AN: Guys, THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU MAKE THE WRONG FRIENDS.
I am trash, and I am sorry.
This deals HEAVILY with rape. Like, so much. If this triggers you, really, back away. This is awful. I am awful. And Obi-Wan never, EVER deserved this.
For those of you responsible for this...you know who you are. And you should be ashamed.
Endure
He could still feel him in the Force. Not always, but sometimes, like a soft, gentle tug upon the tattered remains of a Force bond that he had tried desperately to forget was ever there, or like a soft, soothing voice upon his consciousness when everything around him was silent and still in the times he thought he was alone, gently urging him to step with him into the darkness, to truly feel the pain he worked so hard to keep well and truly hidden from all those that depended upon him. Which was literally everyone, a thing he didn't feel he deserved, a thing he tried to bravely bear regardless even though he was floundering under the weight of expectations.
Obi-Wan Kenobi had, in a single stroke, become a living legend, the first Jedi in a thousand years to slay a Sith Lord, to save his Master from certain death when all seemed lost, to return a triumphant hero from the Battle of Naboo to be knighted before the Council without having to undergo the Trials. With a heartfelt promise to the infirmed Qui-Gon to watch after young Anakin Skywalker while he was recovering, even though the stab of pain was nearly crippling, Obi-Wan put on a smile for his wounded Master and took Anakin under his wing, keeping his own feelings at bay by busying himself with teaching Skywalker the basics. And there was quite a bit for him to learn.
It...felt like betrayal. All of it, from the moment his Master had brought Anakin to the Jedi Temple and demanded the cautious, reluctant Council to train him. His Master had been willing to toss him away in an instant when he was denied, just so he could champion Anakin's cause. Him! His Padawan, who he had trained from childhood, had been like a father to Obi-Wan, tossed away without a second thought for a boy he had known for a few days. And for what? Because he was powerful enough to make Qui-Gon believe some antiquated garbage about a Chosen One. The idea that the balance of the Force was determined by a single being more important than the rest, that a thousand, thousand people all working together for the betterment of everyone was somehow lesser than this one supreme being went against everything Obi-Wan had ever been taught.
That he was somehow less important than this child, that Qui-Gon would simply...replace him...
In his anger, in his eagerness to be apart from the Master who would discard him, he had told the Council that Qui-Gon was right, he was ready to be on his own, ready to be a Jedi Knight, ready for his Trials, and he was swiftly dismissed. What did he know about being ready, they had asked. Who was he to decide such a thing? No, he was not ready, and so he would remain with Qui-Gon until he was, and they left the chamber that day as a shattered family, the bitter, abandoned son and the father with the son he was given, not the son he had wanted.
Obi-Wan quickly regretted his outburst that day, the uncharacteristic show of temper, and quickly bottled it up inside him in favor of keeping the peace, of remaining united against the challenges they were to face, but it was a sentiment Qui-Gon did not seem to share. When he should have waited, he ran. When he should have stood beside his Padawan against the Sith Lord they faced, Qui-Gon once again left him, and for it, he had nearly died. It was only by some miracle of the Force that Obi-Wan had managed to rush to Qui-Gon's side in time to keep the Sith from mortally wounding him and in his burning need to defend his Master, he pulled from deep within him the power to slay a Sith Lord.
And for it, not a single thanks. Not an apology, or recognition of what he had done. Only the promise to watch after Anakin while he recovered, to carefully tend to the boy that would replace him, a thing that even the Council had grown to support with Obi-Wan's Knighthood. A thing that never came to pass, because not a week later, Qui-Gon Jinn had left the Jedi Order with his Master, Dooku, leaving a lost, grief-stricken, overwhelmed Obi-Wan to care for a challenging Padawan that required the attention of a Master, wise and experienced, not a newly made Knight that was by no means ready for a Padawan of his own.
But Obi-Wan raised Anakin anyway. He never held anything against the boy. None of this was his doing, none of it his fault, and he was, in some ways, as lost and confused as Obi-Wan, taken from his home, his family and brought to a strange new place with the understanding that Master Jinn would train him. But Qui-Gon had gone, abandoned even the young boy that he worked so hard to champion, that he was willing to destroy his relationship with Obi-Wan for. Anakin was confused, as everyone was as to why Qui-Gon and Dooku would leave the Order so suddenly, and where they disappeared to after they had left, the two Jedi leaving no sign, no trace of their presence upon the galaxy.
But Obi-Wan knew.
He would never forget the feeling of the Dark Side, the cold, violent oppression that radiated from the Sith Lord he had fought and chilled him down to his very core. The feeling that no Jedi alive had felt or sensed for a thousand years. But Obi-Wan felt it. When he slept or meditated, it was there, when he was alone, he always sensed it through the creeping chill he felt in the broken Force bond within him that he desperately wished to forget. But even all of that could be endured. What he couldn't stand, what nearly broke him every time he heard it was the whispers, low and coaxing and seductive, calling for him in an all too familiar voice to join him in darkness.
What he could never forget was the image of the Master he once so deeply cared for standing before him in his visions and dreams, the sunken, blazing yellow eyes wrapping his every memory in darkness and rotting each dream into frantic nightmares.
He could feel him in the Force. Qui-Gon Jinn was Sith.
Obi-Wan shut his eyes tight in his meditations, his entire body tense as he struggled to push past the gentle, cold caress upon his mind, so rarely felt in the beginning, but now, a year since Qui-Gon had left, it was becoming more frequent, stronger, colder. Something in the Force was changing. The Sith were drawing closer, and only Obi-Wan seemed to know it, the other Jedi quickly dismissed it as the trauma of his ordeal, that he was jumping at shadows, that he was too attached and could not let go of the Master that he felt betrayed by. But that wasn't it. Obi-Wan had let go of Qui-Gon long ago, the wound he left now a scar on his heart, but one that no longer bled. No, it was Qui-Gon that couldn't let go, and no matter how hard Obi-Wan tried to break his grasp, the cold, dark fingers of shadow and ice refused to relent.
"Obi-Wan."
His eyes shot open, wide and fearful and on the brink of panic when he saw him, felt him. Qui-Gon, the Master draped in a black robe, his yellow eyes spiked with red the color of blood glowing beneath his cowl, and Obi-Wan could feel all his fears, all his anxiety, all his pain, his losses and insecurities pulled screaming and unwilling to the surface by the Sith Lord. He couldn't move, was absolutely frozen to the spot and forced to watch as Qui-Gon drew near, pulling back his hood and grinning with cruel amusement at the boy he has raised and so carelessly abandoned.
"My Obi-Wan..."
Long, cold fingers reached out to firmly grab his chin, the frightening mockery of his former Master looking down at him with a cruel, amused, possessive smirk on his lips, and Obi-Wan shut his eyes and couldn't stop shaking as he touched his cheek, his lips, his neck, threaded his fingers through his hair. It was cold despite the tenderness of the caress, a touch meant to be seductive and enticing that only filled him with revulsion. It was never a touch he wanted, not from him, never from him...
"Come with me..."
Cold, tender lips pressed against his, slowly at first before the Sith moaned and pressed hard against him, his grip hard and possessive, his tongue pressed against his own like he owned him. Qui-Gon's presence snaked within his mind like dark, venomous tendrils that preyed on his fears, bit into them and turned his regrets into promises, his desires into realities, his pain into pleasure that ached to be fulfilled. Obi-Wan wanted none of it, tried to push the Sith from his mind and body, but he couldn't move, couldn't resist, the chill in the Force unresponsive and unmoved by the gentle touch of the Jedi, unsympathetic to his distress.
"Think of all we could be together..."
The gentle fingers hooked under his chin and gently coaxed him forward, a loving caress on his suddenly bare back urging him downwards as his cold hands touched and petted, slow and seductive and soothing, and against every fiber in his being, his body relaxed as it submitted to the Sith's demands. Each touch was an apology, each kiss upon his neck a promise to never be abandoned again, an assertion that he was good and loved, that he was appreciated and adored, that he was powerful and beautiful. Lies, all of them. Obi-Wan knew better than to trust the words of a Sith. He knew that none of it was true. How could they be when he never believed them himself?
"You are mine..."
Obi-Wan tried, tried to struggle, tried to pull himself away when Qui-Gon slid inside and painfully filled him, the much larger man sinking hard and deep with no concern for the Jedi's pain, with no regard for how he rejected this. The Sith set a brutal pace, pinned Obi-Wan's arms above his head even though he could not struggle and bit on his neck hard to claim him with pain and blood. Despite Qui-Gon's gentle praises and promises seeping slow and sultry through his mind, this was not love, it was violation, obsession turned on the man who had long ago let go. He didn't want this. He didn't want this, and no matter how much his soul strained against it, no matter how loudly he silently screamed his objections, the Sith Lord would not relent until he had grasped Obi-Wan's tender throat in his grasp and moaned his climax deep within him, the cold, burning feel of it pulsing inside him and poisoning everything it touched.
"Obi-Wan..."
All he could do was shut his eyes tight and silently sob as he willed it to be over, wishing his Master had the mercy to let him go.
"Obi-Wan."
All he could do was what he always did. Accept the pain and endure.
"Obi-Wan!"
With a gasp, the Jedi Knight jolted awake, his eyes flying open and darting about in a panic as he tried to get his bearings, his breathing fast and ragged and his heart pounding so hard it could be seen beating against his chest. One sight of the wide, concerned blue eyes of his eleven year old Padawan immediately calmed him, and with a sigh of relief, Obi-Wan sunk back on his heels and wiped the cold sweat from his forehead.
"Are you alright?" Anakin asked gently, reaching out and laying a hand upon his Master's knee. "You were screaming again...did you have another nightmare?"
"N-no..." Obi-Wan gasped, swallowing hard when he heard how weak and feeble the lie sounded, even to his ears. "No," he said again, more confident this time, and he smiled reassuringly at his Padawan. "Go back to sleep, Anakin. I apologize for waking you. There's nothing to worry about. Everything is fine."
"A-are you sure?" Anakin asked, a concerned frown on his face. "I felt something in the Force, Master, a disturbance l-like-"
"It was nothing," Obi-Wan said quickly, the smile on his face faltering for only a moment, and he closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and when he looked at his Padawan again, the shattered, broken pieces of himself no longer showed clear in his expressive eyes. "Memories cannot hurt us, Anakin, they have already past. Please, go back to sleep."
"...a-alright," Anakin muttered, a sad, sympathetic look on his face as he looked at his Master, but he knew better than to disobey when Obi-Wan was hurting. "Goodnight, Master."
"Goodnight, Anakin," Obi-Wan said, that slight, relaxed smile on his face. "Sleep well." The Padawan nestled back into bed, smiling softly to himself, and Obi-Wan watched over him until his breath was slow and even with sleep, and the smile dropped from his face as he rubbed his neck, quickly gasping when he swore he felt the skin beneath his fingers tender and dented with bite marks. Swallowing hard, Obi-Wan placed his shaking hands on his knees and quietly whispered the Jedi Code in the hopes that it would drown out the soft, wanting call of his name that itched in the back of is mind and knowing that the moment he closed his eyes to sleep, Qui-Gon would be waiting for him once again.
All he could do was smile and endure. As always.