Chapter 25. Prelude to Love
"Kenobi, you outdid even yourself this time," Siri sniffed appreciatively at the tantalizing aromas that greeted her as soon as she walked in. If there was one positive out of Obi-Wan's confinement to the Temple, it was all these delicious dinners she was treated to, several times a week.
He looked over at her and waved a spoon in greeting. "Dinner will be ready shortly – it smells good, don't you think? This recipe may be a keeper."
Siri came to his side and tasted it, dipping a finger in the sauce.
"Umm," she agreed enthusiastically, ignoring Obi-Wan's frown for ignoring the offered spoon. "You're really been working on your culinary skills as you hang out here at the Temple. Makes sense, all too soon you'll be back on field rations. Has anyone talked to you about when you'll be sent back to the war?"
No sooner were the words out of her mouth then she nearly groaned – why, oh why, had she brought the war up? Why spoil a nice evening reminding them both of the separation ahead, of the return to frenetic action interspersed with too few quiet moments, of the pain, the suffering and the deaths he would have once more to face?
"I'm sorry."
The look on her face must have been terribly apologetic, for he seemed more amused at her reaction to her own words rather than actually attentive to the words themselves.
"Not for a while yet; probably a few weeks or so. The Council is still concerned about my mental stability, if you ask me." He winked, and Siri nearly choked on the cup of caf he had handed her. "I still need my final medical release and I'm waiting for Anakin to contact me. He'll just have to give up the chase for now and for that I must admit I am somewhat pleased." For a moment his eyes clouded over.
"You're afraid for him."
"I'm afraid for both of them," his answer startled her. "I fear Anakin has taken this far too personally, and Ventress– she deserves a chance. If Anakin catches up to her and she pushes him, one of them will die. I want to see her given a chance to discover her true potential."
A flash of rage flared up in Siri and a bit heatedly she snapped, "That woman nearly killed you, Obi-Wan. She deserves justice, not a chance. She brutalized you and even now you're haunted by her, aren't you?"
Suddenly weary eyes stared at her, blinked; the confession was quiet. "I'm haunted by many things, Siri, sights and sounds I must release into the Force each time they return. I've seen too much – far too much for one man – too much for one lifetime. I've been responsible for other things – things perhaps that were beyond my control – but still my responsibility. If saving one tormented soul makes up for that – I have to try."
That was why she loved him, Siri decided then and there. He cared, and was no longer afraid of letting others know. He only hid more personal feelings, like he did with his padawan, perhaps with her, too.
"Let her go."
"I can't."
"She hates you."
"I know," he closed his eyes; then pulled himself together.
"At the moment, yes. She doesn't know anything else." Pained eyes met hers, eyes that pleaded with her to understand.
"Force, Siri, what if she was Anakin – she learned to hate. She can learn not to. If Anakin, or you, were lost to evil and hate, don't you think I would try everything within my power to pull you back as long as I thought I had a chance? No matter the deeds you did? I would not abandon you to your fate without a fight."
The two of them stared at each other without blinking, and Obi-Wan said softly, "Don't be angry, please. I cannot be other than I am."
"I'm not angry; I'm exasperated with you." Siri released her anger with a sigh. The tension lifted.
"You are who you are, and that's why I love you, you big gundark. Your heart is too darned big, and I'm afraid your heart is going to get you killed someday." Siri took the spoon out of Obi-Wan's hand, placed it on the holder, and wrapped her arms around the surprised Jedi as she kissed him. Exultation when his arms came around her ignited tenderness to passion and was repaid when his return kiss was everything she wanted: more, far more, than the gentle kisses of friendship preceding.
It woke new hope within her, the sense of rightness and completion she felt, as if the Force itself was truly urging them together, that this relationship had a purpose and meaning even beyond their comprehension.
"So, ah," it was hard to speak, being draped around Obi-Wan's neck, feeling the heat of his skin under her lips and the thud of his heart against hers, "has the Force helped you come to the same understanding, love, as I have about our relationship – not just what it is now, but what it can be? That as long as we are discreet about it, we have permission from not just the Force, but Yoda and Adi, if we avoid attachment? Tell me you haven't given up thinking about it – of us."
"How could I not think about it? Dreams shape themselves into Qui-Gon's voice, encouraging me and the Force isn't slapping me silly. I sleep with you in my arms and wake to find my arms around my pillow." He kissed her forehead and stepped back, holding her at arm's length, yet still holding onto her.
"But thinking about it and doing something about it – can we truly handle it? Could you let me walk out of here to my death? Could I do the same? Can we let go – because if we can't, we should admit it now before it's too late."
Before either of them could say anything more, Obi-Wan's eyes caught sight of the saucepan which was about to lose its contents in a great slurping bubble.
"Oh, dear!" he exclaimed with a laugh, hastily stirring the pot and turning down the heat. "I think it's a little more than ready, but at least it didn't burn. It should be okay."
Obi-Wan flushed as he glanced at her, recognizing that his words applied to them as well: he had turned down the heat on more than just the food. His awareness of her and his response to her kiss radiated through the Force – a slight self-consciousness that soon evaporated.
Despite the near-eruption of sauce, everything else stayed under control and dinner was soon on the table. By unspoken agreement, they talked of inconsequential things that had nothing to do with them, though Siri couldn't help but wonder if the interruption in the kitchen might have been interpreted by Obi-Wan as intervention by the Force – the crazy man seemed quite adept at finding reasons to avoid pursuing a relationship, no matter his personal inclinations.
Siri accepted a post-dinner drink and settled back with a happy sigh as Obi-Wan took a seat across from her.
"That was just excellent." Her eyes roamed over her friend, noting the healthy flush to his skin and the way his clothing no longer hung on him, such a far cry from the gaunt, unsteady man with weary eyes and unshed horror none too tidily tucked within.
Time, hard work, and inner strength had restored him to a condition even better than before, for while the Jedi would always be in control, the inner man more often peeked through and was given expression.
"Eating like this must be responsible for filling you back out – not that it was that easy to see how thin you were under Jedi tunics, but I could easily see it in your face. As distinguished as you look with that beard, however, I do wish you had stayed clean-shaven."
"I'm not a padawan anymore, and I feel and look like one without it. Besides, it's less trouble on a battlefield and gives me a certain air of authority." His hand rubbed over his chin reflexively as he grinned at her.
"Like Kenobi needs facial hair to give him an air of authority," Siri scoffed. "You know, Qui-Gon would be awfully proud of you if he saw you now. You've come a long way since you were that all but rejected initiate with potential that no one but Yoda saw."
"I've had good teachers along the way. Even Anakin has pushed me to where I am. I am who and what I am because of others, I'm sure; without them, I would be lucky to be a Jedi, maybe a barely competent one, I suppose. 'Capable,' anyway." He grinned at her, clearly beyond annoyance at what had so vexed him once.
Old irritation regarding that cool assessment that had damned her friend with faint praise flared once more. "Qui-Gon Jinn would hear an earful from me were he around. 'Capable.' Stuck between him and the Council, then thrown away for some boy –"
"That 'boy' is my padawan and can't be blamed for Qui-Gon's less than ringing endorsement," Obi-Wan was quick to remind her. "He was right, in a way. "Capable' isn't an insult and I was foolish to take it as such then."
"It's not a compliment, either." She crossed her arms, daring Obi-Wan to disagree.
"Qui-Gon's intent was not to throw any compliments my way; he was intent on following what he thought was the Force's prompting. Siri, please, the past is long over, let it go. All the hurt of that time, all my less than charitable thoughts have been long released into the Force, to be replaced by fond memories of all the good times."
"You're a forgiving man, Kenobi." She settled back, only somewhat mollified, as Obi-Wan stood and shook his head at her before heading to the kitchen.
"Siri, 'capable' is just one word meaning 'can do the job.' Sure, it may imply to minimum standards, but that's not the only definition. The opposite of 'capable' is 'incapable' and no one doubts I'm capable; not even Anakin or," he gave her a side long glance and grinned, "you, though you certainly had a pretty low opinion of me for years, admit it."
"You were just as irritated with me as I was with you," she countered, getting up to help Obi-Wan by clearing the table as he set about washing up.
"Never," he denied, hiding a grin.
"Liar. I thought Jedi didn't lie." She flipped a finger full of sudsy water in his face, making him sputter and gasp.
"I wasn't. I was far more irritated with you than you were with me," he stated, and promptly dumped a handful of water over her head. She stood there dripping as they both stared at each other, and burst out laughing as water dripped - plop plop plop - onto the floor at their feet.
Her clothing was virtually clinging to her, warm and sudsy. She futilely tried to brush it off, but she was too wet for mere hands, even a dishcloth, to adequately dry her. With an apologetic laugh, Obi-Wan gave that up and tentatively offered a solution.
"Why don't you – ah, if you want to dry your clothes, I'm sure you can fit into a set of my tunics unless you want to walk dripping through the corridors to your own quarters. I mean, I like the wet tunic look on you, but it must be uncomfortable."
Siri all but sighed. Obi-Wan might be male, but unfortunately, even more than a man, he was a gentleman. Gentlemen were far too considerate. He was on the right track, but totally oblivious to the possibilities. It had been the perfect opportunity to suggest she just slip out of the wet clothes – Force, they'd have been off, and his, too, more than likely right after the, "Why don't you…."
Well, if one wanted something done, one just had to take the initiative.
"Mmm, or more interesting, we could, ah, shed them entirely," Siri ventured. Regardless of the way they had skirted the subject earlier, it was on her mind if not his, and the way he had reacted then; heck, the way his eyes lingered on her wet form now, well, he was interested. Hesitant, unsure, but definitely still interested. He only cocked an eyebrow at her, pretending to misunderstand.
"We?" He cleared his throat, glanced at her, then away. "I'm not soaked like you – drat!"
Water dripped down his face and puddled on the floor at his feet. Unnoticed, a now empty bowl clattered to the floor as Siri's breath caught in her throat. Gods - the thin, informal, and now somewhat sodden tunic more than rather satisfactorily revealed some of the underlying musculature.
Were he frozen in carbonite he would make an exquisite statue: noble, beautiful, and forever unattainable. The latter condition definitely ruled that option out; she wanted his arms around her as his lips demanded her kisses; she wanted to feel warm, pliant flesh against her, not cold and unyielding.
By the Force, she wasn't going to let this moment slip by, not this time. It was now – now or never; perhaps he knew it, too, looking up at her in surprise after an instinctive and ineffectual attempt to brush himself dry. The poor man - he looked like he wished desperately to back away from her as much as he wished to take her up on her offer – caught off guard and torn between two equally compelling instincts.
Siri pinned him physically against the counter, literally giving him no room to avoid dealing with the issue.
"Obi-Wan." She captured his hand and kissed it, a delicate kiss on the palm, another on the inside of his wrist. She could see the pulse in the side of his throat; his heart was speeding up, though he showed no other reaction other than slightly heightened breathing as if trying to clamp down on any external reaction.
He isn't going to make this easy for me, is he? You must admit your approach is anything but romantic – more like a battlecruiser on hormones. Reason him into this.
"The Code forbids attachment, but neither the Code nor the Order mandates celibacy, only encourages it. As padawan to Qui-Gon Jinn, we both know you weren't taught to embrace celibacy as a path to the Force. You've chosen it, Kenobi, unless you indulge away from the Temple."
A small smile teased at her lips, remembering full well long ago words on the pursuit of mere pleasure as a selfish indulgence, self-gratification inappropriate to a dedicated servant of the Force. He would have had opportunities aplenty, temptation almost certain, for few Jedi were immune to the mystique that attracted partners desirous of bedding a Jedi, of one night's gratification and a lifetime of stories. Few succeeded, but not all failed.
Even knowing that, even remembering that one memorable – and one rather frustrating for Obi-Wan – shared mission they had shared reminiscences of the other night, she was somehow pleased when he merely shook his head and continued to look steadily at her. Listening, not arguing with her; not pulling his hand away either.
This was an issue of doubt, she decided – self-doubt, of his ability to remain true to his vows to the Force, to remain faithful to his duty to others above self. Siri took a deep breath and continued.
"That leaves the attachment issue, and quite frankly, if we take the next step, have we truly altered what's already between us?" His eyes flickered; he was clearly considering the merit of her words. "I would not love you more whether I walk out that door or walk into your arms; can you say different?"
Something indefinable seemed to relax within Obi-Wan; as if her words connected his concerns about the potential consequences of behavior into something he could measure against existing feelings and wishes, a contextual bridge he had been seeking without success. Obi-Wan had never needed to reconcile his human self against his Jedi self, not in many long years; what had long been in harmony had been torn asunder by that woman and the pieces no longer fit so smoothly.
That was the tragedy of Rattatak, yet the triumph was still to come. Somehow, she knew that, knew the Force knew it as well. It was time for Obi-Wan to know it, as well.
"The only thing that matters is what you want and think is right. Only you. The Force does not object; Yoda and Adi both say our love transcends attachment. We've loved each other for years, yet we have always remained good Jedi. You wouldn't be on the Council if you weren't. We can love each other without forsaking our duty and our vows to follow the Force above all else."
Obi-Wan continued to look steadily at her, but he seemed to be retreating into the warm embrace of the Force. Seeking its guidance, perhaps, rather than retreating from her. She hoped. If he turned away from her now, she would never bring this up again. It would only be awkward for a few minutes, until one of them broke the tension with some humor – they knew each other too well and loved each other far too much for this to come between them.
Her ears caught the faintest hitch in his breathing, her eyes the slight twitching of his fingers as he let her speak. Needing to know that whatever answer he found in the Force, it was to the right question?
Force, why didn't he say something? Anything? Frown? Smile?
Did he not hear the Force clearly – did doubt and desire cloud his less than pure connection, even now? The Force spoke; he listened but was it possible he did not hear?
She would just have to persuade him that this was truly no tease on her part, but serious; a desire weighed and measured and not made in the heat of some – admittedly damp – moment, but one acknowledged and accepted by the Force.
"You've already admitted you thought of us being together as a way to keep your sanity during that horrible experience. Make that dream a reality. It – it won't be my first time, you already pretty much know that. There have been a few men who have shared my bed and each time I – I closed my eyes and pretended… it was you. Something was lacking each time, because it wasn't you, because I didn't want -," he sucked in his breath and gently caught her hand as she bit her lip, silent because he knew somehow she needed to speak her heart, "I didn't want to do what I was - doing – without you. I was in the wrong arms. Let it be really you this time, let reality and dreams be the same."
Those encounters had all been years ago, and in truth, not willingly engaged in, even that first time when she had initiated it. She had never really quite admitted the truth, even to herself, until now.
Each encounter had been her choice on some level, but a choice made for all the wrong reasons.
Going deep undercover and infiltrating Krayn's ring of slavers had required that Siri engage in all sorts of behaviors a Jedi would find abhorrent. She knew that. She would have to lie and steal, tear families apart and condemn the innocent to a life of pain and degradation. She had known with little doubt that she would endure the same in establishing herself.
She had had no wish to compromise her morals or her body but she had also known she would compromise anything but her soul for the goal of ending piracy and slavery, no matter the sacrifice required.
Such actions, if required of her, would be a noble sacrifice, she had thought, beforehand, before reality and the ugliness had broken her illusions, far too late.
Expecting the worst, she had thought to prepare for what she might face, mentally, physically and emotionally in those ways which had then seemed best. That decision also allowed her to satisfy her curiosity about something she had no experience with.
In the naivety of youth, she therefore had chosen to have her first experience with a friend, a fellow Jedi, beforehand, a chance to share physical pleasures when it would be a pleasure, not a possibly violent and /or unwilling activity. Garen had been willing, indeed had half-heartedly teased her with suggestive offers for years, never knowing his best friend had fallen in love with her – or had had to walk away from her years before.
"Are you sure?" He had asked her just the one question, not why now? Not why me? Just- are you sure you want to do this?
Her heart cried no; her lips said yes and she buried her regrets and gave herself to the experience as her hands traced bare skin, warm skin, skin that was not his, accepted kisses from lips that were not his lips, all too aware of his maleness as she had once thought to know another padawan's long ago and been denied.
Physically satisfying, yes; emotionally it had left some need unsatisfied because it hadn't been with the one it should have been.
It had prepared her for the unwelcome encounters she'd found nearly impossible to endure undercover, unable to use the Force to protect herself for fear of giving herself away.
Each time, however, inside her soul had cried and her mind had recoiled; the sacrifices she had made in hopes of saving countless others had torn the naivety of a young woman to shreds.
She had learned much in Garen's arms, long ago: passion of the body and the hollowness once passion had been spent.
What was missing was love – a total sharing of the self – and for two Jedi, that could be almost a merging of souls, not just bodies – the total union of two beings, connected with each other and within the Force as well. What had been missing was the man she loved: Obi-Wan.
Had he known, then? Was that an issue for him?
"Does that bother you, that I've known other men?"
His free hand raised to gently brush her cheek; he rubbed his thumb under her eye and she leant her cheek into his palm as his hand opened to cup her face. Such a gentle and loving touch; it was all she really wanted from Obi-Wan, gentle and loving touches from a gentle and loving man. No matter how much more she wanted, this would be enough for her, if this was all he could give.
"No. Not if it was something you wanted." Obi-Wan said quietly. The slight hesitation clearly told Siri he wished to reassure her with a carefully considered and truly sincere answer. "You know all I've wanted for you is to be happy and satisfied as a Jedi, and also as a woman, if you so chose. I never expected you to pine over the 'us' that never was."
"You were always in my thoughts, even if you didn't know it." She lightly kissed his palm as he brushed her face and then drew back; a bit shy with this unfamiliar side of herself.
When uncertain, forge ahead with confidence, so with a grin, she poked him in the chest. "Even when they didn't know it, it was always you in my bed, yours the arms around me and yours -."
As if to silence her, he abruptly leaned forward and wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close. A kiss interrupted what she was about to say, a deeply passionate kiss that sent a shiver down to her very toes. "I get it, Siri." There was no doubt, none at all, at the amusement sparkling in his eyes or the desire; no doubt that he had finally heard the Force. It now seemed almost to be dancing around them as they stood there, the eyes of each searching the other.
"What if I – I don't want to ever hurt you again as I did before," he murmured; a hand lifted to caress her face, hesitated and remained half extended to her, palm up. "What if we can't handle it?"
Was that a plea, to her or to the Force; perhaps a need to openly acknowledge the pain of the past? To examine in the light of hindsight, to speak of what had never been spoken and thus to release it and be forever freed of it?
Or could it be her he doubted – not her love, never her love, but whether her love would remain subservient to her devotion to the Force? He would step back for all time, should he think the Jedi in her to be overwhelmed by a woman's love for a man. He had done so once before, thinking it forever, so many years ago, when he had broken her heart – and his own.
Perhaps one, perhaps the other – even, perhaps, both, but this was after all Obi-Wan Kenobi – a man who shouldered the shadows of the past because in his mind, no one else should have to. A burden named guilt; a confession of past wrongs and a willingness to accept responsibility for wrongs of the future should such prove necessary.
If nothing else, Siri could lift that burden by facing a man who never turned away from the truth once revealed – she would illuminate and name it.
"Oh, love, is that what has been holding you back all this time? You can't hurt me anymore than you'd hurt yourself, but it's different – we're different now. I know you, I love you as a friend; I'll always be your friend. If we find we can't be lovers as well, we will always be friends, and we will still love each other. I don't need you to love me; I don't need to love you either. I just do, just like I breathe, eat and sleep. Like the Force, you're a part of me now, like it or not.
"Oh, love," her hand hovered, indecisive if she should touch him or not, "be your master's padawan, live in the moment and open yourself to the Living Force, let it guide us into the ultimate expression of our love – or separate us."
As if on cue, the Force brightened around them both as if in agreement, soft waves wrapping and entwining the two Jedi in something almost like a caress. If her focus hadn't been on Obi-Wan, Siri would have questioned why it seemed almost eager to see them united, as if nudging along destiny.
Only a ghost knew…that Siri was the key to unlocking Obi-Wan's heart, the key to the Chosen One's salvation or damnation. Upon Obi-Wan's answer, the fate of the galaxy might well rest.