Once in a Lifetime - part 2/5
Headers, warnings, etc. in part 0/5
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
I was distracted from my meditation by the sound of the message unit's chirp. No. To be honest, I'd have not heard half the temple crash down if I were truly tuned to a Force-enhanced meditation. But my memories were coming closer to *that night* and I would have welcomed any reprieve.
I didn't recognize the name of the party calling me, but the extension code originated from the Quartermaster's section. I answered, and a female voice announced without greeting or preamble that she was a friend of Anakin's and could I shave my beard and come to the Mission Requisition area right away? I don't startle easily, but I admit I missed a beat before I reluctantly agreed. As much as I didn't want to remember, that much more I dreaded what was to come at seventh hour, and I knew meeting this person was the first tangible step along that road.
I arrived at the south wing of the sixtieth floor -- always a hive of activity, with Jedi acquiring and returning implements, clothing, weapons and disguises for various missions.
Feeling quite exposed without the beard I'd worn for the past decade, I scanned the area, not knowing what Anakin had arranged. A tall human female motioned to me right away, and I followed her down a corridor and into a small room with a workbench. She introduced herself as Knight Meniiyan Dess, sat me down in the room's only chair, and immediately began prepping my face for a plasmer mold.
She was nervous, and talked as she worked to hide it. She'd been Ani's first friend when he came to the Temple. Brought to the Temple late herself, at age four, she understood what he was going through. They'd helped each other out over the years, and she was glad to lend a hand with this, even if she wasn't quite sure what was going on.
Meniiyan was assigned to Requisition work while she recovered at Temple from a mission injury. I think she was under the impression that she was helping me prep for a less-than-sanctioned mission, and I suppose that was mostly true.
She swabbed all oil, dirt, and what felt like two layers of skin from my face, then brushed on the liquid material, which assumed a rubbery texture within seconds.
After carefully cutting out nostrils and eyeholes, she peeled the ultra-thin mask off my face and placed it on a specialized, head-shaped lathe. Consulting a datapad, she began making fine pits and raised ridges on the surface, using extra bits of plasmer, a patterned block and a tiny scalpel. With a sick feeling, I realized what she was doing, and wondered exactly how Ani had come by the specifics. The level of detail was more than he could have seen from one glance. Had Qui-Gon told him? Had he "coaxed" the information from sealed Temple records?
She was done quite quickly, and turned on a heating unit inside the lathe to seal her work. Plasmer is a technical wonder. The material, once molded and set by high heat, is durable, and takes the coloration and natural skin temperature of whatever humanoid skin it's placed on.
She helped me fit the new mask over my face, adjusting the nostril holes. Plasmer all but disappears into skin, so there is no need to adjust for a hairline; one merely leaves a small space of natural skin before the hair begins. Even eyebrows appear natural under the transparent material. She handed me a small mirror (assuming I knew what I was supposed to look like) and my face appeared to be a mass of fine scars, all tiny pocks and ridges. I brought my free hand up automatically, and felt ridged scar tissue; it was warm, but not as pliable as unmarred skin.
I sat staring at my changed image so long Meniiyan asked me if she'd missed something, and I quickly assured her the work was excellent. I removed the mask and she rolled it right up and placed it in a small cloth bag.
I thought we were through, but she moved behind me and combed her fingers through my hair. Pulling out a drawer from her workbench, she removed a fine-toothed comb, and began adjusting a small display set into the handle. I knew what this was for, having used one myself many times on missions.
"Hair color doesn't matter."
She frowned and consulted the datapad. "It's not meant to be black?"
"He... can't tell hair color by touch." It was a sorry explanation, but all I could think of at the time.
"What about hair texture?"
I nodded my assent, and she brought out a similar device and brushed it through my hair thoroughly. In its wake was finer, straighter hair.
"It will assume its natural texture in a few cycles."
I gave myself another cursory glance in the mirror at her behest, complimented her for the quick work, and stood to leave. The mask in its bag tucked neatly into my belt, and my hood hid my hair.
"I'll have the clothes sent to your rooms by sixth hour."
Anakin again, being thorough.
"That will be fine. I thank you for your discretion, Knight Dess."
We bowed to each other and I left, returning quickly to my rooms to resume the meditation. Where was I? Ah, yes. After Naboo.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
As soon as Qui-Gon had recovered from the 'saber blow from the Sith Apprentice, I was Knighted.
My ceremony was public and quite heavily attended, for several reasons. Among them were the unusual circumstances of the Naboo mission that served as my Trial. Then there were the rumors regarding my deeper relationship with Qui-Gon. To this day I don't know how that became common knowledge. I had never spoken of it and Qui-Gon insisted he hadn't either. While not expressly forbidden among Jedi the way outside commitments were, it was uncommon. I suppose it's possible my behavior during Qui-Gon's recovery was the culprit. My reaction probably went beyond that of a distraught Padawan.
Also, many Jedi who spent most of their lives in the field were back on Coruscant. The Temple as a whole and the High Council in particular were trying almost desperately to discover how Palpatine had deceived them so easily. The Senate was more than happy to classify his turning and ascent to power as Jedi business. Ferreting out Palpatine's network required the combined expertise of nearly one hundred Jedi, and most were at Temple being briefed on new assignments when my ceremony took place. They were curious to see the Padawan who had defeated a Sith.
Finally, this ceremony was one of special importance to Qui-Gon. My Knighting was a kind of personal victory, following the taint of having his previous Apprentice turn to the Dark. Not only had Xanatos turned on the cusp of his own elevation to Knighthood; he had also attacked the Temple by turning an age mate of mine, still an Initiate, to the Dark side. Ever theatrical, he'd actually committed suicide a year later on his home world of Telos by falling into an acid pit to avoid capture. All of Qui-Gon's friends and associates who'd supported him during that desperate time were on hand and thrilled to see him cut my braid.
My maverick Master gave them all their money's worth. At the ceremony's conclusion, he pulled me close, tipped my head back with both hands and gave me a kiss that was... thorough.
The crowd was murmuring by the time he pulled back, and then they began to clap. I was so astounded my mouth held the position of the kiss until he pushed up playfully on my chin, making my teeth click, then turned me around to present me.
That was easily the happiest day of my life.
* * *
That night I told Qui-Gon my deepest desire. I wanted to twine our life Forces together through our bond, transmuting it into a lifebond.
We'd gone back to our shared quarters and waited a bit impatiently for Ani to finally tire and go to sleep in my old room. We then retired, and started our own -- quiet -- celebration. I was tentative at first. I wanted to make sure he was fully recovered, and my careful touching brought forth all the fears I'd repressed over his dire injury. I was stroking his chest, brushing close to the healed wound, when I broke down and began my Knighthood by crying.
Qui-Gon proceeded to show me just how healthy he was, and my body responded with equal vigor. My fear was replaced by lust, love, and confidence in our future together. He loved me with his mouth, and then drove into me vigorously, stopping only to lean back on his knees and pull me up to straddle him, one of my favorite positions.
I placed my knees atop his thighs for leverage as thrust up into me, and balanced by grasping his shoulders. This gave him easy access to lean in and suck my nipples, while his hands covered my ass, pulling and lifting in time with our thrusts. Somehow having to be quiet while I felt his teeth gently graze my nipples, felt his coarse hairs against my hole, felt his exhalations become shorter and harsher against my sweaty skin made the act more private, intimate, and sacred then ever before. I barely remembered to restrain my cry when I came, my cock pressed into his stomach. He bit hard on my collarbone to muffle his own shout and followed me, shuddering as deep inside me as he had in my mouth our first time.
He lowered me back to the bed and kissed me soundly. Our emotions were as open to each other as our current bond allowed, and I suddenly found the courage to broach the topic of a lifebond with him.
Lifebonds are probably the most misunderstood of all bonds to non-Jedi. The name is a misnomer; one's life is not dependant on the bond. It's more of a Force marriage, though most Jedi wouldn't like this description, given the Order's position on excessive emotional attachments. But just as marriage entails entwining a couple's lives and resources, so does this type of bond entwine the mental energies of two Jedi. While partners in a marriage can still have secrets from each other, this is not possible with a lifebond.
Qui-Gon held my hand while I blurted out my intentions, but he didn't immediately agree. In fact, he'd stopped allowing his emotions to flow out to me. I didn't doubt that he loved me -- I was more curious and anxious than hurt. I gave him time, and he finally spoke.
"Never doubt that I care for you, Obi-Wan. But I'm much older than you, and I've had strong bonds with others..." he broke off.
I began to understand. Part of the process allows each mate to examine bonds of various types the other has entered into. For most Jedi, such an intimacy as a Force bond of any sort is reserved to mates, very close friends, Masters...and Padawans. Xanatos. Qui-Gon was in some way reluctant for me to examine the bond he'd formed with his former Apprentice. An Apprentice who'd tried to destroy him *and* me.
I brought our joined hands to my lips and kissed his fingers. "I know you loved him -- he was your *Apprentice*. I wouldn't expect less of you." Pausing, "Is that the only reason? I know this is sudden..."
Qui-Gon laughed softly then, though his eyes were somber. Oh, how I loved his laugh and smile. "That is quite a large reason. But if you truly want to bond with me, how can I deny you?"
I must have smiled like a fool, because he laughed again. Louder, but not so loud as to wake Anakin, and that was the last sound either of us made that wasn't part of lovemaking.
That night was easily the most joyous of my life.
* * *
The next evening saw Anakin comfortably ensconced in the quarters of Qui-Gon's old friend Plo Koon, ostensibly for the purpose of further evaluation before he formally became Qui-Gon's Padawan. The Council was very curious about this boy who'd disabled a 'droid control ship by simply following his instincts, and Qui-Gon told me with a chuckle that Plo had had to fight Yoda and Adi Gallia for the privilege of babysitting.
We'd meditated separately, bathed ourselves thoroughly, and now knelt facing each other on Qui-Gon's large sleep pallet, dressed only in sleeveless tunics. We began the bonding by opening our minds to each other, but this was a different type of openness than we'd previously shared. The level of awareness and trust as we slipped into each other's consciousness was almost mentally painful. Years of discipline were deliberately discarded as we extended our consciousness without reserve into each other's minds, while simultaneously tearing down our mental barriers -- but only with regards to each other. It was hard work, and we were sweating with exertion at the end of it, though we hadn't moved a muscle.
Finally, we were at a place at once inside our normal selves but also basking in the luminance of the other's presence. I opened my eyes, as did Qui-Gon -- and I could alternately see him and see myself from his eyes. It was only in this hyperaware state that lifebonding could begin.
We would learn each other's thoughts, fears, emotions, likes and dislikes, and our own memories would remember the other's. After this was over, we would be able to achieve this state more easily as time went by. I was extremely interested by the possibilities the lifebond would afford in lovemaking, and could simultaneously feel Qui-Gon feeling my sexual need and hear his amusement.
We were equals in this, but a dozen years of deferral on my part and leadership on his made it seem natural that he would probe my mind and memories first. It was now well into the second hour of our meditation, and the state was more familiar to me. Nevertheless, it was an anxious time. There were no barriers, and Qui-Gon could see my petty worries, frustrations, sexual experiences and fantasies. I felt as if I were being judged, and wondered if I would be found lacking.
I needn't have worried. His mind in mine was like a gentle caress, mapping my desires, fears, experiences, and my deep love for him. I could feel his affection as he withdrew, pulling my consciousness even tighter into his so I could map his mind with mine.
It was hyperawareness, in that I could see everything at once, yet I could sift through individual memories and emotions. Qui-Gon's mind was represented to me as a vast, round chamber with each strong memory a scene I could touch and sink into.
There were bits and fragments from years of missions. He didn't like the color yellow, yet liked yellow dremmi flowers better than pink ones. I felt the first time the child Qui-Gon had touched the thrilling, yet calm, touch of the Living Force during a meditation. Smells, familiar and unknown; the sensation of swimming in cold, deep water. I knew how his muscles ached after throwing up for hours from food poisoning, and how even now the smell of fresh crowder fish made him nauseous. How sex felt from within his body. His first time -- with a lovely female Twi'lek -- and his last time with me, just the night before. The odd, crinkly feel of a knife cutting through braided hair.
Finally, I began gently touching and exploring the bonds Qui-Gon had forged with others. I had only the one with him, but he had several. Only those with his old master and first Apprentice, Shirtha, were active. I could feel along them to sense the living presences on the other side. It was in this way that Qui-Gon had discovered the Sith Apprentice's Master.
A bond forged with his best friend from his youth had the mental texture equivalent -- to my interpretation -- of a brittle, dried, decaying rope, tied on one side to Qui-Gon, but floating free on a mental breeze on the other. That friend had died nearly twenty years ago, and I could instantly feel the pain associated with the loss, as Qui-Gon himself had felt it all those years ago. My hand reached out instinctively and touched his face.
Yet another, weaker, bond was with an old lover. It lay quiescent, since their split a decade ago. They'd remained friends until just a few years past -- and I instantly knew, in the sometimes-jolting way this joining provided, that the friendship had ended because of his growing attraction to me, and her disapproval. Qui-Gon no longer cast feelings through that bond, nor did he open himself to any from her. I moved on to the last.
Xanatos. Qui-Gon tensed, in body and spirit, as I began exploring that bond. He'd cut himself off from communication twenty-two years before when Xanatos had turned to the dark side. Xanatos has perished eleven years later on Telos, so I expected the bond to be fragile, crumbling, dead.
But it wasn't.
Shocked, I poured energy into tracing it, even as Qui-Gon gasped. He'd avoided the pain of that lifeless bond to Xanatos because he'd assumed, as we all had, that Xan's fall into the acid lake had killed him. But there was definitely a living presence on the other end.
The life Force was muted, disdainful, sad, and listless. I knew in a flash I could follow it, and with Xanatos unsuspecting, perhaps even discern his location. The Jedi needed to know this! He was a dangerous killer, a rogue, and if we could just...
It was then that I felt Qui-Gon tense and panic, and attempt to expel my presence from his mind. He's in shock, I told myself. I just need a second longer and I can find out...
"STOP!"
I heard him shout before it registered that he'd also struck me across the face to break my concentration for the bonding.
It was the mental equivalent of leaning against a door, only to have it suddenly open. I actually fell forward and had to brace myself on my hands. I looked up at him in utter confusion, but he was paying me no attention at all. He was gasping, with his eyes tightly closed; then he got off the pallet and began to pace. I just watched him, frozen in stillness against his hyperactivity. Then he stopped, and his face transformed with joy. He brought his arms together as if he were hugging someone tightly, and started...to sob.
"Master? Qui-Gon?" I asked. Pleaded. But he didn't hear me.
"He's alive." His voice broke as his whole frame shuddered. "Oh, Force, I hadn't dared hope."
* * *
It hadn't sunk in at first. I'd felt outside of myself. I was still in a hyperaware state, but there was no longer anything for me to concentrate on. He'd withdrawn from my mind so quickly, and his emotions had shifted so rapidly, that I had blurred mental vision and was physically dizzy.
The mental shock didn't last long -- couldn't last -- and when the pain hit, all I knew was the need to get away.
I was numb, and weak as if I'd been fasting, when I staggered to my feet, pulled my cloak around me, and half ran, half stumbled from our quarters, barefoot. One step, another step. It only mattered that I was putting distance between myself and the source of the pain. I wasn't thinking clearly enough to realize that no distance would ever be enough. I must have made quite a sight as I lurched along the Temple's corridors with my hood up and my arms wrapped around myself. I remember thinking if I unclenched them, I'd just flow away and cease to exist.
I found myself in the Field Jedi wing. Rarely at Temple, these operatives had little need for permanent quarters, and were assigned rooms as needed. Any Knight was welcome here, and I walked up to the communal door and tapped in a request for a room on the datapad. My hands were quite steady, I noticed with some surprise. The request wasn't approved for a half-second, and I had time to wonder what I would do if the Temple records hadn't been updated with my new status.
But the request was approved with a beep, and the screen lit up with the number of my tiny room.
I went in, fell onto the bed, and slept. Or passed out -- I don't know which; I just knew that the pain went away for awhile.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
TBC...
Headers, warnings, etc. in part 0/5
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
I was distracted from my meditation by the sound of the message unit's chirp. No. To be honest, I'd have not heard half the temple crash down if I were truly tuned to a Force-enhanced meditation. But my memories were coming closer to *that night* and I would have welcomed any reprieve.
I didn't recognize the name of the party calling me, but the extension code originated from the Quartermaster's section. I answered, and a female voice announced without greeting or preamble that she was a friend of Anakin's and could I shave my beard and come to the Mission Requisition area right away? I don't startle easily, but I admit I missed a beat before I reluctantly agreed. As much as I didn't want to remember, that much more I dreaded what was to come at seventh hour, and I knew meeting this person was the first tangible step along that road.
I arrived at the south wing of the sixtieth floor -- always a hive of activity, with Jedi acquiring and returning implements, clothing, weapons and disguises for various missions.
Feeling quite exposed without the beard I'd worn for the past decade, I scanned the area, not knowing what Anakin had arranged. A tall human female motioned to me right away, and I followed her down a corridor and into a small room with a workbench. She introduced herself as Knight Meniiyan Dess, sat me down in the room's only chair, and immediately began prepping my face for a plasmer mold.
She was nervous, and talked as she worked to hide it. She'd been Ani's first friend when he came to the Temple. Brought to the Temple late herself, at age four, she understood what he was going through. They'd helped each other out over the years, and she was glad to lend a hand with this, even if she wasn't quite sure what was going on.
Meniiyan was assigned to Requisition work while she recovered at Temple from a mission injury. I think she was under the impression that she was helping me prep for a less-than-sanctioned mission, and I suppose that was mostly true.
She swabbed all oil, dirt, and what felt like two layers of skin from my face, then brushed on the liquid material, which assumed a rubbery texture within seconds.
After carefully cutting out nostrils and eyeholes, she peeled the ultra-thin mask off my face and placed it on a specialized, head-shaped lathe. Consulting a datapad, she began making fine pits and raised ridges on the surface, using extra bits of plasmer, a patterned block and a tiny scalpel. With a sick feeling, I realized what she was doing, and wondered exactly how Ani had come by the specifics. The level of detail was more than he could have seen from one glance. Had Qui-Gon told him? Had he "coaxed" the information from sealed Temple records?
She was done quite quickly, and turned on a heating unit inside the lathe to seal her work. Plasmer is a technical wonder. The material, once molded and set by high heat, is durable, and takes the coloration and natural skin temperature of whatever humanoid skin it's placed on.
She helped me fit the new mask over my face, adjusting the nostril holes. Plasmer all but disappears into skin, so there is no need to adjust for a hairline; one merely leaves a small space of natural skin before the hair begins. Even eyebrows appear natural under the transparent material. She handed me a small mirror (assuming I knew what I was supposed to look like) and my face appeared to be a mass of fine scars, all tiny pocks and ridges. I brought my free hand up automatically, and felt ridged scar tissue; it was warm, but not as pliable as unmarred skin.
I sat staring at my changed image so long Meniiyan asked me if she'd missed something, and I quickly assured her the work was excellent. I removed the mask and she rolled it right up and placed it in a small cloth bag.
I thought we were through, but she moved behind me and combed her fingers through my hair. Pulling out a drawer from her workbench, she removed a fine-toothed comb, and began adjusting a small display set into the handle. I knew what this was for, having used one myself many times on missions.
"Hair color doesn't matter."
She frowned and consulted the datapad. "It's not meant to be black?"
"He... can't tell hair color by touch." It was a sorry explanation, but all I could think of at the time.
"What about hair texture?"
I nodded my assent, and she brought out a similar device and brushed it through my hair thoroughly. In its wake was finer, straighter hair.
"It will assume its natural texture in a few cycles."
I gave myself another cursory glance in the mirror at her behest, complimented her for the quick work, and stood to leave. The mask in its bag tucked neatly into my belt, and my hood hid my hair.
"I'll have the clothes sent to your rooms by sixth hour."
Anakin again, being thorough.
"That will be fine. I thank you for your discretion, Knight Dess."
We bowed to each other and I left, returning quickly to my rooms to resume the meditation. Where was I? Ah, yes. After Naboo.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
As soon as Qui-Gon had recovered from the 'saber blow from the Sith Apprentice, I was Knighted.
My ceremony was public and quite heavily attended, for several reasons. Among them were the unusual circumstances of the Naboo mission that served as my Trial. Then there were the rumors regarding my deeper relationship with Qui-Gon. To this day I don't know how that became common knowledge. I had never spoken of it and Qui-Gon insisted he hadn't either. While not expressly forbidden among Jedi the way outside commitments were, it was uncommon. I suppose it's possible my behavior during Qui-Gon's recovery was the culprit. My reaction probably went beyond that of a distraught Padawan.
Also, many Jedi who spent most of their lives in the field were back on Coruscant. The Temple as a whole and the High Council in particular were trying almost desperately to discover how Palpatine had deceived them so easily. The Senate was more than happy to classify his turning and ascent to power as Jedi business. Ferreting out Palpatine's network required the combined expertise of nearly one hundred Jedi, and most were at Temple being briefed on new assignments when my ceremony took place. They were curious to see the Padawan who had defeated a Sith.
Finally, this ceremony was one of special importance to Qui-Gon. My Knighting was a kind of personal victory, following the taint of having his previous Apprentice turn to the Dark. Not only had Xanatos turned on the cusp of his own elevation to Knighthood; he had also attacked the Temple by turning an age mate of mine, still an Initiate, to the Dark side. Ever theatrical, he'd actually committed suicide a year later on his home world of Telos by falling into an acid pit to avoid capture. All of Qui-Gon's friends and associates who'd supported him during that desperate time were on hand and thrilled to see him cut my braid.
My maverick Master gave them all their money's worth. At the ceremony's conclusion, he pulled me close, tipped my head back with both hands and gave me a kiss that was... thorough.
The crowd was murmuring by the time he pulled back, and then they began to clap. I was so astounded my mouth held the position of the kiss until he pushed up playfully on my chin, making my teeth click, then turned me around to present me.
That was easily the happiest day of my life.
* * *
That night I told Qui-Gon my deepest desire. I wanted to twine our life Forces together through our bond, transmuting it into a lifebond.
We'd gone back to our shared quarters and waited a bit impatiently for Ani to finally tire and go to sleep in my old room. We then retired, and started our own -- quiet -- celebration. I was tentative at first. I wanted to make sure he was fully recovered, and my careful touching brought forth all the fears I'd repressed over his dire injury. I was stroking his chest, brushing close to the healed wound, when I broke down and began my Knighthood by crying.
Qui-Gon proceeded to show me just how healthy he was, and my body responded with equal vigor. My fear was replaced by lust, love, and confidence in our future together. He loved me with his mouth, and then drove into me vigorously, stopping only to lean back on his knees and pull me up to straddle him, one of my favorite positions.
I placed my knees atop his thighs for leverage as thrust up into me, and balanced by grasping his shoulders. This gave him easy access to lean in and suck my nipples, while his hands covered my ass, pulling and lifting in time with our thrusts. Somehow having to be quiet while I felt his teeth gently graze my nipples, felt his coarse hairs against my hole, felt his exhalations become shorter and harsher against my sweaty skin made the act more private, intimate, and sacred then ever before. I barely remembered to restrain my cry when I came, my cock pressed into his stomach. He bit hard on my collarbone to muffle his own shout and followed me, shuddering as deep inside me as he had in my mouth our first time.
He lowered me back to the bed and kissed me soundly. Our emotions were as open to each other as our current bond allowed, and I suddenly found the courage to broach the topic of a lifebond with him.
Lifebonds are probably the most misunderstood of all bonds to non-Jedi. The name is a misnomer; one's life is not dependant on the bond. It's more of a Force marriage, though most Jedi wouldn't like this description, given the Order's position on excessive emotional attachments. But just as marriage entails entwining a couple's lives and resources, so does this type of bond entwine the mental energies of two Jedi. While partners in a marriage can still have secrets from each other, this is not possible with a lifebond.
Qui-Gon held my hand while I blurted out my intentions, but he didn't immediately agree. In fact, he'd stopped allowing his emotions to flow out to me. I didn't doubt that he loved me -- I was more curious and anxious than hurt. I gave him time, and he finally spoke.
"Never doubt that I care for you, Obi-Wan. But I'm much older than you, and I've had strong bonds with others..." he broke off.
I began to understand. Part of the process allows each mate to examine bonds of various types the other has entered into. For most Jedi, such an intimacy as a Force bond of any sort is reserved to mates, very close friends, Masters...and Padawans. Xanatos. Qui-Gon was in some way reluctant for me to examine the bond he'd formed with his former Apprentice. An Apprentice who'd tried to destroy him *and* me.
I brought our joined hands to my lips and kissed his fingers. "I know you loved him -- he was your *Apprentice*. I wouldn't expect less of you." Pausing, "Is that the only reason? I know this is sudden..."
Qui-Gon laughed softly then, though his eyes were somber. Oh, how I loved his laugh and smile. "That is quite a large reason. But if you truly want to bond with me, how can I deny you?"
I must have smiled like a fool, because he laughed again. Louder, but not so loud as to wake Anakin, and that was the last sound either of us made that wasn't part of lovemaking.
That night was easily the most joyous of my life.
* * *
The next evening saw Anakin comfortably ensconced in the quarters of Qui-Gon's old friend Plo Koon, ostensibly for the purpose of further evaluation before he formally became Qui-Gon's Padawan. The Council was very curious about this boy who'd disabled a 'droid control ship by simply following his instincts, and Qui-Gon told me with a chuckle that Plo had had to fight Yoda and Adi Gallia for the privilege of babysitting.
We'd meditated separately, bathed ourselves thoroughly, and now knelt facing each other on Qui-Gon's large sleep pallet, dressed only in sleeveless tunics. We began the bonding by opening our minds to each other, but this was a different type of openness than we'd previously shared. The level of awareness and trust as we slipped into each other's consciousness was almost mentally painful. Years of discipline were deliberately discarded as we extended our consciousness without reserve into each other's minds, while simultaneously tearing down our mental barriers -- but only with regards to each other. It was hard work, and we were sweating with exertion at the end of it, though we hadn't moved a muscle.
Finally, we were at a place at once inside our normal selves but also basking in the luminance of the other's presence. I opened my eyes, as did Qui-Gon -- and I could alternately see him and see myself from his eyes. It was only in this hyperaware state that lifebonding could begin.
We would learn each other's thoughts, fears, emotions, likes and dislikes, and our own memories would remember the other's. After this was over, we would be able to achieve this state more easily as time went by. I was extremely interested by the possibilities the lifebond would afford in lovemaking, and could simultaneously feel Qui-Gon feeling my sexual need and hear his amusement.
We were equals in this, but a dozen years of deferral on my part and leadership on his made it seem natural that he would probe my mind and memories first. It was now well into the second hour of our meditation, and the state was more familiar to me. Nevertheless, it was an anxious time. There were no barriers, and Qui-Gon could see my petty worries, frustrations, sexual experiences and fantasies. I felt as if I were being judged, and wondered if I would be found lacking.
I needn't have worried. His mind in mine was like a gentle caress, mapping my desires, fears, experiences, and my deep love for him. I could feel his affection as he withdrew, pulling my consciousness even tighter into his so I could map his mind with mine.
It was hyperawareness, in that I could see everything at once, yet I could sift through individual memories and emotions. Qui-Gon's mind was represented to me as a vast, round chamber with each strong memory a scene I could touch and sink into.
There were bits and fragments from years of missions. He didn't like the color yellow, yet liked yellow dremmi flowers better than pink ones. I felt the first time the child Qui-Gon had touched the thrilling, yet calm, touch of the Living Force during a meditation. Smells, familiar and unknown; the sensation of swimming in cold, deep water. I knew how his muscles ached after throwing up for hours from food poisoning, and how even now the smell of fresh crowder fish made him nauseous. How sex felt from within his body. His first time -- with a lovely female Twi'lek -- and his last time with me, just the night before. The odd, crinkly feel of a knife cutting through braided hair.
Finally, I began gently touching and exploring the bonds Qui-Gon had forged with others. I had only the one with him, but he had several. Only those with his old master and first Apprentice, Shirtha, were active. I could feel along them to sense the living presences on the other side. It was in this way that Qui-Gon had discovered the Sith Apprentice's Master.
A bond forged with his best friend from his youth had the mental texture equivalent -- to my interpretation -- of a brittle, dried, decaying rope, tied on one side to Qui-Gon, but floating free on a mental breeze on the other. That friend had died nearly twenty years ago, and I could instantly feel the pain associated with the loss, as Qui-Gon himself had felt it all those years ago. My hand reached out instinctively and touched his face.
Yet another, weaker, bond was with an old lover. It lay quiescent, since their split a decade ago. They'd remained friends until just a few years past -- and I instantly knew, in the sometimes-jolting way this joining provided, that the friendship had ended because of his growing attraction to me, and her disapproval. Qui-Gon no longer cast feelings through that bond, nor did he open himself to any from her. I moved on to the last.
Xanatos. Qui-Gon tensed, in body and spirit, as I began exploring that bond. He'd cut himself off from communication twenty-two years before when Xanatos had turned to the dark side. Xanatos has perished eleven years later on Telos, so I expected the bond to be fragile, crumbling, dead.
But it wasn't.
Shocked, I poured energy into tracing it, even as Qui-Gon gasped. He'd avoided the pain of that lifeless bond to Xanatos because he'd assumed, as we all had, that Xan's fall into the acid lake had killed him. But there was definitely a living presence on the other end.
The life Force was muted, disdainful, sad, and listless. I knew in a flash I could follow it, and with Xanatos unsuspecting, perhaps even discern his location. The Jedi needed to know this! He was a dangerous killer, a rogue, and if we could just...
It was then that I felt Qui-Gon tense and panic, and attempt to expel my presence from his mind. He's in shock, I told myself. I just need a second longer and I can find out...
"STOP!"
I heard him shout before it registered that he'd also struck me across the face to break my concentration for the bonding.
It was the mental equivalent of leaning against a door, only to have it suddenly open. I actually fell forward and had to brace myself on my hands. I looked up at him in utter confusion, but he was paying me no attention at all. He was gasping, with his eyes tightly closed; then he got off the pallet and began to pace. I just watched him, frozen in stillness against his hyperactivity. Then he stopped, and his face transformed with joy. He brought his arms together as if he were hugging someone tightly, and started...to sob.
"Master? Qui-Gon?" I asked. Pleaded. But he didn't hear me.
"He's alive." His voice broke as his whole frame shuddered. "Oh, Force, I hadn't dared hope."
* * *
It hadn't sunk in at first. I'd felt outside of myself. I was still in a hyperaware state, but there was no longer anything for me to concentrate on. He'd withdrawn from my mind so quickly, and his emotions had shifted so rapidly, that I had blurred mental vision and was physically dizzy.
The mental shock didn't last long -- couldn't last -- and when the pain hit, all I knew was the need to get away.
I was numb, and weak as if I'd been fasting, when I staggered to my feet, pulled my cloak around me, and half ran, half stumbled from our quarters, barefoot. One step, another step. It only mattered that I was putting distance between myself and the source of the pain. I wasn't thinking clearly enough to realize that no distance would ever be enough. I must have made quite a sight as I lurched along the Temple's corridors with my hood up and my arms wrapped around myself. I remember thinking if I unclenched them, I'd just flow away and cease to exist.
I found myself in the Field Jedi wing. Rarely at Temple, these operatives had little need for permanent quarters, and were assigned rooms as needed. Any Knight was welcome here, and I walked up to the communal door and tapped in a request for a room on the datapad. My hands were quite steady, I noticed with some surprise. The request wasn't approved for a half-second, and I had time to wonder what I would do if the Temple records hadn't been updated with my new status.
But the request was approved with a beep, and the screen lit up with the number of my tiny room.
I went in, fell onto the bed, and slept. Or passed out -- I don't know which; I just knew that the pain went away for awhile.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
TBC...