Chosen 4: Balance, a very alternate universe Star Wars (Kenobi / Maul) story by Glacis. Rated NC-17 for adult themes and sexual activity. No copyright infringement intended. Takes place immediately after 'Trials'. Fourth and final story in the series.

Sneaking onto Maltecha was easier than he'd expected. The traffic around the spaceport was chaotic, and Kenobi planed in behind a cruiser, masking his pod's signature in the ambient energy of the much larger ship. Once under the planet sensor grid, he piloted the pod to a soft landing outside the main settlement sprawl, and slogged his way to the central city on foot.

In his worn natural fiber tunic and leggings, he could have been anyone; a farm boy coming in for the season's end, a worker seeking distraction, a wanderer waiting for adventure. Long hair swinging against his shoulders, light saber hilt carefully hidden under a fold in his tunic, dust streaking his clothing and boots, he fit in well with the swarms of Maltech, aliens and travelers bustling through the streets. Beneath the typical hustle of a city, however, he felt something unusual. Metallic.

Fear.

These people were scared half to death, and intent on not showing it.

Loitering for a moment next to a shop window, ostensibly peering at the bill of goods displayed there but actually watching the reflection of the street behind him intently, he could see why.

Battle droids.

Everywhere.

Ducking through alleyways and cutting through back entrances and out side doors, he made his way to the minor Jedi temple in a suburb of the main city. He'd risked a single burst of low-energy Force seeking earlier, with no results. Now, he saw why.

The temple was nothing but rubble and dust. Bits of cloth and broken tile showed where gathering rooms had once been, and his nose wrinkled at the stench of congealed blood and fetid flesh on the air. Jedi had been butchered like animals and left to rot. His stomach revolted, but he forced himself to look past the carnage. Any clues he gathered would be keys to their enemy's downfall.

What he saw shook him to the soles of his boots.

Vandals had desecrated what little remained of the temple, and graffiti defaced the walls, spewing filth and lies about the Jedi, the Code, the Force. The Jedi were to blame for everything, the food shortage, the lack of medicines; they'd plundered planets to support themselves in grand temples while the people had nothing, and when the truth became known they'd attacked the people directly. The people had risen up and slain the foul creatures, taking back what was theirs.

So read the hatred scratched into the stones of what had been the temple of the Guardians of the Galaxy.

Staring at the ruins, he was aware of an slight ripple in the Force. Glancing off to the side, following the disturbance, he saw a young Maltech female, barely past her adolescence. She stared back, then broke off the exchange of glances and disappeared into the side street to the west of the temple ruins. Listening to his instinct, guided by the Force, he followed her.

She'd been an apprentice, visiting her family when the attack came.

She knew the truth.

She knew others who also knew the truth.

They were not afraid of death. They were more afraid of what their lives would become under the 'benevolent' rule of the Emperor.

They were the core of the first resistance cell.

They were the first of many.

"There is a pattern here, Apprentice," the low voice hissed through the holoimage. Maul winced, caught it before it became apparent, and nodded. "You will quell it before others are infected with the same hopeless stupidity."

"Yes, my master." He was going nowhere. The Force had drawn him to Tatooine, and there he would remain. "The disturbances appear to have begun here in the Rim, master. I shall discover and crush whoever is responsible for them."

"Do not be distracted, apprentice." There was a hint of knowledge and the ring of command in Sidious' voice. "Events are at a pivotal point and must not be allowed to fall the wrong way. Concentrate on your mission."

"Yes, my master." He most certainly would. He just didn't see fit to inform his master precisely what his primary mission was. The transmission ended, and he smiled, closer to a snarl, at the blank space his master's image had recently filled. The Jedi was close.

Very close.

Deep in a cavern on the forest planet D'rel'j, a tiny holoimage appeared. A man in gray-white linen sat cross-legged before it. The small green visage stared up at him.

"You have done well. Spreading, is the resistance."

"Civil war is breaking out, Master. This has to be ended, and quickly, before brother turns against brother, and the scars are too deep to heal."

"One more cell, you must create, then join us, you will."

Red-rimmed blue eyes peered from a dirty face, lines of fatigue scoring the pale skin beneath the grime. "How long, master?"

"Four days you have, no more, no less. To Tatooine, you will go. Much havoc, there. A great darkness in the Force there is over the planet. Great care, you must exercise."

"I'll try, Master Yoda."

"There is no try, there is only do, or not do."

The drawn face remained perfectly calm. "Then I shall do."

The small head nodded, long ears up and alert, belying the weariness in Yoda's own eyes. "The Force be with you, young Kenobi."

"And with you, Master." With a flicker, the holoimage blinked out. The young man stared at the emptiness in the cave, and crushed the need to see his true master before it could cause him to do something foolish, like reach out through the Force.

He had work to do. When it was over, when he returned from Tatooine, then he would allow himself to think of Qui Gon.

Not until then.

Two large, robed figures slid like shadows through the hallways of the Imperial Senate. Guard droids didn't see them; spy cameras glossed over them. Their footsteps made no noise; their passage made no imprint on the minds of those they passed.

Two hands, one dark, one light, reached out to two twinned panels. A screen flared to life in a darkened room, showing a black-hooded figure on a high throne before a field of stars in a circular chamber. Two heads lowered over the screen. As the hood began to shift, somehow sensing their regard, a hand waved over a sensor pad, and the screen went dark.

One entrance. One exit.

A phalanx of forty guards, plus droids.

A Sith Master.

This was not going to be easy.

Nothing worthwhile ever was.

Turning as one, the two Jedi masters drifted from the compound to the small room in the warren of poor housing units in the slums of the city. There, they joined the third. Deep into the night, they planned.

They would have one chance to rid the galaxy of this evil, before it sank such deep roots it would be generations before it could be excised. They must cut it out now, before the hold was too strong. And so they laid out their time tables, synchronized their attack, and dealt treason to the newly formed Empire.

To save a galaxy, they would kill a self-crowned King.

Centered deep within himself after they had broken for rest, Qui Gon Jinn ached with the need to send out a message to his Padawan through their bond. He needed to know the boy, the man, was safe. Well. Returning.

He damped down the need, ignored the ache, and settled down to sleep. As always, the needs of others would come before his own.

For the greater good.

It didn't make it ache any less.

He'd felt the presence before he made landing, but he didn't let himself be distracted. A small corner of Kenobi's mind laughed out loud -- it was so fitting that the place he'd lost himself as a Jedi would be the place of his final, most difficult trial. To return to the scene of his defilement, under the nose of his defiler, evade the demon, spark a resistance, then disappear to strike the final blow; it was a beautiful scenario, one of justice, not vengeance.

Of course it couldn't work out that way.

Initial contact completed, the eight conspirators and their Jedi leader met in a sandy-floored hole-in-the-wall housing unit in the slaves' quarters. Munitions dumps, communication centers, command nodes and supply lines were the topic of final plans, when Kenobi's head jerked up and his eyes widened.

"Out!" he spat, not giving them time to question. "Now!"

A fraction behind his reaction, they heard what he'd sensed : Imperial killing droids, a squad at least, maybe more. Data tablets disappeared in a flash of hands and the conspirators scattered to the winds. Kenobi stayed where he was, swaying slightly on his feet, his left hand sweeping his light saber from its hidden loop and activating it in one smooth motion.

So strong.

So seductive.

Anything but good.

The harsh bark of the droid captain snapping out orders barely impinged on his mind. His entire being was concentrated on the threat sweeping through the front door.

Singing to him through the Force.

The itch had been growing stronger for the past three days, until it was nearly unbearable. Giving in to the demand, Maul ordered a troop of assassin droids to accompany him, and went prowling on patrol. His instincts were correct, as expected.

The pull led him directly to the Jedi.

He felt the jolt of recognition and smiled ferally. An instant later he heard the puny pawns of the Jedi run, and waved the droids off to hunt them down. His own prey was much more challenging.

And it was all his.

Stepping through the door, he saw the Jedi, waiting for him. He looked much healthier, if disappointingly clothed. There was an excitement in meeting him at strength, like this. The wheat gold hair was longer, shining, shifting about the broad shoulders, and the body that had been marked and starved now was lean and strong. Competent hands curled in fists around the hilt of his activated lightsaber, and the softly planed face was serene in the vivid blue glow of the weapon, lids half closed over sharp sky-clear eyes.

Those eyes still burned.

With an inarticulate cry composed as much of lust as it was of rage, he sprang forward, his light staff coming to life in his hands. The Jedi met him blow for blow, leaping, twisting, springing with deadly grace in response to every strike.

It was exhilarating.

The battle shifted and wrenched between them. He brought his staff in a quick triple strike that the Jedi barely parried, and the blue fire slapped upward to slice against the lower side of his hilt, disabling the right half of his staff. Flowing without pause from staff attack to saber attack, he came back to the battle full force.

It was exciting.

The Jedi threw himself to the side, escaping a downward hack by a hair's breadth, then rolled, sprang over Maul's head in a tuck and thrust move, landing cat-light behind him. Maul pivoted in place, weaving to the left as the blue saber swung up, neatly side-stepping a sure decapitation. Red fire met blue, wavered, sparked, slid apart with a shriek like rending metal.

Something strange was happening.

As he tired from the almost demented pace of the battle and called more and more upon the Force to sustain him, the tempo of the battle slowed. Their movements synchronized, became a dance, not of death, as it should be, but more of mirror images faintly seen from the corner of the eye. Light sabers clashed, screeched, broke apart; legs kicked out, arms strained, backs twisted with effort; sweat sheened their faces and stung their eyes.

The Force flowed around them. The killing field it had become the first time they met became something more.

Something unusual.

Something unique.

It wrapped around them, misty white and inky black, not repulsing as it should, but rather joining, entwining, weaving to create patterns of fate that had never before been seen. Light was not overpowering Dark, and Dark was not enveloping Light.

There was no winner. No loser.

A leveling in the Force.

As there had never been.

Slowly, the battle wound down, as both participants become aware of the bizarre situation occurring in the Living Force around them. Maul stared, fascinated, as the shadows passed over his opponent's face. The deep blue eyes narrowed, then widened. Horror flashed through their depths, but it didn't taste unusually sweet to the Sith. It tasted … right.

The Jedi didn't agree.

With a low howl of "No!" he brought his light saber up, disrupting the shifting patterns in the Force. Maul reacted instinctively to the movement, bringing his own weapon up. The blades caught, and Maul twisted the hilt of the saber from the Jedi's grasp. It flew to the edge of the hut, impacting with the wall, deactivating and falling to the floor. The sizzle of red energy lay against the Jedi's throat.

Against the braid of hair wound around the white skin.

"Please." Despite the word, it wasn't a plea. It was a command. But he couldn't decide what the Jedi was telling him to do. Staring into those defiant, distraught eyes, he realized the Jedi was telling him to end it, to kill him.

To his intense shock, he also realized he couldn't.

The patterns in the Force stabilized again, and Maul felt it moving through him. It touched all the dark places inside that had been so used to the power of the Force, but the touch was different. Fuller. Deeper. His hand twisted, deactivating his light saber. His other hand moved, following the dictates of the Force, and buried its fingers deeply in the thick hair at the back of the Jedi's head. Pulling him forward, off his feet, Maul brought their bodies together with strength enough to rock both men, and devoured the Jedi's mouth.

He felt a minor disturbance in the Force and blocked it instinctively. The Jedi had tried for his light saber. Maul tossed his own weapon over his shoulder in the general direction of the Jedi's weapon. Both saber hilts lay quiescent, caught in a web of Light and Dark Force, immovable. Maul broke the kiss, and looked into those eyes again.

The fire was unbanked, searing him.

Feeling the compulsion of the Force within him, knowing it was reflected in the Jedi, he ripped the dusty cloth from the Jedi's body, baring soft skin and solid muscle. The Jedi's hands were moving as well, tearing at Maul's clothing, moving against his skin. Maul's eyes were clouding over; all he could see were the stripes of Light and Dark painting the Jedi's skin, and the fire burning in those blue eyes. Every cell in his body was tingling. The itch was back.

Moans were issuing from someone's throat, grasping, greedy sounds, but he wasn't interested enough to figure out from whom. He was too busy, too distracted, too intent on feeding the addiction that had been eating at him for months. The distraction could have been his downfall, because in a move he was not expecting, the Jedi twisted out of his grasp and ended up behind him. The breath caught in his throat; he'd faced death before, but not here, not now. Not with the Force moving through him so fiercely.

In the next instant, strong hands slid over his shoulders to his hips, and a greedy mouth settled on the side of his neck, biting, licking, sucking. He hissed in pleasure and pushed back against the weight pressing from his shoulders to his hips. Long legs slid between his, one callused hand closing over his erection, the other sliding between his buttocks, separating him, probing him. He bucked back harder, and his need was met with equal need, as solid flesh filled him, countered by the rhythmic stroking at his groin.

Around them, patterns shifted, formed and reformed, in the Force. Opal met onyx and bled together, retaining their distinction, but creating something more. Light and Dark writhed in a tangled mass, neither surrendering nor conquering. As Maul felt his climax approach he sensed the gathering of energy in the Jedi covering him, and reached out with the Force to touch that -- final --

A scream tore from his throat, or the Jedi's, or neither, or both. The web of the Force imploded around them, crushing them in a grip of need met, grasp exceeded. There was no air, no energy, nothing left but one another and the connection between them.

Then there was nothing at all.

Obi Wan Kenobi felt as if he'd fallen into a pit and rolled all the way down to the bottom. Over rocks. Sharp rocks. He'd slept like the dead until an insistent vibration in the Force centralized close to his outflung hand had finally roused him. Struggling up from unconsciousness, he stared at the being he held in his arms and had the fleeting wish that he'd never woken up.

Untangling himself very carefully from the demon, he inched away and reached for the remains of his clothes. Dressed in his leggings and boots, winding the tatters of his tunic around his torso, he stared at the Sith lord who had not killed him the previous night. He didn't want to understand why he'd ended up in carnal activity with his enemy instead of dying with dignity at his enemy's hand.

But he did.

Fingering his light saber, he stared at the still-sleeping form of the demon. Every ounce of training he'd ever had was screaming at him to kill the demon, that he was a threat to the galaxy, a minion of evil.

The Force was screaming just as loud for him to do no such thing.

This was a trial he had no idea how to face, and he was almost certain it wasn't one the Council, or even just Master Yoda, would have envisioned for him. Clenching his fingers around the hilt of his saber until his knuckles turned white, he fought with himself until the small transmitter now attached to the belt at his waist vibrated again.

He had to leave.

They had an emperor to kill, and a resistance to lead, and a galaxy to save. All he had to do was kill one Sith demon and be on his way.

Ducking out into the bright sunlight and making his way as fast as he could to the spaceport, he had a sinking feeling he had just failed his trials. A Jedi Knight surely would have been able to do what had to be done, and kill the Sith. That's what Jedi did.

Wasn't it?

Strapping himself into his resistance-provided ship, he couldn't help but wonder. He felt the Force ripple, knew the Sith was looking for him, and clamped down as much as possible with his shields. It didn't matter right now. He had a job to do. Later, when there was time, he would ask Master Yoda for guidance.

He certainly wasn't going to ask Qui Gon.

He'd lost that right on Dagobah.

Master Qui Gon felt his Padawan's arrival in the small utility junction outside the main guard post to the Throne Room, but he was too busy trying to shield the raiding party from the Emperor's Dark sight to risk sending out any welcome through their bond. He contented himself with a warm grip on Obi Wan's shoulder, and an equally warm smile. His Padawan looked to be at the end of his tether.

He didn't return the smile, either.

At the outset of the most dangerous mission of their lives, he didn't have time to find out why. It was becoming an all-too-familiar tale. Qui Gon made a mental note to take a long vacation when this was all through, with his apprentice, and cut through the morass of confusion that was fouling their communication.

Starting with the lovemaking.

Shaking off his small spike of arousal before the others could read it in the Force, he took a deep breath. Linking minds with Yoda, Windu and Obi Wan, he waited for the word from Master Yoda.

Now.

In a perfect pincer, they swept through the squad of biological and mechanical guards outside the inner sanctum. Jinn took point, Windu took the left flank and Kenobi the right. Yoda planted himself in the rear guard position and gathered the Force to him, manipulating it now like a fine edged blade, now like a mallet, scrambling communication, cutting off alarms, forcing open doors, sending bodies flying.

There were more guards than they'd expected.

Emperor Palpatine hadn't been taken quite as unaware as they'd hoped.

The third wave of defenders hit them as they exploded into the throne room. Over them and flowing through them, Dark Force spears of energy lacerated them, and they fought through an angry field of Force that flayed them alive. In the space of a heartbeat, the shards began to fragment before impact, as Yoda joined the battle, and Sith Master met Jedi Master in a collision of killing energy.

Each Jedi warrior faced challenge after challenge, body parts and droid pieces flying around them like miniature tornadoes as they whirled, sliced, tumbled, and chopped. Sheer force of numbers began to tell, as they fought to protect themselves and one another while pressing forward against the Emperor. A cut-off scream shuddered through the Jedi attackers as Windu slid in a pool of blood, and went down under the force of a dozen humanoid and droid guards. The loss rippled through the remaining Knight and Masters as Mace Windu was whipped into the Force, then strength redoubled as Yoda tapped into the newly-released energy in the Living Force around them.

From the throne, an inhuman shriek arose. The hair on the back of Qui Gon's neck prickled, as he felt once more the odd dark tendrils he'd felt in Obi Wan's Force. Only this time, the intensity was quadrupled. He swung around to see a feral-looking being framed in the doorway, a two-headed light saber in his hands. He was dressed in black, with red and black patterned skin, glaring red and yellow eyes, and sharp horns ringing his hairless skull.

His Padawan's demon. A Sith Lord.

"Kill them!"

He felt the words as much as heard them, and the being swung his light staff into attack position. Obi Wan peeled off the forward attack to protect their flank, and Qui Gon spared just a moment's glance at the two warriors before throwing himself into the attack on the Emperor. The last of the guard fell before him, but he could not reach past the Force wall Palpatine was throwing at him.

"KILL HIM!"

Reacting to the disbelief and fury in the emperor's voice, he turned his head to see what had provoked such rage. He didn't believe what he saw.

Obi Wan and the Sith were standing face to face, a handspan apart from one another. Their weapons were activated, but held down to their sides, and they simply stood there, staring at one another. Around them, the Living Force danced, in a display the likes of which he had never seen. In the back of his mind, he heard Yoda's voice whisper, The Chosen One was not. Two, not one. Balance, there shall be, in the Force. It is as it shall be. Now, Qui Gon!

Moving with the command sent to him by his own Master through the Force, Jinn turned and threw a steady stream of repulsive and containing Force at the throne, surrounding the Emperor and immobilizing him. Yoda flew past him, levitating over the field of battle and impacting directly over Palpatine's heart.

Now! It is as it shall be. YES! Yoda sent to him what he must do.

"No!" Qui Gon screamed even as his arms raised and, with the last of his strength, he swung his light saber through the two figures struggling on the throne. Their robes sizzled and flared, but there was no scent of burning flesh. Collapsing to his knees, completely drained, he stared at the puddle of black and brown material on the floor. In the back of his mind, resonating through the Force, he heard screams.

And laughter.

Obi Wan couldn't move his arm, couldn't shift his legs. His adversary and he were trapped in a bubble of the Force, a nearly opaque blend of Dark and Light that was paralyzing them both. He could do nothing but stare into the gleaming gold and crimson of his demon's eyes, and wait for the end.

It wasn't quite what he expected it to be.

A rush of energy expanded around them, and the image of two beings, one with Yoda's face, one with Palpatine's, wavered past them. Palpatine was shrieking dark anger, and denial. Yoda was laughing, bright acceptance and joy. Below the faces, there was but one body, and it was absorbed within the Force. Caught, made one, one with the Force, and one with one another.

His hand reached up and touched the red and black patterned cheek, then dropped to his side. The bright eyes didn't blink.

Waves of fatigue and worry were washing out from his Master, and he turned, finding himself able to move, now that the battle was over, now that he was no longer threatening his demon. A light touch along the edges of his hair between his shoulder blades stilled him in his tracks.

"You will go to him now. But you will return to me."

He swallowed with a dry throat. Not turning, he answered, the words shimmering in the Force between them. I know.

Stepping forward, he hurried to his Master's side, reaching him just in time to catch him as he lost consciousness. Seeking out through the Force, he could hear the conversation just outside the carnage of the throne room.

"There is no threat. You will allow the intruders to leave unharmed. The alert is cancelled." The alarm klaxons were immediately silenced.

Kneeling beside Qui Gon, stroking his face and waiting for him to rouse, Obi Wan could hear the soft whisper of Yoda's mind-voice. Balance in the Force. As it should be.

He's a Sith, Master Yoda.

More laughter.

I'm a Jedi.

The impression of sparkling eyes.

Balance. As it should be.

Epilog :

Qui Gon Jinn stared calmly around the great hall at the representatives of the newly created Galactic Senate. There was a great deal of work to be done, but with time, patience, and dedication, the Republic would grow strong again, and peace would once more blanket the galaxy.

If only it were so simple within his own heart.

He looked out the port of the huge space station, originally planned as a weapon of war, now used as a gathering place for peace. A streak of light flew from the lower corner, leaving the docking ports, and he felt the distance in the bond he shared with his former Padawan.

His apprentice was a Knight, now. Somewhere along the path, he'd forged an alliance that had altered the basic nature of the Living Force.

The joining gave him great misgivings. Looking deep within himself, he couldn’t help but wonder if those misgivings were protective or jealous. For now, Obi Wan had to follow the path the Force had laid out for him.

Qui Gon didn't have to like it. When things were settled, and the time was his to address his own needs, he would follow Obi Wan. There would be a reckoning. The chances he missed would be his again.

Eventually.

Around him, the Force rippled, then settled. Qui Gon Jinn gathered his robe against the chill in the air, and turned back to his work.

finis, story and series.

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