Disclaimer: Features some violence, and two males sleeping together, and not in a platonic way. If you can’t deal, don’t keep reading.
I can’t even pretend to own the characters or concepts behind Star Wars in any of its various incarnations. And they aren’t yet in the public domain, although they should be, dammit! So, all hail to George Lucas and LucasArts and Skywalker Studios and you all know who you are. And just in case anyone's confused, here's where real Star Wars stuff can be found.
He fought well. He was young, and strong both physically and in the Force. But the contest no longer had any meaning for him. In his mind, Obi-Wan already knew that he had lost. He had lost when Master Qui-Gon Jinn, his last hope to become a Jedi Knight, had left the amphitheatre. Now it did not matter whether he defeated his opponent or not. If the Master would not take him as an apprentice, then he would have to leave the Jedi Temple. He had lost.
Obi-Wan neatly parried his opponent’s next swing, and disarmed her with ease. The victory was hollow. It didn’t matter now. Obi-Wan bowed to the teachers, and to the Council representatives, before turning his back on the rest of the spectators and retreating to his room.
A slight hope that Master Jinn would stop him on his way back to his room was crushed, as was the idea that perhaps a missive might be waiting for him. Obi-Wan threw himself down on the narrow bed. Unshed tears gathered at the back of his throat and burned his eyes. At a total loss for what to do next, his thoughts turned to the dark secret he had kept for two months.
Obi-Wan pulled a dark cloak from underneath his bed, and climbed out the window. His exit was unnoticed, as it always was, and he easily made his way into the city. He walked unmolested through the finer parts of the city, and made his way to a small hôtel on the edge of the trade sector, where the consulate quarter met with the spaceports. Despite his age, the clerk at the front desk waved him on without question.
He took the elevator to the penthouse, and used his own key to enter the surprisingly spacious room. “Nevyn? Are you here?”
“Obi-Wan?” A tall man, dressed in dark, somber robes emerged from the office. His hair was white, either from nature or age; his eyes were clear and honest, dark and trustworthy. He was handsome, and smiled easily. But no smile graced his noble features now. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at the contests?”
Obi-Wan sat down heavily on the couch. “He left in the middle. He didn’t even stay to tell me why I failed.”
“Oh, child, I’m - I’m so sorry,” said the older man, and he sat down on the couch next to the boy. He reached out, and Obi-Wan let himself fall into the familiar embrace. “Is there anything I can do to help, Obi-Wan?”
“Don’t call me that,” he said softly, but his voice held a determination that the older man had never heard before.
“What?”
“I’m not going to be a Jedi, so you don’t need to give me that respect.”
Since he was still holding the younger man in his arms, Obi-Wan never saw the wicked smile flitter across the Senator’s elegant face and disappear. “So, what should I call you?”
The boy pulled away from the comfort of the older man’s arms. “My name, I guess. Ben’ar Kenobi.” A sudden rush of anguish washed over him, and he almost burst into tears. “What am I going to do, Nevyn? They’re going to send me away. I’ll be a farmer.” His disgust with his probable fate was electric, and even someone blind to the Force would have felt the emotions pouring from him.
The older man stroked the cropped hair on the boy’s head. “Ben’ar? Ben, perhaps? It suits you.” Obi-Wan -- Ben smiled at his friend’s pleasure. “Stay for dinner,” Nevyn suggested. “I have to meet with some representatives from the Trade Federation, but I’ll be back soon.”
“Can I stay here tonight?” Ben asked hopefully.
“Won’t they be looking for you?” asked Nevyn.
Ben had looked up the name once, to discover that it was a word in an Ancient tongue, that meant ‘no one.’ It amused him to be able to truthfully tell his teachers that he’d been out with ‘no one.’ “Let them,” he said, and his voice was cold and determined once again.
Nevyn shrugged, secretly pleased with his young companion’s defiance for reasons of his own. “You are always welcome here. Just remember the rules.”
Ben smiled, a coquettish smile far beyond his not-yet-thirteen years. “I know, I’m too young.”
“Now, stop that, Ben,” said Nevyn firmly. “I have a reputation to protect.” The boy was too inexperienced to read Nevyn’s true thoughts, and had no idea that just the discussions that he engaged in regularly with the older man were far beyond the lines of decency in almost every part of the galaxy.
Ben rolled his eyes. “I know, good and honest Senators don’t go around seducing young Jedi neophytes.” Ben smiled again. “Well, I’m not a neophyte anymore.”
“Yes, well,” said Nevyn calmly as he gathered his reports and papers for his meeting, “all you have to work on is the ‘young’ part. Help yourself to some food,” he called out as he left.
Ben stretched out on the couch. Nevyn had room service, and didn’t care if the boy put his feet up on the furniture. Nevyn’s suite was a welcome refuge from the constant strictures of the Jedi Temple. And the man ... Ben smiled to himself as he remembered their first meeting. He’d been running through the marketplace, trying to get back to the Temple in time for his next class, and he’d run headlong into the older man, knocking the dignified Senator into a nearby stall that sold liquid desserts.
He’d been utterly mortified at the mess that he had caused, and all thoughts of his class were wiped from his mind when he realized that the man had broken his arm in the fall. Ben had helped him back to his place, and healed him as best he could. The Senator was more amused than angry, and was more than happy to accept his company. Ben had introduced himself, and the Senator had asked him to call him ‘Nevyn,’ ever wary of his delicate position.
Nevyn didn’t hide his feelings, and after spending all his time with the repressed Jedi, Ben enjoyed just being around the older man. His openness was calming, and Nevyn never got angry with him, although he did laugh at him a lot. But it never made Ben angry, they way the cold disregard of his teachers did.
Their relationship had slowly grown from simple friendship into something infinitely more dangerous, both to a student at the Jedi Temple and a Senator of Nevyn’s stature.
Nevyn encouraged Ben to be honest with him, and the first stirrings of puberty had led him to admit a certain fascination with the older man. In return, Nevyn had admitted his own growing attraction to the young Jedi in training. But Nevyn had demanded that they not act on their feelings, and Ben had agreed.
Privately, he didn’t believe that he was too young, but he had intended to at least become a full Padawan before committing himself to the kind of relationship that Nevyn wanted. But all that was gone now. He was never going to be a Padawan. He was too old, and he didn’t know what to do with himself now.
Ben knew that he didn’t want to go into the AgriCorps. He had no interest in farming, and the assignments tended to be in the most far-flung, out-of-the-way places in the galaxy, and he would have very few, if any, chances to see Nevyn. And that was unacceptable.
Ben got up, and walked into the library. Nevyn had every form of data access imaginable at his fingertips, and allowed Ben free use of his library. Ben sat down at the smaller of the two desks, and began researching what possible career options a boy with his training could follow.
He lost track of time as he searched, as he was easily distracted by tangents. Ben looked up at the feel of gentle hands on his shoulder, and looked up to see that Nevyn had returned. “Is it dinnertime already?”
“Yes. Now come eat something before you waste away to nothing in front of that viewscreen.”
Ben jumped out of his chair, and slid his hand into Nevyn’s. “You wouldn’t like that at all, would you?”
“Mind your manners, Ben,” Nevyn chided him gently, but took the sting out of his words by squeezing Ben’s hand after he spoke.
Ben smiled up at him, and they walked into the small dining room. A simple meal was laid out. They said down next to each other at the table.
“I was thinking about your future while I was out.”
“So was I,” answered Ben.
“This is going to sound a little strange, but I know someone who could use another hand on his ship, and I think you might fit there.”
Ben smiled eagerly. “A starship?” Nevyn nodded. “What’s so strange about that? That sounds great!”
Nevyn raised a hand in warning. “Well, the captain operates ... shall we say, outside the realm of the law on occasion. Would you be comfortable with that?”
“A pirate?” said Ben incredulously. “Now, how did you get to meet a pirate?”
Nevyn shook his head, with a sardonic smile. “Not as bad as that. Call him a ‘privateer,’ rather.”
Ben laughed. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“Nor you mine.”
He shrugged. “I don’t really care one way or the other.” Ben lifted his chin in unconscious defiance of the teachings he had struggled so hard to embrace all his life.
Nevyn nodded. “Well, then. I’ll take you to meet him tomorrow. Are you sure you don’t want to go back to the Temple? Is there anything you want to take with you?”
“No,” Ben shook his head. “I didn’t leave anything behind.” In his heart, he knew it to be a lie. He knew that he would miss his friends and his teachers, and part of him desperately wanted to run back to them and say goodbye. But he knew that if he went back, it would be as a failure.
It was just easier to stay here with Nevyn.
Again, lost as he was in a moment of private contemplation, Ben completely missed the wicked smile that darkened the Senator’s face for a moment. By the time he looked up again, Nevyn’s face was the quiet mask that Ben was most used to seeing.
Nevyn smiled suddenly. “You’ll need some new clothes. No one will let you go anywhere dressed like that.”
“I don’t have any money,” said Ben, and then he flushed in embarrassment. Nevyn laughed at him. “I guess you’ll be buying,” he said sheepishly.
Nevyn didn’t stop laughing. He rose from the table, gesturing for Ben to do the same. “Let’s measure you,” he said, finally controlling his mirth. “We can order some things for you right away.”
“Okay.” Ben shrugged off his robes and pulled off his tunic. He moved to pull off his leggings, but Nevyn stopped him.
“That’s enough.”
Ben grinned mischievously. “Yes, sir.” Nevyn ignored him, and began measuring. Ben took a deep breath, and tried to stand still. The feather-light touches on his arms and all over his back were maddening. His young body stirred with fiercely suppressed desire. Finally, when Nevyn knelt to measure his legs, Ben leaned over and kissed him.
Nevyn was surprised at first, and Ben pulled away quickly. He didn’t want to make his friend angry. The kiss was sweet, but nowhere near as innocent as it should have been.
The older man rose to his feet, and stepped away from Ben. “Please don’t,” he said softly. “Or I’ll have to ask you to leave.”
“Don’t make me leave,” Ben pleaded. “I won’t - I won’t do that again. I promise.”
Ben dropped his eyes to the floor, and waited. The moment passed.
“Come here,” said Nevyn, and gave Ben a quick hug. “I believe this is as hard for you as it is for me.”
“It is.”
“Well, put your clothes back on, little nudist, and we’ll see what new things we can find for you.”
Ben poked out his tongue at his friend, but happily complied with his orders before joining him in front of the communications terminal. They accessed a number of catalogue sites, and Nevyn jokingly suggested various ridiculous outfits. Their laughter rang through the room.
Ben watched as Nevyn’s eyes lingered on a set of skintight black leggings. When the older man went to move the catalogue to the next page, he said innocently, “What about that?”
“Really, Ben, it’s too dark,” Nevyn protested.
Ben put out his hand to stop him from turning the page. “I think it would be a nice change. It would look good on me!”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” said Nevyn under his breath. “Well, if you want to try it,” he said reluctantly.
Ben smiled. “I’ll look like a real pirate.”
“Privateer,” corrected Nevyn with a laugh. But he ordered the outfit, and a few more like it..
“I guess we’re done now?” asked Ben. He was a little uncomfortable with how much Nevyn had already spent.
“Not quite,” corrected the older man. “But we’re done here.” The screen flashed, and the terminal went dark. “Come.” Nevyn led him to a closet, opening it to reveal a selection of weapons. “Do you know how to use any of these?”
Ben swallowed nervously, and shrugged. “Yeah.” It hadn’t occurred to him that he would need to defend himself. “I don’t really want to, though.”
“Please, Ben. I’m going to worry enough about you as it is. Life outside the Temple is going to be very different.” Nevyn laid a gentle hand on Ben’s shoulder. “Please, promise me you’ll take care of yourself.”
Ben nodded. He closed his eyes, and took a deep breath before opening them again. When he did, the first thing he saw was a long, slender knife. The lights danced along the slight curve of the silvery blade. Ben picked up the knife. It was a little large for his hand, but it still felt good. He tossed it into the air, testing its weight and balance.
“Ben, shouldn’t you -- ”
Without acknowledging the fact that Nevyn had begun to speak, Ben turned and threw the knife at the terminal. It flew straight and true, shattering the screen. Ben walked over to check the knife’s condition. “I like it,” he said with a calm he did not feel as he ran his fingers over the blade. “Good blade.” Somehow, he managed to keep his voice from shaking with terror. He’d never known that he harbored such violence in his soul.
“Nice shot,” said Nevyn in astonished awe.
Ben walked back to the closet, and selected a pair of blasters. One hold-out blaster, to be concealed, and one light blaster for ‘everyday’ use.
“You’re not going to shoot anything, are you?” asked Nevyn.
Ben smiled. “No, I’m done now.”
“Then let’s try and get some sleep. We have a lot to do tomorrow.”
“Something’s wrong, Captain.”
Je’Re’Ios Etric, Captain of the (currently) licensed private light frigate, the Des’Etric, rolled his eyes. “Kid, I don’t have time for your feelings. This deal is hot, and I’m not going to miss out on it.”
Ben frowned. “Don’t call me ‘Kid,’ Etric. I know what I’m talking about. Something’s wrong.”
The captain rolled his eyes. “Okay, true. Your ‘danger sense’ is pretty infallible. But I’ve known Andellan for years now. She wouldn’t double-cross me. Just because the meet codes got a little scrambled is no reason to get cold feet.”
“I don’t like it,” said Ben emphatically. At almost nineteen years Standard, he was the youngest crew member of the Des’Etric, but everyone on board knew that it wouldn’t be long before Ben left to get his own ship. He learned fast; too fast for Etric’s taste, and his pretty face had secured as many connections for the business as Etric’s experience had. Perhaps more, if you (correctly) assumed that he didn’t tell Etric everything.
The Des’Etric was en route to pick up a shipment of Legollaen dratomyte, an extremely expensive medical substance that reduced the signs of aging and sometimes even slowed the aging process for carbon-based lifeforms. It was also highly addictive, and was therefore controlled in most parts of the Galaxy. The Trade Federation’s taxes could be prohibitive, so many systems, desperate for a supply, hired people to move the substance outside of normal shipping lanes.
Under normal circumstances, Ben would have had no problem with the job. But from the beginning, he had been suspicious of the captain’s old ‘friend’ and it had gotten worse lately. Now they were in deep space, waiting like sitting ducks for something to happen.