There
are risks as a Jedi, they are all aware of it, they stories of what
can go wrong get whispered in the halls along with classes on trauma
and how to avoid situations like kidnappings to the best of their
abilities.

But
even the best Jedi fail at times.

Which
is why Qui-Gon is desperately trying to find his padawan, his sub
before something terrible happens to him.

He’d
seen the way the prime minister had eyed Obi-Wan, the lusty glint in
the man’s eyes and the malicious intent in the Force once Obi-Wan
had politely but firmly rebuffed the man. In the confusion of the
failed assassination attempt on the Empress he had taken his chance
to grab something else he wanted.

Obi-Wan.

Which
left Qui-Gon running through the cavernous halls beneath the palace
with
his saber in hand for light,
letting the Force guide him through the maze of halls and caves to
find his Obi-Wan. Yet when he finds him…

“Ah!
Master Jedi! I was wondering if you would catch up.” The prime
minister sneered at him, pale purple eyes wide and crazed as he held
a blaster in one hand and had Obi-Wan’s braid wrapped around his
other as Obi-Wan knelt at
the man’s feet.

Obviously
being exposed as a traitor to his Empress had snapped what little
sanity the man had.

“What
have you done to my padawan Plummer?” Qui-Gon glared as hair raised
on the back of his arms at the silence of the cave, raising his saber
high for light. Obi-Wan would never meekly kneel at the feet of an
abductor and conspirator to a governmental coup.

“Padawan?”
Plummer
laughed, his voice echoing in the dusty caves. “Don’t you mean
your sub?”
The prime minister sneered, pulling on the ginger
braid that he had wrapped taunt around his fist not unlike how
Qui-Gon would occasionally.

Ice
jags through Qui-Gon’s stomach as Obi-Wan’s head is pulled back,
his eyes finally apparent, Obi-Wan’s eyes glazed and distant with a
heavy black
collar practically pulling him
down again. “What
have you done to him?” Qui-Gon whispered, his voice quiet.

The
first sign of doom if you knew the man.

Qui-Gon
Jinn was not a quiet man unless he was trying to be stealthy… or
when he was a rage.

But
the former prime minister did not know the Jedi master and only
laughed. “Do? All I had to do was wrap his braid around my fist and
force him to his knees, such a slut.” He sneered, the Force oozing
with lie.

Not
a whole lie no but something wasn’t right about what the other had
said.

Qui-Gon
growled and flickered his hand, a rock from the floor slamming into
Plummer’s head which had him dropping the braid. Wasting no more
time as Obi-Wan fell to the ground like a puppet cut of its strings,
Qui-Gon jumped forward and bisected the man with a deep snarl, the
cool sense of justice unleashing in his chest even as some part of him told him that vengence was not a Jedi’s way but Obi-Wan…

The
villain dealt with, Qui-Gon turned to his Obi-Wan and dropped to his
knees by him, desperately getting the bulky collar off him and
throwing it aside before checking over the other. “Obi-Wan,
sweetheart, can you hear me?” He spoke as he supported the other
against his chest, running his hands up and down the others body.

In
his padawan’s arm he found an injection mark and with a deep snarl,
Qui-Gon swept Obi-Wan into his arms and stood.

Obi-Wan’s
rapid descent into subspace was unnatural with someone unknown and he
was right that it wasn’t natural. Obi-Wan was drugged.

His
poor sub, his sweet imp.

It
takes hours for Obi-Wan to start surfacing, long after the medics
have checked him over and the Empress has retired for the night,
dismissing Qui-Gon in a callow manner as if his padawan is not laying
unresponsive much to the medics confusion though they confirm a drug
working away in his systems as Obi-Wan is kept under observation in
the medical rooms of the palace until Qui-Gon can retrieve him.

Settling
his love in his lap on the silken, ostentatious couch, Qui-Gon
carefully suited Obi-Wan until he’s settled in the V of the
master’s legs, his back to Qui-Gon’s chest and his head resting
on the man’s collarbone.

Ensuring
Obi-Wan’s comfortableness, Qui-Gon hooked his chin onto the
redhead’s shoulder and sinks himself into his meditation to help
Obi-Wan filter out the sedatives with unknown properties that’s
keeping him in subspace, trying to ignore the red marks of the heavy
collar.

They
had discussed collars, tentative but excited but now…

Qui-Gon
worried for what Obi-Wan would feel now.

He
wouldn’t blame him if he turned away from collars.

Hours
passed by until Obi-Wan finally let out a low, strained noise which
firmly yanked Qui-Gon out
of his meditation to find Obi-Wan squirming in panic. “Shh, I’m
here. I’m here my Obi-Wan.” He rumbled, turning the other until
they could see each other.

Staring
at each other for several moments, Obi-Wan let out a hitched breath
and buried himself in Qui-Gon’s shirt, tears darkening the beige
fabric. “Qui! I thought… he was going to…” Obi-Wan gasped
into his tunic, hands fisted in the fabric.

“I
know, I know my Obi,” Qui-Gon replied heavily, cupping the back of
the others head and stroking his back. “Its okay, I came for you.
I’ll always come for you. Sweetheart, my dear imp.” He cooed
promisingly as Obi-Wan shuddered against him.

Letting
out a sharp keening noise, Obi-Wan lifted red eyes from the chest.
“And he sent me into sub
space.
Like it was nothing!” He was shaking like a leaf.

“He
forced you into it. There’s a difference, I will never force you
into anything sweet Obi-Wan.” Qui-Gon peppered sweet, chaste kisses
all over the others face. “Never. You will always be safe with me,
it will always b-”

“Safe,
sane and consensual.” Obi-Wan hiccuped, his shaking subsiding a
tiny bit.

Smiling
softly, cupping the others wet cheeks, Qui-Gon nodded. “Always.”
He promised.