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Archive: M-A and http://www.wyomingnot.com/rita/rita.html

Category: Angst

Rated: PG-13 to R, for one not-very-explicit sex scene

Pairing: Obi-Wan/Bail

Summary: Ten years after beginning his exile on Tatooine, Obi-Wan visits Bail and Leia on Alderaan and deals with his inner demons.

Warnings: 180 proof, VSOP grade angst. Have a bottle of Pepto handy, because this one will give you bleeding ulcers.

Newbie alert: I've never posted to a list before, so I hope I'm doing it right.

Explanations: "Ben." Well, we all have our explanations, don't we? Mine comes from an early draft of Star Wars in which the Jedi were called the "Jedi Bendu." I supplied its meaning as an archaic term of respect for the Jedi, meaning "honored" or "loved."

A thranta is a gigantic flying beastie native to Alderaan. I found it in the Star Wars Encyclopedia. I'm using it for the GFFA equivalent of a pre-teen girl's fixation on horses.

Feedback: Oh, heavens, yes!

S'pose I'd better add a SPOILER ALERT: This story does refer to events of Ep 3, specifically the final show down between Obi-Wan and Anakin, however I don't consider them to be true spoilers, since these rumors have been floating around since ANH first came out. Any SW fan worth her salt should already know that stuff, anyway, "spoiler free" or not. But I thought I probably should warn you, anyway.

Story order:
Perhaps
Maybe
Falling
Back for Seconds - Obi-Wan and Bail
Bailing Bail
Padawan Games
Greener Pastures
Forgiven
Reality Check
Better Than Destiny
A Cross-Cultural Affair
Deconstruction
Reconstruction
Rewoven
Night Visitor
Father Figure
A Model Padawan
Not All Dreams Are Visions
You Don't Bring Me Flowers
Dangerous Fame
Labyrinth
Private Lessons (off-site link)
Owner's Mark
Epicenter
Duty
Penumbra
Nightfall
Batter My Heart <--You are here

For I, except you enthrall me, never shall be free,
Nor ever chaste, except you ravish me.
      --John Donne

Day One

He stood silently at a corner of the busy intersection, vehicles whizzing by on the street, people bustling along the walkways, all rushing to get home after a long day of work. He had not been in the presence of so many people in ten years, and in ten years he had never felt so alone.

It was overwhelming: the frenetic activity, the cacophony of noise, the jostling crowds, the glaring technology. For a moment he felt anxiety rise within him. Closing his eyes he let it well up until it overflowed and drained gently out of him, leaving him once more with a feeling, if not of peace, at least of calm, and a little chagrin. This was ridiculous. He, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi Knight and General, had been raised on a city planet. Could a mere ten years in exile on a barren world leave him so ill-equipped to return to civilization? He refused to let this city conquer him. He could handle this.

All the same, he decided to walk to his destination rather than take the public transport.

He set out down the street at the same even pace he used to wander the dunes and canyons around his home, his footsteps brisk but not hasty, unlike the beings shouldering past each other around him. No one noticed him, despite the fact that in his worn desert robes he stood out in the fashionable Alderaani crowd like a mud-colored Gungan in the colorful city of Theed. Idly he ran his hand over his beard, once more surprised at the lack of grit. He had forgotten what it was like not to have sand constantly in his eyes, ears, nostrils, and hair. His clothes, while old, were cleaner than they had been in years. Without the ever-present raspy sand, the rough fabric felt like silk on his skin. /I should take a shower more often,/ he smiled to himself. But in truth there was no place on Tatooine where he could afford one. What a sensual delight it had been to indulge in a shower in his tiny rented room, to let the water freely flow over him, streaming through his hair, soaking into his skin, washing off layers of grime that he had begun to think of as part of his body. He had spent half an hour in that shower, and despite Alderaan's abundance of water, he couldn't help but feel a little guilty about the extravagance. Nevertheless, he felt ten years younger and at least ten kilos lighter.

Followed it up with a haircut and trim for his beard, but he didn't even consider buying new clothes. What would be the point? He wouldn't wear them on Tatooine, so he saw no need to waste his budget on such wanton luxury. It had taken him three years to save up the money for this trip, and he still wasn't sure if it had been a good idea. He didn't really know why he was here. To check in on the state of the galaxy? To learn what the Emperor was up to? To follow up on the child's progress? To see Bail? Even all these reasons together could not justify the risk he was taking. He had a responsibility to remain in hiding, to protect the boy, to safeguard if not his own life, then the knowledge he carried as one of the last of the Jedi. He could not risk capture. So he had kept telling himself for the past three years, but in the end he could not deny the urge to get off world, to visit the one person in the entire galaxy whom he could trust not to betray him, the only person in the galaxy who might actually be pleased to see him.

Darkness had begun to fall as Obi-Wan turned onto the street of his destination. The elegant white houses glowed in the fading light. How he had missed Alderaan! Obi-Wan didn't have much of a sense for aesthetics, but even he had always admired Alderaan's sense of beauty and balance.

Ahead of him rose the Viceroy's mansion, graceful and ample, but not too large, fronting one of Alderaan's many rivers. Typical. Bail loved water. Obi-Wan could have taken a river taxi, but he would certainly not have been able to enter the house that way. He wasn't sure if he could just walk up and get in, either. He hoped he wouldn't have to manipulate his way in. In his younger days Bail had inclined to an open door policy regarding walk-in visitors, part of his desire to be a "senator of the people." But times had changed, and clearly Bail had as well, as evidenced by the presence of two guards stationed at the gates that enclosed the estate.

Obi-Wan suppressed a brief shiver of dread, wondering just how much Bail had changed in the last decade. Perhaps he wouldn't be as pleased to see Obi-Wan as he hoped. But it was a little late to turn back now. Straightening his shoulders in an attempt to look like something more imposing than a homeless beggar, Obi-Wan approached the guards. They said nothing, appearing to take no notice of him, but he knew they were watching him. Tucking his hands into his sleeves, Obi-Wan bowed to them and announced, "I wish to see the Viceroy."

"Is he expecting you?" one of the guards asked, curt but polite.

"No," Obi-Wan admitted. "But he will want to see me. I am an old friend of his."

The guards exchanged glances, and Obi-Wan could sense them sizing him up. The guard asked, "Do you have the code?"

So unusual visitors were not that unexpected. This was encouraging, except that Obi-Wan had no idea what the code might be. Nor was he comfortable with the idea of giving the guards his name. He trusted Bail, but he did not trust anyone else, not even the people who worked for him. "No," Obi-Wan confessed, and he could feel their minds closing to him. "But...have you a piece of paper?"

With another glance at his partner, the guard pulled a small notepad out of his pocket and handed it to Obi-Wan. He drew a symbol on one of the sheets, folded it and handed it back to the guard. "If you would give this to him?" Bail was the only person in the galaxy who would recognize it.

The guard took the paper, then commed the house. Before long two more guards arrived and escorted Obi-Wan onto the grounds. One of them remained with him in the foyer while the other left to deliver the note. They waited in silence as the minutes dragged by. The foyer was appointed with several chairs, but Obi-Wan was not inclined to sit, nor was he inclined to make conversation with the guard. He stood, silent and impassive, ignoring the curious stares of the guard, ignoring his own anxiety about seeing Bail again, stilling his thoughts with a ruthless efficiency he had learned from his years in the desert.

In the study of the Viceroy's mansion, ten-year-old Leia Organa sighed and rubbed her eyes in boredom. Her notebook was filled with a number of interesting sketches of animals, most notably thrantas, but precious little in the way of her history report. Kicking idly at the legs of her chair, she let her gaze wander over to her father sitting at his desk, slouched in front of the computer. He seemed to be having as much trouble with his homework as she was with hers. She glanced once more at her sketches in a feeble attempt to focus, before giving up and crossing the room to lean on her father's arm.

"Can I help you write your speech, Bobo?" she asked, gazing up at him with the most effective imploring look in her repertoire.

But Bail knew better than to fall prey to her manipulation. His eyes on the screen, he asked, "Have you finished your report already?"

Catching her lower lip between her teeth, she shot a guilty glance back at her desk. "Almost."

Bail clucked his tongue. "Almost is not good enough, Leelee."

"It's Imperial History, I don't want to write it!" Leia protested petulantly. "It's all lies anyway. Why don't you write my report, and I'll write your speech?"

"What, do you think I'm a better liar than you?" he inquired, amused.

"N-no," Leia hesitated, "but I like your version of Imperial history better."

He tugged on her long braid. "I'm sure you do, but I doubt my version of Imperial history will earn you a passing grade."

Leia growled low in her throat, her eyebrows knit together in irritation - warning signs that she was about to launch into full whining mode. /Not tonight,/ Bail silently begged. He really was not up to it. Especially since he was the one who had urged that cursed Imperial history curriculum on the schools in the first place. It was all part of that delicate balancing act between maintaining more or less good standing with the Imperial government while simultaneously developing a fledgling movement to oppose it. As much as he enjoyed politics, sometimes it got to be too much for him, especially when his daughter decided to start a rebellion of her own.

To make matters worse, his chief of security chose that moment to knock and enter the study. Suppressing the urge to complain, *Now what?* Bail managed a more polite, if strained, "Yes?"

"I'm sorry to disturb you, Your Highness, but there's someone in the foyer wanting to see you. He claims to be an old friend of yours."

"Don't they all," Bail quipped. "Who is it?"

"He gave no name or code, only this." The guard held out a folded piece of paper.

Bail took it and opened it, then froze, his heart skipping a beat. The symbol, a letter B intersected with an O: his initials. It was a tattoo. It couldn't possibly be....

Concerned by her father's obvious distress, Leia glanced at the enigmatic symbol, then up into Bail's stricken face. "Bobo?"

He didn't hear her. Obi-Wan? Here? It wasn't possible. Everyone said he was dead. Though Bail steadfastly denied it aloud, secretly he had begun to believe it was true. Could this be a trap? He reached for the keyboard, typing in a code that would give him a view from the security camera in the foyer.

And *he* appeared on screen. Obi-Wan Kenobi. The image was too poor to show the details of his face, but Bail would have recognized him anywhere. "Force help me," he whispered brokenly.

His tone worried Leia. "Papa?" she asked with a frown.

"Your Highness?" the guard echoed. "Is he friend or foe?"

Bail reached out to touch the beloved image on the screen. "Most definitely a friend," he answered, his voice husky with emotion.

"Shall I escort him in, then?"

"No, I'll meet him myself," he replied, pushing back his chair and standing up. He glanced at his daughter. "Leia, finish your homework. I mean it."

Wordlessly Leia nodded as Bail left the study, followed by the guard.

Now that his heart had resumed beating, it pounded furiously in his ears as he hastened through the corridors, his thoughts racing as fast as his feet. Obi-Wan, here, now. Was something wrong? Had he learned something important? Was he ready to make a move against the Emperor?

He reached the door to the foyer, pausing to rest his forehead against the rough, dark wood while he collected himself. He wasn't really ready to deal with whatever disaster had brought Obi-Wan to his doorstep, but he didn't have much of a choice. Taking a steadying breath, he opened the door and went to meet his guest.

Obi-Wan turned slightly at his entrance, and Bail caught his breath at the sight of him, his golden hair reflecting the lamplight, his eyes dark and depthless. Even standing across the room from him, Bail could see the deep lines etching the once smooth features, the hollow in his cheeks. He had lost weight, his skin was darker than Bail had ever seen it, and his robes were threadbare. Even in their prime, the Jedi were no strangers to hardship and suffering, but the figure before him did not carry it with the strength and confidence he had once known. With a shock, Bail realized he looked old. /And why not?/ he asked himself. They were both pushing fifty. But in his dreams, Obi-Wan always appeared to him as the young Padawan he had fallen in love with all those years ago, in a different lifetime. The memory of that earnest young man drew a slow smile to his lips.

Bail wasn't aware when the two guards discreetly slipped away. He wasn't aware that he had crossed the room. He only realized he was holding Obi-Wan when the Jedi's beard rasped against his neck. He pulled back then to look into Obi-Wan's eyes, his arms wrapped tightly around him. "Still with the beard, eh?" he teased, unable to say all the things that pressed so heavily against his heart. Obi- Wan only smiled, but his expression grew tender. Bail ran a lock of hair between his fingers. "And is this gray I detect?"

"Yours is as black as ever, I see," Obi-Wan returned, his voice as rich and cultured as Bail remembered. At least some things hadn't changed.

"Yes, but that's only because I dye it. You know how vain I am."

Again that gentle smile, the laughing eyes. "You look good for an old man."

Bail tenderly brushed the hair off Obi-Wan's forehead. "And you look beautiful." He ached to kiss him, but he knew if he did he would start to weep, and he wasn't ready to face all the emotion Obi-Wan's sudden appearance had stirred in him. He needed time to adjust, to absorb the fact that Obi-Wan was not dead, that he was really here.

He stepped back out of Obi-Wan's embrace, his hand sliding down to grip the Jedi's. "Well, come on in, then," he invited softly. "There's someone I am eager for you to meet."

Obi-Wan allowed himself to be led into the house, but that last comment filled him with dread. He knew Bail had never married, but that didn't mean he hadn't found someone else to love. He could not imagine that Bail had remained celibate all these years, nor did he expect him to. It was hardly in the man's nature. All the same, he sincerely hoped it was the child Bail was referring to. Obi-Wan didn't want to think about who else he might meet in Bail's home.

They passed through endless corridors, and Obi-Wan realized that his own little hovel on Tatooine could probably fit in the entrance foyer. "This is an enormous house," he observed.

Bail flashed him a quirky grin. "Well, I *am* Viceroy and First Chair of Alderaan, now. I have to entertain people and such. No tiny senator's apartment for me any more."

"Your apartments were never that tiny."

"Neither were they this big. I have an entire staff just to run this place."

"Including security guards," Obi-Wan noted.

Bail pressed his lips together. "Yes, well, the galaxy is not the same place it once was."

"Not even Alderaan?"

Stopping in front of a door, Bail turned to face him, his expression solemn, almost mournful. "Not even Alderaan." He paused to let the moment pass through him, then opened the door and ushered Obi-Wan into the room.

Bookshelves lined one wall, and a cluster of large, comfortable chairs were gathered in a corner. Two desks, one large and one small, were pushed against another wall. At the smaller one sat a young girl, her head bowed over a notebook, one end of a long braid in her mouth. She looked up when they entered, and her eyes sent a jolt of shock through Obi-Wan. /She looks just like Padme!/ he thought, hoping his surprise didn't show in his expression.

Beside him Bail was saying, "Leia, I want you to meet a very dear friend of mine. This is Obi-Wan Kenobi."

The girl's eyes widened in surprise. Clearly she recognized his name. She slid off her chair and approached her father, reaching for his right hand to draw the cuff of his sleeve back, revealing the tattoo on his wrist, "ob1." She glanced an inquiry up at her father, and he smiled warmly in reply. Her face lit up in a wide grin, then she composed herself and bowed deeply before Obi-Wan. "It is a pleasure to meet you, General Kenobi."

Her reaction startled him. With a prince to raise her, Obi-Wan should not be surprised that she would act like a miniature Queen Amidala. Beside him, Bail beamed proudly. "Obi-Wan, meet Leia Organa."

Suppressing a grin, the Jedi returned the child's formal bow, then knelt on one knee to face her at eye level. "You may not be aware of it, but you and I have met before."

Intrigued, her forehead wrinkled prettily. "We have? When?"

"You were just a baby. I'm happy to see you've grown into quite a young woman."

Surely an Organa would be accustomed to flattery, but all the same Leia blushed shyly and grinned.

Bail offered, "We've already had dinner, but there are plenty of leftovers in the kitchen. Would you like something to eat?"

"No, thank you, I'm not hungry."

With a short laugh, Bail instructed, "You'll notice, Leia, that he did not say, 'I've already eaten.' He said, 'I'm not hungry,' which is Jedi-speak for, 'I only need to eat twice a week.'" He favored Obi-Wan with a lofty glance. "But I don't believe in all that ascetic nonsense, so as long as you're under my roof, you'll eat whether you want to or not. Leia, while I fetch him some dinner, will you play host to our guest?"

"Of course, Father."

She moved toward a liquor cabinet near the chairs, and Bail instructed, "The special red, dearest." He turned a saucy gaze on Obi-Wan. "It so happens I have your favorite on hand."

Obi-Wan was stunned. How many times had Bail teased him with that line? Deeply moved that he was still remembered in this household, Obi-Wan quietly offered his ritual reply, "You always do."

"And I always will," Bail assured him, "so I'll be ready the next time you stop by." With a wink, he left the room.

Obi-Wan settled into one of the chairs, watching as Leia expertly poured out three glasses, two for Bail and himself, and one smaller one which she mixed with water. Obi-Wan knew that the Alderaani started their children on wine at a young age, and on Tatooine children usually drank beer. Water, after all, was a luxury drink. But it was still an unusual sight for him to see a ten-year-old sipping wine as if it were normal. It reminded him of how his padawan had shocked the Temple with his requests for beer. He shook himself sharply. He didn't want to remember those times.

Leia noticed the gesture and, misinterpreting it as an attempt to stay awake, observed, "You must be tired from your journey."

"Uh-yes, I suppose I am, a little," Stars above! Now she was making polite conversation with him. Obi-Wan hated chit-chat, and he suddenly felt awkward and out of his element, unnerved by this small child. "I've not yet adjusted to Alderaan time," he supplied.

Leia nodded in understanding, and Obi-Wan realized that as Bail's daughter she was probably already an experienced space traveler. "I hope your trip was pleasant," she offered.

"It was nice enough," though in truth the freighter that brought him here was not accustomed to carrying sentient cargo. He nodded toward the smaller desk where Leia had been sitting. "What were you working on when I interrupted you?"

Leia started to scowl in disgust before catching herself. "I'm writing a history report."

"I take it you don't like history."

"Sure, I do," Leia protested eagerly. "Real history, that is. But this is Imperial history."

"I see." Even on remote Tatooine the schools followed only an Imperial-approved curriculum. "What period are you studying?"

"The Clone Wars," Leia began, then broke off to jump up and fetch the book from her desk. Without preamble she climbed into Obi-Wan's lap and rifled through the pages. "You're in here!" she announced. "There's even a picture of you." She found the page and pointed it out to him, a portrait of him in military uniform. He remembered that picture, taken early on in the wars, before the endless cycle of violence had worn down any faith he had left in the goodness of the galaxy. It was perhaps the last time he had known any happiness.

But of course a child would look at it a different way. "You were sooooo cute!" Leia beamed at him. Years of Jedi training enabled Obi- Wan not to roll his eyes. Must every Organa have a crush on him?

Returning her attention to the book, Leia read the picture's caption. "General Obi-Wan Kenobi, a member of the Jedi sect, led the forces seeking to suppress the vital new cloning technology." She grunted in disapproval. "They don't say very nice things about you. 'Course, this is only Imperial history." She brightened again to maximum wattage. "Hey, I have an idea! Whenever I have to write a report for Imperial history, Papa always has me write another report for him of the real version. Maybe I could write it about you. I can interview you all about the wars and everything. Will you help me?"

"With pleasure," he smiled. "So you have to write two reports? How ghastly."

"Not really. I love writing Papa's reports. It's like a mystery. I have to figure out what part of the Imperial history is true, which parts are biased or misrepresented, and which parts are total lies. Then I have to find out what parts they left out entirely, and I have to write the whole thing as it really happened."

"That's a tremendous amount of work," Obi-Wan observed. "It sounds like you would make an excellent detective."

"Oh, no. I'm going to be a senator, so Papa and I can restore the Republic." Curious, she asked, "Is that why you're here, to discuss the Alliance with my father?"

The what? "Um, no. I'm...here about something else."

Her brow furrowed in concentration. "You must be here to talk about restoring the Jedi, then. I think it would be a good idea for the Jedi to be part of the Alliance, don't you?"

The turn in conversation was beginning to make him uncomfortable, not least because he had no idea what this Alliance was she kept talking about. His discomfort must have shown in his expression, because Leia picked up on it. "I'm sorry," she hastily apologized. "I'm prying, aren't I? Papa says I shouldn't. It's rude and dangerous. He also says I'm too young to have political opinions." She gazed up at him with large brown eyes that sparked with conviction. "But I don't think so. I'm old enough to know what's right and what's wrong. I want to stop the Empire. I may only be ten, but surely I can help restore the Republic, too, can't I?"

Her passion astounded Obi-Wan. Here she was, a mere child, and she sounded like...like a Jedi initiate. The same rigorous education, the same moral conviction, the same awareness of purpose. She knew exactly what she was talking about. In his own secular way, Bail was already training Leia to be a Jedi. With despair, Obi-Wan thought of Luke, still innocent, chasing sand frogs in the desert and suffering through an indifferent education. /What have I done, to leave him to be raised by farmers?/ Farmers who knew nothing about the Jedi or the Empire or the Republic. At the time it had seemed riskier to place Leia with Bail, whom Anakin had known well, but at least she was being raised by someone who could prepare her for the future. In trying to keep Luke safe, Obi-Wan had condemned the boy to ignorance. /I am a fool, and I have failed again./

Obi-Wan had no time to linger over his despair, however, for the door to the study opened and Bail entered, bearing a tray laden with enough food to feed Obi-Wan for three days. He smiled to see his daughter curled up so comfortably on the Jedi's lap. "Getting acquainted, are we?" he asked as he settled the tray on the low table in front of Obi-Wan.

"Yes," Leia beamed. "I'm going to write my report for you on General Kenobi. He said he would help me."

Her father raised an eyebrow. "That's very kind of him, but you ought to be discreet, Leelee. After all, General Kenobi is wanted by the Empire."

Bail's comment was straightforward, as if he were discussing Obi- Wan's hair color, but it reminded Obi-Wan that his was not a social call. Clearing his throat, he suggested, "I would prefer it if you both do not refer to me by that name. I trust you, but...."

"That's understandable," Bail agreed. "What should we call you instead?"

"My identity card reads 'Ben Lars.'"

Warm pleasure filled Bail to hear that his old nickname for Obi-Wan had become the man's alias. "Ben Lars it is, then." He shot a glance at Leia. "That's 'Uncle Ben' to you, young lady."

"All right," Leia agreed, crestfallen. She glanced sadly up at her "uncle." "So you can't help me with my report?"

"I'll help you," Obi-Wan assured her. "But let's write it about the wars and not about me."

Slightly heartened, Leia urged, "Can we write it about the Jedi involvement in the wars?"

Bail chided, "You are persistent, aren't you? For pity's sake, Leelee, let the man eat his dinner in peace."

"It's all right," Obi-Wan avowed. "It sounds like an excellent topic."

Pleased, Leia slid out of the Jedi's lap so he could tackle his meal, and climbed into her father's lap instead, showing him Obi-Wan's picture. "I told Gen-Uncle Ben - that the Jedi ought to be part of the Alliance."

"Recruiting again, eh?"

"How can there be a Republic without the Jedi?"

Between mouthfuls - when had he last eaten such savory food? - Obi- Wan observed, "She told me she's going to be a senator, and I have no trouble believing it."

Bail wrapped his arms around Leia. "Yes, she'll follow in her father's irascible footsteps, and I've no doubt she will far surpass my own reputation for troublemaking."

Obi-Wan suppressed a shudder at the reference to Leia's father. Bail did not know whose child Leia really was. Obi-Wan had merely told him that her parents had been Jedi. No one in the galaxy knew the truth, save him and Yoda.

Bail watched as Obi-Wan ate in silence. It seemed a miracle that he was here at all. He wanted this moment to last forever, the three of them together, his daughter in his lap, his lover close enough to touch. But he knew it could not last, and Obi-Wan still had not told him why he'd come. With a hint of rebuke, Bail observed, "If I'd known you were coming I could have arranged some time away from my duties."

Obi-Wan remained silent, having caught the hint. But there was nothing to say. There was no way he could have safely gotten a message to the Prince. Bail knew it as well, knew that part of Obi- Wan's security on this visit would depend on Bail maintaining his usual schedule. Still, after a decade-long absence, he wanted to spend as much time with Obi-Wan as he could before the Jedi inevitably disappeared once more into the galaxy's expanse. Reluctant to bring up business, but aware that he needed to know sooner rather than later, Bail queried, "Is your visit with us one of business or pleasure? Surely you are not here merely to help Leia write her report."

Obi-Wan smiled, but was unsure how to answer the question. Certainly he had no business being on Alderaan, but pleasure? He had all but forgotten what the word meant. It was not pleasure that had brought him to Alderaan, either. Desperation, loneliness, a weariness and grief that had become too heavy to bear.... No, it was not pleasure. At last he said, "I just thought a visit was long overdue."

A thrill of happiness pulsed through Bail, and he was surprised to find how pleased he was that Obi-Wan had come solely to see him. Bail never felt entirely secure in his relationship with Obi-Wan. First Qui-Gon, then Anakin, and indeed the entire Jedi Order came before him in Obi-Wan's life. Bail couldn't begrudge him those ties, since as a Senator and now First Chair he had obligations of his own. But he secretly feared that he was not really necessary to Obi- Wan, that the Jedi could do perfectly well without him, that he was at best a pleasant diversion. And yet Obi-Wan would not have risked this visit for a mere diversion, would he? And if he had not come for any business, then it must mean he missed Bail enough to risk the trip to see him. Bail could barely contain the joy this knowledge gave him, and he drew Leia more tightly to him, stroking her hair and lavishing on her the love he felt for the Jedi. For now it was an almost unbearable pleasure simply to watch Obi-Wan eating.

"And how long will you stay?"

Obi-Wan continued to avoid Bail's gaze, concentrating on his meal. "Not long, I'm afraid. Only about a week."

Bail's happiness congealed into a cold mass in his heart. He had suffered enough under the Empire to know Obi-Wan really could not risk staying longer, but his heart could not bear it. He turned his face away, resting his cheek on the top of Leia's head, struggling to rein in his despair. /I will be strong for him. I will not torment him by asking for more than he can give./

But it was Leia who voiced his protest. "Only a week! No! You have to stay longer." She writhed in Bail's grip. "Papa, tell him he has to stay!"

"Hush, Leia. Don't be rude," Bail chided gently. He turned back to face Obi-Wan. His tone soft and even, he offered, "You are welcome to stay as long as you like. If you can only spare a week, then we will be content with that." Leia registered her disagreement with a quiet whimper, but was well-bred enough not to say anything more.

"Thank you," Obi-Wan replied, looking down at his plate. "I wish I could stay longer, but...."

"We understand." But Bail did not understand why Obi-Wan wouldn't look at him, why he did little more than pick at his food, why he appeared so destitute and old. It was a testimony to how bad things had gotten in the galaxy that a Jedi Knight could have sunk so low. Anger flooded him, and Bail thought maybe it was a good thing after all if Obi-Wan stayed with them only a week. He didn't know how he could survive the endless roil of emotions the visit had already roused in him.

Again he tried to dissipate his emotions by focusing on the mundane. "Why don't you eat, man?" he scolded abruptly. "You're scrawny as a Gungan in the dry season."

Leia wagged a reproving finger at her father. "Now, you're being rude, Bobo!"

To Bail's surprise, Obi-Wan barked a sharp laugh at that. "I can't believe you let her call you 'Bobo.'"

"And why not?" Bail protested with a sly smile. "You have adopted your old nickname for an alias."

"Yes, but my nickname has an honorable origin."

"And my own initials don't constitute an honorable origin?"

"I don't mind 'Bo' so much, but 'Bobo?' I always thought it was an absurd name."

"Now you're insulting my sisters! They're the ones who gave me that name."

"I like to call Papa 'Bobo!'" Leia jumped in with her own defense.

Obi-Wan raised his hands in concession. "All right, all right. Clearly it's one of those Organa things. I should know better than to question family tradition."

Only slightly mollified, Leia asked, "Where does the name 'Ben' come from, anyway?"

"It comes from Bendu, an old term of respect for the Jedi," Bail explained.

Leia frowned, "But if it means 'Jedi,' it's not safe for you to use it."

Obi-Wan smiled at her concern. "Don't worry. I don't think anyone will make the connection from Ben to Bendu to Jedi." Still he was impressed by her insight. She was clearly accustomed to dealing with fugitives of the Empire.

Bail was enjoying their banter, but he realized he was ready to have Obi-Wan to himself. "Young lady," he announced, "it is high time for you to go to bed."

"Aw," Leia complained. There had to be some angle she could work. "But we have a guest."

"Yes, and you should leave him to me so that we can reminisce about the good old days when we were young and handsome."

"But I think you're handsome now, Papa."

"Thank you, dearest, but flattery will not get you a later bedtime. You have school tomorrow. No more complaining."

Leia grumbled in protest, but said nothing. She kissed her father good night, then ran to Obi-Wan's lap. "Good night, Uncle Ben," she said, planting a sloppy wet kiss on his lips, then scampered off to bed.

Bail raised an eyebrow as Obi-Wan dragged his sleeve across his mouth. "Are you wiping off my daughter's kiss?" he asked in mock horror.

"Um...only the excess," Obi-Wan apologized. "She is quite a young lady, your daughter."

Bail responded with a contented smile. He loved hearing Leia praised.

"What have you told her about her parents?" Obi-Wan asked cautiously.

"Nothing, only that they died in the war. She doesn't know they were Jedi. I'll tell her eventually when I think she's old enough to handle it, but for now at least she has not been very curious about them."

Obi-Wan was silent for a moment. "You seem to think she's old enough to handle quite a bit of knowledge."

"I beg your pardon?"

"About the Alliance. About...me. Is it safe to entrust a child with so much knowledge about dangerous topics?"

"It's an important part of my life," Bail pointed out. "Yes, it is a lot to entrust to her, but the alternative would be to lie to my child, and I will not do that. I decided early on to include her in my life, my activities, and my political opinions - even the illegal ones. She doesn't really know anything the Empire doesn't already know or at least suspect about me, and I have trained her to be discreet. It is a sad fact, but a true one, that even children need to be aware of the current state of our galaxy. She needs to be prepared to do her part - hopefully not anytime soon, but I will not raise my child in ignorance. That is an indulgence none of us can afford. Someday she will need to take a stand either for the Empire or against it. I owe it to her to prepare her for that choice."

"You have trained her well," Obi-Wan observed in quiet admiration. "It seems a heavy burden to place on a child, but not a heavy burden for a Jedi. When the time comes, she will be ready."

Bail accepted the commendation without reply. When Obi-Wan had brought Leia to him, he knew he was being entrusted with a dangerous secret. Obi-Wan had told him of the child's Jedi parents, and that the Empire would not stoop to destroy even one so young. But she had also proven to be the greatest gift he had ever been given. "Obi- Wan, I can't thank you enough for bringing her to me. If it hadn't been for her, I'm not sure I could have survived these last years. I need someone to believe in, someone to love."

"You would have survived," Obi-Wan asserted, but Bail was not so sure.

For a while they sat in silence, but a silence that grew less companionable the longer it lasted. Too many years had gone by, too much had happened for any silence between them to be comfortable. Restlessly, Obi-Wan stood. "I should be leaving as well. The journey was long, and I am tired."

"What?" Bail roused. "Are you going already?"

"Don't worry, I won't go far. I rented a room in town." Again Obi- Wan looked away. He seemed unable to meet Bail's gaze for any length of time. "I didn't want to inconvenience you."

"How could you possible be an inconvenience to me?" Bail retorted, with more anger than he meant to show. "I forbid you to stay anywhere on Alderaan except under my roof! Tell me where you are staying so I can cancel your reservation."

"Really, it's no problem," Obi-Wan protested.

His refusal wounded Bail deeply. Why was it so hard between them now? Had things really changed so much? Softly, he offered, "You may stay in a guest room if you desire solitude. I will not bother you if you do not wish it. But you must stay here."

Obi-Wan stared at the floor, overwhelmed and uncertain. Once he would have known his place in Bail's home. Indeed he still knew it, but he was afraid to claim it for fear of others who might have usurped his position of favor. Yet this was the whole reason why he had come. "If I'm going to stay here, I'd rather stay with you. In truth, I didn't come this far only to sleep alone."

Bail slid up close to him, not touching him, but only a hair's breadth away. "I should hope not," he whispered, and Obi-Wan could feel his breath on his cheek. The Prince's fingers curled around his hand, warm and possessive. "Come. Let's go to bed."

The words sent an erotic thrill crawling through Obi-Wan's gut, painful in its intensity. Is this really why he was here? After all he'd been through, all the years apart, what he really wanted from Bail was sex? As the Prince led him out of the room and down the hall, Obi-Wan knew it was indeed what he wanted. Suddenly he realized how cold and alone he was on Tatooine, his senses dulled by the monotony of his existence, his skin numbed by the ever-present sand. He was dead, dead, and he needed Bail to quicken him, needed to feel *something.* He didn't care if he was using Bail. The Prince had never minded being used that way before. So why did Obi- Wan feel that he was betraying him?

They entered the bedroom, unmistakably Bail's. Obi-Wan recognized several of the small sculptures, rugs, and other knick-knacks. Even without those familiar pieces, though, Obi-Wan would always be able to recognize Bail's imprint on a room. Unlike the Jedi, the Prince liked to mold his environment to suit his tastes. But more than an appeal to aesthetics, the objects in the room were a collection of memories important to Bail, gifts given to him by people he cared about, tokens of important events and places. Obi-Wan had never been much for gift-giving, something he now regretted. Was he somehow remembered here? His gaze swept the room, seeking for any reassurance that he had not been forgotten.

He recognized nothing as belonging uniquely to him. Frantically, he began to paw through the knick-knacks. Surely something had once been his, a gift, a memory of some kind. He found his picture on the table beside the bed, but it was one amid a number of others. Who were these other people, and how many of them had taken his place in Bail's arms? They smiled up at him, smug, self-satisfied, and he wanted to snatch them up and dash them against the wall.

Behind him, a soft voice asked, "Is this what you're looking for?"

His breathing ragged, eyes burning, Obi-Wan turned to see Bail removing a chain and locket from his neck. He pushed a clasp on the locket, and it opened to reveal a lock of honey-red hair nestled inside.

A memory stirred deep within his brain, of the last time he had seen Bail, that awful, awful day when he had delivered Leia into his hands while concealing her twin in the back of the ship, the day when he had begun his exile, the day he had died to the life he had once known. Bail had asked for a lock of his hair. He had given Obi-Wan a lock of his own in exchange, but Obi-Wan had lost it almost immediately. He had been nearly mad with grief at the time. He still didn't know how he had made it safely to Tatooine with the boy. He had forgotten all about that lock of hair. But Bail had not. Dear, sentimental Bail, would not.

The Prince closed the locket and held it to his heart. "I've never taken another lover, Ben," he told him. "I'll never want anyone but you."

At his words, something broke inside Obi-Wan, a need he hadn't dared admit having. A sob tore itself free from his chest, then another, and another, and he was overwhelmed, drowning, choking on his tears. He sank to the floor, tremendous sobs racking his body, as Bail's arms wound around him, soothing and tender.

Slowly Obi-Wan's crying eased as Bail murmured gentle reassurances into his ear, running his hands through his hair, touching his weathered skin. Soft kisses followed Bail's fingers as he traced the lines of Obi-Wan's face, so light Obi-Wan almost couldn't feel them. His fingers curled tightly into Bail's sleeves, pulling him closer, but still Bail touched him lightly, as if he feared Obi-Wan's skin would crumble away like ash beneath his fingers. This wasn't what he wanted, this gentleness, this reverent touch. Bail would never make it past the hardened layers Obi-Wan had built around his heart. He needed to be broken, battered, shattered in order to be rebuilt. He could no longer give himself away. He needed to be claimed, taken. His apprentice had been transformed into a new man by the fire. Obi- Wan needed to be burned, too.

"No, no, not like this," he protested, pulling away from Bail's touch. His eyes latched onto Bail's, boring deeply into them for the first time that night. "Fuck me."

Bail's expression clouded with confusion, and Obi-Wan realized his words had hurt him, but his imploring gaze did not waver, begging him to understand. Bail's eyes broke away, following his hand as he slowly trailed a line down Obi-Wan's chest, over his heart, down his belly. Obi-Wan could feel Bail gathering his grief at their long separation, resentment at not knowing where Obi-Wan was, never hearing from him, not knowing if they would ever meet again. Bail called upon those feelings of abandonment and rejection, invoking passion of one kind to rouse passion of another. When he raised his eyes to Obi-Wan's again, they burned with dark emotions of hunger and wounded love. Without warning, he descended on Obi-Wan, swallowing him with brutal kisses, pressing against him with his full weight, hands no longer gentle but demanding. Obi-Wan felt the breath squeezed out of him, his lips bruising beneath Bail's assault, his body responding at last.

Abruptly, Bail shifted, pulling away. Obi-Wan groped blindly for him, but Bail eluded his grasp, hooking his fingers into the waistband of Obi-Wan's pants and jerking down to reveal the tattoo low on his hip, the initials that Obi-Wan had given to the guards. "You are mine," Bail growled. "No matter how far away you go, no matter how long - for all time you are marked as mine. Do not forget that."

"Never," Obi-Wan breathed, then moaned as Bail reached for him once more.

It was over in minutes, the scrabble of clothing, hands and mouths devouring, skin slapping against skin, Bail plunging into him like a key sliding into a lock, releasing him, setting him free. No words, no tender murmurings of love, just grunts and gasps, two bodies shuddering together in raw release, and Obi-Wan felt it all, felt the heat penetrate the deepest corners of his soul. He was only dimply aware of Bail collapsing over him, had no idea how long they lay together on the floor, or how they eventually made it onto the bed. He knew only that his lover's arms and legs were wrapped around him, tightly, as if they would never let go. Bail's embrace admitted no thought, no pain or fear, no doubt or grief. Obi-Wan submerged himself in that embrace, never knowing when sleep, blissfully free of dreams, at last overcame him.

Day Two

Someone called his name, and he came instantly awake, opening his eyes to see Bail leaning over him, an affectionate smile on his lips. "You look so peaceful asleep," Bail said. "I hated to wake you, but I thought you might like to have breakfast with Leia and me."

Obi-Wan nodded and sat up, aware of the fact that Bail was already dressed, aware of the sun slanting in through the bedroom window. He never slept so late.

Bail pressed a kiss to his forehead, then stood to leave. 'I'll go see about breakfast. In the meantime, feel free to go through my wardrobe and find...something else to wear." His lips quirked in a wry smile. "That is, unless you really prefer those old robes."

Obi-Wan scowled back as Bail laughed and left the room. He contemplated taking a shower, but rejected the idea as he would probably end up spending another half hour beneath the water. As it was, Bail's bathroom was so large, Obi-Wan almost got lost in it. Likewise the array of clothing in the wardrobe overwhelmed him. At least Bail's taste had somewhat mellowed over the years. It took Obi- Wan only three tries to find something he could stand to wear. Even so, he was glad not to have to wear it in public. The robe he'd selected might be simple by Bail's standards, utterly without decoration, but the fabric was so fine Obi-Wan felt horribly overdressed. Nevertheless, the idea of wearing Bail's clothes pleased him. As he slid the robe over his shoulders, he could almost feel Bail's silken hands caressing his skin. He didn't bother with his boots. The carpet felt wonderful beneath his bare feet.

He entered the hallway to find a servant waiting to escort him to breakfast. Good thing Bail had thought of that. Obi-Wan had not seen the whole house yet, and he would have had no idea where to find the breakfast room. But then Bail had always been a most considerate host.

It was therefore a sign of how late Obi-Wan had slept in that Bail and Leia had had to start breakfast without him. Bail started to apologize, but Obi-Wan waved him off, clutching the robe self- consciously around him as he settled into a chair. "You two have a schedule to keep. I don't want to inconvenience you."

"Never an inconvenience, Ben," Bail assured him. "What will you do all day while we're away?"

As if he hadn't spent the last decade living alone in a wasteland. "I'll think of something."

"You have the run of the house, of course. Or take a speeder into town." Bail smirked. "Do some shopping."

"I think it would be wiser if I remain unseen as much as possible."

"As you wish."

"When I get home from school, we can work on my report," Leia offered, eager to prove herself a better host than her father.

"I shall look forward to it," Obi-Wan assured her with a smile.

They only had a few more minutes before Bail and Leia had to leave. Obi-Wan finished his breakfast alone, then found his way back to the study where the three of them had met the previous night. He used Bail's computer to log onto the holonet and check out the latest news. Back in his day as a Jedi, Obi-Wan had never made a great effort to keep up with current events, but then he hardly had to. Between living at the Republic's capital and being sent on missions to the galaxy's troublespots, not to mention dating a prominent Senator, he had always lived in the thick of things. Tatooine, however, was far removed from the galaxy in more ways than one. Not only was it completely insignificant in the grand scheme of things (other than Obi-Wan's own pending project), but out on his homestead on the Dune Sea, he never had the opportunity to encounter any news. It had taken a while for him to adjust his sphere of interest down to his new level as an exile, but now, glancing through the holonet reports, Obi-Wan found that he had so completely adapted to a myopic world-view that the news didn't seem to have anything to do with him. And why should it? The galaxy had turned its back on the Jedi, so why should he care what it did with itself? He had his own agenda now, so let the galaxy get by on its own.

He switched off the computer and went to explore the house, but he was soon distracted by the view through the windows. There was nothing much to see outside his home on Tatooine, and the sheer abundance of life here attracted him. Through the windows he could see the river access and a garden, flowers blooming along a small, winding gravel path. So many colors, in an infinity of shades. The movement mesmerized him. In the desert things moved very slowly, but here the slightest breeze sent the blossoms dancing and nodding. Leaves on the trees rustled and fluttered, and the river glided by in endless motion, bobbing ripples, sparkles of reflected sunlight. It almost gave Obi-Wan a headache, yet he was enthralled. The river was an inanimate object, yet it was vivacious like a living creature, breathing, skipping, laughing.

Obi-Wan sank into contemplation of the river, not caring how long he spent watching it, forgetting to explore the rest of the house. Another result of his life on Tatooine was that small increments of time had long ceased to have any meaning for him. What was a minute or an hour, when anonymous days stretched endlessly before him, on a world that lacked even the rhythm of changing seasons? Obi-Wan couldn't look back and say, "That was the year I twisted my ankle climbing the canyon walls," or "In that year a sandstorm swallowed my well and I had to dig a new one." He could remember the sequence of events, but not when they had happened or how much time passed between them. The desert had finally succeeded in teaching him what Qui-Gon never could: to live in the present moment. Obi-Wan had always been more attuned to the unifying Force, to the grander scheme, the ever-shifting plane of future possibilities. But none of these existed on Tatooine, where Obi-Wan could spend all day watching dual shadows creep across the canyon floor as he waiting patiently for a rock hare to appear for his dinner, when his calendar was defined by how long it took the tubers to grow back in each grotto from which he collected them.

It was therefore a simple thing for him to lose track of time in the Viceroy's mansion, to pass the entire day in the familiar contemplation of his own guilt, standing at the window, watching the endless course of the river, like the constant ebb and flow of sand in the Dune Sea.

That was how Leia found him when she returned home from school that afternoon - standing barefoot in her father's robe, hands clasped behind his back, eyes on the river. She did not disturb him, merely stood at his side looking up into his troubled face. He knew she was there, but he had lost the art of conversation as well as the concept of time, so he said nothing, and she, impressed by a grown-up who knew how to be silent, said nothing either. She slipped her small hand into his and turned her gaze out toward the river, waiting patiently to see what it would bring her.

Thoughts flowed by in the river of her mind. She watched them approach and then pass on by, big thoughts and little ones, some bobbing on the waves, others moving slowly. At last one thought snagged on the riverbank. It was not any more important than the others. Fate simply caused the current to push it to the edge where it stuck, and she hauled it into speech. "Papa says he wants to live on a boat. He would sail and sail forever and never come to ground."

Without looking away from the river, Obi-Wan smiled. "I remember that dream."

"Me, I'd rather fly," Leia continued. "I like to be up in the air, looking down at everything so small on the ground, like they're toys."

"It would be hard to live in the air," Obi-Wan observed. "Even birds have to come down sometimes."

Leia reluctantly nodded. "Maybe...a tree house? In a very tall tree!"

Obi-Wan laughed and squeezed her hand. "You should live on Kashyyyk, with the Wookiees. The trees are hundreds of meters high. That's probably as close as you could come to living in the air."

Encouraged, Leia asked, "Have you ever ridden a thranta before?"

"Yes, I have. A long time ago, with your father."

"I love thrantas. I want one of my own, but Papa says it's too big of a responsibility for such a little girl."

"He has a point."

"I would take good care of it! Maybe when I'm older. I want a white one, and I would name it Cloudswimmer or Skyrunner. That sounds better than Skywalker, because thrantas don't really walk."

At the name of his former apprentice, Obi-Wan stiffened. Leia looked up at him. "You miss him, don't you?" Before he could answer, even if he had been capable of answering, she continued, "Papa told me about your Padawan. I always thought he had such a pretty name. I'm sorry he died."

Obi-Wan struggled against his grief, and eventually won. "I do miss him," he answered truthfully.

"I guess you miss all the Jedi. They were your family. It must be hard, with all of them gone." She chewed on her lower lip, then squeezed his hand and leaned closer to him, looking earnestly up into his face. "But we're your family, too. Papa says you're my other father."

Obi-Wan couldn't bear to look at her, almost couldn't stand to touch her. How could a single statement be so true and so wrong at the same time? He was indeed bound to this child by the promises he had made on her behalf, promises he had made to Padme and to Yoda, even to Bail. His only reason to live anymore was the commitment he had made to the two children, but how could he be trusted to honor that commitment after all his betrayals?

The familiar vertigo of helpless fear washed over him. His life, everything, was completely out of his hands, and yet at the same time he was the key, the one unifying knot that bound all these threads of fate together. He had not chosen this role, and he certainly did not want it, but his destiny had been sealed when his dying Master had made him promise to train a young slave from Tatooine. His life had never been his to own, the choice never his to make, but the responsibility and the guilt both belonged to him alone.

As a politician's daughter, Leia was fairly astute at understanding people, and her latent Force-sensitivity gave her a powerful empathy. She could feel the waves of distress rolling off the man standing next to her, and it worried her. "Uncle Ben?"

Her soft voice roused him out of himself, and he berated himself for frightening her. Uncle, she had called him, not Father. He could manage to be an uncle: interesting, fun, but not a part of everyday life, detached from any real responsibility for her. Uncle would do nicely. Shaking the last of the depression off him, he suggested brightly, "Why don't we go work on your report?"

Leia was agreeable enough, relieved that he had cheered up. As astute as she was, she wasn't quite mature enough to handle a grown- up in despair.

They spent the next hour or so discussing the Clone Wars. The subject held many unpleasant memories for Obi-Wan, but the Wars were one of the few recent events of history that he did not feel personally responsible for, so he could remember them without too much recrimination. Besides, Leia was young enough not to ask the deeper moral question raised by the Wars and the role they played in the eventual establishment of the Empire. She asked questions she could understand: how and where and who, factual questions that were easy enough for Obi-Wan to answer.

Then Bail came home, bringing enough cheerfulness to banish the last remnants of Obi-Wan's malaise. The three of them were indeed like family then, Bail quizzing Leia about her report, Leia asking Bail about his speech, the two of them giving Obi-Wan the grand tour of their garden, Leia pointing out the spot that would make an excellent pen for a thranta, as much for her father's benefit as for Obi- Wan's. They enjoyed a lively dinner, then settled down for several hands of cards, punctuated by the latest seditious jokes from Bail, bad puns from Leia, and Obi-Wan's repertoire of animal calls he had learned to imitate on Tatooine. (Leia was particularly impressed by his ronto.)

At last it was time for Leia to go to bed. She tried everything she could think of to delay the fateful sentence, but her charms were no match for Obi-Wan's in her father's eyes, and in the end she had to concede defeat, an admission tempered by the fact that she got Obi- Wan to help her father tuck her into bed.

They left Leia's bedroom and returned to Bail's in silence, the Prince's arm linked through Obi-Wan's. Now that they were alone together Obi-Wan felt awkward, overwhelmed by the deep need once more pressing upon him. He did not want to talk, wanted only to feel Bail's hands on him, wanted to escape into the realm of sensations that would drown out thought. He was afraid of what Bail might say, of what he might ask, questions that Obi-Wan did not want to answer. Sex was safer.

When they reached Bail's room, Obi-Wan turned without a word and reached for the Prince, burying himself in his arms, smothering him with his kiss. With a sigh, Bail allowed Obi-Wan to drag him to the bed, hands ripping at clothing, bodies seeking each other in desperation. Again that flood of passion, that need to lose themselves in near violent love-making.

Their union was as brief as it was intense. Afterward, Obi-Wan lay curled against Bail's side, his hand resting on his chest, not moving or saying anything, his breathing deep and even. Bail rested his cheek on the crown of Obi-Wan's head, fingers running idly through the thinning hair. His body was satisfied, but his heart was not. Somehow he felt more alone, lying here holding this familiar stranger in his arms, than he had all those years when he never knew where Obi- Wan was. "Are you asleep?" he asked softly.

For a long time there was no response, although Bail knew Obi-Wan was awake. The silence hurt, but he resolved not to challenge it. Finally Obi-Wan stirred. "No."

Again silence, this time heavy, weighed down with all the unspoken words and questions that hung between them. It became too much for Bail, and he shifted out from under Obi-Wan, sliding out of the bed. He snagged his robe from a nearby chair, the robe Obi-Wan had worn all day, and shrugged into it, moving to stand by the window as he ran his hands through his tousled hair. Outside it was dark, and he could see only his own ghostly reflection, silhouetted against the soft light in the room.

He waited, but Obi-Wan did not come to join him, did not slide his arms around Bail's waist or rest his chin on his shoulder. Bail shivered as he realized how great a gulf now existed between them. It was clear that Obi-Wan would make no attempt to bridge this gulf, and for all Bail's skills at diplomacy, he did not know how he could manage the détente. Obi-Wan's wounds were too deep, his scars too tough to be healed. But then, he had never really understood Obi-Wan or their relationship. So why did he need to understand it now?

He returned to the bed, perching next to Obi-Wan. The Jedi reluctantly sat up, the sheets sliding off his chest, his eyes downcast as if steeling himself against whatever Bail might say. But Bail merely studied Obi-Wan, examining the face he hadn't seen in so long, and Force only knew when he would see again. He cupped Obi- Wan's cheek in his palm, lightly running his thumb over the beard, feeling the twitch of muscle as the jaw clenched.

Obi-Wan submitted to the caress, waiting for Bail to speak, but when he realized Bail was going to say nothing, demand nothing of him, was content merely to have him here, Obi-Wan's resistance crumbled. He could have withstood an assault, accusations, demands, but this gentle acceptance wore him down. He realized he made a rotten lover. "I'm sorry," he whispered, still avoiding Bail's eyes.

His apology sparked genuine surprise. "For what?"

"This can't be the reunion you imagined."

More silence as Bail contemplated. "No," he confessed. "But at least it's real." Obi-Wan angrily shook his head, jerking away from Bail's touch, and Bail felt a surge of irritation at Obi-Wan's never- ending guilt, but he calmed himself, releasing his anger as easily as it had arisen.

"Do you remember that game we used to play?" he asked. "Where we would imagine our lives if you were not a Jedi and I were not a senator? We were going to run away to...Caamas, was it?"

Obi-Wan looked across the room, still avoiding Bail, but remembering. "Ithor."

"Yes, Ithor, for the sacred forest," Bail agreed. "And I was going to be a lawyer, and you would teach martial arts, I believe. And we would live happily ever after, worrying about no one but ourselves."

Obi-Wan twisted the sheet in his hands. "I remember."

"We loved that game, but it was never more than a fantasy, Ben. All we've ever had were these stolen moments. Really, even if there were still a Republic and a Jedi Order, nothing would be much different from now for us. I might see you a little more often, but we still wouldn't be able to live together." He raised his hand once more to Obi-Wan's cheek, turning his face toward him. "This is all we've ever had."

Obi-Wan leaned his cheek into Bail's palm, the tender touch melting through his defenses. Tears pressed up in his throat. He wanted to give in to them, but he could not, not yet, because he knew when he did it would be horrible. He wanted Bail to love him for a little while longer.

Sensing Obi-Wan's despair, Bail gently prompted, "Tell me, Ben. Let me give you what comfort I can. It's why you came here, isn't it?"

"You don't know what you're asking," Obi-Wan protested hoarsely.

"You've borne so much. Let me bear it, too."

Obi-Wan squeezed his eyes shut, treacherous tears sliding out from beneath his eyelashes. /Not now,/ he silently begged. /Please, not yet./ But there was no one left to grant him a reprieve. There was only Bail, who had always been willing to listen. Bail heard the confessions that he, as a Jedi, could make to no one else.

"It's just that I can't endure it," Obi-Wan began, the words dragging themselves out of his throat. "That I alone of all the Jedi should live is such a travesty of justice it makes me doubt the goodness of the Force. I wish I had died, too. Force knows -- indeed, the Force knows I should have died. How I wish now I had the courage to take my life, but I don't dare. No, it's probably the Force's idea of punishment that I should live, to see all the evil that has come about because of my folly."

"How dare you speak that way?" Bail chided, his voice soft but stern. "The hero of the Clone Wars? You were the greatest Jedi of our time."

But his words only evoked anger in Obi-Wan. "The greatest Jedi?" he spat scornfully, his eyes burning venom. "The greatest traitor! You have no idea what I've done, Bail. Everything that has happened -- Palpatine's rise, the fall of the Republic, the destruction of the Jedi -- it's all because of me."

"How can you say that?"

"Believe me, Bail, there are truths you are better off not knowing, but I assure you, I do not over-estimate my guilt. The blood of millions is on my hands!"

"Obi-Wan, stop it," Bail snapped. He grabbed the Jedi's face firmly between his hands, forcing him to meet his gaze. "You are not responsible. Are you going to say you should have been able to predict it all, that you could have stopped it? No individual has that power." Obi-Wan opened his mouth to protest, but Bail would not let him speak. "Listen to me. We are all culpable for the Republic's demise. Ordinary citizens like me, we'd come to rely too much on the Jedi, expecting them to do the work of peace and justice for us. We even scorned them for it, for taking care of our dirty work while we allowed ourselves to be lulled into complacency by Palpatine's lies. Yes, even me! It was the Jedi who paid the price for our folly. Now the responsibility once more lies with us, with ordinary citizens, to bring the Republic back. It is our responsibility now to protect the Jedi."

Again Obi-Wan struggled. "You don't know what you're talking about...."

"Oh yes, I do. Believe me, I do." His voice was thick with love. "I have already suffered to protect you, Ben."

Dread sliced into Obi-Wan's stomach like the blade of a cool knife. "What do you mean, 'suffered?'"

Bail faltered. "I don't want to add to your mistaken feelings of guilt."

Obi-Wan's fingers dug painfully into Bail's arms. "Tell me!"

Again Bail hesitated, not wanting to go into it. But if he was demanding a confession from Obi-Wan, then he owed the Jedi nothing less than the truth in return. "Not long after I last saw you, I was... detained by the Empire. They knew of my connection to you, and they thought I could tell them where you were. Of course, I couldn't." Hesitantly, he added, "Although in truth I'm glad I didn't know. I like to think I could have held out, but they were... rather persuasive."

Feeling sick, Obi-Wan whispered, "You were tortured?"

Bail lightly corrected, "The Empire does not torture, they interrogate. Actually, in a way I was honored. No less important a personage than Lord Vader himself supervised my interrogation, although his presence was probably due more to you than to me."

Vader! Horrified, Obi-Wan squeezed his eyes shut, struggling against the sickening revulsion that swelled up inside him. His Padawan had tortured his lover. Somehow of all Vader's many, many crimes, this seemed the most vile. And Obi-Wan was to blame. "Not Vader," he moaned.

His plea confused Bail, who sought to reassure him. "In a way, it worked out for the best. Alderaan was furious about my detention. They threatened to pull out of the Empire. I'm not sure whether we could have really pulled it off, but it gave Palpatine enough of a scare that he released me and had to keep his distance after that. Of course I was still monitored, but they stayed away from me whenever I was on Alderaan. That's why I finally resigned the Senate and moved back home. What with the clout I'd gained from my unjust imprisonment, and the relative freedom I've enjoyed on Alderaan, I've been able to do more for the Alliance than I ever could have if I remained on Coruscant."

But Obi-Wan would not be appeased. Indeed, he scarcely heard anything Bail said. He felt ill, he *would* be ill. Bail, tortured by Anakin! And the Prince proud of it, as if it were a badge of his love, all the while unaware of who was really responsible. Obi-Wan's betrayal was complete. He deserved no sympathy, no pity from anyone. Least of all did he deserve this devotion from Bail.

He had sworn to Yoda that he would never reveal to anyone the secret of Vader's identity, but he knew he owed Bail. He could not continue to accept his love as if he were somehow worthy of it. It would kill him to break with Bail, but it was no less than he deserved.

"I'm sorry, Bail," he apologized, his throat choked with grief. "You have a right to know the truth. But you must promise me you will tell no one, not ever."

Eyeing him warily, Bail agreed, "I promise."

"Swear it, by that which you hold most dear. You must tell no one."

Bail's expression softened. "I swear by my love for you."

Enraged, Obi-Wan screamed, "No! Such a promise is worse than useless! If you swear by me, I will know you cannot be trusted!"

Bail shrank back in shock, tears in his eyes. What had happened to Obi-Wan? Maybe he didn't want to hear this truth. But he loved the man; he had to hear it. "Then I swear by my daughter, Leia."

Leia, the spawn of that black soul! This was little better. But she was also Padme's child. She was still good, as yet untouched by her father's darkness. He would have preferred another vow, but he could accept this one.

Reluctantly, he drew a steadying breath. He pulled himself away from Bail, gathering his courage, then raised his eyes to Bail's. He owed it to the Prince not to flinch when he told him what he had done. "Did you ever wonder who Vader really is?"

Bail paused. "Of course. Everyone wonders, but no one has ever been able to find out anything about him. He just... appeared out of nowhere."

"He did not just appear." Force, the truth hurt. The words ripped out of his chest with razor sharp claws. "He was made." Another ragged, bloody breath. "By me."

Utter incomprehension. "I don't --"

/Don't make me say it./ "It is Anakin beneath that mask."

More confusion, and the briefest hint of denial. "Anakin? Anakin is dead."

"He did not die. He turned to the dark side. Worse, he was seduced by Palpatine. He forsook the Jedi to become a Sith."

"It...it can't be."

"But it is. *My* Padawan, *my* apprentice. He murdered the Jedi one by one, and I alone live to know that it was my pupil who killed my fellows."

Still Bail refused to believe. "It can't be Anakin. You must be mistaken. Someone else --"

"I am not mistaken!" Obi-Wan screamed. "I'm the one who put him in that armor!" The blackest despair washed over him, then, thick like oil, polluting his soul, clotting his lungs until he couldn't breathe, dark, viscous tears rising from his bowels to choke him, to sting his cheeks like acid, like drops of lava from that horrible pit where his beloved Anakin had fallen, fire catching in his hair, flames licking at his features as he sank into the burning lake, until nothing remained but his eyes hurling their accusation, /You did this, Master!/

Bail could feel the hot self-loathing consume Obi-Wan, and as much as he wanted to deny it, Obi-Wan's guilt convinced him of the truth. No wonder Vader had supervised his interrogation; Anakin knew perfectly well who Obi-Wan would have turned to. With a body-shaking sigh, Bail closed his eyes, remembering the tow-headed nine-year-old he had invited into his home, so eager to please, so lonely without his mother. The child's amazing piloting skills as he flew across the field on one of Bail's speeder bikes. The teenager who listened, rapt, as Bail taught him about art, sculpture, music. Those blue eyes darkening with disapproval whenever Bail kissed Obi-Wan in front of him. The hard edge in Anakin's voice when he accused the Senate of complacency. Occasional bursts of anger, of recrimination, of the desire to drive Bail out of Obi-Wan's life, to smash him into pieces like one of his antique vases. The cold accusation that surfaced more and more as the boy grew older: /You don't know what it's like to be a slave. You have had every privilege. You can never understand./ No, he had never understood, could scarcely understand now. Yet he believed. A fearful shiver shook him as he accepted the truth. "He always hated me," he whispered.

The quiet words sank through Obi-Wan's grief, rousing him. "I'm sorry, Bail," he begged. "I'm so sorry." He began to move, restless, climbing out of bed, searching blindly for his clothes. "I have to leave. I'm endangering you both. He'll know I'm here." Bail watched, still too numb to comprehend, as Obi-Wan groped around the room, looking terribly old and feeble. "I should never have come," Obi-Wan continued. "He'll know I've come. I have to leave. I have to go."

Obi-Wan found his desert robes and began to pull them on, still muttering desperately, and it at last penetrated Bail's brain that the Jedi really intended to leave. "No," he protested, rousing from his shock.

"I can't stay."

Bail rose from the bed. "I don't want you to leave."

"But he tortured you. He'll kill you! All because of me."

And Bail finally understood, realized all the grief Obi-Wan bore, why he blamed himself for the galaxy's state. It was his Padawan who had done it, his failure, his fault. What good was Bail's forgiveness if Obi-Wan could not forgive himself?

"Don't go, Ben, please." He caught Obi-Wan's arms, stopped him from dressing. Weeping, he begged, "Please stay. I need you. Don't leave me."

Obi-Wan's grief-filled eyes met his, wanting to pull away, but unable to resist this call to responsibility, this plea for help. Bail held his arms out, imploring, and Obi-Wan slowly drew him into his embrace, tentatively holding his trembling body.

"Don't leave me, Ben," Bail whispered against his neck. "I could not bear it if you did. You must stay."

And Obi-Wan, accustomed to a lifetime of service, obeyed.

Day Three

Bail woke early, from dark dreams filled with pain and grief. Remembering Obi-Wan's promise to leave, he jerked, turning to find Obi-Wan deep asleep next to him. His relief was so great he almost wept.

For a long time he lay there, watching Obi-Wan, remembering all that had happened the night before. Obi-Wan lay on his stomach, his face turned away from Bail, his back rising and falling in even breaths. He seemed so far away, so fragile and weak. A memory came back to Bail, words Obi-Wan had said last night: "I wish I had the courage to take my life." Suicide was a mortal sin for the Jedi. Was Obi-Wan so far gone that he would seriously contemplate such a drastic act? The thought was unbelievable, and yet after Obi-Wan's confession, Bail knew it was all too possible.

He could not allow that to happen. He could not allow Obi-Wan to be consumed by his own guilt. Bail had told Obi-Wan that he couldn't rearrange his schedule for him, but now he knew he must. Obi-Wan's crisis of faith must be his priority. In all honesty he could call it a crisis of galactic significance. His mind made up, Bail slipped quietly out of bed so as not to disturb his sleeping lover. He had arrangements to make.

Several hours later, Obi-Wan's still had not woken up on his own. He had always been an early riser like Bail, and Bail had never known the Jedi to sleep in so late -- much later than yesterday. It disturbed him to realize how deeply Obi-Wan's spiritual and physical exhaustion must run. He sat carefully on the side of the bed, gently brushing his fingers through Obi-Wan's hair, but still the Jedi did not wake up. Still stroking Obi-Wan's hair, Bail called, "Ben."

The name got him, as always. Obi-Wan's eyelids fluttered open, and his gaze took in Bail, then the late morning sun at the window, instantly alert. At least that had not changed. "What are you still doing here?" he asked.

"Waiting for you to wake up so that you, Leia and I can get going to Shadowcliff. At this rate we won't get there until after lunch."

Bail had a feeling this news would fail to please Obi-Wan, and he was not disappointed. "Shadowcliff?" Obi-Wan protested, sitting up. "We can't! You and Leia-- it will look suspicious."

"It is out of the ordinary, but I have been known to disappear abruptly, so it won't attract any particular notice."

Not surprisingly, Obi-Wan failed to be convinced, "But --"

"Hush," Bail chided, laying a finger to Obi-Wan's lips. "You don't have a choice. You need it, so we're going." He quirked a reproachful eyebrow. "Don't make me call in my guards to tie you up."

Bail stood up. "You're all packed already, and I even laid some clothes out for you, so hurry up and get dressed. It's late, so you'll have to forego breakfast, but I know how much you hate eating, so you won't miss it much."

Reluctantly Obi-Wan got out of bed. He dressed swiftly, and within a quarter of an hour they were packed up and loaded into the skyhopper, Leia bouncing on the back seat in her excitement to get to the Organa family's mountain retreat.

"Have you ever been to Shadowcliff?" she asked Obi-Wan eagerly.

"Yes, I have," he answered as Bail started the 'hopper and they took off. "But it's been a very long time."

Disappointed, Leia's brow furrowed in thought. "Since before I was born?" she asked.

"Long before you were born," he assured her. In truth he couldn't remember how long it had been.

This cheered Leia up, since she had made a number of significant improvements to Shadowcliff in her life in the form of piled rocks, pressed flowers, and collected beetle shells, interesting twigs, and other natural treasures. If Uncle Ben hadn't been to Shadowcliff in her lifetime, then it was just as if he'd never been there at all.

As they flew out of the city, Obi-Wan continue to fret. "Are you sure it's --," he stopped himself from saying "safe." He didn't want to alarm Leia.

Bail knew exactly what he meant. "Yes, it's perfectly safe. I've notified the caretakers, who are provisioning the house even as we speak, so we won't need to go to town for supplies, and no one will know you're there. And we hardly need bodyguards when we have a Jedi as our guest."

Leia sat forward so she could lean over the front seat. "Can we go fishing?"

"Yes, we *may*," Bail replied, answering her and correcting her grammar at the same time. He glanced proudly at Obi-Wan. "Leia is quite an accomplished angler."

"Do you know how to fish?" Leia asked her uncle.

"Yes," he hesitated. Not that he had much chance to on Tatooine. He probably hadn't fished since the last time he had been to Shadowcliff.

Leia picked up on his thoughts. "But not since I was born, right?"

"Right."

That would have to do. It irked Leia that her uncle already seemed to know everything. She wanted to show him *something* new. "Can you play the flute? I mean, *may* you play the flute?" she corrected herself.

Obi-Wan smiled as Bail stifled his laughter. "No, I *can't*."

Well, that was something, at least. She was glad she had brought her flute with her. Appeased, she turned to her father, "Can I -- may I - - can I drive now, Bobo?"

Bail laughed. "You *can* drive, but you *may* not."

"Awww...."

Obi-Wan shot Bail a surprised look. "She knows how to drive?"

"Of course she does."

Obi-Wan's skepticism hardly diminished. "Isn't she a little young?"

Bail scoffed, "Excuse me, but aren't you the one who brought his nine- year-old apprentice to my house and told me to let him pilot my most prized speeder bike? 'Don't worry,' you said. 'He's a podracer!'"

The reference to Anakin hit Obi-Wan like a slap in the face, but he was determined to echo Bail's nonchalance, pointing out, "He didn't so much as scratch the paint, did he?"

"Well, if it's good enough for your Padawan, it's good enough for my daughter. She's been driving since she was eight." Sensing Leia's impending objection, Bail warned, "But you still may not drive today, Leelee. We want to get there as soon as possible."

Leia pouted, "You've never let me fly your speeder bike."

Bail cleared his throat, uncomfortable. Proud as he was of his daughter's accomplishments, he nevertheless could still be the protective father. "When you are twelve," he said flatly, picking an arbitrary age that was far enough in the future not to leave room for any begging. "Talented you may be, but you're not a podracer, Leelee."

"What is a podracer?" Leia asked. Surely if some nine-year-old could do it, she could, too.

Glaring at Obi-Wan, Bail deferred, "I'll let you field that one, Uncle Ben, and don't forget all the gory bits."

Thus put on the spot, Obi-Wan obliged, dredging his memory for stories and statistics that Anakin used to plague him with, striving to relay them with some of his Padawan's old enthusiasm. Surprisingly it was nice to talk about Anakin, albeit in a round- about way. Then again, that was probably the only way Obi-Wan could talk about him. The subject had been so painful for so long, Obi-Wan was pleased that memories of the boy he once loved had not been completely subsumed by the man he had become.

The conversation about podracing somehow came around to thrantas, and from there followed a meandering path through a number of different subjects. The trip passed pleasantly, and before they realized it they were in the mountains, winding through passes and finally arriving at Shadowcliff in the early afternoon. The house was wedged high up in the mountains, a good thirty kilometers from the nearest town, and surrounded by plenty of wilderness to be explored. A small but lively stream cascaded down the mountain, passing next to the house. The air was clean and sharp and smelled of pine.

Leia leaped out of the 'hopper as soon as it stopped and ran to the stream to pay it ritual homage. Her duty accomplished, she raced back to Obi-Wan and grabbed his hand, pulling him up the pathway to the house, happily pointing out the sights along the way, a particular tree she had climbed, a rock she had found, a burrow in which a ground squirrel had once lived. Once in the house, she dragged him from room to room, giving the grand tour, including a detailed history of all her many adventures at Shadowcliff over the last decade.

Obi-Wan was reassured to discover that the house had changed little since he had last been there. The scores of family pictures that lined the walls had been updated, the odd piece of furniture or rug replaced, the array of books, games, and knick-knacks had been added to, but in essentials it was the same, and Obi-Wan had to struggle to hold back a sudden flow of tears. Finally here was one place he knew from the old days that had not changed. The sounds and sights and scents were all familiar. He could almost imagine he had traveled back to a time when he had been happy, when there was a Republic, when the Temple still stood on Coruscant, and Anakin was still a bright-eyed child. And even farther back, when Obi-Wan was still a Padawan himself, the first time he had visited Shadowcliff while on a brief vacation to Alderaan, when he and Bail had been lovers for only a year. He could imagine that when he left Shadowcliff he would return to Qui-Gon at the Temple on Coruscant, waiting for him with their next assignment.

He knew it wasn't true. None of those people or places existed anymore, at least not as he had known them. But for now he wanted to pretend.

They had a late lunch, then went for a walk along the stream, Leia keeping a sharp watch for the best places to dig up worms for fishing. As evening fell, the air grew chilly, and they returned to the house to build a fire in the fireplace. They spent the evening much as they had the previous one, playing games and enjoying one another's company. The excitement of arriving at Shadowcliff, not to mention the fresh mountain air and high altitude, proved to be too much for Leia, who drowsed off to sleep long before her usual appointed bedtime. Bail gathered her gently into his arms and carried her off to her bedroom.

When he returned from tucking her into bed, Bail found Obi-Wan standing in the darkened living room, staring out into the night sky, a shadow against the stars. The sight chilled him, and he pressed up behind Obi-Wan, his arms sliding tightly across the Jedi's chest as if he would keep him from flying away into the night. Obi-Wan said nothing, passively accepting the embrace, and again Bail was struck by how much Obi-Wan had changed. He sighed, pressing his forehead to the back of Obi-Wan's head. "It is as if you're not even here."

Obi-Wan recognized Bail's grief, but he literally had nothing left to offer, not even himself. "I assure you, insofar as I am anywhere, I am here."

But his words only made Bail hold on tighter. "All day long I've watched you with Leia, talking to her, playing with her, laughing. To all appearances you're fully present, yet there is no light in your eyes. You are a ghost."

What could Obi-Wan say? It was true. "But you are not a ghost." He leaned his head back against Bail's shoulder, sinking into his embrace. "You are flesh and blood. You are warm, you breathe, you have a pulse."

Bail raised a hand to stroke Obi-Wan's hair. "Then let me love you tonight. Let me warm you."

Bail's tenderness only roused a fresh wave of despair in Obi-Wan. He didn't even know what it was he was afraid of, and he was too tired to care anymore. "I can't," he breathed. "I just can't. I'm sorry."

He could feel Bail trembling against him, struggling to hold back his emotion. He bowed his face into Obi-Wan's neck, and when he spoke, his lips brushed against Obi-Wan's skin, his voice shaking with quiet rage. "You believe you don't deserve it." He almost hated Obi-Wan in that moment, almost wished he had never come at all. He needed Obi-Wan so desperately. They had so little time, and yet Obi-Wan kept closing himself off. Even now, holding the Jedi, Bail could barely even feel him. "How long are you going to punish yourself?"

"I'm well beyond punishing myself," Obi-Wan answered quietly. Bail's arms tightened further around him, and Obi-Wan felt tears against his neck.

"You selfish bastard," Bail quietly accused, his voice taut with anguish. "Why did you come here at all?"

Obi-Wan wished desperately he could make it better, but he knew he couldn't. "I came because I could no longer stay away. I *am* selfish."

Bail wept openly now, and all Obi-Wan could do was let him. All he could do was stand there and be washed by his lover's tears. Such a waste of water. Obi-Wan had given up the practice long ago, had learned how to cry tears of pure salt, crystals that hardened on his cheeks, curing his skin like leather, toughening him. Obi-Wan had learned well how to do without -- without water, without greenery, without joy, without companionship, without purpose. He had learned how to survive. Well, not learned exactly. Rather he found that even when the worst had been done, even when you have lost everything, you still endure, whether you want to or not.

"Where I live," he offered, "I don't have much to do except think. Sometimes I look back on my life and ask what I have to show for it. My master murdered, my padawan fallen, the Jedi dead, and a galaxy in chaos. I can't say I've accomplished much of value. I have gained no wisdom or insight. But I'm still alive.

"They say where there is life there is hope. I've come to believe hope is just another word for breathing. But perhaps that's something after all. So the task will fall to me to teach these children not because I am wiser or stronger or better than anyone else. Force knows, I'm not. But it will fall to me because, quite simply, I'm the only one left." He sighed, looking out at the stars. "I find some comfort in the knowledge that even I am better than nothing."

Bail had ceased crying and listened. For a long time he remained silent, contemplating what Obi-Wan had said. At last he answered, "That's it, then? The collected wisdom of a lifetime: we go on because our hearts keep beating, and there is no justice."

"No, there is no justice," Obi-Wan gently replied. "But we still have to choose sides."

Another long silence. Force, Bail sighed, he had lived his entire life in service to others, they both had, and what the hell had it gained them? Everything they had once believed in was gone. They had sacrificed their own wants and needs for a greater purpose that no longer existed. What did they owe the universe any more? But it was too late for them, too late for anything but a private change of heart. "Then I choose your side."

Something twitched inside Obi-Wan, something stirred and fought to open its eyes. He didn't want it to, would prefer for it to remain in hibernation. It would hurt too much to have it live again, and yet he had come here, hadn't he? He loved Bail, didn't he? Didn't deserve him, no, hadn't earned this. He knew it couldn't be, couldn't last. It would wake only to die again, but for just one moment couldn't Bail love him? Couldn't he just hold him? Surely Obi-Wan could allow himself that one, small comfort.

His breath hitched in his chest, and Bail could feel the struggle within him. "Tell me what you want, Ben," he begged. "Kiss you, fuck you, leave you alone. Whenever you ask, I'll do it."

Obi-Wan turned in Bail's arms, leaning into him. "Just tell me that story again, the one where we live happily ever after."

"Ah. Fairy tales," Bail answered, with a trace of bitterness. "I'm good at that. Come on, then." He took Obi-Wan's hand and led him into the shadows of their bedroom. "Now, how does it start? Ah, yes, I remember." His voice drifted into the sing-song of storytelling. "In a time that always was, and never will be, you and I will move to Ithor, to live in the sacred forest. I will take up law, and you will teach martial arts."

"No," Obi-Wan corrected as they settled onto the bed. "I want to garden."

"Garden?" Bail repeated, as he cradled Obi-Wan in his arms, the way he held his daughter, rocking him. "That's new. All right, we'll live on a small farm, and you will grow flowers and vegetables and whatever else tickles your fancy."

"And Leia can raised thrantas."

"Now you're on her side? Very well. If we're living on a farm, I suppose we might as well build a pen for thrantas." He paused, considering. "If neither of you are going to do any honest work, then I won't either. Instead, I believe I'll write. Bad novels, and even worse poetry. We'll live in a two-story house, and we'll brew our own beer, and go on picnics every day, and -- does Ithor have a sea?"

"It has several, in fact."

"Then we'll live on a lake, with a river that flows to the sea, and every summer we'll sail around the world." He stared down into Obi- Wan's eyes, brushing the hair off his forehead. "And the best of it is that no one will ever bother us, and we will bother no one, until the end of our days. And we will live happily ever after."

Obi-Wan gazed up at Bail, and the Prince at last could see a faint spark in his eyes. "Promise me we'll do it," Obi-Wan begged.

It grieved Bail to make a promise he would never keep, but if all he could do was lie to please Obi-Wan, then it was a small sacrifice to make. "I promise," he assured his love. "I swear it, by all I hold dear."

/I swear it,/ he thought, /by you./

Day Four

This time when Bail woke up, he was alone. Momentary panic seized him as he remembered Obi-Wan's despair from the night before. Had he gone after all? Had he left them alone? Had he found it easier to just slip away into oblivion without saying goodbye?

Hastily throwing on a robe, Bail stumbled out of the bedroom, still not fully awake, still anxious. Voices. He could hear voices, coming from somewhere in the house. Two of them. He took a deep, steadying breath and followed them.

They were in the kitchen, cooking, and for a moment they did not notice him. Leia and Obi-Wan huddled over the stove, Leia standing on a chair pouring a ladle of batter carefully into a skillet.

"You're very good at this," Obi-Wan was commenting.

"It took us years to perfect the recipe," Leia answered sagely. "We tried putting berries in the batter once, but it came out all mushy."

Obi-Wan chuckled softly. "He's always experimenting, isn't he?"

Leia agreed, "They don't always turn out so good."

"I know," Obi-Wan replied, and the two of the dissolved into giggles. Bail didn't think he had ever encountered a more heartwarming scene than this: his daughter and his lover conspiring to make fun of him.

"Sometimes my experiments work," he announced, "and I notice neither of you complain then."

The two of them turned, and Leia leaped off the chair, the ladle dripping batter onto the floor as she ran to her father. "Good morning, Papa!" she greeted him with a one-armed hug. "We're making flatcakes."

"I see that."

"I let Uncle Ben help."

Bail's dark eyes met Obi-Wan's blue ones. "Very generous of you."

Obi-Wan smiled, and the sight took Bail's breath away. It might be an illusion, a mirage of happiness, but Bail was willing to be deceived. Then the Jedi glanced at Leia. "I think some of these cakes are ready to be turned. Do you want me to do it?"

"No, I will!" Leia hastily asserted, scrambling back up on the chair.

Bail seated himself at the kitchen table, more than content to watch the two of them finish preparing breakfast. He could scarcely reconcile this sweet, domestic scene with the darkness he knew weighed Obi-Wan down so heavily. It indeed seemed like a lie, this picture of a contented Obi-Wan, yet he realized it was not. This was exactly what Obi-Wan had been telling him last night: we move on, because no matter how much we might desire it, the truth is we cannot die of a broken heart. It didn't seem right, it wasn't fair, but such was life. He had wanted so much to fix things for Obi-Wan, to fix things for himself, but it could never happen. Obi-Wan would still blame himself, and he would leave, and Bail once more would sleep alone, as he had for the past ten years. Dammit, it wasn't fair at all, but for now at least all three of them were together. They should not poison this moment by resenting what could never be.

At last the cakes were finished and the table hastily set, but before Obi-Wan and Leia could sit down, Bail got to his feet and caught Obi- Wan in a tight embrace. "I love you. You know that, don't you?"

Obi-Wan melted gratefully into the Prince's arms, and for a moment he could not speak. At last he managed to say, "Yes."

Bail pulled back enough to look deeply into Obi-Wan's eyes. "You really know it?" he demanded.

Obi-Wan nodded helplessly. "Yes. I count on it."

Bail pulled Obi-Wan to him once more, kissing him fiercely. After a moment he felt a tug on his robe. "Papa?"

Leia. Anakin had always been jealous whenever Bail and Obi-Wan kissed in front of him. What would Leia think of this display?

"Papa? What about me?" Leia asked as Bail reluctantly broke off the kiss.

"Oh, Leelee, I love you, too."

"No," she protested, holding her arms up to Obi-Wan. "I mean I love Uncle Ben, too."

Obi-Wan laughed and caught her up in his arms. She gave him a wet kiss as she was sandwiched between the two men. They stood laughing, arms around each other, foreheads touching. Yes, there was suffering, there was grief, there might even be guilt. But for now at least, the three of them were together, and in this moment, life was good.

The order of the day, at Leia's insistence, was fishing. She had woken at dawn to dig up a pailful of worms, and as soon as they had finished breakfast, she arranged the expedition with an efficiency that Obi-Wan, as a former General, could greatly appreciate, handing out equipment and assigning everyone a specific spot on the stream.

At first she stayed near Obi-Wan, not entirely certain that he could be trusted to carry out his fishing duties. She insisted on showing him the proper way to bait his hook, how to cast the line and how to fool the fish by remaining hidden among the bushes. Obi-Wan endured the lessons with good humor. After all, it had been a very long time since he had gone fishing, and Leia proved to be quite good at it. She remained with him until he caught his first fish. Convinced that he could now handle his duties, she left him on his own to scout out her own section of river.

But Leia's disappearance prompted the arrival of another visitor. As much as Bail enjoyed fishing, he was not about to spend time sitting alone on a riverbank when he could be with Obi-Wan. He had been keeping close watch on his daughter, and when she left, he appeared at Obi-Wan's side. They curled up together in their patch of bushes, fishing poles anchored into the branches, while they talked quietly, secretly, about a whole host of completely insignificant topics. They were not, however, completely negligent of their fishing responsibility, and by the time Leia returned around noon to check on their progress, they had a few fish to show for themselves, though nowhere near the number Leia had caught.

Frowning her disapproval, Leia rebuked, "Papa, you weren't supposed to be here with Uncle Ben. You would have caught a lot more fish if you'd stayed where I put you."

"I know, dear, but you're such a good fisher that I knew you'd catch enough for all of us, and I didn't want Ben to be lonely."

Somehow Leia didn't feel she could argue with that, however much she might like to. "We can always fish again tomorrow," she reluctantly conceded.

While Obi-Wan struggled not to smile, Bail suggested, "I believe you can handle the fishing yourself, Leelee. Your Uncle Ben and I are getting too old to sit all day on damp riverbanks. Rheumatism, you know."

"What's rheumatism?" Leia asked skeptically.

"Old people's disease."

"You're not old, Papa!" Leia chided with an indignant stamp of her foot.

"Old enough, dearest," he sighed, getting to his feet and making a show of cracking his joints. "Now, why don't you and Uncle Ben clean those fish, while I go back to the house and take care of some business?"

"But we're on vacation!" Leia protested.

"The viceroy can never completely be on vacation," Bail pointed out.

Leia refused to be mollified. "You're just saying that because you hate cleaning fish."

Obi-Wan grinned knowingly at Leia, and Bail cleared his throat in embarrassment. "Be that as it may, I do have work to do, and seeing as how Uncle Ben shares your fascination with gutting things, I don't see why either of you should protest."

"Go on, you wimp," Obi-Wan chided, taking a playful swipe at Bail. "We'll take care of the fish."

With this dubious blessing, Bail took his leave of them. Leia and Obi-Wan gathered up the fish and their equipment and headed to a suitable spot on the stream to clean their catch.

As they settled down to their work, Leia asked, "Where do you live?"

"I really can't tell you," Obi-Wan demurred, hoping she would be satisfied.

Leia had dealt with enough mysterious visitors to know not to pursue questions that should not be answered. "Are there mountains where you live?"

"Yes, but not like these."

"Are there rivers?"

"No, I live in a desert."

This intrigued the girl. "A desert? You mean, where it's really hot and there's lots of sand?"

Obi-Wan laughed. "Lots of heat and lots of sand."

Leia remained silent for a moment while she concentrated on the task of sawing one of the fish's head off with her knife. When she finished, she looked up at Obi-Wan. "Do you have a bondmate?"

Her question surprised him. "No," he stammered.

"Why not?" Brown eyes studied him, almost accusatory.

Obi-Wan was momentarily confused. Didn't she know? "Because I -- I love your father."

"Then why didn't you ever bond with him?"

A fierce wave of anger surged through Obi-Wan, and he wasn't sure what surprised him more: the fact that a ten-year-old could goad such intense feelings from him, or the fact that he felt powerless to control his emotion. "I couldn't bond with him," he protested, biting off the words as he struggled against his resentment, at Leia, at fate.

"If you really loved him," Leia protested, "then you would have bonded with him."

How dare she accuse him? A mere child? "There were circumstances you can't possibly understand," he shot back.

Leia hated being told she was too young to understand. "What circumstances? I think maybe you don't love him at all. I was thinking about it while I was fishing. You didn't say you loved him this morning."

For one wild moment Obi-Wan was reminded of Bail's old rule against saying "I love you" back when someone said it to you first. That wasn't why he hadn't said it, and it infuriated him to think he should answer to a child.

Leia grabbed another fish and sawed away at its head. "Papa is sad because of you. He says you loved somebody else."

What? She might as well have physically struck him. He felt deeply betrayed, not by her but by Bail. How could he possibly still believe that, after all these years? How could Bail still be jealous of Qui-Gon? "No!" Obi-Wan growled, grabbing Leia's arms and shaking her. "I love your father! I always have!" But that wasn't exactly true, was it? He had not loved Bail, not in the beginning. But he had grown to love him, long ago. His love was real, how could anyone doubt it? Obi-Wan was guilty of many, many things, but not loving Bail was not one of them. To be so accused now wounded him to the core of his being, robbing him of the one good, pure thing that was left to him. Hadn't he risked his life to come here, just to see Bail? Why would anyone seek to take this from him?

His hands gripped tighter, and he became aware that Leia was crying. He stared at her in shock. Gone was the accusing woman-child. She was crying, frightened.

Of him.

Obi-Wan released her, horrified and ashamed. Force, what had he become, terrorizing a child, Bail's daughter? "I'm sorry," he whispered, falling backward, away from her. "I'm so sorry." He trembled, shaking so violently he could no longer stand. He sank to his knees, covering his face with his hands.

Leia stood next to him, crying and sniffling, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. Why didn't she run away from him? he wondered. How could she stand to be near him? Hopelessly Obi-Wan dissolved into tears, shaken, disturbed, heart-sick, and so, so very weary.

For a long time he wept, vaguely conscious of Leia's presence, aware that he must still be frightening her. After all, children do not like to see adults break down in front of them, but he couldn't stop, no matter how hard he tried. Surely he had cried enough over the past few days, but his grief apparently felt otherwise. Where was his vaunted Jedi self-control? Gone, it seemed, along with the rest of the Jedi. And without the Order, what was he? Just a lonely, broken old man, a wreck of a human being who frightened children.

His weeping gradually eased on its own. That was another thing he had learned over the past decade, that the body can only sustain severe emotion for short periods of time. As he calmed down, he became aware of Leia crouching on the ground next to him, studying him with large, soulful eyes. When she saw him look at her with some degree of consciousness, she said, "I didn't mean to make you cry."

Obi-Wan shook his head, hastily wiping the last of his tears away. "It's all right. You have every right to be protective of your father."

She did not answer, merely tilted her head to one side, staring up at him with anxious curiosity, as if he were some strange new animal she feared might bite.

"I do love your father," Obi-Wan offer gently. "I wish I could have bonded with him. But I'm wanted by the Empire. There is no way I could live here with you, however much I want to."

Leia nodded sadly. Young as she was, she understood the constraints which the Empire placed on many lives. "If you could, you would bond with him?"

"There is nothing I want more," Obi-Wan assured her with a sad smile.

Without warning she flung her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. Startled, Obi-Wan held on to her small body. Such innocent generosity, even he, cynic that he was, could not refuse it. Desperately he whispered, "Do you forgive me?"

"Yes," she replied, her voice muffled against his shoulder.

Her words touched him like a blessing. If this child could forgive him, perhaps he could find absolution after all, for in the end the only way any of them would ever be able to move forward would be to forgive. He closed his eyes, cradling this miracle of love in his arms, Anakin's child, Bail's daughter, and for the first time in years felt his weary soul draw breath.

Having been restored to each other's good favor, they finished their chores, then Obi-Wan sent Leia back to the house with their catch while he went for a walk up the mountain. He wasn't ready to face Bail yet, still shaken by the emotional storm and shamed by the way he had vented his anguish on Leia. Besides, he was disoriented by something he thought he would never feel again.

Grace.

What a humbling, powerful, overwhelming gift.

He climbed up the side of the mountain, following the stream, the old, familiar path like a walk into his past, the trees thick around him, the stream bubbling musically in his ear, the loamy smell of the soft earth released by his footsteps. Up he climbed until he reached a meadow, where the stream spread out into a placid pond, ringed by towering mountains. He seated himself in the tall grass, leaning back on his hands, and allowed the memories to flow over him. He had swum in this pond with Bail. They had sunned themselves on that rock. Here on this very spot they had spread out their clothes and made love beneath the open sky, on the roof of the world.

And over there, nine-year-old Anakin had waded in the shallows, delighting in the silty mud squishing between his toes. Obi-Wan could see him, trousers rolled up above his knees, his feet sinking into the mud. The brilliant sun glinted off his golden hair, his blue eyes wide and sparkling with the joy of a new experience, shirtless, his bare, pale chest warmed in the sun. He futilely pulled up his pants legs as he sank further into the mud. "Where are the fish, Obi-Wan? I want to see them!"

"They're hiding from you," Obi-Wan explained. "You're splashing around too much."

Anakin waded further out into the pond, sinking deeper with each step, now almost up to his waist in the water. He threw a panicked look back at Obi-Wan, not wanting to call out to him, not wanting to admit his alarm at how deep he was sinking.

Laughing, Obi-Wan jumped into the water. He seized Anakin around his thin waist and hoisted him high into the air, the boy's feet pulling out of the mud with a slurp. He spun around with Anakin in his arms until he was dizzy, falling into the pond with a splash. Anakin squealed, clinging to Obi-Wan's neck, unnerved by the water but determined to show how brave he was.

Bail waded out into the pond to join them, and they chased each other, laughing, splashing, diving, churning up the silt until the pond turned black. Then they scampered up onto the flat rock in the middle of the pond, the sun warming them as the water evaporated off their skin.

"Where does the water come from, Master?"

Obi-Wan pointed to the mountains above them. "Those white patches are snow that fell during the winter. As the snow melts, it flows down the mountains in streams."

"This water came from snow?" Anakin asked, fascinated by the concept. When Obi-Wan nodded, Anakin said, "I want to see some snow!"

"You will, Anakin," Obi-Wan assured him. "You will see a great many wonderful things."

The boy's face lit in a smile, a child of the sun, and he snuggled up against Obi-Wan's bare chest, happy and content.

The memory faded, and Obi-Wan returned to the present, staring high up into the sky, arms wrapped around himself. "Oh, Anakin, how I have wronged you above all people. I'm so sorry."

But Anakin could not hear him. Anakin was dead, as surely as Qui-Gon and all the rest of the Jedi, and the time for mourning was long past.

Now another child waited for him -- two children. He had failed their father, but he had been given two more chances to redeem himself. Leia had already forgiven him. It didn't matter that she didn't understand why he needed it. And Luke... Luke was waiting for him on Tatooine, a son of the suns like his father. Even now, at this distance, Obi-Wan could feel the boy pulsing through the Force, perhaps even stronger than his father. Perhaps Qui-Gon had not been so wrong after all. Perhaps it was this boy who was the chosen one. Perhaps he and his sister would yet save them all. Perhaps, just perhaps Obi-Wan could hope for more from the future than mere breathing.

For he had a new reason to keep up the fight, one he should have thought of before, but then, he might not have been ready. When Palpatine and Vader were defeated and the Republic restored, he would truly be free, with no Jedi Order to answer to. He would be free for the first time in his life to choose for himself. He didn't even have to think about what he would do with that freedom.

He was going to choose Bail.

Back at the cabin, Leia sat at the table working a puzzle while Bail continued to pore over his computer, trying to get as much work done as he could during Obi-Wan's absence. It bothered him that Obi-Wan had not returned with Leia. Bail was becoming increasingly aware of how little time they had left together, but he knew he could not impose his own schedule on the Jedi. All he could do was wait. It was not easy, but Obi-Wan was more than worth waiting for, no matter how long it took.

Finally, a couple of hours after Leia had returned, the door opened, and Obi-Wan walked in. Bail looked up at his entrance, utterly unable to keep his emotion off his face. "You're back!" he exclaimed with transparent joy. "I missed you!"

Obi-Wan smiled sweetly as he settled next to Bail on the couch. "I missed you, too."

Exquisite tenderness rolled through Bail with such force it hurt. He wanted to throw himself into Obi-Wan's arms, but he held back, less because of an act of will, then because he was too overcome to move. He had loved Obi-Wan for a long time, and they had been through much together over the years, but somehow in these past few days Bail's soul had become irrevocably bound to Obi-Wan's, as if his heart could not beat without the Jedi's, his lungs could not draw breath unless Obi-Wan did as well. He used to fear commitment, resisting the idea of binding yourself to another person for all time. Family was different, of course. You did not choose your family; they were thrust upon you. In a sense, he had never chosen Leia, either. Family was almost more about resignation than anything else. To voluntarily choose a person on whom to bestow all the privilege and obligation of family, on the other hand, had always struck Bail as folly, a highly questionable and untrustworthy risk. Yet now he realized what a fool he had been. Obi-Wan owned his heart completely, and it didn't matter that Bail could not remember when he had given it away. Perhaps in the end he had not chosen Obi-Wan, either. There was something almost inevitable about the two of them, and not only did Bail not find it frightening, it turned out to be the one thing in the galaxy he could fully trust.

Obi-Wan's eyes flickered briefly to Leia, who sat at her place at the table, watching the two of them intently. Something unspoken passed between them, and then Obi-Wan's attention returned to Bail. "You asked me this morning if I knew that you loved me," he began. "Now I ask the same of you. I have never loved anyone but you, Bail. Once I thought I did, but I had no idea what love really was until I learned it from you." He paused, eyes searching Bail's, dark with the need to resolve this issue between them once and for all. "Do you believe that?"

Bail knew exactly what Obi-Wan meant. Qui-Gon. That jealousy was as much a part of his feelings for Obi-Wan as was love. Indeed, he did not know how to separate the two, yet somehow he now found that his jealousy had vanished. "I do believe it," Bail assured him with total honesty, and he could actually see the effect his words had on Obi-Wan, infusing his haggard face with new life.

The Jedi glanced again at Leia. "Your daughter has promised to restore the Republic. When she does, I'll be able to come live with you."

Bail's breath caught in his chest. "Will you, really?

Obi-Wan only nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

It seemed too good to be true. "But what about --," Bail hesitated, suddenly aware that Leia remained ignorant of her heritage. "You have to train those children," he pointed out.

Obi-Wan shook his head, smiling. "Don't worry. The future Jedi Temple will be on Alderaan."

Oh, it was too good, too good indeed to bear. Happiness melted and spread through Bail like golden fire. "Not Ithor?" he teased.

"Let me put it this way: it will be wherever you are."

Bail laughed in delight. What would the old Council have said about that? he wondered. But he didn't care. This time would be for him and Obi-Wan, and the Force knew well that they had earned it. He folded his arms around Obi-Wan, burying himself in his kiss. There were no barriers between them now, no secrets, no recriminations, no private guilt. Obi-Wan was his Jedi, and he was Obi-Wan's Prince. All was as it should be.

Their kiss deepened, intensified, as Bail pressed against Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan wanted to surrender himself completely, for it had been far too long, but something nagged at the edge of his consciousness, something very familiar...and curious. He broke off the kiss, twisting his mouth to Bail's ear before Bail could protest, and whispered softly, "We have an audience."

Bail froze, entirely unwilling to turn away. For the first time in ten years he regretted fatherhood. He pressed a quick kiss to Obi- Wan's lips, then turned his head toward his daughter, who was watching them with rapt attention. Too rapt. How embarrassing. "Leelee," he began, but he got no farther, even if he had known what to say, because Leia took this as her cue to propel herself from her chair and wedge herself into the very narrow space between the two of them, wrapping her arms around their necks. No condemnation or jealousy as there had been with Anakin. It was patently clear that Leia approved with all her heart, even seemed to view herself as having a rightful place in their love. And so she did. Their more physical reunion would just have to wait.

But when at last it came, after a day spent in happy celebration and simple joy, it was all that the phrase "making love" implied. They took their time, discovering the changes that ten years had wrought on each other's bodies, known more intimately than their own. Laughter and silence, ease and abandon, tenderness and passion, urgency and a sense that they had all the time in the world. *Live in the moment.* Such had been Qui-Gon's mantra. This moment was sacred, and it would last for all eternity.

Day Five

One day remained.

The magic grace of the previous night paled with the dawn. They woke together, wrapped in each other's arms, and they revelled in the luxury of being able to make love in the morning, but the pure joy of yesterday was tainted with the bittersweet tang of tomorrow. Eternity, it turned out, had a deadline.

But that deadline had not yet arrived.

Leia demonstrated remarkable restraint, allowing her two fathers to emerge at their own pace. When they finally did surface, they found the kitchen a mess, their breakfast grown cold, and an impatient Leia outside fishing again.

More dawdling over breakfast, feeding each other between kisses. Who could have imagined that dining could become a contact sport? They behaved more like infatuated teenagers than responsible, mature adults. But then they had both been responsible and mature in their younger years. Maybe now was the time for them to be infatuated.

By the time they finished breakfast, it was almost time for lunch. Leia came in with more fish, which they wasted no time in frying up and devouring. Afterwards they went out for a hike into the wilderness behind the cabin, swapping stories about the adventures each of them had had on Shadowcliff's mountain: unexpected afternoon thunderstorms, encounters with animals, discoveries of new plants. Of course, a child would tell the best stories. Leia described in breathless detail her expeditions of discovery and adventure, wrestling with hostile tree lions, surviving blizzards and avalanches, encountering entire previously unknown civilizations of wood sprites and miniature thrantas (Obi-Wan knew they were going to turn up at some point), and finally describing a classic childhood battle of Jedi versus Sith.

"Right here!" Leia indicated, clambering up onto a boulder. "I was surrounded by a hundred Sith Lords! They were gonna assassinate Papa and take over Alderaan, but I found 'em first. I lit up my lightsaber and ran at 'em!" She jumped back to the ground, snatched up a long stick and proceeded to attack a nearby tree, smacking the trunk with a satisfying *thwack.* "And I chopped his head off, and then this one came at me, and I chopped off his arms!" she shouted, hacking the dry, dead limbs off another tree. "And I stabbed another one in his tummy, and he went, 'Aaaargh!'" Clutching her stomach, she staggered around dramatically, tongue lolling out of her mouth.

As she continued with her epic battle, Bail watched in amusement, but Obi-Wan found it disturbing. After all, he had actually fought with two Sith Lords. He knew children liked to play these games, but it was too much like his own experience for him to find anything entertaining about it. Then, of course, there was the fact that one of the Sith Lords he had fought was Leia's own father. There was something sinister about watching this child's Jedi battle, like a dark premonition. It unnerved him so completely that he spoke without thought. "Actually, when you stab a Sith Lord in the tummy, he does not go, 'Aaaargh.'"

Leia halted in her recital, and Bail looked warily up at him. Eagerly, Leia asked, "Did you ever fight a Sith Lord?"

Obi-Wan froze, unable to answer, and Bail quietly admonished, "Leia."

Normally that particular tone was enough to stop her in her tracks, but she was too caught up in her own story, too intrigued to learn that someone she knew might have actually lived it. She had only ever heard of one Sith Lord. "Did you fight with Lord Va--?"

"Leia!" Bail snapped, and she recoiled at his harsh tone, staring up at her father on the verge of tears, uncertain about what she had done wrong. More gently, Bail explained, "That is not an acceptable topic of conversation." He held his hand out to her, and Leia nodded wordlessly, rushing to his side and wrapping her arms reassuringly around his waist as she looked up at Obi-Wan.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, tears still threatening.

Struggling to control the wild pounding of his heart, Obi-Wan said, "It's all right."

His forgiveness made her feel somewhat better, but she was still curious. All of this was too intriguing. Later, much later, she was going to ask her father about it.

For now, however, the subject was closed. "There's a meadow not too far from here," Bail suggested, "and it's just about the right time of year for ivy berries. Shall we see if we can find some?"

There was nothing like a new idea to distract a child, and Leia happily cheered, running on ahead toward the meadow.

Taking Obi-Wan's arm in his, Bail offered, "I'm sorry."

"There's no need to apologize. She obviously did not know, and naturally she would be curious. Besides," he managed a smile that wasn't too shaky, "I seem to recall your mother once showing me a dent in a table leg that had been inflicted during one of your own Jedi battles."

Bail laughed. "Yes. There's more than one table in my own house bearing similar injuries."

"Were they inflicted by you or Leia?" Obi-Wan teased, and Bail wagged his finger in rebuke.

It was enough. The darkness of the moment had been banished, and they could enjoy themselves once more. They arrived at the meadow and found Leia had already discovered the berries, so ripe they burst in her fingers, staining them purple. The three of them scrounged through the ivy, savoring their finds until all of them bore purple stains on their hands and mouths -- and to Leia's delight, even Obi- Wan's beard.

When they had eaten their fill, the three of them lay together in the grass in a huddle, Obi-Wan's head on Bail stomach, Leia's head on Obi- Wan's. They laughed and giggled, causing their heads to bobble and bounce, which in turn evoked more laughter. Eventually they calmed down, staring up at the clouds blowing slowly across the sky.

Leia rolled over on her side, snuggling up to Obi-Wan, and said, "Tell me a story. I'm sure you know a lot of stories."

"All right," Obi-Wan agreed. "But this is not a story about a Jedi." Leia's face fell slightly, but before she could protest, Obi- Wan continued, "It is about a young girl, not much older than you, who became the leader of her people. Not long after she began her rule, invaders came and threatened to take over her world. They took the people from their homes and put them in camps, and it seemed there was nothing they could do. No one would help them. Everyone told her she would have to surrender to the invaders, but she was determined not to give up. She met with her people's age-old enemies and convinced them to join forces for the first time in their history to fight the invaders. She conceived of a plan to capture the leaders, and she led her people to victory. They kicked the invaders off their world, and the two peoples were free to live in peace together as friends."

Leia listened with rapt attention, and Bail, who knew the story well, felt a flare of old grief for its heroine. Obi-Wan stroked Leia's hair. "She was a courageous, wise, and noble leader. She was not a Jedi, but she had the heart of one." He paused, his thumb brushing Leia's forehead as for a moment he sank into the memory of dear friends long gone. "You remind me of her," he whispered.

Leia smiled, and in a flash of insight Bail remembered another smile, one that appeared so rarely on the somber face of the young Queen and later Senator of Naboo. An identical smile, in a face that was suddenly, achingly familiar. He stared at Leia with newly opened eyes. How had he not seen it before? His child was Padme's daughter, Padme and ....

Pure, blind panic seized him as all the pieces clicked inexorably together, and he sat up, disturbing their comfortable little huddle. Obi-Wan rose and looked at him with eyes that begged once more for understanding, and all Bail could do was stare back. All he could think of was the danger to his child if Vader knew what Bail had taken from him. Force, what had Obi-Wan done, exposing Leia to such peril?

And just as abruptly it dawned on Bail: Vader did not know. Did not know Leia was his daughter, did not know he had a child at all. The Dark Lord hated Bail enough that he avoided him. Indeed, they had only met that one time. He did not know, had no reason to suspect, because what could be more absurd than hiding Vader's child in plain sight?

But Leia was not Vader's child, not really. She was Bail's. Oh, the unbearable irony of it all, that Anakin should have his daughter raised by the man he hated so much. What in all the hells had Obi- Wan been thinking?

Yet there was something beautiful about it, too, something redemptive, because when he had been very young, Anakin had thrived among the Organas. Bail's own mother had become a surrogate to Anakin, and Bail and the boy like brothers, constantly tormenting Obi- Wan with their mischief. Anakin had loved Bail once, and Bail had missed it when it was gone, had hoped that perhaps it had never completely gone at all, but been buried beneath those hardened layers of bitterness and resentment that had grown up around Anakin's heart. For Bail to be raising Anakin's daughter was, in a strange way, a chance for him to reconnect to the boy he had once been so fond of. It was also a way for him to repay Padme for years of friendship.

And Obi-Wan -- Obi-Wan had given Bail the daughter he always wanted. How strange that so many people, so many destinies, were bound together in the small child staring up at him with wide, concerned eyes.

"Papa?" Leia asked, worried about his ongoing silence.

Bail's thoughts raced about in his skull. He had to make a quick save so Leia would not know the truth. Perhaps he could take his cue from Obi-Wan by hiding that truth in plain sight. "I knew her as well," he offered. "I admired her greatly. She was a good friend." He paused, then said as nonchalantly as possible, "And you are very much like her."

Leia smiled, taking it as Bail had hoped, as a compliment and not a revelation. She was, however, smart enough to figure one thing out. "She's dead, isn't she?"

Bail nodded sadly. "Yes."

Rats. How come all the cool people were dead? Her father was always telling her about all these amazing people, and they always turned out to be dead. Well, at least General Kenobi had turned out to be alive. Leia wondered if she was ever going to know any cool people. Though come to think of it, Senator Mon Mothma wasn't too bad....

Leia sighed and snuggled up against Obi-Wan's chest. "I'm glad you're alive, Uncle Ben," she confided.

"So am I," Obi-Wan smiled.

Bail looked at him with an unspoken question, /Are you really?/

As if he had heard him, Obi-Wan returned his gaze with a placid, /Yes./

"Me, too," was all Bail said.

After dinner, it was time for them to leave. They loaded into the skyhopper and returned home. At some point during the trip, Leia fell asleep, and when they finally arrived, Bail and Obi-Wan were tired as well. They put Leia to bed and then headed to Bail's room.

Bail was trying very hard not to count each second as it slipped away. Obi-Wan was still here. He did not want to focus on the time when he would not be, but it was hard. He stood forlornly in the center of his bedroom, arms wrapped around himself to stave off the impending loneliness. Then a pair of arms slipped around him from behind, and he was being held tightly.

"Will you still be here in the morning?" he asked softly.

He felt the rasp of Obi-Wan's beard against his neck, then a gentle kiss. "No."

He squeezed his eyes shut, leaning back against Obi-Wan. "Good." He had to whisper, as his voice had left him. "Goodnight is easier than goodbye."

Obi-Wan passed his hand over Bail's hair, his fingers tangling into the curls as he cradled Bail with his other arm, rocking him slightly. He nuzzled against Bail's cheek, showering him with delicate kisses, the way Bail had first kissed him on the night of his arrival on Alderaan. When he turned Bail's face to kiss his eyelids, the Prince's lashes were damp with tears. He wanted to tell Bail not to cry, not to color their last hours with grief, but he could not ask it of him. He would accept all of Bail, and the sadness was a part of him, a part of their love. So it had always been, and he blessed those tears with his kisses.

Bail turned in Obi-Wan's arms until they were face to face, his mouth seeking Obi-Wan's, arms twining around his neck. No urgency, no wild abandon, just a simple embrace that said, *I belong here.*

They stood kissing for a long time, making no move to go any farther. Silence. Tasting, caressing, enjoying. No hurry, no rush. This was not foreplay, this was love itself, to stand in the arms of your lover and kiss his lips, to feel his cheek brush yours, to have your breath mingle with his, to feel his heart beat steadily against your own. So often a kiss meant anticipation, a promise of something more, of delights yet to come. Yet this kiss was familiar, lingering, offering not anticipation but comfort and contentment, presence. Total, pure presence. Everything else ceased to be: the Empire, the galaxy, sight and sound, thought, hope, despair. Nothing existed except this kiss.

When Bail at last returned to awareness, they were standing with arms wrapped around each other, foreheads touching.

"Bail," Obi-Wan whispered, and the Prince felt his own name as a breath of warm air against his lips. "If you want, I'll tell you now where I am living, but...." Obi-Wan pulled back just far enough that he could look into Bail's eyes. "Understand that you cannot contact me until it is time."

He understood why Obi-Wan was giving him the choice. What torture it would be to know where Obi-Wan was and be unable to call or visit him, unable to send him any message. Obi-Wan had asked many things of him these past few days, entrusted him with more than one secret that could get Bail killed. He did not mind the risk. After all, he had plenty of secrets of his own that could get him killed just as easily. That part was not hard. But to know that Obi-Wan was within his grasp, yet to voluntarily remain away... this was the hardest thing anyone had ever asked of him. Yet he knew that he would do it.

"Tell me," he said.

Obi-Wan again touched his forehead to Bail's and sighed. "I live on Tatooine, a place called the Jundland Wastes."

Tatooine. This revelation should have surprised Bail, but it did not. The circle was now complete. Obi-Wan had returned to the place where Anakin's story had begun. But their story did not begin there. Their story had begun on Alderaan almost thirty years ago, and Bail knew, somehow knew that one day it would end here as well. That knowledge gave him comfort, and he knew he would be able to wait. He would wait for Obi-Wan here on Alderaan until the day at last arrived to send for him, and then he would come, and they would be together.

And from that day, whenever it came, they were going to live happily ever after.

Until then, for these next few hours, they were going to live happily in the now. A slow smile spread across Bail's face, and he gazed up archly into his lover's beautiful blue-gray eyes.

"Wanna fuck?"

Day Six

When Bail woke up, he was alone.

For several minutes he lay there, staring at the empty space next to him, pretending that Obi-Wan was just in the bathroom and would come out any minute, or that he had gone on down to the kitchen and even now was pouring out two glasses of juice, one for himself and one for Bail. But it was no use. He knew better.

He ran one hand over the sheets next to him, still bearing the imprint of Obi-Wan's body, but the sheets were cold. He was long gone, once more a memory. Bail closed his eyes. He knew exactly how Obi-Wan's body fit against his, could trace in the empty air each scar and blemish on that skin, knew precisely how that hair smelled in the morning, could hear again the texture of that voice echoing in his ear. Obi-Wan was with him every minute of every day, as he had been for the past ten years. Obi-Wan was burned onto his soul, even more indelibly than the tattoo on his wrist, and Bail knew he could never lose him, even if he wanted to.

But it wasn't the same as having him in the flesh.

Bail forced himself to breathe, making himself release that old, familiar pain. Nothing he could do about it, nothing he could change. Just be grateful that a man named Obi-Wan Kenobi had ever once entered his life.

He sat up, steeling himself to face another day of loneliness, and that was when he noticed the object on the pillow next to him: a small black rock, shot through with veins of crimson fire. Obi-Wan's river stone, the one Qui-Gon had given him on his thirteenth birthday, of all objects his most prized possession, even above his lightsaber.

And it had been cut neatly, precisely in half.

Beneath the stone lay a note. "I will come back for it."

Bail picked up the stone. It fit perfectly into the hollow of his palm. He would never let go of it until it was returned at last to its mate.

"May you come soon, my love," he whispered to the empty air.