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Forgiven

by Jedi Rita (Jedirita@yahoo.com)

Rating: R (I think. I'm not very good at this. Maybe NC-17?)

Pairing: Obi/Bail, Q/other

Category: Romance, Angst

Summary: When Qui-Gon starts seeing someone else, a jealous Obi-Wan loses control, and Bail ends up hurt.

Warnings: rough but consensual sex, swearing

Timeline: 3 years before TPM

Mush alert: Embarrassingly high. Finally!

Angst-o-meter: 7-ish

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

Feedback: Oh, please!

Requisite homage: Master George, what would I do without you? You own The Universe, and I am your obsequious slave.

Author's note: Sorry this one was so long in coming. I actually wrote it ages ago, but it is very relevant to recent discussion threads on the MA list about jealousy, obsession and Jedi duty. I am dying to know people's thoughts (if any) on those themes as they play out in this story! And if you've been following this series so far, this chapter represents a more mature shift in the direction the storyline is going. The boys have to start growing up sometime, ya know.

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

The afternoon sun streamed through the window, warming the office of Senator Bail Organa, who was trying desperately not to fall asleep. He couldn't seem to focus on the report he was supposed to be reading, finding himself distracted by the lazy drifting of dust in the sun as it fell across his desk, when the stupefying warmth of his reverie was abruptly shattered by the insistent chime of his private commlink. Bail jerked upright, fumbling for the comm, lost amid the datapads on his desk, before composing himself and placidly answering, "Yes?"

"It's Obi-Wan," the familiar voice greeted him.

"Ben!" Bail exclaimed in delight. "You're back!"

"Yes," Obi-Wan said flatly, but Bail was too happy to notice his tone. "I was wondering if you were free this evening?"

He wasn't, but he could change his plans. He was supposed to go to a reception, but he could send his assistant instead. Bail saw Obi-Wan so rarely that he rearranged his schedule whenever possible to accommodate him. "Where and what time?" he offered.

"How about 6:00, your place?" Obi-Wan suggested. "I don't particularly care to go out."

Better and better. "Fine with me. I'll see you at 6:00, then."

They signed off, and Bail settled back into his chair, taking a moment to savor the approaching evening. They almost always went out somewhere first. Not that Bail was complaining. He loved being with Obi-Wan, and he didn't want them to spend all their time together having sex. But every once in a while Obi-Wan would show up on his doorstep hot and eager, and Bail didn't mind that either.

It was going to be a pleasant evening indeed.

It was actually a few minutes before 6:00 when Bail's door chimed. He didn't even try to restrain the silly grin that plastered itself over his face when he answered the door, but he did manage to resist the impulse to pounce on Obi-Wan immediately.

The Padawan wore his Jedi robes, another indication that he had no intention of going out. By now Obi-Wan made a point of wearing civilian clothes whenever they went out because he knew Bail liked it. Bail took Obi-Wan's robe and ushered him into the living room. "How have you been? I hope your mission was a success. Or missions, I should say. It's been a while, hasn't it? Were they the good kind or the bad kind?" He was babbling, but he didn't care. Obi-Wan always made him feel like a freshly uncorked bottle of champagne.

"I'm fine," Obi-Wan answered, his mouth twisting in a wry smile. "And you?"

"Splendid as always." He would not throw himself on Obi-Wan. He would not. "So -- are you hungry? Have you had dinner? Do you want to eat?"

Obi-Wan's eyes narrowed, taking on a feral gleam. "No," he growled, his arms folding around Bail and crushing him to his chest as he devoured Bail in a greedy kiss.

Searing heat flashed through Bail as Obi-Wan plundered his mouth, and he felt his knees begin to give way. He had to twine his arms around Obi-Wan's neck to keep from falling, and his head spun from lack of breath. Dimly, he was aware of being crushed up against the wall, Obi-Wan pressing against him so hard he thought his ribs would crack, yet somehow Obi-Wan's hands managed to squeeze between them, tearing at Bail's clothes. Must be a Jedi trick, Bail mused happily as Obi- Wan's hand snaked into his pants and began to fondle him, squeezing -- rather painfully, actually. Bail managed to twist free of Obi-Wan's kiss to murmur, "Not so hard," before his mouth was reclaimed, but Obi-Wan let go of him, withdrawing his hand and grinding his hips against Bail's with savage need. He grabbed Bail's wrists and pinned them to the wall while he continued to move against Bail's body.

Obi-Wan held him so tightly to the wall that he could only breathe in shallow gasps. Experimentally he tugged his arms, trying to free himself from Obi-Wan's grasp, but he might as well have struggled against durasteel cuffs. Obi-Wan wasn't hurting him, though Bail could feel his lips bruising beneath the brutal kisses, and the lack of oxygen was making him light-headed. But if he wanted to, Obi-Wan could hurt him very easily. Bail knew, of course, that as a Jedi Obi- Wan was strong, but he had never seen Obi-Wan use his strength or skill. He knew Obi-Wan as a gentle, tender man, given a preternatural grace through the Force, but now he was getting a glimpse of Obi-Wan's true power. He could snap every bone in Bail's body like a dry twig and grind him into powder all in an instant, and there was no way Bail would be able to defend himself. He'd never really realized how completely he was at Obi-Wan's mercy.

But the knowledge didn't frighten him. On the contrary, he knew Obi- Wan would never hurt him. Obi-Wan could walk the finest of lines between passionate, demanding sex and outright rape, yet Bail trusted the Jedi completely. He felt safer in Obi-Wan's arms even now than he could possibly feel anywhere else in the universe.

He realized now what was going on. This wasn't a "Force, I missed you" fuck, it was a "drown myself in you" fuck. As a Jedi, Obi-Wan sometimes saw unspeakable horror and suffering on his missions, scenes of carnage and brutality on a scale Bail couldn't even imagine. Occasionally Obi-Wan was even the victim of such brutality himself, injured, capture, or tortured. When he returned from those missions, he fled to Bail's bed seeking to escape the memories in fierce sex. Bail felt honored that Obi-Wan would seek him out, that Obi-Wan needed a comfort from him no Jedi could give: the comfort of ignorance. Obi-Wan needed to bury himself in someone who was untouched by the galaxy's dark side, to pour his agony into someone whose cup of suffering was not already overflowing, someone who knew nothing of the true evil sentient beings could inflict on each other. It pleased and humbled Bail to know he could give this to Obi- Wan, that he could purge Obi-Wan of that darkness.

And Obi-Wan had never been this fierce before. Something truly terrible must have happened, so Bail did not struggle, did not try to take control. He just let Obi-Wan have him, giving himself completely to the Jedi's need.

Obi-Wan brought Bail's wrists together over his head so he could hold them in one hand while he claimed Bail's body with the other. Obi- Wan's mouth left Bail's to devour his eyes, his jaw, his neck, teeth scraping the soft skin above his jugular vein, biting -- almost but not quite too hard.

Abruptly Obi-Wan pulled Bail away from the wall, all but picking him up and carrying him into the bedroom, throwing him down on the bed before descending on him to strip away his clothes. His mouth and hands continued to lay claim to Bail's body, but Obi-Wan didn't have to do anything more to make him hard. Bail was already ready.

Grabbing Bail's hip, Obi-Wan flipped him over onto his stomach, lying across his back with his full weight as he reached for the bottle of oil in the drawer by the bed. Normally Bail didn't need any preparation, but this was too fast and furious. It would hurt otherwise, was probably going to hurt a little anyway. That was good. Bail contentedly folded his arms beneath his head, arching as Obi-Wan pressed an oil-slick finger into him. Then the pressure on his back lifted as Obi-Wan grabbed his hips and plunged into him.

It did hurt, that wonderful, delicious mingling of pain and pleasure that meant he was in for a really good fucking. Obi-Wan did not reach around to caress him, nor did Bail need to touch himself. He was going to come anyway as Obi-Wan rocked into him, hard and deep. If only Obi-Wan would hold him, his body pressed against Bail's back, his arms around Bail's chest, but the physics of sex didn't work like that. Tender or fierce; he couldn't have it both ways.

True to form, Obi-Wan pleasured Bail for a long time, controlling himself until Bail's orgasm ripped through him, and only then granting his own body release. Must be another of those Jedi skills. Bail liked to make his other lovers lose control, to be unable to restrain their own passion, but it could never really happen with Obi-Wan. If the Jedi ever truly lost control, Bail would probably wind up injured. It was more than enough, however, to bring him right up to the edge. Bail liked to think Obi-Wan would never let himself go so far with anyone else. It was just another example of how much Obi-Wan needed him and no other.

Obi-Wan collapsed heavily across Bail's back, dead weight, still trembling. Bail decided he would really like to be able to breathe freely again, so he shifted, managing to roll Obi-Wan slightly off him. They lay still in silence for a long time, longer than usual, the aftershock of their love-making still wracking through them both. At last Bail recovered enough to turn over and gather Obi-Wan in his arms, pulling the Jedi's head onto his chest and twining the braid, now damp with sweat, through his fingers.

Another very long silence. Bail knew Obi-Wan wasn't asleep but in an almost meditative trance. He didn't want to jar Obi-Wan back to awareness, so he waited until Obi-Wan's breath slowly increased and he began to move, drawing his hand lazily across Bail's chest.

Nuzzling his cheek against the top of Obi-Wan's head, Bail asked gently, "So what was that all about?" Sometimes Obi-Wan wanted to talk about it, and sometimes he didn't. "Your last mission was that bad?"

To Bail's surprise, Obi-Wan stiffened in his arms. "No."

"What was it, then?"

Obi-Wan hesitated, then said, "Nothing."

Nothing. Not, I don't want talk about it, but Nothing. Abruptly Bail realized Obi-Wan was hiding something from him. But what could he possibly have to hide? There had never been any secrets between them. Perhaps it was something that embarrassed Obi- Wan's Jedi pride, something he was ashamed to admit. But Bail was not a Jedi. Whatever it was, it wouldn't bother him.

"Come on," he encouraged. "I know I didn't inspire all that intensity. You needed to work something out of your system. It's all right. You can tell me."

Again silence, and Bail knew Obi-Wan was working up the courage to speak. Finally he sighed as if reaching a decision, and pressed himself more deeply into Bail's embrace. "When we came back from our last mission, our transport already had a Jedi passenger. She turned out to be an old lover of Qui-Gon's. They've been spending a lot of time together since we got back, and tonight ... he's with her."

The blood congealed in Bail's veins, even as Obi-Wan's arms tightened around him. Whatever he had imagined had upset Obi-Wan so much, this was definitely not it. All this trauma and passion because Qui-Gon was screwing someone other than his own Padawan? The thought roused an anger in Bail he didn't know he possessed. He was willing to offer his body for Obi-Wan's comfort, but not to assuage his jealousy with a compensatory fuck. He'd never felt so used in his life. He sat up, pushing Obi-Wan roughly off him. "Get out," he spat in cold fury.

"What?" Obi-Wan gasped, shocked.

"You heard me. Get out of my bed. Get out of my home!"

Obi-Wan's eyes flashed as his own anger and frustration took over. "Now you're playing the jealous one?" he scoffed. "That's rich, when you're fucking half the galaxy!"

"But I've never brought anyone else into our bed," Bail accused.

"Why should you care? It's just about sex anyway, isn't it? Aren't you the one who once told me, 'I don't mind if you say Qui-Gon's name. People say all kinds of stupid things when they're coming!'"

Horrified, Bail turned his face away. He had said that once. Maybe he'd even meant it. But that was a long time ago, back when they had first become lovers and he still felt the need to seduce Obi- Wan, to convince him that his love for Qui-Gon didn't have to keep him from sleeping with Bail. Two years had gone by since then. Things had changed. At least, Bail thought they had. Could he have really been so mistaken? He scrambled out of bed, wanting to get far away from Obi-Wan, snatching up the Jedi's tunics and flinging them at him. "Get out!" he screamed, wishing he had strength to beat Obi- Wan black and blue. "I'm not your fuck toy!"

"No? Then what are you?" Obi-Wan shot back, clutching his clothes to his chest.

Bail launched himself at Obi-Wan. So help him, he was going to kill the Jedi. He shoved at Obi-Wan, pushing him out of the bedroom so hard Obi-Wan stumbled. "Get the fuck out and leave me alone!"

"Get the fuck out?" Obi-Wan echoed. "I thought I already did!"

Bail's face contorted in rage, and he snarled, slamming the door on Obi-Wan so hard the pictures on the walls shook.

Obi-Wan couldn't believe Bail was throwing him out. Where had all this come from? Forbidden anger pulsed through him, and he reveled in it. It felt so good - so much better than the shame he would feel if he though about what he had said and done. "Why should you care if I treat you like a whore?" he screamed, fueling his anger with indignation. "Everyone else does!"

"Get out before I call security!"

Even through the door Obi-Wan could feel Bail's fury. He wanted to scream some more, anything to distract himself from the humility of being kicked out of Bail's apartment, but he knew Bail meant it. He might even be calling security right now. He hastily pulled on his clothing, hands shaking so badly he could barely dress himself. As it was, he didn't even bother with the complicated layers of his outer tunic. He dressed only in his undertunic, pants and boots, leaving his extra clothes on the floor, not caring that Bail would probably destroy them. His emotions were as tangled as his tunic, and he didn't want to confront them, refused even to think about what it was he didn't want to confront: his own behavior, Bail's rejection, or the fact that Qui-Gon didn't want him. He threw on his robe and stalked out of the apartment with an angry "Fuck you!" tossed back to let Bail know he was leaving.

Bail heard him and leaned back against the wall, sliding down to the floor, at last able to give vent to his grief now that Obi-Wan was gone and wouldn't have to know how deeply he'd hurt Bail.

Obi-Wan stumbled out of the building onto the landing platform of the public shuttle. He was shaking so hard he could barely stand, and he collapsed onto one of the benches to wait for the next transport. Thrown out -- literally -- and now where would he go? He couldn't bear the thought of returning to the Temple. Qui-Gon had so discreetly let Obi-Wan know not to expect him to return that evening. Their empty quarters would scream at him: "Not you. Never you." Where were they right now? he wondered. Out for a night on the town, perhaps at one of his and Bail's favorite haunts? Or were they already debauching themselves in a long night of sex in Master Nerea's rooms? The thought boiled away inside Obi-Wan's belly, infuriating him -- not least because he would dare even to think of his master so crudely. He didn't want to confront it, to admit that Qui-Gon was with someone else. He had hoped to find refuge with Bail, but that obviously had not gone so well. He shoved that memory away, even less able to deal with what had happened than he was to deal with Qui-Gon. Damn Bail, anyway. He knew Obi-Wan loved his master. It never bothered him before, so why now? He'd even gotten a good screwing out of it, and Obi-Wan hadn't heard him complain at the time. So he could dish it out, but he couldn't take it, was that it? Bail was able to jump anything that walked, but Obi-Wan, who didn't even have the chance to cheat on him, wasn't allowed to even want someone else? Selfish prick.

Something about that thought didn't ring true, but Obi-Wan ignored it. A transport had arrived and left without him even noticing until it pulled away. He stood and walked aimlessly along the promenade, wondering if he should go somewhere and get drunk. He'd never drunk to drown his sorrows before, but it was something Bail would probably do, and the Prince was his only real model for bad behavior. Better yet, he should go somewhere and pick someone up. Everyone else was sleeping around, why shouldn't he indulge himself, too?

But he wouldn't. It wasn't in his nature, and in truth the idea sickened him. This, then, was Obi-Wan Kenobi's pathetic lot: to pine endlessly for the only person he could never have, and get tossed out by the one person he could.

He walked on and on along the promenade, the light now fading completely from the sky. It was still early. Even if he did go home, he'd have a long night ahead of him. He passed sightlessly by stores and restaurants, entering and exiting buildings unawares, his pace picking up speed as if he hoped eventually to outrun his troubles. How long did this pathway go on? Perhaps he would end up walking all the way around the planet, finally ending right back where he began. The idea had a sick appeal to him, somehow summarizing the story of his love life. He walked on, almost running, easily dodging the other people out for their nightly pleasure, friends gathering, lovers meeting, people going out to eat or dance or play, people with engagements, reservations, plans -- people with a life.

Obi-Wan eventually came to a stop in a park, slightly winded, though more from his anger than from physical exertion. He slowly came out of his self-absorption to look around him. A flock of children were playing hide-and-go-seek among the trees. Two elder Quarren were hunched over a chessboard in concentration. A street musician was performing, though no one was paying much attention to her. She was quite good actually, and Obi-Wan wondered if she was a music student, out here for the love of performing rather than to make any money.

Slowly Obi-Wan realized that he had been in this park before, but with Bail, not Qui-Gon. He and Qui-Gon did not go to parks for nighttime strolls. They did not go dancing, and certainly not clubbing. Instead, they sat in their quarters together, studying, reading, discussing a lesson or a problem Obi-Wan was working on, maybe even playing a game or entertaining friends for the evening. Not the pastimes of lovers, but more than just the pastime of a master and apprentice. They were friends. Obi-Wan had thought that was enough, but now he realized it was just that he'd gotten used to having Qui-Gon for himself. Occasionally his master went out with other friends, but he had never stayed out all night with anyone.

Or had he?

Suddenly Obi-Wan realized he must have, but Obi-Wan had just been too young and oblivious to notice. Or perhaps Qui-Gon had been too discreet. Maybe he went out when he knew Obi-Wan was going to be with Bail. He shuddered at the thought, but why should he be so selfish? Qui-Gon was not big on romance, but neither was he completely averse to it. Why should Qui-Gon not have lovers, when Obi-Wan himself, who claimed to love him, did?

With a nauseating lurch, Obi-Wan realized that the emotions dominating him for the past week resembled the dark side more than love. He had been selfish, jealous, and petulant. As if he were emerging from an evil spell, Obi-Wan's memory of the past week returned with chilling clarity. He had been unbearably rude to Master Nerea, who he now realized was a perfectly nice person. If he was honest, he had to admit she was even a good match for his master: even-tempered, but with an impertinence that Qui-Gon and his rebellious nature would enjoy. He remembered now their easy banter, the give and take of their mock arguments, Qui-Gon clearly enjoying being challenged and questioned by an equal, and Obi-Wan finally understood why he could never have a relationship with Qui-Gon. It had less to do with their status as Master and Padawan than it did with an excess of devotion on Obi-Wan's part that bordered on a possessiveness unbecoming for a Jedi whose first devotion should always be to duty.

For a moment, Obi-Wan was overwhelmed with shame and self-loathing for the way he'd been behaving. But that wasn't appropriate either. It was time for him to stop acting like a selfish child and act like a Jedi. He would go home and face that empty apartment. He would spend the entire night in meditation on his misbehavior, and in the morning he would present himself to his master to make apology and accept correction.

He was a Jedi. He would learn from this, and he would move on.

The next morning, not very early nor very late, Qui-Gon Jinn returned to his quarters to find his Padawan kneeling in meditation in the center of the living room. Not wanting to disturb his apprentice, he entered the room silently, but Obi-Wan opened his eyes and slowly leaned forward until his forehead was pressed to the ground, his hands flat on the floor on either side of his head.

"I humbly offer my apology and beg your forgiveness, Master," came Obi-Wan's quiet voice, muffled against the floor. "I have behaved in a manner unworthy of a Jedi. I have been jealous and disrespectful of you. I was rude and disrespectful to Master Nerea. And --." Abruptly Obi-Wan halted in his calm recitation, and Qui-Gon felt his apprentice's thoughts lurch, as if he had just remembered another serious error. Obi-Wan took a deep breath, and when he spoke again, his voice was barely a whisper. "I was absolutely horrible to Senator Organa." He paused, collecting himself. "I spent the night meditating on my failings."

"And evidently you left one out," Qui-Gon mildly observed.

Obi-Wan sighed. "Yes. I'm sorry, Master. There were so many to review."

Qui-Gon almost smiled, but he did not permit himself to. He had been gravely disappointed in his Padawan's behavior since Master Nerea's appearance. Aside from the occasional correction, however, he had not yet addressed the matter properly with Obi-Wan, partly because he wanted to enjoy Master Nerea's company while he could, but also because he hoped Obi-Wan would realize his error on his own.

And he knew that the responsibility for his Padawan's failing ultimately lay with himself. Obi-Wan had always felt fundamentally insecure in his relationship with Qui-Gon, and that could be no one's fault but the Master's. His initial acceptance of Obi-Wan as his Padawan had been ambivalent at best, and their first year together had been a particularly trying one, made even more difficult by Qui- Gon's ongoing self-doubt about Xanatos. No wonder Obi-Wan felt so insecure. No wonder his excessive devotion to his Master had evolved into love, or that his need for approval and validation should in turn manifest itself as jealousy. Qui-Gon had not handled his apprentice's feelings well.

Qui-Gon sat down on the couch, resting his elbows on his knees as he leaned over his kneeling Padawan. "It is not wrong to love, Obi- Wan," he said gently. "But true love builds up. It nurtures and nourishes. It is not demanding or possessive or jealous. That is not love."

"I know, Master," Obi-Wan answered sadly.

"You may sit up, Padawan," he said. "I accept your apology and forgive you. Did your meditation reveal what you need to do now?"

Slowly Obi-Wan rose to a kneeling position, hands resting on his thighs, his eyes downcast. "I'm not sure, Master. I suppose I have to get over it," he admitted with some reluctance.

This was still the wrong approach. "How do you 'get over' love? It's not a virus. Remember, it is not wrong to love."

"No." Obi-Wan paused, thinking. "I'm loving you the wrong way. I should seek your happiness."

"And what about your own?"

"If I'm looking for happiness where it cannot be found, then I should look elsewhere."

Again Qui-Gon suppressed a smile. "Perhaps I should ask you to start dating again, Padawan."

But Obi-Wan only frowned. "We tried that before, Master, and it clearly didn't work. Why should I try to replace love for one person with love for another? Instead of seeking my happiness with someone else, I should seek for it within myself. If I'm content with myself, then I will not look for others to fulfill the lack."

Qui-Gon was impressed. "Very wise, Obi-Wan. I think you have finally figured it out." Satisfied, he leaned back on the couch, crossing his arms. "Now, what am I to do with you? You're getting too old to punish anymore, and I doubt that you need me to assign you extra meditation on the subject."

"No, Master," Obi-Wan admitted. He would be doing plenty of meditation on his own.

"You owe Master Nerea an apology, and then I would like the three of us to go to dinner together. I want her to meet my mature, responsible Padawan, and not my petty, childish one."

Obi-Wan smiled sheepishly. "I would like that, Master."

"And it sounds like you owe Senator Organa an apology as well."

Obi-Wan winced at that. Not that he didn't want to apologize, but he knew Bail would not be as willing to forgive as the two masters. After all, Obi-Wan had not called either of them a whore. In fact, he highly doubted Bail would forgive him at all, and he couldn't blame him. Bail had always borne the brunt of Obi-Wan's dissatisfying relationship with his master, more than the Prince even knew. His prospects didn't look good, but he owed it to Bail to at least attempt an apology. Whether or not it would be accepted would be entirely up to the Prince.

The apology to Master Nerea went well, as was to be expected, and rather than put off the inevitable, Obi-Wan next headed straight for Alderaan's senate office. He debated whether he ought to wait and approach Bail at home that evening, if indeed the Prince would even go home that night, but he opted to go to his office instead in the hope that Bail would be less likely to create a scene and kick him out in front of an audience.

By now Obi-Wan was well known to Alderaan's entire senatorial staff, and the office secretary, Roma, greeted him warmly upon his arrival. "Jedi Kenobi!" she enthused. "It's good to see you again! How are you?"

"I'm fine, thank you." So it appeared Bail hadn't excoriated him to everyone yet. He supposed he could take that as a good sign.

"I'm sorry, but his Highness is in a committee meeting right now. It will be at least an hour before he returns, maybe more. Would you like to leave a message for him?"

A message? What would he say? I'd like to make an appointment to come throw myself on your mercy? Not likely. "No, thank you. I prefer to wait." As bad is it was going to be, it was best done face- to-face.

Obi-Wan settled into a chair, striving to find his calm center despite being interrupted periodically by greetings from others of the office staff. While Bail's friends tended not to like Obi-Wan, most of Bail's co-workers were quite fond of him. Too bad Obi-Wan had behaved lately to justify the opinions of the former and not the latter.

Surprisingly, it wasn't that hard to find his calm center, perhaps because he'd already written off the possibility of any true reconciliation with the Prince. Maybe that was for the best. His relationship with Bail was deceptively simple on the surface. One might even say it was superficial. "It's just sex," or so they had always claimed. The Prince maintained that his relationships lasted an average of three weeks, and they joked that Obi-Wan's allotted time had managed to stretch itself out over two years because if they added up the actual days they had spent together, they were about on target. So after all, Obi-Wan's three weeks had probably expired.

But Obi-Wan knew things were neither as simple nor as superficial as that. Two years was a long time. Whatever it had been in the beginning, whatever had been the conditions under which they had entered into their liaison in the first place, things were different now. What exactly they were he still wasn't sure. At the very least they were friends, but Obi-Wan knew that when their sexual relationship ended, he would not be graduating to the level of Bail's "friends with honors." If things ended between them, it would all end, and he knew if nothing else he would miss Bail's friendship.

More than an hour passed before Bail at last entered the office, discussing the committee meeting with his assistant, Teague. He cut off in mid-sentence when he saw Obi-Wan, who stood nervously at his arrival. Bail's expression hardened, and Obi-Wan didn't think he had ever seen anyone radiate so much anger -- at least not directed at him. Bail approached him and hissed in a low voice, "How dare you show your face here!"

"I-I want to --"

"I don't want to hear it! Leave me alone. I never want to see you again." Bail spoke so low only Obi-Wan could hear him, but no one in the room could mistake his fury as he stalked off into his private office, leaving Teague and Roma staring at Obi-Wan in shocked sympathy. Obi-Wan didn't know what to say to them, didn't know what to do.

At last Teague nodded at the Prince's door. "Go on," he encouraged. "Talk to him."

Obi-Wan doubted Bail would listen, but since he had come here to apologize, he had no choice. He crossed the room and knocked on the door. Instantly it opened, and the expression on Bail's face hit Obi- Wan like a physical blow, so hard he stumbled backward.

"Leave me alone!" Bail snarled. He shot a glance at the secretary. "Call security and have them escort this man out of here."

"No -- I'll go," Obi-Wan stammered. So much for not getting kicked out of the office.

Bail glanced quickly at him, then back to Roma. "Don't let him in here again." Then he turned on his heel and closed the door, the lock clicking audibly.

"What was that all about?" she asked.

Obi-Wan turned around to see her, Teague, and several other staff members gathered around in curiosity. These people had smoothed the way for him with Bail more times that he could count. In fact their relationship had come to depend heavily on Roma and Knight Jerris in Temple Appointments to inform each other about their respective schedules. Obi-Wan even wondered whether any of the security guards would have intervened against him at all. The office staff were quite fond of their Prince, but right now they looked ready to side with Obi-Wan. That was the last thing he wanted. "I assure you," he told them, "the Prince's... displeasure with me is entirely justified."

Unconvinced, Teague asked, "Do you want me to speak to him?"

"No," Obi-Wan hastily protested. "Thank you, but I need to deal with this myself." He hesitated and turned to Roma. "Does he have any engagements this evening?"

She checked the schedule. "None that I know of. I imagine he'll head home at the usual time."

"He seemed tired when he came in this morning," Teague added. "He probably won't have the energy to go out tonight."

No doubt he had been up all last night cursing him in Corellian, Bail's language of choice for swearing.

"I'll let you know if his plans change," Roma said. After all, she had his personal comm frequency.

All of this goodwill.... If only they knew the truth. Obi-Wan nodded his thanks and headed back to the Temple where he threw himself into a vigorous and entirely uncoordinated bout of exercise. His performance was terrible, and he only succeeded in passing the time and wearing himself out. He grabbed an early dinner and headed over to Bail's apartment. He would be early, but so be it. He was in no state to do anything else.

He arrived at the apartment complex, resolved to remain by Bail's door all night if he had to. As he settled on the floor in a meditative posture, he reflected with some comfort that the security guards here were also unlikely to want to throw him out. He might make a strange sight, kneeling in the hallway next to Senator Organa's door, but the guards knew him and hopefully would give him the benefit of the doubt. If only Bail would do the same.

Almost two hours passed before Bail finally returned home. It took him a moment to notice Obi-Wan kneeling in the hallway. As Bail's eyes widened in indignation, Obi-Wan immediately dropped into a posture of submission, his face pressed to the floor.

"What are you doing here?" he heard Bail protest above him.

"I offer my humble and most sincere apology for my behavior last night --," Obi-Wan began.

"Like hell!"

"I have wronged you deeply. I said horrible things meant solely to hurt you. I let my jealousy of Qui-Gon control me. I was vicious, spiteful, and cruel. I took advantage of your hospitality. I --."

"Shut up!" Bail spat. He paced anxiously back and forth in front of Obi-Wan. "What is this? What you doing on the floor?"

Not rising, Obi-Wan replied, "I am making formal apology."

"Is this one of your stupid Jedi rituals?"

Obi-Wan paused, suppressing his resentment at having this particular ritual referred to with such contempt. "Yes."

"I don't give a damn about your rituals," Bail protested, and Obi-Wan could hear the pain in his voice. "You really hurt me."

A lump rose in Obi-Wan's throat. "I know," he whispered brokenly. "I'm so sorry."

"Am I supposed to be impressed?" came Bail's thick retort. "I ought to kick you in the head. Maybe that's why you're on the floor." He nudged Obi-Wan's shoulder with his foot, but the Jedi did not move or speak.

With a sigh that shook his entire body, Bail leaned against the door, looking down at Obi-Wan's prone form. He really did not want to deal with this. He still couldn't believe what had happened. "I never dreamed you could be so heartless," he whispered. "I expect my other friends to be immature and petty, but you're a Jedi. How could you possibly say such things, unless some part of you really meant them?"

Obi-Wan's heart constricted so painfully he almost groaned. "I didn't mean them. That's the point. I didn't behave like a Jedi."

"Small comfort to me," Bail protested. He wasn't ready to deal with an apology from Obi-Wan, especially since he would then have to deal with what had really upset him: the fact that Obi-Wan wanted his master so badly he would treat Bail like shit when he didn't get what he wanted; the fact that Obi-Wan wanted his master; the fact that Bail was only his second choice. He retreated into his anger. It would protect him from his grief. "So what is this ridiculous ritual all about? You look like you're awaiting execution."

He wasn't too far off. "When a Jedi offends another, he prostrates himself before the one he has wronged and catalogues his offenses. Then he awaits the other's forgiveness and whatever punishment is deemed fit."

"Punishment?" Bail echoed without mirth. "That's good. So I do get to kick your head in."

Obi-Wan remained silent, waiting.

"You make such a pretty picture there, and that was a jolly little apology. So proper and correct. You do your duty so well."

As a Jedi, Obi-Wan's highest calling was to his duty, yet Bail made it sound superficial and empty. Perhaps to him it was. He didn't really understand the importance and weight of Jedi ritual. "I'm here because I owe you," he tried to explain.

Bail's voice grew so cold it chilled Obi-Wan's bones. "Well, consider your whore well paid."

Force, that wasn't what he meant! In mounting desperation, Obi-Wan tried again. "I'm here because I want to make amends. I hurt you, and I want to...." Words failed him. Why was this so hard? With another Jedi, he would not have to explain his motives, but Bail was not a Jedi. "I'm here because...." Despair gripped him. Without the familiar language of ritual, Obi-Wan didn't know what to say, and Bail would not forgive him. He couldn't bear it. Broken, he fumbled, "I don't want to lose you. I love you."

There: he'd said it, those words Bail distrusted so much. The Prince considered "I love you" to be a trite phrase that people used to convince others of their sincerity. Not that Bail never used them himself, but he seldom used them in a serious context. He once told Obi-Wan he had two iron-clad rules that no one should ever violate: never say "I love you" as a reply when someone else said it to you first, and never say "I love you" after having sex with someone. In both cases the phrase was cliche, and consequently a sign of falsehood. Obi-Wan hadn't violated either rule, but was Bail right after all? Had he only said it to prove his sincerity? It didn't change his feelings for Qui-Gon, but in its own way it was true. The question was how Bail would take it.

He didn't have to wait long to find out. "I don't believe you," came Bail's expressionless reply.

And at that, all Obi-Wan's remaining hope crumbled to dust. He should have expected it. He thought he had. Yet his heart broke. Without warning tears pressed against his eyes, trickling down the bridge of his nose to the floor. With a tremendous effort, he collected himself enough to say, "I'm sorry. I won't bother you anymore." He stood, hastily wiping his eyes with his sleeve in a gesture that no doubt looked as pitiful as it felt, and headed down the hall.

He was halfway to the turbolift before Bail called, "Wait!" Obi-Wan stopped but did not turn around. Bail rebuked, "I didn't release you yet. I thought you had to stay here until I said you could get up."

Obi-Wan hesitated. He was under no obligation to remain prostrated if it was clear he would not be forgiven. Surely Bail realized that. So...?

Without a word, Obi-Wan returned to his place by the door, pressing his face once more to the carpet at Bail's feet.

With a rustle of his robes, Bail sat down on the floor in front of Obi-Wan, contemplating him. "So how long can I keep you like this? All night?"

"Yes."

"A week?"

Force, he hoped not. "Yes."

"And I get to punish you, too?"

"As you see fit."

"What about corporal punishment? I could spank you, but you might enjoy it. Shall I spank you?"

Obi-Wan ground his teeth. Wasn't putting up with Bail's perverse verbal abuse enough? "As you wish."

"As I wish," Bail mocked. "Indeed as I wish." Let him be humiliated, Bail thought. Let him squirm in mortification. After all, how many people had ever suffered the indignity of being insulted by a Jedi? But his mask of righteous indignation slipped again. "You're a bastard, you know."

"I know."

"You treated me like shit." He tried to sound angry, but he couldn't keep the pain out of his voice.

Softly, Obi-Wan repeated, "I know."

Bail squeezed his eyes shut, feeling at a complete loss. He wanted to forgive Obi-Wan, but he couldn't. It still hurt too much. Hadn't he known that if Obi-Wan ever lost control, he would be injured? That was exactly what had happened. How could either of them mend it? "I really hate you," he whispered. Hated him because he had never wanted a real relationship. Hated him because he didn't know how to deal with this.

Obi-Wan wondered what the rules were for "I hate you." He had no idea, so he remained silent.

Abruptly Bail stood up. "I decree you shall stay like that all night. We'll see how I feel in the morning."

Obi-Wan sighed inwardly and uttered a submissive, "As you see fit."

"I do." The door opened. "Good night, Padawan Kenobi." Bail entered his apartment and closed the door, leaving Obi-Wan alone in the hall.

Great. He had already spent one night in meditation on his knees. Now his body was beginning to protest another night in this less familiar position, but what choice did he have? Damn Bail and his obstinacy! But then he was properly at the Prince's mercy. If this was what Bail wanted from him, then so help him, he would not budge all night, even if his joints gave out on him.

The door opened again, and Obi-Wan heard Bail put something on the wall above him. "I thought the neighbors might complain," Bail explained, sounding smug, "so I made a sign reading, 'Do not disturb him; he is engaged in a religious observance.'"

Oh, no. Had he really? The door closed again, and Obi-Wan resisted the urge to look up. He was probably better off not knowing anyway.

Over the next hour, Obi-Wan had ample opportunity to wonder. As night approached, more of Bail's neighbors returned home, passing Obi- Wan in the hall. While their footsteps never slowed, he could sense their attention directed at him, and he was heartily glad that his face was pressed to the floor, because he flamed in embarrassment each time.

At last to Obi-Wan's great relief, the door opened again, and Bail stood over him, appraising him. "You haven't so much as twitched, have you?" he observed. "What stamina!" He settled down once more on the floor, and Obi-Wan heard him pour something into a glass. Even with his nose pressed to the floor, he could smell the rich aroma of his favorite wine. Bail set the bottle on the floor and took a sip. Evidently there was only one glass. None for him, then. Of course not.

"I realized that as long as I stayed inside," Bail explained, "I couldn't really enjoy the spectacle you are making of yourself. Besides, I'm having trouble coming up with a suitable punishment for you, and I thought I might pick your brain. So, have you done this before? This prostrating thing, I mean."

"Yes."

"What was the longest anyone made you wait?"

"Maybe five minutes."

"What?! I didn't know the Jedi were so soft," Bail disapproved. "So let's get back to corporal punishment."

"I haven't had a licking since I was nine," Obi-Wan pointed out, a little too hastily.

"No whippings? Canings? Never locked in a closet?"

"No."

"Were you ever sent to bed without supper?"

"Yes."

"Well, that's scarcely a hardship, considering you can survive for a week on five peas. So, what did you do to earn the licking?"

Apparently it wasn't enough for him to confess his misdeeds against Bail. He was going to have to make a full account of a lifetime of disobedience. Even as he ground his teeth in frustration, Obi-Wan was secretly pleased. If Bail was rubbing his nose in it -- literally -- that meant eventually he would forgive him. "I snuck into the kitchen for a late-night snack and left the cooler door open. Everything inside was spoiled."

"Disobedient, irresponsible, and wasteful," Bail pronounced, sounding satisfied. "So how are you punished now that you're all grown up?"

Obi-Wan smiled into the carpet. Bail was going to be disappointed. "Extra meditations," he explained, "essays assigned to research and write, extra chores."

Bail grunted his displeasure. "Chores?" he echoed, naming the most promising one. "Like cleaning out the latrines with a toothbrush?"

"As a matter of fact, I did have to clean the toilets in the men's shower room once."

That was better. "And how did you come to deserve that honor?"

Obi-Wan squirmed in chagrin at the memory. "I went out with some of the other Padawans when I was sixteen. We snuck into a club and got drunk. We made quite a scene and had to be rescued by one of the masters." Another embarrassed pause. "Mine, to be specific."

"I bet Qui-Gon was thrilled," Bail remarked with wicked glee. "That's pretty good, but I only have one toilet, so it would hardly be an adequate punishment. What else?"

Obi-Wan scoured his brain for something appropriate, dramatic but not too outrageous. "I once had to clean, wax, and buff the floor of the assembly hall by hand. The hall holds three thousand people." Just remembering it made his knees hurt.

"And what had you done?"

"I disrespected my master," he answered succinctly, praying Bail wouldn't question him further. That had also been when he was sixteen. In fact, the two incidents were related. It had not been a very good year for him.

Bail observed, "My apartment is carpeted, so that won't do. Any other ideas?"

"I can help you with filing or research, or some other task you have to do."

"Like answering my fan mail."

Bail got fan mail?

"No, I don't like any of those ideas," Bail dismissed. "They're not suitably demeaning."

Come on, now, this was getting ridiculous. Obi-Wan didn't like to have his apology treated like a joke. "If I may...," he offered.

"Yes?"

"For the Jedi, punishment is not meant to demean. It's meant to correct, to enlighten, to nurture growth. At the very least it's meant to be useful."

"That makes it even harder!" Bail grumbled. "How am I supposed to come up with something?"

"You don't have to punish me, you know."

"Oh, yes, I do!"

Again Obi-Wan stifled his protest. Bail was the wronged one here, and he had every right to demand whatever he wanted from Obi-Wan. But this was not at all how it worked out when he was making amends to a fellow Jedi, and he doubted it would truly make Bail feel better to assign him some silly chore. "Think about how I offended you," Obi-Wan offered again. "Think about how I can offer restitution. You said you didn't believe me when I said I was sorry. What can I do to convince you?"

"That's not what I said," Bail quietly corrected.

"Yes, you did --"

"No."

Obi-Wan thought back on their conversation. It wasn't easy recalling it correctly. Strong emotions clouded his memory, but he realized Bail was right. He had said he wasn't impressed with Obi-Wan's apology. What he hadn't believed was --.

Oh. He remembered.

"You said you loved me," Bail supplied, his words weighed down with sadness and hope. "So make me believe it. Tell me why. Tell me how." Obi-Wan heard the Prince stretch out on the floor, and when he next spoke, his voice was directly above Obi-Wan's bowed head. "Tell me what it is you could possibly love about me?"

Desperate need radiated from Bail, and Obi-Wan wanted so much to raise his head and take Bail into his arms. But perhaps he had relied too much on actions to convey what could only be expressed in words. Bail was right not to trust the phrase "I love you." It could indeed be trite. But how could Obi-Wan expect the act of love to be any more eloquent, when both of them had cheapened it by giving it the name "casual sex"? This was what he owed Bail, not payment for services rendered, but words to give it meaning. Romantic effluence, however, was by no means Obi-Wan's forte. He did not know what words or sentiments would impress a Prince. He could offer only his heart, and hope that would be enough.

"I love...." He thought back over the past two years, the variety of emotions Bail had roused in him, and he remembered when they first met. "I love the fact that you promised me years ago you would never ask to see my lightsaber, and you've kept that promise." It wasn't exactly poetry, but it meant something to Obi-Wan. "I love the fact that you have been a senator for going on three years now and still haven't become cynical." That was important. On principle, Obi-Wan loathed politicians. But what could he say that was about Bail that captured his spirit - that marked him as different from Qui-Gon? Ah, he knew: "I love the way you sing whenever you're in the 'fresher."

Mortified, Bail protested, "I do not!"

"Yes, you do!" Obi-Wan laughed. "You sing when you're on the toilet, when you're in the shower, even when you're brushing your teeth! I love the way you fuss about the lack of variety in my wardrobe. It means you remember everything I've ever worn. I love the way you love to play darts, even though you're lousy at it. I love the fact that you let me pilot your Firebolt speeder bike."

"Well, it worked, didn't it?" was Bail's arch reply. "You slept with me because of it."

"That's not why I slept with you."

"Why, then?"

"Because ... because you are so beautiful." Oh, this was stupid, surely, but he couldn't help it. There was something so sensuous and indulgent about Bail, something so foreign to the Jedi's more austere sensibilities. Bail's sensuousness had always fascinated Obi- Wan. "Your hair is so thick and curly, I wanted to bury my hands in it. Your eyes are so bright and laughing, your skin is so golden it glows. How could I resist you?"

"But you did."

"Yet you kept asking. Never demanding, always inviting."

"You slept with me because I asked you to?" He was skeptical.

"I slept with you because you wanted me to." Obi-Wan's heart pounded furiously in his chest. Oh, this was coming close to the truth behind it all, the truth behind his jealousy for Qui-Gon and his rejection of Bail. "I love you because you want me," he said, and to his shock he began to weep. "I want you because you love me. You could literally have anyone at all in the entire universe, but you chose me. I'm the one that you want, and I love you because -- because --"

"Oh, Ben, stop." Bail's hands grasped his shoulders, lifting him up, holding him to Bail's chest, running through his hair.

But Obi-Wan couldn't stop. "I love you because you gave me a name that means 'beloved,' and I've never given you a name. You asked me to, but I never did."

"Oh, Ben, it's all right. You wouldn't come up with anything good anyway."

"I've tried."

"I know you have. Everyone else I know, myself included, is always renaming things, handing out nicknames. There's something endearing about the fact that to you I am simply 'Bail.'" He grinned. "Or 'your Highness.' Always so formal, my Bendu."

"I can't help it," Obi-Wan answered sheepishly. "That's just the way I am."

"And that's why I love you, because you are so obstinately you. I love the fact that you have no fashion sense whatsoever, yet you always dress up for me. You don't need to, you know. The truth is, you look dazzling no matter what you wear. Even in your damned whites. I, um --," Bail cleared his throat awkwardly. "I tore up your tunic, by the way."

Obi-Wan laughed against Bail's neck. "I thought you would."

"I saved the pieces."

"Are they salvageable?"

"Not really. I'm so sorry. There, you see? I love the fact that you put up with my self-indulgent eccentricities with such good grace."

"I love the fact that you have self-indulgent eccentricities. We Jedi aren't allowed the luxury."

"I love the fact that you are always going on about how long you can go without food, yet I've seen you put away a five course meal in under thirty minutes. I love your scrupulous devotion to duty. I never dreamed I could love anyone so straight-laced and square. I never dreamed anyone so square could be filled with such passion. I never dreamed that a Jedi could make such an insatiable lover."

"Our reputation for celibacy is so undeserved."

"I'll vouch for that!" Bail laughed in delight. He shifted Obi-Wan in his arms so he could look down into his face. "I love how your eyes are always changing color. I love your moles."

"I love the fact that you gave my moles names."

"Cocoa," Bail touched the dark mole on his cheek, then the lighter one on his forehead, "and Ginger." Then he tickled Obi-Wan's chin. "I love your dimple."

"It doesn't have a name yet," Obi-Wan pointed out.

Ignoring him, Bail continued, "And this braid...."

"I never knew the symbol of a Padawan's journey to knighthood could become an erotic fetish."

"I've got names for this braid, believe me," Bail confessed, twining the plait through his fingers, "but they're all quite blasphemous."

Obi-Wan grinned. "So blaspheme away."

"The leash of lust," Bail offered. "The rope of desire. The chain of my heart. The three-fold path to ecstasy."

Obi-Wan's brow furrowed in curiosity. "Three-fold path?"

Astonishingly, Bail blushed. "Don't ask."

Obi-Wan relented. After all, very few things could make Bail Organa blush. He was probably better off not knowing. "Actually, the strands represent the master, the apprentice, and the Force that binds them."

Bail ran his fingers over the braid. "Or it could be you, me, and...." He faltered, unable to say it even though it was all they had been talking about. Even now he was still uncertain. After all, no matter what, Obi-Wan was still a Jedi. What place could Bail possibly have in his heart? "Anyway, this braid is not mine to name," he admitted wistfully.

"Yes, it is. When I'm with you, it's your braid, and the strands stand for you, me, and --."

Bail stopped him, laying the end of the braid across Obi-Wan's lips. "And," he concluded, tracing Obi-Wan's mouth with the braid. "I wish I could have a braid, too."

Without a word, Obi-Wan reached up and separated three strands of Bail's hair behind his right ear, plaiting them together. He unfastened one of the threads in his own braid and used it to secure Bail's. By the time Obi-Wan was finished, Bail's eyes shone with unshed tears. "Now you have one, too," Obi-Wan pronounced. "For you and me. And."

Bail regarded him, fat tears poised on the dark rim of his lashes. "By the way, I forgive you."

Obi-Wan smiled. "Thank you." He gently brushed the pads of his thumbs along Bail's lashes, catching the tears before they could fall. "You know that phrase you don't like people to say? Consider it said."

Bail's arms twined around Obi-Wan's neck, and he leaned in close, his lips ghosting across Obi-Wan's cheek until the tip of his nose came to rest on "Cocoa." "Consider it said back at you," he whispered.

-Fin-