Xanatos/Padawan Obi-Wan (aka Obawan) has always been kind of a pet passion of mine, and, well, this will likely be the first of (I'm thinking) four separate-yet-cohesive stories featuring them. (Though to be fair, I will probably write/post some stuff in-between because, uh, my spirit kind of flags on longer narratives like this.) Also, fair warning, all of them will probably be named after the same terrible Evanescence song ("Bring Me to Life," natch), sry. :P (Also, the latter ones will have to be read via my LJ/AO3 since, uh, they will be decidedly more pornier, and FF-dot-net doesn't allow that kinda thing. Fair warning.)
Summary: Xanatos makes his re-apparance, post-Telos IV and his final episode within the pages of Jedi Apprentice, at least, by kidnapping Obi-Wan; Qui-Gon to the rescue! Warnings: Kidnapping; Obi-Wan is 16-ish or so here, and while nothing sexual actually happens, I'm gonna slap an "underage" tag on this puppy at AO3 anyways because there's a lot that gets implied, re: (Future?) Xanatos/Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon/Obi-Wan, and (decidedly past) Qui-Gon/Xanatos. Ergo, please pass this on by if such implications make you uncomfortable. Tangentially, I've been talking to fanofthefass (on Tumblr/AO3, among other places) a bit about, er, Xanatos (or someone else) threatening/making good on the threat to cut out Obi-Wan's tongue, and the implications of that for someone who essentially talks for a living. Fass maybe has her own story where this becomes a significant plot-point, and because it's come up in conversation between the two of us, I wanted to give credit where it is due. Also, this is dedicated to her, mostly because it is one of the few things that, rating-wise, she can actually read that I've written this summer. Aaand, that said, this is rated PG-13/T.
My Spirit Sleeping Somewhere Cold (Until you Find It There and Lead It Back Home)
The Padawan's arms dangle limply at the wrists from the chains which Xanatos has had installed strategically to hang down from the ceiling; Obi-Wan keeps his hands clenched into tight fists, and his feet spaced strategically apart so as to give off the illusion of steadfast control. It's adorable, Xanatos deCrion thinks, and he must be smirking, because the boy turns his pale, skewering gaze upon him, though his eyes seem to slide, as is often the case ever since he put it there, to the burn scar on Xanatos' left cheek. Emotion radiates from his thin form, fear and hope mingling with sweet chaos in the Force between them, and it only heightens Xanatos' bemusement.
"Silly Padawan," he murmurs, and even though his voice is silky, he can tell that Obi-Wan is keyed in to the undercurrent of danger beneath his words, because the boy remains ever-so-stiff. "All those years of careful tracking exercises and practice missions, and still, you walked right into my trap."
Obi-Wan's brow furrows slightly. "In my defense," he frowns, and if Xanatos didn't know better, he'd say the child was somewhat offended, "Both Master Qui-Gon and I believed you to be dead. Because, oh, I don't know, maybe we saw you die." He's a smart-mouthed little brat, to be sure, but his indignant bristling is yet amusing - if nothing else, because it means that the Order has yet to beat the boy's pride out of him completely at this point - and so Xanatos allows it, even needles him further to elicit more of it.
"You saw," he begins, gliding closer to where Obi-Wan is standing, delighting in how the boy shifts his weight a bit from one foot to the other, looking nervous as Xanatos closes the distance between them, "precisely what I wanted you to see, dear child." He pauses, and then a mean smirk plays up the corners of his mouth: "You and my OLD Master."
Obi-Wan just 'tsks.' "Is that the best you can do, crack wise about his age? Because it's not as though you were his first apprentice after all. You were just the first to turn to the Dark Side," he finishes smugly - too smugly, Xanatos thinks darkly, but once again, he lets it slide.
"Oh, yes." He steeples his fingers a little, and Obi-Wan looks nervous anew. "Feemor. The farmer's son. I'm not surprised the fool clung to the Jedi Order. What else was he to do, plant seeds for the rest of his life?"
"There's nothing wrong with being a farmer," Obi-Wan interjects, and it sounds like he's parroting someone. "All work that the Jedi or their constituents do is noble, and-"
"Shut up." Surprised, Obi-Wan obeys, mouth snapping closed immediately, eyes wide. Satisfied, and plenty okay with not bothering to explain himself - "your carefully memorized Jedi platitudes are giving me a headache," he might have said, however - Xanatos reaches out a hand, stroking the boy's long, bead-encrusted braid with his fingers. "No, I was Qui-Gon's second Padawan; and then I left, and he did not take another one for many, many years. I ruined him for any other apprentice ... until you." Fingers curl the braid a couple of times, and Obi-Wan, still silent, endures the small tugging at the side of his head. "What did he see in you, I wonder?" He winds the terse strand of hair lightly around his knuckles, and runs the pads of his fingertips down the sides of Obi-Wan's face. "What was it about you that made him trust again?"
Obi-Wan vacillates sharply through his nose, and jerks his head away, even though it comes to naught. Sure enough, Xanatos merely chuckles, and then grips his chin full on between two fingers and a thumb. Their eyes meet, light, skittish blue searing into Xanatos' formidable stare, and Obi-Wan's stomach roils. This isn't a conversation he expected to have here; it's been nearly two years since Melida/Daan, after all, but even so, he's never stopped feeling as though Qui-Gon will wake up one morning and decide, simply, that a mistake has been made, that in fact, he never meant to let Master Yoda badger him into taking Obi-Wan as his Padawan at all. He still has visions of himself as an Agricorps flunkee; he wonders, somehow, whether Xanatos knew that his heart wasn't into the justification of Feemor's family's livelihood as a noble career, though it's also just as possible that Xanatos was simply being Xanatos, ribbing until he found, as was apparently easy to do to a Padawan who still didn't entirely feel like he deserved to be a Padawan, a sore spot, and then hammering on that gradually until it exploded into a veritable gundark's nest of nerves.
In any case, though his own internal nest has certainly been inflamed, so to speak, to the older man before him, he simply offers a wry response, his voice tinged with an impressive amount of bravado: "It was the will of the Force for Qui-Gon to choose me," he intones, the smallest of smiles gracing his soft features. "And even after everything you did to him, and all that time spent mourning what could have been, the Light was still brighter than your betrayal, your treachery."
There's a moment when Xanatos considers murdering the insipid teenager before him outright and simply washing his hands of this whole plan. "How dare you?" he asks, the words leaving his mouth practically before he can think about uttering them to begin with; Obi-Wan still manages to look smug, and then the former Jedi's grip moves, without warning, from the boy's chin to his throat, squeezing with more than a little pressure, and Obi-Wan changes his tune a little. "S-stop ... c-can't ... can't b- ... can't b-"
"Are you pleading with me?" Xanatos asks, delighted once again. Still, he does not let up; "beg me outright," he orders, eyes narrowed into razor-thin slits. "Say 'please,' Obi-Wan."
"P-please!" Obi-Wan gargles, and just before the darkness claims him, Xanatos releases his neck. Sagging in his bonds, he coughs several times, and when he lifts his head anew, his eyes are watering. "Thank you," he says shortly, and Xanatos smiles magnanimously at him.
"My pleasure." He watches the Padawan heave for a few more seconds, and then waves his hand airily. "I'd gag you, but you'll only have yourself to talk to anyways, now." It's an indication that he's about to be left alone, chained and probably residing almost completely in darkness (the room is not well-lit, and he suspects that Xanatos won't want to waste even a dim amount of energy on him), and a sudden fear knifes through his heart. Somehow, even Xanatos' company during his captivity is better than the promised solitude, though he does his damnedest not to show the older man how he really feels.
In any case, it comes to naught, and Xanatos does leave, taking with him the last remnants of buoyancy within Obi-Wan; the Padawan lets out a soft, terrified wail after the door slams shut behind Qui-Gon's ex-Padawan, and his arms hurt; he shifts uncomfortably, one foot to the other, and wishes something ridiculous would happen, like his training bond with his Master suddenly being able to stretch from Coruscant to someplace probably several parsecs away, and then tries to meditate after a few minutes of waiting desperately for Qui-Gon or Xanatos or anybody coming through that wretched door anew, and failing miserably, and then trying again, anyways.
Qui-Gon does, of course, come for him, eventually, perhaps more in the manner of one of those armored knights atop magnificent maned beasts that Obi-Wan has read about in centuries-old stories than he should prefer, given that he himself plans to be a Jedi Knight in his own right someday; nonetheless, there is still something thrilling about watching Qui-Gon burst through that very same door, his own magnificent mane fanned in a wild spray around his head, eyes and lightsaber both blazing, his face set in furious determination, and knowing that, in fact, these emotions he feels coursing through the Force (and yes, now that Qui-Gon is right here, even through their training bond) are all on his behalf.
"Xanatos," Qui-Gon snarls; and then, seeming to ascertain that, in fact, no immediate harm has come to his apprentice, his expression softens somewhat. "Obi-Wan," he intones, more quietly now, and Obi-Wan instinctively tries to wiggle his sore wrists, itching to do whatever he can to help. Alas, he remains a helpless damsel, chained to the ceiling and even pale and rather doe-eyed, truth be told, and the reminder fills him with sudden anxiety.
It is, of course, the perfect opportunity for Xanatos to cut in. "Ah, Master, I see you've received my private correspondence. I'd hoped your commlink still ran on the same frequency as it did when we were on the same side, and predictably, I was right." He gestures to Obi-Wan then, and Qui-Gon's grip on his lightsaber tightens pre-emptively. "As you can see, not a single hair has been harmed on his pretty little head ... yet," he finishes, and Obi-Wan just blinks. "I cannot say I wasn't tempted, however," Xanatos muses, smiling.
Qui-Gon makes almost a growling sound in the back of his throat. "What do you want, Xanatos?" The eldest man in the room's tone is blunt, its owner not to be waylaid by the silky bemusement of Xanatos deCrion. And yet, Xanatos continues to push anyways.
"Perhaps all I wanted was to see you; to know that you're still thriving, in spite of my previous best efforts." He toys with Qui-Gon's Padawan's braid again, and the Jedi Master frowns severely. "And of course, if I could find a way to do it through Obi-Wan, of course, so much the better." He switches to petting Obi-Wan's cheek, and still, the boy remains stock-still. "He's grown into quite the young man, now, hasn't he?" Xanatos purrs, and now the petting becomes more lascivious: "And yet, I think he's probably old enough now to -"
"Stop." Qui-Gon's voice is whisper-soft, yet his tone holds the promise of complete annihilation. His grip on his lightsaber loosens and then tightens again, as if Qui-Gon is flexing his hand, readying it, reminding it that he may well need it to fight for him today. "Just stop it, Xanatos," he says again, but Xanatos' smile does not abate.
"I wasn't all that much older the first time I found my way into your bed, my old Master." His own face comes very, very close to Obi-Wan's now, and the boy watches him with wide eyes. In front of them, Qui-Gon takes a step forward. It is a warning. "Xanatos ..." he entices, but the darker-haired man just smirks.
"What don't you want him to know, Qui-Gon? That you had me? That we fucked?" Obi-Wan lets out a small whimper when his captor grips him by the chin. "Is keeping the truth from him your way of clinging to the notion that you can save this one, that you can keep him from going bad like me?" Xanatos' own voice takes on a rasping quality, now. "Or perhaps," he purrs a beat later, "You've already had him, too, and this entire exercise is pointl-"
"Shut up! He hasn't done anything to me! You're the only one who feels the need to pervert the Master-Padawan relationship in this way. Stop tormenting him!" The words fall out of Obi-Wan's mouth impulsively, before he can think to hold them back, before he can ascertain the potential consequences. However, they are, in fact, rather immediate: Again, nearly before he can blink, Xanatos has his jaw held in a vice-grip, and then, when Obi-Wan opens his mouth to tell him off anew, he startles to find Xanatos reach out and pluck at his tongue with two fingers. "Argh," he 'says,' and the older man smirks, holding fast, almost admiringly well, to the slimy, wiggling appendage.
"I've done nothing wrong here, my old Master." Xanatos' eyes are on Qui-Gon, though he keeps a steady hold on the boy. "But perhaps I can teach you both a lesson today by cutting out his insolent tongue." Once more, Obi-Wan goes deathly still; eventually, Xanatos releases his tongue, and he is embarrassed to find that he very nearly drools on himself before he can jam it back into his own mouth.
Qui-Gon's tone is even, steady, as though coaxing an injured, mewling shaak from its hiding place. "While it's true that the Council has looked into your affairs since the disaster on Telos IV and has found nothing illegitimate," he says calmly, and Obi-Wan is once again impressed by the depths of consideration that has gone into not only (presumably) Qui-Gon's rescue of him, but his Master's attempts to prepare himself as fully as possible for what he might find when he arrives, "the fact of the matter is that you have taken another sentient being - in this case, my Padawan - to a location against his will. That's kidnapping, of a Jedi, even, and the punishment will still hold up in a Republic Court trial." He shifts his stance somewhat, and Obi-Wan notes that Xanatos is, probably begrudgingly, nonetheless hanging onto Qui-Gon's every word. "In addition," the eldest continues, "I'm sure your former people would be interested to know that you're still alive and able to pay for your past crimes, Xanatos."
Xanatos hisses, teeth bared. "They'd have to catch me first - and so would you, my old teacher." Something comes out from between the folds of his cloak, then, and Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan both watch him hold it up to the light. "Do you see it, Qui-Gon? It's a device used by slavers to keep their property in check. Usually, it gets implanted somewhere, of course, but, well, it will still detonate well enough if it's merely in the vicinity of a slave, I suppose." There's a rustling in the Force, then, and Obi-Wan can feel his Master's legitimate anger at his peril, anger which crescendos when Xanatos attaches the device to the breast of his tunic; a small 'click' seems to snap it into place, and then there's a ticking sound. "Have fun," the ex-Jedi smirks, and sidesteps Qui-Gon's furious strides, ducking out of the room altogether, but not before glancing idly back at Qui-Gon, studying the enslavement device-cum-miniature-bomb gingerly, seeming to realize that, in fact, simply tugging it from Obi-Wan's tunic may result in its detonation. "Stay calm, my Padawan," Qui-Gon murmurs, and Obi-Wan, voice small, nonetheless squares his shoulders bravely - ever so brave, the consummate Jedi-in-training, Xanatos thinks snidely - and nods: "Yes, Master."
Xanatos leaves.
"Well, that was fun," Obi-Wan enthuses, his voice - less hesitant, now that there is no overarching threat of tongue-removal - tinged with sarcasm. In the passenger seat of Qui-Gon's ship, he fiddles with the seatbelt a little, suddenly insecure. "Master, I'm sorry that Xanatos said those awful things about us; and that I needed to be rescued in the first place. But all the same, thank you."
Qui-Gon glances over at him; when he speaks, it is in his usual pleasant baritone, his previous anger reigned in anew. "You should not apologize for needing help, Obi-Wan," he says first. "The nature of our calling occasionally places us in peril. As your Master, it is my job to keep you safe, just as you would - and have - done for me in the past." He pauses, and Obi-Wan thinks that this is it, but then: "Also, you must recognize that Xanatos is a different matter entirely from an enemy simply trying to gain a political foothold or some such element of power using a Jedi as ammunition. Xanatos' adult life seems to be devoted largely to seeing me brought low; and I continue allowing him to bait me by not stopping him during each successive encounter. As such, it is I who should be apologizing to you, Obi-Wan; that is to say, I'm sorry you have had to get entangled with such a dangerous and unstable person. Repeatedly, even."
Obi-Wan blinks, eyes wide, his expression soft. "If it helps, Master, I think these minor upsets with Xanatos are worth it to be your apprentice." Qui-Gon's face is unreadable, but he's about to lose his nerve anyways, so he merely adds, rather bashfully, "Perhaps one day, we can stop him together, once and for all."
Qui-Gon lets out a soft 'whoosh' of air. "Perhaps," he says at last, and then, "thank you, Padawan." The silence sits pleasantly between them for several moments, and Obi-Wan's mind flits to scant hours before, with Qui-Gon studying the device that was steadily clicking away his apprentice's (and his own, assuming he was in the vicinity when it finally went off) remaining seconds of life and, at one point, even swearing in a language Obi-Wan didn't know out of sheer frustration. "I think, if we just ... there's something I should be able to unscrew in order to trigger the device's shut-down sequence." At the time, it had sounded as though Qui-Gon was speaking out loud to convince himself more than to pep talk Obi-Wan. Still, he'd looked at the boy then, and Obi-Wan could see the stark desperation in his eyes, the fear, ... the love, perhaps, both the proper kind between a Master and a Padawan and, ... well, he was still very young, after all. "Do you trust me, Padawan?" he had asked, and Obi-Wan's breath had caught in his throat, but he had managed to nod. Naturally, Qui-Gon's guesswork had been successful in bringing them both back to hyperspace and beyond alive and as well as could be said, given the circumstances, and now, here they both are.
"I trust you, Master." He says it quietly, almost where he's fairly certain Qui-Gon has not heard him. Once they'd clambered aboard the ship, Qui-Gon making sure Obi-Wan had both feet inside before pulling up the rear and heaving the door closed with one massive movement, he recalls the care Qui-Gon had taken to check him over, cupping his jaw, smoothing softly-callused hands over the places Xanatos had touched him. "Did he do anything -?" his Master had asked, and Obi-Wan had shaken his head 'no.' "Good," Qui-Gon had responded softly, and Obi-Wan can't help but think it's good for everybody involved, including Xanatos, who would have to bear what seems to be a considerable wrath lurking beneath the surface of Qui-Gon's finely-honed calm exterior; it's a wrath that he now knows is reserved only for truly precious things, like the tenuous beginnings of a relationship with an apprentice who has nonetheless wormed his way into Qui-Gon's heart, an apprentice whom Qui-Gon would do a great many things to keep safe and sound. There will still be times when insecurities, imagined and otherwise, rear their head; when a well-placed comment by a man who has been there, done that, and lived to tell some version of the tale might rattle Obi-Wan's otherwise generally peaceable psyche. And yet, deep down, Obi-Wan knows, now, that he and Qui-Gon are in this for the long haul, together, and even if he isn't always able to fight with his Master side-by-side against a common enemy, when all is said and done, assuring Qui-Gon that he believes wholeheartedly that Qui-Gon will do everything within his powers to make things right again when they happen to go wrong is yet a formidable strength that he holds in his hands, at least as strong as any lightsaber.
"I trust you as well, Obi-Wan, unquestionably," Qui-Gon intones, and spirits them across the stars, taking them both back home, together, where they belong.