The Jedi Temple Murders
by analise and Kirby CrowPart 3
Obi-Wan let his back fall against the door as soon as it slid shut, his eyes closing tightly.
There was no way he could have told his Master about that day.
That day.
It still stood out in his mind as one of the most painful paradoxes of his life. How such pleasure and....love, could morph into one of the most horrifying, shaming moments of his life. He fought with his knees to keep from sliding his back down the door. The pain was still as fresh as it had been a year ago. Time had not healed any wounds whatsoever.
And now Sandor.
Was this one somehow his fault as well?
The murmur of voices on the other side of the door reminded him that they had a visitor and the irrepressibly curious part of him couldn't resist pressing an ear to the door and listening.
It was Master Windu, he recognized the slow, methodically intimidating tones right away. His master was silent as the other talked and he quickly calmed his thoughts, cloaking himself to be as small and unobtrusive as possible. Eavesdropping was not very Jedi-like, but he wasn't feeling all that honorable at the moment.
"....alked to Master Conn for confirmation. She has reluctantly admitted it."
"I don't see how young Sandor's sexual activities, promiscuous or not, have any bearing on this tragedy." His master's voice was calmly logical.
"That's a foolish thing to say Qui-Gon, and you know it. We should both be aware, by *now*, of the fact that most crimes are committed in the heat of anger or *passion*." He nearly spit the word out. "If this Padawan was loose between the sheets, then we can compile a list of likely suspects immediately... and a motive." Master Windu's voice was hard as nails, a thread of contempt woven into it. Contempt? Sandor was one of the nicest, most sweet-tempered people Obi-Wan had ever come across.
"I'm just not entirely certain that we can use that tack until we have a little more to go on...." Qui-Gon said softly, and Obi-Wan knew immediately by the tone of his Master's voice that his master already suspected that his Padawan might have been more than just `friends' with Sandor.
Mace seemed to sense it too.
"What are you trying to protect, Qui-Gon? Was your Padawan involved with this boy?"
Obi-Wan felt his skin crawl. This was just the sort of thing that he had never wanted to face. Sandor's death had brought those foul memories back like garbage rising from the bottom of a swamp. It would be a hundred times worse to reveal his shame, Force help him, in front of the Council.
And that's what it would come to. He was sure of that.
Swallowing bile in a throat suddenly dry, he quickly shed the towel from his hips and dressed hastily, nearly pulling his boots on the wrong feet before he got himself together.
A moment later he was slipping quietly out the small door that connected his own tiny quarters to the hallway, ditching all decorum and running down the passage to the lift.
And so he did not hear the soft knock on the connecting door between his quarters and the main common room. Nor did he see both Qui-Gon and Master Windu enter his quarters a moment later to find him gone.
I can see him, form dappled in the noonday light of the lower courtyard as he runs. There is an urgency, a fear clinging like a miasma to his graceful form. I can taste him again, feel his pain and his terror. For a moment, just a moment, he reminds me of....
I stop that train of thought abruptly, closing my eyes with the remembrance of pain. When I open them again, he has vanished among the colonnade of the inner walkway, headed for the Eastern wing. I can feel a skittering of his intentions. He plans on talking to the others.
He is afraid and distraught.
For a moment I drink in the chaos of his mind, shivering to think that it was I that might have caused it. I know that it was this one, foremost of them all, that shoulders most of the blame. That is why he will be last of all, so that his terror and loss might grow to meet my own. So that he might know what he has done and suffer for it.
I savor the sensation for a moment. The taste of my own need.
I am so hungry. The first was delicious. The next will be better.
The Temple was eerily quiet as he ran through the common ways. All classes had been cancelled and the training fields were empty. Master and Padawan alike had retreated into both meditation and seclusion. It was something of a tradition to reflect on life when one of their own was lost.
The peace of mediation was the last thing on his mind. Instead his head was filled with a swirl of fear, grief and confusion. Mace's words continued to echo in his ears.
"....we can compile a list of likely suspects immediately...."
His teeth were clenched so hard a tension headache was forming behind his eyes. Such a list would bring the dead back to life in the worst possible way.
The tattoo on the inside of his wrist seemed to burn at him accusingly. He clearly recalled that day, the bite of his sunburn on the back of his neck and the tops of his shoulders, the sound of his friends' laughter in his ears, the mixed smells of the marketplace they wandered through. It had been Geen who had suggested the tattoos. A reminder and a badge of their triumph. The sting of the laser needle as it bit into his flesh and Sandor's good natured ribbing when Elspeth had balked at the sight of the sharp implement.
His steps slowed and then stopped, leaning his frame up against the cool marble surface of one of the columns that lined the walk. He had thought this was all behind him. The tattoos would never come off, but he'd hoped the memories would fade. And now they were going to be resurrected in the worst way. His shame was going to be exposed. He didn't think he could look his master in the eye, watch those features fill with pity and horror.
He didn't think he was strong enough to bear that.
The sky was darkening above the temple, preparing for a midday storm, and he watched as the clouds gathered. Master Windu was going to find out about Kithurrin. Of that he was certain. The thought made him feel queasy and frightened. It occurred to him bleakly that he should tell his Master. If it was going to come out anyway, it might be better to tell Qui-Gon now.
He closed his eyes then, feeling the wind pick up and rustle in the treetops of the colonnade trees. His master. What would he think? What would he do? A tiny shiver ran through his frame as he considered the thought of his Master turning away from him in disgust. Right now he wished....needed....to reveal his soul to the man who had come to mean everything to him. But he didn't dare. The risk was too high. A single tear slipped, unnoticed, down his cheek. There were times, some more than others, that he wanted nothing more than to slide into his Master's strong embrace. To let those arms shut out all his worries and fears, to let those shoulders take on the burdens that his own felt too weary to bear.
To let those hands slide up the back of his neck, through his hair, tilting his jaw back....
"Did you do it?!" The sharp words rapped him out of his forbidden fantasy, startling him enough that he gasped out loud. His eyes snapped open to find Bacco standing in the shadows of the colonnade across from him. The purpling sky lit the flagstones of the walkway in an odd greenish light, and far off he could hear the rumble of thunder.
His friend, who only just this morning had been laughing as they sparred, was looking at him now with suspicion. His own eyes widened slightly and he took a step forward almost without thinking.
Bacco took a step back.
"What are you talking about?" Obi-Wan whispered, his thin voice almost lost in the sound of the rising wind.
"Sandor, of course." Bacco said, licking his lips nervously, his eyes boring into Obi-Wan's. "It was Elspeth who figured it out. She said that you and Sandor were the only ones left who really knew what happened that night....with Geen."
"You think *I* killed Sandor?" Obi-Wan couldn't keep the incredulous note out of his voice, and he felt the urge to giggle hysterically. "How could you even suggest that? How could Elspeth?"
For the first time since he'd been confronted, Obi-Wan saw a flicker of the friend he'd known pass across the dark features. It told him that Elspeth was the one who had come up with the crazy accusation. She had always been the one with the wild imagination. But it still hurt unbearably that she would think such a thing. And that Bacco would go along with it.
"You never said what happened that night, Obi-Wan." His own voice lowered, and he stepped closer, glancing around almost furtively. "All we know is that Geen killed himself. And that something happened up there in that cave that neither you or Sandor would talk about. What were we supposed to think? You both tell us that he jumped, but how do we know that's what happened? And now Sandor is dead. That just leaves you."
Obi-Wan's mouth was dry as he looked at his friend. Bacco was afraid of him. Afraid he might be next? He let himself lean weakly back against the column just as the rain started to fall in a rush of hissing water, spilling over the covered roof of the colonnade and rattling the leaves of the trees. The light went gray, shades of monotone.
He had never felt so alone in his life.
The tapping of footsteps on the flagstones had both of them breaking eye contact and moving apart almost furtively.
"You just stay away from both of us, Obi-Wan. Until you tell us what really happened to Geen that night, there's no way we can trust you. And if anything happens to me or to Elspeth, we're telling the council everything."
And then he was trotting away, leaving Obi-Wan alone in the rain.
A temple guard passed by, obviously the source of the footfalls, nodding pleasantly at the pale apprentice. Obi-Wan did not move. He just stood against the column like he was part of the statuary and looked out between the raindrops.
Obi-Wan had not been in his room. That alone was enough to urge Mace's suspicions up another notch and Qui-Gon had done his best to waylay them.
"Sandor was his friend, Mace. He's understandably upset. Don't let his grief condemn him in your witch hunt."
Mace had not taken kindly to the term 'witch hunt', but at least it had allowed his old classmate's attention to focus on him instead of Obi-Wan.
He had walked with his old friend as far as the Fountain before letting him go on alone, still trying to decide if he needed to go after his apprentice. He could sense that the youth was within the Temple grounds, perhaps over in the East Wing.
Instead, however, he took a deep breath of the silence that hung on gentle golden currents of sunshine in the wide empty courtyard. He could see clouds gathering on the horizon, but for now the air hung with the damp heat that preceded a late summer storm. Flowering vines surrounded the area, giving off a gentle fragrance and dotting the green walls with color. Insects buzzed gently here and there on a mild, warm, autumn breeze. A black-winged guldin whistled cheerfully from somewhere within the surrounding plant life. It was very peaceful here without the usual bustle of daily life at the Temple. Peaceful enough, perhaps, to clear his mind of its labyrinthine twists of conscience and worry.
Obi-Wan was hiding something from him. Something was weighing heavily on the spirit of his young student. Something important. And something that had to do with the murder. Sandor's death had put the tight, fearful look onto his cheerful, unflappable Obi-Wan's face.
It wasn't that the boy didn't have his secrets. Everyone did. And there were certainly things that he didn't want his Padawan to know about him. But this was different. Was it possible that Obi-Wan guessed? That he had slipped somewhere? Was the root of this the fact that the apprentice had sensed his master's desires?
He sank heavily to the stone side of the circular fountain, watching the tiny golden p'ribbs flicking here and there in the clear water. He had been so careful. But had there been a time within the last year that his apprentice had not been foremost in his mind? And it was not just his well-being or his studies that occupied the youth's mentor. It had been the curve of muscle where it met bone and the slope of a steep jawline blending into a smooth column of throat. It was the crinkle of skin at the corner of a smirking mouth and the sparkle of humor in an every-colored eye. It was the sound of a smoky, irrepressibly cheerful voice and the lift of a single mocking eyebrow.
He trailed his hand in the water idyly, cupping it and bringing it up to splash on his face. There was no way to stifle it, this thing that had settled deep in his heart. He was going to have to admit to himself that he was, deeply, terribly, inappropriately in love with his own apprentice.
Perhaps Mace was right to scowl at him so.
He sighed. Yet another convention for him to break. He let his fingers run lightly along the inside lip of the fountain, feeling the tiny nibbles of the p'ribbs on his fingertips. He felt something small and round under his index finger, and he worried at it without thinking about it, his mind still on the conundrum of his feelings for his Padawan.
Until it popped free from the filtering mechanism it had been stuck in and floated up to the surface of the pond.
Raising an eyebrow, he scooped it up, tilting it into the light, letting the excess water drain through his fingers. He recognized it right away. It was one of the distinctive beads that apprentices wove into their braids. Each one had a tiny marking etched into the smooth surface that branded it specific to a Padawan. He didn't know what each one was, but he could already tell from the faint miasma of fear that clung to the bead, that it had been Sandor's.
He frowned. Sandor had been drowned here? Why then, had he been dumped in the cistern?
"Master Jinn?" The voice was slow and thickly accented. He turned his head, curling the bead into his palm. Master Be'el stood there, looking as sad and serious as he ever did. Qui-Gon seemed to remember a time when the Veddian had not been so solemn. At the moment, he couldn't think what had happened.
"Yes, Be'el? I was going to come look for you." He managed a smile and scooted over slightly on the fountain ledge in invitation. The tall alien did not sit. Instead he tucked his hands into his sleeves and bowed his head at Qui-Gon.
"How is your apprentice? That was very brave of him to go into the cistern." The gravelly voice eked each word out separately and Qui-Gon wondered vaguely how a young Padawan might go mad waiting for him to finish a sentence. He knew that even he often irritated Obi-Wan when he seemed to not be getting to the point quick enough.
"He is -- he was -- friends with Sandor. It was hard for him. But I am proud that he had the courage to face such a task." They were simple, surface words, but he meant every one of them. "I think that Master Conn is having a harder time of it. It must be terrible to lose a Padawan." Even as he said the words, he wanted to choke them back. He had just remembered that Be'el's Padawan had been Geen. And that *that* had been the time when the Veddian had become so sad. Obi-Wan had mentioned that Be'el, had been one of the supervising Masters on Kithurrin at that terrible time. It had been whispered that he had been out of his mind with grief when he'd seen Geen's body.
To lose a Padawan to sacrifice or danger or even, Force forefend, the Dark Side was one thing, but suicide.... Qui-Gon couldn't even comprehend what that must be like.
Be'el seemed to sense his horror, and he waved him off gently, moving, finally, to sit down next to the younger Jedi. One bark-skinned hand pressed momentarily over Qui-Gon's in empathy.
"Not to worry, Master Jinn. Some wounds never heal, but they do grow more bearable with time. Geen was a sweet boy. He felt things very strongly. He did not deserve to die so young." There was an uncomfortable silence between the two masters for a moment before Be'el took pity on him. "And what was it that you wished to speak with me about?"
Qui-Gon nodded, tightening his fist around the bead and then opening it to show the Veddian.
"I found this in the fountain just now. It definitely belonged to Sandor. I had meant to ask you how you thought that the capping block could be lifted alone from the cistern, but now I also ask you why you think someone might move the body there."
The Veddian stared at the bead without touching it for a long, long moment. So long, in fact, that Qui-Gon worried he had slipped into some sort of trance. Until he spoke.
"I don't know. There are several here at the Temple who could lift the cap alone, but it would be hard work. Master Yoda is one. There are others. I suspect that even you could do it, Master Jinn. Why the body would be moved from the fountain to the cistern I do not know. Perhaps it is nothing more complex than an attempt to hide it."
"Could the body have stayed hidden in the cistern for a long time without detection?"
"Oh yes. It was a fluke that Sandor was caught in the outflow pipe. Otherwise he might have simply decomposed in there with none of us ever the wiser."
Qui-Gon tried not to let the gruesome imagery bother him, nodding instead.
"So, if not for a stroke of luck, we might never have even found Sandor's body." He muttered, closing the bead back into his hand. "I will take this new evidence to Master Windu. It might still bear enough of an imprint of the murder to help us. And at least now we know where Sandor was killed. Someone might have seen something."
Be'el nodded. "I was going to talk to Master Windu myself. I will take the Padawan bead to him if you wish."
Qui-Gon looked at the sad Veddian and nodded, dropping the bead into his broad hand. "Thank you. I need to talk to my own Padawan now, if you will excuse me." Qui-Gon rose, touched the other Master gently on the shoulder in thanks and strode out of the courtyard.
His Padawan was still not back when he returned, and he settled down on the meditation mat with a book to wait, wanting to be there when he got back. It was not immediately. In fact, the rain clouds had come and let loose by the time Obi-Wan returned, entering the main room like a shadow in the gray light of the storm. Qui-Gon eyed him covertly from where he sat, watching him as he stood disconsolately in the doorway for a long moment, water dripping from his soaked clothes. He had gone out without his robe.
"Obi-Wan?"
The boy started slightly, the pale oval of his face turning to where his Master sat in a long shadow by the wall. For an instant he caught a grief and fear in those eyes that was so intense it startled him to momentary silence. It was gone so quickly, smoothed over so well, that Qui-Gon was almost convinced he had imagined it. Letting Mace's suspicious mind get the better of him, no doubt.
"Yes Master?" The voice was low and slightly rough around the edges. Had he been crying?
"Come and sit here," he said softly, holding out his hand. Obi-Wan came without hesitation, his slender fingers sliding into his master's smoothly, letting the older man pull him down to his knees alongside him. Qui-Gon let his eyes caress the pretty features almost self-indulgently and then quickly berated himself for it. It was an age old habit of his, to admire, and then to quickly admonish. The entire action and reaction took less than a second. He sighed, squeezing the slightly trembling hand.
"I think you need to calm yourself, Padawan. I know he was your friend, but he has only rejoined the Force. You should understand this by now." Obi-Wan nodded his head, not looking up at his master, though the youth's hand remained tightly entwined with his.
"I know it, Master. I'm sorry.... it's-" he stopped himself suddenly, as if he had only just prevented himself from saying something he didn't want Qui-Gon to know. The older Jedi couldn't prevent the small crease from wrinkling his forehead. Indeed, Obi-Wan was acting strangely. It was getting harder and harder not to wonder if there was more than just a sexual connection between the dead boy and his Padawan.
He pushed the predictable pang of jealousy aside impatiently.
"It's what?" he prompted gently.
Obi-Wan suddenly pulled his hand out from between his Master's fingers, clasping it with its mate tightly in his lap. He shook his head, the long braid trembling with the motion on his shoulder.
"Nothing, Master. It's just hard, that's all."
Qui-Gon kept his face impassive. Even without actually invading his apprentice's privacy, he could tell that Obi-Wan was hiding something. From the moment that he had first laid eyes on the boy, Obi-Wan had always been terrible at lying. And now, this was too serious to wait for him to reveal it in his own time.
He reached his hand out, gently hooking a long finger around the young man's jaw and tugging on his sweetly blunted chin until they were face to face in the deepening shadows. The rumbling, charcoal sky lit the room in a washed gray light.
"Obi-Wan. You know you can trust me." The statement was to be his Padawan's last chance to tell him without a direct command. The wide blue eyes froze and Obi-Wan's throat clicked in the silence just before a distant crash of thunder rattled the windowpanes.
"Of course, Master. I trust you more than anything else." There was something else, something deeper in those words. Something so thick and heady and sweet that it sent everything but Obi-Wan into the limbo of 'not important'. He was drowning in those eyes, lost in the moment of that unbroken gaze. Sandor and Mace became distant buzzing gnats in his mind as he realized just how close he was to his Padawan. How warm Obi-Wan's breath was as it caressed his cheek. How pink and tempting the sharp tip of Obi-Wan's tongue was as it ran a moist trail across his lower lip.
A single inch more and he would be there, tasting that mouth, nibbling the smooth line of that perfect throat, drinking the spicy salt of his Padawan's skin, exploring every sculpted inch of jaw and brow. Soothing and stroking the weight off those young shoulders.
The youth's eyes were limpid in the dim light, his lips slightly parted, his breath coming a little faster. Was that desire reflected in those chameleon eyes? It couldn't be. The thought sent a new wave of heat through him. By all that was sacred, that mouth was so close....
It was Mace's face that appeared in his mind's eye then, frowning at him as he had that morning on the training field.
No.
He wrenched himself up and off the floor with one awkward motion, trying to control his suddenly labored breathing. Obscene, he told himself. Vile. Obi-Wan had lost a friend, possibly a lover, and all he could think of was how that mouth would feel against his own. How well the sweet curve of his back would fit into his palms.
"Master?" Obi-Wan's voice was on the verge of breathless, confusion apparent. Had the boy felt any of what he was just thinking? Oh Force help him, he hoped not.
Qui-Gon had moved to the window, his hands gripping the sill tightly as he kept his back to his apprentice.
"You must tell me anything that you think will help us find the killer, Obi-Wan. If you know anything about your friend that will help, it is best if you tell me now rather than let the council find out later. That would look very bad. For both of us."
He added the last as a form of blackmail that he hated to have to use, turning to face his apprentice. But he knew Obi-Wan, and the boy was as stubborn as any Hutt when he wanted to be.
To his horror, instead of the chagrined expression he'd expected, a single tear slipped down the curve of the young cheek as he pushed himself to his feet.
"It's nothing. Please master. You ask me to trust you. I need you to trust me. I know that Mace is already suspicious about me, because of Sandor's reputation, but I had nothing to do with his murder. You have to believe me. *Please* believe me."
It was a gasped plea, so heartfelt that Qui-Gon felt his soul clench with the pain of it. He reached forward without even thinking, gathering the youth into his arms and holding him close, stroking his back.
"Of course I trust you. I don't believe for a minute that you're capable of cold-blooded murder. But I can't stop others from thinking that, especially if you don't let me help you with whatever it is you're not telling me." The words were muffled into the silky top of Obi-Wan's head as he spoke them.
His apprentice broke out of the embrace as if those words had wounded him, leaving his master's arms empty as he turned away.
"There is nothing more to say that I haven't told you, master," his voice was firm, almost cold.
And it told Qui-Gon without a doubt, that Obi-Wan was lying.
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