~*~

Of all of the secret doubts Obi-Wan Kenobi had ever held in his heart, doubt in the love Qui-Gon Jinn bore for him had never been one of them.

Until Naboo.

Sitting numbly in his quarters on Coruscant, Obi-Wan tried to force himself to replay the last few weeks yet again, searching for an answer to the questions that haunted his dreams and nightmares.

Chaotic thoughts slowly stilled as a lifetime of control took over. Sifting through the events of the last mission, Obi-Wan let thoughts fall away until he was left with only one.

Tatooine.

It had all started on Tatooine. That's when the first niggling doubts had wormed their way into his mind and his heart. Qui-Gon had left him with a kiss--a kiss that had held such gentle promise and tender love. Letting him go into the city to search for parts had been agony, but Obi-Wan had sustained himself with the thoughts of what would come when the mission was finally over and they were at leisure to explore the passion that had finally grown too large to be ignored.

But that had been the last time Qui-Gon Jinn had shown any affection for his Padawan.

~*~

The spiky hair felt wonderful under his palm, and it was hard to pull back and let him go.

"I really must look at the generator before you leave, Master," Obi-Wan said, smiling indulgently. Qui-Gon snaked an arm out and pulled his beloved closer against his chest, ignoring his Padawan's squeak of indignity as he landed half across his Master's lap.

"Not too much longer," Qui-Gon whispered against the side of his face. "After this mission--"

"Don't rush, love," Obi-Wan replied, and Qui-Gon felt soft fingers sifting through his hair as Obi-Wan let out a sigh of contentment. "We've been moving so slowly already--no need to forsake all that patience for a moment of passion."

"A moment, my Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon asked archly. "I assure you, Padawan, that the day I last but a moment in your arms is the day I'm one with the Force." Brushing a kiss against the golden eyebrow, Qui-Gon smiled.

"I'm going to check the hyperdrive, Master," Obi-Wan said, leaning in to brush Qui-Gon's lips softly with his own.

"I'll be along shortly," Qui-Gon conceded, releasing his Padawan and setting him gently on his feet.

Watching the serious young man slip through the door, Qui-Gon let a smile bloom on his face. Pride was perhaps an unbecoming trait in a Jedi Master, but nothing could keep him from feeling proud about the bright spark of life that was Obi-Wan Kenobi. So serious, so dedicated--and so capable of giving. Obi-Wan had healed Qui-Gon's soul with his youthful devotion, and healed Qui-Gon's heart with his mature love.

The glowing pride in his Padawan lasted throughout the day, a dull warmth in the back of his head that calmed him as he sat around the dinner table, enjoying the company of the Skywalker woman and her exuberant son. When restlessness prevented sleep it was Obi-Wan he thought of as he strolled to the edge of the desert, hoping to find some confirmation in the Force or in his heart that the rather reckless decisions of the day had been the right ones.

The Force wave that sent him sprawling on the ground was so unexpected that it took Qui-Gon a few moments to figure out what was going on. And by that point it was too late.

He was struggling to clear his head when the collar was snapped around his neck, delivering a painful shock when he tried to reach for the Force.

A boot in the back of the head flattened him again, strong hands wrenching his arms behind his back to be locked in elbow-cuffs, making it impossible to move his upper body.

Qui-Gon's mind reeled away from the possibility that he had been so thoroughly bested. Kneeling in the sand, he concentrated on the collar, trying to find a weakness that would allow him to contact Obi-Wan along their bond. If nothing else, his Padawan must know that he was captured.

A sharp pain in his arm made him start, and his attacker laughed.

"Thank you for the blood sample, Master Jinn," the cold voice said, sending shivers down his spine. "You'll understand, though, if I don't keep you awake. You are rather dangerous."

Another sharp pain, and the world faded.

~*~

"Master Obi-Wan?"

Obi-Wan dragged himself up out of his meditations with practiced speed, opening his eyes to see the boy who stood in front of him.

"Yes, Padawan?" he asked, keeping his voice carefully even.

"I have finished the task you assigned me. I was wondering if I could have some time to work on the present I'm making for mo--for my mother." Anakin shifted uneasily beneath Obi-Wan's gaze, his fingers tangling into the sleeves of his shirt.

"Of course, Anakin." A shot of guilt sped through Obi-Wan at the thought that he'd been neglecting Anakin Skywalker, but there was little he could do. Delicate training with a child of his power was not something to be taken lightly--and until Obi-Wan could find peace in his heart, it was not a task he was up to. "Take the time you need, and feel free to interrupt me again if you need anything."

"Thank you, Master," Anakin said with a hesitant smile, bowing a little clumsily as he backed up. He hesitated a moment by the door before turning to face Obi-Wan again. "Can I do anything to help you, Master?"

"Thank you, Anakin, but no." Forcing a smile, Obi-Wan tried to send reassurance along their bond, wishing for the first time that the bond they shared was even a fraction of the strength of the one he had shared with Qui-Gon. "You have been very patient with me, and for that I thank you."

"I--I understand," Anakin said, his lower lip trembling a little. "I miss him too."

"I know you do," Obi-Wan said with a smile. "He'd be proud of you for doing so well."

"Thank you, Master." With another smile, Anakin ducked out the door.

The smile fell off of Obi-Wan's face. "I'm not up to this, Master," he whispered, reaching out with his senses once again and searching in vain for the thread of Qui-Gon in the Force. "You are supposed to be one with the Force. You are supposed to be able to come to me. Have I truly fallen so low that you no longer want to?"

Shaking his head at his own display of temperamental self-pity, Obi-Wan shoved emotion aside and set himself back to the task at hand.

~*~

When Qui-Gon Jinn finally awoke, he was staring at himself.

Himself stared back.

Chained to a wall, the collar blocking him from the Force, Qui-Gon could do nothing but stare at the perfect representation of himself that sat calmly across the room, blue eyes alight with an emotion that made the familiar eyes seem foreign.

The clone--for that was what it must be--stared back. And smiled.

"We had the resources for one speed cloning," that same cold voice informed Qui-Gon, the actual body standing somewhere out of his view. "Very expensive, and not always successful, but in this case worth it. You should be honored it was you. We spent a great deal of money on you."

Turning his head slowly, Qui-Gon caught sight of a humanoid with red and black tattoos covering his head and neck. The man smiled, a cold, haunting expression. "He's completely human, exactly like you in every respect," the man said, meeting Qui-Gon's eyes and smiling wider. "The only difference is that he has recording devices in his head." Pacing across the room, the stranger grabbed Qui-Gon's chin, his breath foul as he spoke the next words in a low whisper. "This way, you can watch as we destroy your Padawan's sanity."

Qui-Gon closed his eyes, blocking out the mocking smile, but he couldn't escape the words that followed. "Your Padawan is the Chosen One, Qui-Gon Jinn. The one who has the chance to bring balance to the Force, or to destroy it all together. The future of the world rests upon how well he trains Anakin Skywalker, and whether he can keep the boy from falling to the dark." The voice grew silky, and one fingernail was dragged down Qui-Gon's cheek. "We intend to see him fail. And you will help us."

~*~

It had been easy to mistake the reason behind the change in Qui-Gon. Having found the boy, the most powerful mind any of them had ever seen, it was easy to believe that Qui-Gon had been lost in his new charge. Obi-Wan had been indulgent and understanding--Qui-Gon's name was linked throughout the galaxy with his tendency to pick up strays, and at first Anakin Skywalker had been no different.

But then everything had changed. There had been no signs of affection after Qui-Gon returned from Mos Espa. Qui-Gon moved his belongings into a cabin far away from Obi-Wan's, claiming that they had both been lax in concentration. Obi-Wan's tentative approaches had been rebuked with a harshness that at first confused him, and later broke his heart.

At first he thought it was a lesson. Thought there was something to be learned--for if there was one constant in his life, it was that Qui-Gon would never hurt him.

He clung to that belief until Qui-Gon came into his room late the second night they were in transit. There had been no tenderness, no soft touches or whispers of love.

There had been the Master. And he had demanded.

~*~

His cell had been much more bearable before they brought the view screen in.

The view screen played out the world through the eyes of the clone, and Qui-Gon was helpless to turn away.

He watched as the man pretending to be him reprimanded Obi-Wan at every turn, saying mean and spiteful things to the young man that caused those brilliant gray eyes to go dull with hurt.

He watched as the clone moved his things from Obi-Wan's room, and the confused pain in Obi-Wan's eyes was enough to break Qui-Gon's heart.

But when he saw the clone entering his Padawan's room late at night, nothing could stop the rage that welled up inside him.

Fingers locked around the collar, tugging viciously as he tried to free himself. He ignored the way the collar burned into his palms and fingers, ignored the repeated shocks to his nervous system as he threw burst after burst of pure energy at the wall holding him back from touching his Padawan with his mind.

Eyes wide with horror, Qui-Gon watched through the clone's eyes as his Padawan was pinned to the bed and violated.

~*~

At first it had been as if his dreams were coming true. Qui-Gon stood, silhouetted by the light from the hallway, hair flowing loose over his shoulders and body clad only in thin sleep pants.

His eyes had wandered over the sight he had seen so many times, only now Qui-Gon stepped into the room, shutting the door and moving to the side of the bed.

"You desire me," Qui-Gon said softly, voice full of silky promise. Obi-Wan smiled up at his Master, lips twitching.

"You know I do," he responded huskily, one hand reaching out to trace the line of Qui-Gon's arm. "I thought you we had agreed to wait until the end of this mission, however."

"What you want, you will get," Qui-Gon responded, his voice almost unfamiliar. "Lay back down."

Confused, Obi-Wan obeyed, pressing himself back into the mattress. He smiled slowly up at his Master, opening his mouth to ask a question.

He wasn't allowed to make a sound. A large hand clamped down on his mouth at the same time as another hand stripped his pants roughly from his body. Obi-Wan tried to move his head but the fingers tightened, bruising the skin of Obi-Wan's face as the pain increased.

A harsh whimper escaped his throat as Qui-Gon reached to drop his own pants, stepping out of them and climbing on top of his Padawan.

"This is what you wanted," he whispered harshly in Obi-Wan's ear, fingers still digging into his face. Pulling back to smile mockingly at the confused young man, Qui-Gon repositioned himself and slid home with one savage thrust.

Obi-Wan arched his back, wanting to scream with the pain. His voice came out only as a harsh whimper, body trembling with agony as he tried in vain to gather his concentration enough to relax his muscles with the Force.

He succeeded in making the rough passage easier, opening his eyes when he had regained some control and reaching along their bond, trying to open himself to his Master.

His probing mind met with a solid wall, blocking him out coldly, harshly. The shock threw him back into his own head, concentration wavering as he opened his eyes, trying to see into his Master's heart . . . trying to reach the man he knew was inside.

Staring up into those blue eyes that were so familiar and yet so foreign, Obi-Wan fought down tears. The blue eyes stared back, no hint of emotion in them. Shuddering, Obi-Wan let the Force holding him open slip, letting the pain drive him deeper and deeper into despair.

The pain was incredible, tearing him open in body as well as soul. Letting his eyes slide closed, Obi-Wan endured it, trying not to do anything to anger his Master further. Somehow--he had done something wrong.

The painful thrusts continued for some time more before Qui-Gon released him, sliding off of the bed gracefully and turning to face him, ignoring the angry erection as his eyes slid mockingly over Obi-Wan's shivering body.

"Next time you want to fuck your Master, keep in mind that a Padawan's duty is to serve." Standing next to the bed, Qui-Gon crossed his arms over his chest and stared at the trembling young man. "Serve me, Padawan. It's what you wanted."

Obi-Wan rose numbly, to hurt to even question.

~*~

"NO!"

His hands were tattered and bloody from clawing at the chains. His entire body was trembling from the affects of the collar, and there were bruises on his neck and hands where he had fought to be free of the shackles holding him.

"You like watching this?" the tattooed man asked from the far corner, arms draped over his chest. His captor smiled, turning back towards the screen. "Come, Qui-Gon. You're about to see how well your Padawan can please. Aren't you the least bit interested?"

"It's not me," Qui-Gon sobbed, ignoring the tears that rolled down his cheeks as his eyes slid shut. "Obi-Wan, you must know . . . you must,"

A boot connected with his face, sending him sprawling. "Keep your eyes open, Qui-Gon Jinn," the stranger commanded, moving back to the far corner of the room. "Every time you close your eyes, your Padawan gets fucked again. Next time you won't be so careful of him though."

"It's not me," Qui-Gon whispered again, fingers curling around the collar, seeking the pain as he would an old friend. It was nothing more than he deserved.

"Watch him strive to please you," his captor purred, yellow eyes fixed to the screen. "Maybe when we finally take him I'll allow him to please you for a few moments. Only if you're good, however."

Horror-filled eyes fixed on the screen, Qui-Gon didn't answer.

~*~

It was nothing like the dreams, and nothing like the fantasies. Qui-Gon refused to touch him, standing there with arms crossed as if none of his ministrations were having the slightest affect.

When the body in front of him finally achieved physical release, Obi-Wan glanced up hopefully at the man standing in front of him.

Bored eyes stared back. "Another pointer, my Padawan. Next time you want to fuck your Master, try to have at least a few of the skills necessary."

Without another word Qui-Gon pulled his pants back on and left the room, leaving Obi-Wan kneeling naked on the floor, tears only now beginning to flow.

~*~

Something had been wrong then--and he'd known it. Of course he'd known it. He was hardly a fool--and he knew Qui-Gon Jinn almost better than he knew himself. The man would no more rape his Padawan--his love--then he would turn Sith.

Letting his eyes drift open, Obi-Wan reached up by habit to catch his braid between his fingers, flinching when his hand met only air.

Not a Padawan any more. But not really a Knight. Not until he could figure out what had happened to him. Not until he could move on.

Shifting slightly, Obi-Wan cast a look around the room that was his now--the room that had belonged to Qui-Gon Jinn for so long. All around him was the familiar aura, the feeling of safety and love that he had associated with his Master for so long . . .

The same feeling that had been lacking ever since the Queen's ship had left Tatooine.

He should have known after Qui-Gon left his cabin on that night that something was wrong--but he had been so confused. So naive--and so willing to believe anything that gave him hope for the future. Anything that explained why his Master had hurt him.

~*~

The visible bruises had been healed, and Obi-Wan had spent a good deal of time making it comfortable for himself to sit and stand again. Staring at his reflection in the mirror he wiped the tear-stains from his cheeks angrily, mind still shying away from the events of the night before.

There had to be an explanation. Had to be a rational reason that Qui-Gon had stumbled into his quarters and used him as if he were nothing more than a cheap portside pleasure boy.

Hearing the knock on his door he steeled himself, casting all his emotion aside and assuming the stoic, classic look of the Jedi. Unruffled, unbothered, and confident in his place in the world.

It melted away when he opened the door to see Qui-Gon hanging precariously from the doorframe, his entire body trembling. Sweat beaded on the flushed forehead, and his eyes were fuzzy.

Obi-Wan barely caught the older man as he slumped to the floor.

"Master?" Obi-Wan breathed, lowering Qui-Gon as gently as he could to the floor. The large body was still trembling, Qui-Gon twisting in the grips of fever.

"I don't know what is wrong," the Master rasped, his voice nearly gone. "I--I can't remember things right. Did I bring the boy back? Where--where are we?" Shaking his head, the blue eyes stared up into his. "I can't feel you in our bond, my Padawan. Something--something is wrong."

Mind flying frantically, Obi-Wan laid a hand aside his Master's face, trying to reach him along their bond. "I can't find you, Master. Can you reach the Force?"

For a few moments Qui-Gon's eyes unfocused before he shook his head, eyes drifting shut. "I can not, my Obi-Wan. I can't even feel the Force around me." The blue eyes slid open again, suddenly wide with terror. Qui-Gon lifted a trembling hand to brush at Obi-Wan's cheek. "Padawan, I have had such horrible dreams. Tell me--tell me that they are not true--tell me that I did not hurt you . . ." One tear leaked out of the blue eyes, trailing off into the silvering hair. "I would rather die than hurt you--please tell me it was only a nightmare . . ."

~*~

"You know better," Qui-Gon whispered, his voice gone hoarse from screaming. Staring at the viewscreen, he tried to hold back tears as the face of his Padawan softened. "Oh, Obi-Wan, do you really think so low of me? You believe that I could abuse you like that? Even drugged, even sick or possessed, nothing could make me hurt you . . ."

"Amazing drug, isn't it?" the mocking voice asked from the door, and Qui-Gon tried to stop his tears as his enemy strode into the room. "No harm done to the body, and the clone is still completely in control even though it seems he is caught in the depths of fever. It took a great deal of designing, that drug--but it is useful in convincing trusting fools of our helplessness."

"He will know better," Qui-Gon stated confidently, turning to gaze calmly at the tattooed man. "My Padawan is not a fool. He knows that nothing would make me treat him so."

Gesturing to the screen, the enemy smiled. "See for yourself."

~*~

"They are not true, my Master," Obi-Wan said softly, stroking a cheek with a soft finger. "You have not left your rooms since we boarded." A soft application of the Force convinced the man lying beneath him of the words. In Qui-Gon's present state, bringing up the encounter would only hurt him more. There would be time, when the mission was over . . . they could talk about it. Qui-Gon would know what to do. They would make it better . . .

And in the meantime, Obi-Wan would have to protect Qui-Gon. Protect him from himself, if necessary.

"I love you, my Master," Obi-Wan whispered, leaning down to brush the cracked lips with his own. "Let me take you to your quarters."

Busy hauling Qui-Gon to his feet, he missed the mocking smile plastered on the suddenly harsh face.

~*~

"I was very sorry to hear of your loss."

Obi-Wan nodded absently, not even turning at the platitude that had become a mantra over the last week. Everyone was sorry to hear of his loss. Everyone was sorry that the Jedi had lost such a powerful man from their ranks. Everyone had something to say to the Apprentice Qui-Gon had left behind.

It was starting to grate on his nerves. Everywhere he went, someone wanted to touch him. To hold his hand or pretend they understood. The words only tired him now, made him long to escape from the Temple.

But there was nowhere to go. There were no missions in the near future. Anakin needed to adjust to Temple life. The Chosen One had to be closely observed by the Council that Obi-Wan had defied in taking him as a Padawan.

He wasn't sure it had been the right thing anymore. At the time he had thought he was obeying Qui-Gon's last wish . . . but the more he meditated on the events of the past, the more he was convinced that something was terribly wrong.

"Is it okay if I go and spend the night with some of the other initiates?" Anakin asked, appearing as if by magic in front of his Master. Obi-Wan blinked, looking around the dining room with confused eyes. He had lost himself in thought again--had been sitting here for far longer than he should have.

"Of course, Anakin," he said, trying to force a smile. "Are you getting along all right with the other students?"

"Some of them don't like me," Anakin replied honestly, a serious look on his small face. "But there's a few who I get along with. One girl, she's a Padawan already, and she likes to build stuff too. Her Master let her buy supplies with the money she earned doing extra chores, and she's gonna let me help her put this droid together. It's gonna do translations for her Master, like C-3PO was gonna do for mom." His fingers tangled in his sleeves again, a nervous habit Obi-Wan had noticed over the past few days. "Master, d'you think maybe I could do some extra chores so that I could earn a little money too? I know I don't have much time, since I've got a lot to catch up on . . ."

"I think we could arrange something," Obi-Wan said quickly, reaching out a hand to tousle Anakin's hair affectionately. "I know of a friend who desperately needs a mechanic for a project she's working on. How about I ask her if she can pay you to help her?"

"I wouldn't make one of your friends pay," Anakin said hastily, eyes wide. "I don't mind doing work, it's fun and a good way to learn."

"She'd be happy to pay, Anakin. And I'll talk to her tonight. You have fun with your friends, but make sure to tell me if you're going to be late tomorrow. Remember, we have 'sabre practice right after breakfast."

Anakin bowed awkwardly and Obi-Wan bit his lip to hide a smile. "I'd never be late," Anakin assured his Master hastily, smiling widely. "Specially not for 'sabre practice."

"Enjoy yourself, Padawan," Obi-Wan said smiling. Rising he gathered his tray and headed towards the opposite side of the room. "I'll be in our rooms, meditating. Call if you need me."

Dumping his tray off, Obi-Wan strode off towards his rooms, hoping to avoid any more well wishers. Dodging down a few empty hallways he managed to get to his door unmolested, slipping inside and dropping his cloak on the couch.

Settling into Qui-Gon's chair, he closed his eyes and cast his mind back to the Naboo mission, seeking out other instances where something had been definitely not right.

~*~

"I take Anakin Skywalker as my Padawan learner."

The words tore through his soul, ripping him apart in a way nothing had before. He thought he'd known pain when the drugged Qui-Gon Jinn had violated him, but at least his Master hadn't known what he was doing then.

Now Qui-Gon stood, rational and aware, tearing out his Padawan's-his love's-soul out and bearing it for the world to see.

For the Council to see.

Reaching out along the bond, Obi-Wan tried to get some sense of what his Master was thinking, but a shield the likes of which he'd never seen before slammed up, blocking him from his Master's mind.

Mind reeling, Obi-Wan stumbled a step forward.

::Say you're ready,:: a voice commanded in his head, his Master's voice. Cold and totally unloving, the voice ripped at him. But he was helpless to deny it's call.

"I am ready to take the Trials," he found himself saying, the words sounding foreign on his tongue. He was no more ready to take the Trials than he was to launch into flight from the Council window. Qui-Gon had told him a year or two was all that was left-but he had made it clear that Obi-Wan needed that time.

Now he wanted to toss him aside for a brighter student. A more powerful student.

"He has much to learn of the living Force," the stranger Qui-Gon said, glancing at Obi-Wan. There was no compassion in those cold blue eyes. ::More to learn than I'll ever have time to teach you-:: the voice mocked inside his head, the blue eyes growing even colder. "But he is . . . competent. There is little left he can learn from me." ::And little left I care to teach you.::

Stunned by the mental attack, Obi-Wan stepped back again, breaking away from that cold gaze. His eyes swept over the Council, trying to decide if anyone had heard his Master's words. Something must be wrong--

--but no one on the Council stirred. Yoda and Windu looked concerned, but Obi-Wan couldn't tell if it was over Qui-Gon's stubbornness or something more. The rest of the Council members seemed almost bored, as if this was simply another annoyance courtesy of Qui-Gon Jinn.

If the greatest minds of the Jedi found nothing amiss with Qui-Gon's behavior, who was he to question it?

Mind whirling, Obi-Wan ignored the rest of the session, curling in on himself in pain.

~*~

"He's blown his cover," Qui-Gon mumbled softly, voice cracked and hoarse. He was alone in the room, but had found a few days ago that talking out loud to himself helped keep him grounded in reality. A number of drugs coursed through his system, some making him light headed and others confusing his sense of time. But all of them left him capable of comprehending what was happening on the view screen in front of him.

They'd made sure of that.

Watching the clone in front of the Council, Qui-Gon felt his first stirrings of hope. Surely Yoda would catch the difference between the clone and his former Padawan. Surely Mace, who had known Qui-Gon well in the days of early Knighthood, would sense the difference between his old comrade and the man who stood before him.

Surely Obi-Wan would realize that Qui-Gon would never say the things he was saying. Would never cast his Padawan aside before he was ready.

Of course, Obi-Wan had believed that Qui-Gon would rape him.

That hurt perhaps more than anything else. What had he done that made Obi-Wan believe him capable of that kind of behavior? If he ever got out of here, that was something they would have to discuss at length . . .

Contrary to his hopes, no one stopped the clone as he lead Obi-Wan out of the Council chambers. The brief glance back over the clone's shoulder revealed Obi-Wan, face closed and eyes cast towards the floor.

"I will make it up to you," Qui-Gon whispered softly, fingers curling around the collar again even though his hands were already burned raw.

"Would you like to know what the clone was saying inside his mind while they had that adorable little scene?" Qui-Gon's captor asked mockingly, standing just inside the door with his arms draped over his chest.

"No." It didn't matter what he said, the man would tell him anyway.

He did.

And Qui-Gon cried.

~*~

From that point on, nothing had been certain.

Sometimes Qui-Gon treated him as a friend, and for those few moments Obi-Wan could almost see the man he loved peeking through.

Those times were few, however. Most of the time Qui-Gon simply ignored him, spending large amounts of time talking to the young Skywalker boy. Qui-Gon took cabins far away from Obi-Wan's on the return trip to Naboo, raising one of those eloquent eyebrows in a mocking gesture when Obi-Wan looked at him questioningly.

His education had all but stopped. Usually Qui-Gon spoke to him while on missions, meeting with him in the evening to discuss their perceptions of the day. Now Qui-Gon met with Anakin, saying things in soft whispers that always cut off when Obi-Wan stumbled upon them.

Obi-Wan had taken to hiding in his cabin, hoping that the end of this mission would bring answers.

~*~

"You must always strike first, Anakin," Qui-Gon said, blue eyes meeting blue eyes seriously. "There will be times when someone wants to kill a Jedi. This must never happen. The Jedi are the only ones who can keep peace. They are the only hope for the common people. If your life is ever in danger, strike first and strike hard."

~*~

"Oh Obi-Wan, what have I done?" Qui-Gon moaned, eyes bloodshot as he stared at the wide blue eyes on the screen. Anakin was already so off balance--so confused and malleable . . .

And now the clone was twisting him . . . telling him things that should never be said. Telling him things that he would believe--because they came from the man he thought he should trust.

It was that more than anything else that snapped him out of his haze. He would not let Obi-Wan's life be destroyed, and he would not stand to see Anakin Skywalker turned.

Peeling burned hands from the collar, Qui-Gon stared down at his raw fingers before curling them into fists.

He was a Jedi Master. It was time to start acting like it.

~*~

"Kenobi."

"Need to speak with you, I do, Knight Kenobi," Master Yoda's familiar voice came over Obi-Wan's comlink. "Immediately."

For no reason at all, the ground suddenly seemed to drop out from under Obi-Wan's feet. For a few seconds he was struck with an overwhelming feeling of foreboding, as if things were coming to a head.

What things, he knew not.

"Of course, Master Yoda," Obi-Wan responded, voice even. "Where would you like me to go?"

"My quarters," Yoda responded. "Now, you should come."

Tucking his comlink back into his belt, Obi-Wan turned to Anakin. "Can you continue working on this for a while, Padawan? I'm sorry to leave you--"

"S'okay, Master. I understand you have to do what Yoda says." Smiling slightly, Anakin let his arms drop from the position they'd been held in. "I can do this kata by myself now. I'll just practice."

"Thank you, Anakin. You are a blessing to me." Crouching down, Obi-Wan met Anakin's eyes squarely. "How about we go flying tonight? You've worked hard and deserve a break."

"If you want to," Anakin said, unable to keep the excitement out of his eyes. "I'll work on this kata until you get back."

"Thank you," Obi-Wan repeated, rising and striding towards the door. "I'm very proud of you."

"Thank you, Master," Anakin called after him.

Smiling slightly, Obi-Wan strode down the hallways of the temple, headed unerringly towards the old Master's room. Something--a premonition of sorts--told him that this was it. He had the feeling that destiny was roaring towards him, and the events of the next few moments would be pivotal.

Yoda was seated when Obi-Wan arrived, bowing deeply before settling into the old chair the older Master gestured to.

"Things are not right," Yoda said suddenly, his eyes focused on something over Obi-Wan's shoulder. "Examine your mind I would, young Kenobi. Disturbing dreams I have had."

Obi-Wan tensed in his seat. "What kinds of dreams, Master Yoda?"

"Dreams of Qui-Gon. In pain. Believe, I do, that he still lives."

The world fell out from underneath Obi-Wan as his hands clenched on the arms of his chair. "Those are not light words, Master Yoda, and should not be said in jest."

"A bond with him I still have," Yoda said, his ancient eyes focusing suddenly directly on Obi-Wan. "It is not broken. Shut off, yes. Broken--no. And sever such a bond, death would."

Obi-Wan's mind flailed. "I--would I sense the difference between a broken bond and a closed bond?"

"You, perhaps not. Hard from the inside to see, such things are. I was lucky to see such a thing. Look into your mind, I would. Examine the bond."

Bowing his head, Obi-Wan dropped every scrap of shielding he had without a second thought. The chance that Qui-Gon was alive--the chance that there was an explanation for the last few weeks . . . it was something Obi-Wan would give the world for.

When his mind and soul was laid bare, he lifted his eyes to meet the ancient Master's.

"Tell me he's alive," he whispered.

~*~

Qui-Gon lost track of how much time it took for him to finally breach the restraints put upon him. Many days had passed since he had watched Obi-Wan shed tears over the death of a man who was not him. It had been heart-wrenching--seeing the light go out in his beloved's eyes and sitting helplessly by.

But it gave Qui-Gon reason to fight. The longer he stayed trapped here, the longer his Padawan would suffer. That in itself was motivation enough to keep him going even when it seemed all hope was lost.

He had figured out a few days ago that he could feign over-reaction to the drugs coursing through his system. The people administering the many sedatives had come to the false conclusion that Qui-Gon's body was becoming hyper-sensitive to the chemicals, and they had cut back his dosages significantly. In reality, his body had slowly worked to build immunity, so that the now smaller dosages hardly affected him at all.

Now that the clone was gone and the screen was removed, he garnered less and less attention. His enemies seemed to be simply saving him as some kind of reserve weapon in case their other plans failed.

For Qui-Gon, it was the perfect opportunity.

Less and less supervision, coupled with the decreasing dosages, had given him the chance to find the weakness in the collar. A small weakness--but one he could use.

Examination had revealed it to be a Force inhibitor that cut his brain off from the currents of the Force . . . but it only focused on the brain. That was the weakness Qui-Gon hoped to exploit.

All bonds formed with other Force sensitive were really double bonds, a strong bond between minds with a weaker shadow bond between spirits. Mind speech came from the bond between minds, but intuitive feelings and emotions traveled the spirit bond.

No one that Qui-Gon knew had ever tried to isolate the spirit bond from the mind bond--because in all reality it was nearly impossible. The two were so intertwined that it was difficult to tell one from the other--and even Jedi with highly trained minds had difficulties projecting emotions without words or words without feeling.

Then again, no one Qui-Gon knew had ever had their brains completely cut off from the living Force either. With that limitation, it was possible he could use the soul bond to communicate.

At first it was like trying to complete sensitive maneuvers by looking into a mirror. Every time Qui-Gon tried to move in the direction he thought the spirit bond should be, his mind snapped towards the mental connection and crashed into the shields. Conscious thought brought him inevitably into the mind bond, and earned him shocks to his nervous system from the restraining collar.

Wincing after a particuarly nasty shock, Qui-Gon whispered one of the short mantras that helped to disperse pain, casting about in his mind for something--anything, that would show him what he needed to do.

And then he realized what he was doing wrong. He couldn't reach the spirit with the mind . . .

He had to reach out with his own spirit.

Sinking into the deepest meditation he could manage, Qui-Gon opened his inner eyes and gazed upon his own soul and the lines of connection that spun out to other people. There were several close to the surface--a thick, bright, pulsing rope of emotions that was his Obi-Wan and several thinner ones representing friends both new and old . . .

. . . and beneath them all, the first bond he had ever formed with another, the strong link of care and devotion he had with his Master. It was the one rooted deepest in his soul, the one he had the best chance of reaching out across.

Sinking even deeper into himself, Qui-Gon let his spirit fly.

~*~

It was strange, feeling someone as powerful as Yoda carding through his mind. The ancient Master was careful to avoid brushing anything that was not necessary, but despite that, Obi-Wan felt as if he was laid bare. He could feel as Yoda tested the many bonds spiraling out from him, the ones he had formed with Bant and Rees so many years ago, the newer ones--friends he had met during his Padawan training.

Shining like a fragile candle in the wind was his bond with Anakin, so terribly thin that for a moment Obi-Wan felt horror. He had neglected the boy a great deal if their bond was so delicate. It was something he would have to try to change.

Thoughts of Anakin were interrupted as Yoda dove deeper, somehow, reaching past Obi-Wan's mind into his very spirit.

Transfixed, Obi-Wan watched with his inner eyes. He knew, of course, about spirit bonds . . . but it took a great deal more power and control than any Padawan possessed to touch them. Yoda dove through the twisted cords deftly, fewer and thinner than the bonds of Obi-Wan's mind.

Buried deep inside, at the bottom of the place that /was/ Obi-Wan, Yoda found what he was looking for.

Some kind of power brushed the invisible bond, stroking it to life--and the world exploded around Obi-Wan in a flash of light.

~*~

Qui-Gon was sleeping when it happened.

He was having the same nightmare he'd been having for weeks--the one where he was the one who misused Obi-Wan instead of the clone, where he hurt him and enjoyed it. Sleep was so precious to him now--but he always struggled to pull himself out of this nightmare.

Out of nowhere, a rush of emotion came. Qui-Gon felt an odd tug as if someone was pulling on him, plucking his soul.

And then Obi-Wan stood before him, his Obi-Wan. Not the cowering creature he had broken over and over in his nightmares, but the Obi-Wan he loved and remembered.

The braid was gone, the hair a little bit longer. Green eyes stared at him in shock which turned to disbelief--and the apparition took a slow step forwards, lips moving silently.

"Obi-Wan," he said softly, pausing as the man before him gave him a startled look. The lips moved again, and it became clear that Obi-Wan was trying to speak to him.

::Spirits, not minds,:: Qui-Gon reminded himself, shaking his head sadly and taking a step towards Obi-Wan. He lifted a hand gently, placing one finger on Obi-Wan's lips to still them.

Comprehension lit Obi-Wan's eyes. He nodded, his own hand coming up to touch Qui-Gon's. Fingers tangled around his, and Qui-Gon felt a warm kiss pressed to his palm.

Obi-Wan lowered Qui-Gon's hand carefully, his eyes transfixed to Qui-Gon's. One slow step, and then another . . .

And the world dropped out from under Qui-Gon's feet as long fingers tangled in his hair, drawing his face down to the upturned lips of his beloved.

It was fire. Obi-Wan's lips danced over Qui-Gon's, pulling and tugging insistently. Qui-Gon could feel the low groan he couldn't hear, and his arms went around the supple body, crushing the younger man to him. A tongue swept out and teased at his lips, driving them apart as Qui-Gon released a low moan into Obi-Wan's mouth. More fire, the feel of that incredible tongue exploring and tasting, running teasingly along his own.

He groaned again, fingers tightening into the robe his Obi-Wan wore. He could feel the world spinning out of control, every sense focused on the slippery heat of Obi-Wan's mouth, his tongue, his lips . . .

A sharp pain across his jaw startled Qui-Gon, causing him to jerk back. He could see the love in Obi-Wan's eyes as he started to fade, one hand extended in a gesture of longing.

And then he was fully awake, pain exploding across his face as the fiercest of his captors, an man who identified himself only as Jae, delivered another swift boot to the face.

"If you value your continued survival, Jedi, I suggest you don't attempt anymore unauthorized field trips." Jae's voice was quiet and deadly, his eyes alight with vicious fire. Qui-Gon knew cruelty, and Jae was brimming with it.

"I was sleeping," Qui-Gon said softly, keeping his eyes focused on the floor. He had learned not to provoke Jae--it gained him nothing but pain, and right now he needed to stay whole in order to fight his way free.

"You were hardly breathing and had the pulse of a dead man." Jae's boot caught under Qui-Gon's chin, lifting his face. "You were meditating, Qui-Gon. What you may have accomplished by it, I do not know."

Qui-Gon stared into Jae's eyes, face impassive.

"You know what I think? I think all this hair makes it far too easy for you to hide your face from me. What would you say if I shaved it all off?" Jae smiled at Qui-Gon's barely controlled flinch. "Ahhh . . . you wouldn't much care for that, would you?"

And without another word to Qui-Gon, Jae called for the scissors.

~*~

"Interesting reaction that was."

Obi-Wan blinked, remembering Yoda's presence for the first time since he'd been pulled back from the dream vision. His heart pounded in his ears still, whether from the knowledge that Qui-Gon lived, or from the feeling of his beloved's mouth under his, he was not entirely sure.

A dull flush came to his cheeks as Obi-Wan looked up, realizing for the first time that Yoda had seen everything that had transpired in the vision--had watched Obi-Wan take Qui-Gon's face in his hand and kiss him senseless . . .

"I--I had to know, Master Yoda." And he did know now--know somehow that whoever it had been who had taken him on the ship from Tatooine to Coruscant, it had not been the man he loved. "I had to know that it wasn't . . ." Obi-Wan trailed off, at a loss to explain the need he had felt.

"What have you not said, Obi-Wan?" Yoda's voice was quiet--almost gentle--and for a moment, Obi-Wan simply stared. How could he explain to Yoda what sounded so absurd to him now? 'My Master raped me, and I believed it possible of him . . .' Obi-Wan was almost sick with himself.

The memory was still there, still humming between them. With a soft push of his mind, Obi-Wan offered it to Yoda, gave him permission to see what he was to embarrassed to speak out loud.

"A fool you are not, Obi-Wan," Yoda said softly a few moments later. "Faith in your Master you had. Never any reason to doubt were you given." Shaking his head softly, Yoda gestured for Obi-Wan to stand. "Go, Obi-Wan. Gather your thoughts, you should. I will call the Council to order. Qui-Gon will be found."

~*~

In the end, Jae decided that subtle irony would be much more damaging to Qui-Gon's spirit. A long braid was woven over his right shoulder, the rest of his hair cut close to his scalp in the traditional Padawan style.

Qui-Gon endured with a clenched jaw, repeating to himself over and over that a Jedi scorned the material, that a Jedi cared nothing for physical appearance.

It helped little. There was something debasing and terribly personal about it, and Qui-Gon couldn't help but feel violated.

"I see why you Jedi like these," Jae said, turning the braid over between his fingers. "Makes a perfect little leash. Did you like to pull on it when you took your apprentice?" Jae laughed as Qui-Gon's jaw tightened and he said nothing. "Oh, how foolish of me. You weren't the one who got to do the taking. You just got to watch."

Qui-Gon surged to his feet in one burst of anger, knocking Jae under the jaw with his head before he reached the end of the chains and was hauled forcibly back.

"Foolish," Jae hissed, his eyes gone suddenly cold. "Did you truly think that Obi-Wan was out of our reach now? He will suffer for that, Padawan." Stalking to the door, Jae turned suddenly. "And your little game with the doctors is over. I'm putting you back up to double your normal dosage for all the drugs. They fool easily, Qui-Gon Jinn. I do not."

Cursing his lack of restraint, Qui-Gon settled back down on his heels. He could feel the strange weight of the braid slapping against his right shoulder, something he hadn't felt in so many years it had faded from memory.

Closing his eyes, Qui-Gon smiled grimly. When he was away from this place and with Obi-Wan again, he would have his love cut the braid off. Until then, Qui-Gon Jinn would be a Padawan again.

Escape. That would be his trial in this second bid for Knighthood.

~*~

TBC