together, the three of us.

[quigonejinn]

Inspired by this thing that kano was blathering about.



Did you ever ask what your name meant?

Mine means 'last.' It is the last letter of our alphabet, and my father chose it because that is what the name of my birth planet means, too. He wanted to align the two of us because the end -- I am the last, and the planet, control of the entirety of Telos, was the goal. When the Jedi took me away, he would only let them take me if they promised to let me keep my name. He wanted me to remember who I was every time someone said my name. The only reason he let them take me away was because he had just suffered a great defeat, politically. He was weakened, and he needed an ally on the outside.

You never asked what your name meant, did you? You wouldn't, would you? Precious Padawan.

It's a bird. A bringer of light, they call it, in Qui-Gon's birth language.

...


No, he didn't name you. He wasn't even the one who found you. The creche masters just like Old Sarvenn -- you didn't know that was his birth language, did you? Spoke it for three years until the Jedi took him away. He must not tell you very much. Perhaps he doesn't trust you with things like that. He probably has difficulty trusting people after me, and it does sound like something he'd name a baby, wouldn't he? After a bird.

And you're not even a big bird. Just a small brown one that hasn't even had all its feathers grown in yet. Still wearing your hair short. Still trotting after Master -- look at me when I talk to you, Obi-Wan. I know it's hard to move. The drugs aren't worn off yet, but look at me when I talk to you, or I'll make you look at me, and you won't like that.

There are all kinds of things in the shot that I gave you, Obi-Wan. Things to make you sleep, things to make you wake again. Things to change the way you see. Things that will change how you feel.

You remind me of a sparrow. It's a bird. A kind of bird they have on Qui-Gon's birth planet, small, neat, like you. Bright eyes that look at people, and they hop around trashcans and dirty streets and the like. If you could stand up, I suppose you'd hop, too. Your legs are bound nice and tight together, aren't, they? And so are your hands.

...

Ah, what's this? You don't want me touching it, do you? I can tell by the look on your face that you don't want me to touch it, and it must be precious to you because you carry it with you inside your tunic. Even closer to your heart than your lightsaber. And it's warm from being so close to yo --

Well. It's not warm only because of you, is it? I suppose this is one of the rocks from the River of Light on Qui-Gon's home planet. Did he give it to you? I don't think you've ever been to his planet because you didn't know what a sparrow was, so he must have given this to you. And that's why you keep it so close to you, isn't it? Because your precious Master gave it to you.

I suppose he must have given it to you for your thirteenth birthday. That's the only possession that a good Padawan like you would keep close, wouldn't it? You'd wear it next to your skin, if you could, I bet. I bet you sleep with it in your hand. Meditate with it. Kiss it before you sleep. Clutch it tight in your hand when you think of all the things that you wish you could do with your Master.

It must be warm, warm like Master. I bet you think it would be warm inside those arms, that it would be warm to sleep next to him at night. Warm to kiss him. It's cold in here, isn't it? And storming outside.

I used to sleep next to him at night, you know. Qui-Gon let me, and he let me kiss him. I bet he doesn't let you do either of those things, little sparrow.

...

Do you know what Qui-Gon used to do to me when I slept next to him at night?

I woke up for this part, of course, but he would put his hands on me like so. And then he'd slide my tunic off my shoulders just like I'm doing to you know. He'd look at me for a while -- the lights would be off, but people from Shevenn have very good dark vision. He can't see color in the dark, but he can make out shapes. I bet you didn't know that about him. He can see you at night when you have those dreams where he dies and you get up and go and slip over to his room and make sure that he's still sleeping there. That he hasn't run off on some adventure and left you behind while he dies, alone?

No, I haven't been spying on your dreams. I used to have them too. He drives you crazy with worry sometimes, doesn't he? He used to make me crazy; he would make friends with all sorts of people, eat all kinds of things, sleep in bad places. Pushes himself too hard. At least you haven't seen the scars on him, the ones on his hip and on the inside of his thigh.

You've seen the ones on his hands, I know. The knot where that assassin's arrow caught him. The part on his head where hair doesn't grow, the scar. The aching shoulder.

At night, though, he was never too tired to do this for me. It's not anywhere in the Code or the Indexes or even the Codices, but he would do this for me because I was his precious Padawan.

He would push my tunic down, and then he would kiss me where the neck and the shoulder meet. Like this. And then he'd kiss me between the collarbones. Like I'm doing to you now. He would keep his mouth pressed there for a moment, just listening to me breathe, giving me a chance to stop him if I didn't want him to do it.

I never stopped him, of course. So after a while, he'd turn me around. So that he was behind me. I wasn't tense like you are. I didn't try to move away -- I'd lean back, Obi-Wan. Press myself against him, and after while, he'd move his hand down. Touch my stomach, circle the spot where the umbilical cord had tied me to my mother. When I was born, my father had his name tattooed there. I was as much his child as hers, after all. If she was going to leave a mark on me, he was going to too.

My father's name on the top, right here. And my name on the bottom, like this. Qui-Gon would run his fingers over that place, and he would say my name. He'd stop again, to give me another chance, and I'd always sigh and lean back against him.

He'd be a little hard then, you know. I could feel it pressing against my back, and I'd start to wriggle around it. He'd gasp and hold me a little tighter.

You can feel that I'm hard now, can't you? You wouldn't move for me, though. You won't even talk to me, and I know you're doing that meditation that separates your mind from your skin. Where you pretend that there is a Force barrier separate whatever is happening to your body from your mind. I know they teach that to the Younglings, and I know Qui-Gon has made you practice it and practice it until you could scream. He used to do that to me, too, because he thought it was good for me.

I know exactly how it works, Obi-Wan. You tell yourself that you can't feel anything, so you don't, but you can't keep yourself from hearing, can you? The sound waves enter your ears. You have no control over that. You can't keep it from hapenning, and that's why it's so important to keep from screaming if they torture you. If you scream, you'll hear it. It'll break the illusion of nothing happening to you. You'll be back inside your body.

Additionally, you want to be able to hear. You want to hear the questions of whoever is interrogating to you; you want to be able to report it back to your poor, beloved Master when they're done using you.

You can't shut me out, Obi-Wan. You can tell yourself that nothing is happening to your body. You might not even feel it -- you probably don't know that you're hard right now -- but you can hear me. Why do you think I'm describing what I'm doing to you? Telling you what Qui-Gon used to do to me?

He used to kiss me here. And here. He would lick my shoulder, and then he would put his hand inside my pants. He would hush me because I always used to make a noise, and then he would work my pants down. It would be a little awkward because we'd be curled up together on our sides, on the bed, but he'd manage. It wouldn't be quite as awkward as getting your leggings down, but it wasn't all that smooth either. He wasn't very good one handed and in reverse, in the dark, touching something he couldn't see, and when he also just wanted to get to it and fuck.

So I started to come to bed with the tie on my pants loose. Or undone. Or sometimes, if it was warm on Corsucant or whereever we happened to be, I would wear thin pants, and he would touch me outside of them.

One night, I came to bed without pants at all. I think I was eighteen. One year older than you are now, and that -- you're imagining this inside your head, aren't you?

I'm not going to tell you what we did that night, but I think you know. You know, don't you? You've imagined it. Him doing it to you, you doing it to him. You can't imagine what it feels like to do it to him, what it feels like to be inside your Master, know that you're the reason he's sweating and groaning and arching into his own hand. I know you hear me now.

Before that, though, before we ever did that, he used to kiss me here. And lick my shoulder again, and then he'd take my cock in his hand. You'll have to imagine that my hand is his. It's a little smaller, I know. And the lightsaber calluses are in a different place, but you can pretend. It's the same way that you pretend your own hand is his, isn't it? And I'd be about as hard as you are now. Maybe a little less, because this had happened to me before. Plenty of times. Old news.

It still felt good, though. That big hand, swallowing me up, and his mouth on my shoulder. And you're starting to breathe a little faster now, aren't you? Your meditative state is slipping. You're starting to shiver, and I don't think that it's the cold.

He'd stop when I started to tremble. Like you, I was trying to hold it back. So he'd take his hand away. For a long, long moment, and I'd wouldn't be able to breathe. I just wanted him to touch me again so badly, and he'd kiss me there. A little harder, though. Like this. With teeth. I'd feel how hard he was behind me, and then he'd bury his face in my hair. I wore it long, and then his hand would come down again, just like mine, and there are no aphrodisiacs in the drug I gave you, Obi-Wan. Only tranquilizers. A narcotic to make you sleep. Something to keep you from utilizing the Force.

Come on, Obi-Wan. You can't lie to yourself.

You can't tell yourself that there were, and if there were, it wouldn't matter, would it? This is all inside your head, Obi-Wan. My hand is moving faster, and your hips are moving. You can barely hear me over your own panting now, I know, and you're sweating and gasping and trying to fight free of me, but it won't work. It's too late. Maybe you can even feel my hand now, but it's doesn't matter. You're coming. You couldn't stop yourself if you tried right now -- all over my hand, all over your clothes and the floor, and it wasn't even really even me.

Just you. You've stopped moving now. I know you can hear me. It was you, Obi-Wan. You can't blame me. All inside your head. All your ideas. All because you want your Master when you shouldn't. When he doesn't want you back.

You're the one who did this. Lie there on the ground and think about it tonight. Here's your rock; I'm putting it down right here, and you can look at it all you want.

It's going to be the last night of your life, after all.

...

He's coming up the mountain now. An airsled, one of the lowland ones, and he's pushing it as far as it'll go. You should see what he looks like -- those robes flying around him, and his hair too. He looks like a wild man. If he pushes it much farther, it'll fall apart, and you know, when he was young, he wasn't like this. He was famous for being quiet, easy-going.

Did you hear that? He just roared my name. Told me that he was coming -- he must be using the Force to amplify his voice. Has the drug worn off enough so that you can feel him coming in the Force? You can see your rock glowing on the floor in front of you, can't you? I assure you; it's not me.

We've done this to him, you know, Obi-Wan. You and me, little sparrow. The two of us, together, with him. That makes three.

Sparrow, bringing light. You brought Qui-Gon up here, and in a very short while, I am going to live up to my name, too.

And then there will only be the one of me.