Master Apprentice Archive Frail Deeds Quick search:

Frail Deeds

by MrsHamill (mrshamill@gmail.com)

Archive: MA and my site, Mom's Kitchen (www.hawksong.com/~momskitchen)

Category: Drama, etc.

Pairing: Q/O, other pairing(s)

Rating: NC-17

Summary: Putting the pieces on the board.

Disclaimer: What, you think I own these guys? Do I even look like George Lucas? If this is not what you expected, please alter your expectations. No such thing as random coincidence. No such thing as too much lubricant.

Warning: Never say 'bite me' to a cat.

Series: The Dying of the Light, story two

Notes: This is the second of a planned four-story series called The Dying of the Light. This one starts about two years after TPM and covers a bit, leading up to the events of AotC. Though you don't have to read the first story, Wise Men at Their End, I strongly recommend you do in order to understand what's going on here, especially since this is mostly a 'setup' story. Claude provided me with a beta and the premise was helped along (innocently enough) by Emu and Katbear and Rita, as accessories after the fact. Don't expect perfection because I can't resist tweaking. The next story in the cycle, Learn, Too Late will be along soon, I expect.

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the Light.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the Light.

-- Do Not Go Gentle into That Good Night, by Dylan Thomas

Before the Beginning:

The boy was the very picture of bored loneliness. He wandered out of the rooms he and his master had been assigned into the small, tasteful, zealously tamed garden, kicking at the path with his boots. He found a sunny patch next to a large, aggressively trimmed fala tree and plopped down on the grass -- each blade precisely six centimeters in height. It was a warm day on Haelth but not for the boy, as he had been born and raised in a hot desert. His master was inside, officiating over a complicated and complex treaty between Haelth and its closest neighbor, and the boy had absolutely nothing to do.

Ben Kenbar watched Anakin Skywalker from his position in a shadowy niche in the wall surrounding the garden. Anakin had grown; he was nearly twelve and growth spurts were common in human boys his age. His hair hadn't kept up with his body and his padawan's braid was still short, still not quite reaching the bottom of his face. Ben knew that Anakin had been catching up with his studies and was proving to be an adept and eager student, but he also knew that Anakin's current master was in no way the proper master to nourish the boy's soul, for several reasons.

Silently, he left his niche and made his way to Anakin's location. Anakin had his chin propped up in both hands and was staring at the grass as if encouraging it to grow outside its rigorous guidelines. He didn't notice Ben's approach until his sunlight was eclipsed.

Squinting, he looked up at the figure standing before him in puzzlement. "Um... Sir?"

"Hello, Anakin."

Anakin's face twisted as he stared up into the person in front of him. Ben sank to his heels and Anakin's jaw dropped. "Mas... Master Obi-Wan? Sir? Is... is that really..."

"Yes, it's really me, Anakin." Ben smiled gently. "Sorry to surprise you, but I'm traveling incognito at the moment and can't afford to be recognized."

Anakin swallowed hard and his eyes flooded with tears. "You really are alive," he whispered.

Ben's heart nearly broke. "I'm sorry, Anakin, I don't know what you've been told or how much, but yes, I'm really alive. I'm really here. And I've missed you."

His hopes that Anakin would greet him with a hug went up in a puff of nonexistent smoke as Anakin twisted away and got to his feet. The tears were still there but anger seemed to be driving them as much as sorrow. "You can't have missed me very much, not if you wouldn't even tell me you're alive. Not if you wouldn't even tell me that you're not my master anymore. You just disappeared on me!"

Ben stayed where he was. "I know. And I'm sorry, but it was necessary."

"I thought you were dead! Just like... just like Master Qui-Gon!"

"In a sense, I am," Ben said softly. "Come, sit back down with me? I have a lot to tell you and I'd also love to know how you're doing."

Anakin had been born a slave and carried a slave's distrust of authority and honesty. He eyed Ben warily, then wiped his eyes roughly with the back of his hand before sitting again, barely within Ben's reach.

Ben sighed. "I truly am sorry I didn't even get to say goodbye to you, Anakin." Ben sought Anakin's eyes but the boy would not look up at him. "There were... things that had to be done, things that meant I had to change, I had to become someone else. Because of them, I had to give up my padawan and you must believe me when I say it was one of the saddest things I've ever done." Anakin glanced at him through his long lashes, but immediately looked away again. "I made a promise to train you, to help you become a Jedi, and I had to break that promise... well, at least half of it. I swore you would become a Jedi some day, and that will happen."

Anakin sighed, an exaggerated sound that could only come from a boy of nearly twelve. "I trusted you," he mumbled.

Ben reached out and gently tucked Anakin's braid back behind his ear. "I know. I can only tell you how sorry I am."

After a few more moments, Anakin finally looked up. "Why? Why did you have to go?" He frowned at Ben's clothing. "And why aren't you dressed like a Jedi?"

"It's because... well. It's because I'm technically no longer a Jedi, Anakin." There. That got the boy's attention.

"You're not? But why?"

Ben sighed. "It's a very long story, Anakin, and I need to tell it to you. However, we only have a couple of minutes before Master Yoda will be back for you, so I can't tell you every little piece of it." Anakin settled cross-legged on the grass and looked at Ben. His face was no longer suspicious but instead welcoming, if puzzled, which relieved Ben. With a half-smile, Ben settled himself more comfortably as well, before speaking again. "You remember what happened on Naboo, the strange person who fought us and tried to kill us? He was a Sith. Have you studied them yet?"

Wearing a frown, Anakin nodded. "A little bit. Our unit on history talked about Yavin and the Massassi but we haven't gotten very far into it."

"When you return to the Temple, make sure you look up every reference you can on the Sith. You need to know who they were and what they were, Anakin." Ben looked into Anakin's grave little face. "The main thing you need to know about the Sith is that they're evil. They use the Force for their own purposes and never for good. The Jedi only use the Force to help people."

"But..." Abruptly, Anakin subsided, looking down.

With a frown of his own, Ben said, "If you have a question, Anakin, you must ask it. Have you been taught otherwise?"

"Um... not really, I mean, Master Yoda, he always answers my questions, but..." Anakin bit his lip. "Master Nu, in the library, she doesn't like me very much." He swallowed and did not look up. "A lot of people don't like me very much. I... I thought... well, I thought you didn't, either."

Ben sighed. "Oh, Anakin. I'm so sorry." He reached out and gently tipped Anakin's face back up towards him. "Before we returned to Naboo, I said some things that I shouldn't have said. I know you heard me, and that makes what I said doubly wrong. Have you ever..." Ben sighed again. "Have you ever thought or said something that in the next moment you knew to be wrong or dumb?"

This time when Anakin ducked away, it was to hide an abashed grin. "Well, yeah. I guess."

"Immediately upon saying that, I regretted doing so. But what I said, Anakin, it was the truth. You're dangerous now and you're going to become even more dangerous. In fact, I would wager that you'll be the most dangerous and powerful Jedi ever."

The look Anakin gave him was frankly disbelieving and more than a little frightened. Ben chuckled reassuringly. "I tell you the truth, young apprentice. And there are many reasons why I tell you and many reasons why you will become so."

"It's not about that whole..." Anakin waved his hand, a look of disgust on his face, "'Chosen One' thing, is it?"

"Oh, dear." Ben winced. "You've heard, I take it?"

"Oh, yeah. Everybody knows. And I don't even know what it means!"

"Neither do we, Anakin, at least not yet. But that may have something to do with the whole situation or it may not. And it is not for you to worry about. You, young padawan, need to work on becoming a Jedi, your path firmly in the Light." They smiled at each other, though Anakin's was tentative. "But you had a question to ask me, I think."

"I did?"

Ben chuckled. "I think it was something after I said that the Jedi only use the Force to help people."

"Oh, yeah!" Anakin seemed to have relaxed completely and Ben rejoiced internally. "If the Jedi use the Force to help people, then why don't we? Help people, I mean. Like my mom, like all the other slaves and the people who live in the sub-levels and don't have enough to eat and all those people, too?"

Ben hesitated before he spoke; this question had to be treated gently. "The answer to that is very complicated, Anakin, and it's one of the reasons why I'm no longer technically a Jedi." He stared intently into Anakin's concentrating face. "You've heard us say that we serve the Force first and the Republic second?" Anakin nodded slowly. "That may not be what we're actually doing any longer. In serving the Republic, the Jedi have found we must sometimes make choices the Force disagrees with, and that might be completely wrong. Have you run across the phrase 'political expediency'?"

"Umm... I don't think so."

"Look it up when we're done. If we followed the Force and our hearts, then we would be doing good all the time. But because we have become an arm of the Republic, we must at times bow to the wishes of the Senate."

"But... but that..."

"I know what you're going to say and I believe you're right. However, the Council does not."

"Oh!" Ben grinned as the dawn rose over Anakin's face. "I get it! That's why you're not Jedi anymore."

"Yes. Partially, technically, we're not." Ben touched the side of Anakin's nose. "But it's possible that we're more Jedi than the Jedi are. We're going to find out, anyway."

"But why can't you do that as a Jedi?"

"For a couple of reasons. One is the Sith that I killed on Naboo. When you do more research into them -- which I expect you'll want to, as soon as you get back to Coruscant -- you'll run across the phrase, 'the rule of two.' What that means is where there is one, there is another. Where there is an apprentice, there is a master. Almost always."

"Well, which one did you kill on Naboo?"

"We don't know yet, but I suspect it was the apprentice."

"So that means... The master would be..." Anakin trailed off and Ben nodded gravely. "Wow. So you're going to go Sith hunting. That's why you look so different then."

"Different?" Ben looked down at himself. No, he wasn't in standard tunics and he sported a beard and longer hair, but he felt overall he hadn't changed substantially.

"Not just the clothes and stuff. You..." Anakin grimaced hard, turning a penetrating stare on Ben. "You... I guess you feel different. Like... like more... stronger. In the Force and stuff. Really, you feel more like Master Yoda feels. Sorta. Is that part of all of it?"

Ben blinked in surprise -- the child was incredible, so strong and sure in the Force, so different than what he had been as a slave. "I suppose," he finally replied. "After a fashion."

"I think I get it." Anakin smiled and Ben smiled back. "I wish I could go with you."

"You just want to skip all the boring learning and go right to the battles," Ben accused and Anakin laughed.

"I guess. But... I just... I wish you... I wish you could still be my master." The grin was gone and in its place was a sadness Ben could feel. "I love Master Yoda, but..."

"But he's stuffy and boring and hardly ever does anything exciting."

Anakin blinked and laughed. "Well, not quite that bad..."

"Just don't ever let him cook you breakfast."

Rolling his eyes, Anakin said, "Yeah, I found out about that one."

Ben reached out and grabbed Anakin's shoulder, giving him a gentle shake. "Hold on, Anakin. I don't think you'll have Yoda as a master much longer."

"Huh?"

"I can't say much more than that, unfortunately. You are going to be dangerous, my friend. But before that can happen, you've got learning to do, and problems to overcome. Like the one with your temper which you'll have to come to grips with, and soon."

Anakin heaved another sigh and looked down again. "I know. Master Yoda is always telling me to mind my thoughts. It's just so hard sometimes."

"I know. Believe me, I do know. I had problems with my temper too." Ben nodded when Anakin looked up at him, his hopeful face telling the tale. "You will be a Jedi, you will be able to overcome your temper, and you will become very, very dangerous. Do you know Master Gallia?"

Anakin blinked. "Um... yeah, she's on the Council. Right?"

"Yes. She used to have a padawan who had a lot of trouble with her temper. Ask her about it, sometime." Sometime soon, with any luck, Ben added in his head. He glanced at the sun, realizing they'd talked for some time. "I'm going to need to return soon; if there's anything you want to ask me, you should do so now."

"Oh." Anakin's brow furrowed. "Can I... I mean, can you... call me? See me sometimes?"

"Probably not in the Temple," Ben said with regret. "We can't be seen anywhere near Jedi, actually. And my name isn't even Obi-Wan anymore, it's Ben. Ben Kenbar. But if you're out with your master, like you are now, I'll do my best to at least stop and say hello."

"You're undercover." Anakin was practically bouncing as he sat. "That is so wizard."

"Sometimes." Ben grinned ruefully. "Sometimes it's just a pain in the rear."

"Can I tell Master Yoda I've seen you?"

"Yes, you can tell your master you've seen me, Anakin." Ben winked. "Actually, Master Yoda knows we're sitting here talking. But you must always feel free to tell your master that you've seen us, just no one else, ever."

"Uh, all right," Anakin said, puzzling over Ben's words.

"And let me tell you how to get on Master Nu's good side. She can be very helpful to you, but she's prickly, like a feline. Pet her the right way and she'll like you. Say the right things, treat her like the genius she is, and you'll get along fine." Ben rolled his eyes. "Personally, I think we should just tell her that the Sith master mutilates reference books and turn her loose. There wouldn't be much left to clean up, I think."

Anakin giggled. "Thanks, Master Ob-- I mean, Master Ben."

"Just Ben, Anakin. Just your friend Ben."

Most boys love to have a good secret, and Anakin was no different. "It's just so wizard to know you're out there, hunting for the Sith."

"This isn't a holonovel, Anakin," Ben said, though his warning did little to dilute Anakin's obvious excitement. "We're working very hard and it's going to take a very long time. The galaxy is a big place."

"You keep saying 'we'," Anakin said. "You've got other Jedi with you, helping you?"

"Well, yes and no. Master Vos and Master Tholme know about us but not many others do; most of the rest are on the Council. To most of the Jedi, we really are dead, and that's how it must stay." Ben looked into Anakin's face, trying to convey information, wishing he could say more, aware he might have said too much. "Obi-Wan Kenobi is as dead as Qui-Gon Jinn, Anakin. Remember that. If anyone ever asks you, that's what you must say."

Anakin nodded, the gravity of Ben's words apparently sinking in. "I... I think I understand. Sorta." His face told Ben he really didn't get it, but that was fine.

"Some day, Anakin, after everything has changed, we'll sit down and laugh about all this." He reached out and ruffled Anakin's padawan brush cut. "Study hard, Anakin. Do us both proud."

"I will, sir. I promise."

They both rose and the hug Ben had wanted at the beginning of their conversation was given at the end. Anakin held on very tightly, and Ben reciprocated. They said nothing else as they parted, but Ben noted that Anakin's step was far lighter and his aura was back to his normal, sunny colors. He sighed, already missing the boy he'd never really cared for until that moment.

When Yoda returned to his room after a long, tedious day working on the Haelth-Krima treaty, he found his current padawan absent and someone else in his place. "Hello, my master," Kellin said softly.

Yoda sighed. He clambered into the chair opposite his guest and fingered his gimer stick. His ears were drooping, probably out of a combination of weariness and frustration. Kellin knew the treaty negotiations were tedious in the extreme. "Come to bother me you have? Do this later, I would prefer."

"Sorry, Yoda. This is the best place for meeting, no one would expect to see us here. We're just two ordinary people making a mercantile supply run."

"Ordinary you two are not," Yoda snapped.

"Anger leads to the Dark Side, Yoda," Kellin said, not without humor.

"As does frustration!" Yoda harrumphed but subsided. "Here you are now, tell me what you will."

"You have to give up Anakin as your padawan."

"Over this, we have been."

"And follow my suggestion you have not."

"Explain your suggestion you have not!"

Kellin sighed. How could he explain what he had come to know without knowing? The Force spoke to him far more clearly now than it ever had within the Temple. It was almost as though it were visible, running multicolored threads through every living thing, through every possible future. Kellin knew that Anakin would be important, tremendously important, to Yoda's future and the future of the Order, but he could not explain with words. "If you continue to train Anakin, he will not remain in the Light. You will have to trust me on this."

"Do a better job, I suppose you could?" When Yoda wanted to be scathing, he certainly did well.

"No," Kellin answered honestly. "If I had trained him, he would have fallen even sooner. I've spoken with Tholme; he won't do it, says he's too old and too busy. Adi, however, has agreed to take Anakin."

Yoda glared at the man sitting opposite him. "Go behind my back you should not. The other speaks with Anakin already, yes?"

"Yes, my partner Ben is talking with Anakin. You must take my suggestion." Kellin kept his voice mild, masking his increasing irritation with the old troll.

"Bah." Yoda turned his attention to the sideboard, where a pot of tea sat. With very little outward effort, he poured the tea into a waiting mug then levitated it over to himself, not spilling a drop.

"Aren't you going to offer me a cup?" Kellin asked, lacing his words with as much sarcasm as he could. Had he done that, he would have been taken to task for frivolous use of the Force.

"Get one yourself you can, Qui-Gon Jinn." Yoda sipped his tea, glaring at Kellin over the rim.

Kellin sighed. "You know my name is Kellin Quenn, Yoda. And I'll pass, thanks." Kellin shook his head. Intractable old troll. "Yoda, I don't want to argue with you over this. Let Anakin be trained by Adi. If you don't, we'll be forced to take him with us and we don't want to do that."

"Threatening me, are you?" Yoda's voice didn't carry any type of angry inflection and Kellin rolled his eyes again.

"If I thought it would work, I would!" Kellin shook his head and Yoda cackled. "It's not a threat. It's what's necessary."

With an enormous sigh, Yoda drained his cup and placed both cup and saucer on the table next to him. "Fine, fine. To Adi he will go."

"Thank you," Kellin said. "You're doing the right thing."

"What other news have you? Anything on the Sith?"

It was Kellin's turn to sigh, in frustration. "No, nothing more than what we've already shared. All the trails we've found lead back to Coruscant ad there, they peter out. We still have time, we think."

Yoda was silent for a long time, and though his green gaze was on Kellin, he was obviously seeing something else, perhaps light-years away. "Look to the Supreme Chancellor, you should," he finally said, in a voice so soft Kellin almost couldn't hear it.

"We have been." Kellin frowned. The Force strands always seemed more concentrated, knottier, when he was with Yoda, but now they were almost pulsing. When Kellin closed his eyes and centered himself, he could see strands of color writhing and coiling around Yoda, around himself, around everything. It wasn't the first time he'd seen such a thing, but it was the strongest by far and he wondered if Ben were right and it was the Force realigning itself with respect to the universe. "We'll look some more."

"Good. Leave me now, you must. Tired I am. Treaty is finally signed and home we will go tomorrow."

Kellin rose, then bowed. "I'm glad you're finished. Have a safe journey back to Coruscant, Master Yoda."

Yoda waved him off with one claw. "Away with you now."

Keeping a small smile on his face, Kellin slipped out of Yoda's rooms as silently as he had entered. As he left, he pressed a small button on a device tucked into his pocket, one which re-activated all the listening and watching devices which had been planted in Yoda's room.

After the Beginning:

Tossing a few credits on the table, Quinlan Vos drained his tankard and rose from his seat. As he swaggered to the door of the dingy and smoke-filled pub, he was aware of eyes watching him -- at least six pairs and one set of eight, perhaps more. Only one pair counted, however, and he didn't even need to use the Force to tell him that pair, and the long legs beneath them, was following him.

He stood for a moment outside the pub's doors, breathing in the slightly less polluted outdoors air. After a moment, he turned to his left, looking for all the world like a slightly inebriated shipyard worker on his way home after a long day -- except for the wrappings which covered his hands and upper arms. His silent follower moved with him, hardly more than his shadow. With a quick move, Quinlan ducked down an alley, wondering if his shadow would still keep up. The alley was mostly shadowed but two of the world's tiny moons made the blackness deeper.

A voice came from behind him, a low growl. "Freeze, Jedi. Hands where I can see them."

Quinlan fought to keep the smile from his face. "Oh, ser, you must have the wrong man. I'm not a Jedi."

"Yeah, right," said a voice directly in front of him. "And I'm a bantha."

"Awfully short for a bantha..."

"That is going to cost you." The owner of the cultured voice stepped out of the darkness into the dim light so that Quinlan could see him. "Maybe he's right, though, he doesn't look much like a Jedi. A good Jedi, anyway."

"That is going to cost you," Quinlan said. The smile he'd been trying (without success) to turn into a scowl broadened. "Though may I just say, pot, would you care to meet kettle?"

"If you two are quite finished pissing at each other?" The one who had followed him now moved close enough to be seen. "We need to take this off the streets before someone hears us." Their voices had been little more than a whisper but Quinlan nodded.

"The docks." the man in front said. "Let's go."

They kept to the darkness and alleyways as much as they could, as much out of an innate sense of caution and wariness as anything, since they didn't think they were being followed. The pub had been in the dock area so it didn't take them long to reach the his companions directed him to. Quinlan stopped dead and blinked as he saw the sleek, black ship sitting before him. "Sweet."

"She's even better inside. Let's go."

Quinlan watched as his companions went through a convoluted process to get the port open, then quickly moved on board with them. As he closed the door behind them, the shorter of the two men turned and punched Quinlan on the shoulder, just above his yellow armband tattoo.

"Ow! What was that for?"

"I told you that would cost you!" He laughed. "You look like shit, Vos."

"Same to you, Keno-- I mean, Kenbar. Ben. Whatever. You got anything to drink on this barge?"

"Sorry, we're out of formaldehyde. C'mon back, we'll find something."

Quinlan followed his hosts aft, openly goggling at the ship around him. "Where the hells did you get this ship? She's gorgeous."

"Stole her," Ben said as he waved Quinlan into the galley. His partner was already pulling bottles out of a large coldbox.

"You did not." Quinlan accepted one bottle, broke the seal and sprawled in one of the four chairs around the table, lifting his hair up so it fell down the back of the seat.

"Did so. Tell him, Kellin."

"We stole this ship," Kellin said, in a long-suffering voice after rolling his eyes. "Not, I might add, that it was my idea."

"She used to belong to Nute Gunray," Ben said and Quinlan snorted ale up his nose.

"No shit?!" Quinlan demanded once he could breathe again.

"No shit," Ben replied. Kellin rolled his eyes again. "Of course, we've made some mods to her since. Beefed her up. Took out the egg couches. Stuff like that." He glanced at his partner and grinned. "Kept one of the big basking tanks, though. It's got jets."

"Mavra's blessed tits. Leave it to you two." Quinlan held out his bottle. "Here's to stealing more from that damned Trade Federation." Three bottles clinked. "And the Banking Clan. Come to think of it, the Techno Union too. I don't suppose you could steal me something of theirs?"

"We'll add it to the list," Kellin said, his voice dry. Ben laughed.

They were silent for a long moment, savoring their drinks. "So, where you two been, anyway? I mean, besides stealing a ship from that dried-out fish Gunray. You're almost two tens late."

"Yeah, sorry about that," Ben said. He slouched back in his chair. "We... um. We were investigating some smuggling racket and got caught up on Nar Shaddaa." He looked uncomfortable and Quinlan frowned. "How's Aayla?"

"She's fine, she's at the Temple enduring level finals and what the fuck are you trying to push me away from?" Quinlan looked between his two friends. Kellin looked pensive and Ben rueful.

"You remember hearing about that nasty drug, glitteryll? It was going around over the last cycle." It was Kellin who spoke and Ben looked relieved.

"Yeah, the Council mentioned that might be my next mission, after Aayla blazes through her finals for this level as I expect she will. Why?" He narrowed his eyes. "You're not telling me something."

"Aayla's uncle, Pol Secura... he was a key smuggler of glitteryll," Kellin said softly. "He knew who had set up the entire operation, and so now, we know too."

Quinlan took a large swig of his ale which soured in his mouth. "He did."

"Yes. We need you to get the man under arrest before he hurts anyone else." It was still Kellin who spoke; Ben wouldn't meet Quinlan's eyes. "His name is Chom Frey Kaa. The senator from--"

"From the Brealis sector, or more importantly from the Y'Toub system." Quinlan drained his bottle and banged it on the table. "Don't you two have any manners?"

Without a word, Ben rose and fetched another round of bottles. He finally met Quinlan's gaze. "You were supposed to go there with Aayla, it was to be a trap. He'd never forgiven her for defecting from the family and joining the Jedi, or you for seducing her into it."

"I know." Quinlan popped the lid on the second bottle and sipped. "He's dead?"

"Yes." It was Ben who spoke. Kellin just looked sad. "We'll leave it up to you whether you want to tell Aayla or not."

"Golly, thanks. What a nice thing to do, give me the easy job." Quinlan gathered his long, dreadlocked hair up at the nape of his neck and stretched, letting his chin fall onto his chest while he thought. Ben and Kellin were kindly silent while he did so. Finally, he sighed and looked up at them. "So, do you have any other bad news to tell me?"

Ben smiled sadly. "No, that's about it. I'm sorry, Quin."

"Not your fault." Quinlan took a deep swig out of his new bottle. "You got the evidence on that noob Kaa?"

Kellin reached into a pocket and pulled out a data crystal, which he slid across the table. Quinlan caught it and made it disappear. "Next stop: Coruscant, I guess."

"Sounds about right. You might want to hurry, since we're not sure if Kaa knows about Secura's death yet -- once he hears about it, he might try to go to ground." Ben sipped from his bottle. "Oh, and if you find or hear anything about Dooku, let us know," he added.

"Dooku?" Quinlan gave Kellin a puzzled glance. "Wasn't he..."

"My master. Yes." Kellin hadn't finished his first ale but was picking at the label paper. "He... left the Jedi. After I died." Kellin sounded marginally bitter and Quinlan frowned again.

"Were you two that close?"

"No."

Kellin didn't seem to want to say any more, but Ben gave him a sour look. "There was no love lost between them. I never liked Dooku either." Kellin opened his mouth to speak but Ben overrode him. "Which is something we've discussed before and will discuss again so let's drop it."

Kellin closed his eyes briefly, but when he opened them, he smiled at Ben, who took his hand. "We're not sure what's going on with him, but he's up to something."

"I'll keep my eyes open," Quinlan promised. With a sly look to Ben, he added, "I don't suppose you'd be willing to lend me this ship for a while...?"

"In your dreams, Quin. In your dreams," Ben said. Kellin just chuckled.

The Beginning of the Middle:

Quinlan made sure to return to the Temple before going to the Senate building, despite the urgency of his mission. He checked in with the Council, giving them a copy of the datacrystal and getting their authority to proceed (not that he would have stopped had they asked it of him). He checked in with Aayla, who had already passed the bulk of her finals and was frantically cramming for the rest. He also checked in with his master, Tholme, and compared notes about their two favorite spies. Then he showered, pulled his hair back as neatly as it would go, and changed into clean tunics and re-wrapped his hands. He was getting so used to have those damn things on it almost took an act of will to unwrap when he was home and safe from picking up any memories other than his own on anything.

The face looking back at him in the mirror was his face -- complete with the bright yellow band of his family tattoo slashing across his nose under his eyes -- but everything else looked different. It felt strange to once again be dressed formally as a Jedi rather than wearing undercover civvies, but he knew the person he would be seeing would rather be seen with a real Jedi than some shadowy, filthy rim-dweller who hadn't had a bath in six tens.

Actually, Quinlan felt the same way, at times. Mainly when he was crashing at a flophouse with multi-legged companions in his bed.

It was near the end of the working day when he made his way to the Senate office building. He had no idea how he would be received since it had been... could it have been two years? But his news was urgent and he went anyway; they would have to put aside old enmity and Kaa might just be the topic to do it. The receptionist was new and didn't recognize him -- thank the Force.

"May I help you, Ser Jedi?"

"Knight Quinlan Vos to see Senator Bail Organa," Quinlan said with a smile.

The human female behind the desk managed to resist his charms. "Do you have an appointment?"

"No, but I don't need one. Senator Organa will see me once you tell him I'm here." Quinlan decided he'd rather not use a Force suggestion to get in but rather rely on his considerable charm to see him through. He perched one hip on the edge of her desk. "We're old friends, very old friends."

"I'm sorry, Ser Jedi, but if you don't have an appointment I can't allow you in. Senator Organa is very busy. Perhaps I could schedule you for an appointment tomorrow?" She blinked up at him, completely unfazed.

Quinlan sighed. "No, that won't be acceptable. I do need to see Senator Organa today, my dear." Quinlan raised his hand, prepared to whammy his way in, a bit unsettled that Bail wouldn't have put him on a list of People Who Should Always Be Let Into My Office. "So, in that case, I think you'll let me..."

"She'll do no such thing."

Quinlan hadn't even heard the door to the inner office open, but there was Bail, his arms crossed in front of him, glaring at Quinlan. "Do I have any further appointments today, Gayna?"

"Uh, no sir," the receptionist said, swallowing nervously as she looked between them.

"Fine. That'll be all, then. Lock the outer door as you leave, please." After glancing at his secretary, Bail turned the glare on to Quinlan. "Get in here, Vos."

Plastering a guileless face on, Quinlan hopped off the desk and sauntered into the inner sanctum of Bail Organa. It had changed since he'd last been there; there were more windows and a much bigger couch, thank goodness. The old one had been too narrow and not long enough. Still, they'd managed to have a lot of fun on that old couch, and Quinlan wondered if its absence was indicative of how their relationship would move. They'd both said things they shouldn't have when they last saw each other, and apparently Bail held a grudge from it.

Bail swept around him and sat down behind his huge desk, wordlessly indicating one of the plush chairs for Quinlan. Still smiling, Quinlan plopped down in one of them, sagging into it and enjoying the feel of the synthsilk beneath his hands and body. "Nice," Quinlan said, looking around. "You seem to have come up in the galaxy."

The glare was still there. "What do you want, Vos?"

"Is that all you can say to an old friend?" Quinlan played the wounded part but inside, he was actually feeling it, at least a little bit. He wasn't sure what kind of reception he was expecting, but this frostiness and anger was harsher than he'd hoped. "We haven't seen each other since--"

"Since just before my wedding."

Ah, yes. Bail's wedding, which was the topic of their screaming match two years before. Both of them had been hurt and both had wanted to hurt the other. "And how is the beauteous Breha these days?" It was hard to push the peevishness out of his voice, and Quinlan wasn't sure he succeeded. If Bail could be angry, then he could too.

"My wife is none of your business. And I'd like to know why you're here, wasting my time. Don't you have someone to kill?"

"Oh for... Who rammed a stick up your butt, Organa? I'm here on official Jedi business, if that makes you happier. Not that you seem to care." They glared at each other in silence for a long time, and Quinlan very carefully put aside how hurt he was that Bail would treat him so. No, they hadn't parted on the best of terms but Quinlan considered that to be water under the bridge, something that happened when Quinlan had been a new knight and Bail had been a junior senator from Alderaan.

When Bail had still been single.

His thunderous expression hardly changing, Bail finally snarled, "I can't see where the Jedi would entrust someone as unreliable as you to be a courier to the Senate."

Appalled, as appalled by how much Bail's words affected him as the words themselves, Quinlan lost his temper and with it, his composure. "Fuck you, Organa. Fuck you and the eopie you rode in on." He pushed himself to his feet. "Let me go find someone better to deliver my news, someone whom you would approve of. Of course, that means Kaa is going to probably get away, but what the hell. Better that than offend your delicate sensibilities."

He turned and had taken two steps before Bail's voice caught up with him. "Wait." Quinlan wouldn't turn, but he did stop. "I'm sorry. That was uncalled for." Bail's voice sounded weary and frustrated and Quinlan wished they could still have the easy camaraderie they used to have.

"Yeah, you're right. It was." Quinlan finally turned. "Especially after the history we have."

"Our illustrious history? Tell me, what was more notable about our history: the screaming match after I became engaged or the time when we tried to kill each other?" Bail stood and walked around his desk. For the first time, Quinlan noticed the dark circles under his eyes and the gray in his skin.

"You look like shit, Bail," he said, aloud to his surprise.

"Thanks ever so." Bail walked over to a huge built-in bookcase and opened a small coldbox cleverly set into the base of it. He pulled out two bottles and tossed one to Quinlan. "It's not the rotgut you prefer but it'll do."

There were two chairs facing the huge sofa and between them was a small table. Bail sat in one of the chairs and Quinlan perched on the edge of the sofa, still wary of this stranger who had taken the place of a man he used to love.

"Our history. Why the hell would you pick this time to remind me of that?" Bail popped open the bottle and took a long, thirsty swig. It didn't help him, if his expression was anything to go on. He wouldn't meet Quinlan's eyes.

"I don't pick my time, the bad guys do that for me," Quinlan replied. He mirrored Bail in taking a drink. "Hey, this is good."

"Glad you approve. I thought your almighty Force was what did the picking for you." Bail's voice carried a bitterness that Quinlan thought he almost understood.

Instead of replying, Quinlan stayed silent. After a while, Bail looked up and met his eyes and Quinlan's anger melted like snow on Tatooine. "What's going on, Bail?" he asked softly.

Bail studied him in silence for a long time before his face crumpled and he spoke. "It's... it's Breha. She's had five miscarriages in the last year and no one knows why." Bail took another swig. Instead of feeling anger at the mention of the woman who had supplanted him, Quinlan was surprised to feel only sorrow. "I just got back from home yesterday, she'd had another. When she's... more stable, she's coming to Coruscant and we'll make the rounds of doctors here."

Quinlan had never liked Breha. He had always considered her to be a status-seeking, indolent, useless toy of a woman who had set her sights on Bail because he was Viceroy and senator and would probably go higher than that.

Of course, he could be prejudiced.

Regardless, Bail was obviously devastated and it wasn't the right time to gloat. "I'm sorry, Bail," he said softly after a moment. "It must be horrible for you. I know how much you've always wanted younglings."

Bail swallowed more of his ale. "What, no platitudes about the Force willing it?" he asked. His voice was bitter and his face was bleak.

"No, no platitudes. If the Force willed something like that then the Force isn't playing you with a full deck, is it?" He sighed. "And that doesn't let you off the hook. I didn't deserve that kind of greeting, no matter what's happening in your life."

"Now I know you're Quinlan Vos." Bail chuckled grimly. "It's all about you, always. What have you come to tell me, anyway? I heard you mention that waste of air, Kaa. Do you finally have real evidence on him?"

Glares had always been ineffectual against Bail Organa. "Yeah." Quinlan pulled his datapad out and pulled up the relevant information before passing it to Bail. "Plascrete solid. We're going to have to move fast, though, because my sources think he may go spare on us. You've got full backing of the Council for whatever you decide to do."

The room was silent while Bail read over the contents of the datacrystal Ben and Kellin had given Quinlan. After a long moment, Bail looked up. "This is almost too good. Who are your sources?"

"I couldn't tell you that even in bed," Quinlan replied. "The evidence is solid enough to arrest the scum, you shouldn't need anything more."

"Yes, it certainly seems to be. I can ask judiciary to have him brought in for the evening." With no more than that, Bail rose and moved to his desk.

Watching Bail work, Quinlan settled back on the couch and drank his ale. It brought a lot of memory back as he watched and listened to the master strategist as he laid his plans. It was one of the things he loved most about Bail, the ability he had to make up his mind and act, almost instantly. Bail had a strong Force aura and relied on the Force far more than he thought, not that he liked to admit to that. Those reasons were why he'd brought the data on Kaa to Bail, and not directly to the Office of Internal Security. Well, that and the fact that neither of them liked Kaa from long knowledge of the man.

In the two years since Quinlan had seen Bail, he had been wandering, working undercover, training a padawan, going on missions, being a Jedi. There were many times when being a Jedi was what he least wanted in the universe, since it meant he didn't have the right to do anything or see anyone outside the Temple without the say-so of the Council. But he had always thought Bail knew and understood that.

When Qui-Gon Jinn had 'died' and Obi-Wan Kenobi had disappeared, he had raged, angry that two of his best friends could simply fade away without anyone marking the occurrence and not caring that his anger would not be released. Then a year later, he had been ambushed by two men who wore civilian clothes and called themselves by different names but who were the friends he missed so dearly. Knowing they were together as spouses had shocked him at first and saddened him later... he had so many regrets about Bail and Tholme and Obi-Wan and even Aayla. Any change in the way Jedi thought would be welcome in his book.

It was about half an hour before Bail rose again from his desk. "That's done. They've got him under arrest and the prelim hearing will be tomorrow." He handed the datapad back. "I've downloaded it to my set. Thanks."

"You're welcome."

With a sigh, Bail sat back in the chair opposite Quinlan again. "I had hoped to get home day after tomorrow to see if Breha is ready for Coruscant," he murmured. His drink had been sitting on the table getting warm; he picked it up, took a large swig and grimaced. "Guess I have a reprieve from that, now."

From his position, slumped on the (really comfortable) couch, Quinlan looked at Bail. His choice of words said more about his mood than anything. "If there's anything you want me to do, if there's any way I can help, will you tell me?"

Bail swallowed hard and stared at the bottle in his hands. "I don't think there's any way you could, Quin. Not unless you can do miracles."

"Fresh out, I'm afraid."

"Bang goes another Jedi illusion."

Quinlan smiled mistily -- it had been their code phrase, something to laugh about in bed, after they had become lovers and Bail discovered that even Jedi put their trousers on one leg at a time. It was a reminder at how good they had been before Breha. Before Bail discovered he wanted more from their relationship than Quinlan could, by Jedi law, give him. Before Quinlan had discovered how much being a Jedi meant to him.

Looking across the few feet that separated them, Quinlan realized the torch he'd carried for the senator from Alderaan had never died. He still had feelings -- deep feelings -- for Bail Organa, and probably always would. It was so hard to turn such passion into ordinary friendship, but Quinlan found he wanted to try.

"Have you eaten?" he asked, and Bail blinked at him.

"Eaten?"

"Yeah, you know, putting food in your mouth, chewing and swallowing--"

"No, Quin, I haven't eaten lastmeal. Wait." Bail looked around, confused. "I don't think I ate midmeal either."

"Well then. Get your comm and let's go. I'm taking you to lastmeal." Quinlan got to his feet and held out his hand to Bail.

Bail looked at the proffered hand with suspicion. "I'm not eating at the Temple or in some downlevel dive, Quin."

"Neither of those, I promise. Just a place with real food for hungry people to eat." Quinlan smiled as Bail finally reached out and took his hand. "Signal for an airtaxi?"

With a bemused expression on his face, Bail walked to his desk. "All right."

They were quiet in the taxi as they made their way to the southeast manufacturing district. When the taxi dropped them down in front of Dex's Diner, Bail looked as though he couldn't figure out what to do: laugh or cry. "What is this place?" he demanded, giving Quinlan an incredulous look.

"Don't worry, the food is excellent and the only thing alcoholic they serve is watered-down beer. C'mon." Taking Bail's arm, Quinlan tugged him inside.

The waitbot recognized him -- not a difficult feat since it was, after all, a bot and Quinlan didn't exactly look like anyone else in the diner -- and steered them to a booth by the window. From behind the counter came a roar that might have been his name; Quinlan waved towards the kitchen as he sat down.

Bail was looking around like he'd never been in any place like it in his life. "How the hell did you find this place?" He asked, as he looked at the menu displayed in the table.

"Obi-Wan brought me once, introduced me to the owner, Dex. He's a besalisk. You hear the roar as we came in? I'm pretty sure that was him."

Quinlan looked up to discover Bail studying him. "Have you heard anything from Kenobi?" he asked quietly. There was a look on his face that Quinlan didn't want to translate.

"Bail, even if I wanted to answer that question I couldn't," he replied, trying to brusquely push the topic aside. "Try the stew. He makes his own dumplings."

They ordered, the waitbot brought them something to drink, and they sat back. After a pause, Bail spoke. "How's Aayla?"

"Good. She's good. She's taking and passing her level eight finals with the usual amount of teenaged angst alongside." Quinlan took a sip of his drink. "She, uh, wanted me to say hello for her." He sighed. "Well, no, actually she said she wanted me to give you a hug from her. In that -- you remember -- that 'master you're such an idiot' tone of voice?"

Bail smiled. "Yes, I remember. Be sure to tell her I was thinking about her. She has to be what, sixteen standard now?"

"Seventeen." Quinlan felt his smile widen with pride. "She came damn close to beating me the last time we sparred, too. I saw Tholme today as well; he's spending a rotation at the Temple, teaching. He sends his regards."

"Thank him for me. I haven't seen him in ages."

By some mutual, unspoken agreement, they continued to speak of inconsequential things -- mutual friends, gossip from the Senate floor -- until the bot delivered their dinners. With his first bite, Quinlan knew Bail was hooked from the look of surprise and delight on his face. "This is good!"

Quinlan rolled his eyes. "I told you," he said, in a long-suffering tone. "You just don't trust me anymore."

The moment the words were out of his mouth he regretted them, mainly because they were true. He and Bail used to have the kind of relationship where trust was given implicitly. But Quinlan was a Jedi and Bail was a politician and while Quinlan wanted to believe that love could conquer all, their former relationship was walking, talking proof otherwise.

Hoping Bail wouldn't read as much into his statement, Quinlan put his head down and began eating with a single-minded intensity meant to dissuade any further conversation. He wasn't overly surprised when it didn't.

"I thought I would always trust you," Bail said softly. "Just as you trusted me. But you made your position clear when... during our last meeting. I think the relevant passages were something to the effect that politicians couldn't be trusted, ever."

Very carefully, Quinlan put his flatware aside. He couldn't have swallowed any more anyway. "I know what I said," he replied, equally softly. "I always thought you were the exception to the rule."

"Until Breha." Bail also put his flatware down. "I... You..." He shook his head. "You know what I wanted and it wasn't an arranged marriage, even to someone I cared for. But you made it clear where your loyalties were and I was not a factor in them."

"I thought I had no choice." Quinlan made a show of studying the cracked finish to their menu display table. "You wanted more than I thought I could ever give you. Bail, I'm a Jedi. You knew that going in."

"Yes, I did." Bail sighed. "You Jedi. If I live to be a thousand I won't understand you. Love is fine but attachments aren't? What kind of sick reasoning is that?"

"I know how you feel about it, and..." And I feel the same, now, Quinlan added to himself. But he couldn't say that, not to anyone, not until he knew whether Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon managed to prove their case to the Council, to the Jedi. To the Force.

"And?"

Quinlan risked a quick look up and what he saw on Bail's face put a lump of feeling in his throat. "Jedi must be patient, above anything else," he finally said, watching Bail's brow furrow as he did. "Change comes slowly to an organization that has been around for millennia, you know. But things are changing, Bail."

Bail looked utterly confused. "They are? Why? Because of the Sith?" At Quinlan's shocked expression, Bail nodded. "Everyone knows in the Senate. Most think it's a pipe-dream invented by the Jedi to attain more power over the Senate but those of us with close ties to the Jedi... well, we know better." He gave Quinlan a hard stare. "Don't we?"

"Yes, you do." The entire Senate knew about the Sith? How? Did the Council know this? Well, that didn't matter because they were going to, just as soon as Quinlan could break down the doors to their chamber.

"I told you I would always support the Jedi. They were there for me when I needed them, and I will repay the favor. Always." Bail shook his head again with a sad chuckle. "I don't know how you get into me so easily, even after two years. You still know which buttons to push in me."

"It's because I still love you," Quinlan said, so softly he could imagine Bail couldn't make the words out.

Bail heard. He swallowed hard and picked up his utensils before murmuring, "I've never stopped loving you."

There was nothing to say to that. Quinlan began eating again, mechanically, not even tasting the food. Just before they were finished, Bail's comm chimed. Quinlan always had extremely good hearing so by the time Bail finished with the call, there was an airtaxi waiting for them just outside.

"I'm coming with you," Quinlan said firmly, as he paid in a hurry.

"I'm not going to argue. I just hope we can catch that gundark-bait before he goes to ground." They piled into the airtaxi and told the bot to hurry. "How could he have escaped?"

Quinlan had some very sour thoughts about that, but he chose to wait and see.

It was long on the wrong side of the middle of the night, but Tholme looked as though he had been taking his ease on a pleasure planet. He always looked so no matter what and it had always irritated Quinlan. "I take it you have good news?" he asked.

Quinlan was more than exhausted; he was filthy and bruised and bloody and extremely pissed off, as well. "No. Well, yes and no. The bastard's dead, but we still don't know how he escaped or who killed him."

"Then why do you look as though you've been dragged through a sewage pipe the wrong way?"

"Well it wasn't a sewage pipe but... never mind. Close enough to true." Quinlan raked his hair back from his face, grimacing as his fingers met something slimy. "We were led on a merry chase halfway round the planet before we finally figured out it was all for show."

"Were you able to read anything from the body? Or anything on it?" Tholme asked, his voice grave. He knew how much it cost Quinlan to make psychometric readings.

"Nothing. It was burned almost beyond recognition and then dumped -- by droids, we're fairly certain. Someone wanted Kaa dead and didn't mind how much credit he spent to make sure it happened." Quinlan looked around quickly -- Bail wasn't within earshot -- before continuing in a lower voice. "Also, it seems that 'everyone' in the Senate knows about the Sith Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan fought on Naboo."

Tholme was silent, obviously shocked. When he looked back up at Quinlan's image, Quinlan could tell they'd come to the same logical conclusions. "This does not sound good, Padawan."

"No, I think not, Master. Can you find a way to contact our two favorite spies and let them know? I think they'll need the information."

"I'll do my best. I'll also let the Council know. Try to be back here after firstmeal, Quin."

"Wha--" Before he could speak the question, Tholme had broken the connection. Quinlan rubbed his forehead in frustration with his master, then winced; there was a medium-sized cut just under his hairline. All he really wanted now was a bed in which to fall, not to have to apply bandages to himself, much less shower, however much he needed it.

"Quit that, you'll open it back up." Bail came into the room carrying a small med kit. They were in yet another part of Bail's office, a small apartment that contained a bedroom, 'fresher and small kitchenette and Quinlan wondered in passing who Bail had killed in order to get such luxurious rooms. Bail had a towel around his waist and was still damp. He'd looked almost as bad as Quinlan did, except without the cuts and bruises, before his shower; now he looked edible and Quinlan had to look away. "Get a shower, your face needs to be disinfected. Hell, all of you needs disinfectant," Bail said, thankfully not noticing Quinlan's distraction.

Quinlan tried to brush Bail's concern away. "Laugh it up; you smelled at least as bad as I did."

"I wasn't the one with a dislocated shoulder. Or the one with plastic splinters in my face."

Wincing, Quinlan rubbed at his shoulder. "I'm fine. I need to get back to the Temple and get a shower."

"You can use the one here." Bail was busy with a med kit in order to avoid looking directly into Quinlan's eyes, but he had never been one to successfully hide his emotions -- at least from Quinlan. "If you're worried about your clothes, I can loan you a set to change into."

"Bail."

"Go on. Just go. You can't go back to the Temple looking like that."

With severe reservations (and more relief), Quinlan went into the small 'fresher. There were clean towels and ample hot water and soap, but he still hurried, still hoped to avoid a scene. He re-wrapped his hands and forearms with the dirty cloth even before he began to dry himself; he was too afraid the towels carried information he wouldn't want to feel.

When he came out, toweling his hair and with another towel around his waist, Bail was waiting for him with antiseptic and bandages. Quinlan let Bail paint his face with antiseptic before speaking. "Bail, we need to talk. And I need to go. And..."

Abruptly turning away, Bail pulled a bandage from the box and measured out a length. "Stop. Don't say it. You don't have to leave."

"Yes, I do. You don't want me here tonight."

Putting down the bandage and the scissors, Bail's shoulders slumped. Still turned away from Quinlan, he said, "But, you see, I do. We said some terrible things to each other the last time we were together, Quin. I've thought about them frequently, in fact. Whenever I do, I seem to feel remorse or fury in five nano microbursts." He picked at the bandage but still didn't turn. "If we were going to end, that's not the way we should have done it."

So this is what attachment feels like, for all my posturing that I wouldn't, couldn't do it, Quinlan thought to himself. How did Obi-Wan stand it? Aloud, he said, "I don't do pity fucks, Bail." He tried to make it sound harsh, tried to make it seem as though he didn't care, but it must not have worked.

"That's good, because I don't either." Bail finally turned around, the bandage held out to go over the cut above Quinlan's left eye. His face was impassive but there were shadows in his eyes that Quinlan didn't want to think about.

Quinlan let himself be bandaged and then caught Bail's arm as he was turning away. "Did... Has Breha ever been in here? For that matter, has anyone? And why do you have..."

"It's a... like an emergency flop, and only that, Quin." Bail gently extricated himself from Quinlan's grasp and began putting the small box back to order. "I've only used it a few times myself, mostly when I worked far too late in the evening and didn't want to bother going back to the apartment. No one else has, ever." Closing the lid of the box firmly, Bail added, "You won't be able to pick up on anyone else but me, I guarantee it."

"That's not so much why--"

"Look. You don't have to--"

Whatever Bail was going to say was cut off by Quinlan's lips coming down on his.

It had been two years but it might as well have been yesterday; the taste of Bail on Quinlan's lips and the feel of Bail under Quinlan's fingers was that familiar, that sought. They were of a height and Quinlan had almost forgotten what it was like to have a lover the same height he was, how easy it was to just tilt your head and open your mouth and dive in.

He had also nearly forgotten what it was like to have Bail's hands in his messy hair. Bail had always loved his hair, had played with it and pulled it and even brushed it, once, though neither of them had enjoyed that -- Quinlan's hair wasn't comfortable with being brushed. But when Bail shoved both hands into Quinlan's hair and tugged, pulled the man closer (not that they could get closer without melting into each other), Quinlan's body remembered.

With a gasp, Bail broke the kiss. Quinlan opened his eyes to see Bail staring at him, those rich, brown eyes carrying lust and passion and sorrow and regret. Bail leaned in and delicately lipped Quinlan's face, tracing the outline of the family tattoo with his tongue. "I'd forgotten what you tasted like," he murmured.

Quinlan's voice was as rough as Bail's. "I'd almost forgotten what you felt like."

"Drop the towel."

"As you wish, Senator," Quinlan replied, and Bail swallowed a chuckle. The sad smile told Quinlan he remembered where and when those words had been first spoken.

They crashed into each other, that was the only way to describe how they fell on the bed. Quinlan ended up on top of Bail, looking down at the man who once had been nearly his whole world. Bail wound his legs around Quinlan and buried his hands into Quinlan's wet hair, still kissing and stroking. He came to the arm wraps and paused.

"Take them off, Quin," he said softly.

"I..." Quinlan couldn't decide which frightened him more, that he might pick up Breha's presence in the bed or that Bail would have lied to him about Breha not having been there.

Bail lifted his head and delicately kissed the edge of Quinlan's mouth. "It's all right. Take them off."

Rolling to the side, still looking at Bail, Quinlan pulled the wraps off his arms. Immediately, Bail turned so that he could roll on top of Quinlan, straddling his hips, not quite putting his full body-weight on top of him before scattering little kisses all over his face. "Gods but I've missed you. It's been so long..."

Then they kissed, hard and wet and nasty, just the way it had always been and the years seemed to roll back. Sex to them had always been like a competition -- who could make the other come first, who would get to be on the bottom, how many dangerous places could they find to fuck. It had always been like that for them... only rarely was tenderness allowed. Quinlan fleetingly wondered if Breha liked it as rough, then pushed the thought out of his mind.

He rolled them again, biting Bail's shoulder as he did and trapping Bail's legs within his own. They ground themselves together and Bail's leaking erection slipped between Quinlan's cheeks to dig against his hole.

Quinlan would have liked nothing more than to just push down on that hard cock, taking it unlubricated into his body, feeling the burn of it all the way inside. But Bail gasped then heaved, turning them again.

"No... no..." Bail arched and groaned as Quinlan bit one of his nipples. "Need you inside me, please, have to..."

"Bail..."

"Please. Please, Quin." They were both so close that a breath of wind would have tumbled them over the precipice, but Quinlan held back, tugged sharply on his balls and Bail's to derail the orgasm so close for them. He pulled back enough for Bail to roll over, then called one of the bed pillows to his hand, meaning to tuck it under Bail's hips but...

...anguish, pain, anguish, sorrow, what must it be like for her, another loss, more pain, anguish, should just stop, think of her, why was this happening, isn't there any way around it, anguish, pain...

Quinlan gasped and dropped the pillow, closing his eyes at the nearly overwhelming agony hidden in the innocent-looking object. Bail's pain, Bail's soul-ripping torture over losing another incipient child. Swallowing, Quinlan rested his forehead on Bail's back, letting his arms come around to hold and to squeeze. "Force, Bail," he murmured. "I'm so godsdamned sorry."

It took Bail a few seconds to realize what had happened, then his body tensed. "Quin..."

"No, it's all right, wait..." Steeling himself, Quinlan snatched the pillow and quickly shoved it under Bail's hips. "Where..."

"In the table on the left," Bail whispered back, arranging himself more comfortably as Quinlan found the lubricant... a small tube, hardly used. It carried the signature of Bail using it to pleasure himself, though the masturbation memory didn't feel happy, didn't seem to accomplish anything but to help Bail sleep. Quinlan's heart broke open just a bit more. How could he have been angry at this man?

The readings slowed Quinlan, pulled him back from the edge so that he was able to take his time. He used lots of the lubricant in the tube, pushed it in with his fingers -- two of them or three, knotted together -- until Bail was nice and loose and begging incoherently. Then he situated himself behind Bail and pressed in, closing his eyes and trying to pretend it was not for the last time, that it was like he'd always wanted them to be, the way Bail had always wanted them to be. The way Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan were. Together.

Bail was moaning, gasping and trying to lunge back, prevented from doing so by Quinlan's hands on his hips. Quinlan was caught between heaven and hell, trying hard to control himself and not just bang into Bail, thrust and thrust until they both dropped over the edge.

Finally, when he was too close and knew that Bail was almost there as well, he tugged and pulled Bail upright, impaled, and wrapped his arms around the man. Bail's head dropped on Quinlan's shoulder and Quinlan bent his head to kiss and nuzzle Bail's neck. As he squeezed his slippery hand around Bail's cock, Quinlan gave one last lunge and then he was coming, making absurd noises and feeling his brain dribbling out his ears.

They must have collapsed to the side -- it was a good thing the bed was large, Quinlan caught himself thinking. He was nestled up against Bail and they were both sweaty, sticky messes. Bail's head was resting on Quinlan's upper arm, right over the tattoo, causing his still-aching shoulder to cramp, and it didn't take long for Quinlan to figure out the hot moisture he felt on Bail's face wasn't sweat.

The Beginning of the End:

Master Tholme bowed his visitor into his quarters. "Bail. It's been a long time, my friend."

Bail pulled Tholme into a brief hug. "Yes, it has. Master Yoda, it's good to see you again. Mace."

They all smiled and bowed before taking their seats. Bail began with no preamble; he knew everyone in the room was aware of why he was there. "The Chancellor is calling for an investigation into the death of Kaa. He's demanding to know the Jedi sources for the information that caused me to have the idiot arrested. It doesn't make sense -- everyone knew Kaa was for hire, no one trusted the little gundark, and instead of calling for a hearing, we should be partying at his death." Bail shook his head and sighed. He had the fleeting wish that Quinlan were in the room too, but at the same time, he was afraid it would hurt both of them too much to see each other.

Mace and Tholme exchanged disgusted glances before Mace spoke. "Bail, we can't divulge the identity of our sources, you know that. They would become compromised."

"I know that, and I'm sure he knows that as well. But..." Bail spread his hands and made a frustrated noise. "I thought he was pro-Jedi, now I'm not so sure. You saved his home world! Why would he be coming down on the wrong side of the fence now?"

"More here than meets the eye, there is," Yoda said quietly. His ears were drooping as he studied the head of his gimer stick. He did not look at anyone else.

Bail frowned then turned to Mace Windu, who was frowning at the floor. "Mace? Tholme? What's going on?"

It was quite a while before anyone answered Bail's question, but Bail was determined to wait them out. Finally, Mace sighed and looked up. "I could tell you everything but not even I understand it fully, and what you don't know can't cause you to be hurt." He rubbed his bald head. "There's been a weakening in the Force, Bail. We're not sure what's causing it or even if it could be caused by outside forces."

Profoundly shocked and frightened in ways that he didn't care to think about, Bail said, "How is this possible? I... I don't... I didn't know it could happen."

"Neither did we," Tholme said. "Nor are we sure that what is happening in the Senate has anything to do with it."

"This changes everything," Bail muttered. With a sudden thought, he looked up directly at Yoda. "Could it be related to the rumors about the Sith? That is what Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan fought on Naboo, yes?"

Yoda didn't even blink before he spoke. "Perhaps. Hard to see, the Dark Side is."

After a couple of uncomfortable moments, Mace spoke again. "We're going to have to refuse the Chancellor's request, Bail. Do you think there is any way to do it without incurring the anger of every other being in the Senate?"

Bail sighed. "There are those of us who will always stand behind the Jedi, Mace. Myself, of course, Mon Mothma, Giddean Danu, many others. We understand how much the Jedi do and give up for the benefit of the entire Republic. There are, however, those who will never be for the Jedi because they hate the fact that the Jedi keep them from doing whatever the hell they want to do. I think we all know who those are."

Everyone but Yoda nodded; yes, they all knew the malcontents.

"Will our allies be sufficient?" Mace asked. "Or do you think we're looking at a forced retreat from the Republic?"

Bail was silent for a long time, thinking. "I hate this," he finally muttered. "I don't know. I truly don't know. But I will make some discreet inquiries, see if I can find out which way the wind is blowing."

"It would be appreciated," Mace said, nodding. "In the meantime, we'll draft a response to the Chancellor."

"Anger him, we will, no matter what is written," Yoda said quietly. Everyone nodded without speaking. There was little doubt of that. "Blow, the winds of change do," Yoda said after a long pause. "For good or ill, a new morning dawns."

Bail stared at Yoda; after a moment, he realized he wasn't the only one. "Master Yoda?" Tholme finally said. But Yoda's eyes were closed and he clearly wasn't listening.

They had discovered their connection to the Force was several orders of magnitude better if they meditated within it while joined. After they had stolen their ship (which thereafter became the Hope) and modified it, they would spend hours in the one remaining basking tank, wearing their rebreathers, joined to one another. The Force seemed very close to them in those times, wandering around their bodies, flowing into and out of each of them as they did to each other.

Ben found Kellin's almost insatiable desire for sex to be vastly amusing. It was almost as if the man felt he had thirty-odd years of celibacy to make up for and intended on compressing it into however many years he had left. Ben wasn't complaining, especially since Kellin loved to be on the bottom and Ben loved to be on the top. Most of the time.

They were floating in the basking tank now, and Ben was buried deeply inside Kellin. The jets in the tank were set to low and they allowed the currents in the water to move them around at random. It was much better than thrusting because they never knew what would happen and it kept their arousal at a low simmer. The only thing bad about it was they couldn't kiss through the rebreathers, but they allowed their fingers to take the place of lips.

Back to front they floated, Kellin's long back plastered to Ben's front. Ben let his hands wander around Kellin's chest, caressing well-defined muscles and occasionally gently tweaking a nipple. Kellin's hands were on Ben's hips, pulling them as close as was physically possible.

Since it was a basking tank, they basked. In each other, in the Force, it didn't matter.

Ben's eyes were closed and he was concentrating on the flesh and muscle under his hands when that muscle tensed. Their connection was such that they almost always knew what the other was thinking, through they had no true telepathy. Kellin tensed and Ben allowed his attention to expand where he was immediately aware of the reason for Kellin's reaction. The lines of the Force were undulating, straightening and untangling in one direction. If Ben closed his eyes and concentrated, he could see the threads spin out and coalesce into one grand whole. But there was a red thread winding through the beauty of blue and green and yellow and purple, trying to subvert the whole into itself, and that's what Kellin felt.

Kellin took one of Ben's hands and stretched it out, let it play among the colors. Ben then wrapped several strands around his hands and brought them down to Kellin's body, where he used them to caress Kellin's erection, straining out from his body. At the one touch, Kellin convulsed and came, his seed mingling with the water that caressed their bodies. His climax forced Ben's and with their shared orgasm, the Force gave them a brief vision of all the possible futures and what they might mean.

After they had calmed, they broke apart and moved to the ladder which would take them out of the tank. There were huge, warmed towels waiting for them and a large, comfortable bed as well. They were still silent, not willing yet to talk about their shared vision. Instead, they went about their evening routines, a comfortable dance where the steps were well-rehearsed and known.

Finally, they were in bed. Kellin wrapped his long frame around Ben from behind and Ben snuggled back into his lover. There was a small, multi-colored nightlight on the shelf above their heads and it was the only light in the room.

Just before sleep claimed him, Ben whispered, "It's coming."

He felt Kellin's nod of agreement. "The pieces are all in place, now," Kellin said. "The game has started."

"But who will win?" Ben wasn't even sure he asked that question aloud, as the next instant, he was asleep, safe in the arms of the one he loved above all others.

The End of the Beginning:

Anakin looked up as someone sat at the same library table, opposite his seat. It was a Twi'lek girl he didn't recognize who gave him a big smile. "You're Anakin Skywalker, aren't you?" she asked.

With what had become his customary suspicion -- no one really wanted to talk to him, make friends with him -- Anakin nodded slowly. "Yeah..."

"Oh good. I've been looking for you." She had a stack of datapads which she spread out on the table between them. "I was hoping I could persuade you to tutor me in my mechanics class." She pushed her lekku over the back of the chair on which she sat. "My master said you were just about the best, and Force but I need help."

Anakin blinked in surprise. "Your master said that? Who...?"

"Oh! I'm sorry. I do that sometimes, get carried away. I'm Aayla Secura. My master is the best there is, Quinlan Vos; well, the best unless he's being an idiot." She leaned forward and dropped her voice. "We've got a... mutual friend. His name's Ben; do you know him?"

His jaw dropping in astonishment, Anakin hissed, "You know him?"

"Well, sorta," Aayla kept her voice down too. "Master knows him. That's how I came to be here. I just took my level eights and my scores on mechanics were... I mean, ugh. I passed and all, but I am just not mechanically inclined and I know I won't pass my nines without help or maybe a brain transplant."

She was funny and pretty and she actually seemed to like him, and Anakin was immediately smitten. "Uh, sure! I can help you. But I've barely got to level four..."

"Doesn't matter." She rolled her eyes. "You're good at what you're good at. I mean, if you needed to pass level ten something-or-other and the resident genius in it was, say, four standard, you'd still go to her. You see what I mean?" She was very earnest as she made her point. "We're Jedi, for pity's sake. Egalitarian is supposed to be our middle name."

"What is supposed to be our middle name?" Anakin was lost.

She giggled. "I'll explain it if you'll help me out...?"

Her smile was infectious and Anakin caught it. "I can do that. Hey, are you any good at the history of the Republic and the Articles of Confederation?"

If anything, she grinned even wider. "Do I know? Oh yeah, though there are times I wish I didn't. I got that drummed into my head early and it never left. It is such a bore." She stuck her hand out across the table. "You help me and I help you. Deal?"

Anakin took her hand and pumped it once. "Deal." Maybe he actually had a friend, now. What a concept!

"Hey, what's that?" Aayla pointed to the charm that peeked out of Anakin's tunic.

Wary again, Anakin fingered it. "It's a holocharm," he said. "Master Adi gave me to me."

"What's in it? Can I see?"

Aayla seemed genuinely curious and not censuring, so Anakin pulled it off the clip that attached it to his inner tunic. "It's got pictures. See?" He opened the charm and showed Aayla the two pictures inside.

"Oh, that's pretty! Who are they?"

"Umm..." This was where Anakin usually was made to feel worse. "That's my mom, and that's Padme, I mean, Queen Amidala. Of Naboo." Looking at Padme's picture always made Anakin yearn for her.

"Oh, that's right, I'd forgotten. You were lucky and didn't grow up in the Temple." She was studying the pictures so didn't see Anakin's look of shock. "They're both really beautiful. It must be nice to remember your mom, I don't really remember mine at all."

"I thought... I thought it was better to grow up in the Temple," he said. At least, that's what everyone always said to him... Anakin, you wouldn't understand, you didn't grow up in the Temple or Of course you're behind, you didn't grow up the right way or other words to that effect.

Aayla just shrugged, as if it truly made no difference. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe we all want what we don't have." She looked up at him again, and her face was kind. Anakin relaxed. "I think it might have been better for me... I've met others in my clan and let me tell you..." she shuddered. "I think I'm much happier having half a galaxy between me and them!"

Anakin laughed with her, feeling comfortable in the Temple for just about the first time since he had arrived. Maybe he could make this Jedi stuff work after all.

end (for now)