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Title: After Jabiim
Series: Star Wars Republic
Author helgaleena helgaleenas@yahoo.com
Rating: R
Archive/Distribution: yes.
Category Slash H/C
Spoilers: Dark Horse Star Wars Republic
Summary: Ani and Obi help each other recover after the battle of Jabiim, and the torture by Asajj Ventress
Warnings: Dream of Padme ; Obi's been worked over
Disclaimer: Lucas is the god of Star Wars and owns everything. I am nothing.
Authors Notes-- contains my theory of Obi-Ani-Padme-Qui

I: I truly, deeply hated our mission to Jabiim. That world was churned into ruins by its resistance to our efforts to save it, from worse despots than we represented. Who was the enemy, really? Why must we fight those we were trying to save? Why weren't we succeeding? Had the Force deserted us, when it came to Jabiim?

So many lives lost-- soldiers, innocent civilians, Jedi. Padawans, my classmates. And worst of all, my Master Obi-wan Kenobi was lost...

...though I persistently dreamed, not of his death, but of his torture. Soon I hated sleep, too.

Then came word of Obi-wan's rescue, or rather, his escape with clone Alpha, from Asajj Ventress' stronghold on Ratatak. They had indeed been tortured, then encountered even more setbacks on their way to Republic space. My master was reported to be at the end of his strength.

I had been reassigned to Master Oppo Rancisis; he had me set out on an intersecting course, in order to rejoin Obi-wan. We hoped he would recover enough to take me as Padawan again.

I finally located my master again in the corridors outside the dreadnought's medical bay. He looked as grey and wrung out as a dishrag. There were patches of sim-plast dappling his arms and brow.

"Master, you're alive!" Not a brilliant observation, but who cares?

He looked up at the sound of my voice, leaving some bleak vision that had been occupying him too deeply to hear my approach. His eyes were dark-circled and bloodshot, a horrible contrast to their usual green. Something was matted in his beard on one side. What I could see of him became blurred by my tears, and my throat would produce no more words.

Obi-wan took a moment to recognize me. Then he shuffled forward until he could lean his head on my shoulder. And in the middle of that congested corridor, we held each other and cried. People simply had to go around us. Any attempt to restrain our sobbing would have been futile.

"I knew it! I knew you were still alive!" I blubbered into his matted hair. He continued to bury his face in my chest, his broad shoulders shaking, my tunics getting warm and wet with his tears. Oh his poor face. My nightmares had been full of the horrible torture mask used on him by Asajj Ventress. Nobody had believed me---not even me. If only Master Rancisis had believed in nightmares...

I had a cabin, with a fresher and a beverage dispenser and nearly nothing else. I don't know what kind of quarters General Kenobi had been assigned, the back-from-the-dead General Kenobi. The aides that had been with him in the med bay had tactfully disappeared.

Finally I was able to quit crying, enough to switch to raining discreet kisses on his hair. Sith!--he was going white on top! Eventually the kissing calmed him enough that he could raise his face to mine. We regarded each other, wet-faced and blinking.

"Anakin---" he said, almost whispering.

"Yes, Master?"

"Is there any chance of a cup of tea?"

I grinned and nodded as if my head would come off. He would be all right. Master Rancisis would no longer have to sprain his brain on me. Laughing at the ludicrous blubbering Jedi we were, we set off to my quarters, never losing our hold on each other.

II-- "Yes, it was Asajj." Obi-wan's voice was beginning to return to its normal level, now that we had sipped tea for a while. He had inhaled the aromatic steam of it like a fine vintage. We were sitting on the narrow bunk in my so-called quarters, there being nowhere else to sit. It didn't matter as long as we could continue to touch.

"I saw the mask in my dreams, Master." At the very mention of the word he flinched, trying to control it. Our eyes met again. His were full of bottomless despair at his own weakness. A smouldering rage started to build in my gut. He saw.

"No, Anakin, it's in the past. It was a Sith device," he continued, as if finding reasons to pardon himself. My rage was doused; more properly, it began to direct itself into a determination to get my master back to his full strength, whatever it took.

Crying is thirsty business, so the first step was simply to pour beaker after beaker of tea into ourselves, not saying much, just taking turns holding the other with one arm, while the opposite arm was pouring in the tea. Eventually, my master took a deep breath, then let it out. With cracked lips he approximated a smile.

"Let's see if we both fit into the fresher."

Yes, Dr. Skywalker, this patient will live! Chuckling, I went to turn it on.

III-- We both fit into the fresher.

And I nearly started to cry again at the full sight of his tortured body. He had lost quite a lot of weight; I don't think I'd ever seen my master's ribs before. There were wounds from the manacles, now plast-ed, and extensive bruising. Worst, around the borders of his face, a line of burns radiated in every direction, with angry extensions down his neck. I could hardly imagine what forces would cause such markings on a being's body.

"Until now, Anakin, I haven't had the leisure or the stamina to go into healing trance."

"Oh, my dear Master...." I began to kiss every mark I could find on his body. The fresher hid the tears that sprang anew from our eyes. I kissed every angry inch of his face. I drank his tears. I licked his ears as if I were a mother Togruta and he were my kit. I put the lathering compound into his hair and beard, and directed the fresher spray to rinse it out the most gently. I lifted his chin and tenderly kissed his poor broken lips.

My kisses continued down his neck, and I wound myself around him to also cover his nape. My fingers hovered just above the surface of his back, careful of any welts or scrapes, as I kissed every injury I could find on his shoulders and chest.

When I rubbed my nose and cheeks upon his chest hairs and nipples, he moaned softly. I stopped, checked with the Force. Was it pleasure or pain he was feeling?

I heard. No matter what had been done to him, I would soon make pleasure predominate.

Despite my tenderness, the familiar scent and feel of my beloved master was beginning to be very titillating. I could feel an erection happening as I went to my knees before him. My master's eyes had drifted shut and he was relaxing almost bonelessly against the fresher wall. But when my tongue began to circle his navel, he groaned again, and his manhood began to rise.

I began feathery touches of my fingertips upon his back and the backs of his legs, and my kisses moved at last to their goal. But before I devoted myself to that goal, I didn't wish to exclude his feet. Yes, I, Anakin Skywalker, the Chosen One, got down on my hands and knees in the fresher to kiss my master's toes! As I did the backs of his knees he groaned yet again, and toppled forward to rest his hands upon the opposite wall. I took him round the waist then, and rising to one knee, supported him while I paid homage to his behind.

He was fully conscious again now! Grinning to myself I stood again, still grasping him firmly, and placed us chest to chest. I wanted to spread my Obi-wan over myself like an unguent. I wanted to rub his sweet aroma over my body as if he were a cloth full of musk. But I knew it might be too hard on his body just now.

"Padawan?"

"Yes, Master?"

"Dry us." He was smiling, with a familiar twinkle beginning in his glorious eyes. He looked a decade younger.

I flipped the switches for the drying cycle. Soon we were surrounded by the swirls of heated air, and moved apart sufficiently to let them pass between us. Obi-wan was feasting his eyes on me, and I on him. How close I had come to losing him! How could I live without him?

He began to kiss me in return, very gently, with nearly no motion to his lips. His beard and moustache would approach the surface of my skin with great deliberate slowness, moving hair by hair closer, until his entire mouth pressed into my skin. It was the most individual caressing, a way no one else could possibly touch me, and as if I were the most precious thing in the universe. My breathing deepened, and my nipples responded as the moisture left us. Oh, my dearest Master.

We left the fresher and I pulled the coverings of the bunk aside. We lay down together in each other's arms, and simply kissed.

I drank from his mouth as if it were a deep well,and I had thirsted for a thousand days. I stroked his hair as his head lay pillowed upon my arm. I didn't care if my synth hand could feel the hair or not. I simply wanted to see him relaxing into my caresses. He did.

I felt as if I could watch him raise and lower his golden lashes for hours, as he gazed back at me with love. He let out a sigh of contentment, and the pace of his gentle stroking of my side began to slow. Gently the lashes drifted shut for a final time, and he slept.

I lay awake a bit longer, watching my precious master's even breathing. I certainly had enough self-control to put off my desire. One major desire was satisfied simply by his being in my arms. I signaled the lights lower, breathed him in, and went to sleep wrapped around him.

IV-- That night I think we slipped into healing trance in our dreams, because the next thing I knew, we were both in that place we go sometimes, to be with Qui-gon. He is both my Master, and my master's Master, and he knew some things about persistence after death. I am absolutely sure he is keeping his promise to help in my training, even though in our waking lives it's Obi-wan's job.

In our dream this time, my master and Qui-gon kept folding in and out, first two persons, then one. When I reached out to Obi-wan, it seemed as if Qui-gon moved closer to him. And when Obi-wan and I touched, it seemed like touching Qui-gon as well. It was rather amusing, in the dream. If I backed up, so did they, as if we were all mirror images of one another. But the best and most wonderful thing was that Qui-gon was just as well and whole as Obi-wan. And Obi-wan had not a scratch on him.

Curious, I looked down at my own hands. There were the manacle marks, the scrapes and bruises, transferred to my wrists. But as I watched, they faded, until I saw my own familiar hands. And Obi-wan drew closer to me, whispering into my ear--

"Anakin, I'm alive!"

My heart leaped. And we embraced.

I looked over Qui-gon's shoulder as he beamed down at us. There, at a little distance, looking the other direction, was Padme! She was in her Handmaiden's robes, with the hood down, but her back was to us. She could see part of Qui-gon, but not us. It was as if we were separated by a transparisteel barrier.

A huge longing rose in me to go with her, be with her, to tough the nape of her delicate neck, revealed under the dark waterfall of her hair. But the more I yearned, the more Obi-wan's grip on my dream-body tightened. He met my eyes and said,

"She is well."

Our embrace didn't end until my desire for Padme was under control. Then, as we stepped away from each other, it seemed as if Padme was drawn closer. It was if an elastic band enclosed the four of us, with a tension structure in between. I tweaked and twisted it, to Qui-gon and Obi-wan's amusement. Advance, retreat, forward, backward, the sums of all our motions balanced out, maintaining the polygon.

It was most intriguing, and I knew it was some sort of Force riddle. I never have much patience with solving those, but this one seemed worth the effort.

Then I felt a prickling and a chill behind me. Something very much wanted me to look away, to turn around----

I woke, to find my back was completely uncovered by the bedclothes. Meanwhile, the front of me was toasty warm from the contented bulk of my master. I sighed and rearranged myself with my back to him, covering us both more securely. He snuggled into my new position, one leg around my waist and his breath warm on my neck. Sleep accepted me again.

This time I was back on that slime world, Jabiim. Nothing but endless swamps, diseases, and parasitis or carnivorous wildlife, fertilized by the corpses of Republic soldiers. And at least a hundred Jedi....

I was part of that troop of masterless padawans, covering that ignominious, miserable, bloody, grueling, filthy, sopping wet retreat. I was the only padawan survivor. Now I was back there in my dream, stuck in that organic stinking sump of vegetation feeding on the rotting bodies of beautiful living beings, and the darkness was falling, and we slogged through that mucky world, all uphill it seemed, into defeat. So many padawans, my friends, dead before they would ever be knights. And worst of all in this ungrateful place we couldn't save, my master was lost....

M

y dream self was shaking his fist at the sky, at this mess on a planetary scale, and yelling, at the top of his lungs---

"Who did this? Who did it to us? I'll kill them!!"

I woke up with a yell, reflexively leaping upright. I was sweating and shaking. I couldn't catch my breath. I was what my master has described as completely off-balance. My head was still spinning and my hands and feet were prickling with the fury of the dream.

"Anakin!"

I was standing in the middle of the room! Obi-wan was raising himself up on the bed, looking to me, at that moment, like a garden in a wilderness.

"Where were you?" he asked matter-of-factly.

"Jabiim....and you were lost again..."

"Breathe, Padawan." I got my breath to slow down.

"Obviously a false dream, eh?" he said, putting his legs over the edge of the bunk. He padded over to a pile of laundry and found a tunic to dry me with.

As he patted it over me, I noticed his wrists. There was not a mark on him. He was as whole now as in my dream of him and Qui-gon! Thank the Force! This was a clue to which dreaming was the truth, if ever I saw one. I began to smile.

VI--- "Master, you're better---how much better?"

"Let me show you." Obi reached up and snagged my mouth, tongue first. I slurped it up as if it were a sweet, and we were off, dueling with tongues. I hooked one leg out from under him and we toppled onto the bed, rolling over and over and ending up on the floor, laughing. His smile, with the lips healed, was relaxed and glowing. I was laughing so hard that I hit my head on the fresher door. That set us off again, laughing like maniacs and pointing at each other.

When that refreshing interlude died down into a companionable glow, I took his shining face between my hands. He did not flinch.

Slowly I brushed his lips with mine. I then began to nibble at his lips, then devour them. He fisted his hands into my hair with a growl and captured my bottom lip, sucking fiercely. A burst of lightning shot to my groin, and my hips began to rock. I pulled him to me and braced my back agains the door. In a flash he had straddled me, kneeling.

His beautiful, bigheaded organ was dancing right in front of my face. I watched like the serpent watches the flute of the serpent charmer. How I wanted to taste it, lave it, feel it slam into the back of my throat!

I gently ran my fingertips over the hairs on the backs of his thighs, asking permission with my eyes. It was granted. With his hands on the door behind me, Obi-wan lowered himself into my mouth.

I sucked and licked at the tip, with delicate scrapes of my teeth, until my master moaned aloud. Then I permitted myself to lick, with long luscious strokes,the landscape of veins along the shaft. Soon Obi-wan was letting his hips begin their ancient rhythm, diving deeper and deeper into my welcoming mouth. I looked up to see his expression. Our eyes meeting was enough to make him accelerate his pace, thrusting harder until my head was impacting against the door. I reached up to hold his buttocks, to participate in that rhythm which my own hips had also taken up. I squeezed that bounty. And he let go with a glad cry, pumping his creamy seed into my voracious throat. I continued to suck at him for some time, until his joy caused him to cry out again,

"Anakin!" and collapse between my upraised knees, head upon my shoulder. I kissed him then, to see his sparkling eyes, and to let him taste.

That taste seemed to be a thing that he was craving, as he cleaned out my mouth with his tongue, all the while clasping me to him. His hand began to play along my shaft until he was pumping most energetically, and I could contain myself no longer.

I rolled over onto him and pulled him up again with me, trapping him against the edge of the bunk, both on our knees. My hands pulled his back against his smooth chest by rubbing enticingly through his chest hairs. I began to nibble his neck, and he pushed himself more firmly against my groin. I was bobbling between his legs now, tickling at his balls from behind, as I pulled his face around for another kiss. I felt his hand steal down and begin to play with my tip. OH! How could I live without this?

There was a tube of oil within easy reach. Panting, I poured it upon the fingers of my left hand, then put them inside Obi-wan gently, oh so respectfully. He made a deep humming rumble of pleasure and bent forward over the bed, holding my other hand, the synth one, in both his own. Reaching around to annoint his shaft as well, I-- went home.

I was home. I held still there, trembling with the sheer perfection of that place. The trembling transferred itself to Obi-wan, who began to writhe and groan and pull at the hand he held.

Then letting out my own cry of joy, I began to move wildly, bucking at a great rate as my orgasm emptied me like a cannon. I don't remember anything more for a few minutes, but when I came back to myself I was still, sated, draped over my beloved, and he turned and drew me up to him, and kissed my perspiring eyelids. There was a sticky place we had to move away from, so we folded ourselves back into the bed again.

VI---- "We have our next assignment, Anakin."

"So soon?"

Obi-wan smiled at me archly. "It's our own fault for recuperating so quickly, my dear Padawan."

But I couldn't return his smile. How much longer before this Sith-begotten war was over? What if there was another attack on Naboo?

"Is there no chance of a return to the capital planet first?" Where a certain lovely Senator might be waiting, I didn't add.

"Sorry, Anakin, but our target is close to us on the Outer Rim, a world called Zaadja. We will coordinate with Master Tahno to stop droid production there.

"And haven't you learned yet, Anakin, that distance between beings in one's heart is an illusion?" He was reading my mind again. Oh, well.

"I've got to believe it, Master. I've lived it."

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