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**Forbidden**
He wasn't sure when he realized it. It wasn't some sudden, blinding revelation – more like a gradual acknowledgement of the truth. It crept upon him subtly, almost insinuating its forbidden presence into his mind.
He was glad of it nevertheless.
It was a strange feeling – this subtle joy, a confidence in something more. He had not possessed it before. It changed him, now, little by little. Sometimes, only sometimes, he would meditate and instead of focusing on the Force as was proper – he would focus on that feeling inside.
It made him tremble. It made him feel like he was bursting with energy, ready to leap into song as if this was some ancient tale told by a fireside. It made him weak, yet it made him strong. He was vulnerable – so very vulnerable, concerning that. And yet, this feeling gave him a sense of complete purpose and contentment. Restlessness became a feature of the past when he dwelled on it.
It.
Love.
A feeling, a sense of knowledge spoken of in many a tale – a feeling rebuked and rejoiced in. Described in every way – in the blooming of a flower, in the birth of new life. Priceless beyond measure.
Dangerous, as well. He knew that. He was a Jedi; he could not help but know it. It had been part of his training, part of the knowledge his Master had imparted to him. It was a driving force, a truly powerful thing. One would seek for an eternity, do anything to capture it, to feel it. For love, one would do anything. Die, turn - sacrifice.
For love, it was worth it.
The danger didn't matter. Love was a beautiful thing, pure and untainted. Love, in and of itself, was good. Only when it was tainted by obsession and never-ending desire did it become as the Jedi Council had proclaimed – a dangerous attachment.
Attachment. Such a simple word for such a complex, unknowable thing.
It was forbidden; he was a Jedi. He would hide it, bury it within his heart and the very depths of his mind. He would treasure it; hold it in his mind's eye. He would never let go of it. It was his.
He would go on and be obedient to the Jedi Council. They would never suspect he carried such heresy in his heart. He knew that others saw it, at times – saw that look in his eyes and recognized the shadow of emotion for what it was, for they had known that feeling themselves. Yet they kept silent, seeing also the stillness. That it was unspoken.
They were wise in it, those who truly knew of love. Love was a knowledge that could never be found – only attained, in some twist of fate. In some given grace.
He would remain silent and do his duty. But he – he would look. He would hold in his mind that strange, beautiful fluttering of joy. And know in his heart the truth of it all. And he would hope it was enough.
That he, Obi-Wan Kenobi, loved Siri Tachi.
He would look upon her, the defiance she wore proudly in her brown, leather unisuit that clung to her body. He would see the curve of her lips, the strong jaw line that spoke of her stubbornness. He would look into her eyes, into those blue depths that showed him so many things, even as he looked upon the world through the lens of her.
He had known her for many years. They had met when they were both Padawans, though she was two years his junior. He remembered how on their first mission together, they had managed to bring out the worst in each other. He could still see in his mind the moments that made that animosity turn to a wary respect – and then, friendship. Missions came and passed in the way of the Jedi, constantly moving, and over much time he grew to know her – the depth of her, the spirit.
That spirit of fierceness, that constant testing and seeking. She was never satisfied with good enough. Physically small, she made up for it in wiry toughness and a mental resilience he could only admire. He remembered her caustic bluntness and, just sometimes, that gentleness so few ever saw.
She was a Jedi. Love was forbidden. And to cast such upon her was not something he would do, not something he could bring himself to burden her with. He would be with her sometimes, meeting her every few years in the nomadic manner of the Jedi. He would watch her, and be with her.
He would love her, and it would be enough.
Silently, quietly, Obi-Wan came out of his meditation. He knelt in the cool, wet grass of the Thousand Fountains, his favorite garden in the Jedi Temple. Physical sensations returned to his mind, and he heard the soft, constant rush of water. The gentle splashing, erratic yet soothing. The rich scent of the greenery and the exotic plants. His eyes opened to a new richness, green and blue in every shade imaginable. Sparks of color, like electricity – orange and red, purple and yellow.
Knees wet and body uncomfortable from the long stillness, he rose, his dark brown robe falling around him. It was time to return to reality. Time to go back to Anakin, meet with the fourteen year old for a lightsaber drill. Time to guide his young Padawan to the way he himself no longer completely followed. Time to return to the life of a Jedi.
But his heart remained free – and as he walked from the garden, for once even the Jedi could see.
End.