Title: The Librarian and the Biker
Author: Oncidium (hellsmouth@sympatico.ca)
Archive: M_A
Category: Qui/Obi, AR, Angst, Romance, First Time
Rating: For now R for violence and language, NC-17 later for the rest
Warnings: For violence
Summary: A tough biker finds a new self in a sheltered librarian
Feedback: Oh Yes!!!!!...please

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CH01

With one well-aimed thud, the sudden crack followed by the wetness signalled the bone giving out. Blood ran in rivulets from the marred nose, over the red stained lips and dripped from the chin of the man. The pupils of the ice eyes dilated as the adrenaline pumped viciously into the bloodstream, staving off unconsciousness and maddeningly tamping down the pain and not allowing him to crumple to the ground; broken into submission.

Quentin Jinn backed away and pulled his fists back eye level with knuckles turned out in a classic boxer's defensive pose. The back of one hand was now stained with the blood of his opponent, but he could not let up until he was told to do so. Jinn, as he was called by fellow gang members, was the gangs’ chief enforcer. As a gang enforcer it was his role to keep order within the ranks, with violence when necessary. A role that, because of his size, he was put into immediately when the gang had accepted him. A role he hated. A role he needed to fulfil in order for them to still find him useful. A role that today he performed with a heavy heart, for this fight was not over territory nor gang rule being upheld. It was about a man's right to follow the path he wanted in this life. His right to freedom.

Jinn flinched as he saw his younger opponent sway slightly but still remain standing. "Come on lad, just fall down and this can be over with," he thought as he moved in to deliver another well-aimed punch at the once beautiful face. His opponent's head snapped back and forward under the force of the blow, throwing his black hair over his face and obscuring fine features.

"Come on, Xanatos, you obstinate fool. Just fall already and we can get on with our lives."

He remembered when Xanatos had come to him and told him that his days with the Jedi were over. He had a met a girl and fallen in love and because of her disapproval he wanted out.

"You know right now, Xan, that Yoda won't let that happen easily. You don't just up and announce you're leaving the Jedi and then have them say 'Oh, alright, fine. Have a lovely life and here's a parting gift for you. Good luck to you in your new life.’ They will see it as a breach of honour and as twisted as their concept of it is; they will most likely have you killed for it. I would have to be the one to do it and I can’t do that."

"I know, Jinn, but still she said she doesn't want to read about what the Jedi do in the newspaper anymore and know I was there. This whole thing is bullshit and you know it!"

"Bullshit or not, they're not going to let you go. You pledged allegiance to them."

"I can't spend the rest of my life following around an old troll and his thugs."

"There is no honour in taking that sort of risk in order to get laid, Xan..."

"I will have won my freedom fair and square. I will be able to go back to her a free man. To me, that is honour."

"Twisted..."

"I hope you fall in love one day so you know how far you would go."

Looking at the boy now, Jinn was wondering if he would still find it worth it. Xanatos had been lucky that it had been him and not Mace called on to dole out this "send off". Most likely Mace would have killed him by now. Not that he himself had been too gentle on the boy, but he had to make a good showing of it.

Damn it, why didn't Yoda call this off? This had gone far enough, could he not see the boy had sufficiently paid? It now became obvious to him that this was no longer about honour, but anger. This went against what they were supposed to believe in. Honour over anger. They were not supposed to let their actions be guided by anger that was the way. But Yoda was angry with Xan for leaving. Jinn spared a glance up to the platform where Mace and Yoda stood presiding over this perverse ritual.

Yoda was a small man and his physical deformities lent to a troll like appearance, which had been the root of a childhood of neglect and torment by his peers thus producing the semi-insane dark creature who ruled the gang today. When Mace had first brought him before Yoda to petition his entrance into the gang, the wild eyed cackling old man had made Jinn his chief enforcer after he had passed his initiation trials. It had only been after he had gained entrance to the gang that he realized what a truly twisted creature the old man was on the inside. Yoda liked to dispense Zen-like snippets of his perverse philosophies to rationalise anything from petty theft to murder.

They all referred to it jokingly as the Jedi Code. Anger, passion and fear were all things to be avoided. Or as Yoda would put it, "A Jedi seeks not these things."

The wail of police sirens pulling up to the outside of the warehouse where the gang members had congregated for this final farewell to Xanatos, called the abrupt end of the ritualised beating. Almost like a spell that had been cast over the boy had been suddenly broken, Xanatos slumped to his hands and knees, spitting blood onto the ground.

Gang members almost tripped over each other in their rush to escape the warehouse to their motorcycles parked in to forested area behind. Jinn stalked over to Xanatos and offered his hand to help the boy up. Xanatos waived the hand away and looked up at him and his broken and bleeding lips pulled back from his teeth in a smile of triumph.

He felt sickened at what he had to do to the boy and wished there was some way he could wipe away the damage. But it had been Xanatos’ choice and no amount of wishing could change that now. "Well, lad, I hope you still find the price worth it," he whispered, "Good bye, Xan, I will miss you."

"I will miss you too, but now I am free."

He looked down at the bloodied face one last time and flushed with embarrassment. What the boy had said was true. Jinn smiled down at him, turned and rushed to the platform where Yoda was still waiting for him.

Yoda was leaning over and saying something to Mace. When he saw Jinn approaching he gestured Mace and grabbed his cane and hobbled to the edge of the platform. He helped him clamber down and half supported the hobbling old man as they started to make their escape.

It was at that point he noticed that Mace was not with them. He turned around and saw Mace heading toward Xanatos with the thin club with the ball on one end, the weapon that earned him his nickname, in his hand. Before he could call out or even start back toward them Mace swung the club around in a high arc and it contacted with Xanatos face.

He did not need to see the blood nor the bone shards spray out from Xanatos' head to know. The boy was dead before he fell completely to the ground. He cried out and let go of Yoda and started back toward the fallen form, his heart beating wildly in his chest. "Jinn, away we must go. Now!" Yoda’s tone left no room for argument.

Jinn bit back the words and grief and continued to head to his motorcycle gang, his heart constricting tightly in his chest and his stomach in turmoil, but his face a mask of emotionless passivity. They could never see his weakness.

 

CH 02

Working evenings suited Ben Kenobi just fine. If he could work only when the library was closed altogether that would even be better but seeing as that was just next door to impossible he really didn't mind the quiet evenings. As he pushed the cart laden with books down the narrow aisles in the stacks, pausing every once in a while to reshelve a book into its proper place, he would dread that he may perhaps run into someone who was still there reading. Maybe someone using one of the multiple instructional language audiocassettes boning up on some foreign tongue enough to "get by" when they depart on their latest holiday. Perhaps there would be a student from the high school frantically researching for a paper due the next day. He dreaded running into any of these possibilities, because that person would ultimately feel the need to try and converse with him.

Tonight, luck was not on his side. "Hi, Ben!" the chirpy voice came from behind him causing him to whirl around and back into his cart.

"Oh…um… h-hi," he answered as he took another step back from the young woman whom he decided was still uncomfortably in his personal space.

"So, how have you been recently?" she asked him earnestly. He had always been a shy man and though in the beginning many young women had found him incredibly attractive and tried to garner his attention, Ben would ultimately hurry on by them hoping to feign never even having noticed them, so eventually they had given up. For the most part.

"Ummmm…" he paused, shifting uncomfortably. He ran a hand over his close-cropped
hair, breaking eye contact and staring resolutely at a
spot on the ceiling. "G-good, good."

Ben felt a flush creeping into his face, so he shifted his focus to the ground just in front of the woman’s shoes. He removed his glasses to clean them on the end of his tie.

When it became apparent that he would make no further effort to continue the conversation the young woman finally ventured," Oh, well that’s…nice. It’s been good talking to you."

Assuming that would be the end of the conversation, Ben put the wire-rim glasses back on his face and adjusted them unnecessarily and started to turn around to face his cart again.

"Oh, Ben," she continued.

Ben felt himself flinch slightly, "Yes?"

"Could you show me where you keep Martha Stewart's Guide to Feng Shui?"

Ben hurriedly started pushing the cart up the remainder of the aisle and without turning around said softly, "Oh… well we don’t have that particular book… b-but y-you can find others like it two rows over, m-middle shelf."

When he rounded the corner into the next empty aisle, he breathed a sigh of relief.

After years of working as the assistant librarian and keeping the odd hours he did, he had managed to limit his social contact to the point where he could safely get through almost an entire week without having to converse with another human being. This had earned him the reputation in the town as being a somewhat eccentric recluse and the rumours spawned up from there.

Some people would say that truth was due to some tragic accident he couldn't talk and was doomed to live out his days in silence. Other would say that he was just a snob kid from an ivy league school who would not stoop so low as to engage in idle chit chat with the local folk. Others would point to a darker past where his presence in the town was to be kept a secret at all costs. Ben would eventually hear the whispering behind his back and just smile to himself and think "Gossipy bunch of busybodies. And you wonder why I like to keep me to me..."

Soon the evening's cataloguing was done and Ben went back into the stacks. Ben chose one of his favourite books of all time, Tristan and Iseult, and then went to his office to read. He still could not admit he would always go in there to hide. But why couldn't real people be more like the characters in his books? In there, the good guys were always good, the princesses were always virtuous and in the end the bad guy was always brought to justice. Ben sighed and began... chapter one...

 

"But you didn't have to kill him, Mace, it was as senseless as it was cruel... and you know it" Jinn spat out at the brawny dark skinned man.

"You know by now, Jinn, that once you align yourself with the Jedi you can't just leave. This isn't a democracy! With what he knew he could have us all skewered and then where would we be?" Mace pulled himself up as tall as he could make himself in order that his opponent could not cowe him with just sheer size. Jinn was an intimidating man when he wanted to be. With his long brown hair now touched so slightly with the silver that belied his age and the beard lined jaw, it had been hard for any witness to be sure of what he truly looked like. The worn leather jacket hid the solid musculature of his mostly tattooed torso and his hands were large and rough from years of fighting and hard labour.

He was menacing looking all right, but Mace knew him better. He saw the gentleness in Jinn's eyes that let him know that every time he was made to fight for the honour of the gang a little part of him died on the inside. Mace knew he was only there because of the loyalty he owed him for getting him out of being sent to prison in his own country. He knew all of Jinn's little secrets and used them to his advantage when he was on one of his righteous crusades and might actually put action behind his harsh words.

"Jinn, get hold of yourself. Xanatos was just another street rat. No one is going to miss him at all. I mean I know YOU had your eye on him..."

"Take that back, Mace, before you go far enough to regret it"

"It's no secret to me. Did you imagine that pretty face telling a tired old beast as yourself that he loved you? Wanted to be with you? Admit it... it killed you when he found himself a piece of tail and wanted out... you're just angry cuz you LIKED putting the beating on him... punishing him for not loving you..."

"Stop it, Mace"

"You're just angry that I had the guts to do what you didn't..."

Jinn pulled his fist back and snarled with rage at his accuser. But as quickly as the rage had filled him he took a deep breath and let it go. He had promised himself a long time ago he would never strike anyone in anger. No matter what they made him do, it would be without thought of malice, hate or anger. They may control his actions, but he owned his soul and would never let himself be reduced to the beast they saw him as. He unclenched his fist and let his arm drop down to his side useless.

Mace realized that once again he had won the match of intimidation and a smile alighted on his face as he threw his arm around his comrade, "You really are something else. How about you and me go to a bar and drink to forget tonight..."

Jinn nodded mutely and started out the door with Mace. While Mace knew of his sexual preferences and kept his secret, he did not understand. Jinn did love Xan, that much was true; but it was more the love of a father to son or a teacher for his favourite pupil. It had never been lust, but it was working to His advantage in this case if Mace thought it was. If Mace believed that the feeling were only of a base sexual nature, he would not know that what had just happened to Xanatos was ripping Jinn apart.

Just as Mace and he were about to reach the door, it flew open and Plo rushed in "Yoda says saddle up. The law is on the warpath and we're takin' off to lay low out of town until it blows over!"

Jinn sighed and headed to Yoda's room to collect the old man. When he arrived, Yoda was ready to leave already. There would be no room for argument.

"Yoda, I was just thinking..."

"Leave the thinking to someone more accustomed to it you will. Made for muscle you are, not for thought" came the sharp reply. He helped the old man hobble out to the bike and got the old troll settled in the sidecar. He threw one leg over the bike and straddled the seat. One thrust to the kick-start and the bike roared to life.

This was the only part that Jinn actually liked. The ride. On the large and thunderous bike he could lose himself, focus and just feel. At times like this, he forgot who he was and where he was and just let the bike take him where it will. A sharp rap to the shin with a cane brought him out of his reverie as Yoda pointed frantically with the cane in the direction of the freeway. So it would be a long trip. Good. It would give him time to compose and reflect.

The miles slipped by to Jinn as if they were nothing. The steady vibration of the bike and the constant roar of the engine had lulled him into the place within his mind all his own.

After they had been riding for a long time, Yoda signalled to him to take the next exit. They started down a much smaller road. The sides of the road were lined with unbroken lines of trees. There seemed to be no sign of towns along this particular stretch of road, but on the horizon Jinn saw they were approaching what appeared to be some sort of building. Yoda pointed at the building with his cane and to indicate to the large man that that’s where they were heading. As they approached it, Jinn saw that it was an abandoned motel.

"Well, so be it," he thought and pulled into the run down parking lot and pulled to a stop, "Home sweet home." He thought sarcastically.

CH03

Fairly soon, after their arrival, the gang had settled into their new surroundings. First, they stashed their bikes in the dense forest on the side of the motel furthest from the road so passing motorists would not spot them. After they had each taken one of the closed up, musty smelling, rooms for themselves and soon after settled into their own routines.

First things first, Jinn removed the sidecar from his bike. He and Mace were in charge of scouting out any small towns around the area of the motel in order to collect the supplies they would need and he wanted to remove any apparent distinguishing features on his bike.

Yoda trusted them to this because they were the most careful of all of the gang. They would stagger their visits to different stores in different towns so they would not become too easily recognisable to the locals or they would be easily dismissed as transients passing through.

Yoda was not allowing the rest of the gang to roam too far from the hideout, especially at night. He did not want the gang to be tempted to start frequenting any of the bars and making their faces known. Or worse, starting fights and drawing the attention of the local authorities. A low profile was absolutely necessary at this point.

It was the evenings that were almost unbearable to Jinn. With the whole gang confined into such close proximity, he was not able to find the privacy he wanted in order to finally grieve for Xanatos. He just kept ruthlessly tamping down the feelings that threatened to surface every time he heard the boy’s name mentioned, even in passing. He found he could no longer tolerate the company of the people that he had at one point considered a sort of loose brethren to him and therefore spent most evenings in his room playing cards and drinking beer with Mace.

"HA! Gin, Jinn," Mace smiled as he triumphantly slapped his hand of cards down on the table.

"Yeah, you got me," Jinn half smiled back at Mace. He folded his cards into a neat pile, placed them face first down on the table and folded his hands one over the other beneath his chin propping his elbows on the table.

Mace grabbed the deck and started to reshuffle the cards, "What’s going on?" he asked lifting his eyes to meet Jinn’s.

:"Hm? Oh, nothing," Jinn replied calmly.

"You look about a million miles away. You surely can’t be tired of this game already; I’ve only kicked your ass once so far." Mace said

Jinn chuckled a bit and said, "There’s nothing wrong, really. Now keep the comments to yourself and just deal the cards."

Mace laughed and dealt out another hand. He won the round quickly and without effort. He dealt again and again the round was his in a matter of minutes. After about an hour of this Mace finally did not even reach for the cards when Jinn conceded defeat.

"Okay, now I know there’s something up. Usually you at least put in a good showing at this. You got something going on in there, I know it."

"Mace, can’t I even have one off night without you assuming there is something behind it?"

"Oh let’s see…no. Out of all the years we’ve played cards against each other I could’ve counted on one hand the number of times I won a hand. Tonight I’ve won every single round. So either in one day I have managed to get a lot better at this game, or you are not trying. And I like the odds on the second," Mace replied and took another swig out of his beer.

"I am just beginning to feel a little enclosed here, you know what I mean? It’s like living in a prison. I guess I am just suffering from cabin fever," Jinn finally replied, gesturing absently with one hand.

All of a sudden Mace’s eyes widened and his smile broadened, "I think I know EXACTLY what you mean… you’re itchin’ to go out and get some."

"Well, no that’s not exactly what I meant," Jinn started smile.

"Well, sure it is. I mean it’s something I can understand. Most guys out here either have their old ladies with them, like me, or they are too stoned or drunk to care. You don’t do drugs as far as I can tell and you don’t really drink either. Given your… well… preferences, you can’t possibly bring an old lady along with you. Trust me I totally get it."

Jinn was about to correct him again, when Mace unwittingly stumbled onto a plan that would suit Jinn just fine, "You know. I was in your boat last time we were here laying low. Well not exactly your boat, but you catch my drift. Anyway, there is a way you can sneak out of here being undetected by Yoda. When we get in tomorrow afternoon, leave your bike in the undergrowth at the end of the motel near the road. Yoda won’t check. After we have reported in to him and everything is squared up, go get your bike and wheel it far enough you think it’ll be out of earshot, then fire her up. There is a town Yoda knows nothing about. It’s bigger than the rest, but further away. Like, maybe two miles from here. You could go there and find someone who can help you. I’ll come in here like usual and after a while leave and tell people you passed out drunk or something."

Jinn thought it over and decided he liked the idea. Getting away for a while where he could be by himself was just what he did need, so he agreed to go along with Mace’s plan.

The next day when they rode back in to the motel parking lot, Jinn covered his bike right where Mace had told him. He and Mace reported in to Yoda, gave him a full account of their whereabouts and dropped off the supplies that had been requested by various members of the gang.

Jinn waited until dusk before putting the plan into action. When Jinn had made sure no one was watching him, slipped around the end of the motel and retrieved his bike.

He pushed the heavy machine up the road quite a distance. Probably a little further than necessary he thought, grimly, but he would not take the chance of being discovered. He then climbed on and kick started the engine.

Following the instructions Mace had given him the previous evening; he soon found himself what he assumed to be the town Mace had described. Now while this town was larger than the others in the area, it was by no means a bustling metropolis and Jinn began to doubt the wisdom that brought him here.

He travelled down what appeared to be the main street of the, what could only be described as cosy, town. The whole place seemed to be festooned with autumn garlands and Halloween decorations. Neat and proper Victorian styled stores (with large festive salutations in their windows) lined unmarred sidewalks. Well-appointed street lamps, styled to look like old gas-lamps, dotted the edges of the pavement. The boulevard in the road was filled with autumn flowering plants and neatly edged trees enclosed a riverside park.

"I have died and gone to Dickens' Village," Jinn whistled lowly to himself, "What the hell was Mace thinking? Oh well, I am here now."

In order to not cause any more stir than absolutely necessary, Jinn road his bike down behind the park and wheeled it into a copse of trees. He removed his crash helmet and on quick inspection of his appearance in the rear view mirror of his bike, decided to remove his jacket and bandana as well. He pulled his hair back into a half tail and decided that would be about the best he could so to not cause too much unwanted attention to come his way.

Jinn walked into the park

CH 04

The autumn evening was cool and while by no means cold, brisk enough that a lugubrious mist was starting to form over the slow moving river and roll over the bank into the edge of the park. The trees had already started to change into their autumn colours, but seemed not to dare drop a single leaf onto the well-manicured lawn.

Jinn pulled the collar of his flannel shirt up slightly and tucked his hands into the pockets of his worn jeans and began to doubt the wisdom of leaving his jacket back with his bike. "Ah, it’s only just bracing," he told himself, "You’ve endured worse and that’s for sure."

The silence of the park was only broken by the sound of Jinn’s own footfalls as he walked onto a paved path and went forward aimlessly. Lamps, much like the ones that lined the streets of the town, were placed at regular intervals alongside the path to bravely defend any passers-by from the darkness. Jinn noted though the park seemed not to contain another living soul as far as he could see.

As he passed by a cannon mounted on a concrete slab, he decided that this might be as good a place as any to sit for a while. He would be pretty much guaranteed to not be disturbed there. So he took a seat on the concrete, in the shadow cast by the cannon under the lamps.

Jinn tipped his head back to look up into the sky. The moon was peeking her full face from behind a light cloud cover and the stars, like so many diamonds, seemed to dance and twinkle in their endless trip though the heavens.

He remembered looking up into a sky very much like this one when he had been a very young boy and the parish priest telling him, "Ah Quentin, lad, those stars a certainly lovely tonight. Did you know they are the windows in heaven? Aye, ‘tis true. The angels use them to watch over us all while we sleep."

Jinn, of course, now knew better but as he looked up into the sky he could have sworn that he did see a star he had never seen before. The black ink of the sky and the silver of the moon reminded his so much of Xanatos his heart started to ache. All the beauty of night sky had been captured in that boy and now it only seemed fitting that he should be a part of it. Would he watch with kindness on Jinn, though?

"That wasn’t it the way I would have had it end, you know it," he thought furiously at the night. Still the stars gave no indication of hearing him.

The happy barking of a dog suddenly shattered the silence of the night. Jinn froze and tried to pull further into the shadow. Almost instantly he saw the dog round the corner and turn back to look toward something or someone else behind it. It’s strange corkscrew curled tail whipped around in a frenzied circle as it watched and panted. It then tipped its long muzzle into the air and Jinn could hear the audible sniffing. The dog turned and looked directly at Jinn and lowered its head slightly and let out a warning "Woof" in his direction.

Jinn slowly started to come out of the shadow, not positive the dog was friendly but definitely wanting to be already standing if it decided to give chase. By the collar and the slightly portly build of the dog, he did manage to ascertain that this was definitely someone’s pet. Perhaps when the owner caught up they would be kind enough to call their dog off if Jinn could prove he posed no threat.

That thought was quickly erased as the dog started to approach him. Its head was cocked to one side and it’s hackles were not raised so Jinn relaxed slightly. It walked all the way up to him and then shoved its nose directly into his crotch.

Jinn was not sure what to do. He certainly did not want to make any sudden move and startle the animal, as that was definitely a place he did not want to get bitten. So he stood there while the dog finished its inspection.

"Hey, Tavi! What didja find, girl? You’re leaving the squirrels alone I hope," the laughing voice of a young man preceded its owner in coming around the bend in the path.

Jinn went to say something to the young man, but his voice died in his throat. Jinn had seen many attractive men in his life, but this young man was truly beautiful.

His tawny hair was reflected in the lamplight and large eyes, which smallish wire rimmed glasses obscured the colour of, stared at him unblinking. Unlike some young men, he was not all angles, but rather had a soft and curved jaw line that gave him an almost feminine quality. The creamy skin of his face was dotted with two small but noticeable moles, but otherwise was smooth and flawless. It looked as if all the colours of a sunny autumn day had been used to paint him.

He was medium in height, slender in build and long fingered, elegant hands hung limply down by his sides. The suit pants and dress shirt, which peeked out slightly from under the brown bomber jacket, told Jinn immediately that this young man was a professional of some sort.

"I seem to have found your dog, my young friend," Jinn said in his most placating voice, when he found it.

Ben’s heart was beating wildly in his chest. He had taken the dogs out into the park at this time every night for years and never run into anyone else. Now he was faced with this tall and dangerous looking stranger.

"Now what? Do I just back away? What if he follows? Maybe he doesn’t mean any harm. Maybe he’s a vagrant, was sleeping under the cannon and upset Tavi woke him. Or maybe he’s a thief and he’s going to mug me," Ben’s panicked mind raced, "He’s got Tavi… Oh where’s Nanuk already?"

Benn took an unconscious step backward, not daring to take his eyes off the stranger. "Don’t worry. I mean you no harm," the stranger said as he took a step toward Ben. The fight or flight reflex then kicked in and Ben started to back up quickly. Suddenly his whole world seemed to go on end as the backs of his knees connected with the side of the errant Nanuk, who had decided to return at that moment and help his master out by standing firmly behind him making his strange "ooooooo" growl. He fell over backward and his breath left him in a rush as his back connected solidly with the paved path, his glasses getting knocked off and landing beside him.

Nanuk yelped slightly and scurried out from behind him with his tail tucked between his legs. Ben then heard a low and muffled chuckling coming from the stranger. Incredibly the stranger was now walking toward Ben with one hand outstretched, "Here, let me…"

Ben crab walked backward as fast as he could move in that awkward position, "P-please… d-don’t hurt me!"

The stranger stopped and Ben got to his feet. "H-here… t-take whatever y-you want. D-don’t c-come any c-closer though!" he said as he took out his wallet and practically threw it at the stranger as he turned and fled back up the path.

Tavi turned and looked at Jinn, let out a long suffering sigh and followed after her master.

Ben did not stop running until he got to his house. He threw open the front door and, once he and the two dogs were inside, he shut it again and locked it. Ben rested his head against the back of the door, panting. He would certainly not be able to sleep tonight.

Jinn stood staring into the empty path where the young man had retreated. He should have been annoyed about the immediate conclusion the youth had jumped to, but Jin knew he was no angel. Under different circumstances he may have decided to liberate the young man of a few personal belongings. "No," Jinn thought shaking his head ruefully. Truth was he couldn’t have hurt or violated in any way anyone that startlingly beautiful.

Jinn retrieved that wallet and glasses from the ground and tucked them into his shirt pocket and went to get his bike.

When Jinn was safely back in his room, he finally allowed himself to open the wallet and look in. "Only to find the identification of the owner so I can return it, " he told himself.

Jinn pulled out a driver’s liscence, "So, Ben Kenobi, what can you tell me about yourself? Where can I find you? Going to your home would be out of the question. Where do you work?"

Then Jinn found what he was looking for. He pulled out a small white identification card with the words "Thames Valley East Library Association" on it.

 

CH 05

The main branch of the Thames Valley East libraries was larger than one would expect for a small town. It was a boxy red-bricked building on a rough-hewn grey stone base with large rectangular windows sectioned off into many small squares. Along the top of the building and just under the eve’s trough, a long, thin piece of concrete was sunk into the wall. On it were carved the words Public Library.

Inside, the atmosphere was quiet and inviting. A large, dark wooden staircase dominated the centre of the room and lead to the upper level. Behind the staircase, row after orderly row of shelves were visible. To the left of the stairs was a long wooden table surrounded by several heavyset chairs with green upholstery. To the left was the librarian’s desk and office.

The desk itself was plain, solid and made out of a warm honey coloured wood. Whereas the rest of the room was primarily lit with banks of humming fluorescent lights, the desk was under several suspended lamps with green glass shades.

Ben sat on a stool behind the desk, holding a piece of yellow paper up at eye level. He slowly drew the paper out so that it was at arms length from his face, frowned and then drew it in so it was almost touching the tip of his nose. He tilted the paper slightly askew and then squinted his eyes almost shut. It was no use; he could not make out what was written on the sheet before him.

"I guess I will have to make an appointment and get a new set of glasses," sighed Ben inwardly. There hardly seemed to be any point of him even trying to get to the cataloguing that night even if he’d have to listen to Mrs Flynn, the head librarian, complain for the next week about having to do it. "What, with my bunions and bursitis and all, I can’t be expected to do all the work around here, young man…" he could almost hear her.

Ben hopped of the stool and walked back into the office and sat heavily in the desk chair. It would be at least an hour before he could close the doors for the evening (he ascertained by squinting harshly at the wall clock mounted in the office and willing the numbers to come into focus) and without his glasses, it would be a long evening since he would not even be able to spend the quiet time reading. For the first time he could remember, Ben wished that there were people in the library so he could spend the evening checking books out in order to pass the time. At the very least he could still work a rubber stamper in his blurry world.

The sound of the front desk bell made Ben jump slightly. Ben hesitated for a moment, reluctant to get up. "I take it back… I take it back…" he thought. Now that the occasion had arisen, Ben found he was not as eager to face people in his current state of blindness as he had thought. Ben finally got up and peered out the door of the office. But there was no shape of a person at his counter at all. Blurred or otherwise. Ben laughed slightly to himself "Well, either your imagination has got the better of you or else you are being haunted!"

No sooner had Ben turned around when the bell rang again. Ben wheeled around on his heel and saw the blurred shape of a large person standing at the counter.

"H-h-hello?" he called to the figure.

"Ah! There you are young man. I do believe we have some unfinished business," a deep and lilting voice said to Ben.

"W-we do?" stammered out Ben

"Yes, come here. I have something that belongs to you!"

Ben approached the desk cautiously. He was sure he had heard the voice before. "Surely it can’t be the thief!" he thought.

"Come here, my young friend, I promise I won’t bite!" the voice said with the mild tone of a chuckle in it, "Put out your hand"

Ben stepped forward and put his hand out. He felt mildly silly doing this as it had been a while since he had played "hold out your hand and get a big surprise" at least since he was about 5 and his favourite uncle would pass him extra treats this way.

Ben felt something light and wiry fall into his open palm and recognised it for what it was immediately. "Oh, th-thank you! You have no idea how much I needed these!" he said as he opened the glasses and put them on. Ben was smiling despite himself as he looked up at his benefactor and the smile froze on his face.

""Y-you!" he said backing into the wall behind him.

"Now, now s that any way to talk to someone who has gone through a bit of difficulty and some travelling to return your belongings?"

"Y-you took them!" Ben said.

"I didn’t! If you remember you threw them at me and I never made one move to take them. I could have kept them, but I didn’t" the even voice of the stranger said with some reproach.

Ben looked on silently as the stranger withdrew his wallet from a pocket and dropped it onto the desk, "I think you will find everything is in order."

Jinn looked at Ben as the young man stared at him agog. Jinn could not help but notice that even under the harsh indoor lights that he was a lovely creature.

Jinn knew he should have backed out of the library at that moment and beat a hasty retreat but he could not help but stare back at Ben. He was like a moth trapped by this being that seemed to be made of light. More than ever he wanted to somehow connect with him.

"I-is there anything else?" Ben said to him. Jinn scanned the desk before him in an attempt to find something, anything he could use to engage the young man in a conversation. Then his eyes alighted on a book tucked away on the side of the desk.

"Yes, I want to check out that book!" Jinn had to admit that he panicked as he pointed to the book sitting on the desk.

Ben walked forward, adjusted his glasses and looked at the spine of the book. "O-oh this? You d-don’t want this…" Ben started as Jinn snatched the book from his grasp.

"No, no this is precisely the type of thing I was looking for!" said Jinn brightly and hoping his voice did not shake as he brushed Ben’s hand in the process of retrieving the book.

Ben could only stare at the stranger as he held his beloved Tristan and Iseult. He really looked at the face of the stranger. Though the man before him was imposing in stature, Ben was fixated on his eyes. There was something about them that was comforting and gentle, like a long forgotten memory. Ben stood looking into the eyes of the stranger before him and felt as if he felt as if he were seeing the man for the first time. Jinn turned started to leave. Ben found himself desperate to look at those eyes once more and gathered all his courage and called after him "I am quite p-positive that’s not the b-book you were looking for!"

"Oh? And why not?" Jinn turned and said to Ben as he turned back, his voice hinting at a mild humour, "Perhaps you think someone like me would not be interested in this sort of literature? Perhaps you think that its intricacies would be lost? Really, my young friend, I was thinking there was more to you than such a small town, narrow-minded opinion of someone you have never really met! This is the second time you have jumped to a snap conclusion about me. First, you assumed that I was in the park in order to thieve your personal belongings and now you assume that I would not be interested in such a simple tale. I would expect so much more from someone of your education. I had not such an advantage, but I did learn in my experience that you cannot always judge a book by its cover. You of all people should know that!"

Ben turned and walked back into the office, his ears stained a furious scarlet. His heart was beating madly as it had been when he had first met this stranger. This time, it was a combination of fear and of anger. How dare this unkempt stranger accuse him of being no better than the rest of the people in this town! Underlying it all there was a new emotion that Ben could not pinpoint.

When Ben ventured back out to the desk he saw a folded piece of paper on the rim. When he unfolded it he felt his heart catch. It was a note that read "Ben, I apologize if I struck a nerve at our last meeting. When I return this book I look forward to giving you the chance to redeem yourself. Quentin."

CH 06

Ben had not slept well the night after Jinn had left the note in the library. He had been shocked and angry when he got home. "How dare he…" he thought furiously. "Well I… It was late and LOOK at him… How was I supposed to know what he wanted?" Ben had tossed and turned all night. Every time he shut his eyes, he could almost imagine Quentin’s face in front of him, mocking him and telling him he was a small-minded fool. But, as soon as that apparition had appeared, another one took over. The Quentin he had seen in the library. The eyes of the mocking man changed into the sad and gentle eyes he remembered.

He had finally managed to get a few hours as the sun started to rise and warm orange light peeked through his bedroom window. Of course after he did get to sleep, he then overslept and had to rush to get himself together and get out the door in time (while trying also to feed, bathroom and play with the dogs who were looking very confused at their master’s odd behaviour). When he arrived at the library in the early afternoon to receive his instructions for the evening from Mrs Flynn and start his shift, he looked all the worse for wear. His usually neat appearance was somewhat rumpled, his face unshaven and dark rings marred the delicate skin under his eyes.

"Bloody hell, dear. If I didn’t know you better I would say you were out all night last night!" said the soft and kind voice of the Mrs Flynn, the head librarian.

Ben smiled slightly at the older woman. She had a kind, round face and a quiet demeanour about her that had appealed to Ben immediately, "You kn-know me M-Mrs Flynn, always the w-wild one!"

Mrs Flynn’s eyes sparkled mischievously at the young man but she thought better of teasing him too harshly, she did not want to get treated to the absolute silence that had predominated their early relationship. "Do you feel okay, dear?" she asked. " If your not, then you should go home and I can cover your shift tonight. But what with the bursitis acting up again…"

"Oh, yes. I just… I mean…. Trouble sleeping. I can work." Ben replied hastily.

Mrs Flynn asked him catalogue the new arrivals (which would mean another evening of wrangling those horrible little cards into a typewrite and wishing that Mrs Flynn would let him set up a computer database for the books) and shelve the books including the ones he seemed to have missed the night before. She put on her jacket, tied a scarf around her head and over her ears and was just about to leave when she turned to Ben and said," Oh yes, one more thing, dear. A gentleman was here to see you. Tall with long hair and a beard. Said to tell you he would not be in to see you tonight because of some business he had to attend to. Didn’t much like the look of him, mind…"

"Old friend of the family’s," Ben blurted out before he could help himself, "He’s….uh…in a town nearby on business." His voice ended on an undignified squeak.

"Oh, what sort of business? If you don’t mind me asking?" Mrs Flynn was now eyeing him curiously.

"H-he’s a …. Um… A d-dentist!" Ben stammered out.

"A dentist? Well you certainly wouldn’t be able to tell by looking at him… but I guess there’s just no telling sometimes. Good afternoon, Ben," she said as she turned and left.

"G-good afternoon, M-Mrs F-Flynn" replied Ben, his face a furious shade of red. He hated lying more than anything and never dreamed he would to Mrs Flynn, so why had he felt it necessary just then?

Ben went about his routine that night and good to his word, Jinn did not return. He found himself kind of disappointed that he didn’t. He had resolved (at around 6 am) that he would actually like the opportunity to prove that he was anything but ignorant and he hoped his resolve to talk with Jinn would stick with him.

Each day Ben would go into work half hoping and half dreading that Jinn would return or send word about his absence. Each day Ben would go home again disappointed. He was beginning to get a sinking feeling he would never see Jinn again. "Why does it matter to me so much?" he thought bitterly, but still the anticipation continued, until Ben abandoned all hope of seeing him again. "I wish he would come back just once," he thought, to which he hastily added, "So I can get my book back!"

The evening of the first snowfall, ushering in the undeniable truth that autumn was just about at an end and winter was most definitely on the horizon, was just the same as every other evening to Ben. He had long ago ceased to see the wonder and beauty of that first evening snow with the large, wet, white flakes dancing in chiaroscuros in the eddies in the wind against a sky painted in indigo and magenta, all he saw in it was a walk he would soon have to shovel.

He was at the front desk hunched over the library’s archaic typewriter trying to centre yet another of those damnable little cards and his patience was starting to lose the war against the infernal machine. Ben was so intent on the task at hand he did not hear the soft chime at the front door of the building.

Ben’s tongue was poking out the side of his mouth as he gazed intently at his nemesis. He tentatively punched a key on the typewriter and looked at the resulting letter… It was too low. "Bloody piece of crap machinery! Why does she not just get me a computer already?" Ben muttered to himself as he reached to yank the card out from the typewriter.

"Temper, temper" came the low and teasing voice.

Ben shot straight back from the stool he was sitting on at the desk, and in his effort upending the stool. His ass slammed into the hardwood floor and his head with the wall behind him. His feet however clung stubbornly to the stool rungs around which they had been curled.

"Are you all right?" Jinn called down to him, his eyes filled with a mixture of humour and concern.

"I-I th-think so" Ben said as he rubbed at the goose egg forming on the back of his head.

Jinn hopped over the counter and helped Ben extricate his legs from the rungs, watched as he then felt his shins for any damage and helped Ben to his feet. "A bit of an excitable lad, aren’t you? Or do you just like to show off your feats of tumbling acrobatics whenever I am around?" Jinn chided.

"I-it’s n-not my f-fault! Th-the few t-times w-we have m-met, y-you have sn-snuck up on m-me!" Ben replied with hot indignation.

"Really? And here I thought either you were just swept up by my natural charm and magnetism, or else really clumsy." Jinn laughed as he started to brush off Ben’s shoulders. Something in that touch suddenly sent what felt like a mild electric current through Ben’s body and he backed away from Jinn in an instant.

Jinn made no further attempt to try and reach out again, but instead reached back to the counter and picked up the book he had placed on it before trying to get Ben’s attention, "Here, I have brought you back your book!"

Ben looked at the book, smiled and took it from Jinn’s hand. He looked at the book for a long time and said nothing else. When it became apparent that contact had once again been cut-off, Jinn thought, "Bugger this!" turned and started to head toward the front of the library. He had almost reached the door when a voice called softly from behind him, "H-how did you l-like it?"

Jinn smiled to himself and turned to face Ben, "Oh, I thought it was marvellous. But then I thought it was marvellous the first time I read it."

Ben looked at Jinn in what he hoped was an interested way and not how he felt, which was total disbelief. He summoned all his courage again and said, "Oh, you h-had read it b-before?"

Jinn chuckled, "Oh yes, many years ago. It was required reading even back when I was at university you know."

"Y-you went to… What u-univers-sity did you go t-to?" Ben caught his mistake he hoped before Jinn would catch it and his attempt to prove Jinn wrong would be ended right there.

"University College, Dublin. Never graduated, but I started in the English lit course there. Always fancied myself one day to be some sort of teacher." When Jinn got to the end of the sentence his voice had trailed off.

"So, y-you like Tr-Tristan and Iseult then, which is g-good," Ben ventured, changing the subject, "M-may I m-make a suggestion t-to another book th-then?"

"Of course, my young friend," Jinn said as he walked back to the counter.

"H-have you r-read M-Madame Bovary?" Ben asked hoping that his voice remained somewhat steady because his body was starting to tremble. There was something about being held in that azure gaze that made him feel like he was something being studied under a microscope or worse yet, totally naked.

"No, I can’t say I ever read that one," Jinn said thoughtfully.

"Oh w-well it’s a g-good read if y-you like th-that sort of thing," Ben said as he broke eye contact with Jinn and looked resolutely at a nondescript spot on the desk in front of him.

"Are you also keeping it on the desk or were you planning on telling me where it was?" Jinn chided softly.

"O-oh, yes," Ben said as he snapped suddenly out of wherever he had travelled, "I-I have s-some shelving to d-do. I-I can sh-show you, I-if you like"

Jinn smiled and waited for Ben to come round the counter. Ben pushed the book cart toward the stacks and Jinn followed him a small distance behind, enjoying the view immensely. He had to admit Ben was a fine figure of a young man. Slender, but not overly so. How he hated the new too-thin look young men were trying to achieve where they managed to starve themselves out of certain… regions of which Jinn was
certainly enjoying the view. Ben looked healthy and slightly muscled. "Probably from pushing that cart around all the time," he thought.

He was so enrapt in the shapely behind in front of him he was having a hard time keeping up with the conversation Ben was very valiantly still upholding. When Jinn referred to Nietzsche’s "Beyond Good and Evil" as "a load of self indulgent tripe I wouldn’t line a bird cage with," he was caught off guard when he heard a clear alto laugh and realised that it was coming from Ben. Jinn decided immediately he really liked the young man’s laugh almost more than anything and it sounded like it hadn’t been used in a while.

Ben could not stifle the laugh before it started. He couldn’t help himself; the comment had been so unexpected. Embarrassed by his lapse, Ben regained control as soon as he could. Soon he stopped part way down one of the aisles in the stacks and reached up for Madame Bovary and turned to Jinn. "H-here it is," Ben said, handing the book to Jinn (who for some reason had a rather sheepish look on his face). When Jinn’s hand brushed Ben’s when he took the book that familiar electric current hit Ben again. He backed away and hurried out of the stacks.

Soon Jinn walked out of the stacks also and spied Ben back behind the desk. Jinn was about to walk right on by, figuring he had out-stayed his welcome, when he heard Ben say, "I r-really must i-insist you t-take the book out th-this time."

Jinn smiled and returned to the counter, "I must insist that my name is not entered in any computer database at the moment."

"Oh, w-we’re not th-that sophisticated. It’s all on c-cards," Ben said as he pointed forlornly at the typewriter, "M-Mrs Flynn, th-the head librarian re-refuses to get a computer s-system." He smiled slightly as he shook his head.

Jinn gave him an appraising look and then gave him his personal information. Ben looked surprised, "I th-thought that p-place was abandoned!"

"Not as abandoned as you might think…"

Jinn was just about to the door when with his final bit of courage Ben said, "S-so how d-did I do? Am I r-redeemed yet?"

"You are on the right path," Jinn said enigmatically and pushed the heavy front door open. "We will see how you do next time." With that he walked out into the snowy evening and Ben slumped against the counter, his legs having finally given out on him.

CH 07

The middle of December brought with it dry, crisp sunny days and clear cold nights. Jinn had returned to the public library building almost every evening, ostensibly to return books he had borrowed and take new books out, but of course it was mostly a cover to spend time with Ben. In the few weeks he had spent with Ben he had seen quite a change in the young man. While Ben was still quiet and dreadfully shy, Jinn had noticed the glimmering of what might prove to be a wry sense of humour in his last couple of visits.

Yet there was an underlying sadness to Ben he could not quite put a finger on. While he was a ready enough conversation companion, after the first shaky outings, and seemed well versed in philosophy, literature and world events, his smile would freeze on his face and he would get flustered and quickly change the subject if Jinn inquired about his past. Jinn’s only hint was in the books Ben would say were his all-time favourites: Tristan and Iseult, Madame Bovary, Dangerous Liaisons, La Traviatta and Manon Lescault. All of them were tragic tales of love, deceit and the corruption of youth.

Ben, for his part, was finding the once startling Jinn to be an erudite and charming conversationalist: as likely to quote some obscure religious text to make a point, as he was to use a whitticism from Oscar Wilde to drive that point home. He knew that Jinn was there to see him and this bothered him less and less on each conversation. He found he was usually looking quite forward to seeing Jinn again, which is why it disturbed him quite a bit when Jinn hadn’t shown up for the last week and a bit and had not even left him so much as a note.

Ben lay awake one night staring at his bedroom ceiling. Usually he was a sound sleeper, but tonight it eluded him. Last time it had was also in a period when Quentin had an extended absence and this thought was nagging at him as much as concern for his new friend. His stomach felt as if it had been tied in writhing knots and his mind kept replaying the events of the last month; they were conspiring quite well to keep sleep at bay. He stared at the whorls of the artfully designed ceiling, his eyes tracing the patterns in the plaster again and again as if they held the secret to his rankled state of being.

Ben reached down and started to absent-mindedly stroke at one of Tavi’s ears and the large brindled dog groaned and shifted her head closer to his hand without really waking up at all. She lay on her side, her head pillowed on Ben’s stomach. Her ribcage rose and fell in a slow and steady rhythm. She did not seem to be disturbed by Ben’s current state of wakefulness.

Her partner in crime, Nanuk, looked even less like he was particularly disturbed about anything at all. He was at the end of the bed on his back; his legs splayed out like the Christmas turkey. His upper lip was folded back over itself, exposing some of his sharp teeth. Every once in a while his hind legs would jerk spasmodically upward and he would issue a muffled "woof" as he was off in chase of that night’s dreamscape prey.

The nocturnal activity of his two companions usually did not bother Ben, nor did the fact that they took up the lion’s share of the bed; but then Ben was usually asleep before the two of them had finished whatever dog business was pressing in the rest of the house and decided to join him for the night. The crowding and movement was not helping his sleepless situation, nor was the fact his right leg had long since gone to sleep under the weight of Tavi’s large head. Ben sat up and climbed out of bed (rousing groans of complaint from both dogs, but not actually rousing the dogs).

Ben walked out of his bedroom and into the darkened hallway and down to his kitchen. He turned the small light panel on the underside of his kitchen cabinets and the room filled with a dim, ambient light. He filled a small copper saucepan with milk and put it on the stove to warm up. "Perhaps this will calm me enough to get some sleep," he sighed.

He tried to clear his mind of all the thoughts that were rapid firing through his mind, taking several relaxing deep breaths through his nose. The sound of nails clicking against tile alerted to him to the fact that one of the dogs had wandered into the kitchen. He looked over at Tavi, who was looking at him as if to say, "Why are you up at this hour, silly human?" She turned herself about and with a great huff of air flopped down onto the tile and went back to sleep.

"Come out here to rub it in, did you?" Ben smiled at her. He took the now hot milk off the stove element, turned the stove off and carefully poured it into one of the mugs he had on his counter. He sat down on one of the stools situated at a long counter, which opened into his dining room.

He started to drink the warm beverage and felt some of the tightness ease from his shoulders. In the dim light and secure surroundings, Ben felt himself starting to unwind a little. As he took another sip, he began to formulate in his mind reasons for Quentin’s unexplained absence. The irritable part of his mind started up again. "Why should you be worrying about him at all? It’s not like he really matters in the long run. He’s still almost a complete stranger. He’s a grown man and has business of his own. Did you expect him to hang around forever while you make up your mind about…what?" That was a good question. Why was he so disturbed about Quentin’s disappearance? Before Ben could start pursuing that line of thought again for the umpteenth time that night, a sharp knock at the door startled him. He spilled hot liquid down his chest as Tavi let out a low "woof" of threat.

He waved the front of his pyjama top out in front of him furiously, trying to cool down the scalding liquid. Then the knock at the front door came again a bit more frantic. "W-who is it?" Ben called out softly. The person at the door did not answer. Both dogs were now at the front door, Nanuk issuing his odd sounding growl and Tavi sitting on the floor with her odd looking curly tail thumping rapidly against the carpet. Ben took several hesitant steps toward the door and called again, a little louder, "Wh-who is it?"

A deep voice from the other side of the door said in a harsh whisper, "Ben, it’s me, Quentin, please open the door!"

Ben went to the door and opened it. There stood Quentin looking at him with an odd indiscernible expression, "Can I come in?"

Ben stood back a bit and stammered, "Wh-wha? H-how? Y-you know I l-live here?"

Jinn walked in through the door and quickly closed it again. Nanuk backed away a bit still making the "ooooo" growl but Tavi advanced on Jinn, her tail still wagging.

Ben stood gaping at Jinn, his mouth slowly opening and closing as if he wanted to say something.

Jinn went over to the front room window and using the back of one large hand drew back the drapes ever so slightly and peered out into the darkness. He scanned slowly from left to right and seemed to be anxiously looking for someone or something. Ben noticed there was a limp to his walk and a slight tear in his jeans where there was a distinct bloodstain forming.

"Sorry for the late intrusion. I found your address when I looked at your driver’s licence in order to return your wallet. I hope you don’t mind," he said in a low and hurried voice. "With any luck this invasion of your privacy won’t be long."

Ben stared at him with a mixture of shock, relief and the first flush of a white-hot anger he had not felt in a long time, "How d-dare you!"

"Really, I did say I was sorry and I saw a light on… So I figured that perhaps you were up," Quentin tried his most placating tone on the young man who was now trembling with fury. He could not quite keep the pleading out of his deep-set blue eyes.

"H-have you any i-idea how w-worried I was about you wh-when you didn’t show up in th-the last while a-and not even s-said why?" Ben stammered. "A-and now y-you have the au-audacity to sh-show up here in th-the middle of the n-night after d-doing g-god knows what?"

"I am sorry for the intrusion, Ben," Quentin said to him in a murmur as his face fell slightly, "I can assure you it won’t happen again."

Quentin started toward the door and winced as he put too much pressure on his injured leg. Ben’s anger left him as suddenly as it came when he saw the blood stain start to get larger. "H-here. You’re injured. I-I will get you s-something to bind th-that with at l-least."

Ben went back to his kitchen and fetched the small first aid kit he kept next to the stove. When he returned, Quentin had not made a move at all. They stood and regarded each other uncomfortably for a moment before Ben handed him the first aid kit and said, "B-bathroom is d-down the hall and se-second door on y-your right."

When Quentin returned from binding his wound, Ben was in the kitchen in front of the stove stirring something in a small saucepan. "Thank you for the bandages," he said hopefully, "I guess I will be on my way now. Sorry again for any inconvenience."

"N-nonsense, sit d-down and have s-something to drink. You look ch-chilled to the b-bone."

Not quite trusting the change in Ben’s temperament, Jinn sat cautiously on one of stools. "You really don’t have to, you know. I don’t want to put you out any more than I have."

"Y-you’re hurt and j-judging by your v-vigil at my w-window you’re also in s-some trouble. I-I could not in g-good conscience s-set you out," Ben said as he continued to stir the contents of the saucepan. "C-can I ask wh-what happened?"

Quentin chuckled mirthlessly. "Oh, it’s naught for you to worry about. Just a wee scrape."

"D-does anyone else know wh-where I l-live?" Ben asked, still not looking up.

"No! No, I would not do that," Quentin exclaimed in a tone that told Ben that he was shocked by the very idea.

"G-good, then y-you can stay t-tonight. I h-have sat s-some linens on the ch-chesterfield for you, it folds out." He poured the contents of the saucepan into two mugs and brought them over to the counter.

"Thank you. I don’t know how I will ever repay you."

Quentin looked dubiously at the mug in front when Ben supplied, "Oh, it’s m-my own sleeping r-remedy. Warm m-milk with s-several shots of c-crème de cacao in it!" He smiled as he took a sip.

Quentin laughed and teased, "Do I get a biscuit with it?"

"O-only if y-you are a very g-good boy!" Ben shot back and left the room before Quentin could fully digest what he had said.

Quentin had to admit that the warm beverage with its comforting slightly chocolate smelling steam did make his eyes feel heavy. He finished the drink and searched for the switch to turn off the lights in the kitchen. He then made his way into the front room where he spotted the chesterfield. He was too tired to bother with folding it out into a bed, but took off his jacket, shirt, boots and socks. He lay down and pulled the plump eiderdown over himself. It seemed like two lifetimes ago that he slept in a place that did not smell of mould, stale cigarettes and who knew what else. He was sound asleep almost instantly.

Tavi decided he looked as likely a target as any to leech some body heat from and, when he had settled on his side in the deep set seat, did her best to crawl in beside him next to his legs. She eventually settled to spend the night teetering precariously on the edge.

Back in his bedroom, Ben’s final thought was, "Quentin in my house for the night. I must be going mad!" But before he could settle on another good fret he too had dozed off.

 

CH08

Ben woke the next morning with the mid morning sun streaming cheerfully in through his bedroom window. He groaned and burrowed further under the blanket. His neck and shoulders were stiff and his head felt like someone had spent the better part of the night beating it with a heavy plank. His sleep had most certainly not been a restful one.

Ben was dozing off again when he started to think about the night before and suddenly he sat bolt upright, his heart racing. Had he imagined it or dreamt it, or did it all actually happen? Had Quentin shown up at his door in the middle of the night and was he now sleeping in his front room? "Oh, Ben," he thought.

There was only one way he was going to find out for sure, so he sighed and reached over to his nightstand for his glasses and put them on. He saw the mug sitting next to his bed and his stomach lurched a little. It was looking less like a dream. He put on a thick tartan housecoat and started to creep down the hallway. Nanuk, having noticed his master had vacated the bed, padded along happily next to him.

Ben slowly and quietly made his way into the front room and gave a small gasp. It had not been a dream at all. There on the chesterfield was a large lump under a thick white eiderdown that he was going to assume was Quentin. His back was to Ben and his long silver brown hair, which had come loose from its binding, was clearly visible from under the end of the covering. Tavi was at the other end of the chesterfield; her back curled tightly against the crooks of his knees and her head pillowed on the armrest. Nanuk rushed forward and bumped noses with his friend and the two of them started to wag at each other. Ben whispered to them, "C-come on you t-two. Wanna g-go outside?"

Tavi slowly got up from her spot on the couch and started to stretch while Nanuk tried to ever so helpfully nip her head. Ben made a quick ushering movement at the dogs; he just didn’t want them to wake Quentin up quite yet. The two followed him to the back door wagging and nipping playfully at each other. When Ben had tied the dogs out in the yard, he went back to the front room to check on Quentin again.

He had rolled onto his back and had not woken yet, but he had brought his arms out from under the heavy blanket and had managed to push it to almost his navel in the effort. His chest seemed mostly smooth with only a light dusting of hair and his arms were of a hard corded muscle and unlike the bulky muscle of a body shaped in a gym, this was a body shaped through years of heavy work.

Most remarkable thing about the body though, was the tattoos. While Ben had seen tattoos of all kinds in magazines and books, he usually held the opinion that for the most part they looked crass but he was transfixed by the work done on this man. It was obvious that each tattoo had been carefully designed and meticulously crafted so that his body became a living painting of a life led. There were no gaudy, half naked women nor cartoon characters making obscene gestures. Large intricately patterned Celtic knot work in shades of green and blue, which gave Quentin an almost tribal look, adorned his chest and trailed down to his muscled abdomen, much like the ones Ben had pictured adorning the Irish warriors when they first met the Romans. On one shoulder there was a beautiful and vibrant picture of two dragons entwined. He wasn’t positive from this distance, but they appeared to be Chinese in design, one in shades of red, green and gold and the other in white, blue and purple. Ben’s eyes then travelled up to Quentin’s face.

His sleep relaxed features made him look younger than Ben could remember seeing him, but creases still marked his eyes giving him a careworn look. In profile, his face had an almost regal set to it and Ben thought to himself, "He would have been no common warrior. He would have been an Irish King."

He felt a warm tingling sensation start in his stomach and travel downward. He flushed a deep crimson and looked away. He walked into the kitchen to start making breakfast. "After all, what would he think if he woke to find me standing there staring at him like that? Really, Ben, where has your mind gone recently?" He had not noticed that Quentin’s eyes had already opened slightly and he was smiling rather smugly to himself.

Quentin could hear the sounds coming from the kitchen and could smell food starting to be prepared and entertained the idea of perhaps going to offer his help, but he was reluctant to move in case this was just one of his more vivid fantasies. It would dissolve and he would be back in the cold and dingy room at the motel. He could not remember the last time he had put Jinn away and let Quentin come out, the last time he was in a safe, warm place where he did not have to hide and could wake up to Ben looking at him with an expression that looked very akin to want! It made this the best fantasy yet, so he burrowed a little further under the fresh smelling blanket and tried his best to keep reality out for a while longer.

Quentin dozed again in his warm cocoon until the sound of barking dogs and the smell of coffee brewing roused him fully and he reluctantly got up to face the new day. He sat on the edge of the chesterfield, stretched and yawned widely. He winced slightly as the wound in his leg pulled under its bandage. He noticed the bloodstain on his jeans seemed bigger than the night before. "Oh, please, no," he thought as he swiftly pulled back the white eiderdown to look. But sure enough, there was a small but most definite dried bloodstain on the one side. "Oh, shit!"

Quentin quickly pulled the edge of the cover back down, just as a large brindled mass of fur landed on the seat next to him and a long wet tongue started to lick his face in abandon. "Tavi!" Ben whispered harshly as he entered the room, "Don’t you go disturbing…. Ummm … g-good morning.’ Ben stopped short as he rounded the corner and saw Quentin sitting there half naked with the dog in question laying now sprawled out next to him, desperately trying to get a tummy rub.

"Good morning to you, Ben!" Quentin said as he reached over and gave Tavi a short and vigorous rub before patting her flank to usher her back off the seat.

"D-did you sleep w-well?" Ben asked hesitantly.

"Like the dead. This is a wonderful little place you have here. I am sorry, though, but I bled a bit on your lovely white blanket, I will pay you to replace it"

"O-oh d-don’t bother yourself o-over that. I-it’s not y-your fault. And th-thank you, it’s not m-much, but it suits m-me."

"Don’t sell it short too fast… If you had stayed at half the…" Quentin’s voice trailed off at the end and he looked quickly away. "But again, sorry about the blanket."

Ben shifted uncomfortably in the awkward silence before he said, "I-I have m-made breakfast, i-if you’d l-like."

Quentin stood up, pulled his worn t-shirt on and followed Ben into the kitchen. It looked very different from the night before. Instead of the eerie glow from the fluorescents of the night before, it was filled with cheery morning sunshine, which came in through the large glass French doors in the dining room. Both rooms were painted a pale yellow and in the dining room was an old rosewood dinette set, but that’s not what caught Quentin’s attention that moment. On the dark table Ben had set out a meal, the likes if which he had not seen in a while.

On the table a large platter held large pink slices of fried ham and fat bratwurst sausage, scrambled eggs were piled liberally into a nearby bowl and a stack of large fluffy pancakes sat on a large brown plate. A large pat of butter was set neatly in a cut crystal dish and a condiment tray held several types of jellies and jams. Two place settings were neatly put in front of the end and side chairs and a large silver coloured tea service was set in the direct middle of the table. "You certainly DID set out breakfast!" he said in an awed voice.

"I-I didn’t k-know what you’d like, s-so I k-kind of made everything, " Ben said quickly, blushing furiously.

Ben offered Quentin the seat at the end of the table and then took the seat to the side. It took all of his will power for Quentin not to simply shovel the food in, giving no regard to politesse at all. He heaped his plate full of everything Ben had put on the table, when Ben suddenly sprung up like a firework had gone off under his seat, "Oh, I nearly forgot!"

Ben hurried back into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator door and pulled out a large bottle filled with a dark amber liquid. He hurried back to the table and put the bottle down. "C-can’t have pancakes w-without maple s-syrup!" he smiled.

Quentin laughed right out loud, "Ben, trust me. I would never have noticed! This food alone beats anything Mace has ever produced…" He cut himself off there.

"I-is Mace a f-friend of yours?" Ben asked suddenly when he felt a slight twinge in his stomach.

Quentin paused thoughtfully and said, "You could say that. You could also say that he is someone I owe a debt to."

"Wh-what ever happened to y–you?" Ben asked, surprising himself at he boldness of the question.

"You mean last night?" Jinn said as he placed a bit of sausage in his mouth.

"Y-yes?" Ben said uncertainly. He had wanted to ask so much more at that moment. Such as, how did a man like Quentin, who seemed like such a gentle soul, go from being in university studying to be a teacher, to living in an abandoned motel with someone named Mace and showing up at the his door in the middle of the night with a wounded leg. But he held his tongue. He would take whatever Quentin was comfortable in offering at the moment.

"I had a run in with someone who was less than happy to see me and they happened to have a knife on them. The wound to my leg was the result of that meeting."

"You were st-stabbed?" Ben said as the colour drained from his face.

"You could say that. You could say I was barely nicked also," Quentin said as he quirked an eyebrow at Ben. When he saw Ben’s reaction he quickly added, "As I said, it really is nothing to worry yourself about. It happens. You can’t live like I do and not make a few enemies along the way."

"B-but then you c-came here? Wh-why here? Wh-what if y-you had b-been followed?" Ben stammered out as the shock of the situation was wearing off and a faint glimmer of the previous night’s anger was starting to return.

"Because I thought I had a friend here, or at least someone who would not turn me out. Ben, you have to believe me when I tell you I took every precaution to make sure I was not followed and I would never do anything consciously to put you in danger. I would die first!"

Ben stared at Quentin for what seemed a long time trying to fully process what he had just said. Benn looked nervously away, took off his glasses and used the end of his housecoat sleeve to wipe them. He placed them back on his face and let his eyes fall on the clock on his kitchen wall. "Oh n-no! I-I’m running l-late!" Ben said as he quickly got up from the chair and started to clear the dishes from the table, nearly cracking them in his haste.

"Here, let me get that!" Quentin said getting gingerly up from the table and taking the dirty dishes from Ben’s hands. "After the hospitality you have shown me and me ruining a perfectly good blanket, it really is the least I can do."

"N-nonsense, I-I have already told y-you not to w-worry about i-it." Ben stammered as he made a grab at the stack of dishes to pull them back toward him. In his panic succeeded in not only pulling back the dishes but Quentin along with them.

There they stood then rooted to the spot, their noses barely inches from each other. Quentin’s deep blue eyes locked directly with Ben’s mutable blue green ones and held them. He could feel Quentin’s warm breath tickling as it brushed softly against his face. Ben realized he had stopped breathing and did two things at once. He sucked in a quick breath and let go of the dishes.

There was a loud crash and porcelain shards scattered across the floor. The noise sent the dogs scurrying as fast as they could manage toward the front room with their tails between their legs as if to say, "Wasn’t me!"

Ben backed away from Quentin. "I-I have to g-go to w-work now," he repeated as he looked forlornly at the mess on the floor.

"I understand. Don’t worry I can show myself out," Quentin said as he looked away from Ben.

"Y-you don’t h-have to leave y-you know. I-I stand b-by what I-I said last n-night. I-if you n-need a place t-to stay until y-you are healed, y-you canstayhere," Ben said the last part in a rush before the nerve left him.

"Ben, I may have to take you up on that offer. But I have something I need to do today first. No hurry and go get ready for work. I will start to clean up in here."

Ben went to get ready for work, all the while thinking, "Now I know I have gone mad." When he stepped into the shower he started to feel some of the tension of the strangeness of the situation slip away and it was slowly being replaced with something else. A slow rising heat that had nothing to do with the temperature of the water he stood under.

If he had not dropped the dishes in the kitchen just now, he was sure he would have kissed Quentin. Then what would the reaction had been? He could no longer deny that he was attracted to this gentle enigma of a man. His life was dangerous and something about that thrilled Ben. Somehow he felt like he for once wanted to drink in some of that danger even vicariously. But to kiss another man when he was not sure of how it would be accepted was more danger than he wanted.

When he emerged from his bedroom in a neat shirt, sombre tie and dark suit pants he heard Quentin let out a low whistle and say, "Well, he does clean up well doesn’t he, guys?"

Quentin was leaning against the kitchen counter feeding the salvageable bits of ham and sausage to the two dogs who were furiously going through their entire repertoire of tricks trying to out do each other to get the lion’s share of the treats.

Ben laughed softly and removed his glasses to clean them on the end of his necktie. When he put them back on, he suddenly did a small turn and said, "I-I am glad you l-like it. I-it’s what all th-the stylish b-bookworms are w-wearing this season!"

Quentin let out a short, loud laugh, "Ben, the good Lord gave you such a grand sense of humour. It is a pity you don’t use it more."

After he had walked with Ben the short distance to the library and told him he would see him later that night, Quentin went to where he had hidden his bike he night before. As he straddled the bike and kicked it to life, once again Quentin was gone and Jinn sat in his place. He tied his hair back in the leather thong he used to keep it out of his eyes, pulled his helmet on over it and then started on the journey back to where the gang would surely be waiting for him.

When he got back to the motel he spotted Mace standing outside in the parking lot scanning the road. When Mace spotted him he raised his hand in greeting.

Jinn skidded to a stop in front of the dark skinned man and sprayed his shins with gravel. Mace, who’s left eye was still swollen shut and looked like he had definitely seen better days, smiled at him and clapped him roughly on the back, "You slippery old fox. We were positive Keagan got you!"

"Will take more that a simple wee stab to the leg to slow me down, Mace, and you know it!" Jinn said with false confidence. He turned off the engine on his bike and flicked down the kickstand.

He got up from the bike, removed his helmet and started back toward the motel with Mace, "Is Yoda awake yet? I need to see him."

"Aye, you know he is. But he’s not in the best of moods with you at the moment. When you split off from the rest of us like that, he didn’t know what to make of it. He figured you had gone turncoat on us, especially when you insisted that the sidecar be attached to my bike this time. There is a doubtful honour I don’t think I have fully repaid you for yet!"

"I had told the insane old git that now was not the time to try and get back to the city. Xan’s death may be old news to the cops now, but to others, like Keagan, the wound is still fresh, " Jinn said as he stalked toward Yoda’s room.

When he entered the cold and foul smelling room he felt a million miles away from Ben and his well-appointed little house, which is exactly where he needed to be. "Ah, found our Jinn, have you Mace. Good this is. Worried what your motives were, we were, Jinn!" Yoda croaked at him.

"My motives were to keep Keagan and his gang from finding out where we are staying right now, Yoda. He was after me and so I posed him a quandary. Go after me or keep up with the rest of you. Which, if I may add, would not have been hard on the open road. So I let him follow me down a rabbit hole, so to speak. It worked."

"Forget yourself you do, Jinn. My orders the gang follows, not their own whims."

"And it was one of your orders that nearly got us all killed!" Jinn said angrily. "When it comes to it I will do what I must to keep everyone safe. If that means breaking your orders and following my instinct, so be it!"

"Defy me, you will not, Jinn! I, alone, will say where the gang will go." Yoda countered.

"Listen to me, Yoda. It is not safe to go back. Keagan is still out for blood over his brother’s death and who can blame him. I told Mace at the time that it was pointless and cruel to kill Xan like that, but I guess I failed to mention the other repercussions. It would be suicide to attempt to go back again."

Mace’s voice suddenly broke in, "With all due respect, Yoda, I must agree with Jinn. We were lucky this time. We may not be next time."

The argument went on until Jinn had finally had enough and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him. A moment later Mace followed him out to the parking lot and caught him just as he was replacing his helmet. "Where are you going?" he asked.

"I have a place to stay for the next couple of days. I will be there. Trust me on this, I’ll be back when Yoda is ready to listen to reason."

"I still don’t think it’s the best idea for you to go now, Jinn. Yoda is already suspicious. But if you feel the need to," Mace said without looking at him.

"I need to be away for a while now, Mace. If you want to follow that old fool to certain death, that’s your choice, not mine!" Jinn snapped as he started the engine on his bike and it roared to life.

"You have no choice in this, Jinn! You forget that!" Mace shouted at him above the deafening sound of the bike engine. "You know one day your defiance will buy you the same fate as Xan!"

"Then I’ll see you in Hell!" Jinn shouted back as the wheeled his bike around and sped out of the parking lot.

He knew his decision had been rash and there would be hell to pay when he went back. If he went back. He was no longer sure that even if the city were safe for them now he would go back. Something inside had changed last night when Ben had taken him in when he could have turned him away. He would have been well within his rights to do so. He didn’t think he could leave Ben now, even if he wanted to.

He rode around most of the day, checking in his mirror every once in a while to make sure he wasn’t being followed. It was well into the evening before he decided it was safe to head back to Ben’s house and his heart started to pound painfully in his chest as he caught sight of the small house with it’s cheery yellow lights glowing through the front window.

 

CH 09

Ben sat on one of the large padded chairs in his front room, slumped to one side and holding a book in his hand. Earlier, he had made great pretence of reading it and even flipped a few pages back and forth. He had looked at his watch, got up out of the chair and walked over to the window.

He drew back the sheers slightly and looked out into the deserted street for any sign of movement. He looked down at his watch and then back out into the street. "Maybe he’s not coming back," Ben had thought sullenly.

"Well, I wouldn’t blame him. Every time he’s around you manage to make a right idiot of yourself. Losing control of limbs, falling off or over things. Breaking things. You really do know how to put on a real spectacle. Then to almost kiss him…. Idiot!" Ben looked down to see that Tavi had joined him in his vigil. He stroked her ear and said, "Well, girl, we should probably not be standing in the window anyway. What would happen if he did come back and there we are looking out expectantly like parents waiting for an errant teenager!"

Ben went and sat down on the chair again and opened the book and started to flip pages then fell asleep.

In an odd way Ben knew he was dreaming, but it felt strangely real. It seemed as if he were being held immobile, his arms held high above his head. A sharp pain in his head was making it difficult for him to see and his head was slumped forward onto his chest. He noted absently that his shirtfront was covered in blood. He little knew how he got there and was almost completely unaware of his surroundings. A loud roar of several voices caused him to jerk his head up and try his best to focus.

There seemed to be many people in the room. But they were formless and blurred and seemed to hold no substance. This created a relief against which the grim spectacle unfolded before him. Stepping out into an eerie light he saw Quentin. His bare chest was covered in a thin sheen of sweat and he seemed to be slowly circling in a predatory manner.

His patrician brow was furrowed in pain and concentration and Ben noticed a definite limp in his gait. As he circled further Ben got a view of his broad, muscled back. There he saw what looked to be a living painting on flesh. There was a man lying prone with a tawny haired angel bent over him. Beneath it was written "Good night sweet prince, may flights of angels wing you to your rest".

He saw Quentin’s head snap back with what seemed to be an unseen blow and another roar erupted from the shadows about him. Suddenly Ben’s arms and legs seemed to go free and he fell forward onto a hard, dirty floor. He looked up just in time to see a cold glint of metal and hear a cackling laugh start. Then the air was shattered by a loud clap, which sounded like thunder in his ears.

He saw Quentin fall and stood up and started to rush to him. Quentin was lying face down on the floor and Ben knelt down next to him. He turned Quentin over and pulled the large man into his arms.

Quentin’s breathing was coming in short and rattling gasps. Ben could see the rivulets of crimson running from his mouth, but there seemed to be no mark on him anywhere else. Quentin seemed to be trying to talk to him and he leaned in closer to try and hear him. "I am sorry, Ben, but I seem to have bled a bit on your lovely white blanket. I will pay for…"

"Don’t be silly," Ben went to say but the voice would not come. He then looked around them and realised they seemed to be in the middle of a blanket of almost blinding white. A narrow stream of blood was running down from Jinn’s back somewhere and staining the pristine white with an ugly red gash.

"I really do love you…" Quentin said before a seizure took him and he convulsed in Ben’s arms.

"Somebody help me!" he yelled mutely, tears blurring his vision and making slick wet streams down his cheeks. "Please, somebody… help me…" Another loud clap rent the air and Ben wrenched awake with a start.

Ben scrambled for a second in his chair and readjusted his glasses, which were now askew on his face, and felt the wetness on his cheeks. He scrubbed at it with the back of his sleeves and laughed slightly at himself. "It was only a dream," he told himself. Then he heard a loud and frantic rapping at the back door.

Tavi and Nanuk were already at the door, wagging their tails and whining to get out when Ben took a couple of deep calming breaths. He was *not* going to embarrass himself this time! "Well here we go," he thought as he smoothed down the front of his slightly rumpled shirt, took off his glasses to clean them and went to open the door.

When he got there, he swung it open just as Quentin was about to knock again, thus causing the taller man to swing slightly, miss and stumble forward. "Well, Mum, aren’t you now going to ask me where I have been all this time?" Quentin said gruffly, his eyes belying his underlying merriment.

Ben folded his arms and tried to look stern, but failed miserably when a smile pulled at the corners of his mouth, "W-Well, now that you mention it, I was b-beginning to wonder if y-you got lost!"

"Judging by the look of ya, you were sound asleep not a moment ago!"

Ben opened his mouth to protest, and then said, "I-I was only resting m-my eyeballs."

Quentin began to chuckle and walked into the kitchen, removing his helmet and gloves and placing them on the counter.

"Wh-why did you come t-to the back d-door?"

"I needed a place to put my bike so it would not be noticed."

"Oh," Ben said as he peered out into the darkness, barely making out the shadow of a large motorbike in his back yard. "A-are you hungry?"

"No," laughed Quentin, "Not really. But what I could use is some tarpaulin."

"Some?"

"Tarpaulin. You know a sort of water proof sheet to cover the bike with in case it snows."

"Oh, well I d-don’t have one o-of those. But I have an old vinyl b-banquet table cover, will that do?" Ben asked and then flushed slightly.

"Yes," laughed Quentin, "I am sure it will do."

Ben went to get his mother’s old table cover out of the chest where he’d been storing it. He lifted the heavy lid and his nostrils were assaulted with the smell of mothballs. He sat back for a moment, waiting for the air to clear, and then started to rummage through the contents of the chest. He finally found what he was looking for. It was old, and in a gaudy flower-pattern with a fuzzy soft non-slip side. Ben could not remember the last time he had taken it out or what his motivation had been for keeping it all this time, but for once he was glad he did.

As he pulled the it out of the chest, a photograph fell out of it and landed face up on the floor. Ben felt his heart constrict.

In the photo, a teenage Ben was making a face at the camera and pressed to his one cheek was a smiling face of a young man, not much older than Ben was now, but it was a face Ben had been trying to forget since. At one point, Angus had been his favourite uncle. Only older than Ben by about 10 years, he had been the one Ben could be himself around. He was irreverent, funny and sarcastic and the only one who would listen to the youth.

Ben picked up the photograph and ran a finger across the shining surface. He shook himself out of the reverie and dropped the photo back into the chest and closed the lid once again on it. "It would do no good now to start thinking back on it," he told himself as he picked up the table cover and headed back up the hall.

Quentin was leaned over and scratching both Tavi and Nanuk behind the ears vigorously. He looked up and smiled at Ben, as the young man entered the room. " Ah, I see you have found it!"

"Y-yes…" Ben said not quite meeting Quentin’s eyes.

"Ben? What is it? You look like you’ve seen a ghost."

"Oh, the t-trunk this was in was full of m-mothballs. I don’t think th-they quite agreed w-with me." Ben offered Quentin a weak smile. Quentin looked at him as if he didn’t quite buy into the excuse but was not going to push for the real answer.

Ben put on his coat and followed Quentin into the darkened back yard. Tavi and Nanuk raced out the door and into the chilly night air. The moon, reflected from the snow, cast everything in a silvery light. The two dogs nipped at each other and barked looking back at the two men hopefully. "No, n-not tonight, guys! " Ben called over the raucous din.

"Th-they think we’re going f-for a walk." He said in answer to Quentin’s questioning look.

Quentin retrieved the cover from Ben and started to shake it out. When he saw the large red, blue and green flowers; he could not quite contain a laugh. "Oh, my…" But Ben did not really react. He had turned and was looking at the motorbike.

"Nice, isn’t it?" Quentin said as he came up behind Ben. Ben nodded slightly. "It’s a vintage 1969 Harley Roadster. It cost a bit more, but I think it was well worth it. Has an extended seat, perhaps you’d like to come for a ride at some point?"

Unbidden, the image of being curled tightly against Quentin’s back, his arms clinging around the trim waist came to Ben’s mind. Just as he started to feel the now-familiar heat rising in his body, Ben ruthlessly shoved the image from his mind and took one end of the cover from Quentin and started to fold it over the top of the bike.

"C-can I ask wh-where you had to g-go today?" Ben muttered, half to himself.

"I just had some business to clear up. It’s really nothing for you to worry about," Quentin answered matter-of-factly.

"I just w-wondered …"

"Ben, if you are concerned that I am putting you in danger, don’t be. I have managed to get myself in a spot of trouble, that much is true. But if I figured that I was in anyway bringing harm to you, I would leave now and never come back."

Ben nodded grimly and finished tucking his end of the vinyl cloth over the bike and stood back. He could hear the dogs barking some distance back in the yard, at least they sounded carefree for the moment.

Quentin had noticed this shift in mood from his young companion. He quickly finished securing the cloth to the bike and then stood next to Ben and said, "Well, she’s been kept many places and under many things. But I don’t reckon I can remember her looking quite so festive before!" Ben chuckled slightly at the comment, but his eyes did not shift from the bike in front of him.

Quentin felt Ben starting to recoil back in on himself and it had taken him this long to get the younger man to open up, even slightly. He found he could not let that happen again. He could not remember meeting anyone who was so young and so sombre. Quentin smiled to himself as he got a wicked idea, which would either work in breaking Ben out of the melancholy he was in or would drive him even further in his shell.

"You know. When I was a young man in Ireland, I would always hear tell of a mystical being called a Banshee," he said in a conversational voice as he walked around back of Ben. The younger man was slightly confused as to where this particular story was going, but let Quentin continue.

"Have you heard of a Banshee before?" Ben shook his head slightly. Slowly Quentin crouched down and gathered a handful of snow and continued in the same conversational voice. "Well they say the Banshee would come out on nights very much like this and lie in wait for unsuspecting mortals to let their guard down, the you know what? She would slowly sneak up behind them…" As good as his word and silently as a shadow the large man came right up behind Ben and paused. "And then they would feel her icy hand run down their spine!" He said as he yanked back the collar of Ben’s shirt and deposited the icy handful down the back of it.

Ben let out a loud howl as the wet and frigid mass slid down his spine and he danced around frantically trying to get it out of the back of his shirt. "Ah yes!" Quentin laughed, "I can even hear her wail now!"

Ben wheeled around and faced his unapologetic friend. His face was flushed red and his mouth gaped open like he had been stung. He had not been sure whether to be furious at the other man or not until he crouched down to retrieve his own handful of snow and start advancing on Quentin. The dogs, hearing Ben’s yell came bounding back across the yard to find out what was going on.

"Now, Ben. I don’t think you want to be starting something right now that I will win!" Quentin said as he put out a placating hand and slowly backed away. Ben was too busy fashioning a snowball to be paying much attention to what the other man was saying. Quick as a flash he pulled his arm back and released the frozen projectile. Quentin ducked and the ball missed him and landed in the snowdrift behind him. Tavi and Nanuk launched themselves into the drift trying to retrieve the ball where it had landed and were soon racing and leaping around the duo as more snowballs were made and thrown.

Quentin ducked low and launched himself at Ben, toppling him backward into the soft snow and busily pinned his arms to his side. Ben struggled fruitlessly against the grip of the larger man. "You, my young friend, need to learn never to enter a battle you cannot win as much as you need to learn how to relax!" Quentin laughed. His face only inches from his young captives’.

"Okay," Ben said going lax under Quentin’s weight. Both of them were out of breath and laughing. Ben’s clear laugh rang through the night air and Quentin found himself looking down at him. His eyes caught Ben’s and held them; he then did what he had been trying to get the courage to do since he met the young man. He leaned in and kissed him lightly on the mouth.

He pulled back to observe the younger man trapped beneath him. Ben’s mouth had slightly opened and he gave no protest. Quentin leaned in again and deepened the kiss this time. He ran his tongue along Ben’s lower lip and then carefully slid it into his sweet, warm mouth. Ben started to respond to the kiss, his own tongue twining slightly with the larger man’s. Quentin released Ben’s arms and then felt them move up behind his neck.

He pulled back again and looked into Ben’s face one more time. His pupils were starting to dilate and his lips were slightly swollen from the kisses. Ben leaned up and captured Quentin’s mouth and revelled in the feeling of the beard slightly scratching at his lower lip and jaw. The blood, which had been colouring his face, was starting to travel to other areas of his body and he could hear himself making small and needy whimpers and the older man very delicately took possession of his mouth.

Then, like a shock of cold water being thrown on him, Ben remembered where he was and whom he was with. He pulled back from Quentin suddenly and breathed, "I-I should not be d-doing this. I am sorry. It’s n-not right!"

He stood up and headed back into the house with Quentin hot on his heels.

CH 10

Ben ran into the house and slammed the door behind him.  Just a few moments after, he
heard the door open and slam again.  He could hear Quentin's harsh breathing echoing in the room and the clicking of the dogs' nails on the tiles as they paced nervously.  He was loath to turn and actually face Quentin.  He would be furious. Ben knew it.

After a few moments where neither of them made a move, Ben finally took a deep breath and turned to face Quentin and whatever he had coming to him. It was worse than he thought.  Quentin was looming up behind him, his mouth hanging slightly open and his hands curled slightly, but hanging limply at his sides.  He was drenched and the water ran in small rivulets from his lank hair and down his sleeves dripping slowly onto the floor.  His chest expanded contracted with deep, noisy inhalations and he was visibly shaking.

Ben smiled at him slightly, in what he hoped was in a bright way, and said, "Tea?"

"What?" Quentin said to him in a low voice, his face now adding incredulity to the mix of emotions being displayed on it.

"Tea. I-I was asking if y-you'd like tea," Ben said, trying not to let fear leak through in his voice.

"I heard you.  I just thought perhaps you had made some sort of horrendous misjudgement in what it was you wanted to say just now." Quentin kept his voice low and emotionless, but he seemed to be shaking a bit more now. "I mean considering what just happened."

"Oh th-that," Ben's voice fell and he shifted his gaze from the fiery blue one to the floor, "I really d-don't think w-we should discuss it.  We can just p-put the whole m-messy business behind us.  I-I can make tea and y-you can get changed out of th-those wet things before you c-catch your death. I-I have a robe you c-can borrow. I-it might be a b-bit short."

"What if I don't want to 'put the whole messy business behind us' and would like an explanation *now* ?" Quentin took a step closer to Ben, who backed away.

"I-I don't w-want to discuss it," Ben said as he turned and started to walk toward the stove.

"You *will* discuss it, Ben.  Now!" Quentin yelled as he grabbed Ben by the wrist and used it to force Ben back around to face him.  The look in Ben's eyes made Quentin freeze to the spot.  Ben was terrified.

Quentin felt the ire leave him as he looked into those changeable blue-green eyes and saw the fear almost literally projecting from them.  "Ben?" he asked softly.  "What is it? What's wrong?"  On a sudden impulse, he raised his hand slowly to run his knuckles down Ben's smooth cheek in what he hoped was a calming manner.  His heart fell when Ben flinched away.

"I am sorry, lad.  I said I would never hurt you and I will hold myself to that promise."

Ben visibly relaxed slightly, but still looked at Quentin warily.  "Please d-don't be angry or d-disgusted for what I d-did out there.  For wh-what I am. I promise I'll try to m-maintain better c-control now," he pleaded.

"Ben, lad, forgive me.  But you seem to be speaking in a foreign language. Angry?  Disgusted? What you are? I am not quite following you here," Quentin looked at Ben with genuine confusion and concern.

"I am un-n-natural and a-abnormal.  I find other m-men attractive and I know th-that's wrong.  P-please, if m-maybe you could j-just forget what j-just happened now, w-we can still be f-friends?" Ben sounded very much like he was reciting an implanted automatic response to a situation, with all the emotion of a telephone voicemail service.

"Abnormal? Unnatural? Just what kind of medieval crap are you spouting here?" Quentin asked, taken aback.

Ben sounded as if he had not even registered that Quentin had interjected at all and continued along in his diatribe, "I know i-it's my own p-problem. They t-tried to help me."

"What are you on about?" Quentin asked, with increasing frustration.

"I t-took advantage of a c-close situation with you a-and I am sorry. Th-they have help f-for people like me." Ben continued, pleading once again.

With dawning horror Quentin understood what Ben was getting at.  All the signs were there: the fear, doubt and emotionless replies.  Ben was another "successful" graduate of a sexual orientation reprogramming therapy.  Or as he preferred to call it, institutionalised mind rape and brainwashing. "Ben, first of all what kind of bullshit dogma do you think you're spouting?  And to whom?  Number two, what was it about what just happened out there that gave you the impression that I was any less than a willing participant?"

"Y-you got angry."

"I got angry because you left me in kind of a lurch out there." Quentin half chuckled, and then grew serious again.  "Please, Ben, it's time to stop hiding now.  I want to know you and would never judge you.  That would be a bit of the pot and the kettle situation, wouldn't it?  What is it?  What did they do to you?  I know you keep yourself, that someone else, hidden behind all those walls of yours.  I have seen him in glimpses and catches.  I'd like the chance to get to know Ben. I want to know *you*." Quentin finished, his hands resting lightly on Ben’s shoulders and gazing intensely into the smaller man’s eyes.

Ben was quiet for a long time.  His eyes shifted from Quentin to the ceiling, to the floor and back to Quentin again.  He finally sighed and said, "I can t-try, but first I n-need to show you s-something."

Ben walked down the hall to his bedroom and this time Quentin followed, determined not to let the younger man take this opportunity to try and make an escape again.  Ben turned on the bedside lamp, situated just inside the door, and pulled open the heavy lid of the chest at the foot of his bed. He pulled out a photograph and handed it to Quentin then turned away.

Quentin stood looking at the photo of the two young men for a while and then sat on the edge of the bed, no longer noticing his wet clothing.

"That's m-me and my uncle An-Angus.  That was the last photo w-we had taken t-together.  That was b-before he… he…" Ben started in a low and halting voice.

Then he stopped and got a far away look in his eyes.  Quentin then decided to prompt him further, " Did he *do* something to you Ben?  I mean did he have a part in…"

"Oh, no!  N-nothing like that!  He w-was my hero.  He's my father's y-youngest brother and p-probably one of my c-closest relatives in age.  He w-was about 10 years o-older than me.  I l-loved him more than p-probably any other living p-person.  We w-would always b-back each other up and h-help each other out, wh-when my p-parents were being un-reasonable.  When mum p-put me on a strict d-diet when I was just a child, he w-would sneak sweets into the house and th-then pass them to me in s-secret.  Every time
he w-would come to visit h-he'd take me out to d-do things like go to the zoo or t-to the observatory.  He took me once t-to see a live performance of T-Tristan and Iseult and it's the o-only play I have ever seen.  Y-you see, my parents barely r-registered me at all.  For a while I th-thought I was a b-badly planned tax deduction that th-they didn't realise they would be s-spending so many years raising, " Ben said as he sat gingerly down on the bed next to Quentin.

"That sounds awful!" Quentin said, trying to keep his voice as even as possible.

"Oh, it w-wasn't so bad, D-Dad just worked a lot and Mum h-had her social engagements.  I had my b-books and the frequent v-visits of Angus to look forward t-to.  I w-worshipped him, and this was l-long before I realised I had developed a r-rather large crush on him.  I g-guess in my own adolescent way I w-was always rather attracted t-to him, or the idea of him.  Not that h-he ever noticed or even thought of m-me in the least that way.  I was just his k-kid nephew and he was my w-world.  S-sometimes I would fantasise that w-we weren't related at all and he w-would tell everyone so. And t-take me away to live with him.  B-but reality is a jealous m-mistress.

One day I c-came home from school and I c-could hear yelling in the study. I g-guessed later on that Angus h-had just told my parents he w-was… th-that way, " Ben's voice faltered again.

"You mean he was gay?"

"Yes. They were m-making such a terrible f-fuss over it.  They were saying such t-terrible things to h-him and trying to force him to leave.  He w-was adamant. He said that he w-wouldn't leave until he had a chance to s-see me and explain.  Wh-when they all t-turned and saw me standing there, I guess they were a b-bit surprised.  I was elated! I-I had th-thought perhaps my dream had finally c-come true! I then d-did the last truly impulsive th-thing I have ever done.  I walked across th-the room and k-kissed him.  R-right on the m-mouth and in front of my parents.  He pushed m-me away and looked v-very alarmed by my action. I r-realised it w-was not a dream c-come true but very m-much a nightmare. He d-did not and never could share m-my feelings. But it was t-too late and the damage w-was done.  My p-parents then accused him of 'interfering' w-with me, which was of course j-just a euphemism for a m-molesting me.  I t-tried to stand up f-for him.  Tell th-them that wasn't the case, th-that he never.  No one was l-listening.  So Angus was t-told to leave the house and never t-try and s-see me again or else they would have him t-tried as a paedophile.  I was s-sent away to a school th-that had therapies in p-place to help to cure a boy like me."

"Cure?  It's not some illness you have, Ben.  It's who you are!"

"Well, th-they guaranteed my parents that I w-would be a normal and healthy boy in n-no time.  It was the m-most awful place I had e-ever been in my l-life and the next two years seemed l-like an eternity.  I would m-mostly go to class like any b-boy, but for two hours a d-day I was to report t-to a therapy session wh-where they would try and n-negate my abnormality.  They w-would make me look at pictures of m-men and then feed me drugs t-to cause n-nausea in hopes of it having s-some sort of Pavlovian c-conditioning effect on me.  When that d-did not seem to be working f-fast enough, they would try alternate m-methods like making m-me divulge any sexual f-fantasies I had ever h-had involving men, and then b-beat me for having th-them.  Eventually I l-learned the trick th-though.  I kept all my th-thoughts to myself and no one c-could then ever hurt me for th-them.  I
graduated from th-the school and went on to university and a n-normal life. Or so they say.  But I s-still have all these w-wrong feelings inside.  I even tried t-to date women at one t-time, but I always felt wh-what I really wanted was j-just out of my grasp somehow."  Ben finished the tale and had not noticed that somewhere during it, Quentin had taken hold of his hand and was now squeezing it tightly.

"If you will excuse me for saying so, you are not the one who is abnormal or wrong, but your narrow minded and foolish parents who were.  You cannot help who you are in any way on the inside.  You just are, there is no right or wrong to it.  It just is.  They put you through that and turned you into someone who is frightened of his own shadow, let alone intimacy.  That is abnormal and wrong.  Does something feel wrong about this?" Quentin asked as he kissed Ben tenderly on the forehead.

"N-no?" Ben said uncertainly.

"And this?" this time Quentin kissed him lingeringly on the cheek, letting the course hairs of his short beard tickle slightly.

Ben only gasped slightly.  Quentin pulled back and looked at Ben and said, "You hide, but you are a wonderful and kind man and deserving of all of the affection someone would have to offer you.  Never let anyone else tell you who you are or what is right.  You already know."

He was about to leave when he felt Ben's grip tighten on his hand.  Ben then leaned in and kissed Quentin's slightly opened mouth.  At first it was light and tentative, like the fleeting brush of a butterfly's wing on his lips. Then it grew more bold and questing.

Ben slipped his tongue into Quentin's mouth and started to try and tease the older man's tongue into a response.  For once, Quentin took the passive role and let Ben move at his own pace.   He let Ben tickle and tease the inside of his mouth in a somewhat unpracticed kiss.  Soon Quentin allowed his tongue to start to slide and dance along Ben's, drawing it further into his mouth where he could suck on it ever so slightly.

He felt the thrill run through Ben's body and this time he was not pulling away or bolting for the door.  He was wrapping his free hand into the hair on the back of Quentin's neck and pulling him in closer.

For the first time in what seemed forever, Ben just simply felt free. There was no shame or fear of reprimand sitting with Quentin, now and just indulging himself in what was in effect his first real kiss. Part of him wondered how much time he had wasted already on pain and regret and how much time he may have in the future to continue exploring this new relationship. Mostly he was just enjoying the feeling of the warm, wet mouth causing sensations in him he had never allowed himself before and the solid body pressed so closely to his.

Finally Ben broke the kiss and when Quentin looked at him, tears had started to overflow his lower lashes.  "Oh, God!  I hate them.  I hate my own parents.  How could they do this to me?  Their own son?  Did they even know? Did they care?" Ben whispered as he started to tremble uncontrollably.

Quentin lay back on the bend and pulled Ben close into his chest as he trembled violently in the embrace.  He placed kisses on Ben's soft hair and held him tightly.  When the trembling finally stopped, he removed the jacket from himself and from Ben's sleeping body, trying hard not to wake him.  He then pulled a blanket over the two of them and turned off the light.  He pulled Ben in closer to his chest and vowed silently to himself that while he was here no one would ever hurt Ben again.  He would teach him how to defend himself and how to fight for what he believed in again.  Quentin kissed Ben one last time and started to fall asleep.

He did not hear Tavi come wandering into the room or feel her place her head on the side of the bed and look at them.  She snorted at the interloper who had taken her spot in the bed and then wandered off.

Ch 11

The inside of the small bar was dark and cloistered feeling. Rough, grey brick walls gave one the eerie feeling of being inside a dungeon. Any light that entered the tinted front windows was being filtered through a dense cloud of smoke, which hung in the air like a fog. Flickering neon signs, advertising various brands of alcoholic beverages provided most of the illumination to the rows of dirty booths that lined the walls. This was most obviously a place people would come when they did not want to be found.

One such a person was sitting toward the back of the room. He was young and slender with thick closely cropped black hair and ice blue eyes. He may have been considered attractive or even beautiful at one time, but a hard life had left it’s marks on the his fine face and left him looking harsh and older than he should. As a shadow obscured what light had actually managed to find its way to that back corner, the youth did not even look up before he said, "Spill it, old man. You were the one who wanted to meet, not me. You’ll just be lucky if I don’t kill you where you stand."

A cackling laugh sounded briefly before a voice said, "Patience one must have, if goals one is to reach." Yoda sat down across from the young man. "Drink, of what kind, having you?" he inquired in his most placating voice.

"Just a beer and quit stalling. You have five minutes to tell me why you wanted to meet. Last time we were rather interrupted, shall we say, before you got to make your point. This is your last chance…"

Yoda gazed evenly at the young man, then shook his head sadly and sighed, "Much patience you still need to learn."

"Patience! The Jedi killed my younger brother and you want to talk to me about patience?!" Keagan whispered harshly as he leaned across the table toward the misshapen old man.

"No!" Yoda said as he emphatically banged his hand against the table. "That is what I am here to tell you. Killed your brother the Jedi did not! Work of one man it was, Quentin Jinn!"

"Xan had nothing but good things to say about Jinn. He idolized him. From what he said, Jinn did not seem the type to…"

"Jealous Jinn was," Yoda cut him off, narrowing his eyes and Keagan had the unsettling feeling he was being scrutinized and that all his thoughts were being lain bare before his adversary. "Past his prime Jinn is. Outlived his usefulness, he knew. Xanatos groomed to take his place, he was. Jinn knew this. Jinn killed your brother before rest of Jedi could stop him!"

"Why are you telling me this?" Keagan asked, something about all of this was not sitting at all well with the young man. "What’s in it for you, old man?"

"Proposal, I have. Join forces we should. Two gangs one will become and city we will rule. Leader of both gangs I will be!" Yoda said as he sat back and lowered his eyelids slightly waiting for the young man to respond.

Keagan sat silently for a while contemplating the proposal and finally said, "What’s in it for me?"

"Hand you man who killed your brother I can. Tell you where Jedi are, not far away I think he is. Your word you will give, not to attack Jedi. Clues to finding Jinn I will give you."

Keagan looked at Yoda and tried to assess the situation, but his expression was as blank and unreadable as if he just proposed they swap motorcycle tips sometime. "Deal!" he said at length and shook Yoda’s hand to seal it. "Who of your goons knows you’re here?"

"None. Sent Mace on information gathering mission, I have. Let me off here, as I would not be in the way, I told him. Not stupid Mace is, he may already suspect merger I propose, but Jinn’s part of it, he knows nothing of."

Keagan got the information on where the Jedi were located from Yoda and left. He still had a bad feeling about all of this, but he was now one step closer to finding the man who killed Xanatos and that was all that mattered.

 

 

The cheery morning sunlight flooded through the window in Ben’s room creeping onto the bed where the two forms lay pressed against one another. Ben was still in that wonderful state between dreams and full wakefulness where problems can’t find you. He absently noted that his back was pressed to something. That something was starting to go from wonderfully warm to uncomfortably hot as the blanket soaked in the sunlight. "I will have to teach Tavi not to sleep so close," he thought absently to himself as he felt the dream world beckon him again.

The next thought that crossed his mind jarred him awake. The form behind him was spooned up behind him and not sleeping back to back with him as his dog was wont to do. Then the memories started to flood back to him: the kiss, the panic, the confession, and then the next kiss. He did not remember much that happened after that. He supposed he exhausted himself and passed out. But how did he end up under the blanket? He reached tentatively back and his hand came in contact with what was definitely a human leg. "How did I end up in bed with Quentin?"

Ben then ran his hand down his own body and discovered that he was still fully clothed. He breathed a sigh of relief and started when he heard and felt a chuckle against his ear. "You give me so little credit as to think that the moment you were asleep I took the opportunity to ravage you," the voice was teasing and still heavy with sleep. "Or that if I did, you would sleep through it!"

"No," Ben admitted sheepishly but still made no attempt to move. Now that initial shock had worn off he had to admit he was not all that inclined to move out of the gentle embrace. Quentin’s proximity and the general feeling of comfort were starting to affect Ben. A warm flush was travelling through his body and he felt a twitch in his almost perpetually flaccid penis. The traitorous organ was beginning to fill out and lengthen within the confines of his trousers causing them to start to tent out in front in what would be a most embarrassing way. Ben was torn between being thrilled and mortified that the closeness of another person could have such a reaction in him. He snuggled closer to Quentin in hopes of both hiding his own arousal and soaking in some more of the warmth. He was solid and very real and Ben could feel his own heart pounding.

Quentin pulled Ben in closer to his body, as he felt him relax, and then started to place small kisses against the side of Ben’s neck. He heard the younger man gasp and then moan, as he found a particularly sensitive spot right behind Ben’s ear. He began to nibble and suck slightly on the spot, as he monitored Ben’s reactions for any sign of discomfort.

Ben let his eyelids close lightly, as he felt the wonderfully wet and tingling sensation radiate from his neck and down his limbs. He couldn’t move now if he wanted to. He heard himself making small whimpering, almost needy sounds and felt his cock lengthen even more. The suction then increased almost to the point of pain. Ben gasped and felt his head tip back of its own accord to rest on Quentin’s chest. Then the wonderfully torturous mouth left his neck.

Ben was lost in sensation he had never felt before. The tingling had spread throughout his body now and he was almost desperate to get Quentin to continue what he had started. "Has anyone told you just how beautiful you are?" he felt the warm air tickle his ear as Quentin whispered to him.

"N-no?" Ben breathed, not daring to open his eyes for fear that the whole scene would be shattered.

"You are… You are so beautiful," Quentin continued, as he leaned further over Ben and punctuated his words with soft kisses to the side of his neck and face. "So generous… So kind… So intelligent…"

Ben let a small laugh escape, "Intelligent?"

"Don’t laugh, being intelligent is a very good thing…" Quentin then cupped his hand under Ben’s chin and guided him to turn so he could look at his face. When he looked down into Ben’s angelic visage and his eyes met those startling grey-green ones, he felt a momentary surge of anger toward Ben’s abusers but quickly quelled it. "Ben, you are a bright, witty and beautiful young man, and deserving of everything that life has to offer. Don’t ever let anyone tell you otherwise." Quentin leaned down and captured Ben’s mouth in a deep kiss.

Ben wanted nothing more than to lose himself inside that kiss, but a chance sidelong glance at the clock on his nightstand told him otherwise. He pulled away and said, "Oh, d-damn! I’m going to be late for work." Ben placed one more chaste kiss upon Quentin’s mouth and gently extricated himself from his arms. He sat on the edge of the bed and flushed red as he looked down at himself.

His shirt was un-tucked, rumpled and the fabric seemed to be abrading his nipples. His erection was almost flush against his stomach, was aching and had caused a rather nasty wet spot on the front of his trousers. "Quentin, c-could you please let the dogs out? I need t-to take a shower," he said over his shoulder, as he got up and gingerly started to make his way to the bathroom.

Just after Ben left the room Quentin pulled the pillow out from underneath his head and placed it directly over his own face before he let out a long, now muffled, scream. "He’s going to be the death of me!" he thought.

As Ben stepped into the bathroom, he closed the door and locked it. He turned the taps up as far as they’d go and then twisted the knob that brought the shower to life. As the steam filled the small area, Ben took off his shirt, trousers and underwear and breathed a small sigh of relief that he no longer felt so confined. He stepped into the tub and stood directly under the shower’s stinging spray. He tried his best to will away the turgid column of flesh rising out of the nest of curls at the base of his torso. When that didn’t seem to work; he thought perhaps if he just ignored it, it would just go away.

He grabbed for the bar of soap and lathered up his hands and started to run them over his sparsely haired chest. He hissed when they made contact with his sensitive nipples and he found his hips jerked forward slightly of their own volition under the stimulation. He tentatively swirled the tip of his index finger around his right nipple and the smallish bud peaked further and sent a jolt of sensation right to his groin. As he repeated the action on his left nipple, he let his right hand snake down his torso and wrap around his stiff member, slowly beginning to glide up and down.

He felt his mouth go slack and his eyes start to roll back ever so slightly as the sensation his hands were creating started to build. He tipped his head back and arched his back ever so slightly to maintain his balance as the feeling of it buffeted him. He started to think about Quentin and how much he wanted it to be those large and callused hands that were right now playing with his nipples and cock. Slowly his hips started to move and the hand encircling the overheated column sped up. Ben thought about how he would like to feel what it would be like to have that large solid frame over him, on top of him, holding him down and safe. Those hands and how they would caress him as if he were a treasured prize. He could hear the grunts and moans Quentin would make as he ground against Ben and whispered to him in that low husky voice. Ben could feel his hand and hips speed up one more notch. Before he knew what hit him, he felt like his entire being was suddenly thrust forward and his knees buckled slightly. He used the back of his hand to stifle a scream as he came.

He leaned against the wall panting and slowly as he came back to himself, he waited for it. For the sudden waive of nausea or the stinging blow. Nothing happened. He could almost have laughed, were it not for the still lingering dread that he had done something wrong. He focussed instead on what Quentin had said to him about being normal and deserving of all the wonderful things life had to offer him. He was still not sure if he believed those words, but with Quentin with him he was starting to believe anything was possible.

He quickly wiped down the shower wall of any sign of his previous activities and shut the water off. He wrapped a towel around his waist and headed back to his bedroom to get dressed for work. He was all at once relieved and a bit saddened that Quentin had already vacated the room. He quickly got ready, checked the time once more, swore under his breath and headed up the hall to the kitchen.

Quentin stood in, or rather dominated, the small space as he looked into the refrigerator. "Hullo, Ben, what would you like to eat?" he said as he smiled and closed the door.

"Um, nothing… I-I am late and have to go. B-be here when I get b-back?" Ben said as he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around the taller man and craned his neck to reach for a kiss.

Quentin leaned down slightly and kissed him. "Count on it," he murmured.

As Ben turned to go, Quentin caught him by the arm and said, "Ben, wait!"

"Really, I-I can’t stop right now," he said as he pulled his arm away and continued toward the door.

"Ben you might want to…" Quentin’s voice was beginning to develop a pleading edge.

"I can’t, but I p-promise later," Ben said as he walked out the door.

"I just thought he’d like to know that he had a rather obvious love bite on the side of his neck… But, oh well," Quentin said as he turned and looked at the dogs. "His choice…" The dogs wagged their tails and waited for him to re-open the refrigerator door.

 

CH 12

 

Mace looked over the assembled crowd with suspicious disbelief. There were two distinct groups formed out of the assembly. The smaller, was his comrades in arms, his fellow Jedi. The other was the vastly more numerous rival gang, the Sith. He had a very bad feeling about this.

When Yoda had told him about the pending amalgamation of the two gangs, he had advised that they wait for Jinn to return to make their final decision. "Final, the decision is, Mace," the old man said. "My own council I will keep on what is best for the Jedi." Mace had no choice to accept what he now saw, but he could not help thinking what he was witnessing was the beginning of the destruction of the Jedi.

Even a quick head count let him know they were out-numbered by at least three to one. The Sith seemed to be everywhere in the back of the warehouse they had chosen for the meeting. They lined up along the large shipping crates and leaned disinterestedly against grey metal walls. The Jedi, for their part, showed no fear, but all of them could feel even the eyes of those still hidden between the tall wooden crates, peering at them and sizing them up. "Like lambs to a slaughter…" Mace thought.

Not only were they more numerous but they were also, on the whole, younger and had the reputation of being more brutal than any other gang. The Jedi had been responsible for their fair share of bodies turning up, but some of the things the Sith did, made Mace’s blood run cold. They weren’t into order at all, or that killing only happens to maintain gang law. They mutilated, rendered, tortured and destroyed. And they loved doing it. They were anarchy, the new breed of terror roaming the street. These were lean, remorseless psychopaths, as far as Mace was concerned.

One in particular caught his attention when they first arrived and his steely gaze would settle on him from time to time. There was something not quite "all there" looking about that boy. He was small, sharp featured with his head shaved bald. A fine lattice spider web tattoo covered most of his face, successfully obscuring what he really looked like. It was his eyes that bothered Mace the most. They seemed to be almost amber with an unnatural fire behind them. Those eyes seemed to bore right into him and Mace got the uneasy feeling he was being watched by something not entirely human.

The room was humming with private, murmured conversations between the members of the two gangs, but a hush fell over the room when Yoda and Keagan took their places in front of the assembled crowd and Yoda held his hands up to gain everyone attention. "Glorious day this is for Jedi and Sith. Long we have fought, our powers divided. Waste of time and skill this was, now together, stronger we will be." The members of both gangs just stared back at him.

Keagan broke in at this point, "This is no time to be cryptic, there, Yoda. What the old man means is that with our strength and speed and their cunning and knowledge… We’re going to totally RULE this place! With their brains and our power no cop, prosecutor or fucking judge will ever be able to touch us again!" As his small speech had progressed, Keagan had become more animated and when he ended on the final triumphant, the Sith erupted in a raucous explosion of hooting and banging on the sides of the crates. The Jedi still remained motionless and passive looking. But Mace noted something he had not seen before in all their eyes. Fear.

After the impromptu gathering had mostly broken up and the Sith once again slunk back into the shadows from which they seemed to manifest, mace too the opportunity to speak to Yoda somewhat out of the earshot of the others. "Yoda, if I may speak freely? I don’t like this situation you have us in at all! The Sith have no more respect for you, the Jedi or an alliance than they ever have. You are leading us into the dragon’s lair and I don’t like it."

"All you have to say to me it is, Mace? Forget yourself, you do. Control the Jedi I do, what I say goes. If not like it, you do, option to leave is yours. Wished to leave, also did Xanatos!" Yoda huffed at him while hobbling down from the platform.

"Of course I don’t wish to leave, Yoda. I just wish you would listen to my council or wait for Jinn to return. He has dealt with the Sith before, he know their motives." Mace tried to reason.

"Proved where his loyalty lies, Quentin Jinn has," Yoda said, banging his cane against the floor. "Gone, he is. No more loyalty we need show him!"

"Jinn is their primary target and he came with us last time we went to face them! At great risk to himself! What he did was for the best for all of us, he wanted to divert their attention away…"

"A coward and traitor now he is. No more will the Jedi protect him!"

"What have you done, old man? How does Jinn figure into this?"

"Concern of yours, Quentin Jinn is no longer. Best it is if you forget you knew the name, Mace. Closed, now all discussion is on this matter. Final is my decision!" Yoda turned his back on Mace and continued on his way.

Mace spared a glance back at the Jedi still assembled, everything in his mind was telling him to run and let chips fall where they may. But looking into the faces of his colleagues, no, his friends of the past 20 years made his heart tell him otherwise. It may be a fool’s errand and a suicide mission. But he knew he had to protect them, even if it meant giving up his own life to do it.

He saw Yoda just up ahead talking to Keagan and that startling young man he had taken note of earlier. He jogged over to catch up with what was happening. "Ah, Mace, good it is you joined us. Telling our young friends I was about your misgivings of our new union!" Yoda said as he pulled himself to a stop, "Question your loyalty we all do."

"You have nothing to question; my loyalty is still with the Jedi. It always will be," he said with some indignation.

"Good to hear, that is! Met before you have Keagan, meet now his chief enforcer Maul," Yoda said in a conversational tone.

Mace grunted slightly and put his hand out to shake. Keagan just looked at the proffered limb as if something horribly distasteful had been laid before him, but Maul seized his hand and squeezed it until Mace heard several knuckles pop slightly under the strain. He looked into Maul’s face and saw the inhuman amber gaze he noted before. Maul smiled slightly, if that what it could be called. It had much the same unsettling effect as a corpse’s grimace or the snarl of a feral beast. It was anything but the usual sign of amity and greeting it was supposed to be.

"Coming back with us they are, Mace" Yoda said, leaving no room for argument. Mace knew what he had to do. When they got back he would have to find a way to sneak out from under watchful eyes and find Jinn. He would know what to do.

Ben sighed inwardly and shifted his weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other watching what was left of the library patrons browse in and out of the stacks. He wished they would all just go home so he could leave too. He scratched at an odd irritation on the side of his neck and wondered what was causing it. Maybe a slight rash from the new detergent he bought, he decided. Well back to the old brand next time. He would just have to leave the "new and improved" tabs alone.

He looked again at the patrons and tried to will them all to leave then he sunk into just occupying his mind with what he had been thinking about all day. Quentin. Those azure eyes… That lean form… Ben shifted again uncomfortably and flushed slightly. Oh, this would just not do. Okay, no more thinking of Quentin in public. Back to contemplating the annoying itch for a while.

The day had never gone by slower for Ben while he was in his beloved library. Usually he found solace and escape in her many volumes and the work he loved so much, but today he kept looking back in at the wall mounted clock in his office. The minutes seemed to drag by as he anticipated, for what seemed the first time, going home at the end of the day. There was no question of if or when this time, Quentin was waiting for him there. This thought caused Ben to bounce slightly on the balls of his feet.

He tried to hide the enthusiasm he felt, but guessed he was failing miserably. Several people had gazed steadily at him today, where usually they were now given to trying to not make direct eye contact with the young man, as it made him nervous. Many more seemed to want to say or ask him something, but then thought the better of it. When he had arrived for his shift, Mrs. Flynn had stared openly at him and asked, "Ben, luv, is there anything you wish to tell me. You have… Well… You look… You seem different."

He wanted to shout it at the top of his lungs. I am different. For the first time in my life I am not ashamed in who I am and I have someone who understands me. He felt giddy and light headed and like he had not felt in a long time. He almost felt like engaging some of the regulars in conversation. Almost. He still could not bring himself to make the next leap and do it.

One by one the late crowd filed out until only one lone straggler was left. Finally, he spied Kyle, a top student from the area secondary school, approaching the counter with his usual armload of books.

The teenager walked up to the counter balancing the stack of books precariously and trying to keep his eyes discretely from Ben’s direct gaze. As Ben one by one signed out the books the boy tried to look around until his eyes fell on the reddish patch on Ben’s neck. "Whoa, dude, I didn’t know you had a girlfriend!" he said before he thought the better of it.

Ben flushed crimson to the roots of his hair and stammered out "I-I…. wh-what would m-make you s-say that?" He knew it; his body language had given him away.

"I am sorry, Ben. I didn’t mean to say anything. I guess I was just surprised when I saw your neck!" Kyle said somewhat apologetically. It was obvious he had startled and flustered Ben, who dropped the book he was holding and held his hand up to the mark on his neck.

"R-really… I th-think it’s j-just a rash…" Ben tried to explain as he felt the heat still rising in his face and his pulse was causing the slight swelling on his neck to sting a bit.

Kyle looked at him doubtfully and said, "Well, you have every right to keep what you do in your off hours to yourself, but I would get that rash looked at if I were you. For a moment there I swore it looked like one monster of a hickey!"

After the teen had left, Ben went into the men’s washroom to take a look in the mirror. He approached the pristine white sink basin with caution and peered at his reflection in the industrial grade mirror behind it. He tilted his head to the side and looked at the angry purple mark on his neck. He hoped that it was only the horrible greenish hue from the fluorescent lighting that made it seem to stand out so prominently from the ivory column of his throat. Somehow he also doubted it.

It was too high on his neck for him to raise his shirt collar to cover it, so he guessed he would have to pass it off as a bruise if anyone else asked. He also now knew just what everyone had been staring at all day. He left the washroom and headed back to the desk painfully aware, embarrassed and just a little angry.

He was thankfully still alone as he took his seat behind the desk. He ran his finger again over the slight swelling, he was definitely going to have to have words with Quentin when he got home and they just might have to be about leaving marks on him where people could see. His finger slowed unconsciously to a lazy circle around the area as he thought, "A mark. His mark. Quentin’s mark right there for everyone to see." A tiny thrill ran through his body as the realisation hit. Quentin had marked him. The thought was simultaneously alarming and incredibly arousing. He had been wandering around all day with the brand of his first lover. But Quentin was not his lover. Well, yet, or would he be? This was a possibility that was just starting to sink in for Ben. Could he take Quentin as a lover?

The question seemed ludicrously simple and profoundly complex all at once to him. Physically, he knew he could, in theory, take Quentin as his lover. It could really be that simple. Stop by the pharmacy on the way home, get lubricant and condoms and then throw caution to the wind. It would at least give everyone something to talk about for the next while, and judging by the twitch in his nether regions, some part of him obviously liked that thought quite a bit. He had to admit that he had been thinking about just such a thing in some way since that first night that he happened upon Quentin in the park. There was something mysterious and exciting about him. He seemed somehow dangerous and yet had proven himself to be anything but. Ben felt safe around him, and therein was Ben’s problem.

Why did he feel so comfortable around him? Ben had had problems trusting people most of his life, and yet almost immediately he felt at home with this man. It didn’t make sense. And what about that dream he had? Was he really so afraid already of losing Quentin already, that he had to dream up some sort of violent end to him. He knew nothing about Quentin, past their interactions with each other. To all intents and purposes, Ben should not even be considering now taking him as his lover. His first and only lover. But still, there was something about Quentin that was comforting. There was a something about his eyes, which made Ben feel like perhaps he was a part of some sort of long forgotten memory.

Ben smiled, that was just silly. "There you go again," he thought. "Over thinking and analysing everything. Just this once relax and enjoy yourself."

He tried to clear his mind of all the noise and just focus on what was important, the very next step he should take. Unbidden the picture of Quentin sprang back into his mind. His warm eyes and smile seemed just as inviting. Ben wanted to just lose himself there.

The end of his shift finally came and Ben locked up the building and practically sprinted the distance between the library and his small house. He had just put the key in the door when he heard a loud crash, cursing and a dog yelp. When he opened the door he was greeted with the sight of Quentin standing in the kitchen wearing only Ben’s bit too small bathrobe, alternating between waving his one hand around furiously and sucking on his index finger. Tavi and Nanuk were sitting a safe distance away in the living room with their tails between their legs.

When they saw the door open fully, they bounded toward the door and knocked Ben backward into the snow bank just behind the step, licking his face and wagging furiously. Ben finally managed to extricate himself from the dogs and walked into the house, laughing and brushing the snow from his jacket. Quentin met him just inside the front room and folded Ben into a tight hug, which seemed to Ben to have the ulterior motive of keeping him from looking in the kitchen. "Welcome home, Ben. Please don’t mind the mess," Quentin chuckled. His mouth then sought Ben’s and captured it in a searching kiss. The world seemed to melt away. Ben had wanted to say something to Quentin, he was sure of it. He just could not bring himself to remember or care what that was.

CH 13

Quentin finally broke the kiss and released Ben’s mouth with a slight groan. Partially because it always left him feeling a little bereft when he had to let Ben go, but also because the kiss bought him a few more precious seconds before Ben saw the kitchen. If there was one thing Quentin had discovered while in the house all day, it was that his young companion tended to like order and was fastidiously tidy. If Quentin didn’t know better, he would swear that no one lived there at all beyond the two dogs; who, like all of their species, seemed to revel in throwing the occasional stone into the otherwise placid pond, by leaving a chew toy here or hopping up onto the freshly plumped cushions of the chesterfield to nap.

Books were neatly displayed on bookcases, all spines facing outward and he was now almost positive they were ordered in some form of the Dewey Decimal System. He could not help but smile. Patterns were used sparingly as were any bric-a-brac. This was not to say that the house was cold or stringent in any way. The colours chosen were warm and the comfortable furniture was inviting. It was just that the air of the place felt more like a showcase to interior design or the home of someone used to keeping up a front.

It was nothing at all like the places he was used to living in for the past several decades. Those places were usually dank, cold and filthy, and Quentin was trying very hard not to get used to this. As much as he hated it, he knew he would most likely have to leave. The Jedi would most certainly never let him out alive.

Leaving this place would also mean leaving Ben, and Quentin felt his heart constrict at the thought. As much as he would most likely not be able to stay, he could even less imagine Ben reconciling himself to life with the Jedi and the Jedi, with the exception of Mace, would never get past the concept that Jinn’s old lady was another man. It should not be so hard to leave Ben; he hadn’t known the young man for that long. Yet, there was something about him that stirred in Quentin what seemed to be the misty memory of a thousand pleasant afternoons.

Perhaps it was the colour of his hair, like the warm light the day takes on, after the harshness of the midday sun has passed and the whole world has seemed to fall into the mellowness of the frantic morning being over, when they could return to their homes and loved ones. Or perhaps it was those eyes, which seemed to shift and change with each new light or emotion. One minute looking green as the sun dappled leaves and grass, the next grey as a stormy day and the next blue and clear as the sky. He could not recall ever having seen eyes like these anywhere else, but when he looked into them, he could not shake the feeling that he had gazed into them untold times before. With his charming smile, volatile moods and dry sense of humour. Ben had become the first person he felt completely at home with. For the first time since he left Ireland, he had finally found home.

"Quentin, what is it? You look about a m-million miles away," Ben said, cocking one eyebrow and looking up at the taller man, but not breaking the embrace.

"It’s nothing." He said as he smiled and kissed Ben again.

This time Ben broke the kiss. "I get the distinct f-feeling you are stalling," he laughed and stepped out of the embrace to continue on his way to the kitchen. Quentin winced slightly as he saw Ben round the corner and stop dead in his tracks. He watched as Ben’s arms went lax against his sides and his mouth opened and closed a couple of times but no sound at all come out of it.

He walked slowly toward Ben, biding his time, waiting for the initial shock of seeing the kitchen to wear off. He came up behind the younger man and wrapped his arms around the slender, if somewhat rigid form. In his opinion, it was really not as bad as it looked. None of it was permanent and it really only *looked* like he had managed to use every dish in the place.

Nanuk slunk around the corner and back into the kitchen. He slowly approached the overturned casserole dish in the middle of the neatly tiled floor. Tavi then deemed it safe to return to the kitchen as well, her heavily plodding gait rhythmically tapped out by her toenails against the tile. She gave the overturned dish wide berth, sniffed the air and plunked down on the floor, her wide back against the furthest cabinets from the mess. Nanuk then took a cautious lick at the spilled contents of the dish, yelped and backed up making small snorting sounds, his tongue licking wildly on either side of his nose. "I guess I made it a bit spicy," Quentin said under his breath.

He felt the smaller man relax against him and begin to shake. He heard the soft chuckling start in Ben and slowly it got louder. "Well, I never claimed to be a good cook…" Quentin murmured, dipping his head down slightly to place a kiss in Ben’s spiky hair.

"It’s a g-good thing… Your food has just been rejected by a critic who has b-been known to eat garbage, insects and random bits of fluff off the floor…" Ben choked out, the tears of merriment starting to well up in his eyes.

"I think I have just been very insulted, "Quentin laughed. "Well I did TRY and it is the thought that counts!"

"Hmmmm Then perhaps I should start to rethink m-my affection for you, seeing as you obviously d-dislike me…Hey!" Ben yelped as Quentin gave him a sharp but not overly painful swat on the backside and then turned the younger man around to face him, placing his hands heavily on Ben’s shoulders.

"You, my young friend, are a brat…" he laughed, pulled Ben in by the shoulders and kissed him again. This time Quentin let himself glide into Ben’s mouth and tease the other man’s lax tongue into the light dance at which he was becoming very good. He closed his eyes and slid his hands down from Ben’s shoulders; down his sides and round to cup the very same rear he had only moments before offended. He felt and heard Ben gasp slightly though his nose as Quentin, with a sudden hunger to continue what had been started that morning, used his purchase on the young man’s ass to pull his hips in close. He felt Ben’s whole body stiffen and then relax as he got used to the feeling of the body pressed so intimately against his own.

"He’s not running, nor pushing me away. This has got to be a good sign," Quentin thought as he felt Ben’s hips start to slowly start to grind against him and eventually pick up a rhythm of their own accord. He drank from Ben like a parched man. He laughed inwardly at himself, feeling very much the virgin in this situation as he felt his body start to hum with an anticipatory vibration. Truth was, no matter how he felt, he was not the virgin in this situation and he had just started to get concerned about how Ben was handling this new situation, when his fears were waylaid.

He felt Ben’s body start to respond against him. The younger man’s body temperature was increasing dramatically and the unmistakable heat of the other man’s hardness was currently pressing into his upper thigh. He could hear muted whimpers and moans escaping from one of them, though he did not know for the life of him which one. Quentin let his eyes slide completely shut as he felt his partner’s one arm snake up to rest on top of his shoulder while his other hand crawled down in a familiar path.

Quentin’s eyes shot open and reality came crashing back in when he felt Ben’s warm dry fingers made tentative contact with the heated column of flesh rising out of the nest of curls at his groin. He was currently standing in the middle of a kitchen-cum-disaster zone wearing the other man’s bathrobe while his own clothes were in the wash. Something about all of this was so very wrong, this was going to be the first time Ben was intimate with anyone period and he deserved better than a quick grope in the kitchen like a couple of horny teenagers.

Quentin moved Ben back a bit, who whimpered at the loss of contact. He broke the kiss to whisper, "Not yet, not here…" Ben nodded, and shrugged slightly.

"I suppose you’re right," he said matter of factly, turning away from Quentin to survey the room once more.

"What I was figuring," Quentin started as he wrapped his arms around Ben’s waist again and started to run his beard very lightly up the side of the smaller man’s neck, "was that if both of us clean up in here, the sooner that it would get done, the sooner we could get some food into you and the sooner we could retire… somewhere… more… comfortable …" he punctuated his last couple of words with lingering kisses on the side of Ben’s neck, reawakening that morning’s love bite.

"Hmmmmmm… What makes you think I should help in here? I didn’t create this mess."

"Because the longer it takes me to clean up, the longer it will take for us to go find that comfortable place."

Ben sighed. "I will get the mop…"

As they worked and then later ate, Ben put together a new and simple meal, Quentin regaled his young companion with some of the more humorous anecdotes from his childhood. Ben listened attentively, his eyes sparkling.

"And so- BAM! The trap sprung," he dramatised his words by bringing his hands crashing together, fingers intertwined, mimicking a great set of jaws snapping shut, "and while the fox would be safe for another night, I on the other hand nearly found myself permanently made a member of the boys’ choir…"

Ben choked slightly, then hastily swallowed, at the image that conjured up. "Well, I, for one, am glad the t-trap missed!"

"That makes two of us," chuckled Quentin. "But I tell you what, Farmer O’Connor didn’t see it that way. He frog marched me straight back to the church and told Father Hanlon that I aught to be punished for trespassing and perhaps costing him a lamb to the fox.

The good father, of course, told the farmer that I would be punished as he saw fit. I ended out only having to clean some in the parochial house, which was part of my chores anyway, for trespassing. As far as the sabotaging of the fox traps, that went unpunished. He most likely would have done the same thing at my age."

"He would?" asked Ben, leaning forward slightly in his chair.

"Oh, aye, he taught me the most important lessons I ever learned. He would say things like ‘Quentin, lad, never act out of fear or anger because decisions made in fired up haste always turn out badly’ or ‘You can’t change the past, nor predict the future. The only actions that are worth anything are those of the present’. He also believed that nothing and no one deserves to suffer and so the thought of that fox, trapped by it’s leg and waiting, mad with pain, possibly hours to die was something that neither of us could tolerate," Quentin said as he sat back a bit from the table staring down at his plate but not really seeing it.

There was a long silence which Ben finally broke, "He sound l-like a good man."

"One of the best."

"Do you miss him?"

"Every day," as Quentin said this his voice dropped again and another silence began. He could feel the younger man’s steady gaze on him even though he was not saying a word. This was not the direction Quentin had wanted the evening to go in and soon shook out of his reverie and smiled at Ben. "All we have is the now."

He watched as Ben swallowed convulsively and began to blush. He could see the war which still raged behind the younger man’s eyes; the guilt mixed with lust and uncertainty. Then, his eyes were resolute and calm; a decision had been reached.

Ben stood slowly and crossed the short distance and straddled his lap so they were face to face. "I want you," came the simple statement punctuated with a soft kiss to his lips.

Quentin was taken a bit back by the sudden and brash move and winced a bit as Ben put pressure on the not yet healed wound on his leg, but he was not going to complain, "Are you sure? I mean just yesterday you…"

"I thought you said that the only actions are those here and now. Yesterday seems very far away to me now. I am so tired of fighting all my yesterdays. I don’t know how long our time together will be and just once I want to know what it feels like to have a lover." Ben kissed the older man’s forehead and the bump on his nose, where it had been broken and badly healed.

"What about the dishes?" Quentin whispered and tried to capture Ben’s mouth, but the smaller man evaded him and buried his face against his neck and began to tenderly nuzzle it.

"They can wait." He wondered how Ben could seem so calm at this moment when his own heart felt like it was going hammer straight through his chest.

"I am sorry to ask this again, but are you absolutely positive?"

Ben laughed against Quentin’s neck, the small, warn puffs of air causing a wonderful frisson to travel down his long body, "I have never been more sure of anything in all my life."

Quentin wrapped his arms around the trim waist and pulled Ben fully to him. As soon as they made contact, even through the layers of fabric, he could feel that same warm current which seemed to travel between them. Ben tilted his head back up and their mouths met in a deep and hungry kiss, both of them pouring years of longing into every movement. He slid his arms more fully around the young man’s waist and clung to him as if his life depended on it and Ben, in turn, brought his arms up and wrapped them around broad shoulders, the evidence of his arousal prodding into the older man’s taught abdomen. "What about the dogs?" Quentin asked, breaking the kiss.

Ben laughed again, "You would have to reserve enough of your rational mind right now! I can’t think at all. Let them back in from the yard and I will wait for you in my room." He got up from Quentin’s lap and walked toward his room. Quentin hastened to let in the dogs and join him.

When he walked into Ben’s room, he breath caught for a moment. The warm glow from the bedside lamp played against Ben. He had removed his glasses and necktie and the look he gave him had none of the frightened youth of not long ago. Before him now was an indescribably beautiful young man who looked so certain and self-assured. It was like Ben had left and was replaced by someone else, a confidant echo of a former self. Perhaps this is what he had looked like when he was still very young, before it all happened. Even as the thought came to him, Quentin pushed it back down. He would not lose his confidence now.

He shut the door and crossed the room to where Ben stood. He pulled the young man into a fierce embrace and started to almost devour the delectable mouth before him.

Ben’s certain, but still very untutored, touches served to enflame him even more. He knew that, like kissing, he would become more practiced and confident at it all too soon. For now, it let Quentin know that he was the first that the young man had ever allowed himself to touch like this. He was still discovering new places and sensations. Quentin couldn’t help but feel like he was being catalogued like a new book. For now the most important parts summarized and filed away for future reference. HE was quite sure though that no book felt the pleasure of being delicately manipulated by those slender and warm hands.

Quentin backed Ben toward the bed, stopping only when the backs of his companion's legs came into contact with it. He broke the kiss to make sure one last time. "Are you absolutely positive?"

"Yes! I am! Ask again and…" came the panted, mock irate reply. Ben’s eyes looked impossibly large with his pupils fully dilated. His mouth was red and starting to bruise and a flush had crept into his cheeks. He looked fully debauched already. Quentin decided he liked that look most of all. He lowered Ben onto the bed, face up, and started to undo the topmost buttons of his shirt.

"I want you to promise me that if anything I do makes you uncomfortable or at any time you feel less certain you want this, you will tell me to stop. There is no point of no return in this." As he’d been talking, he’d finished unbuttoning the shirt and slid his hand under it and started to caress the young man’s taut nipple with the pad of his thumb.

"Yes! I promise" came the hissed reply. Quentin took this as a very good sign and pulled his hand back out from under the fabric and started to push the garment off its owner’s shoulders. Ben raised himself slightly and allowed the shirt to be pushed down over his arms, exposing his chest to the older man’s hungry gaze. Quentin looked at the well-defined but not overly muscled torso before him. Creamy and sparsely covered with hair, a taut abdomen and well-proportioned chest. He leaned down and licked in a deliciously slow circle around one of the peaked, rosy nipples, eliciting a gasp from the young man.

"You are so beautiful," he murmured against the young man’s sternum as he used his tongue to paint a wet trail from the first nipple to its twin, which he bit lightly and then fastened his lips over and sucked. Hard. Ben howled and tried to grasp the older man’s shoulders only to find the shirt still trapped beneath him had effectively bound his arms. Quentin finally released his prize and laved it lightly to soothe it. He undid the cuffs of the shirt and allowed the younger man to rise slightly while he finished removing it.

The two of them then moved so Ben’s head rested on his pillows and Quentin could continue his exploration without the fear of one or both of them toppling off the bed entirely. He ran his fingers down the young man’s flat abdomen lightly enough to causing him to gasp and start to squirm from the ticklish sensation. He watched Ben’s expressive face try and convey many emotions at once. His eyes did not seem to be focussing in any one place anymore and his brow was creased in mock concentration. Ben still did not seem to be too certain what to do with his hands and had settled on running random patterns over Quentin’s back and shoulders.

The older man caught one of the smaller more delicate hands in one of his own larger, calloused one and slowly manoeuvred it around to where his robe was still mostly folded closed. The lithe appendage slipped from his grasp and insinuated its way beneath the soft flannel. His mouth met Ben’s in another soul-searing kiss just before the young man’s fingertips found their goal and a moan escaped from deep within his chest.

He felt his nipple harden and peak under Ben’s light caress. Encouraged by the older man’s sounds of pleasure at the touch, Ben became more firm in the exploration, fondling and manipulating the hard numb with deft fingers and listening to the wonderful sounds this was eliciting.

Quentin used this opportunity to let his hand wander back down his companion’s torso and, with practiced ease, undid the belt and button of the young man’s trousers. Ben bucked suddenly and his eyes went impossibly wide as Quentin reached into the loosened waistband and wrapped his hand around his already rock-hard erection.

Ben flattened himself to the bed and squeezed his eyes tight shut, seemingly unable to move as Quentin pumped the turgid flesh in a lazy rhythm. "What do you want me to do now?" Quentin asked, looking into Ben’s face and watching it contort into a mask of fierce pleasure and lust. Ben could so no more than articulate a small grunt in response. If he was not careful, it would all be over too soon.

"Well then, I could do this," the older man continued in a light and teasing tone, but in a swift movement he was kneeling by Ben’s feet and had somehow managed to yank the young man’s trouser and underwear down on his journey, pulled them off fully and dropped them onto the floor. He removed Ben’s socks one by one and then lifted one foot so he could place a whiskery kiss against a ticklish instep, causing Ben to squirm again and to giggle a little. Quentin raked his eyes up the prepossessing form lying in the bed before him. Ben was even more captivating than could be imagined.

His limbs were long and slender, creamy skin was dusted lightly with freckles and out of the rust-coloured hair at his groin, his large sex curved up toward his belly. Quentin swallowed against his suddenly dry throat and felt the throb of his own erection become a little sharper. He took off the bathrobe he had borrowed.

As the material slipped from him, he felt slightly ashamed to be bared next to this living marble sculpture. What did Ben see when he looked at him? The hardness of his life was permanently painted into the very pores of his skin, but one look into Ben’s eyes told him he was very wrong. With his glasses off, Ben was seeing mostly the memory of Quentin asleep on the couch. His wild Celt warrior. His Irish King.

Ben sat up and pushed himself forward, his legs splayed on either side of Quentin’s knees. Both of them hissed when for the first time skin met skin and the electrical current sprang to new and demanding life. Ben ran a hand down Quentin’s hard chest and flat abdomen. Quentin felt tiny explosions go off in his mind as Ben leaned in and ran his tongue over the knot work tattoo adorning his chest and bringing his hard member in contact with the younger man. The knowledge that this was the painfully shy librarian who was right now tracing light patterns over the flesh and ink with his tongue and having his belly painted with a sticky trail of the older man’s precum, caused him to throw his head back and gasp.

Ben’s hand continued its journey down, missing the weeping erection pressed up against him and sliding sinuously down Quentin’s thigh instead. He pulled back and frowned slightly when his fingers touched the bandage still wrapped there. "Does it hurt?"

"A little, but I have had worse," Quentin gasped.

He pushed the young man back down flat to the bed and moved so his head was only inches away from Ben’s phallus. Slowly he took the swollen head into his mouth and ran his tongue up to press hard at the extremely sensitive spot just below it. He watched as Ben gasped and moaned and tried very hard to keep still and not buck up into the hot, wet sensation. He tasted the salt and musk of the other man’s arousal, but there was something else there, something uniquely Ben.

Quentin worked more of Ben’s heated length into his mouth and slowly started to bob his head working the swollen shaft in and out. If he thought the connection had been electric before, it was now practically overpowering. He could almost feel Ben’s thoughts and sensations. He knew just when and how to press and caress the other man with his tongue to provoke the best reactions.

Ben’s head thrashed wildly from side to side against the mattress and his moans became more impassioned and desperate. Too soon he was scrabbling for purchase on the older man’s shoulders and pushed him off slightly. "It’s too soon…"

"What do you want, Ben? Tell me," Quentin murmured against his lover’s hip.

"I want you to make love to me." It was a simple enough phrase, but if Quentin thought he was hard before, he was now almost in pain with the force of his own arousal.

"Are you really sure about that?" he asked, searching Ben’s face for hesitancy.

"Yes, I am. But I don’t h-have… anything so I guess we really can’t…" Ben’s voice trailed off.

"Let me show you something," Quentin, offered as he climbed up behind the smaller man. He positioned Ben’s body so he was almost rolled onto his stomach, his thighs were pressed close together and his buttocks were slightly raised. Quentin ran a hand down the young man’s back and over the swell of his rear, causing him to moan slightly and stiffen at the sensation. Quentin then positioned himself and slid his length between the slender thighs. He felt the hairs at the tops of Ben’s legs chaffing slightly but the perspiration slicked his way slightly. He pulled back and using his own hand and saliva, he coated his throbbing member for more lubrication. He slid back into place with more ease.

He started out with slow, long strokes between those thighs and when he heard Ben moan he quickened the pace a little. His erection rubbed wonderfully along the younger man’s perineum and up to the underside of his scrotum. Quentin leaned forward and moulded himself to Ben’s back. He saw the spot that he had marked earlier that morning and fastened his mouth over it, starting to suck on the already sensitive skin.

Ben was gasping and panting beneath him, but still had not told him to stop nor made any attempt to pull away. Quentin wrapped his hand around Ben’s erection and started to pump it in time to his strokes. He knew this could not last too long, they were both so close. He wanted to draw it out as much as possible, but the wonderful friction of Ben's leg hair, bordering on pain, would soon rub him raw. Just being near the young man, even in this capacity, was intoxicating.

All too soon he felt the familiar tightening in his begin in his balls. His hips lost rhythm as blind animal need took over and he humped against Ben with frightening ferocity. Ben was gasping and moaning under him and moving his own hips in time to the wild bucking of Quentin’s hips and the furious pumping of his fist. Quentin froze, as the entire world seemed to contract and then explode into a million different colours as he came between Ben’s thighs. Just after, he felt Ben shudder and heard him let out a stifled wail as the burst of hot liquid erupted over Quentin’s fist.

He pulled way from the young man just enough to help him turn around and get settled into his chest. They lay panting and entwined just sharing in that warmth when Ben said, "Please tell me that was real."

"It was. Very"

"Please tell me you’ll still be here tomorrow and not vanish like some phantom lover."

"I’ll be here… don’t worry about that…"

"Tell me everything is going to be okay…"

"Everything will be fine… I…" He almost said, "I love you" but stopped himself. No, he could not say that to the boy and then tie him forever emotionally like that. "I will never hurt you intentionally."

"Oh," came the soft reply and Quentin could swear that Ben sounded hurt. Soon his breathing evened out and Ben was asleep.

"It would not be fair to say things like that to him, give him false hope of a happily ever after," he thought to himself furiously. "How could you tell him something like that when you can’t even tell him about the explosion in the mall your lover at the time had you framed for? The look of disappointment on Father Hanlon’s face, the absolute shame when you decided to follow Mace here instead of turning yourself in and trusting that the truth would prevail? You can’t even tell him about how you managed to get here and how you failed to save the only boy you ever loved as a son. Oh, Xan, I miss you… You are hurt by or hurt everyone you love and you can’t tie Ben to you like that. He will find someone else in time. This is best…" Quentin fell into a fitful sleep.

Later that night, Ben began to dream. Again, he and Quentin were in it, only they were in a place he could not even begin to recognize. They were dressed strangely. They were both tired. Quentin was fighting and again Ben could not move. He saw a streak of black and suddenly it felt like a white-hot poker had been shoved through his chest. He tried to call out to Quentin, but he saw the tall man slump to the ground. Suddenly he could move. Time must have passed. He was cradling Quentin in his lap and crying. Quentin touched his cheek and the light faded from his eyes. A small, cold voice said, "Is your ineptitude going to kill him again?"

CH 14

"I have a bad feeling about this," Mace thought darkly, as he drew back the nicotine-and-age stained drapes in his room slightly to observe the two young men smoking out in the parking lot. From where he was he couldn’t tell what was being said. That it was outside in the middle of a frigid and windy night told him whatever it was, they were afraid of being overheard.

It had been bad enough to form an alliance with the once rival gang, but bringing those two out to the motel with them had set off every warning signal in Mace’s body. The changes in the hierarchy of the new gang were also none too subtle. While Yoda had never really listened to most of the counsel that Mace had given him over the years, preferring to stick to his own ideas unless he specifically asked for the opinions of others, he was now totally left out. As Keagan and that Maul creature spent hours holed up in Yoda’s room discussing heaven knows what. The longer they were there, the more Mace knew he would have to find Jinn. He was pretty sure that if it had been just Keagan with them, he could have arranged for the kid to meet with a "freak accident" of some sort and then try and talk sense into Yoda. But with Maul there he knew he needed help. There really was something not quite right about that kid.

Mace could not decide what unnerved him most about the punk gang member. He had an obsession with weaponry, as anyone who was unfortunate enough to try and start a conversation found out as they were quickly, and in his deceptively soft and gravely voice, introduced to his own private arsenal of hand guns, knives, razors and such. Some of it, he would proudly tell them, he had remodelled himself for optimum efficiency.

He would manage to appear out of the shadows just in time to question anything outside of their routine, answer a question before it was asked or report to Yoda anything that seemed like dissention in the ranks; like he had been able to divine just what they had been thinking long before they could say anything about it or act on it. But the last thing to consider was the look in that kid’s eyes; it was just plain murderous.

Killing, when necessary to protect the gang or enforce law, was one thing. He could not shake the feeling that this Maul would murder them all, Keagan included, if he was given half the chance. Those pale brown eyes, more amber coloured than anything, always gave Mace the unsettled feeling that he was staring directly into the pits of hell. The unnatural light behind them burned all the way to the back of your skull and left anyone who had every been fixed in one of his penetrating stares, feeling disoriented and not just a little violated.

Mace watched as Maul lifted the lit cigarette up to his mouth and inhaled. The young man stamped his feet a bit to stave off the cold of the December night air. He had been watching them every night to discern their habits. About an hour after everyone else had retired, they would go out for about half an hour to talk and then return to their room. Just once, and then they would not been seen until the next morning. Mace would watch for a while still and make positive they were well and truly inside for the night and then go off in his nightly search for Jinn.

He had been back and forth to the town he told Jinn about several times and still found no sign of him. It should have been difficult for anyone that large and conspicuous to just simply vanish, but he was very good at it when the need arose. Mace eavesdropped on conversations in bars, diners and doughnut shops hoping to glean even a little information that might lead him to his errant friend, but to no avail. He was almost desperate enough to start carrying a picture around and asking people, "Have you seen this man?" But he knew the likelihood was low. When Jinn did not want to be seen, he seemed to blend himself seamlessly into the crowd and vanish. Great if you are trying to outrun the authorities. Damn annoying if you’re the one trying to find him.

Tonight he would try looking in some of the smaller towns that surrounded the main one, but he knew his only hope lay in Jinn making one critical error and giving himself away, and the chances of that happening were about as likely as a snowstorm in July, but he had to hold out hope. "Please, old friend, we need you…"

When he was sure the coast was clear, he put on his helmet, he opened the door to his room and stepped out into the chill night air. He fought to not suck in his breath harshly as the icy wind stung his eyes through his open visor and his fingers stuck slightly to the outer doorknob of his room. He twisted the knob slightly so he could shut the door again as silently as possible. Once the door was shut he released the knob and furiously squeezed his one hand in the other trying to take the sting out as quickly as possible, while unleashing a list of expletives internally.

He crept passed the dark windows of the rooms where the Jedi lay in drunken slumber, blissfully unaware of the nocturnal activity. Mace’s breath misted out the from of his helmet, causing small rivulets of condensation to catch on the front of the chin guard and run back down toward his chin. He pulled his jacket collar up to stave off the cold as best he could, but it was not made for being outdoors on such a night and so the wind still seemed to rip through him and flay the skin from his bones. One up side to this kind of weather, it was too cold to snow and so there would not be any unexplainable tire marks.

When he reached his bike, he bit down on his lip, grabbed it by its icy handlebars and slowly and carefully extracted it from the row of parked vehicles. He tired his best to keep one eye on the room that contained the two Sith for any signs of movement. When he was sure there was none, he wheeled the heavy machine out onto the road. He was extra careful to not make any noise going across the gravel parking lot but since December brought with it the fell temperatures, this was also made easier as the ground had turned into a frozen, unyielding plane.

He still wheeled the bike a distance away. While the wind was howling like a wounded beast through the treetops he was pretty sure that no one would have heard it start closer to the motel, but it was better safe than sorry. He kicked the engine to life and as he rode off into the darkness he said a silent prayer that tonight would be the night he found some hint of where Jinn might be. He was also completely unaware that he was being watched.

Maul and Keagan were barely breathing as they stood stock still watching the figure creep toward the bikes and then leave. Keagan said a silent prayer that tonight would be the night that Mace would either hear a clue to the whereabouts of Jinn or maybe even the man himself. Maul assured him when Mace knew he would be able to "feel it" and he had seen him do it too often to doubt it.

Keagan was a thinker, a planner, and a natural born leader. Maul was all kinetic energy and tended to act before he thought. His methods, for most instances, were simple and effective. See problem, destroy problem, problem solved. But this time, that sort of direct route would collapse everything.

He knew the fox was in hiding and it was best to let the hound flush it out before they sprang the trap. So, the less energy they expended now, the better. He had only agreed to this alliance with the dinosaur of a biker gang to seek his revenge on the man who killed his brother, and he would not allow any amount of over-arching enthusiasm for the hunt to derail him now.

After his goal was realised, he would most likely let the old troll and his pathetic band of followers go to hell, for all he cared. He might let Maul take out one or two, to slake his appetite for blood, but on the whole the Sith did not need this alliance and the Jedi posed no threat.

He watched Maul start to chafe at all this inaction; he knew that his companion was like a cork ready to burst. Still, he could not afford to lose Yoda’s confidence quite yet and he still needed Mace to believe they knew nothing of his search for Jinn. But more and more Maul was starting to pace the room, muttering to himself. He was leashed for now, but the bonds might not hold much longer.

The shrill beeping of Maul’s pager cut through the tense silence. His gaze slipped from Keagan to the small electronic device as he pulled it hastily from his belt and glanced at the message. He kept one eye on the other man and never fully broke eye contact. The black block text against the phospherescent screen said "No mistakes. No Jedi must survive."

"What is it?" hissed Keagan, taking a step forward, his eyes burning with challenge.

"It’s nothing, the gang wants to know if everything is set yet," dismissed Maul with a shrug.

Keagan turned and faced the window again. Maul’s face split into a wide grin and his eyes flashed in the semi darkness.

Ben hovered just below consciousness for an indeterminate length of time. He liked to remain in that twilight state for as long as possible, when he had the chance. Hi mind still processing the semi-dreamscape of his subconscious while being somewhat aware of the reality that lay beckoning.

He shifted further under the heavy blanket and sighed as he felt Quentin’s even breathing tickling the short hairs on the back of his neck as he snored softly, spooned up, behind him. His mind sifted, leisurely, through the various moments of the night before, allowing him to relive them. He smiled to himself as the wonderful, tingly warmth began to infuse his body again. Slowly, the image started to change and he saw himself giving over fully to Quentin. He had no frame of reference to even begin to guess how that might feel, but he knew he wanted to know what it would be like to be taken and possessed by this man and in so doing, make Quentin belong to him.

"Heaven help me. I think I am in love with him," the lucid part of his mind thought. Then, unbidden, the image changed again and he was cradling Quentin as the life drained from him.

Ben’s eyes snapped open and his face creased into a frown. That dream really shook him and it had felt so real. He felt his stomach turn into a roiling mass and an involuntary shudder run through his body.

"Your simply afraid you’re going to lose him and that’s the image your mind has chosen to manifest those fears," he told himself, but it didn’t help to alleviate the horrible fluttery feeling in his chest. He shifted slightly under the weight of Quentin’s loose, one-arm embrace and tried to regain some of the happy feeling he had been experiencing only moments before.

It was to no avail. Truth was that as wonderful as the previous night had been, he had no idea what the depth of emotion was on the older man’s side. He knew Quentin liked him well enough, trusted him, and obviously desired him, but he didn’t know if it was love. The pessimist in him told him caution was still a must in this relationship and chided him for giving away his heart to freely to a man who still kept many secrets from him; including the real circumstances surrounding their meeting.

The optimist then chimed in that Quentin had every right not to tell him everything and had proven himself time and time again to be trustworthy. When Ben had allowed him in his home he could have robbed him blind, raped or even killed him; and Ben would have been powerless against him. But he hadn’t, and last night he had made love to him with a patience and passion that bordered on worship. Quentin knew everything about him and Ben’s instinct was telling him that the other man would not be so cruel as to just use him, knowing how much it took out of Ben to just get this far. So there had to be affection there, but how deep did it run?

Ben sighed, shifted restlessly and decided it was time to get up. Lying here and running over every little thing with a fine-tooth comb was doing nothing more than giving him a headache and he was sure he was just over-analysing again. He gingerly extricated himself from under Quentin’s arm, trying not to wake the sleeping man. He was not sure how much sleep the older man ever managed to get in his usual life, and he wanted to let him sleep on. Well that, and he also had to admit, he was not ready to face Quentin yet. Ben grabbed some clean clothes and quietly opened the door to his room, went out into the hall and closed it slowly and carefully behind him with a click.

Tavi and Nanuk met him in the hallway on his way to the bathroom. As soon as they had heard the bedroom door open and close they wandered out of the living room to greet him with playful whining and licking his hands. He stopped to scratch behind their ears momentarily, before slipping into the bathroom. Soon he found himself sitting in his kitchen, freshly showered and wearing loose black trousers and a grey t-shirt, feeling slightly at a loss as to what to do with himself besides brood. He stood up and put on his jacket and called softly to the dogs, who came bounding to the front door, wagging their tails and wiggling with barely restrained enthusiasm, as Ben attached the leashes to their collars. "Perhaps a walk would help," he thought.

He wasn’t sure how or why, but he found himself walking toward downtown. The day was brisk and bright, but not cold, and it felt nice not to be chilled in just his jacket. Tavi and Nanuk always enjoyed the route into town. It gave them ample opportunity to check out the "interesting" scents left by the other neighbourhood dogs on electrical poles and such. They could patrol and see if any new squirrels or cats had moved in while they weren’t being vigilant and give them a reason to bark as if to say "Watch out, there are dogs on patrol now!"

They could also greet all passers-by with yips and tail wagging. The people would, in turn, almost all say things like, "Hello, Tavi. Hi Nanuk. Taking your master out for a walk I see!" They would then get their answer in wide, tongue lolling puppy grins.

Also, heading into town meant that they might get to go to the park and, unlike their master; they had many dog friends there. They would most likely be wondering where they got to recently, and there was much important "dog business" to attend to such as remarking their territory.

All of this usually put Ben at ease, but today he trudged along behind his two best friends, lost in thought. He had figured the fresh air and exercise would help him to put away his anxiety but he found his thoughts were still conflicted and were not at all being cleared from his mind.

The town was now draped in red and green, glitter and gold; ready for the Christmas season. Ben took little notice of the whole scenario of the small shop displays featuring brightly wrapped boxes and gift ideas for those loved ones you were supposed surround yourself with at the holidays. Perhaps this year, he would not just be celebrating with just the dogs, the hopeful part of his mind tried again to cheer him.

He absent-mindedly pushed the door to the small men’s store and hitched the dogs’ leashes to the coat rack just inside the store. He started to browse through the shop looking at the comfortable, if somewhat conservative, clothing.

"I always say, it’s a good thing you live in a small town and your pups are so well behaved, Benjamin," the bright, but quavering, voice of the old shopkeeper startled Ben slightly. He turned and looked at the old man, who always gave him the odd feeling he was looking at a cartoon character of an owl, with his glasses magnifying his eyes to twice their normal size, long pointed nose and bushy grey eyebrows.

"Yes, Mr Smits, I-I hope you d-don’t mind," Ben smiled.

"No, no, not at all," Mr Smits said, shaking his head and waving his hands to dismiss the comment. "So then, young man, what can I get for you today?"

"Oh, I-I was thinking s-some new trousers," Ben said, holding up a pair he must have absently picked up.

"Well not those ones for sure!" the old man laughed. "They would be much too long for you."

Ben took a good look at the trousers he was holding. Lovely, casual, black and about the right size for Quentin. He groaned inwardly, he definitely had his tall companion on the brain. "Th-they’re not for me. Th-they’re for my house g-guest, who is staying for longer th-than was expected and c-came ill-prepared."

The excuse sounded lame even to him. Mr Smits only gave him a curious look and then set about helping Ben organise some clothing for his "ill-prepared house guest". Ben tried his best not to blush as he decided the best type of underwear would be the form-fitting shorts and imagined what those would look like on Quentin’s well-sculpted thighs and rear. Not to mention other areas they would also manage to conceal and yet display nicely.

Leaving the store, he felt a bit better. Not from the shopping, but because he could hardly wait to see the look on Quentin’s face when he found out he no longer had to wear the torn jeans and faded t-shirt. Also, Ben had bought himself one item that he thought Quentin might find intriguing.

He started back for home (the dogs giving him and plaintive look as they seemed to be forgoing the park) feeling much lighter than he had that morning. As he passed the pharmacy he thought, "Why not?" and went in, mission in mind.

He had tied the dogs outside the store before he went in, no way would he take the chance in there. The burly dark-haired pharmacist watched Ben enter and said nothing, just looked at him in that semi-hostile way that always gave the young man the impression he didn’t like him much. Ben picked up one of the wire shopping baskets and started to wander the aisles.

He picked out some odds and ends, including a toothbrush for Quentin, feeling very much like a teenage boy trying to mask his ill-gotten purchase among the more innocent items. Finally he came across what he was in there for, but did not realize he was totally unprepared for what he saw.

The lubricant was easy enough, it being a pharmacy some of the more exotic brands were just simply not stocked. Ben picked one out, glanced around and surreptitiously dropped it into the wire basket. He then looked back at the dizzying array of condom types proudly displayed on the peg-board.

There were just the regular type, extra thin ones, large, extra-large, pre-lubricated (with or without spermicide), organic, bumped, spiked, ridged, ribbed and all in different colours (Although, he was not quite sure why anyone would want it to look green … or blue for that matter). There were condoms that glowed in the dark and still others with or without reservoir tip. The only ones he could completely rule out straight away were the femdoms, because those would just be rather redundant.

Ben stood, flabbergasted and blushing furiously, in front of the dizzying array of brightly coloured boxes that boasted new and improved, extra durability and extra sensitivity. Finally, he just grabbed a box and threw it into the basket (and hoped they weren’t green) and went to the front of the store.

As the pharmacist punched his purchases into the cash register the cash register, Ben kept his gaze down as he could not keep from flushing bright red. He saw the man hesitate as he reached in and pulled the condoms and lubricant, but he said nothing. Ben paid for his purchases, grabbed the bag and practically fled the store.

Much to the dogs’ relief, they did stop at the park long enough for them to reacquaint themselves with their friends and for Ben to throw a few snowballs for them to chase, before heading home. He entered, puffing, through the front door. He dropped his purchases on the floor and went to find Quentin.

He walked into the kitchen, the bedroom, knocked on and opened the bathroom door and even looked in the utility room. Quentin was not there. His heart started to hammer in his chest and he felt an icy prickle creep up his spine as he called, "Quentin, come see what I bought!" and there was no answer.

He took a look through the rooms again, hoping in vain that he had perhaps just somehow managed to miss him, but there was no sign. His heart was now managing to work its way into his throat, along with his stomach when he heard the back door open and close and the dogs start yipping.

Relief flooded him as he saw Quentin enter from the back yard, motor oil on his hands. He rushed over to the older man and pulled him into a rough embrace, his one arm pulling down on Quentin’s neck so he could deliver a kiss.

"Well, hello to you too!" Quentin chuckled, breaking the kiss and trying his best to return the embrace without getting the oil on Ben.

"I thought you’d gone…" the younger man breathed against the solid chest.

"Ah! I am not the one who stole out of here like a cheating lover first thing in the morning," came the teasing response.

"I went to town so I wouldn’t wake you. Did some shopping while I was there. Come see!" Ben started to pull his companion toward the front room.

"Just a moment… Give a body half a minute to get cleaned up a bit."

Ben went into the front room and retrieved the clothing he bought Quentin out of the bag. When he turned to show him, he had expected many expressions, anger was not one of them.

"Bit big for you, aren’t they?" Quentin asked coldly folding his arms imposingly across his chest.

"They’re for you…" Ben’s face fell as he tried to explain.

"Did you not think, Ben? I am here because I don’t want to be found! Going out and doing hare-brained things like that is most likely going to get us both killed! Did you even stop to give a second thought to what you breaking out of your normal routine would do? What kind of gossip it would create?" Quentin hollered, his fear making him angry.

"I-I just wanted t-to do something nice for you… I-I’m sorry." Ben said, feeling completely foolish and chastised. "I-I just thought after l-last night you might b-be staying because of me…"

The ire left Quentin as quickly as it entered as the words sunk in, "Oh lad, I wish that these were different circumstances and I could stay for you. I am in trouble, a marked man you might say. I am in a position where I have to keeping running or die, do you understand?"

"No… No, I don’t! I don’t because you never told me anything! You must think I am some kind of fool. Thinking that perhaps you might just be falling in love with me. How naïve and stupid could I possibly be?" Ben said bitterly, trying to blink back the tears.

Quentin looked at the trembling figure before him and mentally berated himself for his overly hasty, harsh words and for being so heartless. "Ben, I think it’s time that you knew everything," he said and told him about the circumstances around him leading Ireland, the Jedi, Yoda, Mace and finally about Xanatos and the fallout after that.

Ben listened with a neutral expression on his face as the story came to a close. "So you see, lad, my feelings for you aside, I can never be who you want me to be. I will understand if you want me to go."

"Say it," Ben whispered with a venom neither of them knew he could posses.

"Say what?"

"Tell me…"

"Tell you what?"

"Tell me you don’t love me."

"I can’t do that, because I do. I love you more than anyone I have ever known."

Ben crossed the distance to Quentin and pulled him into a fierce kiss. "That was for finally telling me the truth." Then he pulled back and slapped him as hard as he could. "And that was for it taking you so long to do it."

Quentin nearly laughed, "So you want me to stay then?"

"Forever, if possible," Ben said as he relaxed back into the embrace and rested his head against Quentin’s chest.

"The Jedi may have other ideas," the ex-biker said in reasonable tones.

"They’ll have to come through me!" Ben said firmly.

"You would not be any match…"

"Then you will have to teach me!"

"Ben, do you really understand what you are getting yourself involved in?" Quentin asked with hesitancy

"Probably not, but I love you."

"You, one way or another, are going to be the death of me!" Quentin laughed and kissed his young lover’s forehead.

"Don’t even joke about that! But if you got that upset about some trousers and shirts, then you will really hate what I bought at the pharmacy," Ben said as he looked up and received and gentle kiss on his nose.

Quentin heaved a long sigh. "If it is what I think it is, at least I will go happy…"

 

CH 15

Mace picked up his coffee cup and blew into it to cool the scalding liquid, too a very quick sip off the very surface and put the cup back down. He kept the warmed ceramic cradled loosely in his hands, thawing them slightly after the frigid ride into town.

Although he couldn’t see how someone of Jinn’s size and demeanour would not stand out like a sore thumb in such a small and polished community, he had seen that man seemingly disappear under more difficult circumstances and so could not entirely rule it out. Not much more difficult, though, but as implausible as it was that Jinn would be able to successfully hide here for such an extended period of time, in this town that seemed to pride itself on its quaint charm, this was one of the only towns in the area and so he was not faced with a lot of options.

He had been here the night before with no luck and knew he could not return too often without alerting the suspicions of the locals. The cosy pub was a bit more upscale than the places he was used to. Against the one wall was the rich, mahogany bar with its polished brass rails along the upper and lower edges, for the patrons’ elbows and feet. Up until he saw that he had never fully understood Jinn’s saying of "shining the rails with our coat sleeves" when they went on an incredibly rare weekend binge.

Backlit stained glass ran the length of the three sides of the bar and was framed in the same mahogany with the word Kelly’s in relief in red against a gold and green background.

Mace sat in one of the four two-person booths that lined one wall, a wooden divider between each of them to give the occupants the illusion of privacy. He surveyed the other patrons to see if he could glean anything from them. Two middle-aged men sat at the table where the "L"-shaped bench seat lined the windows, arguing over sports team predictions and horse races. A very old man sat at the bar sipping whiskey and talking to the young, gregarious bartender about trivial things.

Mace looked at the time and realised, with no small amount of regret, that this would probably be it for the night’s customers; when the door to the pub was pushed open ushering in a torrent of icy wind and a tallish, burly man. He had short, dark hair and looked to be in a foul mood.

"Hiya, Andy. Alright?" the bartender called over to him.

"Been better," Andy called back, puffing into his hands and stomping the feeling back into his legs.

"Can I get ya a cure for what ails ya?" the young man said, laughing and shaking his head as if he were doing nothing more than running lines from a well rehearsed routine.

Andy sat at the bar next to the old man, took out a pack of cigarettes and lit one. "Not having to deal with the same thing day in and day out would cure me," he muttered as he expelled the inhaled smoke.

"I know what you mean," the bartender quipped as he placed a mug of beer down on a cardboard coaster in front of the man. "That reminds me, you lot. No showing up tomorrow. It’s Christmas Day and, as always, we’re closed." There was a general round of good-natured laughing and Mace got the feeling that it was a long-standing inside joke.

"I am sorry, Jonathan, but you don’t know the half of it," Andy continued when the laughing had died down and he had taken a long pull from the mug. "At least in here as people get drunk, there is a certain level of uncertainty maintained. I could set a watch by the habits of the pharmacy customers. Like, when Mrs Flynn will call about the painkillers for her bursitis and Mr Krakoff calling, yet again, to find out if he can just take all his pills at breakfast so he doesn’t have to remember to over the day. Even though they are clearly marked that they should not be taken together and one is on an empty stomach while the rest are after meals."

"Meh… they are just old and lonely and need someone to talk to," said the old man next to him, dismissively.

"Well, I wouldn’t doubt Betty Flynn does. I mean all she has at home is that cat of hers and she works with that Ben Kenobi and while I could be wrong, the cat seems like more of a conversationalist out of the two of them," this remark from the bartender was met with laughter from the gathered patrons.

"Well, that’s true but it does remind me that something out of the ordinary did happen a couple of days ago concerning Ben. He came into the pharmacy to get some things…" Andy said in a conspiratorial tone.

"What’s so odd about that?" asked one of the middle-aged men by the window. "I mean, he does seem a bit on the fastidious side, but I don’t think he’s had himself plastic-coated yet."

"Not the fact he came into the store, you idiot, what he bought was the odd part," shot back the pharmacist. "He picked up condoms and sexual lubricant…"

An unnatural hush fell over the rest of the patrons. "Noooo," the bartender finally said and let out a low whistle.

"Who knew he had a use for them!" said one of the middle-aged men.

"Who knows with him?" said the bartender. "He’s such an odd one, he could have also found some sort of odd tip in a book about how you can store stuff in ‘em if ya don’t want it getting wet."

"What kinda stuff?" asked the other middle aged man.

"I dunno… stuff… Hell, I didn’t write the book, did I?" the young barman said irritably.

Andy, clearly annoyed that his audience was getting away on him, cleared his throat and said, "I swear, it’s the God’s Honest Truth." He paid no attention that no one had disputed the validity of his claim. "I dunno, maybe he has a girlfriend, or something."

"He didn’t mention anyone past a gentleman who is staying with him, while he was in my store the other day," the old shopkeeper, Mr Smits, offered up. "Yup, he said he had a guest staying with him for a while, who must have arrived suddenly and is staying longer than expected seeing as Ben was in buying clothing for him. Was definitely a man and a large one at that, judging by the clothing young Ben picked out."

Mace’s ear pricked up a bit as he concentrated more on the conversation the locals were having. "I think this might be it," he thought.

"Come to think of it, my wife was talking to Betty Flynn a while back and was told that a large man came into the library asking after Ben. Apparently Ben told Betty it was a dentist friend of his passing through on his way to some convention or something. Only, according to Betty, this was like no dentist she’d ever seen," said the first middle-aged man, the earlier topic of conversation being totally abandoned.

"Do tell!"

"Well, she said he was large and had on a leather jacket. Long hair and was wearing a bandanna like in one of them gangs. But Betty trusts Ben and said that no matter what the appearance of this man was, if Ben said he was a dentist, then he was a dentist."

Andy’s brow furrowed in obvious displeasure. "There is something here not adding up. A stranger comes to town looking for Ben, who Ben claims is a dentist but he looks like a gang member. Then Ben has, what we can only assume is this same man staying with him, because what are the odds of Ben knowing two large men?" The rest of the patrons nodded in agreement at this statement. "Then he goes about buying things like clothing and birth control… I don’t get it. Perhaps this other man has a sister?"

A light went on behind the young bartender’s eyes, "Unless, the answer is so painfully obvious that we’re all missing it. I mean what if there is no woman in the picture at all. I mean what do any of us know about him. Do you suppose he’s…"

"Wouldn’t surprise me if he was," cut in Andy. "He’s always been an odd fellow to begin with, I would definitely say he could be one of that kind."

"Wow… And you think you have someone pegged… I woulda never guessed it. The whole thing just seems to be far too… well … y’know when they… I mean he just doesn’t seem the type to go in for that sort of thing!" said the second middle-aged man.

"Well, he’s always been peculiar and that’s no lie and he does seem to fit the profile," Andy said. "I tell you, it makes you think twice about him now…"

"Why?" asked old Mr Smits. "Our Ben has never been anything but courteous and a generally sweet soul to anyone who ever bothered to let him get to know them. You’re all talking about him as if he’d fallen with some illness and all over something he has never had the chance to deny or confirm. But I tell you one thing, if that young man has found someone who makes him happy then I am glad. It’s about time he stopped wandering around like he has the weight of the world on his shoulders. He always seemed like a frightfully sad young man to me and I would be pleased if he found someone. Man or woman…" He plunked his whiskey glass down forcefully at the end of the statement as if to punctuate his point.

The patrons all still descended into a conversation of wild speculation and no one notice Mace get up and leave the pub, grinning from ear to ear. "Gotcha."

 

Ben sat at the kitchen counter worrying his thumb nail and pretending to do a cross word while waiting for Quentin to get up. His morning coffee was sending up aromatic curls of steam as it sat untouched next to him and the sounds of playful barking filtered into the room through the patio door that led out to the back yard, where Tavi and Nanuk alternated between tackling each other into snowdrifts and running up to the glass to see if Ben was paying attention.

Even since Quentin had told him everything behind how he had really ended up in the park that one night and then later on at his door in the wee hours of the morning, Ben had started fretting. He became anxious every time a shadow passed in front of one of the windows and he jumped every time he thought he heard what he thought could be the sound of a twig snapping underfoot in the yard. It wasn’t for himself, though, because he felt a little safer since Quentin had been true to his word and shown Ben a couple of self defence manoeuvres that would at the very least ensure Ben could get away long enough to seek help. He worried about what they would do to Quentin if they ever caught up with him.

He would think about what happened to Xanatos when he tried to leave and icy tendrils of panic would crawl up his spine. That small dark voice was still there murmuring in his head all the time and filling his mind with doubt and telling him that Quentin would die and he would be powerless to stop it. This is what plagued him the most. Now that he knew what it was like to not only love someone, but also be loved by them, he was not sure how he would live if anything happened to Quentin, or if he would even want to.

Ben was so lost in thought that he did not hear the door open and close or the footsteps come up behind him, but he did feel the arm seize him by the throat from behind. With lightening-quick reflexes he thrust an elbow straight back and stopped just short of actually making contact with the body behind him.

"Soon, it will be my own fault if I get the stuffing knocked out of me when I decide to sneak up on you," the low voice rumbled in his ear.

Ben smiled slightly and turned his head so he could meet his lover’s lips in a good morning kiss. "Don’t worry, I will always be able to tell when it’s you," Ben said as he pressed his forehead to Quentin’s. "You are the only one who would dare sneak up on me in the morning in my own kitchen, coming from inside the house."

Quentin laughed, kissed Ben again and said, "Well, perhaps one day I will have the pleasure of just waking up with you in my arms." He encircled his arms around Ben’s trim waist and pulled the lithe young body against his own.

Ben laughed and said, "Well, if you didn’t sleep so late you could."

He yelped as Quentin swatted him on the rear and walked into the kitchen, laughing to himself. Ben admired the way the new pyjamas he bought fit the large man, even if he did insist on only wearing the bottoms. This was fine by Ben; he was just enjoying the view of the muscled back with the eerily familiar tattoo. He was not sure where he’d seen the tattoo of the angel and the fallen prince, but he got the uneasy feeling it was in one of his dreams.

Quentin poured a cup of coffee then went and let the dogs in. They rushed through the back door with great flailing puppy-like enthusiasm that almost knocked him down. They yipped and howled their morning greeting to him as they sniffed his crotch to make sure he was still their tall friend and not some horrible impostor posing as their friend.

When he got back to the kitchen, Ben had vacated his spot at the counter and was busily starting to make breakfast. He smiled fondly at the young man, clad only in a tartan robe, but when he moved close to the counter and noticed the untouched coffee and crossword his smile faded into a slight frown. "You know, I would not seem like such a sleepyhead to you if you did not get up at the crack of dawn to have a good fret all alone," he said softly.

"What makes you think I get up to fret?" Ben tried to ask causally, but a look of guilt he could not entirely hide crept across his face.

"Because the last couple of days when I get up you have been sitting at that exact same spot at the counter with a coffee and a crossword in front of you. And every time I look, the coffee has not even had a sip out of it and you have not filled in one single word on the crossword and I would not think it’s really that much of a challenge for you," Quentin replied, the last part fading from gentle chastisement to teasing.

"I can’t help it," Ben admitted, shaking his head ruefully. "I keep going over what you said that day… and if you should ever… I mean, if anything should… happen to you… It will be my fault."

"I already told you that I am sorry for what I said then. If anything happened to me, it would not be your fault," Quentin walked over to Ben, grabbed him by both arms and made the young man turn and meet his eyes. "I would not have been able to hide forever. I would never have been able to remain cooped up for the rest of my days, no matter how wonderful the company. Eventually I would have wanted and needed outside." He hugged Ben to him and felt him relax against his chest. He heaved a small sigh of relief. It still pained him to know how much those words, spoken in a moment of panic, had scared his young lover. "I love you, Ben Kenobi, and I am sorry for everything I have ever said that hurt you."

"Love you, too," Ben replied, his voice muffled against Quentin’s chest.

Quentin moved him back slightly and used the pads of his thumbs to brush the tears from Ben’s eyes. "There, now, lad. You spend too much time worrying about tomorrows and yesterdays, try and focus on what you have today and you will find life will seem much less of a burden to you," he said gingerly. Ben looked at him and nodded mutely. "Besides, I would figure that after all the ways I have tried wearing you out these nights, you would be getting better sleep. I feel I should be slightly insulted." Both of them laughed out loud at this comment.

It was true that every night Quentin would make love to Ben, who, for his part, was a quick study and was now becoming quite a skillful lover himself. He was talented with his hands and mouth and able to bring Quentin to crashing completion every time with his mixture of coy modesty and wanton sensuality. The only area still undiscovered for them was actual penetration; but past Ben, in a bold move for him, procuring what was needed, he had never brought the issue up again and Quentin was not about to push him.

"It is in no way a comment on your skills, trust me," Ben laughed. "I go to sleep thoroughly exhausted and sated." He wrapped his arms fully around the older man and pulled their bodies close.

"Mmmmmmm," Quentin murmured as he pressed Ben back against the stove and plundered his warm mouth. "What time is your shift today? I was thinking if we had time, we could go back to bed…" he panted, breaking the kiss.

"You just got OUT of bed," Ben teased. "And I don’t work today."

"You don’t?" Quentin was pleased and surprised by the news.

"Well, I should think not, it’s Christmas Day."

"It is?" Quentin’s pleased surprise turned into shock. "I have been paying so little attention to the dates… How could I have forgotten…" He shook his head sadly.

"I have never paid much attention to it, myself," Ben replied with a shrug. "I suppose I never saw a reason to celebrate before and fell out of the habit."

"You don’t understand… What time is it? Is it too late to make it?" Quentin asked half to himself and sounding distraught.

"Too late for what? Make it where?" Ben asked, sounding genuinely puzzled at Quentin’s distress.

"To Mass. I can’t believe I missed last night. Oh well, better late than never. If we hurry we can make it."

They hurriedly changed into appropriate clothing, Quentin being happy for the first time that Ben had had the forethought to buy him the dressy trousers and shirts, neatened themselves up as best they could and left the house, with Ben leading the way to a small chapel not far away.

As Quentin relaxed into a pew near the back of the nave he was glad that the service had not yet started. He berated himself again, internally, for not keeping better track of the time. What would Father Hanlon have said if he had missed today? He had promised himself long ago that in order to honour the man who had raised him after his own parents had died; he would always attend Mass on the important holidays such as Christmas and Easter. As he watched the service, as familiar to him as breathing, he fell into the reverie that he was back in the small church he had called home. He could almost see himself as the young alter boy, eagerly helping the Father prepare the sacraments and swinging the censor for the processional. Quentin closed his eyes and prayed for the health of Father Hanlon, if he was alive and also if he had already passed on, he prayed that the priest would look on him kindly, understand why it was he had to leave and look out for Ben. Keep him safe no matter the cost.

On the way back to the house, Ben finally spoke, "I get the feeling I could know you for a hundred years and you would still find ways to surprise me!"

Quentin smiled and took Ben’s hand in his own as they walked. Ben looked around as if the doors to the houses they passed would suddenly fly open and the people inside would hurl out hateful things at them. "What is it, Ben? Does this make you uncomfortable?" Quentin asked, squeezing his hand lightly.

"N-no, not exactly. But what if someone sees?" Ben asked hesitantly.

"So what if they do? I am not ashamed, are you?" Quentin asked softly.

"No," Ben said firmly, letting go of Quentin’s hand and wrapping his arm around the taller man’s waist. "Not anymore."

Quentin chuckled to himself as they strolled at an easy pace back to the house.

As soon as they got through the door, the dogs greeted them with their usual enthusiasm but Quentin could not break the slight melancholy he was feeling after thinking of Father Hanlon. Ben seemed to sense something was wrong and made him go sit in the dining room while he finished preparing the breakfast he had started earlier.

Quentin stroked absently behind Tavi’s ear when she decided to join him and sat right on his foot, putting her large head in his lap. He watched Ben move quietly around the kitchen, preparing the meal and whistling softly and tunelessly to himself. He felt his heart might burst for the love he felt for the once unbearably shy man. When Ben set out the food and dishes on the table, he seized one of his hands and placed a kiss on the palm. "Happy Christmas," he said.

"Merry Christmas to you also," replied Ben and smiled at him. They ate in silence and at the end of the meal, after Quentin had cleaned up, Ben broke the silence. "It’s such a nice day out, too nice to stay indoors. What say we get changed and go to the park to run the dogs?"

He smiled at the young man and said, "As you wish." He did find his mood had lightened considerably with the prospect of going outdoors again and all dark thoughts were obliterated from his mind entirely when Ben re-emerged from the bedroom wearing what looked to be a new pair of blue jeans.

He must have made an approving sound, because Ben’s face suddenly brightened and he turned, allowing Quentin a full view of how they hugged his shapely rear. "You like?"

"Very much so," Quentin said, drinking in the sight of his young lover. "Are they new?"

"Yes," Ben admitted. "I bought them when I got everything else, I figured you’d get a charge out of seeing them on me."

"If you meant ‘get incredibly aroused’ by ‘get a charge out of’, then I would say they did the trick," Quentin said, letting his eyes sweep over Ben’s body with predatory hunger.

"Think of it as a Christmas Gift," Ben said, catching the gaze and feeling an answering shudder.

Quentin crossed the room and pulled Ben to him, letting out a low growl. He covered the young man’s mouth with his own and started to plunder its moist depths. He felt his arousal growl as he tried to devour the young man.

"Quentin? What about the park?" Ben gasped as his lover nipped and licked his way down his smooth throat. The jeans, which only moments before had fit perfectly, were beginning to feel uncomfortably tight.

"You’re right, it would be unfair on the dogs to mention the park and then not go," Quentin said, banking his own arousal slightly and breaking the embrace. He left the room to get changed into his old jeans but still heard Ben’s barely contained scream of frustration nonetheless.

They spent longer at the park than originally anticipated and they all returned to the house, wet and exhausted. After they had changed out of their wet things, Quentin set about building a fire in the pristine fireplace as Ben went to make hot chocolate and put together a light meal. The dogs snoozed on the floor as they sat, cuddled, on the chesterfield watching the flame dance.

"Thank you for giving me a Christmas I am actually happy to remember," Ben murmured as he kissed the bearded cheek.

Quentin caught the young man’s face between his hands and held him still as he started to kiss him. He started to slowly and softly deepen the kiss, prising the willing mouth open with his tongue. Ben groaned and shifted against him, the forceful arousal from earlier that day being tempered into something warm and more tender.

Quentin broke the kiss and heard a startled gasp from Ben. He took his hand and led him toward the bedroom. He kissed, nipped and sucked at the tender flesh as he slowly let his arousal build, as piece by piece he removed their clothing.

Movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention as he saw Tavi and Nanuk crawl up onto the bed and lay down. "Oh no, you two. Out, for now," he said grabbing them by their collars and shoving them out the door and closing it.

Ben laughed a little, but soon found himself groaning again as Quentin returned to his sensual ministrations. Soon he had the two of them divested of their clothing and had lowered Ben to his back on the bed.

Ben responded eagerly to the caresses of his lover and returned them with the same languid ardour. Quentin lay between his slender thighs slowly undulating his hips against the young man and rubbing their arousals together. He was sucking the side of Ben’s throat, bringing the blood to just below the surface when he felt Ben start to push him away. He braced himself on his elbows and looked into his lover’s face to ascertain the problem. Ben just motioned toward the drawer in the bedside table. "Please?"

"Are you sure?" Quentin asked searching his face for any sign of hesitation.

"Yesssss," Ben ground out through clenched teeth, then lifted his head up so he could lave one of the erect nipples in front of him. Quentin hissed as he fumbled, one handed, around the drawer a bit until he located what he was looking for. He repositioned Ben’s legs, so that his lover’s calves rested on his shoulders and flipped the cap off the lubricant.

"If at any point you want to stop, just say so," he said and Ben nodded. He coated his fingers with the slippery substance and reached down, running a finger over the young man’s perineum until he found his entrance.

Slowly he inserted the finger to the first knuckle and he heard Ben gasp. He looked at his face for any sign of discomfort and found that he seemed to be in no distress. Slowly and carefully he worked it all the way in, then started to piston it slowly in and out of the tight orifice. He made sure to lightly massage Ben’s prostate, hearing him groan in pleasure.

He removed the finger and coated two with the cool gel. "Ready?" he asked. Ben only nodded again then gasped in slight discomfort as two digits breached him. Quentin moved them in and out slowly, scissoring them while fisting the other man’s arousal, until he felt the tight ring of muscle relax and loosen and saw the discomfort disappear from his lover’s expression.

He tore open a condom and rolled it over his own heated length and applied more of the lubricating gel to it. As he eased himself into the still almost impossibly tight passage he saw Ben’s face was dotted with pain. He was holding his breath and his hands had curled into fists clinging to the sheets. Quentin held still, kissed and whispered to the young man, "Breathe, love. You are doing so well…. Want you so much… Love you so much…" His words had the desired effect and he felt Ben loosen around him.

He pumped into his lover with long, languid strokes and made sure to angle for his prostate. Soon Ben’s erection, which had flagged, returned. Quentin felt him start to move with him and he resumed kissing the delectable mouth. Groans and gasps filled the room as the two men moved against each other and the pleasure built between them. When Ben tried to get his lover to pick up the pace, the older man chuckled and said, "Shhhhh, love, it’s not a race."

But in the tight virginal passage, Quentin couldn’t last much longer. Hearing Ben’s soft, but impassioned cries and groans below him, he was soon thrusting harder and quicker into the willing body. He took his lover’s weeping erection in hand and pumped it time to his strokes. Ben arched back, cried out and spent himself between their two sweating bodies. Quentin followed him over the edge, pouring his love into the lithe form.

Ben’s eyes were wide and dazed looking as Quentin withdrew from him and removed the condom. He tucked the young man into his embrace and kissed him deeply. "Mine," he growled.

"Love you too," came the soft reply as Ben, grinning broadly, burrowed into his chest and fell asleep.

 

In a dark room not far from where the lovers slept, Mace Windu sat bound to a chair and bleeding.

"It’s very simple," the black haired boy standing in the corner of the room said, in a calm voice. "We know you know where Quentin Jinn is, now tell us."

"I don’t know," gurgled Mace as blood spilled from his mouth.

"Perhaps losing an eye will jog your memory for you. Maul!"

Maul stepped forward the cold gleam in his eye matching the flash of the blade he held.

"No! No…. okay… I think he’s in a town not far from here… the locals seem to think he’s staying with a man called Ben Kenobi, local librarian and bit of a loner…I think they might be lovers… but I could not verify the stories," Mace panted, fear filling him.

"Well…"

"No, that sounds about right to me… Had a feeling when I heard that name, Kenobi," Maul said in his low soft voice.

"Very well, we will have to go and pay this Kenobi a visit," said Keagan as he left the room and shut the door just before the blood curdling scream rent the air.

Ben bit down on his lower lip to stifle a loud moan as his head pressed further into the pillow beneath it. Perspiration beaded his forehead and the muscles in his legs and stomach were beginning to quiver. Sweat dripped onto his taut abdomen from the body above his.

His legs were draped over powerful shoulders, his arms restrained securely to his sides by large, calloused hands and the heated length buried deep within his body was pressed firmly, and irritatingly unmoving against his prostate sending small shacks up the length of his body. He unsuccessfully tried to stifle another moan and tried to shift his body and make his lover move. The chuckle from above him let him know his efforts were useless and he was well and truly at the mercy of the older man.

"Please, Quentin!" he gritted out between clenched teeth looking down at his own body, which was beginning to visibly tremble with strain, his cock angry and flush against him.

"Please, what?" the tone Quentin used was light and teasing on the surface, but Ben could hear the underlying huskiness of arousal.

"For pity's sake, please move. You are trying to kill me here aren't you? You want me to beg, fine I'll beg. Please move, Quentin.please. I am sorry I said anything about your willpower, even in jest. please. oh please. ooohh." Ben's babbled pleas descended into a breathy moan as Quentin finally took pity on him and started to thrust, building up and quick and punishing rhythm. He released his iron-grip on one of Ben's arms so he could grasp the young man's straining erection and pump it in counterpoint to his thrusts.

Ben's moans turned into a low keening as the pleasure built in him and with a shout, he came, pumping the evidence of his orgasm over his lover's fist. Not a moment later he felt Quentin give one final deep thrust and his body shuddered against Ben's, moaning his name in a way that sent shivers down the young man's spine.

When Quentin had withdrawn his softening cock and pulled Ben into a snug embrace he heard his lover say in his jovial manner, "You, my love, are a sadist." Quentin laughed and dropped a kiss onto the damp, spiky head beneath his chin.

"You know, it's actually a technique. some people quite enjoy it," Quentin panted, trying to catch his breath.

"Some people also not detained from going to work to try it!" Ben sighed dramatically, but made no immediate move to vacate the bed.

The couple of days away from the library had been a welcome reprieve for Ben. He had never taken more than a few hours in the past holiday seasons, preferring to come in and get some work done while no one was around but he would not have traded the last two days for anything. After the last barriers had been broken down between them Ben allowed himself to be immersed in, not only the comfort, but also the startling passion of the new relationship. Even the smallest and most innocent of touches or glances easily dissolved onto more meaningful caresses; to lovemaking that would go anywhere from hard and fast to slow and languid. He would end, tucked in his lover's embrace, feeling like he'd always been there.

"Tell me again that you love me," he said every time, while he lay heavy and sated against Quentin, placing small kisses on the larger fingers interlaced with his own.

"You know I do, lad. Forever. All through this life and into the next," came the rumbled reply.

Ben smiled and kissed his lover again before he extricated himself from the warmth of the bed and headed for the shower to get ready for work. All too soon, he was standing behind the long hardwood counter of the library, flipping aimlessly though the paperwork Mrs. Flynn had left him.

He was positive that when she had been talking to him he eyes had been scanning him in a way that they hadn't before. He had shifted nervously from foot to foot under her surreptitious appraisal and felt himself blush as he wondered if he was wandering around with another large and obvious mark on his neck.

At first he could have laughed at himself for suspecting something like that from Mrs. Flynn. She was always fussing over him and he put it down to her general concern for him but as the afternoon progressed he noticed that more and more people were slowing down and watching him or going out of their way to greet him and ask him about himself and his affairs. He tried to quell the panic rising in him as his thoughts started to dwell on the possibility that due to his mistake a while ago, they all knew.

Ben started to avoid everyone with their sideways looks and invasive questions, figuring if he just ignored it maybe it would just go away. "Besides," he told himself, "It's probably still all in your head."

After a while the people all left and Ben was alone in the building once more. As the velvet quiet of the room seeped into him and the blood did not seem to be pounding behind his ears anymore, he fell into the lulling repetitiveness of the paperwork he was left, his mind calming.

The draft from the door of the building being opened hit his cheek and made him shiver. He kept his eyes down on the paperwork in front of him, hoping whoever it was would just brush by him and go about their business. When the hand insinuated itself between him and the desk he jumped back a bit in surprise.

Ben's eyes followed the hand that was splayed out on the papers before him and travelled up the sleeve of a worn leather jacket. He finally looked at the face of the hand's owner. A young man, but not much younger than himself, with long black hair and icy eyes was staring at him intently. "I 'm here to ask you about a friend of yours." Ben to felt a chill clench his gut. "Quentin Jinn."

"Qu-quentin? I-I'm sorry." Ben started to stammer. He shifted away from the youth.

"Oh come, come, come." the young man tutted. "You must know him. About yea high, long hair, lots of tattoos. Irish."

Ben shook his head as continued to back away. He didn't dare take his eyes off the young stranger. "If I can make it to the office, I might have a chance of phoning for help," he thought.

"Oh, that is a pity, seeing as I have it on very good authority that he's living with you." as the sentence came to a close the young man leaned forward over the counter fixing Ben in a glare. He turned to run, and bolted directly into the form of another young man who had come up behind him. He glanced up and saw eyes that burned into his skull, seeking out all his secrets. He fell back into an ungraceful sprawl on the floor, knocking his glasses free and sending them skittering. "He knows." Ben thought frantically.

"Oh, now, Maul... look at that! Help our young friend up, if you will," Ben heard the dark haired youth chide. "Now how do you expect our friend to cooperate if you knock him down like that?" The wild-eyed young man roughly yanked him to his feet. They momentarily left the floor as he was pulled forward and turned back to face the first youth. The young man climbed over the counter and started advancing on him.

In a panic, he threw his head back and struck the face of the boy behind him. The grip on his arm loosened a little. A little was all he needed to break free of the hold. He delivered a well-aimed kick to the first boy's mid section. He heard the air forcefully expelled from his lungs. The black-haired youth was completely unprepared for the blow. Neither of them was obviously expecting any resistance.

Ben made a run for the front door. He reached out and hit the crash-bar, but the door stayed solid. "Damn" was the only thing he had time to process before a blow to the back of his head threw him face first into it. Ben heard the crack his skull made as it contacted with the polished wooden frame. He slumped to his knees and looked up just in time to see bald shape of the second youth, holding something in his hand. He brought it crashing down into the side of Ben's face. Then all went black.

Ben slowly regained consciousness, the spot on his head where one of the men had hit him throbbing in time to his dull headache. He tried to raise his head but when he did, black spots swam before his eyes, disorienting him and making him feel the urge to vomit. He closed his eyes and let his head fall down to his chest limply as he fought to maintain consciousness.

He started to catalogue the pains in his body to keep his mind active and try to help clear it. One side of his face felt distended and sluggish where he was pretty sure it was swollen. He opened his eyes again and tried to get them to focus as best they could without his glasses. He tried to squint, but the bruised flesh around them protested, causing him to groan.

He was bound, sitting in a chair, and could not tell if the ache in his arms and shoulders was from the earlier skirmish or an indication of how long he had been there. He tried again to gingerly raise his head and this time he felt no nausea, just sheer panic.

Even though his myopic haze he could tell he was in some sort of hotel room. The crack between the heavy drapes let an icy shaft of light in and it looked almost like a luminous wall in air thick with dust, but served to illuminate the shadows of the room enough for Ben to make out the blurred shapes of the functional furniture. He could also see a shape that looked to be another person sitting across the room from him.

He tried in vain to make out any features of the other person. He thought about trying to call out to him in hopes of. in hopes of what he was not quite sure. Then the chilling thought seized him that perhaps the other man was already dead. Ben stilled his breathing to listen and heard a quiet respiration. It might be no use, but he had to try. If this person was put in here to guard him, perhaps he could get him to see sense before it was too late. "H-hello?" he said in a low whisper.

The other person grunted in what Ben thought was confirmation of hearing him. "P-please, say something. my n-name is Ben and I n-need to find Mace. P-please tell him to come here; I n-need to speak to him. If I d-don't a g-good man will die." The other person made no sign or remark indicating they had even heard the young man. "P-please? H-help me. Th-that Maul is mad and ."

But just at that moment the door had banged open and a familiar bald-headed shadow walked in

"And what? Oh come now, Ben, you hurt me. Here I thought you and I were about to become really good friends and you go and bad mouth me behind my back to Mace here!" Maul said and he dragged a chair up in front of the Ben and sat on it spread-eagle with his arms resting on its high back. "Too bad Mace is, for once, not in a talking mood. You see, he was the one that told us where to find you, Ben. He ratted out you large friend. Okay, it took several hours to wring that little bit of information out of him, but so much for Jedi loyalty, huh? But now he's all nicely kept quiet. Not lookin' too good either." There was a hint of mocking laughter to the young man's cold voice. Ben wished he could close his ears to the words.

"So then, what should we do to pass the time until your lumbering friend shows up?" Maul said in a false good-humoured way.

"You have w-what you wanted, so w-why don't you just k-kill me and be done with it?" Ben said looking at his captor defiantly. He would not give this sadist the pleasure of his fear.

"Oh you will die, Ben. But not for a while yet. No, Ben, before you die I will have the pleasure of hearing you scream and beg for mercy." Maul leaned in very close to Ben's face and ran the very tip of his tongue over the broken flesh on his cheek, causing him to wince. "Before we're done, death will seem like the only mercy left to you."

Quentin looked at the clock on the mantle and started to pace nervously, his long strides making quick work of the small front room. Tavi and Nanuk sat in the threshold watching him, panting in short harsh gasps, as they sensed his increased agitation. "Don't worry, he'll be home in a minute. He was probably just held up doing some catching up after the holiday," Quentin said to them reassuringly. He stopped to pat each one on the head and resumed his small circuit of the room.

He had to admit, he was nervous. If there was just one thing that he knew for sure about his young lover by now, it was that he liked routine. He knew from the outset that his mere presence had thrown Ben's quiet life on its ear, and he was truly sorry for that, but since then Ben had seemed to adapt his schedule to accommodate.

He was late. Very late. Quentin could not shake the feeling if dread that had nestled into the pit of his stomach and refused to go away. Something told him that Ben was in trouble.

"Stay here!" he said to the dogs as he grabbed his jacket and headed out the front door. If it turned out that Ben was already on his way home, he could tell him that he thought it would be a nice gesture to meet him and walk with him. They would laugh about it later.

Quentin's heavy boots crunched and squeaked through the cold snow. It was a bright, dry and frigid evening. His breath escaped form him in short harsh gasps to make small clouds in the biting air. He walked; eyes forward, on a mission, not letting his focus stray even a little.

When he reached the downtown his blood froze into its veins and it had nothing to do with the unforgiving night air. He had not met Ben en route. The lights still on at the old library building and there was no visible sign of movement within.

"He could be cataloguing books," Quentin thought to himself as he approached the rough-brick edifice. A piece of paper hastily attached to the door caught his attention; he steadied it with one hand and read the untidy scrawl.

"If you want to see your boyfriend alive again, meet me at the place of my brother's murder tomorrow at 2 pm."

Quentin snatched the note from the door and balled it into his shaking fist. Fear gripped his heart like an iron band. They had him. They had Ben and had taken him somewhere to call Quentin out. Taken him some place unknown.

He cursed himself for bringing Ben into any of this. But as the initial anger left his system, he thought, "Not a place unknown at all. They would have had to travel from someplace near enough that they had found out about Ben. Or been in contact with someone who knew how to find him. Only one person could find Jinn when he didn't want to be found. Mace." They were with the Jedi at the motel.

He took off at a run toward the house to get his bike. It was time to trap the fox in its den.

Ben had lost track of time. He knew it could not have been more than a couple of hours that he had been at the mercy of his captor and yet under his physical and verbal onslaught, it seemed like days. At first, he had just contented himself with hitting Ben and admiring the way the bright, slick blood coated his fist, but soon enough the torture was turned up a notch and Maul had brought out a series of sharpened metal skewers that he started to jab into the bound librarian. Ben had never known pain like this could exist, but worse than that was the voice. The calm and insinuating voice that droned on almost in the background of the bright pain. Feeding his fears and draining him slowly.

Ben watched with detached horror as that thing, that Maul creature brandished another skewer before him.

"What did you thin would happen?" the smooth voice that haunted his every moment continued. "That you would live out your days happily ever after like in one of your stories?" Ben bit back a scream as he felt the cold steel started to pierce his thigh.

"You should know by now, young librarian, that happy endings are a fallacy and that you will betray him and die"

He looked into the eyes of his tormentor and said "N-not bloody l-likely." then bit back a scream as the metal bit further into his flesh and caused the muscle in his leg to spasm in response.

"What does it feel like, Ben, when he is rutting you? When he breeds you like a bitch in heat? Can you still feel him there? Inside you? Do you really believe he loves you? Do you believe all the pretty words he says to you as he holds you afterward, shaken and naked?"

Ben shook his head and tried to clear it of the poison starting to eat at him. All the fears and loathing instilled into him at the institution began to take root in him and grow again. The nausea welled up in him as he felt the guilt come to the surface. If what this monster said wasn't true, then why after they made love-no-- had sex- did Ben feel the need to hear Quentin tell him he loved him again?

Ben wanted to scream out and tell this fiend that he would never win, but the dream image of him cradling Quentin as he lay dying sprang into his head. His tongue stuck to the top of his mouth and all he could mutter was a barely whispered "S-stop..."

"Stop? Stop? We've only just begun. I have only just begun, you will soon see the error of your ways and trusting anyone too quickly." The mocking tone continued as Ben waited for the next onslaught of pain.

He tried to clear his vision and bring the room back into some focus. His head hung limp against his chest and he panted heavily.

"Where is your saviour now? Maybe he's tired of you and will leave you here. Did you think he loved you? Could possibly love you? You are less that a fancy to him.... less than a woman he could breed. You are nothing. Not a man, not a woman... good for nothing and to nothing you will go."

Ben tried to stop the droning voice, but the venom was starting to seep in and the coldness was working its way into his soul. What only hours before were the pleasant memories of Quentin making love to him became tainted under the onslaught. He gasped as Maul undid the buttons on his shirt, yanked it as far back as he could over the chair and a razored glove painted lines of fire across his back. The deep blue of his lover's eyes melted to azure pits of hunger. Quentin's face dissolved into that of the Sith, hurting and driving into him with fierce abandon. He wanted to scream and cover his ears from the voice, which kept whispering to him the fears he most wanted to forget. He was tainted. To his very soul he knew he wanted possession by this beast, this hunger that consumed him. Devoured him whole.

"I know who you are, Ben, though you don't" the voice continued," I knew you from your first birth and will haunt you to your last. Your name has changed and you had been kept safe from your doom this time. But you never listen..." a finger tapped him in the middle of his forehead causing him to shrink back against his bonds and try to escape its relentless prodding. "You... never... listen... just as good is eternal so are we. Just as you are reborn, so is the darkness. You feel it don't you? To your very core. We are what shapes destiny. A delicate dance of light and dark balancing each other."

Ben started to shake as Maul leaned closer and whispered directly into his ear, "My master has been around since the beginning. He is what makes war... genocide... famine... Did you think these things evolved on their own? Every time you feel the need to get involved, to forestall the inevitable. Every time you rely on the love that sustains you, but this time you are ready to know that this love is false." The creature pulled back from Ben and smiled at him. "I understand you and your turmoil. You want it to just stop... Just once, you would like to not carry the suffering of the world. He makes you do it. Not us, but him."

He could see it all again. The strange tan clothes. The fight. A creature dressed in black. The light fading slowly from Quentin's eyes. The pain of loss ripped through him, then dulled into a low heavy ache.

"You were safe this time... cloistered and secure until he found you. None of this would have happened... you could have lived out your life this time. Happy..." Ben's eyes dulled as the Sith's words took hold. He went lax; his eyes fixed, his breathing, slow and deep.

A crack in the door ignited the gloom a bit and Ben could see clearly the other captive. He had deep abrasions and cuts beneath bright eyes that regarded him in the dimness.

"Jinn is here. Now. Bring him!" The slightly panicked voice of the other boy rang out in the stillness of the room.

Ben was unceremoniously untied and yanked to his feet. As he was roughly handled out, he avoided the piercing stare of the other captive.

As the door shut again, Mace finished the work on his bonds. The Jedi had started this but he would be damned if he did not do something to help Ben. And would be damned twice if he let anything happen to Jinn.

Quentin Jinn brought his bike to a screeching halt in the parking lot of the motel, sending a spray of gravel up from under the blanket of snow. He saw the flittering shadow of a slim figure disappear behind one of the doors. He immediately recognised Keagan from his height and build, and dread and anger bubbled up inside him.

He heeled down the kickstand and swung his leg out over his bike. There was still a chance that Ben was alive and unharmed, so he had to calculate his moves very carefully. Raging into the thick of it would most likely get his lover killed. He knew Keagan better than to think that there was not at least one person with him as backup.

Shaking legs carried him toward the edifice as the bile rose in his throat. For what seemed too long a time there was no movement at all. Perhaps they were just now killing Ben, and his judgement at meeting the wolf in its den been a gross miscalculation. Cold sweat began to prick at the back of his neck. He nearly breathed a sigh of relief as he saw the door to the room open again and three figures emerge: Keagan, some other boy and Ben, but the brief respite was jarred away when he saw that his lover was barely moving on his own and was being half dragged across the threshold.

Jinn fought to keep the rage from clouding his mind as he saw Ben being lugged roughly from the darkened room and into the open-air corridor of the motel. When he saw the cuts and bruises marred the young man's beautiful face and bloodstained clothes that revealed the secret of other wounds on the rest of his body, he could not entirely quell the pang of guilt that flashed across his mind. Ben was an innocent in all of this and if he hadn't blindly and selfishly tied the young man to him, right now he would be sitting at home reading on of his damned faery tales and perhaps scratching one of the dogs behind the ears. Instead, he was here out in the cold winter night with just his shirt and trousers for protection from the biting air, beaten and being used as bait.

His hands twitched involuntarily and curled into fists as his lover was roughly shoved to the floor and there he knelt, as the Jedi started to emerge from their rooms to find out about the noise. Soon the corridor was filled with all of the gang, various states of alarm and confusion in their expressions. Only the cackling of Yoda broke through the murmur, but nothing, not even the jostling of the bodies as they moved past Ben, seemed to really be noticed by the young man. The rise and fall of his chest and plumes of vapour from his slightly opened mouth revealed deep, slow breathing and his eyes remained unblinking and fixed forward. Jinn noted that not even a shiver ran through the young body. His eyes seemed dull, distant and completely unaware of his surroundings.

Jinn finally gave in to the anger and fear, knowing that something horrible had happened at the hands of one or both of the Sith gang members. His blood pounded in his ears and he felt the adrenaline flood his system, they would pay and pay dearly for hurting Ben.

Maul could not hide the disappointment as it flashed over his features when he got his first look at the legendary Jinn. When Maul had heard about the celebrated enforcer, from his boss and his fellow Sith; he had always pictured a man of almost mythic proportions, a veritable giant. But his man before him, ashen-faced with fear was not the formidable opponent he was expecting. All Maul saw before him was a panicked old man.

He snarled in frustration: the thirst to maim and destroy that had been building in him would go unsatisfied again. Under the iron fist of his boss, he had been trained for years to crave it and yearn for it, like a powerful drug that caused him almost physical pain if not satiated. The little sessions with Mace and then Ben had only served to fuel the fire of the hunger within him; the need for blood that, like a black pit inside him, was always with him and never fulfilled.

He wished now that he had killed Mace, he had hoped that the gnawing inside would finally be replete by the killing of the mythic Jinn, but his hopes had been in vain. Perhaps he could lash out at the subdued Ben, as he knelt in his almost blind resignation at his feet. He could kill the boy here and watch with glee as pain contorted the old man's face, watching his catamite die. But he had orders. Kill the old man, but bring the boy to his boss and he knew better than to defy him.

"But the boss only said that the boy not be killed, but there are still things I could do to him and not have him killed," Maul thought as a grin spread over his face and an answering throb in his groin. "After the aged battle horse, Jinn, is dead, I will show the librarian that there can be all new ways to make him scream and beg for death. But life is very rarely merciful, my pretty."

Ben tried to make his legs work as he was pulled from the warm dark room into the harsh lamplight of the open corridor, the wind ripping through his thin garments, but it was next to impossible for him to move at all. The world around him seemed distant and washed out, as if seeing it only in a dream. He felt himself being thrown to the ground, but did not feel the impact the hard boards made against his knees. Everything was cottony, buffeted from his senses. The dull thud of hitting the ground barely registered, as his eyes remain fixed ahead of him.

The noise of the people around him was muted and remote, as if heard through water. He wanted to look around to discern his surroundings, but his vision seemed to be obscured by more than just his usual myopic blur, it was more like looking through a cloud. He could barely make out Quentin standing just a small distance from him, legs astride as if waiting. He wanted to call out to him, warn him about Maul, but a red curtain replaced the cloud, and an electrical hum seemed to fill his ears. His voice stuck in his throat as if it could not penetrate the wall in front of him.

Quentin's stomach roiled as if he had swallowed a live snake and his pulse hammered in his ears, but he could not and would not let them see that they had hit his Achilles heel. That would spell the death for both him and Ben. He continued to try and calm his mind and think of alternatives of how to get his lover out of this situation safe. There always had to be an alternative, some way of negotiating. But his mind would stubbornly only focus on his anger. Out of the morass of all his tumultuous emotions, one answer bubbled up to him. Eventually Ben would understand and perhaps even forgive him. He didn't know a promise of forever could be so short: he would trade his life for his love's. With a heavy heart and stony resolve, he called up to the assembly before him "You quarrel is not with Ben, Keagan, it's with me. Let him go and you and I can settle this once and for all." He berated himself slightly at the half-truth. He had been powerless to stop Xan's death and he would not make that mistake again.

"That is the plea of a dead man, Keagan. You're not going to listen are you?" Maul sneered, his impatience causing him to overstep his designated role as the Sith's second in command. He looked sidelong at Keagan, his lip curling and eyes flashing with deadly intent, daring the other boy to take up his challenge.

Keagan drew himself up, looked over at the bowed young man and with an impatient gesture toward him, said, "Is this what you were looking for, Jinn? Is this the pathetic creature you would give up your sanctuary for? You always claimed you were a just man, Jinn, perhaps it would serve justice better if I were to take and eye for and eye?" He stepped toward Ben and delivered a brutal backhand to the young man's already swollen jaw. He sent the young librarian crashing down against the frozen boards of the walkway. He stepped over the fallen man and yanked his head back by the hair, exposing the smooth column of his ivory throat and held his knife against it. He pressed lightly into the skin, bringing a red pearl of blood to the surface, causing Quentin to step forward in reaction then stop in shock as a dozen or more young men seemed to materialise from nowhere on the walkway and surround the grim tableau with an imposing presence.

Ben was dimly aware that Quentin was trying to negotiate for his freedom, to trade his life for his own. He wanted to shout and stop him, tell him to get as far away as possible. Maul would honour no deal, and they would both end up dead, but the words died before he could even draw in the breath it would take. He heard the voice of an angry young man, rejecting the offer. His head lolled lazily in the direction of the voice, but the curtain allowed him to see nothing but Maul and empty space. An unseen blow caused Ben's head to snap back with a sickening crunch and he fell forward onto the boards of the walkway. As he fought for consciousness, he saw Quentin step forward slightly then get stopped by an invisible force and he distantly felt something hard press into the skin of his throat.

Maul had not calculated for Keagan trying to kill Ben himself. For someone who prided himself on his ability to plan for anything he was usually such a linear thinker, and while this turn in events would normally have entertained Maul, he had his orders. The boy must be alive. Using his small mobile phone, he had signalled the Sith, who had remained concealed just a short distance away from the motel when Quentin had arrived and sent the order for them to advance as soon as Keagan acted.

The Jedi didn't know what hit them as they found themselves surrounded and overpowered by the younger, quicker opponents. Using the distraction to his advantage, Maul leapt the couple of steps between him and Keagan and tried to wrestle his arm away from Ben's throat.

"You knew the orders as well as I did, Keagan, Sidious was right to not trust you." he hissed in his friend's ear as he squeezed Keagan's wrist until he heard the shriek of pain and the satisfying crack of bone and sinew giving way under the assault. He snatched up the knife as it went clattering to the ground. With an upward motion he stabbed the sharp blade back into the top of Keagan's abdomen, angling and twisting it so it tore the young man's heart muscle to shreds. He relished the look of betrayal that fleeted through his prey's eyes as the satisfying warm fount opened over his fist and the life poured from him in a hot, wet rush.

Maul called over two of the Sith gang members and said, "Take him back with you now. I will deal with the old man. Remember, he is to be alive." Then turned to face his opponent, who was currently grappling with a man half his age and twice his bulk and Jinn had the upper hand. Perhaps this would be fun after all.

Quentin had been surprised as anyone when the young Sith appeared on the scene and started to attack the Jedi. Seeing this as his opportunity, he tried to make a dash for the walkway and to Ben, but was halted when a large, mean-looking boy loomed up before him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Maul stab Keagan and start to send Ben away with two of his cronies, before a meaty fist brought his full attention to the task at hand. He had not been ready for the blow to his solar plexus and the wind rushed out of him, causing him to gasp. But he recovered enough to dodge the next punch and deliver a stunning right jab to the young man's nose. An attack that would have felled a lesser man, only served to enrage the hulk before him. With the mindlessness of a bull in a rage the goliath of a young man charged at Quentin, who was now ready to face his adversary head on.

Using the young man's own weight and momentum as leverage, Quentin easily ducked far enough down to grab him around the thighs and flip him onto his back, then straddled his chest to deliver another crippling blow to the side of his head with both fists. A shadow cast from the street lamp overhead made Quentin look up and he saw the young man who stabbed Keagan standing next to him. "Enough," whispered the bald-headed youth. "The old man is mine."

The young man below Quentin, who had appeared to be getting ready to try and overpower him, just nodded and shifted his weight, spilling Quentin onto his side. Quentin lay there panting for a moment before the cold voice spoke again. "Get up old man. I want a little sport before I watch you die."

"I would say then, that's incentive for me to lie here for a while then," Quentin said without humour. Until a kick to his side sent bright sparks of pain through his body.

"Make no mistake. I will kill you either way, but how you perform now will determine what I do to him, you little lover over there. You see, I hurt people. It's what I am good at and I really love my work. If I am not satisfied with you, then perhaps after your gone, I will exercise that need a bit more on him."

Quentin closed his eyes as he felt fury fill him at the young man's words. Maul knelt down and whispered directly in his ear, "He screams so prettily, but then, you know that. But have you heard him beg for mercy? Cry out in pain, hoping to be delivered? I bet not. But it is a most powerful aphrodisiac. I wonder what sound he will make and what cries will be wrung from him when I take him unprepared? When I thrust myself into his very being? And who will hear those cries then?"

Quentin started to tremble with anger at the words and let out a roar of wrath as he viciously elbowed the sinister young man in the chest. Some part of him still tried to maintain balance and focus. He would not be able to anticipate his opponent's movements if he allowed himself to be blinded by anger and hate, but the thought of this vile creature violating Ben was overpowering and he attacked.

Maul had been temporarily thrown by the power behind the assault, but quickly recovered. Yes, this was what he needed. Power, rage. He would win this fight and as the old man died on his knife, he would let him know it changed nothing. He would also have his precious lover.

All around them the melee of the battle continued, but they stood out in stark contrast against the others. Falling into a deadly dance where only one would walk away.

Ben fought to keep things in focus as he watched the fight progress around him. He barely felt the young men pulling him away from the churning, muted crowd. He looked over his shoulder and there as clear as day, he saw Quentin and that creature Maul locked in lethal combat. Quentin seemed to dance around his opponent weaving around punches. It seemed to him as if he was seeing Quentin but at the same time, not. The scene was too familiar to him. He had seen this before and a dread filled his heart. Ben tried to clear his vision, but still he saw Quentin as if swathed in light fabrics. It wasn't real. He felt sorrow inexplicably fill him. He had not waited again. He had pressed ahead, he was a good fighter but his strength could not hold out forever. "Why can't you ever just wait for me? You impulsive fool?"

Ben gasped, and just as the thought flickered to him so it was gone like a wisp of a dream. It was all moving too fast. Cream, tan, brown swirling and pulling him into its eddy. Cold metal. The hum of machinery. Panic. Loss. Sorrow.

Bright arcs of light swirl and clash together. Green. Red. Heat. Exhaustion.

The image faded as Ben felt warm hands work their way up his arm and then suddenly his hands were free. The blurred image of a dark skinned man swam before him. "You're free, help him!" came the harsh whisper as he felt the hilt of a knife pressed to his palm.

Mace had been working slowly at his bonds for several days now and had finally freed himself. Just in time to free Ben from the two Sith taking him away in order to send him into the foray to help Jinn. In the shadow of the room he had seen Ben withstand the most terrible mental torture that proved his bravery. He truly loved the old bastard and perhaps would be able to find the strength in himself to save him.

Mace had other things to attend to first, as he saw Yoda trying to use the diversion of the battle to escape. Hauling his distorted form onto one of the bikes. Mace raced toward the little troll, and managed to knock him free of the motorcycle.

"Mace, knew not of this I did. Help an old friend you will now?" the old man pleaded with him.

Any pity and loyalty he might have felt toward the leader of the Jedi had now long dissolved. He smiled widely. Killing Yoda would be a favour to them all.

Ben clutched the knife in his hands desperately and he staggered toward where Maul was still fighting with Quentin. The older man was exhausted and starting to falter and Maul was quickly picking out his weak points and capitalising on them. Black. Red. Anger.

Ben started at a determined sprint toward the two forms locked in their dance on razor's edge under the lamplight. Ben saw Maul pull something from his belt loop. Just as he registered the glint of cold metal, it disappeared and Quentin fell to his knees, clutching his stomach.

"No!" the cry issued forth from Ben's mouth before he could stop it. No one stopped to look at him or even acknowledge he said it. Except for eyes alight with hatred and anger that turned toward him and focussed their amber glow.

Ben looked at Quentin lying in the snow then back to the menace before him. Anger, hate and fear coursed through his veins, causing a dull roar to resound in his head, all his attention focussed on his target.

With a snarl he rushed forward trying to jab Maul with the knife he brandished. Maul quickly moved out of the way and slashed out at Ben's arm, opening a long thin wound and pulling a gasp from the young man.

Maul snickered as Ben, wheeled around on him and stabbed out blindly. The snicker died and the warm gush over Ben's hand told him he hit true. His opponent was down. Ben twisted the knife and looked long into the hated eyes as the light drained from them. His hand sprang free of the hilt of the knife as if the spell holding it there was broken

The cold, harsh light of the winter dawn started to illuminate the ground with is grey light. Ben could see the dark figure of his lover in sharp contrast against the pristine snow. I slow red river was escaping from beneath him. Without a sound, Ben dropped to his knees and turned the older man. He scooped the unnaturally light form of his lover to him. A light dusting of snow started to fall from the pre-dawn sky and the stillness of Ben's world was shattered as sirens sounded out in the distance and surviving gang members from both groups fled the scene in a roar of motorcycle engines.

"Somebody! Please! Help me!" Ben cried out, his voice shrill in desperation. "He's dying. you cant let him die like this."

He leaned over the body of his lover and nuzzled into his neck. Hot, wet tears splashing onto the skin.

"Please..." Ben's voice dropped to a whisper, speaking only to Quentin, "You can't die. Not like this. Not now. You promised to love me forever. This was not forever, Quentin." He desperately pressed a hand to Quentin's would, trying to slow the bleeding., but it was still managing to escape from under it in a warm, sticky stream.

As Ben looked down a sickening feeling of dread enveloped him. Quentin breath was starting to come in short and roughened gasps. "Please, please... no." Ben slumped forward onto the prone form of his lover, his body wracked in a spasm of emotional pain he had never felt before. "Quentin, I love you please. Keep breathing."

"For God's sake!" Ben cried, his voice already raw from the hurt and cold, "Please help me! You can't let him die... I just found him. It's not fair!"

Quentin's soft voice interrupted him, "Ben, I am so sorry, I seemed to have bled a bit on your lovely white blanket. I will have it replaced." He made a vague gesture at the snow-covered ground around him where an expanding stain of angry red seeped into the pristine white of the snow.

"Shhhhh, Quentin you need to keep quiet and conserve your energy for me so you can get better," Ben softly kissed his lover's mouth and held his body even closer, trying his best to will the faltering heart to keep pumping.

A wet cough wracked Quentin and a thin trail of blood seeped from the corner of his mouth only to be gently kissed away. "Really, Ben, you are going on over just a leg wound. I think I will be okay really. I feel much better. I was so cold before and it's not cold anymore. What's wrong?"

Ben felt the body start to go lax in his arms and he frantically pressed his hand more firmly against the wound that spilled his love's life out of him in slow sickening waves. Quentin's body was losing heat and felt cool against his cheek. Ben no longer noticed the biting chill as he held Quentin to him. Listening to the breath that was now laboured and rattling in his ears, he let out another sob as he whispered, "Please. Don't go."

"I will be here, Ben." Quentin felt all the pain dissolve from his body and his vision fade. There was nothing wrong, he didn't hurt and it wasn' t cold. Why was Ben still crying?

The warm hue of the sunset played against the underside of the downy clouds, casting the top most parts in a light grey and painting the underside a delicate coral. A single tree stood at the top of the hill before him, a light breeze whispering through the long grass causing it to wave lazily. The tree itself, although not tall, was old and gnarled and seemed strangely lopsided, as centuries of the wind had formed it.

A young man sat under the tree, his back against it and eyes closed as if patiently waiting for someone. Something inside Quentin told him that it was him the young man was waiting for and as soon as Quentin put one booted foot on to the hill to begin his climb, the young man stood and waved to him as if he were an old friend back after a long absence.

There was something altogether alien and familiar about him, the fading sun decorated his hair the colour of fire and blue-grey eyes regarded him solemnly. It was only when he reached the top of the hill, he recognised Ben. His Ben, bare-skinned but clothed in light. He reached out and embraced the young man, who looked at him with eyes that spoke of longing and sadness.

Quentin looked around him and saw that below the hill lay a field of high stalks of grain, tinted the same colour as his Ben's hair, that swayed in slow waves. There were two paths still discernable in the suns diminished light. One flat, wide and smooth and leading to the sun and the other was rough and stoney and seemed to be shrouded in shadow.

"Where are we?" he asked as Ben pulled away from him and walked to the summit's edge.

"Don't you recognise it? You brought me here once long ago. You said it was you favourite place in all the galaxy, because the grain in the field against the sky reminded you of me." Ben said, hugging himself as if to stave off a sudden chill.

"I think you might be mistaken. I have never been here before."

"Perhaps not. have we changed so much then?"

"Changed? How I don't understand."

"Then it is not for you to understand yet, but this will not delay your choice."

Quentin stared long and hard at the pale figure of his lover who seemed intent on the fading sun before him. "Quickly, your time is almost up, you must choose a path," the young man's voice took on a stern edge of impatience.

"Then I must choose one of those two paths? Seems only a fool would choose the rocky, shadowed path," Quentin fought to keep his voice even and not show any of the frustration that Ben's enigmatic speech.

His lover chuckled mirthlessly, " Sometimes facing hardships is a choice we make if the goal is worthy enough. But it is bearable if you focus on the here and now. Dwelling too much on what might lie ahead will always cloud your judgement."

"Who ever told you something like that?" Quentin demanded, his patience failing in the face of this little game.

"You did, long ago when you first brought me here. But it is almost nightfall, you must choose now!"

Quentin felt the pull of the easy, gentle path toward the sun. He thought maybe he knew where it went or that he had been down it before. Ben turned one last time and looked at him with the same expression of hopelessness and sorrow. As the last rays of light tripped up through the field, he faded from sight.

Quentin choked back a cry and rushed toward where the young man had been standing only moments before. Ben's words ringing in his ears, Quentin finally ran down the hill onto the treacherous path just as the sun sank out of sight and plunged the world into darkness.

The first thing he noticed was light. It was a dim light, but getting stronger. Then there was pain. Every time he breathed in, it was if a hundred little razors were being driven through his stomach. The steady hum and click of some sort of machinery filled his ears, as they seemed to come back into focus. He opened his eyes slowly, the low throbbing in his head and the lights above him making it impossible to do more than squint.

He turned his head slightly and tried to bring the room into focus. The walls were white and as his eyes adjusted he realised the lights were actually quite dim. The beeping and hum of machines around him let him know, he was alive. He was scanning the area slowly, when his eyes alit on the tawny haired figure sleeping slumped over in a chair, next to the bed. Even the slight bruises still apparent on the young man's face were a sight for sore eyes.

Quentin tried to say something, but a thick tube down his throat impeded his voice. It didn't matter, even his slight stirring caused Ben to wake up with a jolt and rush toward the bed and grasp his hand.

"I never thought you would choose to come back to me." he said as he kissed Quentin's hand. "Welcome back, love." Quentin caressed the tears off the young man's cheek just as the nurses arrived. For better or for worse, he was alive and with Ben.

"I will keep my promise to you, my own," he thought as sleep overtook him.

To be continued....

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