Entry tags:

fanfic, jedi__santa

FIC: Shattered Knight - Obi-Wan, Anakin - NC-17
TITLE: Shattered Knight
AUTHOR: agentjedi
GIFT FOR: obi_fan in the jedi__santa exchange
RATING: Adult
DATE WRITTEN: May, August-September 2005, September-November 2006
PAIRINGS: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker
TIMEFRAME: Prequel: during Clone Wars
SUMMARY: One night was all it took to shatter a lifetime between master and padawan.
WARNINGS: Same sex pairing. Graphic sex.
WORD COUNT: 4,526

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It shouldn't have happened.

All those countless hours of strategy and planning. All that time spent in the trenches. The reconnaissance. Surveillance. Intelligence. A month bereft in the cold, dark rain while enduring the interminable waiting for the Separatist faction to make their first wrong move. It all came down to being mindful of everything.

In the morning, he knew only one thing for certain.

It shouldn't have happened.

But it did.

The light had yet to break in the heavens, but already his troops were scrambling into position. He had gone over each plan carefully, detailing every move with Commander Cody and the ARC troopers. Each dark eye trained on him. Each tanned face focused on their pre-programmed objective. Each straight line of mouth pressed together tautly as he broke down the morning's campaign.

Except one.

This one's eyes were blue. This one's body slinked against crates of supplies and equipment, his living arm draped over his mechanical one hidden inside the black hermetically-sealed glove he wore that kept out the grime and moisture that would short-circuit it. This one's hair was long and unruly. This one's mouth was twisted in a bemused smirk that both exasperated and charmed him.

"...Master?" Anakin's voice sounded as if it came from far away, though the heat of his body and the power of the Force he welded emanated like the twin suns of Tatooine. "Something wrong?"

Obi-Wan stared at his padawan. Former padawan, the memory of Anakin's voice automatically corrected for him in his mind. The Jedi Master shook his head tightly, tousling his bangs from their previous place on his forehead. Absently, his long fingers pushed aside the stray hairs as his tourmaline eyes wandered away from Anakin's ridged and muscular-toned body.

Stop this, Kenobi commanded himself. Stop this now.

He was a 37-year-old man. Correction, a Jedi. Not just any Jedi, but a Master. Eight months ago, he was even granted a seat on the slowly-diminishing Council. An honour it was, yes...but Obi-Wan couldn't help but think the Council was becoming desperate. The number of Jedi Knights were dwindling. Each death in the Order diminished them.

Now Obi-Wan Kenobi was a General in the Grand Army of the Republic. He singled-handedly commanded 20,000 troops in the war against the Separatists.

Kenobi noted another rectification: he was not alone. His second-in-command was Anakin Skywalker.

His companion who hunkered down beside him in their shared command post.

His friend with whom he shared half a lifetime, teaching him the ways and mysteries of the Force.

A lifetime shattered in one night.

It had been four months now since the Council took Obi-Wan's advice and elevated Anakin to status of Jedi Knight. Gone was his padawan braid, the careful plaits Obi-Wan himself had woven. In his usual defiance, Anakin let his hair grow from its twelve-year regimen as a Jedi apprentice, yet decidedly kept his face clean-shaven. The moisture in the air made Anakin's hair curl into wild abandon. His tawny loops smelled of singed blaster fire and Nubian Sweetwater—Anakin's favourite drink which, since the war began, they had been drinking a lot more of.

They had been drinking it last night.

"I hate this war." Obi-Wan had muttered while leaning against the bar of the nearest settlement's social establishment. Not as sophisticated as the clubs of Coruscant nor as diverse as the cantinas along the space ports of Tatooine, the saloon had offered the two war heroes a dry booth and solitude.

So they drank to the war he hated so much. They drank to the clone soldiers who fought and died beside them every day. They drank to the Republic. Most importantly, they drank to forget why they were drinking in the first place.

"What's that you said?" Hours may have passed before Anakin joined in the conversation. Obi-Wan wasn't keeping count.

"I said, I hate this blasted war," Obi-Wan replied, his voice slurred as the alcohol took over his body.

Anakin made a noise to voice his own disapproval of the current state of events, then swallowed whole what remained of his drink.

With blurred vision, Obi-Wan watched as Anakin stood, walked over to the bar and exchanged words with the barkeep. He handed off some credits and came back to their table.

"Come on," Anakin advocated as he stooped to pick up their cloaks that had fallen on the floor.

Clumsily, Obi-Wan clamoured to his feet. He wasn't even aware how unsteady the floor was until Anakin caught his elbow and pulled him up. He tried to tell his partner something about managing on his own when Anakin said, "Here," and hooked his mechanical arm across his back. Leaning in to Anakin, Obi-Wan let his young friend steer him away.

Obi-Wan thought it was just as well that Anakin was leading, considering that he felt they were heading up somewhere instead of out of the cantina. When Anakin opened the door to a modest sleeping room, Obi-Wan realised they weren't leaving the establishment after all. For once, Obi-Wan wasn't about to argue.

Obi-Wan unceremoniously fell down on the sleep couch. Anakin somehow found the strength to shed his tunics and protective glove and flop his tired body over the rags that served as sheets, and for a while, they just laid there too numb to move.

Groggily, Obi-Wan sat up and rubbed his face, trying to dispel the effects of the alcohol with the Force. In the end, he gave up, realising he didn't really want to be all that awake anyway.

With slow deliberation, Obi-Wan striped away his belts and tunics and the multiple layers of clothing that made up the metaphysical armor of a Jedi. In his mind, Obi-Wan still recited the mantra of disrobing he had learned as a boy and had subsequently taught to his padawan.

I remove my outer layer, the skin that others see, and expose my identity to the knowledge of the Force.

I remove my middle layer, the identity I bestow upon myself, and expose my self to the wisdom of the Force.

I remove my inner layer, the self I keep hidden within, and expose my inner light to the mysteries of the Force.

Obi-Wan pitched everything onto the floor and sat staring at the edge of the sleep couch, contemplating his boots. They were caked with dried mud—mud he and Anakin had endured earlier that day to retrieve the bodies of a few fallen comrades. Although the faces of the troopers were all the same, the energies each man produced in the Force were unique.

Obi-Wan's brow pressed together, causing a crease that never seemed to go away since the war began. He had been witness to the place of their creation, yet the clones were dedicated men, each and every one. The squelch in the Force as each of them died was as significant and devastating as any other woman-born man.

There was never any sort of reverberating silence in the Force when they cut through the droid army's artillery lines.

"It's inhuman," Obi-Wan's voice intoned darkly.

He felt Anakin stir beside him on the bed. Without looking, Obi-Wan knew Anakin was sitting beside him, silently regarding his former master, but Obi-Wan didn't want to look up. He didn't want to gaze into those murky blue eyes filled increasingly with sadness and pain over the past year. How Obi-Wan wanted to go back to their days of innocence, for days of preparation with a vague sense of darkness looming ahead instead of all around them.

A brush of cold metal fingers traced lightly across Obi-Wan's back. He grunted, his shoulders curling away from his companion's touch. Instead of backing away, Anakin put his flesh hand on Obi-Wan and angled himself closer to so that the warmth of their bodies resonated with each other.

Obi-Wan sighed and closed his eyes. Somehow Anakin had picked up on Obi-Wan's silent wish. When he had been the master and Anakin the padawan, after a hard and rigorous workout, they had frequently taken turns massaging each other's knotted muscles. Since the war began, they hadn't taken time for such relaxing techniques. Of course, since the war began, they had more than repetitive arm movements and sloppy sabre form to damage their tissues.

"Really, Master," Anakin's throaty voice purred a playful retort as his hands skillfully massaged Obi-Wan's strained muscles with skilled practice. "You over-exert yourself."

Despite his own exhaustion, Obi-Wan's mouth tugged upward in a smirk, reminiscent of happier days. "And you, my old padawan, over-extend your reach."

Anakin chuckled as his hands moved down the curve of Obi-Wan's back and then to his left flank where he had noticed his friend favouring all day.

Obi-Wan's response was immediate. He moaned in a most tantalising way that could assuredly be mistaken for something else entirely. "Oh, that feels so good," he muttered, his tired body giving in to Anakin's generous caresses. It had been so long since he allowed anyone to touch him, especially like this. Obi-Wan gave himself in to it, moaning again in a way that would have made the night workers in the adjoining rooms blush.

Obi-Wan's head lolled from one side to the other as Anakin's expert hands rose up again to his shoulders and kneaded the muscles along his neck. His young friend began to work his way down Obi-Wan's sword arm, gently easing away his cramped, tightened muscles.

Before long, Anakin had manoeuvred himself in front of Obi-Wan, nearly carrying his former master's weight as the older man leaned in to Anakin's caresses. Obi-Wan couldn't remember a time when being touched felt so good. For so long he had denied himself such simple pleasures. Savouring a moment of respite with the man who had become his closest companion was a gift of the Force.

Resting his head on Anakin's warm shoulder, Obi-Wan allowed himself to completely relax. Once when both men were younger, his arms had encircled Anakin's scrawny form, guiding the boy through the complicated mysteries of the Force into adulthood. Tonight the man's arms would enwrap Obi-Wan with the simple comfort of human companionship.

Obi-Wan felt safe there, being held by Anakin. Over the past year on the battlefields of various planets, Obi-Wan's trust in Anakin had grown to unfathomable depths.

Lifting Obi-Wan, Anakin eased his friend's body to lay completely on the sleep couch. As Obi-Wan's head fell to the pillow, he reopened his heavy-laden eyes to see Anakin's face precariously close to his own.

Staring into Anakin's deep blue depths, Obi-Wan realised the strange and perilous position they were in. Despite the fact that Anakin was straddling Obi-Wan, despite the fact Anakin's face was mere centimetres from his own, despite the fact that Anakin's warm breath hit Obi-Wan's cheek and neck...and seemed to be growing deeper and more shallow...neither Anakin nor Obi-Wan pulled away.

Then in an instant, Anakin's face changed, setting his jaw as Obi-Wan had witnessed hundreds of times over the past twelve years of their relationship, with a stubborn determination that his mentor could never shake loose. With his decision made, Anakin's hands slid from Obi-Wan's back, around his side, and found their way to Obi-Wan's pelvis.

He realised then what Anakin was doing, and Obi-Wan's breathing became far more audible than it had the previous day in battle. Neither man looked away from the other, but instead looked determinedly into the other's eyes, as if demanding a daunting dare.

Obi-Wan felt Anakin's hands—both his flesh and his mechanical one—unfastening his trousers. He knew he should say something. He felt like calling out, screaming Anakin's name on the top of his lungs, but yet....

...All Obi-Wan could do was pant and stare at his former apprentice and feel the young man's hands on his body.

Obi-Wan's mind was a-whirl, trying to make sense of what was happening to him. He knew his former padawan's proclivities without a doubt. Anakin had always taken an interest in women—most notably in the woman who was once Queen of Naboo and now Senator Padmé Amidala. He knew something lay between them, something very deep. Whenever Anakin found himself in her vicinity, he became a gibbering idiot. Obi-Wan thought it was adorably cute the way Anakin's face would flush just under his tanned skin, the way his eyes would flash with some kind of excitement and hope.

Obi-Wan could no longer remember the days when he once felt the same for the man he had secretly loved.

Despite the fact that Anakin was very obvious about his infatuation for Padmé, Obi-Wan had never been very open about his own tendances. There had been only one man to whom Obi-Wan had given his heart. There was only one to whom he pledged his soul. And that man was dead. He had grown cold in Obi-Wan's arms, never knowing the depths of his love for the other.

Obi-Wan Kenobi had loved only one man in his life—his former master, Qui-Gon Jinn.

With his dying breath, Qui-Gon bequeathed the well-being of Anakin to Obi-Wan. As a means to dedicating his life to the only man he ever truly loved, Obi-Wan had taken the boy as his padawan. He had grown to love Anakin like a brother as the strife of their relationship seemed to mold them together like the twisted strands of a padawan braid.

But now...now....

...Right now, Anakin Skywalker was cupping his brother's genitals while breathing heavily along his bare, exposed skin.

And Obi-Wan was letting him.

Both men stared deeply into each other's eyes, unable to let go, unwilling to look away. Anakin's eyes were dark with passion, his lids half-closed in that come-hither look he would frequently use on the opposite sex in order to seduce them. So many times Obi-Wan would reprimand the boy for being so callous in his disregard for other's feelings.

For the first time, Obi-Wan realised he disliked Anakin using his wiles so naturally, so carelessly, because none of them had been for him. Anakin had never tried to seduce him, had never looked upon Obi-Wan with passion and reckless abandon.

Until now.

So much about Anakin reminded Obi-Wan of his former master—the improvident way he would disregard the Council, the spontaneity he would bring to every situation—that slowly Obi-Wan came to love another man in his life, albeit he thought in a whole different way than he had once loved Qui-Gon.

Anakin's warm flesh hand pushed itself downward, allowing his fingers to brush along the tightly pressed line of Obi-Wan's inner thighs. A hitched breath sucked in through Obi-Wan's lips as he continued to be mesmerised by Anakin's determined fixed stare.

Could Qui-Gon have felt like this for him? Had he been torn between his duty as Obi-Wan's teacher and the deeper love between the two men? Or had Obi-Wan only deluded himself all those years under his master's knowing gaze?

Obi-Wan couldn't answer his own pondering. His voice betrayed him as his mouth opened, calling out a guttural animalistic cry as his hips bucked against the heat of the man straddling him, stroking him, taking him far away from the cool, collected Jedi Master he was supposed to have been.

Tonight, Kenobi was a man. He was a man in desperate need. A need that would be sated by his former student who was now laying the full force of his body down upon Obi-Wan, pressing their bodies together with his own desperate passions.

"Oh...Anakin." Obi-Wan's voice betrayed him again, letting the human side of him override everything he had been taught as a Jedi. His own hands clawed at Anakin's trousers, seeking wantonly to free the other man's erection, desiring to touch flesh upon flesh.

Their mouths clashed and fought, duelling like two padawans in a training salle. For a moment, Obi-Wan's hands forgot their objective. Eyes closed, Obi-Wan felt both flesh and metal hands dig at his scalp as the sound of passionate breathing filled the air.

No, it shouldn't have happened.

But it was happening. Right now.

Obi-Wan's leg kicked out from under Anakin and wrapped itself around his opponent. His arms gripped the younger man and with sheer will, flipped them both over with a resounding animalistic growl. Now Obi-Wan was on top, his grey-laced amber bangs tussled carelessly over his eyes. Out of habit, he sought to comb it back, but he found his arms pinned by his lover's embrace. Anakin had folded his arms around his former master's so that when Obi-Wan finally landed on top of him, his arms would be pinned beneath Anakin's body. Now, try as he might, Obi-Wan's own weight kept him pinned against the young lover.

"What are you going to do to me," Anakin's voice brushed a velvety breath against Obi-Wan's whispery bangs, his tenor husky with passion. "...Master?" The word was ushered as a taunt, a goad, a dare.

Obi-Wan stared down at the handsome face below him, marred only by the lingering scar left by Asajj Ventress. That his friend had taken the scar for him only made it more beautiful. Obi-Wan's brows furrowed as he fought between his growing passion and his reason. He should stop this right now. He had been this man's teacher, his mentor, his role model. What would he be if he allowed himself to give in to desperate passion and frustration?

What would happen to a man's soul if he never acknowledged his love for another?

This was a question Obi-Wan knew the answer to, all too well.

He had spent so many nights wondering what could have been. In the end, the reality he faced was the emptiness Qui-Gon's death. Anakin filled the void and grew beyond it, giving Obi-Wan a second chance. And hadn't Qui-Gon told him repeatedly to live in the moment, in the here and now?

Right here, right now, there was a young, handsome man deeply aroused and yearning for his touch.

Obi-Wan wasn't about to disappoint him.

Anakin whimpered a sigh as Obi-Wan licked and nibbled at his throat. The taste of sweat and smell of alcohol clung to Anakin like a toxic aphrodisiac.

Anakin's hands began to explore Obi-Wan's back again, in effect freeing the older Jedi. But Obi-Wan didn't move away. Instead, he continued to explore the protrusion of Anakin's larynx and the delectable curve of his clavicle. Anakin's mounting moans made Obi-Wan more bold in his oral exploration of his body. Obi-Wan managed to slide down Anakin's torso, licking and tasting the saltiness of sweat from his friend's smooth skin. Obi-Wan found the young man's nipples and nibbled at them until they became erect and hardened under his moist mouth.

As Anakin's breathing became even more erratic, it was obvious the young man wanted something in particular from this exchange—and he was certain he wanted it right now. Squirming beneath Obi-Wan, Anakin tried to take one of his friend's hands and guide it between them.

"Master...," Anakin purred, bucking against Obi-Wan's torso. Anakin managed to unbuckle his own trousers. He struggled to slide them off his hips, but the weight of Obi-Wan prevented him from getting farther than his pelvic bone.

Obi-Wan clasped Anakin's wrists and pushed them back in supplication over his head. Anakin exhaled sharply and gazed deeply at the older man hovering over him. Slowly, Anakin's lips curled, and a self-gratifying smile spread over his face.

Obi-Wan ever so slowly slid the length of Anakin's torso and pulled down the rough material to expose his member to the cool night air. The young knight moaned as he twisted his arms above his head although there was nothing holding them there.

Obi-Wan looked down to see his friend's organ like a purpled staff between his legs. Obi-Wan took the time to fully appreciate Anakin's assets. Although he had seen his friend in various states of undress throughout the years, this was the first time he had seen Anakin fully erect as a grown man. It sent a shiver down Obi-Wan to note that what Anakin may have lacked in girth, it was more than made up for by length.

What Obi-Wan wanted, however, was to feel the strength of that shaft in his hand, to share the heat of it, taste and devour it eagerly like a man dying of thirst.

Obi-Wan's tongue reached out tentatively, its moist tip seeking its first taste of forbidden fruit. Anakin bucked against him, rasping a guttural sound from the back of his throat as Obi-Wan licked down toward Anakin's scrotum. Then with one long lingering stroke, Obi-Wan made his way back to the head where a drop of saltiness awaited him.

Greatly aroused by this tantalising taste, Obi-Wan swiped his tongue cross-ways, causing his tongue to graze against the head. Anakin whimpered and threw his arm across his face.

Obi-Wan dove in again, this time engulfing his whole mouth over the delectable fruit. He devoured the saltiness of Anakin's precome, exploring the veins and valleys of his surface. Deep, luscious mewling rose from Anakin's throat.

Obi-Wan was no stranger to sexual intercourse with another man. Although he had never been with Qui-Gon, there had been plenty of others when desire had been too much. He knew how to drive desire and how to hold back. He knew how to satisfy and how to antagonise. As he began to play his game, Obi-Wan suddenly felt himself lifted a few centimetres into the air by the Force. He was pulled forward and fell down hard over Anakin's sweat-drenched body.

Suddenly Obi-Wan found himself the recipient of Anakin's infamous feral glare. Anakin's eyes were wild and crazed, full of lust and desire of such intensity that Obi-Wan had never seen before. Anakin pressed up against Obi-Wan's belly, causing his hardened cock to rub against Obi-Wan's own.

"Pound me," Anakin demanded gruffly in a hoarse voice as he hooked a leg over Obi-Wan's hip. "Impale me with your sword, My Master!"

Completely taken by his passion, Anakin closed his eyes and slid his body up until Obi-Wan's stiffened member eased into the crook of Anakin's open thighs. Hooking his other leg around Obi-Wan, he lifted himself up just enough to press his underside against the older man's burgeoning member. He began to gyrate under Obi-Wan, grunting and groaning with his efforts to encourage the older man to penetrate him.

"Pound me, Master," he whispered so softly that Kenobi nearly had to use the Force to hear him. "Drive your flesh into me. Take me—"

Distraught by what was transpiring, Obi-Wan put his hands on Anakin's shoulders, thinking to push himself off the younger man. He had to stop this from going any further, yet when Anakin re-opened his eyes a moment later, Obi-Wan saw a completely different man there. Instead of a man crazed with lust or a determined fighter on a battlefield, Anakin's face had transformed into the vulnerable boy Obi-Wan had watched grow and mature.

Despite Anakin's demanding exterior, it was obvious to Obi-Wan that the boy he raised still hid underneath. Obi-Wan realised his friend needed this as much as he did; he needed to be wanted, to be held, to feel human again. Anakin needed him. He needed Obi-Wan's approval, he needed Obi-Wan's friendship, he needed Obi-Wan's love.

Obi-Wan's hands moved from Anakin's shoulders and trailed along his face to show compassion and support...and most of all, his love.

Obi-Wan felt Anakin's flesh hand take hold of his erection and guide it where he wanted it inside him. Gently, Obi-Wan pushed forward. Although Anakin gasped, Obi-Wan knew through a tremor in the Force that his new lover had, in fact, been taken this way before. Echoes of the Force emanating off Anakin were not a sharp pain, but a gentle, welcoming pain bordering on pleasure.

Obi-Wan watched with fascination as Anakin struggled to keep his eyes open to watch his lover on top of him. Small whimpers escaped Anakin's open mouth as he pushed his cheek against Obi-Wan's open palm. The welcoming warmth of Anakin engulfed Obi-Wan as he slowly thrust into Anakin's anus. The doubt there had been earlier about this union had completely diminished, and Obi-Wan was filled with a strange joy.

He loved Anakin.

He loved Anakin, and his body expressed it through his desire.

He loved Anakin, and his soul sang from within for the realisation of it.

By the twisting expression on Anakin's face, he loved Obi-Wan, too.

Entwined in each other's arms and legs, without words, they had broken the Code.

Together.

Then with a final shuddering breath, Obi-Wan's body had its release. His head fell limply on Anakin's bare chest. For an elongated moment, the two men shined brightly in the Force as waves of indistinct emotion lapped over them. Eventually, they disentangled themselves and without a word fell asleep side by side.

"...Master?" Anakin's voice echoed again, bringing Obi-Wan back to the present.

Obi-Wan looked up and realised that the ARC troopers had left the morning's meeting, leaving him and Anakin alone in the strategic centre.

For a moment, Obi-Wan stared at his friend...his companion...his lover. He was a knot of emotions when he looked at Anakin. Somehow the younger man remained the same as he had always been when they awoke and trudged back to the camp. He even joked on their way that he didn't like First Days, knowing that Obi-Wan knew Anakin meant more than just the day of the week.

Staring back at Obi-Wan, Anakin twisted his mouth in a playful curl. "Don't tell me...."

Obi-Wan couldn't help it. He struggled to keep the smirk from growing on his own face. "You know I was just about to say—"

"I have a bad feeling about this!" the two chorused together with a gentle laugh.

Clasping his gloved hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder, Anakin stated, "General Grievous will be a pile of spare parts by the end of this campaign, Master. I know it. I can feel it."

Heading out, Obi-Wan teased, "This wouldn't be the same premonition that told you the cavern on Notauri was perfectly solid ground?"

Anakin smiled and laughed.

Suddenly it seemed everything was the same, but better. Life had returned, dispelling the deadening silence that had threatened to stifle them just the day before. Obi-Wan could feel Anakin's energy bristling again beneath the surface of his skin. He sensed a brush of joy and hope that hadn't been there for quite some time, and it made Obi-Wan's heart leap to feel it again.

The two men fell in sync with one another and paused for a moment before heading off in opposite directions on the battlefield. Their gaze held each other with a knowing bond that had forged itself over the decade they had grown together and culminated in the passionate embrace of the previous night. Now it seemed nothing could tear them apart, not death nor war.

No, it shouldn't have happened.

But Obi-Wan was glad it did.

About the Story

Although this was a submission for jedi__santa 2006, I actually started writing it in May of 2005. The Anakin/Obi-Wan contingency was strong, and I had to admit their chemistry was way more appealing than the so-called "love story" between Anakin and Padmé. Still, the movies clearly had Anakin in love with Padmé. So how do you put these two men together sexually and keep them in character?

It was obvious that Anakin's character would have no problem loving more than one person. After all, he was a venerated Jedi Knight, hero of the Clone Wars, yet he still wanted more. Boundaries were no barrier for him. Obi-Wan, on the other hand, was a trickier character. No matter how much he may have loved Anakin, he was first and foremost Anakin's mentor and a Jedi. Unlike Anakin, Obi-Wan has good boundaries. Under normal circumstances, I don't think Obi-Wan would have allowed anything to develop sexually between himself and Anakin (or him and Qui-Gon, really). The war provided extraordinary circumstances for both of them. Unable to be with the woman he loved, Anakin wouldn't let Obi-Wan say no, and desperate to feel human again, Obi-Wan wouldn't want to stop Anakin.

I shelved the story because I wasn't ready to write a full-on sex scene (with men; I'd done a het pairing for another fandom), but when I was assigned obi_fan for the jedi__santa challenge this past Christmas, I saw that she wanted two things: Obi-Wan and first time. I remembered this scenario and decided to rewrite it.

This is the most-often visted story from my LiveJournal site. Enjoy!