Chapter Text
It was his sixth year anniversary with the Agricorps, and he smiled his way through it, as he had every other day since he got here, though his smile was always a little more disingenuous than usual on this particular day of the year.
“Kenobi!” Ralas called, his situation was the same as Obi-Wan’s though he was older, had been here longer. The same ship had deposited him on Bandomeer three years before it did Obi-Wan, when he had failed to ensnare a master. “Drinks later?” He asked, jogging up beside him and swinging an arm around Obi-Wan’s shoulder.
“I could be amenable,” Obi-Wan replied, though he didn’t feel like it, he knew wallowing was no way to spend any day. It was not becoming a jedi, not that Obi-Wan was one anymore.
“That's what I like to hear,” Ralas grinned. “You working on the bean field today?”
“Today, yesterday, probably tomorrow too,” Obi-Wan replied, why beans of all things responded to him best he would never know, he had always been more adept with the unifying force than the living, and though he had tried to keep up with his training, that still had yet to change.
Keeping up with his training. As if that wasn’t a bad joke. He meditated every morning and evening, did katas with the sunrise, all day when he wasn’t working, he kept his connection to the force strong. He had no lightsaber, but used other things as stand-ins for the weapon, practicing his forms and keeping his skills as sharp as possible without a sparring partner or training droid.
He lived by the code, striving for serenity and order, even though he had failed to become a jedi and didn’t need to anymore. He had even kept his hair cropped short, despite the fact that when he had been a youngling, he had had an overwhelming desire to grow it. When I’m a knight , he had always thought. Foolish, really.
Ralas and the others used to tease him for his habits, for keeping to the ways of an order he did not belong to, in his first year here they had spent long hours every week trying to convince him to ‘loosen up’, live for himself, build a real life, full of emotion and attachment. They didn’t try often any longer, only perhaps when they were drunk, though the tone of the conversation had changed over the year, gone was the teasing and coaxing, instead it was clear that they thought Obi-Wan a little tragic.
Obi-Wan struggled to understand any of them, the ones who had also come from the temple, they seemed glad to be free of the order. Sad when they arrived, melancholy as Obi-Wan had been, but it only took them a few months to shake that feeling off, to forsake their upbringing in favour of small pleasures and personal freedoms. Obi-Wan didn’t understand how they believed that being able to party and kiss and fuck could ever be better than becoming a jedi.
But his situation was a little different to theirs. He had passed the initiate trials, was strong and skilled in the force, enough to become a jedi padawan; but there had been no master that wanted him - on his kinder days he told himself that he had been unlucky, that it wasn’t that he was unwanted, only that hsi timing had been poor. A weak excuse, even to his own ears. He had begged for a chance to prove himself, and been deposited on a transport.
He still dreamed though, there was a reason why he kept to his meditations and katas, why he still lived by the code and kept his hair short, owned only what little he needed to survive, gave the rest of his pay away. It was because a part of him still believed that one day a jedi master would come to Bandomeer, find some trouble or peril here, and Obi-Wan would be able to save them, that the master would realise that a grave mistake - and unfair oversight - had been made in his case, and would take him under their wing to train him. Even at nineteen, he still managed to convince himself that it would happen.
A childish fancy, but one that got him through the day, and one which he clung to with more genuine belief than he cared to admit. He knew the force intended him to be a jedi, and he trusted in its will.
It wasn’t all bad of course, he had friends here, and the work was rewarding, but it didn’t change the fact that his very presence on this planet was a reminder of his failure.
Ralas made a joke about beans that Obi-Wan failed to catch, lost in his own melancholy thoughts as he was, but he laughed dutifully, and worked to release his more negative feelings to the force. Then he resolved to pay more attention to his friend when he was speaking, it was no use being rude, keeping focus on the here and now had always been something that he had struggled with as an initiate. He sometimes wondered if that was the flaw that had stopped a master from taking him on, and if not that, then what?
The afternoon rolled around and soon enough Obi-Wan was being bustled along by his friends - and some people who were not his friends, but worked with him and liked any excuse for a night out - to a nearby bar, frequented mostly by other Agricorps workers. They celebrated Obi-Wan’s sixth year with them as if it really was something to celebrate at all, and Obi-Wan smiled and laughed and went along with it.
He was teased - as he always was - when he stayed away from all the alcoholic beverages, though the teasing was always careful now, none of them wanting to sully the evening with the rabbit hole that was the fact that Obi-Wan did still live like a jedi, and more to the point, why he did so.
Some of them gave him gifts, and Obi-Wan suppressed his urge to turn them away, accepting such things was not the jedi way, but it would only seem ungrateful, and possibly trigger a round of pitying looks that he did not wish to receive.
As he did sometimes, Naswa, one of Obi-Wan’s other friends, a togruta with delicate face markings that had been all but relieved to have failed his initiate trials, tried to draw Obi-Wan into a quiet conversation. Obi-Wan was usually adept at dodging these attempts, because he knew what came next, but the rest of their group was busy doing shots, so he had little excuse from speaking alone with Naswa.
As he knew would happen, after a little while Naswa - cheeks rosy from drink - started saying sweet things with a hand on Obi-Wan’s knee and an increasingly smooth attempt to catch Obi-Wan’s lips with his own.
“Must we always do this?” Obi-Wan asked, a little exasperated as he stopped his friend with a firm hand, the togruta grinned at him and leant back.
“Sorry sorry, it’s those green eyes you can’t blame me for trying. You know, one of these days you’ll say yes. If not to me then at least to someone. Can’t be a saint forever,” Naswa said, and Obi-Wan was unreasonably grateful that he hadn’t said jedi.
“I really don’t think that’s true,” Obi-Wan said, because Naswa made it sound like it was a case of him not finding him attractive, that one day Obi-Wan would find someone he was attracted to and he would be caught. But Obi-Wan did find Naswa attractive, he was a handsome man and he had never denied the fact, and in his weaker moments during his middle teenage years, he had wondered, had wanted, even. But entanglements was something that the jedi simply didn’t do, emotional or physical, so Obi-wan didn’t do it either.
The evening wound down for Obi-Wan as it started to really wind up for his friends, and they booed and teased in good fun when Obi-Wan begged off to head home early, but as merry as they all were, they let him go without much hassle, especially when he paid for a parting round for them.
When he reached his small, sparse apartment - jedi only had what they needed to live - Obi-Wan had a shower, washing off the general grime of the bar, before settling in for his meditation. He thought on his six years on Bandomeer, thought on what he had achieved; his improvement was limited, due to his lack of a master to show him new things, but he was stronger than he had been on the day he arrived, considerably so, and he allowed himself a moment of pride over that fact, before releasing his emotions back to the force.
He had eaten before he went out that evening, but allowed himself a cup of his preferred blend of tea before heading to bed, one of the presents from his friends, to celebrate his ‘bandoversay’, as they liked to call it. Sometimes Obi-Wan wished he could be like them, that life could be so simple for him, but the force tugged at him, filled him up and told him he was meant for more.
The days spun on, as days were wont to do, and Obi-Wan worked the fields and spent time with his friends, meditated and ran katas in the safety of privacy. It was some weeks later, when Obi-Wan felt a disturbance in the force at the Agricorps center. None of his friends felt it, never as in tune with the force as he had been, and their skills had been waning from lack of use for years and years. But it was as clear as the rising sun to Obi-Wan, when he approached the field for the day, that something was happening inside the main building.
He reached out with his feelings, and felt his heart leap at what he found. A force signature, wrapped up in a person and strong , so very strong that it felt loud in Obi-Wan’s mind. He was so excited, so caught up in the idea that this, today, could be the day he had been waiting for for six years, that he was almost at the door to the building when he realised that what he was feeling was not light .
He faltered, pulled his hand away from the doorknob. The force was strong with whoever was inside that place, but not strong with the light side. A sith, or at the very least, a strong force users that had shrouded themselves in the easy power of the dark side.
He worried for a moment, for the people inside the building, but when he reached out again he felt no malice or violence, not from anyone inside, and nothing felt wrong , per say. So Obi-Wan had no reason to go inside, and stepped away from the door, shoulders slumping as tried to figure out what to do. The force was no help, offering him no guidance or clear path, and so Obi-Wan idled, caught in between wanting to meet this force user, and wanting to return to his work, and stay away from this darkness.
The decision was taken out of his hands, when the door opened from the inside, and the owner of the Agricorps, Mr Buli Jillara came out, a tall, imposing man beside him who made Oi-Wan’s breath catch. He towered a full head above Jillara, had long dark brown hair pulled away from his temples and streaked with silver, his face was almost unbearably handsome, with a strong nose and well kept beard, and his eyes had the tell tale yellow tint of a sith.
He was broad as well as tall, and it made him seem to devour the space around him with his presence, and he was dressed in a finely made black suit that was tailored to his shape, though Obi-Wan could see no jacket. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to his elbows, revealing tattooed forearms with designs that Obi-Wan dared not look close enough to discover, and his large hands were encased in sleek leather gloves. Over one arm hung a long coat, too hot for the weather on Bandomeer today, and off his belt hung a lightsaber, that Obi-Wan had no doubt glowed with a red blade.
Perhaps what surprised Obi-Wan the most, was that he knew who the man was, and stumbled a step backwards. It was Qui-Gon Jinn, he had left the order when Obi-Wan was a youngling, along with his master, Dooku, and they had both embraced the dark side. The last Obi-Wan had heard of Jinn six years ago, was that he had become a sith, and controlled the mob in the outer rim.
Obi-Wan felt frozen, Jinn’s eyes had snapped to him as soon as the door had opened, regarding him with a piercing stare that made Obi-Wan feel flayed open and trapped. Mr Jillara scowled and looked ready to reprimand Obi-Wan for being where he shouldn’t - and in the way of what was clearly an important guest, if Mr Jillara’s improved dress was anything to go back - when Jinn spoke instead.
“Buli, you didn’t tell me you had a padawan here.”
“Ah, just Obi-Wan, a temple reject just like the rest, insists on keeping that haircut though, and living by that stuffy code,” Mr Jillara replied, attempting to wave off Obi-Wan’s presence and steer Jinn away, but the sith remained fixed on him.
“That can’t be, initiates only fail when they lack strength in the force, and I can feel you thrumming with it,” Jinn’s voice was deep, and pitched low, Obi-Wan forced to suppress a shiver that tried to run through him.
“I passed the initiate trials, but there was no master to take me,” Obi-Wan said when he had intended only silence, and he wondered for a moment if Qui-Gon had suggested him with the force, or if he hadn’t even needed to do so. Power pouring off of him, something that felt almost magnetic, pulling Obi-Wan in, dragging him inexorably towards this man.
“How foolish of them, to let one as bright as you slip through their fingers. Had I still been chained to that place, I would have taken you as my own,” Jinn replied, and Obi-Wan found himself swallowing thickly, suddenly irrationally angry at this man for giving into the dark side.
“Instead you gave into the dark side, allowed yourself to be seduced.”
“Oh, and what would you know of it?” Jinn asked, a heavy brow raised as his eyes studying Obi-Wan with an interest that made him squirm.
“I know who you are, I remember when you left the order, who you are now, Darth Avarus,” Obi-Wan replied, feeling only for a second that he had found his footing, and losing it quickly again when Qui-Gon fixed him with a smile, somewhere between mocking and amused.
“You misunderstand me, what I meant was; what do you know of seduction? Living as you do, even when you need not, I’ll bet you’re as pure and perfect as the day you were abandoned here.”
“I - ” Obi-Wan tried, but he had no idea how to respond, Jinn cocked his head to the side, his eyes ranking up Obi-Wan in a way that made him feel stripped bare.
“Leave Buli, I wish to speak with Obi-Wan alone,” Jinn dismissed Jillara, and he shuffled off dutifully, Jinn clearly holding the control here. It was difficult for Obi-Wan to think of a scenario where Jinn wouldn’t be the one in control. Jinn continued only when Jillara was gone. “Tell me, why do you still keep to the code?” Jinn asked, and Obi-Wan was embarrassed for his answer.
“It is how I was raised,” he hedged, wondering how he would escape this man, sparing a thought for the fact that he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to.
“No, there is a different reason why you repress your most basic urges and instincts, even now. You look what, eighteen years old? Five years without the order is plenty of time to rewrite what you learnt.”
“I’m nineteen,” Obi-Wan replied, as if that was the point here at all, but his throat felt dry.
“My mistake,” Jinn replied. “But if you wish to evade, then I think I shall tell you what I think is the reason you do it? Living that consummate jedi life even after they’d thrown you away, I think you hoped a jedi master might come here one day, realise how strong you are, and break some rules to take you on anyway,” Jinn said, cutting open the reasons Obi-Wan tried to hide easily and without mercy, his voice was mocking and Obi-Wan was unable to summon a denial, he would only see through it. Jinn chuckled again and caught Obi-wan’s chin with his large fingers, forcing him to look him in the eye. “Oh pet, have you not realised yet, the jedi never break their precious rules.”
“Are you done mocking me, yet?” Obi-Wan asked, hands balling into fists by his sides - he needed to meditate more, emotions were catching up with him more and more these days - he pulled his face away when Jinn pressed his thumb against his lower lip, failing to hide his blush. He hoped it would be attributed to embarrassment.
“Forgive me, in this, the order deserves my mockery far more than you do.” Qui-Gon mused, letting his hand drop.
“What do you mean?”
“To let you go? It’s criminal. You’re powerful, Obi-Wan, I can practically taste it on you.”
“I don’t wish to be powerful, only to serve as a jedi.”
“Well, I don’t see any jedi around here, do you? Not you, and certainly not me,” Jinn replied.
“Is there a point to this?” Obi-Wan asked, feeling compelled to meet Jinn’s gaze, despite the way it made him feel uneasy inside, for reasons he couldn’t quite define, though he longed to simply attribute it to the dark side of the force.
“I have a proposal for you, one that I think would suit us both nicely.”
“Oh?” Obi-Wan replied, knowing he would refuse it, that there was nothing a sith could offer him that wouldn’t be unsavory at best and dangerous at worst; he knew better than to tangle with someone like Jinn.
“Leave this place with me, and I will train you, as you clearly so desperately desire,” Jinn offered, and Obi-Wan froze for the second time, though his heart jackrabbited in his chest with how much it tempted him.
“Train me in the dark side, you mean.”
“They are the same, all that matters is what parts of yourself you pull on for that connection; serenity or passion. So in that respect, it would be your choice, not mine,” Jinn answered, his words careful.
He used the dark side, everything he taught Obi-Wan would be couched in the dark, but he was right; light and dark was more of a choice than anything else, the question was did Obi-Wan believe he was strong enough to resist the siren call of the dark when he was being trained by a teacher who embraced it, who would no doubt want Obi-Wan to do the same.
A thought came to Obi-Wan, that perhaps, if he was strong enough, he could accept the training from Jinn, reach his potential, and when he was stronger, perhaps an opportunity would present itself in the future, to leave Jinn, and be accepted into the temple. He was too far behind where he should be, he knew even if he never wanted to admit it, that no master would ever take him on as he was now. No master but Jinn.
But he had kept to the code for six years without guidance, without faltering, in the face of many temptations he had stayed strong, in meditation he always found solace, a release for his emotions. A plan began to form in his head, to take the training from Jinn, and use those teachings as a springboard to return to his home. He imagined bringing down Jinn himself, for the order would surely accept him as a jed if he wasi the man who brought down Darth Avarus.
He was about to open his mouth to accept, when he realised he had only heard half of the bargain.
“What’s in it for you?” Obi-Wan asked, biting at his lip as a slow, indolent smile spread out over Jinn’s face.
“In exchange you would give yourself to me,” Jinn answered, the way he was looking at Obi-Wan left no mistaking his meaning, but still Obi-Wan couldn’t help his squeaked response, painted with disbelief.
“What?”
“Your body, your time. You would be mine ,” Jinn’s voice was almost a growl and Obi-Wan could feel his heartbeat in his throat, couldn’t believe that he was still somehow considering it. He could be strong, couldn’t he? Could do this to gain the training that he might one day be able to use to help hundreds of people.
“I would be your slave?”
“You would be my companion,” Jinn corrected, though Obi-Wan wasn’t sure the distinction, when making deals with sith. He stepped closer, ran a finger along Obi-Wan’s jaw. “You would be free to end the arrangement and leave whenever you pleased,” Jinn added, and Obi-Wan felt his desire to go with him grow; if he would be free to leave, then there was little risk, wasn’t there.
Though, the smarter part of his mind knew that the word of a sith meant very little.
“You promise?” He asked anyway, that almost-mocking smile back on Jinn’s handsome face, that made it clear he thought Obi-Wan was naive, that made it even clearer that he liked that.
“Yes pet, I promise. Though I don’t believe you will want to, after some time. I am an excellent teacher in a great many things,” his voice was low and seductive, his fingers burning a path along Obi-Wan’s skin.
“I need to think about it,” Obi-Wan said, he needed to get away from Jinn and clear hsi head of his influence before he made a rash decision.
“I will only be here until the end of the day, if you haven’t decided by then then I will leave you here, and you can kiss goodbye those dreams you’re clinging to.”
“I’m not clinging to anything,” Obi-Wan lied, and Jinn’s dark chuckle told him that the sith knew, that he was as transparent as he felt, under those eyes.
“Wasting time denying what is obvious favours no one. Meet me at my ship by nineteenth hour, or spend the rest of your life harvesting plants and wasting your potential. I hope to see you there, my padawan.”