Quinlan squints into the sun, watching as Asajj’s ship disappears into the obnoxious blue of the morning sky. Something in him gives way.
The feeling is akin to a string breaking: first, it frays, then, it snaps, and Quinlan falls. Oh, Force, what has he done? What has he done? What had she done to him?
Suddenly, it’s all very clear to him. He’s been manipulated in all the ways Obi-Wan warned him against, taken for a ride and seduced by a power that could never truly be known. Come on, Vos, you’re smarter than this!
He’s not quite sure when she began influencing him, but he knows that it happened. Otherwise… Otherwise, he wouldn’t have felt those things. He won’t blame his actions on her, but he has no qualms about blaming those foreign, poison feelings on her machinations. That wasn’t love, nor was it anything close to it. Quinlan should have known better.
Beside him, Dooku rises to his knees, straining against the webbing the bounty hunters had trapped him in. The strength of the Dark around him is nauseating and, in that moment, Quinlan feels his return to himself. The thought of killing Dooku like this makes him sick, like it should, like it always had, and Quinlan makes his decision. Before Dooku can do much more than open his mouth, Quinlan brings the hilt of Tholme’s lightsaber down onto his head. Dooku crumples wordlessly to the ground. Quinlan hits him again for good measure.
Quinlan bends down and takes Dooku’s comms from him. He wraps the webbing more securely around Dooku’s wrists and ankles. He sends an all-clear signal to the guard droids. Then, he runs for the woods.
Obi-Wan startles awake so quickly that, for a moment, he’s not sure where he is. Something tugs at his gut and deeper, something Obi-Wan knows more intimately than his own name. Pay attention, little one.
Pay attention. He’s in his quarters aboard the Negotiator. They’re orbiting J’likka. But what…
His comms light up and begin to chirp. Obi-Wan nearly falls out of bed in his rush to grab them. The signal isn’t from a frequency he’s familiar with, but he picks up anyway.
“Obi-Wan?” The voice on the other end of the connection is raw and ragged and filled with so much emotion that tears spring to Obi-Wan’s eyes.
“Quinlan? Force, Quinlan, where are you? What happened? Are you alright?” He curses Quinlan for not enabling the holoprojector on his end.
“Obi-Wan.” For a moment, that’s all Quinlan says. “ Obi-Wan, I. Something happened. I need help.” His voice breaks. “Obi-Wan.”
“I’m here, Quinlan,” he assures him. “Can you tell me where you are?”
A pause. “Serenno.”
Obi-Wan mutters something absolutely foul he picked up from the troopers. Of course. Of course things had gone wrong in the worst possible way. Why else would Obi-Wan Kenobi and the people he loves be involved? “Alright.” He keeps his voice as even as possible. “Are you safe right now?”
“Sort of? I mean, bring medical.” Quinlan goes for a joke, but it’s ruined by the heavy, rattling cough that takes over his laughter. “And you. Bring you. ‘S important.”
Thank the Force for unpredictable solar storms. It’s sheer coincidence that has Obi-Wan hours instead of days away, and he’s already up and getting dressed when he answers. “I’m the closest ship in the area. Send me your coordinates and I’ll be there within the day.”
“Alright.” Quinlan coughs again. His voice is empty of its innate Quinlan-ness and Obi-Wan is so, so scared. “I’ll be waiting.”
Obi-Wan has never run so fast in his life.
He hadn’t even bothered contacting the Council before leaving. He’d just grabbed half of Ghost and Cody and Freefall, one of the medics on duty, and left. Quinlan can’t wait and neither can Obi-Wan.
As they descend through Serenno’s atmosphere, Obi-Wan tucks his hands inside his sleeves to hide their shaking. He should have listened to that feeling.
It’s fine. Quinlan’s alive. He’s fine. Everything will be fine.
Cody must have come up behind him at some point, but he didn’t hear him. When he touches Obi-Wan’s shoulder, he startles, sucking in a breath and turning quickly.
“Sorry, General,” Cody says. His helmet’s off, clipped to his belt, and Obi-Wan can see the concern in his eyes. “Just wanted to check in before we land.”
“Of course.” Obi-Wan hadn’t done much in the way of explaining the situation to the men before leaving. To be honest, he hadn’t known how. There was so much, and so much of it was classified, and Obi-Wan was afraid that if he opened his mouth, he wouldn’t be able to control what came out. “This should be a simple extraction mission.”
“‘Simple?’” Cody raises an eyebrow. “Sir, I understand the security protocols, but we are landing extremely close to Dooku’s base.”
Obi-Wan sighs. “I know, Commander. However, I trust that Master Vos has taken all necessary precautions. Picking him up will be the easy part.”
“And the hard part?”
“Leave that to me, my dear Commander.”
The shroud of Darkness that falls over the ship as they approach the location is expected. Serenno has always been anchored in the Dark and Dooku’s only made it worse in recent years. What Obi-Wan’s not ready for is the open wound in the Force that makes itself known to him as they drop below one hundred meters.
Quinlan Vos’s Force signature is one of the steadiest things in Obi-Wan’s life. He’s known it since he was a toddler; he’d recognize it anywhere. What he feels now is undoubtedly Quinlan, but he’s hurt. His signature has been rent open and scraped out like someone was rummaging around inside him. Dancing through the Light happiness of Quinlan is something Dark and poisonous and so terrible it makes Obi-Wan’s own head throb in sympathy.
You should have paid more attention. You should have seen this coming.
Boil guides the ship to the ground at the base of the cliff Quinlan had told them to look for. Between the rock outcropping and the thick forest surrounding the clearing at its base, their ship is well-concealed when they land. Obi-Wan doesn’t wait for backup before running out into the sun.
It’s evening now, and over the trees, the horizon is lit up in brilliant greens and yellows as the sun sinks ever lower in the sky. Such a beautiful planet on the surface. So much life.
“Quinlan?” Obi-Wan calls. Behind him, Freefall and Longshot set the medical kit down. “Master Vos?”
A shadowy section of the cliff base perhaps three meters away from Obi-Wan shimmers and Quinlan steps out of thin air. “I’m here,” he says.
And he is. Obi-Wan runs forward and catches Quinlan as he lists to the side, apologizing under his breath when Quinlan winces at the touch. He’s been tortured, that much is obvious. He smells like burnt hair and flesh, and every inch of exposed skin is bruised. In a perverse way, it matches his Force signature. “Force, Quinlan, what happened?”
“Obes,” he croaks. “I fucked up. I fucked up really bad.” A tear slips down his face, cutting through the dried blood caking his cheek. “I. Oh, kriff.”
When they were Padawans, Quinlan got in the habit of welcoming Obi-Wan home from missions with bone-crushing hugs that lifted him straight off his feet. He never stopped, greeting Obi-Wan with the same enthusiasm no matter how old they got. Now, Obi-Wan returns the favor, wrapping Quinlan in his arms and holding him as close as he can. “It’s okay,” he says. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”
Quinlan shakes against him, pressing his fever-hot face into the crook of Obi-Wan’s neck. “You were right,” he chokes out through the tears. “You were so right. About all of it.”
Obi-Wan squeezes his eyes shut against the tears that threaten to fall from his own eyes. You should have done something.
Freefall slips his arm under Quinlan’s other shoulder when Obi-Wan starts helping him back to the ship, using his free hand to run a field scanner over Quinlan’s body. “You’ve got some internal bruising and a few broken ribs, but you should be alright until we get back to the Negotiator, sir,” he says. “I’d like to get some water and food in you, though.”
Quinlan hums listlessly, leaning further into Obi-Wan’s side as they hobble up the ramp. He’s weaving the aching parts of himself into the anchor that Obi-Wan offers him, filling Obi-Wan with the sweet completeness of a friend’s presence and the bitter salt of an open wound. Asajj’s residual presence hangs over him even now, prodding at Obi-Wan and offering images of something trying very hard to be love. She hadn’t set out to hurt him, nor he her, but the Dark pulls at the loose ends in everyone, and their disaster had been inevitable.
Freefall, Force protect him, lets Obi-Wan take Quinlan and the medical kit into the tiny medical center alone, closing the door behind them with only a suggestion to get bacta on the worst of the cuts within an hour. Then, he’s gone and Obi-Wan and Quinlan are alone.
Quinlan sits on the edge of the cot, shoulders hunched and hands clasped together in his lap. He refuses to meet Obi-Wan’s eyes. Undaunted, Obi-Wan finds a washcloth and wets it in the sink before sitting down next to Quinlan. He takes Quinlan’s hand in his own and sets about cleaning it, rubbing dirt and grease and blood from the callouses and cuts and warm, smooth skin. Quinlan’s fingers twitch. Obi-Wan remains steady, wiping the last of the gore away and reaching for the other hand.
Quinlan shifts, pulling himself further onto the cot and turning to face Obi-Wan. This time, he places his hand in Obi-Wan’s willingly, letting the other settle on Obi-Wan’s thigh. When Obi-Wan begins to clean his hand, he closes his eyes, leaning towards him just the slightest bit. He’s still shaking, but it’s finer now, little tremors running through him when Obi-Wan touches a sensitive part of his hand.
“I’m going to clean your face now,” Obi-Wan says when he finishes with Quinlan’s hands. Quinlan opens his eyes and makes no move to escape as Obi-Wan lifts the cloth ever so slowly to his cheek. Quinlan’s eyes meet him for the first time since they’ve boarded the ship and he maintains that contact as Obi-Wan rubs a splash of dried blood from the side of his nose.
Quinlan is and always has been the most beautiful person Obi-Wan’s ever seen, and a little blood and dirt does nothing to diminish that. Obi-Wan is reverent as he runs the cloth over the strong line of Quinlan’s cheekbones, bringing the gold back into his tattoos as he goes. For a moment, he lowers the cloth and simply runs his fingers down the crooked slope of Quinlan’s nose and over his lips. Quinlan shivers.
“Done,” Obi-Wan whispers, wiping the last of the blood from Quinlan’s temple. Quinlan’s eyes follow him as he moves to the sink and rinses the washcloth out, dropping it in the laundry bin.
He turns back to Quinlan. He’s completely on the bed now, legs stretched down the length of it and back resting hesitantly on the pillows like he’s not sure they’ll support his weight. He looks tired. Obi-Wan tears a narrow strip off of one of the bandages Freefall had left for them and moves to stand behind Quinlan’s head. Gently, he gathers Quinlan’s locs at the back of his head, ghosting his nails over Quinlan’s scalp as he goes, and ties the ponytail with his improvised hair tie. Then, he grabs a tub of bacta and drags a chair up to the side of the cot.
Quinlan, Obi-Wan realises as he sits down, isn’t going to start talking on his own. Obi-Wan opens the container of bacta and takes a fingerful, leaning over Quinlan to begin applying it to the gash on his forearm. “Dooku is still alive, yes?”
“Yeah.”
“And Asajj?”
Quinlan flinches. “I mean, I would assume so.” He hisses when Obi-Wan touches the bacta to the worst of the wound. “Cold.”
“My apologies.” Obi-Wan sights his next target for bacta treatment. “You two are no longer working together, then.”
Quinlan doesn’t respond.
Obi-Wan considers his next move. “I’ve got to get at your face,” he says. “I don’t want that cut to fester.” Quinlan nods, staring at Obi-Wan with those shattered eyes, and Obi-Wan stands, setting the bacta aside. Carefully, he swings his leg over Quinlan’s waist, transferring his weight to the knee as he climbs entirely onto the bed. He settles on Quinlan’s lap, putting his hand on his shoulder for balance.
“Hi,” Quinlan breathes, warm and solid underneath him.
“Hello, there.” Obi-Wan doesn’t reach for the bacta. “Quinlan, what happened?”
Quinlan’s eyes slip down and away from him and he tips his head forward, doing his best to hide under his bangs. “Everything,” he says. “E-Everything. Obi, I Fell.”
The story begins pouring out of him.
By the end, both of them are spent. Quinlan’s face is damp with tears. Obi-Wan has slid off his lap to sit beside him and lean on the wall.
It’s not an unheard of story.
It’s not Quinlan’s fault.
Obi-Wan tries to tell him this, but Quinlan protests. “Obi, no. You can’t- I’m not- you shouldn’t be here. I’m not coming back from this.”
Obi-Wan shakes his head. “Quinlan, you already have. You have.” Quinlan chokes on his own breath and Obi-Wan sits up, clambering over him to sit on his lap again. He takes Quinlan’s face in his hands. “You are a good person, Quinlan Vos. You are a good person who was affected by a corrupting power. You are not evil.”
“You can’t know that,” Quinlan says, turning away from Obi-Wan’s hands. “The Force doesn’t work that way. You don’t know that it corrupted me.”
“I know you, Quinlan,” Obi-Wan implores. “I know you, and you are the smartest, most compassionate being I have ever known.”
“I’ve done terrible things,” Quinlan says, covering one of Obi-Wan’s hands with his own.
“So have I. That’s what it means to be alive, love. None of us are perfect. What matters is that we keep trying.”
Quinlan tugs Obi-Wan down by the front of his robes, kissing him with such gentle intensity that Obi-Wan forgets the universe for a moment. He cradles Quinlan’s jaw and puts a hand on the back of his neck, drawing him closer. Quinlan whimpers, a soft sound that breaks Obi-Wan’s heart, and pulls back.
“I can’t,” he whispers. “I can’t. It’s... I… Attachment,” he finishes. “That’s what happened.”
Obi-Wan rests his forehead against Quinlan’s. “Quinlan Vos, we have been together for two decades and you’re backing out on me now?” he scolds, smiling. “If you’re not ready, that’s fine. But what we have? It’s not forbidden to love someone. It’s not attachment. It’s not Dark.”
“I was with her.”
“When have we ever been exclusive?”
“I’m a terrible Jedi.”
“That makes two of us, my love.”
Quinlan smiles, just a ghost of a thing. “I knew there was a reason I stopped arguing with you,” he huffs. “Always have to get the last word.”
Quinlan kisses Obi-Wan again. Obi-Wan falls into it with something like hope flowering in his chest.