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Rating: PG

Archive: yes, and at my site www.wyomingnot.com/rita/rita.html

Summary: Obi-Wan copes with his new notoriety as the man who defeated a champion athlete. You need to have read the book in order to understand the story, though.

Category: Obi/Bail, humor

Timeline: Anakin is 14

Spoilers: for JQ#3

Feedback: on or off list, positive or negative, shaken or stirred

Requisite prostration: George Lucas. And Jude Watson. I am not worthy.

Thank yous: to Helens and Emma for the beta and to Emilie for the ending

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 <--You are here
Labyrinth
Private Lessons (off-site link)
Owner's Mark
Epicenter
Duty
Penumbra
Nightfall
Batter My Heart

Obi-Wan glanced around the restaurant, crowded with beings from all over the galaxy who had come to Euceron for the Galactic Games. The atmosphere was tinged with excitement, but Obi-Wan did not share in it, and even Anakin's enthusiasm had been dampened. While their mission to Euceron was technically a success in terms of lives saved and a conspiracy uncovered, none of the Jedi felt satisfied. The conspirators, protected by their wealth and privilege, managed to avoid persecution. Neither Obi-Wan nor Anakin was in much of a mood to enjoy the remainder of the Galactic Games, which they were still charged with protecting. But Bail, who was on planet for the games, had offered to take them out to dinner, and they were looking forward to a relaxing evening. They deserved it.

Obi-Wan glanced around, but before he could spy Bail, a waitbeing appeared before them. She smiled at them as brightly as if she'd just won a first place medal, herself. Obi-Wan said, "We're here to meet Senator Organa."

"Yes, sir," the waitbeing chirped. "He's already here. I'll take you right to his table." But she did no such thing, merely stood there, smiling dizzily at him.

Obi-Wan arched an eyebrow at her. "The table?"

The waitbeing blushed dark blue, and her antennae quivered in excitement. "Oh, yes! Yes, I'll take you there right away." She turned and led them through the restaurant, continually looking back over her shoulder and flashing her pointed teeth. Obi-Wan wondered how she could maneuver through the tables without watching where she was going.

His padawan leaned close to him and teased, "She likes you, Master."

"Don't be absurd," Obi-Wan grumbled. Just then the waitbeing looked back at him and beamed lasciviously. Obi-Wan gulped hard.

They arrived at the table. Bail stood to greet them, but before he could say anything, the waitbeing piped up, "Here you are, sir. If there's anything I can do for you, please don't hesitate to ask. And congratulations, sir!"

Obi-Wan frowned in confusion. "Um, thank you."

"Congratulations are indeed in order," Bail agreed. "Madam, would you please us a bottle of champagne?"

She nodded to the prince, but her eyes never left Obi-Wan, who settled uneasily in his chair. Bail gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, and Obi-Wan muttered, "Congratulations seem out of place. It appears that the conspirators will get away with it."

"Yes, that is unfortunate," Bail conceded, his enthusiasm scarcely dampened.

Obi-Wan shot him a disapproving glare. "How can you be so flippant about it? You were one of the senators they were trying to frame!"

"Oh, I know, but it happens all the time. Fraudulent conspiracies are sort of an occupational hazard."

"But they almost succeeded," Obi-Wan pointed out.

Bail waved his hand in dismissal. "Nonsense. Who would have believed I was involved in a massive gambling ring? Anyway, you two caught them and saved my reputation." He beamed at the two Jedi. "But we have something more important to celebrate: the Galactic Games' newest star!"

Obi-Wan blinked at him in consternation. "What?"

"You defeated Maxo Vista!" Bail gushed. "It's all anyone can talk about. You were amazing! So fast and graceful."

"I wish I'd seen it," Anakin added, sighing. "I heard it was incredible."

"Don't worry," Bail assured him, "I ordered the holovid." He winked at Anakin, before turning his attention back to Obi-Wan. "People say you had an unfair advantage, what with being a Jedi. But I say any advantage you had was more than outweighed by the fact that Vista was trying to kill you. As far as I'm concerned, you won fair and square."

"Bail!" Obi-Wan rebuked, shocked. "It was no game!"

Checking his enthusiasm a bit, Bail explained, "I knew something was wrong as soon as I saw that you were the guest competitor. I tried to alert the authorities, but there was no security nearby, and communications are jammed in the stadium to prevent cheating. There was nothing I could do." Shrugging his shoulders, Bail feigned confidence. "Of course, I knew you'd be fine. Though it was a little nerve-racking."

"I'm glad to hear it," Obi-Wan dryly remarked.

"I won the pod race!" Anakin piped up.

"You did?" Bail asked, astonished. "If I'd known you were going to be in the pod race, I'd --" Obi-Wan kicked him soundly under the table, "-- have been very worried," he quickly amended.

Anakin couldn't conceal his pride. "I won, even though both my steering and brakes were rigged to fail."

"Really? Now that would have been something to see."

"Bail," Obi-Wan warned.

As soberly as if he were discussing Anakin's academic marks, Bail commented, "You have a very talented padawan, Master Kenobi."

Before Obi-Wan could make the inevitable comment about how dangerous pod racing was and how Anakin was lucky to have escaped with his life, the champagne arrived, and as the steward uncorked it, Bail announced, "We have two champions to toast!"

"Neither of us was in competition," Obi-Wan pointed out. "We're on a mission; we didn't win anything."

Bail poured out three glasses and handed them around. "It's still worth celebrating." Holding his glass aloft, he toasted, "To the victors!" Anakin cheerfully lifted his glass, but Obi-Wan merely took a sip, shooting Bail a dark look.

The waitbeing reappeared, smile at maximum wattage. "Are you ready to order?"

"Get whatever you want, Anakin," Bail offered. "And I'll order for you, Ben. They don't serve plain lentils here. I'm afraid you'll just have to buckle down and enjoy a fine dinner."

While Bail and Anakin ordered, Obi-Wan noticed two children cautiously approaching the table. "Mr. Jedi, sir?" the older child asked.

Obi-Wan gave them a warm smile. "Yes?"

"We -- we saw you beat Maxo Vista," the boy stammered.

"You were wicked!" his little sister beamed.

The boy held out a pen and paper. "Can we have your autograph?"

Obi-Wan was flummoxed. "It was not a competition," he explained. "I'm here on a mission...."

Ignoring him, the girl continued, "It was so righteous when you did that flip and nailed that tentacle bush!"

"And when you fought the gladiator droids!" the boy added.

"Will you sign mine 'to Fria'?"

"I don't give out --," Obi-Wan began.

Enjoying Obi-Wan's discomfort, Bail rebuked, "Where are your manners, Ben? They're children."

While Obi-Wan shot the prince a murderous look, Anakin boasted to the kids, "I won the pod race."

The pair barely glanced at him. "We're not allowed to watch pod racing," the boy dismissed. He held the paper and pen out to Obi-Wan again.

Suppressing a sigh, Obi-Wan took them. "All right."

"To Fria," the girl prompted. "F-R-I-A."

"And I'm Hok," the boy said, glancing over Obi-Wan's shoulder as he hastily scribbled on the paper. When he handed it back to them, they squealed in delight, "Thank you, sir!" before running off.

"You have fans. How cute," Bail smirked.

"Not another word," Obi-Wan cautioned.

Bail turned to Anakin, "So you won, even though your steering and brakes weren't working? How exciting! Tell me all about it, and be sure to include all the horrifying details."

While Obi-Wan worn his "stern master" frown, Anakin launched into a blow by blow account of the race. Bail obligingly oohed and aahed at all the right moments. Presently, though, Anakin's account was interrupted by a young woman who approached their table.

"Sir Jedi?" she asked, in a husky voice.

Obi-Wan blinked up at her. "May I help you?"

"I hope so," she purred. "I saw you defeat Maxo Vista. You were incredible." She all but moaned the last word, sounding as if she were having a decidedly physical reaction to the memory.

Obi-Wan blushed to the roots of his hair. "Thank you, but it was not a competition --."

"May I have your autograph?" She handed him a pen.

Obi-Wan reluctantly took it, protesting, "I don't think --"

She pulled up her shirt, revealing her smooth, well-toned belly. "Right here," she said, running a fingertip across her bare flesh.

Obi-Wan gaped at her in a decidedly unmasterly way, while Anakin chortled behind his hand and Bail smirked.

"I... only... give autographs... to children," Obi-Wan weakly protested, handing her back the pen.

"But I'm such a big sports fan," she pouted. "If you need more room to sign, I can --," she started to pull her shirt higher.

"No! No, I don't give autographs!" Obi-Wan hastily protested.

"I won the pod race," Anakin helpfully pointed out.

The woman gave him a calculating glance, but Obi-Wan cautioned, "You're far too young to give autographs, Padawan."

"Especially that kind of autograph," Bail added. He smiled up at the woman. "I'm afraid you're out of luck. Jedi are very modest."

With a pert little frown, the woman slinked away, hips undulating.

/...

"I'm beginning to think we should have eaten in," Obi-Wan groaned.

"And deny your adoring public the chance to pay you homage?" Bail laughed. "Anyway, it's lucky for me you turned out to be the challenger. Otherwise I faced a losing bet."

Obi-Wan's heart froze. He had been so shocked when Bail's name appeared among the bettors on Bog's datapad. Supposedly those senators were being framed, but could Bail have actually been involved in illegal gambling? "You bet on the game?"

"Of course, I always do. That's half the fun," Bail said without a trace of a guilty conscience. "I thought for sure I was going to lose, but the Force must have guided me to bet against Vista."

"Bail, how could you?" Obi-Wan could scarcely hide his disappointment.

The prince shrugged. "I can't help it. I have a weakness for underdogs. Still, it all worked out well for me in the end."

Obi-Wan thought he would be sick. To think that he had inadvertently helped Bail win an illegal bet!

"And you shall share in my good fortune," Bail offered. "It's only fair."

"I want no part of it," Obi-Wan growled.

"You have to!" Bail protested. "Who else will I share it with? Anakin is far too young. Sorry," he smiled apologetically at the padawan. "Champagne is one thing, but Corellian whiskey is several years beyond you."

"Whiskey?" Obi-Wan repeated, confused.

"That's what I won," Bail explained, oblivious to Obi-Wan's concern. "I bet Senator Bel Iblis a bottle of Alderaani brandy against his Corellian whiskey. Everyone said I was a fool to bet on Vista's challenger, until you showed up to vindicate me." He gave Obi-Wan a fond smile.

"Corellian whiskey," Obi-Wan sighed in relief. "Honestly, Bail."

Misunderstanding him, Bail offered, "If you prefer the brandy, you may have it. I haven't lost it yet. But really, you should try the whiskey. It's even older than you are."

"It's your age, then?" was Obi-Wan's saucy retort.

But before Bail could rise to the bait, a new interloper approached their table, a heavy-set Bothan. "I don't do autographs," Obi-Wan dismissed curtly.

"A wise man!" the Bothan agreed. "Autographs are a valuable commodity. You should never just give them away. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Hamon Afia. I saw your performance in the obstacle course, young man. Fabulous. The crowd ate it up."

"It wasn't a competition," Obi-Wan half-heartedly offered.

"Don't sell yourself short! Now, I know most games have rules against Jedi competing, but I've got connections. That's why you need me. I can hook you up in venues that are open to all comers, even Jedi. And don't worry, it's all perfectly legal."

"I beg your pardon?" Obi-Wan asked in disbelief.

Afia reached into his vest pocket and pulled out a card, handing it to Obi-Wan. "I'm an agent. No one's signed you up, yet, have they?"

"N-no," Obi-Wan stammered.

"Lucky for you! And for me, too, eh?" Afia laughed broadly, then winked at Anakin. "Hey, kid, I saw you, too. You were terrific. Too bad pod racing's illegal. But there are other courses I can hook you up with --"

"Absolutely not," Obi-Wan stated. "We are Jedi, not athletes."

"Now, come on. Think of the opportunities! Jedi athletes would be hot items, and I can guarantee you far better pay than anything your Temple can offer."

"The knowledge that we've been of service to the galaxy is worth far more than any winning purse," Obi-Wan primly replied.

Afia's expression fell. "Right. Of course. Well, if you ever change your mind, you be sure and give me a call."

"If I change my mind, I'll know how to reach you," Obi-Wan agreed, scowling.

"Right. Well, enjoy your dinner, friends."

Bail chuckled as the Bothan left. "He has a point. You could get rich, you know. You'd finally have your face on a box of cereal."

"That's been my lifelong ambition," Obi-Wan retorted. "But I already have a job."

"Still, it was nice to complete the mission and compete at the same time," Anakin said. "I bet a part of you liked it, at least a little bit. I know I did."

"After all," Bail added, "if you were only concerned about your mission, you might not have beaten Vista by such a large margin."

Obi-Wan cleared his throat. "There is a certain exhilaration in pushing one's limits."

"Of course," Bail agreed with a wry smile. "And all those fancy flips you did were just stretching exercises. Certainly not showing off."

"No, not showing off at all," a strange voice added. A smoky voice. A seductive voice.

The three of them looked up to see a female Falleen. Falleens were widely regarded as one of the most aesthetically pleasing species in the galaxy, and the specimen that stood before them exuded enough charisma to reduce even the most ascetic monk to a state of quivering desire. "You were fabulous in the obstacle course," she added. "So graceful. So powerful." She extended a pale green arm and handed him a piece of paper.

"I don't do autographs," Obi-Wan futilely protested.

"I'm not asking for one." She blew him a lascivious kiss, then slinked away.

For several seconds, none of them moved, intoxicated by her powerful pheromones. Obi-Wan recovered first, frowning in confusion at the paper she had left on the table. Anakin shook his head to clear it, then snatched the note up and opened it. "Look!" he crowed in delight, waving it for the others to see.

A red lipstick kiss. A hotel name. A room number.

Obi-Wan groaned and buried his head in his hands.

"Time for the after-game work-out?" Bail speculated.

"Not on your life," Obi-Wan glowered.

"I'll just keep this, then," Anakin suggested, folding the note, but Obi-Wan snatched it out of his hands before he could slip it into his pocket. He crumbled the paper into a ball and dropped it into his water glass.

"Master!" Anakin protested in dismay. "She was really pretty."

Struggling to hide his amusement, Bail remarked, "Your master is teaching you a valuable lesson, Anakin. Fame is fickle. You should never trust it."

"What fame?" Anakin grumbled. "Nobody knows who I am. They don't care that I won the pod race. I'm the only human who can pod race at all, let alone win, and I did it without my brakes or my steering!"

Obi-Wan corrected, "The most important thing is that you saved lives, padawan."

"That's definitely something to be proud of," Bail added.

Anakin stared down at his plate, shoulders slumped. "Of course I'm glad I saved lives," he dutifully echoed.

Obi-Wan sighed inwardly and reached for his drink - the one that didn't have a soggy love note in it. He couldn't understand why Anakin saw Jedi responsibility as a chore. Wasn't saving lives the greatest excitement one could know? Why couldn't the boy see how shallow fame was?

Obi-Wan's thoughts were interrupted by someone shouting, "There he is!"

Anakin scowled. "More adoring fans for you, master."

Two young men rushed up to the table, their faces ecstatic. "I can't believe it!" one of them exclaimed, "It really is you, isn't it?"

Obi-Wan opened his mouth to reply, then realized they weren't staring at him.

"You're Anakin Skywalker!" the men whooped in unison.

The padawan's jaw dropped, hitting the table with a thud.

"You won the Boonta Classic on Tatooine! I'm so thrilled to meet you! I'm Darin, by the way." He grabbed Anakin's hand and pumped it enthusiastically.

"And I'm Seral," the other introduced himself, elbowing his companion out of the way. "You just disappeared after the Boonta. We couldn't believe it when we heard you would be racing here!"

"We are such big fans!" Darin interjected. "You're incredible. The best!"

"Your pod disabled, and not only did you finish safely, you won! Brilliant, using Hekula's pod to get you through that last turn."

"And then the way you spun out your pod to slow it down! Amazing!"

Having recovered from his initial shock, Anakin drawled, "Yeah, well, I didn't have much time to come up with a strategy. None of my warning lights went off. I only realized the brakes had failed a couple hundred meters before that last turn. Hekula could have wiped me out on the turn, but he'd wreck his chance at winning, and I knew he'd never do that."

"Awesome," Seral sighed. "You beat Sebulba on Tatooine, and now years later you show up and beat his son."

"You are the best pod racer in the galaxy!" Darin added.

Anakin glowed at the praise, and even though Obi-Wan knew he should warn against inappropriate pride, he couldn't find it in his heart to scold the boy.

"Would you like my autograph?" Anakin offered.

"We'd love it!" the men agreed, producing paper and pen. Anakin scrawled his name, signing, "To my biggest fans."

While Seral gazed happily at his autograph, Darin ripped off a corner of his paper and scribbling something on it, handed it back to Anakin. "That's for you," he offered. His voice had lowered. In fact, he sounded rather...sultry. "In case you want to celebrate later."

"We'd love to give you the grand prize," Seral purred. With a lascivious wink, he linked his arm around Darin's waist, and the two of them left.

Blinking in shock, Anakin looked at the paper in his hand. A hotel name. A room number.

"Ewww!" he squealed, throwing the paper on the table. "That is so gross!"

Shaking his head and laughing, Bail remarked, "They meant it as a compliment. I told you, fame isn't everything."

Obi-Wan mercifully remained silent, although he couldn't quite manage to suppress his grin.

Anakin picked up his fork and pushed the paper toward Obi-Wan. "You take this, master. They're your type."

"But they're your fans," Obi-Wan returned.

"I thought you said I was too young to give that kind of autograph."

"Then perhaps we should just add this invitation to my own," Obi-Wan suggested. Picking up the paper, he crumpled it up and dropped it in his water glass, along with the Falleen's.

"Too bad," Bail commiserated. "So how will you end up celebrating your victory, Anakin?"

Glancing at his master for permission, Anakin said, "Maybe I'll just go find my friend Tru. We haven't explored all of the city yet."

"An excellent idea, Padawan," Obi-Wan seconded. "And I won't even suggest that you invite Ferus Olin to join you."

At last Anakin smiled. "Thank you, Master. You are the kindest, most compassionate Jedi that ever lived."

"Remember that next time I make you practice the seventh kata."

"Deal. May I be excused?"

Obi-Wan nodded, and Anakin rose and bowed quickly to them both.

"Just a minute," Bail said, crooking his finger at the boy, then glancing at Obi-Wan. "Obi-Wan, you look tired. I think you should close your eyes for a minute."

Obi-Wan started to protest, but stopped himself and obligingly shut his eyes.

Bail reached into his pocket and handed Anakin some money. "Have fun."

Anakin glanced at the bills in his hand. When he saw how much money Bail had given him, he completely forgot himself and kissed the prince on the cheek. "Thank you!" he gushed and ran off.

Obi-Wan opened his eyes and shook his head. "How much did you give him?"

"Why do you think I asked you to close your eyes?" Bail answered. "You're better off not knowing. Anyway, it was worth it; he hasn't kissed me in ages."

"He kissed you?"

"Are you jealous?" Bail teased.

Obi-Wan only smiled. "I'm happy."

"Then I'm happy, too," Bail said. "And how are you planning to celebrate the evening?"

Glancing at the soggy contents of his water glass, Obi-Wan remarked, "I seem to have gotten rid of all my options."

"Not entirely." Bail retrieved the pen that Anakin's fans had left and wrote something on the back of Afia's business card. With an arch smile, he handed the card to Obi-Wan.

The Jedi took it and read aloud, "Marisci Plaza Hotel, room 2871." He raised an eyebrow. "I don't give autographs."

Bail's foot stroked up Obi-Wan's leg. "What's the matter? Did your pen run out of ink?"

His lips curling in a responsive smile, Obi-Wan drawled, "My pen is always primed and ready."

"I'm your biggest fan, you know."

"I wouldn't want to disappoint my biggest fan. Fame has its obligations." Obi-Wan took the prince's hand and pressed a kiss to his palm. "Perhaps I should try some of my winning moves on you."

Bail's eyes sparkled in pleasure. Dating a champion athlete definitely had its privileges.