Adumbration
by AlexPart 14
Qui-Gon stood outside the Jedi Temple, Mace Windu's query ringing in his ears.
"How do you intend to find him?"
It was a daunting task. Coruscant was populated by billions of souls. How indeed?
Qui-Gon closed his eyes and reached out through the Force. But not for Obi-Wan.
He reached out for the clone.
He felt a stab of bitter anger for a moment. Were it not for me, the bond...but quickly banished the thought. He was being self-destructive. Hadn't Yoda told him time and again that the past never returned?
"Make the decision, make another. Remake one past, you cannot."
Qui-Gon half-smiled, began again.
Cleared his mind.
Was calm.
At peace.
Slowly, carefully, he began to sift through the thousands of Force signatures in the Temple and its surrounding area, seeking the clone's. He brushed gently against the minds of the unwary, and veered off politely, never crossing the threshold of the unsuspecting...several dozen young initiates, not yet apprentices, and as yet unschooled in shielding themselves, delightful in their openness. Padawan apprentices in unguarded sleep. Two young Knights, engaged in sex, heedless of all but the pleasure of the moment. Masters who were so powerful that the Force simply emanated from them radiantly, obvious to any Force-adept. On and on he went, searching for that thin trail of Darkness, casting about in his memory for the clone's imprint. He'd connected with him, briefly, and that link, tenuous as it was, was enough to establish...there. And there. He'd found it at last, the signature, and it was like seeing Obi-Wan swathed in deep shadows. Too close to Obi-Wan, that genetic stamp...the clone was a copy, and a copy could never exactly duplicate an original. There was always a weakness, a flaw...something not quite right.
It is not Obi-Wan, he told himself. His stomach did a sickening roll as he recalled the two nights he'd spent with the clone. The confession, Qui-Gon's awkward declaration of love. The joining of their bodies, Qui-Gon believing the whole time he'd achieved his heart's desire. The betrayal, and Qui-Gon knew that he should have known then, that Obi-Wan would never have allowed things to go as far as they had and then run weeping to the Council. Qui-Gon had ignored this uncharacteristic behavior, too self absorbed to see the truth, multifaceted, shifting, yet ultimately evident. The benefit of hindsight, he thought.
The clone claimed to be a Sith Lord. Improbable, but he'd caught unmistakable assurance from the clone...Darth Belial. He was a young man; if what he said were true, if the clone was indeed a Sith Lord, there had to be a Master. A being more twisted and evil, and Qui-Gon thought of his young apprentice in the clutches of such Darkness and shuddered. Obi-Wan had to be rescued. Immediately. Qui-Gon's urge to proceed hastily and his fear for Obi-Wan conflicted with the Jedi ideal of action while at peace, of oneness with the Force. For a moment he thought of the Council's decision.
You are Jedi no more.
And yet. There was the matter of Mace. And his return of Qui-Gon's lightsaber. There was tacit acceptance in that gesture. But his status as Jedi was far from assured.
When Obi-Wan is safe...
Obi-Wan. The sight of his padawan, bound and bruised and clearly weakened, had torn at his heart, but he had seen at once the look of terror and hope on the young man's face, and so he had not shown the fear and anger that raged within. He knew that Obi-Wan, though strong in the Force and possessed of incredible courage, still looked to Qui-Gon in moments of doubt or his own perceived weakness.
He'd looked at Obi-Wan's face, that dear face he knew as well as his own, so young, so ineffably sweet. Obi-Wan, the eager pupil, thirsting for knowledge and enlightenment. The warrior-Jedi, top of his form in drills and tests. The restless boy, still impatient in many ways, but absorbing instruction with commendable humility.And the man, quiet and dignified, yet ready with a quip or a smile in a difficult situation. He looked into the eyes of the man Obi-Wan had become in his nine years of apprenticeship, and he'd been stunned anew by the strength of his emotions. He'd been unable to do more than whisper Obi-Wan's name.
A change had come over Obi-Wan's face then. He'd turned to the man standing over him and spoken to him. Qui-Gon was unable to make out his words or the jailer's reply. But then Obi-Wan had turned back to Qui-Gon, and his eyes were shining. He spoke, and this time Qui-Gon knew what Obi-Wan had said.
"Master...love you. I love you."
Qui-Gon knew then that it was so. Had always been so, and he smiled at Obi-Wan, wanting to weep, not caring about the saber pointed at his chest or the being that wielded it. Obi-Wan loved him.
And now he would be found, if Qui-Gon had to kill or die to find him.
The clone's Force-signature had been captured by Qui-Gon. It would take time to find him, but he had no doubt that he would succeed. When the clone was found, Obi-Wan would be with him, and possibly, Belial's Master. Could Qui-Gon strike down the clone and his Master? Were the Sith as powerful as legend would have him believe? Was it embracing Darkness to strike it down?
A Jedi cannot allow evil to occur...
Qui-Gon caught the faint Darkness again, and held on, suffering the similarity to his padawan.
May the Force guide my steps, he thought.
He began to follow the trail, and disappeared into the teeming crowds.
Obi-Wan lay curled up on the narrow cot, huddled within his robe.
The ship was freezing cold. There was no blanket on the cot, and Belial had not provided him with any additional clothing. He was used to the chill of space, but he'd always been dressed in at least two tunics and his leggings and robe, and his boots. He drew his knees up and tucked them between his arms, still manacled at the wrists.
It would take less than a Standard day to reach Sullust, if his memory served him correctly. The ship was small, but its tanks seemed large enough to make the journey without refueling. No chance for escape before they reached their destination.
The Zabrakian, thought Obi-Wan. There was a chance there, no matter how slim; Obi-Wan had seen the slight hesitation in the man's expression. He hadn't seen him at all since they'd boarded, though; Obi-Wan would have to be patient.
He shifted, and suddenly realized with some astonishment that his ribs no longer hurt. Nor did his shoulder, nor did any other part of his body, though hours before the pain had been considerable. Someone had healed him as he lay unconscious. Belial, or the guard? The guard seemed to have some measure of compassion; but Belial was perverse enough to heal him before hurting him again.
He would not ask. Let the truth reveal itself.
The beams crossing the doorway disappeared and Belial stepped through, still wearing his medic's disguise, though he'd removed the cap. His braid stood out starkly against the dark fabric. He carried a tray with a cup and a bowl on it. He turned, raised a hand, and the beams shot back into place.
"Obi-Wan." His voice was affable. "How are you feeling?"
Obi-Wan returned the clone's gaze flatly, choosing not to respond. Belial was so unpredictable. Obi-Wan, in the interests of his own safety, strength, and sanity, decided that silence was the best response to anything the clone said.
Belial sauntered to the cot and sat on the edge. He patted Obi-Wan's thigh, balancing the tray on his lap. A delicious odor drifted from the tray, and Obi-Wan's stomach clenched tightly. How long had it been since he'd eaten?
"Hungry?"
Obi-Wan considered. If he made no response, Belial might very well starve him.
"Yes."
Belial smiled. "Then eat."
Obi-Wan sat up and glared at the clone suspiciously. Was this a trick of some kind? But Belial set the tray between them, and Obi-Wan looked down, saw a thin, wonderful-smelling soup inside the bowl. Hesitantly he picked it up, afraid that the clone would dash it from his hand.
Belial simply smiled at him.
Obi-Wan sipped at the soup. Hot and savory, it hit his throat and stomach like a blessing. He consumed it cautiously, not wanting to get sick. He set it down and took the cup and took a long draught of cold, sweet water.
Oh, Force, it was wonderful, and he felt some of his strength return.
"Poor padawan."
Obi-Wan looked at the clone, startled. There was an unexpected sadness in his voice. He's provoking you, Obi-Wan thought to himself. But the clone's face...it was reflective, his eyes focused on the opposite wall.
"How must it feel to be torn from the Order, from your home, from your Master who loves you so very much?"
There was no mockery, and Obi-Wan stared at him. He's mad, he must be, I've seen him go from rage to delight to lust in mere seconds. He took another drink of water.
"I envy you the depth of your experience, Obi-Wan. Pain is as natural to me as breathing. My Master taught me to embrace pain. It must be amazing to feel its newness."
"Shall we trade places?" said Obi-Wan, a trifle bitterly.
Belial's mouth twisted in a grim smile. "You would never hurt me as I've hurt you."
"No," replied Obi-Wan. "I would not."
"I'm going to hurt you again, Obi-Wan."
"I thought as much."
"How much do you think you can bear?"
"I shall bear what I must until I escape."
"Or until Qui-Gon comes for you."
Obi-Wan turned away from the clone. Belial set the depleted tray on the floor and ran a hand down Obi-Wan's back. "You're so transparent, Padawan Knight. You still think that he's going to save you."
Obi-Wan's voice was a low murmur. "He will come."
"I know that, Obi-Wan. I'm quite looking forward to it."
"Why...so that you can take his life?"
"Not necessarily."
Obi-Wan faced the clone again. His voice dripped scorn. "You think to turn him? He is and will always be a Jedi, no matter what the Council says. He will never turn."
"Do you know, he said the very same thing about you...how very amusing. In any case, I haven't decided Master Qui-Gon's fate yet."
"Take care, Belial. You may find that he will decide your fate."
"Jedi...it is entirely possible that none of us may survive this. Have you forgotten toward whom we travel?"
"Your Master. Is he aware of your treachery?"
"My intentions, you mean?" Belial shrugged. "Possibly. It matters little."
"I will never consent to become your apprentice, and if you die, you die in vain."
"You wound me, Obi-Wan. But remember that I can always hurt you more."
Belial rose from the cot and faced him. "On your knees."
Obi-Wan glared at him. "No."
"Get on your knees, Obi-Wan, or when we land on Sullust, I'll kill ten citizens at random."
Shaking with helpless anger, Obi-Wan got off the cot and knelt before Belial, who began to unfasten his trousers.
"Now...we have unfinished business, Padawan. You're going to take me inside your mouth, and you're going to pleasure me. If you fail to satisfy me, or if you injure me even slightly, people will die, I promise you." He grinned. "I assume you've done this before. I'll reciprocate, eventually." He placed a hand on either side of Obi-Wan's head and guided him close to his penis.
"Open your mouth. Open it."
Obi-Wan shut his eyes as he felt the tip of Belial's penis pressing against his firmly closed lips. I can't do this, he thought.
"Oh, but you can. Open." The clone's voice was silkily menacing.
Obi-Wan opened his mouth, and nearly gagged as Belial pushed himself in.
"Ah...that's good, Obi-Wan. So good."
Obi-Wan's bound hands had clenched into tight fists, his fingernails digging into his palms. Belial had defeated him again. It was perform or suffer the death of innocents. The clone's penis started to harden and swell inside Obi-Wan's mouth, and he wanted to vomit. The soup began to rise, and he forced it back down.
Belial remained perfectly still, his hands still grasping Obi-Wan's head by the hair. He sighed.
"That's good...ohh, yes, padawan..."
Obi-Wan's chest hitched in a silent sob, and Belial gasped at the constriction.
Qui-Gon, please. I can't take this anymore. I can't.
Belial's hips started to undulate slowly, and he groaned softly.
"There..."
Obi-Wan increased the pressure of his mouth and of his tongue, praying that the clone would hurry.
Belial pumped into him with more urgency.
On and on he went, insatiable, and Obi-Wan sucked and licked and pulled, wretched and alone, his dark twin fucking his mouth mercilessly. He was horrified to feel his own penis beginning to stir. Aroused, against his will? It couldn't be, and he fought against it, willing himself to calm and failing. His mind and soul cried out for deliverance as his body did the clone's bidding.
Belial was bucking against him now, and he came with a strangled cry, hot fluid bursting into Obi-Wan's mouth. Obi-Wan pulled away and the clone was on him, his hand gripping Obi-Wan's face, forcing his mouth closed.
"Swallow it, Obi-Wan, like the little whore you are."
Obi-Wan shook his head frantically. He wouldn't, he wouldn't...
"They'll die, Obi-Wan."
Oh, gods, how much more was he to endure for the sake of others?
He swallowed convulsively.
Belial shoved him away, and Obi-Wan crashed to the floor.
Belial re-fastened his trousers. "I said I'd reciprocate, and I will, Obi-Wan, though not now. I think that you'd like me to, though, wouldn't you?" He smiled archly at Obi-Wan, who scrubbed at his mouth with the hem of his robe.
A wave of the hand, and the beams disappeared as the clone walked through the doorway. Once again they slid into place.
Obi-Wan waited until the clone had disappeared. He crawled to the tray that had been left behind and picked up the water cup. Took a draught, and rinsed his mouth, bitter with the taste of the clone's semen.
He held the cup in his hands for a moment, then hurled it at the wall, watching it shatter against the duristeel.
Qui-Gon had traced the signature for hours, and it had led him here.
He craned his neck upwards. The Galactic Senate complex. Massive and sprawling, it was easy enough to hide within. He concentrated and felt the whisper of Darkness again. He frowned. How had Belial hidden Obi-Wan from sight? The hologram he'd seen had revealed little, but it was no Senate chamber or apartment he was familiar with. It had appeared gloomy and chill, unlike the Senate's usual frenetic activity.
Persons of all species hurried past the tall Jedi, intent and self-absorbed. Qui-Gon quieted his mind and reached again.
There was a shimmering in the Force. It beckoned him in two directions...up and down.
Qui-Gon considered. Would the clone have been so brazen as to hold his apprentice in plain sight? Possibly...his eyes suddenly fastened upon a man, secretive and tense, hurrying into one of the corridors that led to the sublevels.
Of course.
Qui-Gon followed the man into the corridor.
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