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laniew1I realized looking over my notes and outline this morning that this story is almost over (with the exception of the Obi-Wan/Jude stuff that will be written separately.)
I think maybe thirteen more parts, unless I get off schedule.
Qui-Gon was a bit more touchy-feely than Liam had probably ever thought of playing him.
TITLE: Between Space & Time
RATING: R - because Ewan likes to cuss
PAIRING: nothing yet, will end up (eventually) Ewan/Anakin
Author: Melanie
DISCLAIMER: Heh, I own nothing. Ewan owns himself as does anybody else that is a real person in real life. George Lucas owns everyone that that is property of Star Wars. I make no money off of them. Don’t sue.
Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10 / Part 11 /
Part 12 / Part 13 / Part 14 / Part 15 / Part 16
Between Space & Time – Part 17
Qui-Gon was a bit more touchy-feely than Liam had probably ever thought of playing him.
Whenever he visited Ewan’s dark little cell (which was often) he touched him, reverently, softly, like he was some precious possession that he’d only recently had returned to him.
He had to hope that Anakin wouldn’t raise his eyebrow and force him to spill his guts again.
Even though there was no kiss to be freaked out about, there might have been but Ewan had figured out what was going on and turned his head in the knick of time.
Qui-Gon had seemed quite put out that the kiss had landed on his ear but he hadn’t tried again.
Ewan could look quite fearsome when he wanted to. Ironically he’d learned the ‘don’t fuck with me’ glare from Angie. He’d have to remember to thank her when he managed to return, maybe he’d send her Jonny gift-wrapped. Put them all out of their misery.
Do not trust Qui-Gon Jinn.
It would have helped if Obi-Wan had been a bit more forthcoming with the details on why he shouldn’t trust Qui-Gon other than ‘he abandoned me’.
Qui-Gon was Obi-Wan’s Master, if there should have been one person that Obi-Wan trusted beyond a shadow of a doubt it should have been Qui-Gon.
Instead he was being told to not trust him, to take his life in his own hands and escape as soon as possible.
Obviously something had happened, something that had caused Qui-Gon Jinn to abandon his Padawan, to abandon the boy that he would have chosen over his Padawan, although he wondered if in this whacked out world if that was still the case.
Had Qui-Gon stood before the Jedi Council and insisted that he be allowed to teach Anakin?
Or had the split happened even before then.
What about Darth Maul? Had Obi-Wan still defeated him, had there even been a Darth Maul for him to battle?
He made a mental note to force Obi-Wan to spill his guts, he wanted a list in alphabetical order of who was a good guy, who was a bad guy, who was dead, who was alive.
He wanted to be prepared so he could figure out who the next person to drug him and/or kidnap him was going to end being so he could prevent it from happening.
Do not trust Qui-Gon Jinn.
Yeah that was real fucking helpful.
Ewan drew his legs up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. He stared at the door and contemplated how he was going to make good his escape.
His lightsaber was hanging next to Qui-Gon’s on his belt, he’d seen them tangling together the last time Qui-Gon had visited him.
He wondered if that was Qui-Gon’s way of taunting him with the fact that he was less than a Jedi right now.
No Force, no lightsaber.
Equals no Jedi Master.
He’d already surveyed the tiny little cell he was encased in for possible weapons. There were none, everything was bolted down tightly like they were afraid that their prisoners would escape and attempt to take the bunk with them.
And it was bloody small; if he stood and reached out both arms at the same time he could touch the walls. He wondered if the room was shrinking because it hadn’t seemed that small when he’d first woke in it.
Maybe he was developing some latent claustrophobia?
He sighed, rubbed a hand across his face, picked at the collar.
He hated it, the skin on his neck felt overly sensitive and he wanted the damn thing off now.
He laid his head against his knees and wondered who his next visitor would be. They typically took turns, and they appeared to be playing some demented version of bad cop; not so bad, but still not good cop.
He’d had no difficulty deciding who was who in that scenario.
Padmé was the bad cop, continually reattaching the leg iron so that he couldn’t sit on the opposite side of the room as her, forcing him to sit on the bed with her snuggled up close right next to him. She forewent holding his hand because he’d scratched her the last time she’d tried it, she tried it again he was not above biting her.
Qui-Gon was obviously playing the role of not so bad, still not good cop, removing the leg iron when he came in. Massaging his ankle, speaking softly of the past like he could coax memories free if he just told enough stories. Refusing to take off the collar because if he did so ‘you’ll hurt yourself, I’m only protecting you from making a decision that you would end up regretting’.
He was pretty sure that Qui-Gon’s idea of what he would regret was vastly different than Ewan’s, or even Obi-Wan’s at this point.
Plus he was tired of having to bite his tongue to keep from telling him that no amount of stories was going to make him remember a life he hadn’t lived, but could he tell him what he’d done that was so horrible that Obi-Wan didn’t want him anywhere around him.
Inquiring minds wanted to know.
***************************************************************
Mace Windu had him meditating again.
Not even Obi-Wan had forced him to meditate this much.
Part of Mace’s theory was that even though the Force connected them all together, as Obi-Wan had been his Master and there had at one point been a training bond between them, that Anakin would have an easier time plucking Obi-Wan’s Force signature out of thin air.
Anakin knew that it was fruitless though, knew that some large, black wall (not of their making) had separated him from his Master. From Obi-Wan.
And no matter how long or how deep his meditation cycles went he could not break through.
Could not feel his Master at all through the bond that had connected them for over half his life.
And while he waited and meditated and worried his anger at Padmé and Qui-Gon grew.
Without his Master there, without Obi-Wan’s calm demeanor it festered within him.
He had horrible, wonderful visions of torturing Padmé. Of tormenting Qui-Gon Jinn by separating him from the Force, all manners of the Force. Both light and dark.
An especially vicious vision had Qui-Gon on his knees, begging for release from his suffering while Anakin kissed and bit at Obi-Wan’s sweet lips.
Which of course was something that Obi-Wan wouldn’t allow.
The torture or the public display of affection.
Obi-Wan didn’t like being treated like a possession and Anakin had no doubt that when he regained his full memories (which Anakin had no doubt he would) he would be in for a long, tiresome lecture on how he wasn’t a belonging or a toy or most of all that he wasn’t a possession.
He actually didn’t think he’d mind the lecture because that would mean he had his Obi-Wan back.
The one who loved and adored him and most of all wasn’t afraid of him.
But first they had to find him and his would be kidnappers/protectors.
Anakin let himself be caught up in a vision of plucking Padmé’s hair, strand by strand, from her head. Leaving her cowering on the floor as bald as Mace Windu who was now staring at him with narrowed eyes and a pursed mouth.
Anakin stared at him in return. He would not apologize for thoughts that were his own.
Padmé and Qui-Gon needed to pay. They needed to be made to suffer like he had.
“You are teetering very close to the edge of the Dark Side. You fall over that ledge and I will not hesitate to destroy you,” Mace’s voice was calm and very matter of fact. Like they were discussing the weather. Or the theory of the Force against weather dynamics.
Anakin smiled thinly in return. “My thoughts are my own, they hurt no one.”
“Do you believe Master Kenobi would believe that? He believes you to be a good, honorable Jedi. I would hate to see him disappointed in his condition.”
Anakin drew a breath, attempted to release his anger and his hatred into the Force. Of all the things that Mace Windu could have said, reminding him that Obi-Wan wouldn’t approve was the best.
Obi-Wan would never stand by and allow him to take his anger out on Qui-Gon or Padmé. He would insist they needed help; he would probably attend sessions with the Mind Healers to make sure they got it.
And sometimes Anakin hated that Obi-Wan cared and took care of everybody else and always seemed to place himself last.
Mace nodded once in satisfaction and turned to leave.
“We’ve managed to lock onto the Tracker signal that Chancellor Palpatine supplied us with. We should catch up with them in less than a day.”
He walked out the door, Anakin came to his feet smoothly and followed. Hoping the path that they were following was the correct one to lead him to Obi-Wan.
***************************************************************
I think maybe thirteen more parts, unless I get off schedule.
Qui-Gon was a bit more touchy-feely than Liam had probably ever thought of playing him.
TITLE: Between Space & Time
RATING: R - because Ewan likes to cuss
PAIRING: nothing yet, will end up (eventually) Ewan/Anakin
Author: Melanie
DISCLAIMER: Heh, I own nothing. Ewan owns himself as does anybody else that is a real person in real life. George Lucas owns everyone that that is property of Star Wars. I make no money off of them. Don’t sue.
Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10 / Part 11 /
Part 12 / Part 13 / Part 14 / Part 15 / Part 16
Between Space & Time – Part 17
Qui-Gon was a bit more touchy-feely than Liam had probably ever thought of playing him.
Whenever he visited Ewan’s dark little cell (which was often) he touched him, reverently, softly, like he was some precious possession that he’d only recently had returned to him.
He had to hope that Anakin wouldn’t raise his eyebrow and force him to spill his guts again.
Even though there was no kiss to be freaked out about, there might have been but Ewan had figured out what was going on and turned his head in the knick of time.
Qui-Gon had seemed quite put out that the kiss had landed on his ear but he hadn’t tried again.
Ewan could look quite fearsome when he wanted to. Ironically he’d learned the ‘don’t fuck with me’ glare from Angie. He’d have to remember to thank her when he managed to return, maybe he’d send her Jonny gift-wrapped. Put them all out of their misery.
Do not trust Qui-Gon Jinn.
It would have helped if Obi-Wan had been a bit more forthcoming with the details on why he shouldn’t trust Qui-Gon other than ‘he abandoned me’.
Qui-Gon was Obi-Wan’s Master, if there should have been one person that Obi-Wan trusted beyond a shadow of a doubt it should have been Qui-Gon.
Instead he was being told to not trust him, to take his life in his own hands and escape as soon as possible.
Obviously something had happened, something that had caused Qui-Gon Jinn to abandon his Padawan, to abandon the boy that he would have chosen over his Padawan, although he wondered if in this whacked out world if that was still the case.
Had Qui-Gon stood before the Jedi Council and insisted that he be allowed to teach Anakin?
Or had the split happened even before then.
What about Darth Maul? Had Obi-Wan still defeated him, had there even been a Darth Maul for him to battle?
He made a mental note to force Obi-Wan to spill his guts, he wanted a list in alphabetical order of who was a good guy, who was a bad guy, who was dead, who was alive.
He wanted to be prepared so he could figure out who the next person to drug him and/or kidnap him was going to end being so he could prevent it from happening.
Do not trust Qui-Gon Jinn.
Yeah that was real fucking helpful.
Ewan drew his legs up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. He stared at the door and contemplated how he was going to make good his escape.
His lightsaber was hanging next to Qui-Gon’s on his belt, he’d seen them tangling together the last time Qui-Gon had visited him.
He wondered if that was Qui-Gon’s way of taunting him with the fact that he was less than a Jedi right now.
No Force, no lightsaber.
Equals no Jedi Master.
He’d already surveyed the tiny little cell he was encased in for possible weapons. There were none, everything was bolted down tightly like they were afraid that their prisoners would escape and attempt to take the bunk with them.
And it was bloody small; if he stood and reached out both arms at the same time he could touch the walls. He wondered if the room was shrinking because it hadn’t seemed that small when he’d first woke in it.
Maybe he was developing some latent claustrophobia?
He sighed, rubbed a hand across his face, picked at the collar.
He hated it, the skin on his neck felt overly sensitive and he wanted the damn thing off now.
He laid his head against his knees and wondered who his next visitor would be. They typically took turns, and they appeared to be playing some demented version of bad cop; not so bad, but still not good cop.
He’d had no difficulty deciding who was who in that scenario.
Padmé was the bad cop, continually reattaching the leg iron so that he couldn’t sit on the opposite side of the room as her, forcing him to sit on the bed with her snuggled up close right next to him. She forewent holding his hand because he’d scratched her the last time she’d tried it, she tried it again he was not above biting her.
Qui-Gon was obviously playing the role of not so bad, still not good cop, removing the leg iron when he came in. Massaging his ankle, speaking softly of the past like he could coax memories free if he just told enough stories. Refusing to take off the collar because if he did so ‘you’ll hurt yourself, I’m only protecting you from making a decision that you would end up regretting’.
He was pretty sure that Qui-Gon’s idea of what he would regret was vastly different than Ewan’s, or even Obi-Wan’s at this point.
Plus he was tired of having to bite his tongue to keep from telling him that no amount of stories was going to make him remember a life he hadn’t lived, but could he tell him what he’d done that was so horrible that Obi-Wan didn’t want him anywhere around him.
Inquiring minds wanted to know.
Mace Windu had him meditating again.
Not even Obi-Wan had forced him to meditate this much.
Part of Mace’s theory was that even though the Force connected them all together, as Obi-Wan had been his Master and there had at one point been a training bond between them, that Anakin would have an easier time plucking Obi-Wan’s Force signature out of thin air.
Anakin knew that it was fruitless though, knew that some large, black wall (not of their making) had separated him from his Master. From Obi-Wan.
And no matter how long or how deep his meditation cycles went he could not break through.
Could not feel his Master at all through the bond that had connected them for over half his life.
And while he waited and meditated and worried his anger at Padmé and Qui-Gon grew.
Without his Master there, without Obi-Wan’s calm demeanor it festered within him.
He had horrible, wonderful visions of torturing Padmé. Of tormenting Qui-Gon Jinn by separating him from the Force, all manners of the Force. Both light and dark.
An especially vicious vision had Qui-Gon on his knees, begging for release from his suffering while Anakin kissed and bit at Obi-Wan’s sweet lips.
Which of course was something that Obi-Wan wouldn’t allow.
The torture or the public display of affection.
Obi-Wan didn’t like being treated like a possession and Anakin had no doubt that when he regained his full memories (which Anakin had no doubt he would) he would be in for a long, tiresome lecture on how he wasn’t a belonging or a toy or most of all that he wasn’t a possession.
He actually didn’t think he’d mind the lecture because that would mean he had his Obi-Wan back.
The one who loved and adored him and most of all wasn’t afraid of him.
But first they had to find him and his would be kidnappers/protectors.
Anakin let himself be caught up in a vision of plucking Padmé’s hair, strand by strand, from her head. Leaving her cowering on the floor as bald as Mace Windu who was now staring at him with narrowed eyes and a pursed mouth.
Anakin stared at him in return. He would not apologize for thoughts that were his own.
Padmé and Qui-Gon needed to pay. They needed to be made to suffer like he had.
“You are teetering very close to the edge of the Dark Side. You fall over that ledge and I will not hesitate to destroy you,” Mace’s voice was calm and very matter of fact. Like they were discussing the weather. Or the theory of the Force against weather dynamics.
Anakin smiled thinly in return. “My thoughts are my own, they hurt no one.”
“Do you believe Master Kenobi would believe that? He believes you to be a good, honorable Jedi. I would hate to see him disappointed in his condition.”
Anakin drew a breath, attempted to release his anger and his hatred into the Force. Of all the things that Mace Windu could have said, reminding him that Obi-Wan wouldn’t approve was the best.
Obi-Wan would never stand by and allow him to take his anger out on Qui-Gon or Padmé. He would insist they needed help; he would probably attend sessions with the Mind Healers to make sure they got it.
And sometimes Anakin hated that Obi-Wan cared and took care of everybody else and always seemed to place himself last.
Mace nodded once in satisfaction and turned to leave.
“We’ve managed to lock onto the Tracker signal that Chancellor Palpatine supplied us with. We should catch up with them in less than a day.”
He walked out the door, Anakin came to his feet smoothly and followed. Hoping the path that they were following was the correct one to lead him to Obi-Wan.