Master Apprentice Archive Juncture Quick search:

Juncture

by Amberlee ( amberleewriter@yahoo.com )

Archive: MA, Bail Now, and my home page only

Category: Obi/Bail

Rating: NC-17

Spoilers: I can't see how they are spoilers at this late date but the entire plot of TMP is "spoiled" by the end.

Summary: Four years have passed since Bail and Obi-Wan's first meeting. Will the secret torch Bail has carried for Obi-Wan all these years finally be lit when Obi-Wan pays him a late night visit?

Feedback: I'm not a junkie for it, but if you feel inclined to send it I'm not averse. I do my best to respond to every email I receive.

Disclaimer: Lucas owns the characters and I'm not making a dime for my research or my flights of fancy where these characters are concerned.

Notes: Juncture is a follow-up story to Echo and is the second of seven stories in an arc that explores the friendship and romance between Bail Organa and Obi-Wan Kenobi. It can be read alone but is enhanced by reading it as part of the group.

Thanks: For good or ill, Myrrh is to blame for every bit of Bail fic that I write. Rita, Clara Swift, and Lori are all the reason I finally stopped lurking and put these stories out to archive almost two years after they were first written. Sar and Platinum Anguish (among others) get a nod for being supportive friends that allow me to be Bail obsessed without fear. Lori gets a special shout-out for looking over the original of Juncture and offering suggestions that, hopefully, make it a better story.

Part One

Bail Organa pushed himself away from the uwa wood desk with a sigh. Having the ornate thing brought from the family home on Alderaan to his apartment on Coruscant had been expensive but worth the price. For Bail, it was a constant reminder of his responsibilities and the people he served. It gave him an anchor in the impersonal and often superficial political world that had become his life.

Leaning back in his chair, he pressed his thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose in an effort to ease his headache. His two scheduled meetings had run late forcing him to cancel a dinner date and evening at the opera. Escalation of the taxation dispute between the Trade Federation and the Republic ensured almost daily meetings that drained Bail's energy and resolved absolutely nothing. The few days that the Senate did not meet Bail spent shuttling between his contacts in the Trade Federation and the Chancellor's office in an effort to defuse the situation. The state of affairs meant that he had to work on his pet projects outside the office. He had spent the last two standard hours going over reports from his sister, Celly, regarding the refugee situation on the outer rim.

In his years as a Junior Senator from Alderaan, Bail Organa had managed to gracefully maneuver himself into a subtle position of power. His involvement in the negotiations with the Tanthal Alliance, and the subsequent attack on the delegation at Rhen Var, had afforded Bail a unique opportunity -- they gave him a perfect reason to tone down his public image. While he still courted the press and made sure to be seen in the right places, he gradually shifted the types of events and locations to those of a more mature and serious minded man. Gone were the days of photo ops at the hottest night clubs; they had been replaced by afternoons assisting his sister at Refugee Relocation Centers or speaking to school children about government and politics. When he was seen out in the evenings it was usually at a fundraiser instead of an expensive restaurant. Even his attire had changed. Bail now chose less flashy designs -- conservative cuts and rich but subdued colors -- to reflect his new and more restrained persona. He had even taken to growing facial hair in an effort to add a distinguished hint of age to his otherwise youthful face. Celly laughingly said that it didn't fool anyone, but Bail though it made him look debonair so it stayed.

Bail let a hand fall to rest on the tufted arm of his chair. Though just shy of his thirtieth birthday, he felt far older. Recent scandals regarding Chancellor Valorum and corruption of other prominent members of the Senate -- men and women he had thought of as honest and principled -- left him questioning his judgment. It seemed to him that only one person, besides his sister and his counterpart Bail Antilles, remained honorable and true to their convictions.

The thought of that person always brought smile to Bail's face. His friendship with Obi-Wan Kenobi, strangely enough, elicited many of the same feelings in him as his desk. A hand unconsciously brushed the edge of the lustrous wood as he pondered the odd relationship they shared since Rhen Var. Obi-Wan's presence in his life, while sporadic, was solid and comforting. Much as the investment of money to bring the desk to Coruscant had been worth it, so the time he invested in his relationship with Obi-Wan more than generated a positive return. Being in the presence of the Jedi always left him humbled and rejuvenated. Bail knew that Obi-Wan would never offer platitudes, would never try to flatter him, and would never want anything in return for the friendship they shared. That knowledge grounded Bail -- anchored him in the maelstrom of political intrigue just as the desk anchored him to his memories of home.

Obi-Wan and his Master, Qui-Gon Jinn, were often called upon by the Jedi Council to undertake off-world missions. They were rarely on Coruscant for long. However, when he was, Obi-Wan immediately contacted Bail's office to confirm their standing lunch date. Their first had been only a few days after the return from Rhen Var and had begun as an early morning tour of the Jedi Temple. When Bail had suggested they have lunch somewhere "not so formal," Obi-Wan had taken him to a strange little place called Didi's cafe in Coco Town. It certainly had fit Bail's description with regard to informality, but was far from what the Prince had envisioned.

It was obvious Obi-Wan had been to the greasy-spoon diner frequently and he ordered for them both. It was there, in a booth next to the windows, that Bail had seen Obi-Wan do something that stopped his heart.

Obi-Wan had smiled.

The memory of the moment still made Bail weak in the knees. It was the first time Bail had ever seen Obi-Wan look completely relaxed and unguarded. The Padawan's face had lit from within, his eyes shining bright green with mischief. The man had radiated some indefinable something as brightly as the lightsaber he carried. In that moment Bail saw inside Obi-Wan, into the pure earnest heart that devoted himself so utterly to his Master, the Order, and the Force. He realized there in that cafe that, no matter how things played out, he would likely always be in love with Obi-Wan Kenobi and he would never forget the moment of epiphany.

He would also never forget the moment he first ate a "slider." Certainly, his body had not allowed him to forget it for most of the next day.

In spite of the fact that Bail had required medication and recuperation after his meal there, he insisted on meeting Obi-Wan at Didi's when the Padawan commed him several months later. Obi-Wan had seemed surprised at the request, but quickly agreed and thus began their standing lunch dates. Bail had returned from that second meeting and instructed the junior intern in charge of his appointment calendar to block off three hours every fourth day of the week for a lunch meeting, no exceptions.

In all honesty, the times when Bail and Obi-Wan managed to meet at the cafe during the first standard year of their friendship were few and far between. Bail could count them on both hands. While it disappointed him, he never mentioned it. Obi-Wan was a Jedi -- a Jedi Padawan at that -- and his life was not his own. Bail understood that better than many ever could. When the Jedi had ruled in favor of house Organa, and Bail's father had assumed the title of Viceroy in trust, it had ended forever his carefree days. Bail sometimes wondered what might have been had the ascension passed over his house, but it was pointless to do so. As Prince and heir designate, Bail had been given many advantages that balanced out the lack of anonymity and the high expectations. Bail loved his work and was happy to fulfill his duty as a servant of the people of Alderaan. He knew that Obi-Wan felt much the same about his commitment to the Jedi.

It was during the second year of their friendship that they began to see each other more frequently. Obi-Wan's assignments that year kept him on Coruscant with more regularity. Periodically, Bail would invite Obi-Wan to join him for dinner and it was rare for the Padawan to refuse. Their discussions were lively and enjoyable. The bond between them was comfortable and familiar. Though they never discussed the matter, the reality was that they were dating. Sometimes, over dinner, Bail thought to broach the subject of where the relationship was going, but the few evenings they spent together always seemed to end without the topic coming up. And, though Bail had the distinct impression that Obi-Wan often wanted to kiss him goodnight, the Padawan never did. Instead, he simply smiled, folded his hands into his robes, and said, "Will I see you at Didi's next week?"

On those evenings, Bail went home and took long cold showers before bed.

The third year had been the hardest for Bail. He gradually convinced himself that anything more than friendship with Obi-Wan wasn't meant to be. It made him heartsick, but the thought of losing Obi-Wan's friendship was even more devastating than the idea that the relationship might never take a romantic turn. Their lunches and evenings out that year were infrequent. The Jedi Council sent Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon on several long off-world missions. When Obi-Wan did return to Coruscant, he seemed distant and distracted. When Bail asked Obi-Wan about it, the Padawan was reticent to discuss it. He simply said, "It was a long mission, Bail. I would rather not talk about it. Tell me what you've been doing while I was away."

Now, over the last several months, Bail had begun going out with the sister of a colleague, Breha Merian, in an effort to put his feelings for Obi-Wan behind him. His sister, Tia, had pointedly reminded Bail that their father wouldn't live forever and that the last thing Alderaan needed was another dispute regarding ascension. Marriage was an obligation of his position that Bail was reluctant to fulfill for several reasons, but Tia did have a point. Breha was pleasant, beautiful, intelligent, and a recently appointed intern in the Ministry of Education. She came from a good family, was a strong supporter of many of Bail's political concerns, and she adored children.

She was the dinner date he had been forced to cancel.

Bail sighed. He opened his eyes and looked at the stack of datapads on the desk. He rubbed his face and decided they would have to keep. There was only so much one man could manage in a day and he was well past his limit. He had an early meeting with his counterpart, Bail Antilles. Time to call it a night.

He was just about to get up from his desk when a soft chime sounded. Bail activated a vidscreen next to his desk and punched in the code for the security camera. What he saw made him blink: the dark brown robe of a Jedi. The figured lowered the hood to reveal a face.

Bail pressed the comm button. "I'll be right there."

The figure folded its arms in its sleeves and nodded.

Bail left his study and moved through the living area of his apartment. He palmed the panel to disengage the security system and the door opened. Obi-Wan Kenobi quietly stepped inside and Bail reactivated the alarms as soon as the door slid shut.

"I apologize for my late visit. I would have commed, but I'm afraid it wasn't an option."

"It's all right. I was up reading." Unsure what the visit was about, Bail studied Obi-Wan's face. He looked tired. "What can I do for you?"

Obi-Wan stuffed his hands back into his sleeves. He seemed uncomfortable. "I came to tell you that I won't be able to make our lunch at Didi's."

"Oh?" Bail blinked. This was why Obi-Wan had come all the way to his apartment? Why not simply contact his office? Why not comm to say he wouldn't be there? Suddenly, Bail realized he was being dense. "Oh! They've assigned you another mission already?"

Obi-Wan didn't respond in any way. Something was up. The Jedi and his Master had returned to Coruscant only a scant few days ago. Bail had gotten his hands on one of the classified reports and knew that it had been a disaster. Normally, when Obi-Wan returned from a failed mission he and his Master were kept on planet for several weeks before being assigned something new. Why would the Council be sending this pair out again so soon?

Bail took a step closer, looking for some kind of confirmation in the Jedi's face. There was nothing in Obi-Wan's expression except weariness and tension. Yet, Obi-Wan was here, standing in his apartment. Never in the four years they had known each other had Obi-Wan come to Bail's apartment. Bail had never had the courage to ask. Every way he'd ever thought of asking just sounded like a line. Of course it would have been a line, but that was beside the point. He didn't even know Obi-Wan knew where he lived or what his apartment number was.

"You said you couldn't comm. Did they assign you a priority mission?"

Obi-Wan shifted slightly but still said nothing.

The lack of response was all Bail's mind needed to kick into high gear. He mentally flipped through all the left-handed classified information he'd received over the last few weeks as tensions between the Republic and the Trade Federation continued to soar. His meeting with aides in the Federation camp two days ago had made him privy to the fact that they had begun their threatened blockade of Naboo. A contact close to the Supreme Chancellor, Senator Palpatine, had quietly spilled over drinks that Valorum was reluctant to see the matter put before the Senate and wanted a settlement reached. It all clicked into place.

"You're being sent to Naboo for Chancellor Valorum."

Obi-Wan's expression betrayed a bit of surprise.

"Jedi aren't the only ones with access to information, Obi-Wan." Bail couldn't help but smile in satisfaction. "You'd be surprised how much I know."

"Bail, no one can know that Qui-Gon and I have left Coruscant. It's vital that this not leak to the Senate." Obi-Wan's face was stern and his voice insistent.

"Then why did you come here?"

Obi-Wan blinked. His expression shifted to one of consternation. After a moments hesitation he finally said, "I didn't want you to think I stood you up."

Bail didn't try to hide the confusion he felt. Why would Obi-Wan give an answer like that? Surely, he knew Bail would understand if he didn't show at Didi's? Of course, he would be disappointed but...

Bail took a chance and stepped closer. Obi-Wan held his ground but didn't reply. He just stood there with his hands folded in his robes, staring, as Bail continued to advance on him. In seconds little more than millimeters separated the pair. Bail watched as Obi-Wan's eyes shifted in that chameleon-like way from green to gray he found so intriguing.

"That's not really why you're here, is it?"

Bail Organa didn't need to be Force sensitive to feel the tension in Obi-Wan's body. He was fairly certain that the Jedi had his hands in his sleeves because they were shaking. He couldn't believe it. He'd been blind. He could read between the lines of a brief or communique to find the truth by noticing what hadn't been written. He could tell if an aide or Senator were lying from body language or word selection. He could slip through the murky waters of Galactic politics and never be lost but here, right now, he realized that he had been complete idiot. For four long years, he'd been a total fool.

"All this time, I thought..." Reaching up, Bail brushed the back of his hand against Obi-Wan's face. The skin felt surprisingly smooth and cool to the touch. Bail realized that he had never seen Obi-Wan with even a hint of stubble on his face. It made Obi-Wan look so young -- so boyish and innocent -- and Bail marveled at it. He could feel Obi-Wan shudder slightly at the touch and watched as the expressive eyes shifted color again, taking on a hint of blue. "I suppose it doesn't matter what I thought now, does it?"

Obi-Wan started to reply but Bail had other ideas. The hand that rested on Obi-Wan's cheek moved to the back of his head, and Bail kissed him.

For an almost heart stopping moment, Obi-Wan did nothing. He just stood there, unresponsive. Bail opened his eyes and started to pull away, wondering if he'd made a monumental mistake. Then, Obi-Wan wrapped his arms around Bail's waist and pulled him close.

Bail lost all sense of time after that.

When their lips finally parted again, Bail felt out of breath and distinctly shaky in the knees. For four years, he'd wondered what it would be like to kiss Obi-Wan Kenobi. He'd daydreamed about it. Like some silly mooneyed teen-ager he had spent long evenings imagining what the moment would be like ñ what Obi-Wan would taste like, where it would happen, how romantic it would be.

It was nothing like what he'd imagined. Nothing at all.

But then little about their relationship had ever gone the way Bail had hoped or planned. The Padawan had seemed oblivious to every attention; impervious to every compliment and overture.

Now Bail knew better. He hadn't been impervious.

Obi-Wan smiled softly, his eyes now brilliant green. "You certainly took long enough."

"I took long enough?" Bail shook his head. "And what were you waiting for, might I ask, an engraved invitation? Something along the lines of, 'To the Honorable Jedi Obi-Wan Kenobi an invitation from His Highness and Senator, Prince Bail Organa of Alderaan, requesting his presence after hours at his quarters for nefarious and lecherous events to be disclosed upon arrival?'"

"Bail..."

"Please! I've been as obvious as I knew how to be from the moment I met you! I invented research to keep you after conferences. I ordered dinners in. I took you out to some of the nicest restaurants I knew and attempted to ply you with alcohol. I even went on that boring outing to the surface of Rhen Var just so I could get your attention! Do you really think I don't have to take medication just to eat at Didi's with you every week? Are you daft?"

"Are you done?"

"No, actually I'm not!" Bail was downright petulant. "I thought you Jedi were supposed to be in touch with your Almighty Force. Does your mystical ability to sense things stop at obvious body language and overt hint dropping? What are you, some kind of idiot savant?"

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. "Are you finished now?"

"Yes," Bail replied, finally having run out of steam. "Yes, I think I'm done now."

"You're sure?"

There was something odd about Obi-Wan's tone. Bail looked in his eyes. They had shifted to a color he'd never seen before, a deep blue with a hint of green that reminded him of the sea before a storm. Bail didn't speak his reply, he just nodded slowly.

And then Obi-Wan pinned him to the wall.

Obi-Wan crushed his body to Bail's with all the force of four years of repressed need. The rush of it left Bail stunned. The wall that divided the entryway from the rest of the receiving area actually shook with the force of it, knocking a vase of flowers in a niche to the floor with a crash and sending the picture that hung there askew. It was all Bail could do to clutch at Obi-Wan's robe and breathe.

In all the years he'd fantasized about a sexual encounter with Obi-Wan Kenobi, Bail had never even remotely imagined something like this -- a frantic clumsy blowjob in the middle of his foyer; trousers around his ankles and dress shirt still on, picture frame digging into his back, two sets of hands groping gracelessly, and the only sounds the heavy pants and groans of a rushed and heated clash. He'd envisioned a slow seduction, something with alcohol, mood lighting, soft music, witty banter, and a bed. Bail couldn't even manage to string more than two words together in a coherent manner when Obi-Wan dropped to his knees. What little rational thinking capability Bail had left was used on the phrase, "damn it," when he came so fast that he didn't even have time to open his eyes and appreciate the fact that Obi-Wan looked exactly like he'd dreamed.

"Well, I think that's the first time I've heard someone say, 'damn it.'"

Bail couldn't open his eyes. He was mad at himself for letting it end so soon. But, frankly, he hadn't had much choice in the matter. Four years of sexual tension and frustration not only makes for a lot of awkward moments but it also means that Mother Nature isn't likely to be denied when the time finally arrives. Still, it certainly doesn't look good when your new lover hardly gets you in their mouth before the inevitable.

He wished he could crawl under something and hide.

"Bail?" Obi-Wan's tone turned from teasing to a bit worried as Bail just stood there, eyes closed and a mortified expression on his face. Standing, Obi-Wan reached a hand out to cup Bail's chin. "Bail, please, look at me."

"I'm sorry," was all Bail could manage between catching his breath and dying of embarrassment.

"It's alright. It happens." Obi-Wan said softly. He leaned forward and touched his forehead to Bail's. "I'm sorry about the vase. Was it very expensive?"

Bail shook his head. He wasn't about to tell Obi-Wan it was a priceless antique from the fourth dynasty of T'ell n'a Rash. The situation was awkward enough.

Obi-Wan sighed, slipped his arms around Bail's waist, and pulled him close. He still had his robe on and Bail could feel the rough weave of the fabric scratch against his bare thighs. "It wasn't what you'd been hoping for, was it? Do you wish we hadn't?"

"No!" Bail's eyes finally snapped open. "Not at all! I just. Well." He grinned and reached out and took Obi-Wan's face in his hands. "I should know better by now. Nothing with you ever goes the way I plan it."

"Is that good or bad?"

Bail shrugged. "I don't know. I don't think it's either really."

They stood there a moment, unsure what to do next. Bail wanted to pull up his trousers, he was getting a bit chill, but it seemed such a tacky thing to do. Of course standing in his foyer half naked with a softening erection seemed rather ridiculous so what difference did it make?

"When does your transport leave?"

Obi-Wan bit his lip and frowned. For some reason the expression only made him look even more fetching to Bail. The Prince had an overwhelming urge to put his own teeth to those lips. To suck at them and kiss them raw. "I probably shouldn't say."

"Well, what if I ask how long you can stay?" Bail whispered softly, his mouth next to Obi-Wan's ear. Now that his embarrassment was past, he wanted to take the time to enjoy the possibilities. He let his lips graze Obi-Wan's neck, feeling the fine hairs stiffen as his breath skimmed sensitive skin. "I'd at least like a chance to make up for a rather inelegant start and show you what an attentive lover a Prince can be."

Obi-Wan shivered. "I suppose it's alright to say I can stay until sunrise."

"Good." Suddenly, Bail had an overwhelming flush of possessiveness. He'd waited four years for this and he'd be damned if he was going to let Obi-Wan leave before they got it right. He stepped out of his pants and through the glass shards with an elegant confidence that belied his previous discomfort. He thanked the stars that he'd taken his boots off earlier while sitting at the desk, and pulled Obi-Wan toward his bedroom. "You know, at some point, we're going to have to talk about this..."

"Yeah." Obi-Wan followed, slipping his robe off and shedding articles of clothing, leaving them in a trail on the floor.

"...but you'll forgive me if I don't want to waste that kind of time right now."

Obi-Wan just nodded.

"And one more thing." Bail stopped just short of the bedroom door. "I don't want to wake up alone and wonder if this really happened. I know you can't stay but..."

"I promise, Bail," Obi-Wan said with a smile. "You won't wake up alone."

Part Two

Obi-Wan Kenobi was true to his word. Bail didn't wake up alone.

The time Bail spent asleep was short, hardly enough really, but when Obi-Wan woke him with soft kisses he didn't complain. Waking up in someone's arms was such a strange and beautiful thing. Opening his eyes to see Obi-Wan lying there smiling nearly overwhelmed him. It wasn't just that he had resigned himself to never being with Obi-Wan this way -- that he had all but given up hope that the love he felt would ever be anything but unrequited -- it was the fact that in almost thirty standard years of living Bail had only slept in the same bed with two people he wasn't related to, a young woman named Naris and a Senate aide named Ito.

Bail had met Naris in his first weeks at the University. He'd been taken by her beauty, but fell in love with her mind. For two years, they carried on a discreet relationship but, in the end, Naris had walked away. She wanted more than Bail's position would allow him to give a young woman that had no title or connection to a Great House. The end of the affair had devastated him. He had thrown himself into politics to escape the pain, running away from Alderaan to Coruscant to hide from what might have been.

Ito had simply been a mistake.

The young man was one of many that Bail met during his first few months on Coruscant. They had much in common and frequented the same clubs. Still aching from the end of his affair, Bail had made it a point not to let his heart get away from him. He treated dating companions with respect but kept them at a distance. The few relationships that did advance farther than public displays of affection for the benefit of the holonet press, he kept under tight reign. When he overindulged in Chimbak wine one evening at a political function, and Ito offered to see him home, he ignored the warning signs. By the time the taxi reached Bail's building, he didn't say no to Ito coming up. Later, when one thing led to another, Bail had nothing but regrets. The boy was young, beautiful, passionate, and indiscreet. When Bail tried to extricate himself from the affair in the weeks that followed, tales of the tryst were splashed across the holonet in vivid detail.

Those experiences had taught Bail the hard way that it was dangerous to let his emotions get the better of his head. It was a lesson that he thought he had learned well. Companions, associates, even so-called friends rarely knew the real Bail Organa, only the mask of his public persona. When Bail did take a lover, he never brought them home with him, he never stayed over, and the affair never lasted long. While it left him lonely even in a crowed room, it was the price he had to pay as heir to the throne of Alderaan. But with Obi-Wan, it had always been different. From the first, there had been a connection between them that Bail was helpless to deny. Though his head told him he shouldn't get too close or care too much, his heart would not listen. A look, a smile, a laugh from Obi-Wan meant everything because with Obi-Wan Bail could never be false or hold back. He knew that Obi-Wan's friendship and attentions were given because of who he was inside, not because of his titles or connections. Obi-Wan was, in Bail's eyes, a man without artifice and the trust that he put in their relationship after Rhen Var was the kind he gave only to his family.

It was that trust that made what had happened between them so much more than sex.

Though he knew it was cliché and sentimental, Bail had never felt happier than he did at this moment. It was as though his entire life had been moving him forward to this. Having Obi-Wan in his bed, tangled in his limbs and his sheets, made everything different somehow. Everything seemed sharp -- clear and right. Bail pressed his face to Obi-Wan's neck and inhaled deeply, trying to impress on his senses every little detail. He knew the moment couldn't last, but perhaps the memory of it would. The only thing that diminished the joy he felt was the knowledge that it had to end so soon.

"How long was I asleep?"

"Not long," Obi-Wan said quietly as he ran his fingers through Bail's hair. "About an hour."

Bail lay there in the darkness not wanting to face the inevitable moment of parting. Instead, he held on tight and tried to forget that time was passing. He had the thought that the next time Obi-Wan slept in his bed that he would leave the lights on -- he had an intense desire to know what color Obi-Wan's eyes would be on waking. Bail had learned over the course of their friendship that while Obi-Wan might present a stoic exterior, his control did not extend to his color shifting eyes. They revealed so much to someone that took the time to notice. They told Bail stories of mischief and playfulness he wouldn't have dreamed to find in a Jedi. Now that they were lovers, Bail wanted to watch those eyes -- to see what desire, hunger, need, and vulnerability looked like when he stared in them. What love looked like. He wanted it more than anything he'd ever wanted in his entire life.

"You'll have to go soon?"

Obi-Wan didn't have to respond. Bail's question was really more of a statement of fact and they both knew it, so they simply lay there together listening each other breathe.

Finally, Obi-Wan sighed and said, "I should shower. The ship won't have much beyond basic facilities and I'll need to take the time in transit to rest."

Bail did his best to hide his disappointment. There was really nothing either of them could do about the situation. Obi-Wan had to go; it was as simple as that. Bail wasn't going to make Obi-Wan feel guilty for doing his duty. "If you're hungry I could make something. I have fruit and..."

"I'm fine," Obi-Wan replied. After a moment's hesitation he said, "I rather hoped you would shower with me."

"Really?"

"Yes."

Bail grinned like a besotted fool at the thought of Obi-Wan in a shower. Once past the initial nervous hesitation, having Obi-Wan naked in a bed had been lovely. Though they'd had to scramble to find some necessities -- and Bail had wondered at one point if it was ever going to happen -- having Obi-Wan sweating, moaning, and inside him had been amazing. The concept of Obi-Wan wet, soapy, and in a light filled room where Bail could watch while his hands explored every inch of skin was, without a doubt, heavenly.

"I think that can be arranged."

Obi-Wan laughed at the eager tone of Bail's response and kissed him lightly on the lips. "Why don't you go ahead? I'll gather up my clothes."

Bail slipped out of bed and went to turn on the hot water. He wondered if Obi-Wan was giving him time alone on purpose. While sex between two humanoid males is incredibly pleasurable, it can also be quite messy -- particularly when the individuals in question weren't really planning on anything occurring. Bail quickly went through an abbreviated version of his morning routine and wondered, as he did, at how unrealistic novels and holovids could be. Even Princes had morning breath and hair that stood up on end.

But no matter how unrealistic it was, or how much he tried to deny it, Bail was a romantic man at heart. So far, while the evening had been wonderful, it had been rather short on the kind of elegant romantic gestures he'd always envisioned. He supposed it was only understandable -- being a charming and refined lover required advance planning. Bail wasn't going to complain, but the evening had definitely been lacking in advance planning.

Then, suddenly, he had an idea. By the time Obi-Wan stepped into the shower, Bail was kneeling on the tile with his head bowed.

Obi-Wan quirked up an eyebrow. "Bail?"

"As recently as four generations ago, the Viceroy of Alderaan had some interesting side benefits to his position. One of them was a 'body servant' -- a slave that ensured that the Viceroy was clean, presentable, and that his garments were in pristine condition." Bail kept his eyes lowered as he went on. "I thought it might facilitate cultural understanding between the people of Alderaan and the Jedi Order for you to experience that kind of service."

"Oh?" Obi-Wan slid the door of the shower enclosure shut. "But you said that keeping a 'body servant' was no longer practiced."

"Not in the sense that it was." Bail glanced up at Obi-Wan. "I still have an attendant that holds the title of 'body servant.' He is not, however, a slave, nor does he have the liberty of my person that the title implies. He is simply responsible for stocking my kitchen and maintaining my wardrobe."

"Well, strengthening diplomatic ties between planets and the Republic is one of the directives of my Order." Obi-Wan grinned and cupped his hand under Bail's chin, tilting his head upward. "How can I say no?"

Bail smiled and stood up. Without a word he wrapped his arms around Obi-Wan's waist and licked a few stray drops of water off his shoulder. Then he maneuvered them both under the spray. "If sir will allow, I will start with his hair."

Obi-Wan nodded and watched while Bail selected a bottle from a small shelf. Soon, the Prince-turned-servant was massaging Obi-Wan's scalp, face set in concentration. Bail alternated long raking strokes and tiny circles of his fingers until suds began to run down Obi-Wan's face.

"Close your eyes."

Bail put the bottle back on the shelf and cupped his hands together, using the water he gathered in them to help sluice the soap from Obi-Wan's hair. While he had been served in various capacities during his lifetime, and had spent many hours in the service of his people, it had never occurred to him how erotic such a thing could be. He had bathed with Naris several times over the course of their relationship but it had been different somehow. It had never evoked such an intense desire to please. The relaxed look of enjoyment on Obi-Wan's face stirred feelings of pride in Bail and he wondered if the body servants of old had felt like this when they attended the needs of their Viceroy. If they had, he certainly could understand why the relationship between the pair became one of a sexual nature. There was something salacious about the situation and from the way Obi-Wan's body was responding, the experience was arousing for him as well.

Moving back a step, Bail took soap and a sponge from the shelf. He kept his tone formal. "If sir would step forward, I will wash him now."

Bail watched with growing hunger as Obi-Wan's eyes flicked open and he stepped out of the spray. The only coherent thought in his head was how sexy Obi-Wan was -- how in all of his fantasies he'd never imagined a moment like this and that there was, quite possibly, no sight in the galaxy more gorgeous than a wet Obi-Wan Kenobi. Part of him wanted to give up the pretense of washing and just crush himself against Obi-Wan -- to beg again, like he had a few short hours ago, to feel Obi-Wan inside him. But, somehow, Bail managed to reign in the impulse. What he was doing now was about more than sex, it was about giving and trust, about being the attentive romantic lover he'd always wanted to be. About leaving Obi-Wan with an ache in his chest that would last as long as they were apart.

Though it was against his first impulse, Bail gently turned Obi-Wan to begin the ritual. Rubbing the soap onto the sponge, he brushed the small object in circles over Obi-Wan's back. He felt a flush of satisfaction when, as the sponge skimmed lower, Obi-Wan let out a soft sigh.

Bail continued to watch Obi-Wan for indications of pleasure as he knelt again on the tile. He was thorough and meticulous in his task, making certain to linger just a touch longer than necessary when sliding the sponge and his hand down the cleft of Obi-Wan's ass. The heat of satisfaction from earlier became something much more intense when the action elicited an outright moan. While it was certainly tempting, Bail had made up his mind much earlier in the evening that the first time he took Obi-Wan wasn't going to be rushed. No, he had another goal in mind and he left Obi-Wan making frustrated little noises when he moved away to lavish attention on legs and feet.

When he was finished, Bail stood up and pressed himself against Obi-Wan. He put one arm around Obi-Wan's waist and held the soapy sponge in the other. "Sir, if it please you, I will rinse you off."

Obi-Wan tilted his head up slightly in silent acquiescence. Bail was almost a half-head taller and he used that advantage with care now. There was a strange delicacy in what was playing out -- a dynamic of subservience that Bail found enthralling and was loathe to disturb. He looked down at Obi-Wan as he guided them both under the water and watched the sea-green eyes deepened in hue. So this stormy color from earlier, this is what desire looks like, he thought. He filed the information away in his mind, committing it to memory with so many other details he had learned.

Finally, Bail bowed his head downward. The sponge fell abandoned to the tile and he brushed his hands lightly over Obi-Wan's body as he kissed him as methodically as he had washed him. He kissed his forehead, his eyebrows, his eyelids and lashes. He kissed his nose, and his moles, and the cleft in his chin. By the time he turned his attention to Obi-Wan's mouth -- the corners of it that quirked upward so naturally in mischief -- Bail could feel the lust coming off the Jedi in waves. It was difficult to disentangle himself from the eager kisses that Obi-Wan gave Bail in return, but after a time he managed. Mapping Obi-Wan's face was far from enough and Bail wasn't about to let his opportunity slip by. He opened his mouth and ran a hot line from the base of Obi-Wan's chin down to the hollow of his throat, tasting skin and water. He let his hands roam freely now and they brushed and teased every bit of Obi-Wan he could reach, his mouth following to trace the lines of scars along his path. By the time he finally dropped to his knees, Obi-Wan was reduced to little more than growls that seemed to pull involuntarily from the back of his throat.

Of the few lovers Bail had taken, only two had been male. He had little experience with what he was about to do and the last time he'd done it had been nearly five years ago. He didn't let that stop him. Sliding his hands down to settle on Obi-Wan's hips, Bail closed his eyes and followed his instincts.

After a few experimental licks with his tongue, Bail took Obi-Wan's erection in his mouth as far as he could. He let himself linger, tasting and learning as he had with every other part of Obi-Wan's body. Bail felt greedy -- he wanted to feel Obi-Wan tremble; to hear him beg the way he had trembled and begged a few hours before in bed. He wanted this, had wanted this for years, and he let that hunger consume him. He needed to please and to find pleasure in pleasing. He shifted his hands and kneaded the muscles of Obi-Wan's ass, using the new position as leverage to take more of his lover into his mouth. Bail hadn't had enough practice to overcome his gag reflex and it took a lot of concentration to keep his throat from closing up. It only got more difficult when Obi-Wan began thrusting, one hand clasped to Bail's shoulder and the other clenched in his hair. He fought his natural instinct to pull away, to give into the pulse of fear that came when he couldn't draw breath, and let Obi-Wan take over. He had the strange simultaneous feelings of being nothing more than an object to be used and the exaltation that he'd been the one to make his lover lose all sense of restraint. It was startlingly gratifying.

Bail felt Obi-Wan's orgasm before it actually happened. He felt Obi-Wan's body tighten -- muscles tensing and then shuddering in pleasure. He could hear Obi-Wan's breathing change from stuttered pulls to deep ragged gasps. He felt the erection in is mouth lengthen slightly before both of Obi-Wan's hands grasped hanks of his hair in an almost painful grip that brought tears to his eyes. And when Obi-Wan bucked forward, crying out Bail's name and gushing into his mouth, it was all Bail could do not to choke. Though he wanted to, he couldn't swallow. He was mildly embarrassed at the inability as fluid overflowed out of his mouth and down his chin.

Then they were both falling.

Obi-Wan's legs trembled and gave out. Unprepared, Bail lost his balance and they both tumbled to the tile. Bail nearly cracked his head on the floor.

There was something so absurdly congruent about the whole situation. Yet again, Bail's plans had ended in an inelegant mess. He wondered if he was ever going to manage to get anything right with Obi-Wan or if he should simply give up and stop trying. What was it the Jedi were always saying: Live in the moment? It's the Will of the Force? He could almost hear the voice of Qui-Gon Jinn in his head speaking the words. It seemed so comical.

He started to giggle.

It wasn't long before the giggle turned into a full-blown laugh. Thankfully, Obi-Wan didn't seem to mind and before long, both their voices were echoing off the walls in a fit of near hysterics. When the laughter finally died away, and they lay together on the tile, Obi-Wan took Bail's face in his hands and said, "You are so beautiful. I'm sorry I made you wait so long."

Bail shrugged. "It's alright. You're here now."

The words seemed to bring them both back to reality and Bail wanted to kick himself for saying them. He didn't want Obi-Wan to go. After more than four years of courtship to have only a few short hours together was so unfair. Obi-Wan hadn't confirmed where his mission was taking him, but he hadn't denied it either. Bail knew how volatile the situation was and he wondered if that was why Obi-Wan had come to him in the first place, if the sense of urgency between them was more than just years of sexual tension.

"I want to take you to the launch."

"Bail..."

"Please, Obi-Wan."

Bail wasn't sure if he felt grateful or frightened when Obi-Wan nodded his assent.

Buttoning his white dress shirt as he walked, Bail hurried through the apartment to his study and slipped his signet ring on his finger, stones side down. They didn't have much time. As he brushed his thumb over the pattern of blue inlaid in the surface to activate the comm unit, he pulled a small device from the inside pocket of the robe draped over his chair and quickly inserted it in his ear. A few seconds later, a sleepy voice resonated in Bail's head.

"Arc here."

"I have need of you, my friend."

"Your Highness?" Bail could see the man in his mind, sitting up in bed at full attention. He could almost hear the sheets being thrown back as the weapons master came fully awake. Arc never did anything in half measures. It was one of the reasons Bail employed him. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, Arc," he said in a reassuring tone. There would be time to explain everything later -- when he and Arc were on the training floor and the man was doing his level best with a stun baton to make Bail sorry he'd met him. "I just need a diversion. Our usual. How long would it take you to get here?"

"In standard uniform, about ten minutes."

"Good." Bail tried to sound nonchalant with the next part of his request. "And Arc, there's a speeder here that will need to be returned to the Jedi Temple in a discreet manner."

Arc didn't miss a beat. "Yes, Your Highness."

Bail closed his eyes and smiled. How he'd gotten lucky enough to gain the service of a retainer like Arc -- much less the loyalty and friendship of the man -- was sometimes beyond his comprehension. "I don't deserve you, Arc."

"If you say so, Your Highness."

It was all Bail could do not to laugh. "I do say so."

"Then I shall remind you of that when we discuss my salary in four standard months, Your Highness."

A good-natured, "Mercenary," was Bail's response.

"A matter of syntax, Your Highness."

"Thank you, Arc." The little bit of extra emphasis on the "thank you" made it clear how grateful Bail was.

"I serve at the pleasure of my Prince," Arc said dryly. And with that, he severed the comlink.

Task complete, Bail twisted the ring on his finger so that the blue Grimtaash and lily Seal of House Organa faced up again and headed back toward the bedroom where Obi-Wan was dressing.

"We can leave in twelve minutes. Is it enough time?"

Obi-Wan nodded. He had just finished securing his utility belt over his sash and was shrugging his dark brown robe on over his tunics.

On impulse, Bail reached out and took hold of Obi-Wan's hands. He laced their fingers together and leaned forward, touching his forehead to Obi-Wan's. "Isn't life strange?" he said softly. "If someone had said to me yesterday that you would walk through my door, that I'd be standing here with you like this, I'd have laughed and called them insane." Bail sighed and closed his eyes. "I'll miss you."

"I know." Obi-Wan gave Bail's hands a squeeze. "I'll miss you."

Bail dropped Obi-Wan's hands and smiled. "Well, at the risk of sounding like I'm trying to get you out of your clothes, you need to take off that robe. Much as I love seeing you in it, it's a dead giveaway to a reporter." Bail walked over to another closet and palmed it open. It contained half a dozen dark charcoal gray military cut jackets, pressed dark brown slacks, several pairs of brown leather boots very similar to those Obi-Wan wore, and a half dozen helmets. He pulled out two of the jackets, two helmets, and a pair of boots. "We'll put your robe and utility belt in a satchel. You can stuff the braid up into the helmet. The coat will be a bit big on you but that should actually be an advantage. It means you can just put it on over your other things."

Obi-Wan cocked his head to one side. "You do this often?"

"At least every three days. It's necessary subterfuge, my Jedi." Bail draped the coats over the bed and sat down to put on his boots. "The press follows me everywhere. If I'm to have any privacy -- or security -- having a decoy system is a requirement. My Master of Arms, Arc, is on his way. He'll change into some of my clothes as soon as he arrives, wait a few minutes, and then lead the journalists on a leisurely morning drive."

"I don't know if I find the fact that you're so nonchalant about this positive or negative."

"Why do you say that?"

"It just seems strange. Unlike you." Obi-Wan removed his robe and buttoned the jacket over his clothes. "I suppose I've never thought of you as manipulative or duplicitous."

"Well, it helps to keep me alive." Bail stood up and began to button his coat. He frowned. "It's no more than what most other Senators and members of royal houses in the galaxy must do to protect themselves. I know you've acted as bodyguard to more than one official, Obi-Wan. Since Rhen Var, I simply find it prudent to have my own system instead of relying on the Republic and the Jedi to protect me. I find it all the more so since they nearly killed Finis."

Obi-Wan nodded. "That's understandable."

Irritated, Bail went back to the closet and pulled out a satchel. He slapped the palm mechanism to close the door and stalked back to the bed where he snatched up Obi-Wan's utility belt and stuffed it into the bag.

"Bail, please." Obi-Wan reached out and took hold of Bail's hand. "Don't be upset. What I said didn't come out the way I meant it. It wasn't an accusation. I just..." Obi-Wan hesitated, searching for the right thing to say. "I just don't think of you as a Senator or a Prince. I think of you as Bail. As my friend."

"You know..." Bail looked up at Obi-Wan. He had to swallow to get the words out past the lump in his throat. "That may be the nicest thing anyone has said to me in a very long time."

A chime sounded.

"That means Arc has landed on the roof. We'd better go."

Bail had Obi-Wan take the helm. It seemed natural. Bail didn't know the location of the launch site and, while he'd been working on his flying skills with Arc and learning various ship systems as a precaution, Obi-Wan had years of practice with all kinds of transports. Bail knew from personal experience what an expert pilot Obi-Wan was and, should the decoy system fail and the press decide to follow them, Obi-Wan would be better equipped to shake the tail.

Luckily, things went without a hitch. Bail saw the usual set of photographers when they exited onto the roof of the building, but they ignored the pair in their dark gray coats and face obscuring helmets. No one seemed to notice that Obi-Wan's uniform was a bit big or found anything strange about the satchel Bail carried.

The flight was short and Bail was grateful. It was still quite early and the sun had yet to burn the damp chill from the air making the flight more than a bit brisk. The ship was waiting at a facility near Coco Town and the cafe they often frequented -- a privately run docking station that had no affiliation with the Chancellor or the Jedi and was off the beaten track enough not to be noticed.

Obi-Wan quickly shed the jacket and replaced it with his belt and robe becoming, once again, a Jedi. They left the speeder and Obi-Wan led the way to hanger four. When they reached the doorway, Obi-Wan hesitated and then pulled Bail close. "I don't know when I'll be back," he whispered.

"I know." Bail returned the embrace, hugging Obi-Wan tight. He'd said goodbye to Obi-Wan many times before, but he'd never felt the sense of urgency he did now. He was afraid -- afraid of losing something precious that he'd hardly had the chance to know. Bail knew how inflexible the Trade Federation could be. The fact that the Chancellor had requested that the Jedi put an end to the blockade -- that he had likely asked for Qui-Gon Jinn to be the representative -- told Bail exactly how dangerous the situation really was. It was selfish, his fear, but he felt it anyway. "Be careful."

Obi-Wan nodded his response against Bail's cheek, the warmth of the friction of their skin electric in the wake of their night together. Then the moment was gone. Stepping back and out of Bail's embrace, Obi-Wan palmed open the door to the hanger. Bail blinked in surprise as Obi-Wan took his hand and smiled, tugging lightly. The pair walked together toward the waiting diplomatic cruiser.

The retractable roof was already open in anticipation of takeoff. Qui-Gon Jinn stood near the lowered loading ramp, his robe fluttering from the breeze that filtered in from above. The pair came to a halt in front of him, hands still clasped together. The Jedi Master glanced briefly at the display of affection before speaking. His face was completely unreadable and his voice betrayed nothing. "Padawan."

Obi-Wan gave Bail's hand a light squeeze and then let go. "Master."

Qui-Gon turned his attention away from Obi-Wan and toward Bail. He dipped his head in a half-bow; a mere nod. "Senator Organa."

"Master Jinn." Bail returned the brief and rather perfunctory courtesy.

"Are you here to deliver a message?" Qui-Gon inquired.

"No, Master Jinn. I am here in a purely private capacity."

"I see." Qui-Gon turned back to Obi-Wan. His expression had not changed but his tone was chill. "Padawan, board the transport. It's time for us to go."

"Yes, Master." Obi-Wan glanced swiftly at Bail before folding his arms in his robe sleeves and bowing. He immediately did as instructed without looking back.

Qui-Gon flipped up the hood of his robe and turned to follow his apprentice. He had taken only a few steps when Bail's voice stopped him mid-stride.

"Master Jinn."

Turning on his heel at the edge of the ramp, Qui-Gon folded his arms in front of him. "Yes?"

"Please don't be irritated with Obi-Wan. I insisted on bringing him this morning and he has said nothing regarding the nature of your mission."

Qui-Gon's posture stiffened visibly. "Senator Organa, I will deal with my Padawan's behavior as I see fit."

Bail had to force his voice to work. His mouth seemed full of cotton and his eyes automatically lowered to the ground. He had the distracted thought that his boots were scuffed and that he should say something to Delphan about it when he returned to the apartment. "Of course. I apologize for my presumption."

Closing the distance between them, Qui-Gon came toe to toe with Bail. A hand lifted the Senator's chin and blue eyes stared in an almost predatory manner into brown ones. The words that came out of the Jedi Master's mouth were quiet and full of warning. "Have care, Bail Organa. You tread on dangerous ground. The heart of a Jedi is never given lightly and Obi-Wan's is far more fragile than you could possibly imagine."

Though Qui-Gon was only an inch taller than Bail, the Senator felt dwarfed. It was everything he could do to keep from shaking as the Jedi Master held him fast with his hand and eyes. He had never been so intimidated, not even by his father. Qui-Gon delivered four final words before he turned and stalked onto the transport.

"Do. Not. Hurt. Him."

Bail stood there flabbergasted and shivering as the hydraulics activated and pulled the ramp up into the cruiser. Attitude thrusters fired blowing warm air down onto the launch platform. Startled out of his shock, Bail quickly backed away. The roar of three atomizer engines ramping up forced Bail to clamp his hands over his ears. Rotating, the ship launched itself from the hanger and out into space.

And Bail Organa was left alone.

Epilogue

Bail didn't remember his dreams.

He knew that he had them; he simply didn't remember anything about them. Waking tangled in the sheets in a cold sweat with his heart racing was naturally interpreted as a nightmare. He'd had his share of being jolted awake as he achieved orgasm -- particularly during his teens -- but he never knew the identity or face of the dream lover that brought him so much pleasure. There were mornings when he woke exhausted, as though he hadn't slept at all. He assumed that this was the result of dreams in which he was very active.

The last time Bail actually remembered the content of his dreams he was four years old. The Organa family had gone to their mountain retreat for a holiday, trying to get away from the ongoing political battles over the Ascension. It was late summer, and Bail and his sisters had spent their first few days playing -- climbing trees, running through the long grass, and generally amusing themselves as children are wont to do. But Bail took a fall. He tumbled down a rocky hillside while trying to keep up with his older and far more coordinated sisters. The scrapes and bruises didn't seem bad. He had twisted his ankle and had a lump on his head. No one thought much of it until a few days later when he developed small red spots on his skin.

For seven days, Bail lay in bed as fever raged through his body. He had contracted a bacterial infection called Cearialis' Bane; named so for the Viceroy under whose rule the plague had swept unchecked through the population of Alderaan some five hundred standard years earlier. Bail's father banished the rest of the family to Aldera for their protection and sat by his son's side, tending to him with the assistance of a healer. For a time they thought Bail might die, that they had discovered the infection too late and Bail's body would be unable to combat the illness, but destiny had other plans.

He survived.

However, since that fateful illness, all Bail could remember upon waking was darkness. The delirium he experienced for those few short days when he was four seemed to have overloaded him. Even though he was so young when it happened, he still recalled the images from those days: rows and rows of men in white armor, huge starships that clashed in battle, and Jedi wielding lightsabers. He dreamed of representing Alderaan in the Senate -- wearing robes of state and looking so much like his father. And through it all, he remembered helplessness, though he was far to young to understand it was what he was feeling. There was a darkness, a sense of frustration, that overshadowed even the exhaustion and pain caused by his body's attempts to heal itself. That darkness remained with him, shrouding his nightly rest ever after.

At least it had until one night about two standard weeks after he watched Obi-Wan and his Master board the ship for Naboo.

In the days the followed the launch, Bail found himself at the center of one of the biggest crisis in the Republic's modern history. Smelling the proverbial blood in the water, factions began to lobby incessantly in an attempt to shore up under the table support for possible candidates to replace Chancellor Valorum. When Obi-Wan returned to Coruscant with the Naboo Queen, an already volatile situation came to a head. Though it pained him to do so, Bail was forced to take sides against a man he once thought of as a mentor and friend. He used his position and knowledge to second the Queen's motion for a Vote of No Confidence and set in motion his own contingency plan. Bail managed to get his counterpart, Bail Antilles, on the ballot.

His friend Palpatine managed a bid as well.

When he heard that Obi-Wan and Master Jinn were escorting Queen Amidala back to Naboo, he did his best to push nagging worries from his mind. The run-up to the elections consumed Bail's every waking moment and before he even had a chance to try to contact Obi-Wan, he was gone. Of course, Obi-Wan hadn't tried to comm Bail either. It was disappointing but understandable. Duty came first for Senators and Jedi, it was the way of things.

Still, something felt wrong about the situation. Bail couldn't put his finger on it, couldn't isolate why he felt so ill at ease, but he did. The night after Palpatine confided that the Queen intended to stand and fight for her people's freedom, he'd slept fitfully and spent the next day in a gloomy frame of mind. Time and again, Bail's thoughts drifted to Obi-Wan. Was he well? Had they gotten past the blockade? What would they do when they got to Naboo? Would Obi-Wan be involved in the fighting? The questions seemed never ending and they surged to the forefront of his thoughts at the most inappropriate moments: in committee meetings, during conferences with other Senators while drumming up support for the Alderaan delegation's candidate, even while dictating to his aide.

An evening fundraiser brought no respite from the sense of wrongness. Committed to the event weeks in advance, Bail attended the dinner party with his sister, Celly. It had been a resounding success. The charity was one that worked in cooperation with the Refugee Relief Foundation, of which Celly was Chair, and the event had raised the last of the credits needed to add a new wing to a children's hospital at the Coruscant Embarkation Center. Bail should have been happy, but he wasn't. Instead he felt tense -- so much so that he finally went home early with a dull headache. He left the stack of reports he had brought home from the office on his desk untouched and turned in, hoping that a night of rest would cure whatever ailed him.

It didn't.

Bail jerked awake after only a few hours, the stink of fear-sweat clinging to his body and sheets. Vivid but disjointed images still flashed behind closed eyes. There had been fighting. He clearly remembered seeing Obi-Wan, his lips a thin grim line of determination, as he used his lightsaber to deflect a barrage of blaster fire. He remembered Master Jinn dodging and weaving to evade an unseen foe. There was something else too, something dark and sinister. Bail couldn't recall an image or a face. The harder he tried to remember, the more afraid he became and the more the vision slipped away.

There were tales about Jedi and the Force. It was said they could see the future. Such rumors always made Bail feel nervous -- as if he were somehow not in control of his own destiny -- and he refused to believe. But there, in the dark of his bedroom, Bail somehow knew in his heart that what he had seen was more than a dream. Obi-Wan was in mortal danger.

Bail showered in an effort to wash away his fear. It had no effect. He methodically changed the sheets on his bed, repeating over and over that it was only a nightmare, that Obi-Wan was safe. His heart didn't listen. He lay back down and curled up around his pillow, clutching it as though it might bring him some kind of comfort. Logic said that there was nothing to worry about. It was absurd to think that his dream was a vision. Still, sleep wouldn't come. Every time he closed his eyes he saw the grim look on Obi-Wan's face.

He gave up trying to sleep at dawn.

When Bail arrived at the office the next morning, his fear became dread. The appointed hour for a scheduled meeting with a Trade Federation representative came and went without so much as a comm from the Neimoidian. Attempts to contact the delegation failed. Bail had offered the Alderaanian Diplomatic Corp to broker an agreement, and the Trade Federation had seemed relieved by the suggestion, so the apparent disappearance of the remaining Trade Federation representatives was alarming. The next few hours were filled with frantic calls. Bail attempted to wrangle information out of his contacts to no avail. The closest he got to hard intel came from an aide in the Supreme Chancellor's office. With Finis Valorum gone and no successor yet chosen to fill his position, Bail found staffers loose lipped -- particularly to a friend of the former Chancellor and a member of the delegation that might replace him.

The aide said a communiqué had been received through back channels from Jedi Master Adi Gallia. It had precipitated sending Jedi negotiators and had indicated there were other interests beyond the Trade Federation involved in the invasion of Naboo. Another message had been sent under the same security code that morning and said that the native resistance had engaged the Trade Federation droid army.

Pacing his office, Bail debated what step to take next. He had only one card left to play and it might cost him. If he called on the friendship of the Naboo Senator, he would reveal how much he knew to a man that was far too connected and shrewd.

He commed anyway.

"Senator Organa, what may I do for you?"

Bail did his best to keep a blank face. "Senator Palpatine, I realize what a busy time this is for you so I will be brief. I have been attempting to reach the Trade Federation delegation this morning. The Alderaan Diplomatic Corp was to take over as intermediary in the dispute..."

"Oh, well, I wouldn't worry about that, Senator." The little blue figure of Palpatine waived its hand with smile as it hovered just above Bail's desk. "It seems that Queen Amidala has resolved the matter."

"I'm sorry?"

"It's quite amazing actually!" The look on Palpatine's face was simultaneously happy and benign. It was a strange quality that Bail always found mildly disturbing. "I'm a little vague on the details as of yet, but it seems that with the help of a slave boy from Tatooine and the pair of Jedi, they've taken the Trade Federation leaders captive. I daresay that Nute Gunray will need the Diplomatic Corp to defend his organization in hearings once the vote is over."

It was all Bail could do to keep his relief from showing. "Well then, I'm sorry to have taken your time, Senator. Will we see you tomorrow during the voting?"

At his question Palpatine's form changed expression. He shook his head. "Sadly not. I'll be casting my vote in absentia. The young Queen's gambit was risky and not without cost. We lost many fine pilots and soldiers in the battle. I will be boarding a shuttle to Naboo in a few hours along with Masters Windu and Yoda."

Bail blinked. "Why are members of the Jedi Council..."

"I'm afraid they lost one of their own as well, Senator Organa." Palpatine spread his hands in an open and sympathetic gesture. "Such a sad day."

"What?" This time there was no disguising his reaction. Bail stared at the holoprojection, gaping, as his heart skipped beats.

"Oh, that's right. The Jedi, they are the team that helped you with the Tanthal Alliance matter, aren't they? I'm sorry to be the bearer of such sad tidings."

"Which one was it!" Bail demanded.

Palpatine clasped his hands together. "I'm sorry, Senator, I do not know."

Bail's shoulders slumped. He thought he might be sick.

"Senator Organa?"

Squeezing his eyes closed to hold back the tears that threatened, Bail responded to Palpatine's query. "Thank you, Senator. I won't keep you any longer. I appreciate your time."

Bail switched off the comm before Palpatine could respond. In shock, he stood up and headed for the door of his office. Aides and interns asked him questions as he walked away, but he didn't hear them. There was only one thing he could comprehend.

A Jedi had fallen.

He walked out of the office, through the corridors, and down to the docking platforms. He boarded a Senate shuttle, only vaguely aware of its destination due to the purple stripe on the side. As the autopilot slipped the ship into the vast flow of traffic Bail felt strange and disconnected. Nothing seemed real anymore.

A Jedi had fallen.

Bail's feet found their way across another docking platform to the turbolift that served the Refugee Relief executive offices. He didn't notice that his hands shook when he selected the floor. As the small capsule shot skyward, Bail's knees no longer seemed capable of holding him up. He was mildly surprised as he crumpled to the floor of the lift.

A Jedi had fallen.

The door to the lift opened and Bail couldn't stand up. A detached part of himself realized water was falling and splattering on his hands. Someone said his name several times, but Bail didn't recognize the word anymore. He turned up his tear-streaked face to the speaker. It was his sister.

"Bail? What's happened?"

He couldn't speak the words. They just echoed in his head, over and over.

A Jedi has fallen.

Celly barked at an aide and stepped into the lift. It zoomed back down to the platform and two guards helped Celly get Bail into a speeder. The world was little more than a blur to Bail as his sister set a course for Republica. In no time, they were docked and Arc was helping Celly maneuver Bail inside the apartment. He mechanically went where he was pointed. Celly sat with him while Arc brought water and a pill.

"Bail, darling, try to focus for me. Take the pill. It will help with the shock."

He did as he was told.

Arc made himself invisible but hovered nearby in case he was needed. Celly stroked Bail's hair, concerned, and he sagged against her. Suddenly the floodgates opened. Clinging to his sister Bail told her everything in a rush -- how he'd met Obi-Wan years ago, their lunches and dinners, their talks, and how the Padawan had inexplicably turned up on his doorstep. He told her about their night together, in almost embarrassing detail, and how Obi-Wan had left for Naboo.

Then he told her that Obi-Wan might be dead.

Celly sat there on the couch, Bail's head in her lap, and asked the only question that really mattered. "You love him, don't you?"

Bail nodded. "More than anything."

"Did you tell him?"

A pang of regret shot through Bail and it brought fresh tears to the surface. He didn't trust his voice so he simply shook his head no.

When Celly spoke next, her voice was soft. "Things have a strange way of working out. Some, like the Jedi, say it's the Force -- that it binds us together and guides our destinies. Others call it other things; they worship gods or call it fate or chance." She sighed, her hand resting lightly on Bail's head. "Bail, I love you. I hate to see you in so much pain. But, if the Jedi is dead then it is for the best."

Bail looked up at his sister in shock. "How can you say that?" he choked.

"Because it's true." Celly took Bail's face in her hands. "Little brother, you are the heir to the throne of Alderaan. Your life is not your own to do with as you please. He is a Jedi. His first loyalty must always be to the Order as yours must be to Alderaan and House Organa. And even if he weren't a Jedi -- if he would walk away from that life -- what then? He cannot provide you an heir. I daresay a man like the one you described to me would not be the sort to spend his days idle, as your lover and consort, while a wife shares your bed and gives you children. No, Bail, if he is the fallen Jedi you should be thankful for the moments you had and let it go. The affair could come to no good end."

The logic of it wasn't lost on Bail. He had used those arguments himself to try and push his feelings for Obi-Wan aside. What Celly said was true, but it didn't make his love any less and it certainly didn't make the pain he felt go away. He buried his face in Celly's lap and sobbed.

"Oh, Bail," Celly sighed. "I'm so sorry. I wish it could be different."

Celly helped Bail to bed. He drank the tea she made and took the sedative she offered him. In all the years since the Ascension had passed to House Organa he had never lamented what it meant to his life and the lives of his sisters. The privileges of rank had far outweighed the responsibilities and lack of privacy. He had a good life and a family that loved him. It seemed ungrateful to complain. But even as he fell asleep, Bail held on to the guilty, selfish hope that Qui-Gon Jinn was the fallen Jedi and not his Obi-Wan.

Bail hoped he would never dream again.

fin