Clutching My Cure

Chapter Three

The Gardens normally brought a sense of peace and calm for the Jedi Master, a chance to reconnect with nature and all things living. The soothing sound of splashing fountains, the cry of birds at play, and the artificial breeze made by ceiling fans were to be treasured in light of their rarity. Mission duty kept him away from the Temple a majority of the time, something he was normally grateful for. Being under the watchful eye of the collective High Council was not something he enjoyed.

Qui-Gon Jinn shifted his weight as he contemplated the reason behind his current discontent. He knew deep down inside that this melancholy was circular in nature, reasserting itself on a particular date twice each year. Ignoring it did him no good, as the looks of sympathy he garnered from fellow Jedi during these times was a clear reminder. After all, it wasn’t often a Jedi Master was responsible for driving two apprentices away from the Order. Two of the brightest and most promising students no less.

His hand trembled as he pressed the pads of his fingers against stinging eyes. There it was. The reason for his discontent, or rather, reasons. Today was the Naming Day of the younger of the two, who’d be turning twenty-one somewhere in the vast reaches of the galaxy. His thoughts had been consumed since his eyes opened, wondering what the gangly boy he remembered looked like now, and what he was doing with his life.

Obi-Wan Kenobi.

The name brought a stabbing pain to his heart, making it difficult to breath. Both hands dropping down to grip the edge of the bench in a white knuckled grip, his large body swaying back and forth as he fought for composure. Just thinking about the boy was painful enough to bring him to his knees, the constant shame he felt mocking his anguish. He had no one but himself to blame for what had happened, for the damage he had wrought back then. No matter how he may have tried in the past, he couldn’t even blame Xanatos for his actions.

Xanatos deCrion.

The feelings and emotions that name elicited were polar opposites to the ones young Obi-Wan’s did. Xanatos of the razor sharp wit, keen intelligence, driving ambition and impressive skills. Xanatos of the overactive libido, dark secrets, and thirst for power.

Qui-Gon shuddered, his face flushing with remembered heat.

Xanatos had worshiped his Jedi Master, lusted after him in secret for years. The boy had staged an elaborate seduction, taunting his mentor with his frequent bed partners, Knights and padawans. He’d strutted around their apartment the older he’d grown, wearing next to nothing, careful to flash an occasional hint of forbidden flesh for Qui-Gon’s viewing pleasure. There was a limit to what even a Jedi Master could endure without caving in to his bodies demands.

They’d waited until Xan had turned the legal age on Coruscant. Barely. No sooner had the last of the guests been ushered out the door, then Qui-Gon had found himself draped with his equally tall apprentice. The boy had been unstoppable, hands, lips and tongue reducing his mentor into a shivering pile of enflamed nerve endings in a matter of minutes. And the sex had been explosive, binding Qui-Gon with chains made from whispered words of devotion and promises of undying love.

Until Crion had suddenly reappeared in his son’s life. The Telosian Governor had lured his son from Qui-Gon’s side by offering the things the Jedi Master could never provide. Wealth, power and prestige. Xanatos greed had made him an easy target for his father’s manipulations, and so he’d turned his back on the Jedi Order. Walked away from his Jedi Master without ever once looking back, leaving a broken shell of a man in his wake.

Qui-Gon’s solitude was broken by a gentle probe through the training bond he shared with his apprentice. Straightening, he drew his shields up and smoothed his features into relaxed lines as he awaited the arrival of his young charge. He knew it was a futile gesture, as his bright apprentice would see right through the ruse.

"Master, are you well?"

Forcing a smile to his lips, Qui-Gon nodded as he gestured for the young man to join him on the bench. As his offer was accepted, the boy hurrying forward, Qui-Gon took advantage of the unguarded moment to study his student.

At twenty standard years of age, Bruck Chun was an impressive physical specimen. Only a few meters shorter than Qui-Gon’s own impressive height, the young man was all solid and honed muscle. His white spiked hair was a startling contrast to the golden tan of his skin and the deep blue of his eyes. A long plait of white hair hung down to mid-chest, a symbol of his status as a padawan learner. He had been Qui-Gon’s apprentice for the last five years, chosen a year after Obi-Wan had left the Order.

Bruck’s first mentor had been killed while on a mission, leaving a grieving and traumatized fourteen year old behind. Something about the far too solemn and quiet boy had spoken to Qui-Gon, the Force demanding he step in to complete Bruck’s training. The day he’d asked had been the turning point in both their healing processes. They’d become a formidable team and developed a close friendship on top of it. It was that bond that allowed Bruck to speak his next words without fear of admonishment.

"You’re brooding about them again."

"Yes," Qui-Gon admitted with a faint smile, his hand resting on the young man’s shoulder.

Bruck gave a soft hiss of frustration. "I thought you’d finally accepted that what happened wasn’t your fault. No one made either of them chose the paths they did."

"I appreciate your defense of my past actions, Padawan. But neither of us can escape the fact that I made grave errors with both of them. Especially, Obi-Wan."

Bruck felt those old resentments try to push their way to the surface as he saw his mentor’s face crease into pained lines. His dislike was evident in his tone as he addressed the matter of his childhood nemesis.

"Obi-Wan was always weak. He wouldn’t have made it even if he had stayed."

There was no need for words, the measured look sent his direction spoke volumes for the disappointment Qui-Gon was feeling. Bruck’s own gaze fell beneath it, a blush staining his cheekbones as he braced himself for whatever punishment his mentor gave him.

"That’s poorly said of you, Padawan. Obi-Wan Kenobi was a mere child at the time. A child that I deserted on a war torn planet after speaking harshly to him. He didn’t deserve that treatment from me, or anyone else."

"But he lifted a weapon against you!"

"He thought what he was doing was right at the time. I can’t fault him for that, and neither should you." Qui-Gon gave Bruck’s shoulder a firm squeeze. "You must work through these negative feelings you harbor against him."

"Yes, Master," Bruck whispered obediently.

Patting the young man’s back in understanding, Qui-Gon got to his feet. "It’s almost time for our appointment before the Council. We can discuss this more later."

Bruck grimaced as he fell into step behind his master. He would be only too happy to never hear the names of Obi-Wan Kenobi and Xanatos deCrion for as long as he lived. Wherever the two were in the galaxy, he hoped they were miserable.