The Best Medicine
by Russet McMillanPart 6
Something warm was being wrapped around Obi-Wan's damp shoulders. He cracked his eyes open muzzily. "Hmm?"
"It's all right, just rest." Strong arms came around him.
He came awake enough to realize that he was floating head down in the room. At least, he would be head down if there were any gravity to create a `down,' but if that were so he wouldn't be floating... Determinedly, he pulled his thoughts together. Qui-Gon had retrieved a cloak from the closet and was tucking it around both of them. It was just big enough to fit, if they snuggled close.
"What time is it?"
"Around the beginning of ship's night, I believe."
Obi-Wan tried to translate that into some understanding of how long they had been occupied, but all the conversions between systems eluded him at the moment. Somewhere between four and eight hours, he decided. "How d'you feel?" he asked, almost coherently.
Qui-Gon's smile was brilliant, even with half of it covered up. "I feel wonderful, actually. Ready to wrestle a Gundark, as they say."
"Your face?" Obi-Wan's hand drifted up without conscious volition.
"It should be all right, if not perfect. I lost track somewhat during all those repairs. Have a look."
Obi-Wan's fingers curled tentatively around the edge of the dressing, and Qui-Gon jerked his head back sharply to pull the covering free.
"Oh..." Obi-Wan reached out to brush across the perfect brow and down the smooth cheekbone.
Qui-Gon blinked rapidly in the room's harsh light, his left pupil quickly shrinking to a pinpoint.
"You can see?" Obi-Wan asked, his fingertip just barely grazing the lower rank of eyelashes.
"It's...blurred, but adequate," Qui-Gon said. "I can compensate until we return to the Temple and let the healers have a look at it."
The skin was still pink where the worst of the wounds had been on Qui-Gon's forehead and cheek, but they looked more like minor scrapes a few weeks old than recent injuries that might have cost the master his life or vision. They would finish healing in a few days and leave no scar. Obi-Wan gazed in delight, drinking in the sight of his master's intact face and working eye. It was over a minute before he noticed anything off. "Oh. Your nose."
"I left that until the last. Did I mess it up?" Qui-Gon reached out delicately through the bond that still connected them, asking to share Obi-Wan's vision.
Without a second thought, the padawan opened his senses at once. "It looks like you over-corrected. It was bent to the left before, and now it goes a little to the right. My right, that is -- your left." He pressed a finger over the bump in the bone.
Qui-Gon considered. "Well, it's not so terribly asymmetrical. I think the Bristeen can bear it without offense."
"I think it adds a certain something, actually." Obi-Wan cocked his head.
"I've had my nose broken and straightened before. Perhaps I should leave it this time?"
"That's up to you, Master. It's your nose."
"You seemed to have quite a strong opinion about whether or not I should keep my eye," Qui-Gon pointed out with amusement.
"Well, that's different."
"Is it?"
"Very different." Obi-Wan frowned. "You missed a bit on your jaw, here." He traced a slight divot below his master's ear.
"There was a bone fragment missing." Qui-Gon accessed his padawan's vision once more. "A beard would cover it. With a little effort, I can grow one before we reach Bristeetst."
"Oh, yes." Obi-Wan brightened. "I've always thought you would look good with a beard. Dignified. And you should grow your hair longer."
"I thought you had no opinion on what I should do about my appearance?"
"I didn't say that, Master. You did." Obi-Wan fought back a yawn. "How is your chest?" He started to stroke his palm down his master's ribs, then hesitated, thinking the intimacy might be unwelcome.
"Completely healed." Qui-Gon pulled the younger man a little closer into his embrace.
"Good." Obi-Wan's eyelids were drooping.
"Your idea was a great success, Padawan."
"Mmm. I knew it would be." Obi-Wan pulled the cloak a little tighter around himself and let his eyes drift closed. "Someone should tell the captain she can turn the gravity back on."
"Are you all right, Obi-Wan?"
"Mm-hmm. Just tired."
A hand brushed over his short hair. "You gave me too much -- you've drained yourself."
Hearing the worried tone, Obi-Wan forced his eyes open. "I'll be fine, Master, really. I just need rest." Another yawn overcame him, punctuating his words.
"Sleep, then. I'll talk to the captain."
Dimly, Obi-Wan felt himself being guided to the open bunk and loosely confined by its tie-downs. Then he sank into an oblivion so deep he never even felt the gravity returning.
With so little Force to draw upon, it took Obi-Wan several days to regain his energy levels. He slept a lot, causing his master some concern, and he had to explain several times that he was quite certain there was no permanent damage. He thought briefly about suggesting to Qui-Gon that he would recover more quickly if they generated some Force together, but he couldn't bring himself to be quite so brazen. He was too weary to try the solo method, either; instead, he merely dragged himself out of the cabin a few times to accept greetings and congratulations on Qui-Gon's recovery from the captain, the crew, and the medical droid. Then he went back and curled up for another rest.
It was rather pleasant, really, having his master fuss over him when he wasn't truly ill or hurt. The food was especially nice; with the help of Eriskiett, Qui-Gon managed to track down a number of human delicacies various members of the crew had been saving up. Ordinarily, since the Bristeen knew that humans *could* survive on their food, they expected that the Jedi passengers *would* eat whatever the rest of the crew had. But the avians had deep sympathy for an invalid's appetite, and many of them willingly donated their hoarded sweets and flavored drinks to appease Obi-Wan's tastebuds. He was tempted to feign weakness until they reached Borritt, and see if Qui-Gon could find a nice juicy slab of meat somewhere on the refueling station. But boredom proved a more powerful spur, and Obi-Wan was out of bed and exercising more than a day before their return to normal space.
Borritt was a bloated gas giant planet orbiting a dull red star, attended by a series of space stations and refineries. With no habitable planets in the system, the gas giant's store of unusually pure hydrogen was the only thing the place had to recommend itself, and the local industry revolved around harvesting, refining, and selling fuel. The star was cool enough that Borritt's wide orbit kept it well outside the melting point for water ice -- except when the star gave off one of its unpredictable, energetic flares. The flares posed little danger to any ship or station that was properly shielded, but Captain Ctecteru was worried about her ship's two-kilometer tail of ice chunks. She decided to park the freighter in a position that kept them in the planet's shadow in case the star should start to act up, even though it meant paying extra to have their fuel ferried from the refineries.
Fortunately, they had made it in time to keep their place in the fuel queue. Most of the other ships waiting a turn were parked in orbits closer to the refineries, and the ice freighter ended up floating alone in shadow.
Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan were on the bridge as they entered the system, studying charts over the captain's shoulders. Obi-Wan spared a moment to look quickly at his master, keeping his amusement hidden. With his beard just starting to come in, Qui-Gon was looking unusually scruffy. Even Eriskiett had been moved to make a joke about moulting and downfeathers.
"Wasn't one of the other ice freighters attacked right here at Borritt?" Qui-Gon asked the captain.
"That's right," the captain whistled. "They lost nearly half their cargo in a single raid."
Obi-Wan turned his attention back to the charts. "Was that ship also parked on the outside of the planet?"
"Most likely. It's standard practice when bringing an ice cargo in so close to a variable star."
"Perhaps it would be safer to move closer to the other ships," Qui-Gon suggested. "The security forces from the stations will take some time to get here if we're attacked."
"They'll take long enough that we could risk losing a large fraction of our cargo, true. But if that star flares without warning and we have no protection, we could lose the *entire* cargo." The captain's feathered hands moved over the console, calling up records of the star's activity over the past few years. "I think staying here is a smaller risk."
Obi-Wan caught his master's eyes. "Could we get some of the security forces out here as a prevention measure?"
Just then, an alarm went off on the main control console. "Too late," the pilot whistled shrilly. "Raiders heading in from outsystem. They'll be here in five minutes."
*Not again!* Obi-Wan thought in dismay, unable to resist a quick glance at his master. They had barely recovered from the results of the last pirate attack, and now they had to face another.
Then he steadied himself, reaching out to the Force for confidence. Obi-Wan Kenobi had never turned from a fight in his life, and he wasn't about to start now.
Qui-Gon was leaning calmly toward the console by the pilot's elbow. "What approach are they taking?"
The pilot's hands flew, and the attacking ships appeared on the display with red trails to show where they had come from. "They're heading for the cargo, staying well back from the freighter's guns."
The freighter's weapons weren't much to boast about in any case, Obi-Wan recalled. The Gamorreans had certainly had no trouble avoiding them. He studied the weapons controls, which were part of Eriskiett's station.
"These ones won't be trying to board," the captain clacked. "They'll cut away as much of the cargo as they can and tow it off outsystem. They must have a ship waiting out there."
Qui-Gon turned to her. "Contact system control and request fighter backup."
"It will take them nearly an hour to get here. Half our cargo could be gone by that time." Nevertheless, the captain activated the comm.
"There!" Obi-Wan pointed to the display, and Eriskiett saw the opening he was referring to. She swiveled the ship's guns as quickly as they would move, but the attacking fighter dodged back into their blind spot before the blast seared through space.
Obi-Wan stepped back in frustration. "This is no good," he said. "We can't counter them unless we get a ship out there --" He froze. "That's it! Eriskiett, come with us. Captain, prepare to open Cargo Bay Seven to space." He hurried for the bridge doors.
Qui-Gon had frowned at the young man's peremptory tone, but he followed along with no more invitation than a single look from Obi-Wan. "What do you have in mind?" he asked as they strode quickly through the ship's corridors.
"We took a Kestrel starfighter from that first batch of pirates," Obi-Wan explained quickly. "It's a bit battered, but it should suffice. I'll fly it if you man the guns."
"Surely one of the Bristeen pilots --"
Obi-Wan shook his head. "The cockpit was altered by the Gamorreans. You and I are the only ones tall enough to reach the controls." He kept up his bounding low-gravity walk, waiting to see if his master would demur. Flying and fighting with energy weapons were not specialties of Qui-Gon's, but he was competent at either task. And the competence of a Jedi was far beyond the normal capabilities of the Force-blind.
Hearing no objection, Obi-Wan turned to Eriskiett, who was having trouble keeping up with their longer strides. "What repairs have you made since the last time I saw the Kestrel?"
"None!" she whistled breathlessly. "You can't use it, Obi-Wan -- it won't work!"
He scowled. "I thought the propulsion and weapons were fine."
"But there are no working sensors!"
"We don't need sensors," Obi-Wan said.
"The Force will guide us," Qui-Gon explained at the same moment.
"You can't wear the helmets -- no targeting computers --"
"We *certainly* don't need targeting computers," Obi-Wan returned with a small grin.
"No shields!"
Obi-Wan paused at the cargo bay door, his hand on the control. He glanced at his master, who nodded.
"We shall be careful," was all Qui-Gon said.
Obi-Wan opened the door and headed for the small fighter, hastily releasing tie-downs.
"We have no compatible astrodroids --" Eriskiett began.
"We can do without," said Qui-Gon.
"And the communications don't work!" she gasped.
Qui-Gon smiled at her. "In that case, I'd appreciate it if you let the security forces know we're not pirates." He stepped up onto the fighter's wing one step behind Obi-Wan and swung himself down into the rear-facing seat. "Clear the cargo bay and tell the captain we're ready for space," he called out a moment before sealing the hatch.
Obi-Wan hurriedly strapped himself in and bit back a curse when he found that the restraints wouldn't tighten around a slender human body. Then he discovered he had to loosen them even further so that he could slide forward to reach the foot controls. The seat position was not adjustable. A frustrated hiss trickled through his lips.
"Stop worrying about what we don't have, Padawan, and work with what we do have." Qui-Gon was adjusting his own straps, which were slightly better but still loose.
"Yes, Master." Obi-Wan glanced quickly around the cockpit, thinking. Since the seat was so low, the view-bubble began somewhat above his eye level, and that was the only window he would have to let him *see* what was going on. Everything else, he would have to sense with the Force. With no helmets and inadequate restraints, he'd have to take care which way he pitched the ship, or they might crack their heads on the ceiling. He would have to avoid making any outside loops.
He activated the controls and brought up the engines. "Fuel batteries at full capacity," he noted out loud. The Bristeen might not have intended to use this fighter, or even to repair it anytime soon, but they had taken good care of it anyway.
"Weapons charged at ninety-eight percent," Qui-Gon reported.
"Seals check out. Internal atmosphere control is up. Is the bay clear?"
"Yes. The outer doors are opening now."
Obi-Wan took a deep breath and reached out for the Force. He would have to fly almost on pure instinct. He could feel the Force flowing smoothly through his master, as well, and he knew the two of them must work perfectly in tandem with each other.
Whatever Eriskiett had said to the captain must have conveyed some urgency, for the force field that kept air in the bay hadn't even reached full strength when the huge doors parted. The Kestrel shot out of the ship amid a plume of ice crystals as humid ship's air leaked into the chill of space. Obi-Wan banked the small craft along the freighter's flank, heading aft towards the ice cargo.
One of the unique features of the Kestrel-8F line was the rotating gun turret on the belly which allowed it to fire in any direction. The setup was unusual on a small fighter for two reasons: it was more difficult to aim accurately for shots at right angles to the fighter's path, and shots to the rear would be reduced in energy because they were working against the fighter's own speed instead of with it. Neither of those facts were of great concern to a Jedi gunner, and Qui-Gon's first move was to release the optional locks which kept the turret pointed within a few degrees of the fighter's direction of motion.
From what they had seen of the scans on the bridge, the attacking force consisted of five J2X snub-fighters, a model that included shields, dual energy weapons, and torpedoes. The single-pilot fighters were smaller than the Kestrel but slightly less maneuverable. As the first pirate came into Obi-Wan's line of sight, he saw that it had apparently been equipped with light-explosive torpedoes. The fighter released a double shot into one of the ice chunks right at the point where a carbifiber cable had been planted to fasten several blocks of ice together. The tough cable remained intact, but it was blown from its mooring in the ice.
Obi-Wan flashed quickly past the attacking fighter, and before the pirate even had a chance to register the Kestrel's presence, Qui-Gon fired. His two shots, traveling to the Kestrel's rear quarter, were sapped of some of their energy and had no chance of destroying the shielded snub-fighter. But destruction hadn't been Qui-Gon's intent. With exquisite aim, his first shot took out the fighter's shield generator while the second blew an engine power coupling. Disabled, the fighter drifted uselessly in space as Obi-Wan drew a spiral around the long chain of ice chunks.
Other fighters had already detached many of the cargo cables, and the end of the freighter's ice tail was beginning to come apart. At the very rear of the chain, Obi-Wan detected a fighter releasing jet-droids into some of the largest chunks. This time he didn't need his eyes; he could clearly sense the pilot's actions through the Force. The simpleminded machines would clamp onto the ice and start accelerating on some pre-programmed course, presumably back to the ship that had sent the fighters in-system.
Obi-Wan plotted a weaving course toward the fighter which took them past three sections of ice that were already under droid acceleration. Qui-Gon destroyed each of the droids neatly as they passed, vaporizing as little ice as possible in the process. Obi-Wan realized his master wasn't using vision either, and in fact probably had his eyes closed. Obi-Wan waited the necessary microseconds for the weapons to rearm, then angled the Kestrel upward to scream past within meters of the fighter. Qui-Gon's delicate touch disabled the second one as easily as the first.
But now the others had been alerted to the danger. They stopped trying to carve pieces off the ice cargo and converged on the Kestrel instead. Obi-Wan jinked hastily as double beams lit the space just off his right wing.
"Two of them," Qui-Gon murmured, as another pulled in on their tail.
And both fighters were apparently familiar with the weakness of the Kestrel model; they were staying behind and slightly above Obi-Wan's path, so that the belly-mounted guns couldn't reach them. Ordinarily, Obi-Wan could have solved that by swooping downward into an outside loop, but he couldn't afford to pull that kind of acceleration with their restraints loose. An inside loop would push him and Qui-Gon down safely into their seats, but it would also put their attackers higher above the Kestrel's plane of orientation.
He solved the problem by killing their propulsion, flipping the ship over using just the attitude thrusters, and reigniting the engines in the opposite direction. For a moment they were a sitting target, but their pursuers hadn't expected such a move and missed the opportunity to burn into the unshielded ship. In the next instant, the Kestrel zipped back on its new vector between the two pirates, and Qui-Gon took out one of the fighters' stabilizers as they passed. The fighter went off in an uncontrolled spin towards the giant planet.
The second pirate was more fortunate, or quicker on the uptake. He made a tight arc to the side that quickly took him out of the Kestrel's range of fire, and then returned to position on their tail. For a moment Qui-Gon was able to get off a shot, but the weakened beam was easily deflected by the pirate's shield.
Obi-Wan smiled as he felt the Force guiding his hands. He weaved and bobbed drunkenly to avoid the snub-fighter's beams, all the while letting their vector carry them back toward the freighter. He led their pursuer on a twisting path around the ice until, quite suddenly, the first disabled fighter came into view. With no propulsion and no shields, the pirate had been forced to sit there in space waiting for the security forces to arrive and pick her up. But her weapons were still functional, and the Kestrel appeared directly in her line of fire, presenting an irresistible target. Just as the pirate fired, Obi-Wan twisted his ship to one side. The twin blasts slid over his wing and lanced into the pirate that had been steadily gaining behind him.
The second pirate jinked and lost his speed advantage, but apparently his shields had absorbed most of the energy of the shots. Scored by the blasts, but still functional, he pulled into place once more above the Kestrel's tail.
"He's good," Qui-Gon admitted.
"I'm better," said Obi-Wan with confidence, bringing the Kestrel into a tight loop that carried them back towards the end of the long chain of ice. He waited until they reached the middle of the cargo, where enough of the cables had been broken that the chunks were just starting to drift apart. Then he turned the Kestrel *into* the crowd of wandering ice chunks.
It was like flying through a dense asteroid field, except that the obstacles were a million times more closely spaced. Obi-Wan glided over and around huge blocks of ice that could crush the little Kestrel in an instant, and he made it look so easy that the pirate took the bait and followed him in. The snub-fighter was smaller than the Kestrel, after all, and should be able to go anywhere the other craft could.
Except that the Kestrel was piloted by a Jedi. Obi-Wan guided it smoothly between two ice fortresses that were drifting closer together. He rolled the little ship to squeeze through the opening at the last possible moment, hearing a scraping sound from the hull just as he pulled clear. The pirate wasn't so adept, however, and all that marked his passing was a fireball bursting from between the converging slabs of ice.
The Kestrel emerged from the ice field a short distance from the fifth and last pirate fighter, who had seen all of his companions disabled or killed within the space of a few minutes. As soon as Obi-Wan started to line up on the pirate, he turned and headed away from the freighter at maximum acceleration. Obi-Wan followed along, keeping just outsystem of the pirate and herding him to one side. A single careful shot from Qui-Gon took out the fighter's shields, and then Obi-Wan eased the Kestrel back, letting the pirate think he was escaping.
"If system security can't apprehend a single pirate with no shields, they should probably consider new careers," Obi-Wan reflected as he watched the last pirate zooming off in the very direction their reinforcements should be arriving from.
"Back to the freighter," Qui-Gon said drily.
"Yes, Master." Obi-Wan retraced their path, detouring a little to pass by the two disabled pirates so that Qui-Gon could stop their weapons with a few surgically-placed shots. "They'll have to hire some tugs to retrieve all that ice and plant new cables."
"With a little persuasion, I'm sure system security will be willing to pay for it," Qui-Gon promised.
Obi-Wan chuckled and aimed the Kestrel toward the freighter's open cargo bay doors.
It wasn't until the cargo bay was secure again and they were climbing out of the modified cockpit that Obi-Wan turned to Qui-Gon. "I hope I wasn't too forward back there, Master. I didn't mean to give you orders."
Qui-Gon paused with one foot on the wing, eyebrows rising. "That's all right, Padawan. You had information that I didn't. You were quite right to take action before it was too late. I would have taken over if it seemed necessary, but it wasn't."
Obi-Wan smiled, climbing down behind his master. "I thought that went rather well," he said.
Qui-Gon nodded, leading the way across the cargo bay. "We worked very smoothly together. You're getting quite good at teamwork, Padawan."
"Do you think it was the sex?" Obi-Wan suggested cheerfully.
Qui-Gon's step faltered. "Let's...go speak to the captain about how this is going to affect her schedules." He didn't turn to look at his apprentice.
Obi-Wan ducked his head to hide his amusement as he followed his master through the ship.
Qui-Gon Jinn stood patiently on the reviewing platform behind the Askiirst of Bristeetst, watching the aerial displays that punctuated the new leader's inaugural address. Half his view was obscured by the Askiirst's enormous headdress of multicolored feathers, and Qui-Gon had to watch his step when he moved to avoid the similarly exaggerated tail of the costume. The Askiirst was primarily a figurehead leader, as the Bristeen tended to believe that males were too preoccupied with prestige and appearances for any sort of serious occupation. The Askiirst would have a cabinet of female advisors to make his decisions, and a staff of female clerks to carry them out.
Captain Ctecteru was quite unusual for a Bristeen in that she had no less than three males in functional positions on her crew. No doubt it had helped her to take Qui-Gon and his padawan seriously. Their success in staving off pirates had also earned them a great deal of respect; when raiders had started to move in during the ship's third and final refueling stop, the pilot had simply announced over the comm that there were two Jedi aboard. The thieves had retreated after remarkably little consideration, and the freighter had eventually arrived at Bristeetst with all but two percent of its original ice cargo intact.
Whatever the limitations of their role in Bristeen society, the males were certainly good at putting on an impressive show. Qui-Gon blinked as three wings of Bristeen flew overhead in wheeling formations of glittering scarlet, teal, and gold feathers. It all served as an effective distraction from the meaningless platitudes the new leader was quoting from his datapad.
The wheels burst apart into tumbling individual acrobats just as the speech finished, and Qui-Gon recognized his own cue. He stepped to the front of the platform and began to recite the Senate's official recognition of the new leader, at the same moment that Obi-Wan took to the air from the other side of the great bay. Clad in dull brown and white, the padawan's show was purely a display of skill as he swooped easily from handhold to foothold, following a spiraling path around the bay. He used the Force so subtly that even an experienced observer might think he was truly soaring and gliding from one stop to the next.
Qui-Gon timed his words carefully, but he was a little ahead of Obi-Wan as he approached the end of his speech. Warned by a quick pulse through their bond, Obi-Wan skipped the last two handholds for a prodigious leap across the space to the reviewing platform. He alit on the edge of the platform amid a flapping of robes and produced a scroll from his sleeve with a flourish. Scribed on gilt paper and wrapped in blue ribbons, the scroll was as brightly colored as any Bristeen could wish. It simply repeated the words Qui-Gon had just spoken, but it represented the approval of the Senate in a tangible form. Obi-Wan bowed deeply as he handed the scroll to the new Askiirst.
Their role in the inauguration complete, the two Jedi stepped off opposite ends of the reviewing platform at the same moment and dropped fifty meters to land lightly on the floor of the bay below. They exchanged amused glances with each other before they were surrounded by a crowd of officials whisking them off to the obligatory celebration.
It was some hours before they were free to adjourn to the sumptuous suite they had been assigned on the outer rim of the habitat, and in that time they had no chance to speak more than a few words to each other. At last Qui-Gon stood in the main room of their suite, looking up through the overarching transparisteel wall to the stars wheeling slowly past.
Qui-Gon gazed out at the glittering sky, but what he saw in his mind's eye was the face of his padawan. He had come to realize, at some point while they were grappling in the small, hot cabin, that he was in love. He had begged for a link between them, an intimacy that should never have been permitted, yet Obi-Wan had granted it willingly. In that link, Qui-Gon had felt the genuine affection in his padawan's heart and the younger man's determination to give all that was asked -- but physical sensation had overwhelmed him before he could find out if it was truly love that Obi-Wan felt, love to match Qui-Gon's own. Now their bond had returned to normal, and Qui-Gon could only be sure of his own feelings, which were stronger than he had ever suspected.
A whisper of foreboding told him that this was the last love of his life -- but did that mean long love, or short life? In either case, it couldn't be ethical to tie Obi-Wan to him with promises when the young man still had so much to learn about himself and the world around him. Over the last few years, he had watched Obi-Wan discovering sex and love and all the wonders of adulthood along with his friends. Qui-Gon could never wish to stifle such a learning process; indeed, he was conscious that Obi-Wan's discoveries were responsible for saving his eye. Yet, having decided to make no promises, still he found himself greedily wondering how much he could have *without* promises. What were the ethics of such a desire?
He started from his reflections as the main door to the suite opened. Turning partly away from the door, he firmed his mental shields and made a show of staring out at the night.
"Impressive, isn't it?" Obi-Wan said, coming to stand next to him.
Qui-Gon glanced at his padawan over his glass of water -- pure water, which was a luxury here. "I believe it's meant to be."
Obi-Wan pulled off his cloak and tossed it over an expensive chair, then paused as he saw the datapad lying nearby with its light blinking. "A message?"
"From the Council." Qui-Gon sipped at his water.
"Already? We've scarcely finished this mission."
"But we *have* finished."
"We should be returning to the Temple so the healers can see to your eye."
Qui-Gon smiled, half-closing his left eye so that he could see the indignant expression on his padawan's face without blurring. "The healers at the Temple on Yavin will do as well, no doubt."
"Yavin?"
"That is where our next assignment will take us."
Obi-Wan scowled, clearly tempted to pick up the datapad and read the message for himself, but too polite to do so. "They have their own Jedi. What do they need us for?"
Qui-Gon shrugged. "Aside from the fact that the Jedi on Yavin are primarily philosophers, it seems the dispute we are to mediate involves the Temple itself. They wish to bring in impartial negotiators."
"Oh." Obi-Wan sighed. "Well, at least on Yavin I can get a *bath*." He wormed a hand inside his tunic to scratch at his chest.
"Certainly, there's plenty of water there." Qui-Gon watched that hand enviously.
Obi-Wan looked up with a suspicious frown. "We don't have to travel on another freighter, do we?"
"No, there will be a displomatic courier ship here to pick us up the day after tomorrow."
Obi-Wan blinked. "So we do get some rest. Good."
"Why so insistent that we should rest, Padawan? The last two weeks have hardly been strenuous."
"You were *wounded*, Master."
"Ah. But I have been healed -- very effectively so." Qui-Gon settled in one of the soft chairs and leaned back at his ease. "I was impressed with your method of Force generation. You must have done quite a bit of research to reach that level of proficiency."
Obi-Wan started to say something, discarded it, and merely said, "Thank you, Master."
"No doubt the Council will find it interesting as well."
Obi-Wan stiffened. "The Council?"
"Of course. They need to know about any new technique that might be useful to other Jedi."
"But, Master, this particular technique...it's rather personal, isn't it?"
"It has a wider range of applications than you may realize, Padawan. Didn't you find it invaluable on Arawoon?"
"Well, yes, Master, but..."
"But?"
"Won't you be in trouble with the Council for, for...initiating a sexual relationship with your padawan?"
"Oh, but I didn't initiate it. It was all your idea, Obi-Wan. And you are an adult. I don't see why the Council should have any objection." Qui-Gon waited to see what effect his words would have.
Obi-Wan stood very still, staring at him. "I'm an adult," he repeated.
"You certainly are."
The padawan took two steps closer to Qui-Gon's chair. "And if it's my idea, there should be no problem," he prompted.
"I don't expect the Council to see any problem, no."
Two more steps. "What about you, Master? Do you see a problem with an adult padawan initiating a relationship with his master?"
Qui-Gon swallowed, his eyes tracing the gleam of golden light across the younger man's cheek and neck. "So long as there are no misunderstandings, no misguided attempts to enforce a commitment...then, no."
Obi-Wan came to a stop with his knees just between Qui-Gon's sprawled thighs. "No commitment," he said slowly. "Just a contract to seek mutual pleasure between two consenting adults."
Qui-Gon nodded, his throat too dry to speak.
A sweet smile spread across Obi-Wan's face. "How convenient," he breathed.
Qui-Gon tried to moisten his lips. "Convenient?"
"I've been wondering what it would be like to kiss you with your lips working properly. Now I can find out." And the padawan bent down, his hands coming to rest on Qui-Gon's shoulders as he brushed their lips together, then flicked out his tongue for a brief taste, then dove in wholeheartedly to a melding of mouths.
Qui-Gon found himself with his arms and lap full of eager young man as Obi-Wan climbed up to straddle him on the chair.
"Mmm," the padawan murmured, releasing the kiss at last. "I knew the beard would be nice."
"I thought you said it would look dignified?"
"And feel wonderful, too." Obi-Wan stropped his cheek back and forth against his master's jaw. "I never got a chance to taste you properly, before. Or touch..." He delved into Qui-Gon's tunic, fingers tracing lines of fire across the older man's collarbone and ribs.
Gasping, Qui-Gon caught at those roving hands. "Obi-Wan," he warned.
"Hmm?" With his hands trapped, Obi-Wan simply used his mouth to best advantage, nuzzling at his master's throat.
"Not here. I have a perfectly good bed in the other room."
Obi-Wan sat back a little, his warm thighs coming to rest atop Qui-Gon's knees. "You have an *enormous* bed in the other room," he corrected happily. "What a lovely idea! Come on." With one smooth move, he was on his feet and pulling Qui-Gon after him toward the bedroom.
Qui-Gon followed obediently, allowing himself a single wistful glance at the back of the younger man's head. Obi-Wan was so eager, so generous with his affections! Had he been as warm with all those other partners? Had they taught him that easy sensuality, that instant willingness to touch and kiss? What would Obi-Wan say if he knew that Qui-Gon longed to capture his heart, to bind and hold him forever?
*No promises, no commitments,* the master reminded himself firmly as he followed his padawan to bed. He would take what he could get, live in the joy of the moment and school his heart to ask for nothing more. It would be enough.
For now.
The End
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6