A/N: Ok, I'll be the first to admit that I got some ideas from elsewhere. But I didn't plot-steal from anybody, as far as I know :p OH! And if you don't like Qui-Gon/Obi-Wan, JUST DON'T READ IT! Flames will be used to toast Anakin's head on a stick.
I will never know when or why our relationship shifted from the friendship of master and apprentice to a deeper, physical love. I will never know who really took the first step and brought on that first night, and a fire I will never forget. I will never know how he could bring such feelings to my body when I'd been with so many others before. And I will never know why, in the end, he did not say he loved me. Why, in the end, his words spoke not to me, but of his own devastating ambitions.
That one act cut more than any wound I ever received and, in part, was the reason I kept training Anakin long after I saw the futility of it all.
~-~-~-
Deep evening merely shaded the sky above the Jedi Temple to a darker grey, its brilliant stars dimmed by the eternal flash of neon from the planet-wide city below, and the running lights on the traffic lanes that flowed as impenetrably as a river through the miles-high buildings. On occasion, in timed circuits, trash canisters would shoot like confused comets out into the cluttered rings of refuse that circled Coruscant. Like a copper behemoth rising from its slumber, the Temple reared above it all and managed to reflect the weak starlight. Some residents of the city-planet attributed this to its inhabitants, the Force-wielding order of warrior priests known as Jedi. Many were afraid of the place.
Obi-Wan Kenobi had been afraid, once. As a very small boy he had wandered these halls like a little ghost, afraid of his shadow, and of the unknown, robed figures who towered over him and exuded the tantalizing tingle of an energy he had yet to understand. As he grew up he understood, and no longer was afraid. The Temple was his home as much as it was any master.
That straight-backed young man strode the evening-darkened halls now, padawan braid bouncing rhythmically against his shoulder with each step. He was eighteen, and already well grown into his body, as his opponents in mock dueling would attest. His face hadn't lost all of its adolescent softness, and looked as though it might never, though he could glare the snarl off of a Nexu if he wished. His eyes seemed to shift color in different lights or moods, from brilliant azure to stormy grey, from warm and inviting to cold and threatening. Level-headed, intelligent, inquisitive, and undeniably brave, he was a model apprentice, and many masters berated themselves daily for not seeing the potential and jumping on it.
And on the other side of the saber, there was Qui-Gon Jinn. He cut an impressive figure himself, standing a head taller than his full-grown apprentice; a leonine mane and hawk's beak nose gave him a noble visage and a frightening one if he wished. His eyes, a piercing blue, cut straight through the hearts of weaker souls, and none could match the look of inner pain that came to those orbs when he sorrowed. But as impressive as the man was, and as much grudging respect as he garnered from his peers, he was most certainly a rogue. His ideas very often came into conflict with the Temple's orders, and because of that, Qui-Gon had never earned a higher position in Jedi hierarchy than merely a master, a title that was conferred upon every knight who took on an apprentice.
Obi-Wan rarely paid any heed to his master's reputation, though. He would in the future, when the stain of Qui-Gon's final error would haunt him to the tomb, but at the moment the eighteen-year-old had nothing but the greatest admiration and respect for his mentor.
And then, perhaps there was more to it than that.
While the Temple and its reigning council liked to pretend that its inhabitants were completely celibate, the supposed law that all Jedi must refrain from sex was a myth. Young men would sit around in bars and banter the idea about, discussing proposed conquests of 'off-limits' Jedi women, when in reality those women took lovers from among their own kind gladly and frequently. Of course, the laws against blind attachment were strictly enforced and followed, and on occasion the Council would crack down and ban sex for a week or so, but generally nobody paid much mind. If a Council member spotted two young Jedi going at it outside of their private rooms they would be strongly reprimanded, of course. But Obi-Wan had never been caught, and his list of female paramours was almost too long to count. That was the way it was supposed to be anyway; with so many sexual partners, it would be difficult to get emotionally attached to just one.
And yet, there was one partner Obi-Wan had never sought after in his waking hours. To do so would be dangerous to both soul and future, because the one person he wanted for more than simple pleasure was his mentor.
It was an inevitable thing in most cases where the apprentice was capable of falling in love with the master. Obi-Wan's feelings on the matter were so confused and twisted – was he gay? Why did he lust after a man? And how could he want his teacher in that way? – that he often lost sleep over it. And then there were the dreams. Dreams that taunted him with fragments of situations he didn't even understand, that would wake him sweating and aroused to the point of pain, though he could barely recall what had wrought the sensations. His master had walked in on a few occasions, and passed it off with an easy, understanding smile as hormonal dreams of adolescent boys, never once suspecting the object of his student's ardor.
But none of that bothered Obi-Wan this evening, not when an afternoon of saber training had put a layer of sweat on him and a satisfied weariness in his muscles. What he really wanted was a long soak in a hot tub, and peaceful slumber until Qui-Gon awoke him at dawn the next day for another round of training. They were in between assignments, and as usual, his mentor took this as an opportunity for intense training. Not that Obi-Wan minded; there was a lot to learn, after all.
But when he stepped into the apartment he and his master shared, all thoughts of comfort and relaxation fled. Qui-Gon looked up from a recliner, curiosity and a teacher's desire to explain written in his eyes. Spread on his lap were a series of erotic photographs depicting male couples that Obi-Wan had gotten off the holo-net, in an attempt to understand his own wants better. Those sessions had always ended with a rather frustrated and still confused Kenobi.
To Obi-Wan's complete mortification, Qui-Gon was only too happy to offer his help. "Did you have a question about this, Obi-Wan?" he asked in a completely neutral tone that betrayed nothing but fatherly concern.
Obi-Wan stood in the doorway, blushing crimson to the tips of his toes, and looking rather panicked. "Er, no. That is, I… ah… no."
Qui-Gon chuckled and shook his head, then put the pictures down. "If you're confused about anything – not just the Force – you should come to me. The holo-net is no place for sex advice, you know."
"Yes. I… ah… well…" The young man wanted nothing more than to sink into the floor and vanish forever. "It's very complicated," he blurted finally.
"Liking men is nothing to be ashamed of," Qui-Gon went on cavalierly. "I experimented with similar things. I understand that the others talk badly about it, but-"
"No, it's fine, really," Obi-Wan stammered. "I think I understand it well enough." Despite his best efforts to keep any thoughts at all at bay, the idea of Qui-Gon sleeping with men sent a hot, guilty surge of desire through him. He was incredibly thankful for the length of his tunic.
"Well, if you have any other questions," Qui-Gon answered with a shrug, "I'm here. And don't be so embarrassed," he added with a comforting smile. "It's completely natural to feel these things."
Obi-Wan nodded hastily and scurried into his room, nearly tripping on the doorframe.
Once inside he locked the door and leaned against it, lust and mortification warring in him. Now he could clearly see those holo-net images in his mind's eye, but the figures were replaced with him and Qui-Gon…
He desperately ran into the refresher unit and turned on the shower, setting it to cold. If self-control couldn't keep his need at bay, maybe frigid water could.
~-~-~
After that, the dreams grew successively more vivid, until he could clearly recall them when he awoke. Nothing could stop them, not sex, not exhaustive training, not meditation, and now every time he saw his master, he had to exercise extreme effort not to visualize those still confusing images. His studies began to slip, and it didn't take long for Qui-Gon to catch on.
One night, he decided to finally get to the bottom of it. When he sensed Obi-Wan jolt into wakefulness, he threw on a robe quickly and walked the short hallway to his apprentice's room. "Obi-Wan?" he said, knocking politely. "I think we need to talk."
Silence greeted his words.
"Please, Obi-Wan. Something's worrying you, and I'd like to know what it is." He opened the door, tripping the lock with the force, and entered the room to find Obi-Wan flat on his back, a tormented expression on his face, and very obviously aroused by something.
"If you can't tell me about these little episodes," Qui-Gon remonstrated gently, "you're going to end up in trouble. Now, who is she?"
That assumption caused Obi-Wan to grit his teeth and squeeze his eyes shut, afraid to even look at his mentor. "It's not a she," he managed in a strangled voice.
"Who is he, then?" Qui-Gon walked over and sat on the edge of Obi-Wan's bed.
The temptation was too strong. The dream was fresh in his mind, and the man was right there, intensifying Obi-Wan's desire tenfold. Without thinking, without giving himself time to react, he sat up and pressed his lips to his master's in an awkward – but desperate – kiss.
Qui-Gon seemed surprised at first, and pulled back, though not with revulsion. He raised an eyebrow critically, and in a gentle tone said, "Obi-Wan… think about this."
"I have," the young man croaked. "I can't… I can't stop thinking about it." He licked his lips nervously. This was exactly what he'd been afraid of.
"We can't," Qui-Gon said. "It would interfere with your training."
Obi-Wan shook his head, now looking slightly heartbroken. In the strange ways of emotion, he felt Qui-Gon had rejected him. "I swear, I won't make anything more of this," he said pleadingly. "Please. I just want to know what it's like."
Qui-Gon sighed and looked Obi-Wan in the eye, assessing the truth of what he'd just been told. Obi-Wan was a level-headed young man, and smart when hormones weren't addling his brain. And after so many years of training, Qui-Gon trusted his apprentice's control over his emotions.
The lesson taught that night was one neither of them would forget.
~-~-~-
They both woke at a deliciously late hour the next morning, as tangled in bedsheets as any two lovers could be. Not that the bed had been the only place used, but that's where they had ended up eventually. Qui-Gon had been exceedingly gentle and instructive, in blunt terms that had made Obi-Wan blush, but he had gotten the point across anyway. Now those pictures he'd been trying to decipher didn't seem so confusing. And at some point during the night, they both realized that their relationship had achieved something far deeper than the bond of master and apprentice. Even Qui-Gon, who had been completely taken off-guard by his student's feelings, felt the effect of their actions far beyond a purely physical level.
And thereafter, in training, in duels, on missions, or in the bedroom, the two held a link like that of a pair of lovers, even after their physical relationship ended. It was a bond too strong to be broken, even when ambition and dreams clouded the once-sensible mind of Qui-Gon Jinn.