll pay for that, Master," he grumped, settling back down to sleep against the warm, solid chest. "Soon as I wake up."

Another hug. "I will look forward to it. Now, sleep, my Obi-Wan."

Knowing sleep also pulled at his Master, Obi-Wan obeyed, but the oddest thought followed him into slumber. Qui-Gon had said they could have no more secrets, yet his Master had not noticed he'd lied about his bitten lip. How strange. ...

Qui-Gon woke to find Anakin Skywalker sitting at their bedside. He smiled at the boy and held out the hand not currently busy holding Obi-Wan snug against his chest.

The hand that took his was so small. He'd never attempted to take on a Padawan this young, and, to his knowledge, no one had ever trained anyone this old and inexperienced with the Force. Life and irony. At nine Anakin seemed both too young and too old, but somehow, Qui-Gon was certain they could succeed in forging the boy into a great Jedi Knight. But first. ...

"I hear you blew up the ship."

The blond head nodded and the boy started to grin, but at the last minute he sensed trouble. "You ... told me to stay in the cockpit."

"So I did." No point in arguing. Those had been his exact words. "It would seem the first lesson we must work on is to respect the meaning as well as the precise wording of an order."

A flush answered him. The boy looked away, then one of those 'meanings behind words' must have penetrated. His head snapped back around and blue eyes glowing with hope met his gaze. "First lesson."

"Yes, Padawan. First lesson."

"But Master Yoda. ..."

"Is a stubborn gnome," he answered, opting not to censor his words given how much pain the Council and Yoda had caused the boy. "But he will come to love you soon enough. He takes great delight in spoiling my Padawans."

"Why would he do that?"

"He was my Master, Ani, and considers it his sworn duty to make my life as ... interesting as possible."

That made him giggle.

"Be yourself. He won't be able to resist."

"I'm really your Padawan?"

Qui-Gon nodded, then watched Ani's gaze shift to Obi-Wan. "He has been declared a Knight. Something about defeating a Sith and saving his Master impressed the Council."

Another giggle. "He won't mind then?"

"That you are my Padawan? Not at all." He'd seen that through their bond. Obi-Wan was prepared to like Ani, even to help train him, now that his own place in Qui-Gon's life had been secured. Ah, his poor Obi-Wan. For a skilled negotiator, Qui-Gon had not handled the situation with the Council well. The pain he'd caused his beloved shamed him, reminded him he must ever be mindful two, not one, had claim to his attention. "But you must understand, Ani, that he will be a part of both our lives. He is my bondmate now."

"Bondmate?"

Qui-Gon smiled. "A Jedi forms many bonds through friendship and love. The strongest of all is called a soul-bond, and that is what Obi-Wan and I share."

Ani studied both of them. "Then ... it's like you're married."

"Yes."

"Okay," he answered with the typical level of enthusiasm of a child confronted with matters of romance and love.

"You and I have our own bond to form," he went on.

This earned him a suspicious look that made him laugh, and Obi-Wan stirred against him. He sent a wave of reassurance through their bond, hoping Obi-Wan would continue to sleep. Such deep exhaustion. The Healers had told Qui-Gon it was nothing to worry about, but he found it difficult not to.

"What sort of bond?" Anakin asked, reclaiming his attention.

"A training-bond. It allows me to know how you are feeling, to find you when you are in need of me. When within a certain radius of one another, we will even be able to speak with our minds."

To his surprise Anakin paled. "You'll be able to read my thoughts? Find me?"

Qui-Gon cursed himself. This whole Naboo situation had not seen him at his best, and he was not improving. The boy had been a slave. Secrecy was survival, and a tracking device had been the very symbol of his slavery.

/You probably need to sit up to handle this,/ Obi-Wan told him through their bond. /I'll move with you, but I refuse to wake up./

/Thank you, my love,/ he thought back and shifted upward, got the wall to his back, then Obi-Wan snuggled up to him. He pressed a kiss to the top of the head resting on his shoulder, then turned his attention back to his Padawan. "A bond is many things, Ani. What you and I will have will build on respect and guidance, but, like all bonds, it is also a symbol of trust. I have no desire to invade the privacy of your mind, and shielding against mental intrusions – even mine – will be among your first lessons."

"You won't read my mind?"

He shook his head. "I am not a slave owner seeking a means of control over you. I am your teacher and your mental welfare is as important as your physical to me. A bond is a sacred trust. One we must both honor."

Ani smiled slightly. "So no building racing pods without telling you?"

Qui-Gon laughed. "Something like that."

"Okay, I guess I can try it."

"Good. Now close your eyes, and think of something peaceful like a breeze blowing over the sand." He waited, sensing, then Anakin's mind relaxed, opening. Qui-Gon reached out with his own and carefully wove the link between them, then gently drew the boy into it. /Can you hear me?/

/... Yes./

Qui-Gon settled back and let Anakin play with their bond. The boy poked at it, tried to push it away, pulled it close, moved around the room trying to find where the limits were for being able to mind-talk versus sending nothing but impressions -- in other words, the usual. Qui-Gon did nothing, but answer or radiate approval, even when a few of those pokes gave him a touch of a headache.

Obi-Wan tensed in his arms at the small stabs of pain and Qui-Gon felt him coiling to put a stop to it. Shielding his bond with Obi-Wan from Anakin, he growled, /Don't even think about it./

/He's hurting you./

/New Padawans are like newborns, they have to try everything. It's best to let them get it over with./

/But –/

/You were no different. Now, hush, and let the boy enjoy himself./

Obi-Wan sulked, but did not intervene. He continued to sulk and feign sleep for the remainder of Anakin's visit and gave every indication he had no intention of stopping once they were alone. Fortunately, the Force had provided Qui-Gon with a perfect way to put an end to such nonsense.

The moment the door closed behind Anakin, Qui-Gon pulled Obi-Wan up even further and kissed him. Hard.

Obi-Wan melted. Unfortunately, one of the Healers chose that moment to enter.

Qui-Gon sighed. /Patience,/ he answered the mental wail sounding in his mind. He was fairly certain it had been Obi-Wan's, but he understood the feeling. /We have forever now./ That made them both smile. Forever. Together.

Obi-Wan allowed himself to be coaxed back to sleep, then woke to find everything quiet. His awareness of time and his reading of Naboo's cycles told him it was a few hours before dawn which explained the peacefulness of the moment. He rose up on one elbow to study his sleeping Master's face. So beautiful. And his. Strange how fate worked. He owed his happiness to a Sith's murderous act. Beauty from ugliness, love from hate.

/You should have written the Code, beloved,/ Qui-Gon's voice whispered in his mind as midnight blue eyes opened. /You have the flair for it./

He smiled, but he didn't want to talk, not even with his mind. He wanted. ... They kissed, but this time neither sleep nor visitor interrupted to cool the fires burning within him.

/Obi-Wan, this is not wise,/ Qui-Gon cautioned, but kissed him again.

/Please. .../ He didn't even know what he was asking for. They were both recovering from their ordeal. Qui-Gon was right, they should not expend the energy recovered, but ... he needed. Oh, Force, how he needed.

A gentle chuckle within his mind, then large hands loosened the ties of Obi-Wan's sleep pants and pushed them down to rest around his thighs. He groaned loudly, arching against Qui-Gon when those same wonderful hands squeezed his bare buttocks. No one had ever. ...

/Obi-Wan?/

He hid his face against Qui-Gon's neck. /Your touch or no one's./ He'd waited, he'd hoped, but almost from the moment they'd met, he'd known, Qui-Gon or no one. Ever.

/I am honored,/ he answered, his arms tightening around Obi-Wan. Soft words, a loving touch, but the near horror Qui-Gon felt at almost leaving Obi-Wan to such a joyless, lonely life snaked through their bond.

/My choice to wait, as it was your choice to stay with me, my love./

/Yes. One of my wisest decisions./ He pulled Obi-Wan from his hiding place and kissed him. /My love, my life./ Qui-Gon dealt with his own sleeping garb, then settled Obi-Wan on top of him, their groins pressing together. /Move with me, my Obi-Wan. Move./

A low sound somewhere between a purr and a moan sounded within Obi-Wan as he matched the gentle thrusts of the body beneath him. Heat to heat, hardness caressing hardness, so good. So very good.

Moisture flowed between them, then Obi-Wan climaxed as well on a wave of pleasure as slow and delicious as the love making that had led to it. He sighed his release into Qui-Gon's kiss. His body heavy, his mind pulled at him for sleep. He wanted to stay awake, to. ...

/No, sleep, beloved. I will care for you. Sleep./

He had no real choice, but to obey. So tired, but he mustered enough energy for one irritated pout. He wanted to take care of Qui-Gon, not the other way around.

Soft, affectionate laughter, then /Soon, my Obi-Wan. Your time will come soon enough./

It had better.

A mere three days after the battle with the Sith the Healers declared there was no longer any reason for the Jedi to stay in bed or draped across one another. 'Ah, the wonders of love and bacta,' Qui-Gon thought as he wrapped his arms around Obi-Wan. For while he might not require contact with his bondmate, he had little desire to be separated from the delicious heat of his body, the scent of his skin, the --

"One would get the impression you favor my charms, Qui-Gon Jinn."

Enjoying the rush of feeling whole and strong again, Qui-Gon nipped at the tempting flesh along the crease of neck and shoulder.

Obi-Wan yelped at the small hurt, then laughed as a repentant bondmate soothed it. It seemed his love found it quite a heady feeling to have a Jedi Master wrapped around his finger -- Qui-Gon had to be mindful that he not allow Obi-Wan to become intoxicated by it.

Sighing softly, Obi-Wan reached up and caressed the silken strands of Qui-Gon's hair. "We have to prepare for the celebration, Qui-Gon."

Qui-Gon. Not Master. Obi-Wan was a Knight now and no longer technically had a Master. But he would address Qui-Gon as such, frequently, as Qui-Gon continued to call Yoda Master decades beyond the day he had attained his own Knighthood. Yes, he would call him Master often, but knew Qui-Gon did not like it when Obi-Wan referred to him as such when they were being intimate. One of many would be secrets that the bond had denied Qui-Gon. Like the braid.

Even as he licked, kissed and nibbled Obi-Wan's flesh, Qui-Gon's hand caressed the braid draped over the neglected shoulder and tried to find some sense of regret it remained after the Knighting Ceremony. No Padawan was required to cut it off upon becoming a Knight, but all did. Except for Obi-Wan.

His beautiful bondmate had caught the image of how much Qui-Gon liked the way it looked on him and opted to keep it. Qui-Gon had been most indignant, and damnit, he'd tried to bury the image as deeply as he knew how. But he was an open book to Obi-Wan now, and the young man was eager to please him. Or as he had put it, such gestures were proof Qui-Gon wasn't the only one wrapped around someone's finger.

"Hmm?" he murmured, the sound vibrating against Obi-Wan's skin.

"I said, we have to get ready for the celebration."

"Nonsense, they don't need us for at least an hour," he answered, scooping up Obi-Wan and carrying him over to the bed. That was one of Obi-Wan's unsuccessfully hidden secrets – he loved being carried off to bed. Qui-Gon had obliged him twice already this morning.

His token protests overridden by his masterful Master, Obi-Wan eagerly pulled Qui-Gon down to lie on top of him. The kiss that followed made Qui-Gon's head spin. His bondmate had proven to be a fast learner.

"What about Anakin?" Obi-Wan whispered when their lips parted.

Oh, yes. /Padawan,/ Qui-Gon called through the training-bond.

/Yes, Master?/

/Now would be a good time to work on winning over Master Yoda./ Not that it would take much more. As he had predicted, Anakin was well on his way to charming the gnome.

/Sure thing. See you later./

Something about the mind behind the response made Qui-Gon think his nine-year-old charge was not nearly as naive about what Qui-Gon might be doing with Obi-Wan as a normal child his age. Hazards of being a former slave, he imagined, and made a mental note to himself to have the boy talk with the Healers about his past.

/Wise, my love, and I will be certain to remind you,/ the deeper bond with Obi-Wan sounded, /but for now I require your attention./

Qui-Gon chuckled. "And what else is it you require of me, my Obi-Wan?" Force save him, the boy blushed. "Ah, time for that is it?"

Obi-Wan glared at him, and Qui-Gon did his best not to think it was cute again, but it really did remind him of an Alterian swamp kitten he'd taken care of once. All blustery outside, but hungry for love and attention on the inside.

"I am not cute."

"Of course, not my love," Qui-Gon answered dutifully, then proceeded to kiss his bondmate senseless before he got himself into real trouble.

They had celebrated their bond with physical love in the Healing Center, but Obi-Wan wanted more. Something very specific.

But first he cherished the young man beneath him. Worshiped him with lips and hands in a gentle quest of discovery Qui-Gon doubted he'd ever tire of.

Obi-Wan gasped, sighed, moaned and wiggled. Finally he begged, "Qui-Gon, please!"

Eyes wide with love and lust, his skin flushed with arousal and Qui-Gon's efforts, Obi-Wan was a sight to tempt stone. Qui-Gon found it difficult not to push him harder, to make him beg longer, but he could also sense Obi-Wan needed to consummate the bond and had decided only one specific act would achieve his goal.

In a use of the Force that would astound those who thought of Jedi as passionless eunuchs, he guided the energy to slowly open and relax Obi-Wan's muscles. He could have used his fingers, but they were busy playing with pert nipples while his lips returned to their earlier meal of Obi-Wan neck. Delicious.

"Mas – Qui-Gon!" Obi-Wan was writhing beneath him, his hands grasping Qui-Gon's shoulders with a bruising strength.

He smiled against the soft, abused skin. That particular application of the Force had some lovely tingling side effects, but his lover obviously wanted something with more substance. "All right, my Obi-Wan. You shall have what you want." He helped lift the muscular legs out of the way, propping them over his shoulders, then riding a fluid wave of Force, he eased his cock into Obi-Wan's body.

Eyes went even wider. "Oh."

Such a small word to describe such huge feelings. They flooded into Qui-Gon via their bond. Love, possession, pleasure, excitement and more swarmed together in an emotional intimacy that merged and cherished. He cried out, his body struggling not to give way to the ecstasy curling through his mind. But Obi-Wan was so tight, so hot, his soul so beautiful. With a groan he came, then collapsed.

To his relief he felt an answering dampness on his belly. At least Obi-Wan had enjoyed it enough to find his own release. Little thanks to his own skill as a lover.

/No, that was beautiful. It was. .../ Obi-Wan clung to him, his determination to keep them joined pulsing through the bond.

/Hush, beloved. We are always together now. Do not allow the physical to blind you to the mental./

His words should have soothed and reassured, but to his surprise, he felt a surge of denial. "Obi-Wan?"

The emotion vanished in a flash, and probing did not find it again. "I'm all right," Obi-Wan whispered. A slight smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "Just overwhelmed."

Qui-Gon frowned. Something felt off, but nothing he could pinpoint.

"Please, my Qui-Gon. I've never. ..."

Ah, perhaps that was it, he decided at the hesitant reminder Obi-Wan had entered the bond without sexual experience. His heart's desire, a first time for a very intimate act and a Force pleasure loop, all a great deal to cope with at the same time. He released his doubts into the Force, smiled, then cuddled Obi-Wan close.

"I'm hungry." Obi-Wan pouted. He was more than hungry, he felt half-starved, but they were back in their rooms on Coruscant, and that meant one of them had to get out of bed to forage in their miserable kitchen for food. A daunting task after the last few hours.

"Poor, Obi-Wan. It seems the stamina of youth isn't all it's reputed to be."

He resisted the urge to stick out his tongue at his bondmate. "I am not tired; I am sated. There is a difference."

"Whatever you say, my love."

Obi-Wan shot him a glare, then curled up against his chest and started doing his impression of a purr. For almost an hour they both pointedly ignored the rumblings of their stomachs, but finally Qui-Gon sighed. "I have meditated on the matter, my Obi-Wan, and I have come to the conclusion it is highly unlikely food will spontaneously appear at our bedside."

He couldn't help but smile. Even if he did want to pout some more. He hated it when Qui-Gon was out of his clutches. Ah, well. He sighed. "Very well, oh, wise Master. Perhaps the Force has shown you were food might be found?" In other words – 'you go get it.'

Qui-Gon responded with grumble, a hug, a kiss on the top of Obi-Wan's head, then he got out of bed. Nothing was said about the fact sex did seem to take more out of Obi-Wan than him for they both knew Obi-Wan found it embarrassing. They'd made love like Wookiees in heat for days, but Obi-Wan could not adjust to the onslaught of sensations. Or rather, he could not adjust to their absence.

Another kiss, this one on his forehead. "Perhaps you were not meant to, my love. I see no harm in it provided we are cautious about when we leave you in such a vulnerable state. And it pleases me to pamper you."

Obi-Wan smiled. "I love you." Lips pressed to his. "Now, go get me some food."

"Yes, Master," Qui-Gon answered with a smirk and headed out of their bedroom without so much as pulling on his robe. Thank the Force Anakin was with Yoda. The two had become practically inseparable since Yoda had journeyed to Naboo to investigate the fallen Sith under the guise of attending the victory celebration. Given Master Yoda's mischievous streak, he had no doubts Qui-Gon had many more grey hairs in his immediate future.

He smiled, then flinched slightly. He felt uncomfortable out of Qui-Gon's arms. There were some things even the most ardent of lovers preferred to do alone, so he'd accepted the discomfort and learned to consider it a part of himself, but as Qui-Gon moved towards the kitchen, it occurred to Obi-Wan they'd not been this far apart since they'd bonded.

Pain, manageable, but pain nonetheless, began to replace discomfort. He wanted to call out for Qui-Gon to come back or to pry himself from the bed and go to him, but he didn't move, didn't allow a mental cry to form. Something far more dire held his attention. Protective of Qui-Gon by nature, he had instinctively shielded him from the pain and ... it had worked.

Qui-Gon could not sense his pain. Nor was he in pain of his own. The Healers had said the bond had stabilized, and he could sense Qui-Gon moving about with nothing more than the wistful desire to return to Obi-Wan as soon as he could. Oh, Force.

It hurt. Sith, it hurt. His heart was being pulled from his chest, asked to keep his body alive from another room. 'No, please, Qui-Gon. Please. Hurts. Hurts. Hurts.'

Darkness beckoned, but he fought it, part of him screaming he must not let Qui-Gon know. He hurt too much to understand, but he obeyed his inner voice and held on to both consciousness and his shields. Sweat dampened his skin and a scream clawed at his throat for release, then. ...

It stopped. Pain back to discomfort, discomfort diminishing. His sense of Qui-Gon told him his bondmate was returning to their bed. It would be a split second thing, but he gathered his strength and as Qui-Gon reached the door, he pulled a healing wave of the Force through his body, restoring his color and enough of his strength to earn a smile when Qui-Gon entered the room.

"Not much for all that effort," Qui-Gon said holding up a tray laden with some cheese and a few dubious looking crackers. "But it should give us the strength to go out for more later."

Obi-Wan forced a smile, one that became more genuine when Qui-Gon settled on the bed and their flesh touched. "Wise as well as handsome," he said picking up a slice of cheese. "I am a fortunate man."

But damned all the same.

It was one of those times when being the Master wasn't all it was cracked up to be. Qui-Gon sighed and wondered – not for the first time – if he were being an idiot.

He had a beautiful young bondmate who craved his company and sought to be with him as often as possible. Hardly something to complain about, and he would be the first to admit that he preferred having Obi-Wan close. But. ... When Temple life did demand separation, Obi-Wan stayed in their rooms and did not seek the company of his friends. That bothered Qui-Gon. It didn't seem healthy.

Obi-Wan was the light of his soul and daily he thanked the Force his own light blazed as brightly for Obi-Wan, but his bondmate was also a Knight and a man with many friends. He should be screaming for his first mission, be out celebrating his Knighthood, not pining away for Qui-Gon's return.

A sigh lifted then lowered his shoulders. Pining was his word, an image pulled into his imagination by flights of fancy not by anything he sensed within Obi-Wan. Every mental probe, every glance told him all was as Obi-Wan wished it, and that his bondmate was content. People changed. Obi-Wan would not be the first bonded-Jedi to find he cared little for the company of anyone other than his mate. Nor would he be the first who did not want to draw a solo mission and leave his bondmate behind.

So why couldn't he trust his senses? Worse, why were those senses telling him not to trust the bond?

Maddening pressure, sweat on his brow, teetering on the edge of shock, but no worse than he had been for the past hour.

Obi-Wan sat on the floor in the bedroom he shared with Qui-Gon. His bondmate was with Anakin, teaching the boy lightsaber fundamentals, while Obi-Wan had been all but ordered to have lunch with his friends.

He hadn't gone, of course. Later he would point out to Qui-Gon his close friends were all off on missions leaving him with no one he particularly wished to socialize with. He knew it would work for Qui-Gon put his faith in a bond he believed left all of Obi-Wan's thoughts and feelings open to him. It shamed Obi-Wan to use that faith against him, but he had no other choice.

At the moment even standing was far beyond him. But he was surviving. Wrapped in a robe heavy with Qui-Gon's scent and Force signature, disbursing as much of his pain into the Force as he dared without risking detection, he was not only surviving, but conscious and aware. That gave him an odd sense of pleasure.

A month's worth of work had gotten him to the point where his Master could go anywhere in the Temple and Obi-Wan could keep the pain at bay. It was there, of course. Fifty feet was the farthest Qui-Gon could go from him without the pain setting in. The farther the distance, the greater the pain. But he'd learned to embrace it, then ease it into the Force with a smooth enough flow to keep others from sensing anything was wrong with him.

A triumph. And a complete failure. They were Jedi. Already they had spent more time on Coruscant than they ever had before – a bow to the remedial training Anakin required before functioning as a full Padawan. But he was a Knight, and his own first mission was inevitable. Fifty feet? What about fifty parsecs?

His stomach clenched and his throat tightened over a whimper at the very thought. 'Live in the moment,' he repeated Qui-Gon's advice on so many things. 'This moment is not fifty parsecs away. Deal with what is. Deal with what is.'

He pried his eyes open, then focused on the datapad in front of him. In the six weeks since they'd returned from Naboo, he had become an expert on soul-bonds, had even figured out what must have happened. Almost all of Qui-Gon's life energy had been pulled into the hungry maw of the Living Force. Obi-Wan had grounded what was left with the soul-bond, but he'd also used his own life force to animate what should have been an all but lifeless husk. Between the two of them, there was essentially only enough left for one to live, but the life energy, while Obi-Wan's, lived in Qui-Gon and somehow they both lived. But the farther Qui-Gon was from him, the greater the strain for the energy flow to complete the transfer. The remnants of his own energy now sought to flee his body and re-join with what was now Qui-Gon's. Fortunately a side effect of the imbalance was that Qui-Gon's mind was open to his, while Obi-Wan could keep many secrets.

It was not some fantastic theory. He'd found references in the old archives to it having happened before -- once when the Jedi were new and twice more in the three centuries prior to Master Yoda's birth. Because he had, in essence, rejected his life energy when he sent it into Qui-Gon, it would resist any and all effort to return it to him. The one time it had been successfully done, the shock had killed both bondmates. That was unacceptable.

No, he had to learn to live with this. On his own, for he would not trap his beloved at his side. Try as he might, he could not forget the regret that lingered in the back of Qui-Gon's mind. He could not endure the thought of how the man would react once he discovered fifty feet was the limit. A prison of love remained a prison, and Obi-Wan would not allow it.

Pain was as much a part of his life now as was his foot or his arm. He would learn to cope with it. Would find a way to endure five hundred parsecs with the same acceptance as he had fifty-one feet. He would. By the Force, he would.

The sun was setting when Qui-Gon returned from his meeting across the city. Unfortunately, when said city covered the entire Sith-be damned planet 'across the city' often meant, and in this case did, halfway around the world. A diplomatic luncheon at the Corellian embassy with most of his time spent in the company of the new Supreme Chancellor. Thus, he'd spent three hours in a shuttle both coming and going, endured near death by boredom and had found that, for some reason he couldn't quite fathom, he disliked Chancellor Palpatine. Intensely.

All in all it had left him tired, undeniably cranky and not in the mood to find Anakin walking in the gardens with Yoda. "Ani," he snapped, inwardly cringing at his own tone and earning a look from Yoda that did nothing to improve his disposition, "why aren't you working on your sparring drills with Obi-Wan?"

The boy flushed. "He said he wasn't feeling well, Master, and asked me to spend the day with Master Yoda."

He could tell Anakin had not believed the explanation and his feelings had been hurt by what he perceived as a rejection, but he was loathed to get Obi-Wan in trouble. Too late. If they hadn't soul-bonded, Qui-Gon might not have suffered the spike of anger that sent him spinning on his heel and stalking towards their quarters.

Anakin had a good heart and there was no reason for Obi-Wan to be jealous of him. On the contrary, it was a daily struggle for Qui-Gon not to get so lost in his bond with Obi-Wan he forgot all about Ani. It was one of the reasons he'd pushed so hard for the child to develop a friendship with Yoda despite the fact he knew his former Master's sense of humor would have him regretting such a relationship more than once.

No, this had to stop. Obi-Wan was not only neglecting his friends, but he was shirking his duties and hurting a boy who wanted nothing more than to be his friend.

He hit the door to their quarters and headed for their bedroom. What he found stopped him in his tracks and dispelled much of his anger. Obi-Wan was sitting on the center of the floor, as if he'd been meditating, wearing nothing but Qui-Gon's oldest robe. The dark brown made the pallor of his skin all the more stark and his attempt to rise in greeting, failed, though he tried to cover it in a motion suggesting he'd only sought to resettle himself.

Three strides brought him to Obi-Wan's side, then he lifted him up into his arms. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he cradled Obi-Wan to his chest as if he were a small child, and said, "I don't know how – for it should be impossible – but you are shielding against me."

Obi-Wan did not try to deny it. He was obviously ill, yet Qui-Gon had not sensed it. "A side effect of your near death, I suspect."

There was more. Qui-Gon was no fool, but the silence which followed informed him Obi-Wan would not say more. "Why did you use this 'side effect' to hide that you were ill?"

"I didn't want you to worry."

It carried the ring of truth, but no comfort. They were bondmates, worry about each other was part of the package. "Then understand this, Obi-Wan, what the bond does not compel, I still demand my due as your bondmate. Never do this again."

His voice small and broken, Obi-Wan answered, "I swear it."

Qui-Gon went numb. The falseness of the words hung between them like a smothering weight. Lies as well as truths withheld. Shocked, hurt, but very much in love, he held Obi-Wan close, for he sensed it was what Obi-Wan needed. Yet he could not stop the bitter thought that this was no bond he'd ever wanted a part of.

A bond was a scared trust. Obi-Wan had heard Qui-Gon tell Anakin that. Yet he had used their bond – the deepest, most treasured bond a Jedi could forge – to lie and keep secrets Qui-Gon had every right to know. The wrongness of it made Obi-Wan feel almost as ill when Qui-Gon was near as when they were apart, but he could not undo what he had done. Could not stop doing it. He was in a hell of his own making, and he would not allow Qui-Gon to join him there.

The love remained. It was eternal. But the joy within them had died – crushed beneath the weight of Obi-Wan's deceit. When they made love, they cried, not because it was beautiful – although it was – but because he kept them from Oneness. That he suffered from it more was only fitting.

Unless Qui-Gon was inside his body, he felt a bone numbing cold all the time. Two missions suitable for a new Knight's first solo assignment were offered to him, but he declined with inadequate excuses of illness. But the Healers could find nothing wrong, for his worried bondmate was always near – if not actually in the room – when they examined him, so the bond seemed normal. He could feel the mood in the Council. If he did not speak the truth, did not accept the next mission, they would decide they had erred in making a man of such fragile nerve a Knight and dismiss him from the Order.

His life's dream destroyed, but he would still have Qui-Gon. He might be dismissed, but they would not send him away from his bondmate. They might even let him teach in the Temple. Life was uncertain, dreams could change, all that mattered was that he could stay conscious now when Qui-Gon was on the far side of the planet. Nothing else was important. Nothing.

He told himself a bond was eternal and he had forever. Fifty feet could indeed become fifty parsecs in the face of forever. Perhaps he was better at lying to himself than he had been to Qui-Gon, but in any case, it surprised him when Qui-Gon told him forever would turn out to be three months.

It seemed the Corellian Senator's daughter had been intrigued by Qui-Gon. She'd always dismissed the Jedi as cold mind-manipulating monsters, but Qui-Gon was a man in love and very worried about that love. She'd noticed his distraction at the embassy luncheon, pried a bare bones explanation from him and had decided perhaps she had been wrong about the Jedi after all. As she would undoubtedly succeed her father, both the Council and Qui-Gon had felt it wise to accept her request for Qui-Gon to escort her back to Corellia.

"Time with Ani should win her over completely," Qui-Gon had said. "The boy has a tendency to charm young women."

Yes, it made perfect sense. Obi-Wan could neither argue nor complain about that or the fact he was not invited along. The Council would not have it despite the girl's interest in meeting Qui-Gon's lover. Obi-Wan had refused to do his duty twice -- they would not grant him the favor of a few days on a lovely world. It would be too much like a reward. No, he would stay here and reflect on the meaning of duty. Qui-Gon did not disagree with them for he, too, had come to a decision time apart might do them some good.

In private, before the pain grew great enough to demand his full attention, Obi-Wan shed a few tears, but mostly, he began to plan his death.

It hurt. Qui-Gon tightened the cinch on his pack, then looked at his subdued bondmate. There was time to reconsider, to tell Obi-Wan to grab his pack and come along, but he couldn't do it.

They'd reached a point so quickly that the idea of being apart was less painful than being together, and he didn't know how it had happened. What had he done? How had he failed his Obi-Wan? He didn't understand any of this. All he could cling to was the hope a little time and distance would give them an opportunity to think and heal. And a chance to do some bond research – something his Temple duties and obligations to Anakin had prevented. He would find the answers. He loved too much and too deeply to consider any other possibility.

He cupped the treasured face in his hands. So beautiful, it took his breath away. "I don't want to leave you, but I think we need this."

"Yes," Obi-Wan agreed, turning his head enough to kiss Qui-Gon's palm. "I love you."

"And I you." He pressed his lips to Obi-Wan's. /A week, my love. I'll be gone but a week./ No more, no less.

Obi-Wan forced a smile, but he was pale. Oh, it hurt to see him like this. Tears burned in his eyes, and he pressed his forehead to Obi-Wan's. "We'll work this out."

"Yes, all will be well, my love. I know it."

He almost crushed Obi-Wan in his embrace, then pulled himself away. "I will miss you, and I love you. Do not doubt either."

A nod and another slight smile answered.

'Don't go.' His mind screamed it. 'Don't go. Put down the pack, take him to bed and keep him there forever.' Yes, a solution, but hardly a practical one. 'Don't go. Don't go. Don't go. Don't go.'

With a sigh that sounded a great deal like a sob, he walked out the bedroom door, collected his Padawan, then headed for the landing pad.

An instant. The difference between a ship carrying his love away, and a jump to lightspeed that doubled the distance separating them in the blink of an eye. The difference between life and death. And to Obi-Wan it was the briefest flicker of time without pain.

All his care, all his effort, collapsed in that one instant, his shields dropped, and Qui-Gon's mind was no longer guarded against what he was attempting to do.

Settled in his cabin to enjoy a nice long wallow in self-pity and misery before duty demanded charm, Qui-Gon felt the slight surge marking the ship's passage into hyperspace.

A near suffocating sorrow blanketed him. The ship was taking him away from his Obi-Wan at light speed. And he knew he'd made a dreadful mistake. Protocol and a foolish girl's opinions be damned, he could not allow this separation. He reached for the companel to tell the captain to abort the flight, then it happened

Pain beyond imagination slammed into him. He opened his mouth but couldn't manage a breath let alone a scream, then he was falling into the maelstrom of Obi-Wan's mind, all that had been hidden from him bursting into his consciousness like a star into life. And he felt ... rage.

/How dare you!/ he screamed at Obi-Wan. /You have no right to decide this for me! You are my life, you will not take that from me!/

Obi-Wan's mind reached for him, needing him, yet cringed away, trying to hide, to escape, to die.

He did not allow it. Calling on every ounce of skill he possessed, he wove himself into the fabric of Obi-Wan's mind and held on. /You will stay with me. Forever. You. Will. Stay./

The pain eased a little at his efforts, and though he could not spare the energy to speak to anyone else, Qui-Gon sent one bond spilling into another, allowing Anakin to see what was happening, and the boy took off at a run. Force, let it be to get the ship turned around.

Their fate in the hands of a nine-year-old boy's ability to make others listen, he concentrated on Obi-Wan, on keeping him alive while in the grips of pain that made death seem a mercy.

/No, let me go./ Obi-Wan begged him. /You deserve love, not a prison made from it. Let me go. It's the only way. Please./

Not loosening his hold in the slightest, Qui-Gon allowed himself to consider it. Because it was important to Obi-Wan he do so. Fifty feet. He would never be able to leave the radius sounding so loudly in his bondmate's mind without knowing it hurt Obi-Wan. Yet he also knew life might demand he do so. Frequently.

He shuddered at the thought. It was a certain kind of hell. To live as Obi-Wan wished them to live, he would have to accept giving pain to one he would die to protect from the smallest hurt. Even a bitten lip.

The first lie. He knew that now. No secrets between them as it was always meant to be. Yet a happy memory. /Remember how your lips pressed to mine felt, my Obi-Wan. How could I experience that and ever let you go?/

He flooded Obi-Wan with every gentle, loving memory he had, grounded him in life with the sense of joy Obi-Wan had brought to Qui-Gon from the day he had become his Padawan. A soul-bond had kept Qui-Gon alive, now love demanded Obi-Wan live up to its promise. The love of a Master for a boy thrust into his life despite his best efforts to live the rest of it bitter and alone. The love of a man for the man the boy had grown into. The love of a bondmate for the other half of his soul. /Stay with me, Obi-Wan. Stay./

A hand touched his arm. Small and warm, it urged him to stand while Anakin's faint voice pulsed in his mind, /Landed. Home. Guide you./

Not daring to ease his hold on Obi-Wan enough to allow his eyes to see where he was walking, he gave himself over to his Padawan. Anakin would get his body to Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon's mind would hold his love until then.

Awareness of time and movement gone, he knew nothing beyond the pain was easing, manageable now.

/Feel it, my Qui-Gon, feel it and know what I endure every time you walk out the door. Feel it and swear to me you will still go./

He wanted to refuse. Every instinct he had demanded he do so, demanded he crawl into bed with Obi-Wan and stay there forever. The only solution, but not a practical one. His anger faded as he understood his Obi-Wan had tried to protect him from the pain of this moment. But it was not something he would ever have wished to be spared. /I will do as I must./

Pain to discomfort. He must be within fifty feet. Then Obi-Wan was in his arms, his face damp with tears while Qui-Gon's own itched from the salt of tears already shed.

He held his love for a long time before he allowed awareness of his surroundings to penetrate enough to notice the lightsaber at Obi-Wan's feet and the pristine condition of his clothing. He would have made their bed into his byre.

/I'm sorry. I hadn't the strength to go anywhere else./

Or the hope of attempting suicide uninterrupted in any other place. His earlier fury returning, he used his hands and the Force to strip Obi-Wan of his death shroud, stripping them both until they were skin to skin, moving together in a frantic need to prove they were alive. He pushed into Obi-Wan, made fierce love to the willing body beneath him, his every stroke a scream of 'Mine! Mine! Mine!'

His seed spilled into Obi-Wan, the touch of it spurring his bondmate to his own release. How had he missed that? Obi-Wan craved him like a drug, needed him to feel alive and whole. No wonder listlessness resulted – climax was the ultimate moment of joining, yet also the beginning of separation. Yes, now he understood. The mental joining should have equaled the physical, but the bond was out of balance and to Obi-Wan the mental would never be enough. Never.

/You should have let me –/

Though Obi-Wan spoke with his mind, Qui-Gon silenced him with a hand over his mouth. "Never think that again."

/But. .../

"No. Think, my Obi-Wan. Think and remember how you felt as you held my dying body on Naboo. Was any price too great to pay to stop it? Even this?"

/No./ Not the slightest hesitation.

"Then feel the depth of my love and know that I, too, will gladly pay any price to keep you with me."

/Promise me./

He shook his head. "I will promise nothing. We are Jedi, my Obi-Wan. We do what we must and always will. We will live and love and serve as we can, but I will not promise to dine with friends while you writhe in pain to satisfy your desire to see me live a normal life."

Obi-Wan looked away, but Qui-Gon took hold of his chin and forced him to meet his gaze. "You are my life, my love, my light. No one, not even you, may take that from me."

/And when you tire of such a life?/

"I will not. This life will allow us to train Anakin, to serve others, to be together. I will never tire of it or you."

/You will, I know you will./

He kissed warm, soft lips. Not a high price to pay at all. He did not seek words to answer, instead he let all he was, all he felt flow through their bond. Together. Live or die. They would face it together.

Beautiful silver green eyes bright with tears and full of love looked up at him. "Death is always there, my Obi-Wan. A final answer, but not the only one. Do not cheat us of our time in this life before we explore other answers. And when death comes, do not seek it without me, for while I will follow, I would prefer to face it with you."

/We ... could try./

"We will do."

Obi-Wan reached out and touched his face. /I love you./

/Then stay with me. As I stayed with you./

Obi-Wan would have bitten his lip again, but Qui-Gon used the Force to prevent teeth from piercing flesh. Doubts and fears swirled through the young man's mind, but the love was greater. /I will stay./

Qui-Gon sagged with relief, his body enfolding Obi-Wan like a protective cocoon. It would not be easy. But he was aware now, the shields Obi-Wan had used against him having been breached once could never be effectively raised again. Yes, he was aware and would make this work. Alone until he could convince his stubborn love it could be done. Yes, they would win. Together.

the end

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