Gold beams of light streamed in through the slitted blinds in Obi-wan's window, falling onto his face gently bringing him to awareness. Although he longed to stay asleep even for a few more moments, his eyes pried themselves open instead. Just as always, the first thing he noticed was a general sense of unease that permeated his body. It was familiar to him, always feeling more pronounced right as he woke up. It was the dysphoric remembrance of his lot in life, the one that fell heavily over the shadow of his existence. The one that was impossible to escape. As the day wore on, the doleful restlessness quickly faded; muted by the monotony of it all. But for those first few moments, it was as tragic as it had ever been.

But this day was not the typical day. For all the things that remained the same, there was one thing that was different. Today, he was no longer just a padawan. Today, he was a Jedi knight. The thought of it both teased a sense of hope and pessimism that tangled together in a confusing knot that rested in the pit of his stomach uncomfortably as he weighed out his options.

He could fall into his usual routine, the one he had been rooted in for the better part of the last thirteen years. That would involve waiting around for Qui-gon to give him orders or assign him a task. The idea of it felt impossible to him now- he had had enough of that over the years to willingly and unnecessarily subjugate himself to it any longer.

After all, just because he was still owned by his master, did not mean he needed to act like a padawan, he reasoned. It could end up looking suspicious. He didn't imagine even Qui-gon disputing that fact. He was a knight now. Everyone knew it. It was time for him to start acting the part. With no specific plan in mind, he decided to go out and find something, anything other than waiting for Qui-gon to order him around.

Obi-wan began to stir under his covers, stretching and yawning lazily as roused himself from bed. As he shifted, he noticed the weight of a small body under his covers, causing him to immediately remember the events of the night before. He had nearly completely forgotten Anakin had climbed into bed with him.

His heart fell and stomach lurched as he realized he might have just gotten Anakin in terrible trouble. He cursed himself under his breath, how could he have been so stupid? In the midst of the boy saving him from his own self destructive desires, he hadn't stopped to think about the consequences. How selfish, he thought.

He didn't have to ask to know that Qui-gon would not approve of letting Anakin sleep next to him. He didn't like the idea of what his master would do if he found the boy sleeping here, especially if he wasn't here to protect him.

In an instant, a flare of bright anger burned through him. Anakin had just been ripped away from everything he had ever known, had even left his mother behind. He should have been granted a bit of time to adjust, but Obi-wan knew better than to rely of his masters sense of mercy. He wasn't sure if Qui-gon had a single drop of kindness in him at all. He seemed to always be looking for something wrong, waiting with some harsh and barbaric punishment to dole out for even minor offenses. The anger quickly burned out of him, changing to fear as his mind remembered too vividly all the ways Qui-gon could be so cruel.

He turned towards the sleeper and gathered Anakin in his arms as quickly as he could while still being gentle enough not to wake him. Obi-wan walked towards Anakin's room, careful to keep his stride even as he carried the sleeping child while keeping a brisk pace. Obi-wan carefully laid Anakin on his own bed, delicately pulling the covers over him. He turned to leave but lingered for a moment. His heart felt like it was being torn in half.

The boy was so small, so innocent. Even if Qui-gon never laid a hand on him, the thought of Anakin being trained by such a heartless master made Obi-wan sick. Anakin did have boundless potential. It was not as if Obi-wan could train him, he knew he would never be able to give Anakin what he needed to become the best that he could be. But for all of his power and knowledge, Qui-gon was cold. Anakin was already beginning to understand the heartless demeanor his master possessed. Obi-wan was unsure of how much Qui-gon would be able to get through to him. What scared him even more was the thought of Qui-gon ruining Anakin's kind and gentle spirit.

As he lingered, watching over Anakin as he slept, a sense of foreboding settled into Obi-wan's body. He could feel it, a heavy sense of dread that spread through his chest and stomach, knotting his abdomen, making it harder to breathe. He couldn't place a reason as to why it had come on so suddenly, but it seemed impossible to shake- fusing with his bones in an ice cold chill that had him trembling in his core. All he could do is observe it and wonder what terrible wretched thing his body was warning him of, and hope the feeling was wrong.

He turned his back and shut the door to Anakin's room, heart heavy with sadness. He wasn't sure if it arose out of pity for himself, or the boy, or both. It melded with the icy chill that had taken him over, creating a sense of despair that congealed his heart causing a numbness that was both as empty as it was desistating.

It felt like hell. He wanted to curl up into a ball and stop time to live out the rest of his days in the quiet serenity of solitary silence, where nothing could make him feel like this ever again. Where no one could hurt him, use him, or need him ever again.

Although he scarcely held the will to even move, he continued back to his quarters to dress himself and then headed off to wander through the temple- running from his own uncomfortable feelings as much as from Qui-gon.

One foot in front of the other. One second after the next. When his emotions began to settle, he began to feel uneasy in a new way entirely. For a moment he couldn't even place a finger on what it was that was bothering him, but then as the fog of his mind cleared- it dawned on him. He wasn't used to being able to go about freely of his own volition. Walking around by himself felt, wrong.

Perhaps it was his overwhelming dependance on his master over the years. Maybe it was the fact that he wasn't really liberated- not with the bind on his ankle. As he remembered the loathsome circlet Qui-gon had so posessively endowed on him, it began to feel too heavy. The perpetual reminder that he would never truly be free. Just the thought of it made him feel like sawing off his own foot just to rid himself of the wretched memento of his bondage.

But still, even that wouldn't change a thing.

The truth of it hung in his mind, hollowing out everything else, becoming the only thing he could see- the only thing he could think about. He was so enveloped by it, he failed to notice the eyes that followed him as he brushed past people throughout the halls. His mind was completely transfixed on his wasted existence, and eventually even that fell out of him leaving him alone with only his sense of futility and terminal triviality. No words, no thoughts, only emptiness. His life was nothing. It was both the beginning and the end for him, all at the same time. It was the writ of him, inscribed on the fabric of the universe. He was born to be what he was. And he was nobody.

By the time he found himself able to recognise his surroundings again, Obi-wan found himself standing before two giant ornately carved arching wooden doors. He hadn't set out to end up anywhere. The fact that he stood in this place- one he hadn't thought for many years- piqued his curiosity. He had to admit, it felt as if he had been pulled here by the force itself, as if it heard his tortured thoughts and responded. Several years had passed since he had been allowed to enter this room, although as a child it had always been his favorite place to be. He figured his love for this place had been the reason Qui-gon forbid him to go most of the time.

Obi-wan's heart began to race as if he were about to do something forbidden, something terrible. If Qui-gon knew, he would have disapproved. It took him a moment to remember- his master wasn't here. His master was no longer charged to monitor his every move. It was a strange feeling. He wondered if he would ever get used to it. He was nearly afraid to.

In spite of all his internal alarms telling him to turn back, he placed a sweaty hand on the magnificent brass handle and pushed forwards. As the door gave way and he stepped inside, the sweet smell of foliage filled his nostrils. He stood there for a moment, in awe. In a happy sadness.

Suddenly all of the years Qui-gon had stolen from him became more real. All of the experiences that he might have had, all of the things he might have been spared. Even simple things like this, things that he might have done. All of the potential of his young years were gone.

But here he stood.

There were bitter tears that he held back, a tightness in his throat that he fought against. It was a strange sensation, a euphoric melancholy. He remembered the first time he had seen it- the room of a thousand fountains. It was before he had been taken as a padawan, back when he was a youngling around seven years old. Master Yoda had brought his whole class in to run through meditation exercises. That was so long ago. So much had changed for him, but this place remained majestic as it ever had been.

Obi-wan walked through the room, searching out his favorite spot. He couldn't quite remember where it was, but before he could think too much about it, he found himself in the exact place he had been thinking of. It was as if the things that fell from his mind, his body remembered.

And there it was, right before his eyes, exactly as he remembered. It was a tall waterfall that cascaded into a pool made of rockbed, surrounded by a generous variety of trees and bushes. There were sweet smelling orange colored flowers that blossomed near the base of the falls, smelling faintly of honey and roses. Obi-wan settled into a spot just at the bottom. The familiarity was both strange comforting. It felt like his memories of this place were someone else's, or from a different life. They felt too wonderful to be his own.

He closed his eyes and fell into meditation, savoring everything with a sense of wonder, feeling as if he might not ever get the chance to experience these things ever again. As he went deeper, there was a sensation that he had long since forgotten. It was the air coming alive around him, humming with a warm vibrance that tickled his skin. It made his heart feel lighter, less burdened with all of the things that had been visited on his flesh. It was the feeling of raw concentrated light force energy that saturated the room.

Obi-wan did try to meditate on a fairly regular basis, but practicing in this place was unlike a typical meditative experience. Here, everything not completely of the light was canceled out in its intensity. It was the feeling of the universe personified, existing in it's nurturing presence, being enveloped in serenity. Nothing could hurt or wound here. For Obi-wan, it was an overwhelming sensation.

He sank into trance readily and willingly, drinking it all in as if he could save some of it within himself for later- for when he would need it the most. As he beamed the light through his core he found whispers trailing through him with it. Voices that were strange, foreign and somehow familiar. He almost felt as if he had heard them in a dream. They were quiet, unintelligible at first- a cacophony of hushed mumbling. He felt pulled to it, drawn in by it, as if it was telling him to follow. He couldn't help but oblige.

Obi-wan chased it, following it until he was so deeply entrenched in meditation that he could no longer feel his body. He existed only as his essence. It was rare that he ever achieved this level of meditation, as it usually took quite a bit of exertion and concentration. Now it felt effortless as he trailed after the mysterious voice that continued to take him further and further from himself.

Finally as he came close enough, he found there was one string repeating, becoming more audible until the dissonance of voices synchronised into one united chorus.

You are not a slave

As the words entered him, they crushed him and held him together all at the same time. He felt his heart breaking a thousand times, the weight of all of the pain and suffering he had been put through aching in his chest and being pulled out of him as fast as it had manifested in the first place. It felt like the pain and suffering of too many life times rushing out of him quicker than he could comprehend what he was feeling or what was happening to begin with. Grief like a torrential river ripping out of him, the unburdening of so much darkness.

Once it had all drained from him, he felt as if he were just an empty husk, a shell. Not so heavy, but not so much of anything at all.

The chosen one, you must train him

The new words filled a gaping void, where he once held so much pain and agony. Caring for Anakin had been his purpose before, but the idea of training him had been comical at best. He found parts of him resisting it; suspending belief. Something else deep inside of him latched onto it as truth. But now without his mountains of sorrows to weigh him down, it felt like more. It felt like everything. It was a breath of life to his shattered vacant soul.

Obi-wan found he couldn't manifest any of the questions that threatened to break his meditation, but they bounced around in his mind as he tried hard not to resist the light as it worked on him. He could feel it moving around in his spirit, reaching places he had long forgotten, putting pieces of himself back together again. It was awe inspiring.

It was terrifying.

Deep within meditation, he searched and looked trying to find someone, anyone- trying to understand what was happening to him. All he could see was the gentle jade green orbs surrounded by a blanket of pure white. There was a faint scent, like cherries and sweet summer grass. Then there was that same gentle voice that hummed like a lullaby through him, moving him.

Within it all, there was a feeling of empathy. Whatever- whoever it was, they could see and feel every second of every torture in his life. Every tear, every drop of blood, every broken bone. All of the lies that had been carefully crafted to keep him in the prison of fear that had been built for him his entire young life. It all had him feeling extremely vulnerable, but the universe still held him in it's gentleness, telling him it was all going to be alright.

Just as he felt the remnants of anguish might have left him completely, the lights died, gentle hues bleeding out to darkness all around him. Suddenly he found himself alone. The gentle voice that had been soothing him, the light that had been renewing him, was nowhere to be found. The warmth quickly drained out of him, leaving a familiar bone chill that felt like a sting at the heart of his soul.

Then he could see flashes. Horrible flashes, glimpses of things he didn't quite understand. People, places, a pervasive feeling of darkness throughout it all. None of it made sense. But there was one thing that was too familiar, one thing that he would never forget no matter how much he wished he could. That evil pair of eyes, the ones that haunted him always- touched with a new shade of molten gold. A chord of lightning bolted through him, pulling him back into his body, chest heaving for air. His stomach felt nauseous as he collapsed on the ground below him, curling up into a ball.

He desperately tried to pull the light back into his body, tried to warm himself in it's glow, but nothing seemed to work as well as he had hoped. Looking around to the falls behind him he tried to find solace in the beauty of his surroundings. Still, it felt like the light of this place touched everything but his aching soul. He felt as if he were cursed.

The reassembled parts of himself, the pieces that had been missing for so long, told him things he didn't want to hear. Things that he didn't dare even think. Things better left without words to voice them. He wanted to ignore it all, like if he could forget everything he had just seen, it wouldn't be. If only that had been the way things had ever worked. The ice in his bones told him otherwise. It told him he couldn't escape his fate even if he tried. And he would try.

I should never have come here.

Still the bolder half of himself warred with him, while he desperately tried to lock that part of himself away. He had survived just fine this long without it, he figured. What good had courageous gallantry ever done him? None- quite the opposite in actuality. But still, it wouldn't be bargained with.

Shakily, he pulled himself up off of the ground and brushed off his tunic. Usually his trembling would have been from fear, maybe even anger. Now, he felt as if he were going to explode. As if his world was imploding on him as the moments drug on. The serenity of the room he stood in itched like poison on his skin. He needed to move, to run. To do anything but sit and act as if nothing had just happened. It was a vigor coursing through his veins that he didn't know what to do with, surging adrenaline that spoke to the animal part of his mind and provoked him to act.

He wanted to run to Qui-gon and make him beg and plead for mercy from the receiving end of his saber right before he tore him into chunks of charred flesh. He could see the scene playing out in his mind vividly. He felt a sickening gratification from the thought. The strength of it surprised him, the violent urge was stronger than any that he had experienced in his life. It was not usual for him to be given to such inclinations.

Of course, that was not a viable option. He decided the best thing to do was start walking. Perhaps his feet would take him to someplace useful, any place but here, definitely not to his master. He walked briskly while attempting to keep his pace slow enough to not draw attention to himself, trying all the while to mask his emotions as best he could.

It didn't take long for him to find the practice halls. He sighed with relief when he found one of the dojo floors empty. Four walls with not a single being besides himself. It was exactly what he needed.

He began by running through each saber form in its entirety, not moving on from a form until he was content each move had been executed perfectly. It had been a while since Qui-gon had demanded he practice, since training him in forms of combat had never been his primary concern. Obi-wan found himself frustratingly unpracticed.

It took him over an hour to perfect form one to his liking before he moved on to the next. It was a practice of obsessive perfection and scrutiny that kept him fully involved for the majority of the day. By the time he had finished running through the seventh form his limbs were trembling from overexertion and each layer of his clothes had become saturated with his sweat. As he finished his last move, after a pause to pridefully recognise himself for what he had just accomplished, he collapsed to his knees in a tired soaking heap. His saber went clattering to the floor, rolling out of his grasp as his whole body ached and complained, his mind resting peacefully in the moment.

Eventually as he cooled down, his sopping wet clothes began to feel uncomfortably cold against his skin. It was nearing evening anyways, so he ventured back to the apartment. As soon as he walked through the door, Anakin was rushing to greet him.

"Obi-wan! Master Qui-gon says I'm going to get to pick out my very own kyber crystal soon! Then, I get to make my own lightsaber!"

"That's wonderful, Anakin." Obi-wan tried to restrain himself from laughing at the boys childish wonder and excitement. In that regard his exhaustion played in his favor.

"What color do you think my lightsaber will be?" Anakin asked, not even trying to contain himself, jumping on his toes with a sparkle of delight in his bright blue eyes.

"I'm not sure. I suppose you will have to wait and see."

"I hope it's blue, like yours!"

Obi-wan's heart smiled. "Maybe it will be."

Qui-gon skulked in from the back corner of the apartment, interjecting, voice calm and still and cutting all at the same time. "Blue is the most common. To wish for a blue saber is to wish for mediocrity. Green is the sign of a great force wielder. Although I suppose in the end the color doesn't matter, so much as the skill of the one who wields it."

Obi-wan didn't need to look at his master to feel his piercing stare. Obi-wan's muscles instinctively coiled, ready to lash out at Qui-gon. Half of him wanting to tear right through the man where he stood, half of him terrified to look him in his eyes. Instead, he stood there perfectly still, eyes still glued to the floor below him, anxiously waiting for the moment to be over.

He couldn't help but revisit the fantasy that teased him before, where his master would beg and plead for his life right before meeting his end. If only it were possible, he thought, knowing it never would be.

"I don't care. I still want mine to be blue." Anakin spoke willfully, completely ignorant of the beast that he stood mere inches away from. He might as well have been standing right next to a starving rancor. Obi-wan wanted to tell Anakin to be more mindful of how he addressed his master, but couldn't bring himself say a thing. He could feel Qui-gon's stare intensify as Anakin doubled down on his statement.

Obi-wan stood there waiting for something terrible to happen as the moments drug on, however after finding themselves at a verbal draw, both Anakin and Qui-gon wandered away from the living room. Obi-wan took the opportunity to go to his room and peel off his damp clothes and hop into the shower before anyone tried to talk to him again.

After washing up, Obi-wan continued to let the steaming hot water pour over his back until his fingers and toes were wrinkly. Moving to step out of the shower, he jumped back in surprise, quickly and instinctively hiding himself behind the curtain.

"Are you trying to scare me to death?" Obi-wan spat angrily as he took a deep breath, timidly eyeing his master up and down, afraid to look him too long in the eyes. Afraid of the boiling hatred that stirred for his master just beneath his composure, dangerously close to surfacing. Qui-gon offered him no verbal response to his query, only his usual icy stare above his empty smile.

It was still too early for his master to be coming to him for pleasure- his stomach lurched at the thought. Obi-wan suspected there was something different, something specific that must have brought him here at a time like this.

Obi-wan reached out and floated a bath towel over to himself to dry off. All the meanwhile he studied the man in front of him, unsure of what the next move would be, knowing that it was bound to be nothing good. With Qui-gon it never was. Interestingly enough, he found himself more curious than fearful, although admittedly he was a mixture of both.

But as they stood in the stale silence, something inside of him broke. Or perhaps something rose up that had been long gone. Something given back to him. His stomach churned as his heart ached, knowing the black soul of the man who loomed before him. Knowing that person owned him made him sick with dread. But in that sense of apprehension, there was a resolve that he felt taking hold of him. It was almost more terrifying than the evil that stood before him.

It called him to action, where he had once been conditioned into passivity and submission. From the center of his being he felt a sense of power spread throughout his body, every cell of him on fire with a new yet familiar notion. He had felt it before, but now with his master standing right there, it was real. The truth came alive in him like never before.

I am not a slave

As if Qui-gon heard the words that sounded inside of his mind he took one menacing step forward, then one after another, cornering him in the shower.

"Get away from me." Obi-wan commanded, shocked by the sturdy tone in his voice, even more so by the realization that he was never going to let his master lay a hand on him willingly ever again. He didn't have it in him to allow himself to be used anymore.

Usually he would have been trembling to the core. Indeed he was shaking, but mostly out of rage. It was as if he could finally see the man before him for what he was, for what he had always been. Somehow, someway, he felt the realization within itself should have made a difference.

Still, Qui-gon did not change his course. He was close now- too close. Reactively, Obi-wan used the force that pooled around him and unleashed it at his master, pushing him violently.

What happened next, happened very quickly.

A gripping pain seared brightly around his ankle followed by a crushing blow to the back of his ribs, knocking the wind out of him. He fell limply into the tub, fragments of crushed and shattered tile falling onto his naked body, the dust of it burning his eyes. A warm trickle of blood ran languidly down the back of his skull, matting his hair, trailing over his shoulder and mixing with the pieces of broken tile that scattered over his chest.

Air rushed back into his lungs sending Obi-wan into an uncontrollable coughing fit as his body tried to remember how to breathe again. His mind was foggy, working hard to remember everything, attempting to piece things together in a way that made sense. But nothing made any sense.

Qui-gon towered over Obi-wan, sneering down at him while pulling up his tunic sleeve, revealing a matching golden circlet to the one that was locked on his ankle. Obi-wan's stomach tied in knots as the reality of his situation began to settle in. Half of himself was embarrassed he hadn't seen things for what they were earlier. He had been blinded by his newfound bravado, for all the good it did him. The other half of him was screaming in full panic, realizing with incapacitating fear what he had just brought on himself.

"Oh Obi-wan... You didn't think I would let you out with any... insurance, did you?" Obi-wan had nothing to say. Again, there was the underlying feeling of betrayal that he could only laugh at internally. Was it betrayal when he had done nothing but manipulate, use and deceive him since they had met? Still, it stung all the same. A look of bitter resentment fell over his face that he used to mask the terror that gripped his heart.

Still unpleased by the lack of response, he continued, this time more gruffness in his voice as he came even closer. "And look at you," Qui-gon mused, black eyes roving over Obi-wan's naked body. "I sensed it when you came back from practice, such confidence for such a coward. Such foolishness. Pretending to be a Jedi knight. It's only been one day and already you're letting yourself believe it."

A raw hatred fueled rage took Obi-wan over, drowning out all fear for the demon that stood before him. He had earned his way to knighthood. He couldn't let his master take it from him, even if only by claim. He stood up to face Qui-gon, not a shred of his fear escaping through the pure righteous anger that filled his veins.

"I am a Jedi knight!" Obi-wan shouted loudly, proclaiming for himself if no one else. His mind told him he should be more cautious, more yielding, reminded him of what most certainly was awaiting him after all of this. He tried not to think about it, tried not to show his wavering resolve as his master cut through him with that horrid glare.

Qui-gon's voice took on a familiar deathly tone, the one that filled Obi-wan with panic, although he tried desperately not to show it, he suspected the mask of strength was fading. "You're no knight. You're a glorified slave who has forgotten his place."

I am not a slave!

Tears beaded at the edge of Obi-wan's eyes as he resented every hint of emotion that he failed to stifle. "No!" His voice began to betray him as well, cracking and breaking.

"You're a slave and a whore." Qui-gon declared darkly, reaching out to trap dark coils of the force around Obi-wan's throat, lifting him from the ground.

Obi-wan frantically tried to breathe but failed. Quickly he felt his body numbing and going limp. Finally, he thought, awaiting the promise of black, empty peace. Just as he felt he might lose consciousness, his body was violently thrown to the other side of the room, through the door, tumbling and crashing at the foot of his sleeper. He found himself coughing and gasping for air yet again, bitterly wishing for the unconsciousness that would have been so sweet in comparison.

Qui-gon walked towards him, unfastening his belt and losing his pants as he did. Obi-wan tore and clawed his way from the monster that was headed towards him, desperately trying to put as much distance between himself and his master as he could. Shameful cries and pleads tore out of him as he tried so hard to evade the inevitable. At the start of all this, he thought he might actually have been able to fend him off, to get away. He cursed himself for being so wrong, for giving into such blind delusions of grandeur.

He couldn't even defend himself. How was he ever going to be able to defend Anakin? The thought stabbed at his heart viciously as he found himself trapped in the far corner of his room with no escape.

Qui-gon chuckled as he neared closer to him slowly, savoring each moment. "I expected something like this sooner or later, but I have to admit this was quite the surprise. I didn't realize you were so stupid to think you could actually get away from me." Qui-gon knelt down, his body towering over Obi-wans. His cold rough hands felt like sandpaper on Obi-wan's skin as his master tried to get him face down. Obi-wan resisted, curling up, kicking and punching at him, still not giving in so easily to his master's will. Qui-gon only laughed as he reached out through the force and easily pinned him down.

Obi-wan began hyperventilating, tears blinding him as they fell over his face. This had happened so many times before. Something about this time felt especially terrible. There was a sense of defeat that sawed through his heart.

It felt like something was being taken from him. He wished he could just be empty, so that there was nothing left for his master to take at all. For the most part, that's how it had become for him over the years.

He remembered that voice, that kind gentle voice. It all seemed so cruel now. He hated it, hated that he had been handed any hope at all, but in anticipation of everything that was about to happen to him, those treacherous words filled his mind.

I am not a slave, I am not a slave, I'm not-

"You are," his master spoke, slapping the side of his ass then firmly gripping him, leaving purple marks behind and red trailing nail marks. Obi-wan wanted to move away from him, to move at all, but he was still glued in place. The more he tried to fight it, the harder it became to breathe.

Qui-gon lowered himself on top of him, pressing himself against his entrance. "You are mine." Without warning he slammed himself into Obi-wan, earning a yelp followed by whimpers and pleas for mercy. Qui-gon only answered him with more thrusts, each more violent than the last, accompanied by satisfied grunts.

His master's hands gripped him harshly, leaving bruises wherever they wandered. Obi-wan tried to focus on something else, anything else. Tried to not feel his master all over him, inside of him. Tried not to hear the sick sounds and strings of evil words coming from his master's mouth.

It was harder than usual, for him to escape to some place else. Eventually as the moments drug on he found himself thankful for the raw sensation of carpet burns forming over his body where his skin made contact with the ground. They were bright and distracting, easy to absorb himself into. The stinging sensation turned to fire as his master pressed him harder against the floor. He had long since stopped trying to move, it only made it so much harder to stay sane. Although sanity was something he lost quite some time ago, or so it felt.

Eventually, Obi-wan lost his sense of how much time had passed since he had been frozen in place. There had been a spot near to him on the floor where the feint sunlight had shone down, but that had long since faded as the sun set across the sky. The skin that had been rubbed raw now only felt swollen and numb. Qui-gon had spent himself multiple times. Obi-wan lost count after the seventh.

Where he once found it hard to escape, now his mind was simply broken and empty. The traces of himself that had been given back had been taken away just as easily. He was trapped in all manner of ways. The parts of him that still had the ability to put words together told him he had been foolish to ever think he could win against his master. Every second was a cruel reminder of that fact.

After what felt like a small eternity and several more orgasms for his master, Qui-gon pulled himself off of Obi-wan and released his force hold on him. Obi-wan didn't so much as move a muscle. He didn't really believe it was over, he felt like it would never truly be over.

Qui-gon turned Obi-wan's limp body over, tracing fingers over the bloody spots on his shoulders and hips where his skin had been rubbed away with an interested expression on his face. Obi-wan stared at nothing, eyes listlessly trained on the air before him. Qui-gon brushed his knuckles over the side of Obi-wan's face, thumb falling over his cracked dry lips. Obi-wan screamed inside of himself, only a single tear falling from his eye to show what lie beneath.

With a satisfied hum, Qui-gon hoisted him up in his arms and carried him to the fresher, setting him down on the rug while he quickly cleaned up the tile fragments before placing Obi-wan in the tub and filling it with warm water. Qui-gon made quick work of cleaning him up, drying him off, and placing bacta on his wounds. All the while not a word was said between the two of them.

After he was finished cleaning him up and caring for him, Qui-gon placed Obi-wan under his bed covers and pulled them up over his battered body. Softly, he climbed on top of the covers beside him and began to pull his fingers through Obi-wan's hair, tousling it playfully.

Qui-gon nestled his lips near to Obi-wan's ear as he spoke softly and sweetly. "Who do you belong to?"

Obi-wan's throat tightened against the words as they came out of him, intrinsically reacting against them. "You, master," he whispered quietly.

"That's right." Qui-gon purred in his ear, planting a kiss on his cheek, fingers tracing the line of his jaw. Obi-wan's chest filled with a heavy dread. He hated how much he loved these gentle touches, how Qui-gon knew it. How his master could switch between brutalizing him and crooning him in an instant. It wasn't fair.

Without another word, Qui-gon withdrew, leaving him alone to stare at the ceiling for hours, waiting for a sleep that would never come, that wretched voice filling his mind with so many pretty lies that his foolish heart wanted so badly to believe.