Day Three
Bail woke early, from dark dreams filled with pain and grief. Remembering Obi-Wan's promise to leave, he jerked, turning to find Obi-Wan deep asleep next to him. His relief was so great he almost wept.
For a long time he lay there, watching Obi-Wan, remembering all that had happened the night before. Obi-Wan lay on his stomach, his face turned away from Bail, his back rising and falling in even breaths. He seemed so far away, so fragile and weak. A memory came back to Bail, words Obi-Wan had said last night: "I wish I had the courage to take my life." Suicide was a mortal sin for the Jedi. Was Obi-Wan so far gone that he would seriously contemplate such a drastic act? The thought was unbelievable, and yet after Obi-Wan's confession, Bail knew it was all too possible.
He could not allow that to happen. He could not allow Obi-Wan to be consumed by his own guilt. Bail had told Obi-Wan that he couldn't rearrange his schedule for him, but now he knew he must. Obi-Wan's crisis of faith must be his priority. In all honesty he could call it a crisis of galactic significance. His mind made up, Bail slipped quietly out of bed so as not to disturb his sleeping lover. He had arrangements to make.
*****
Several hours later, Obi-Wan's still had not woken up on his own. He had always been an early riser like Bail, and Bail had never known the Jedi to sleep in so late -- much later than yesterday. It disturbed him to realize how deeply Obi-Wan's spiritual and physical exhaustion must run. He sat carefully on the side of the bed, gently brushing his fingers through Obi- Wan's hair, but still the Jedi did not wake up. Still stroking Obi-Wan's hair, Bail called, "Ben."
The name got him, as always. Obi-Wan's eyelids fluttered open, and his gaze took in Bail, then the late morning sun at the window, instantly alert. At least that had not changed. "What are you still doing here?" he asked.
"Waiting for you to wake up so that you, Leia and I can get going to Shadowcliff. At this rate we won't get there until after lunch."
Bail had a feeling this news would fail to please Obi-Wan, and he was not disappointed. "Shadowcliff?" Obi-Wan protested, sitting up. "We can't! You and Leia-- it will look suspicious."
"It is out of the ordinary, but I have been known to disappear abruptly, so it won't attract any particular notice."
Not surprisingly, Obi-Wan failed to be convinced, "But --"
"Hush," Bail chided, laying a finger to Obi-Wan's lips. "You don't have a choice. You need it, so we're going." He quirked a reproachful eyebrow. "Don't make me call in my guards to tie you up."
Bail stood up. "You're all packed already, and I even laid some clothes out for you, so hurry up and get dressed. It's late, so you'll have to forego breakfast, but I know how much you hate eating, so you won't miss it much."
Reluctantly Obi-Wan got out of bed. He dressed swiftly, and within a quarter of an hour they were packed up and loaded into the skyhopper, Leia bouncing on the back seat in her excitement to get to the Organa family's mountain retreat.
"Have you ever been to Shadowcliff?" she asked Obi-Wan eagerly.
"Yes, I have," he answered as Bail started the 'hopper and they took off. "But it's been a very long time."
Disappointed, Leia's brow furrowed in thought. "Since before I was born?" she asked.
"Long before you were born," he assured her. In truth he couldn't remember how long it had been.
This cheered Leia up, since she had made a number of significant improvements to Shadowcliff in her life in the form of piled rocks, pressed flowers, and collected beetle shells, interesting twigs, and other natural treasures. If Uncle Ben hadn't been to Shadowcliff in her lifetime, then it was just as if he'd never been there at all.
As they flew out of the city, Obi-Wan continue to fret. "Are you sure it's --," he stopped himself from saying "safe." He didn't want to alarm Leia.
Bail knew exactly what he meant. "Yes, it's perfectly safe. I've notified the caretakers, who are provisioning the house even as we speak, so we won't need to go to town for supplies, and no one will know you're there. And we hardly need bodyguards when we have a Jedi as our guest."
Leia sat forward so she could lean over the front seat. "Can we go fishing?"
"Yes, we *may*," Bail replied, answering her and correcting her grammar at the same time. He glanced proudly at Obi-Wan. "Leia is quite an accomplished angler."
"Do you know how to fish?" Leia asked her uncle.
"Yes," he hesitated. Not that he had much chance to on Tatooine. He probably hadn't fished since the last time he had been to Shadowcliff.
Leia picked up on his thoughts. "But not since I was born, right?"
"Right."
That would have to do. It irked Leia that her uncle already seemed to know everything. She wanted to show him *something* new. "Can you play the flute? I mean, *may* you play the flute?" she corrected herself.
Obi-Wan smiled as Bail stifled his laughter. "No, I *can't*."
Well, that was something, at least. She was glad she had brought her flute with her. Appeased, she turned to her father, "Can I -- may I -- can I drive now, Bobo?"
Bail laughed. "You *can* drive, but you *may* not."
"Awww...."
Obi-Wan shot Bail a surprised look. "She knows how to drive?"
"Of course she does."
Obi-Wan's skepticism hardly diminished. "Isn't she a little young?"
Bail scoffed, "Excuse me, but aren't you the one who brought his nine-year- old apprentice to my house and told me to let him pilot my most prized speeder bike? 'Don't worry,' you said. 'He's a podracer!'"
The reference to Anakin hit Obi-Wan like a slap in the face, but he was determined to echo Bail's nonchalance, pointing out, "He didn't so much as scratch the paint, did he?"
"Well, if it's good enough for your Padawan, it's good enough for my daughter. She's been driving since she was eight." Sensing Leia's impending objection, Bail warned, "But you still may not drive today, Leelee. We want to get there as soon as possible."
Leia pouted, "You've never let me fly your speeder bike."
Bail cleared his throat, uncomfortable. Proud as he was of his daughter's accomplishments, he nevertheless could still be the protective father. "When you are twelve," he said flatly, picking an arbitrary age that was far enough in the future not to leave room for any begging. "Talented you may be, but you're not a podracer, Leelee."
"What is a podracer?" Leia asked. Surely if some nine-year-old could do it, she could, too.
Glaring at Obi-Wan, Bail deferred, "I'll let you field that one, Uncle Ben, and don't forget all the gory bits."
Thus put on the spot, Obi-Wan obliged, dredging his memory for stories and statistics that Anakin used to plague him with, striving to relay them with some of his Padawan's old enthusiasm. Surprisingly it was nice to talk about Anakin, albeit in a round-about way. Then again, that was probably the only way Obi-Wan could talk about him. The subject had been so painful for so long, Obi-Wan was pleased that memories of the boy he once loved had not been completely subsumed by the man he had become.
The conversation about podracing somehow came around to thrantas, and from there followed a meandering path through a number of different subjects. The trip passed pleasantly, and before they realized it they were in the mountains, winding through passes and finally arriving at Shadowcliff in the early afternoon. The house was wedged high up in the mountains, a good thirty kilometers from the nearest town, and surrounded by plenty of wilderness to be explored. A small but lively stream cascaded down the mountain, passing next to the house. The air was clean and sharp and smelled of pine.
Leia leaped out of the 'hopper as soon as it stopped and ran to the stream to pay it ritual homage. Her duty accomplished, she raced back to Obi-Wan and grabbed his hand, pulling him up the pathway to the house, happily pointing out the sights along the way, a particular tree she had climbed, a rock she had found, a burrow in which a ground squirrel had once lived. Once in the house, she dragged him from room to room, giving the grand tour, including a detailed history of all her many adventures at Shadowcliff over the last decade.
Obi-Wan was reassured to discover that the house had changed little since he had last been there. The scores of family pictures that lined the walls had been updated, the odd piece of furniture or rug replaced, the array of books, games, and knick-knacks had been added to, but in essentials it was the same, and Obi-Wan had to struggle to hold back a sudden flow of tears. Finally here was one place he knew from the old days that had not changed. The sounds and sights and scents were all familiar. He could almost imagine he had traveled back to a time when he had been happy, when there was a Republic, when the Temple still stood on Coruscant, and Anakin was still a bright-eyed child. And even farther back, when Obi-Wan was still a Padawan himself, the first time he had visited Shadowcliff while on a brief vacation to Alderaan, when he and Bail had been lovers for only a year. He could imagine that when he left Shadowcliff he would return to Qui-Gon at the Temple on Coruscant, waiting for him with their next assignment.
He knew it wasn't true. None of those people or places existed anymore, at least not as he had known them. But for now he wanted to pretend.
They had a late lunch, then went for a walk along the stream, Leia keeping a sharp watch for the best places to dig up worms for fishing. As evening fell, the air grew chilly, and they returned to the house to build a fire in the fireplace. They spent the evening much as they had the previous one, playing games and enjoying one another's company. The excitement of arriving at Shadowcliff, not to mention the fresh mountain air and high altitude, proved to be too much for Leia, who drowsed off to sleep long before her usual appointed bedtime. Bail gathered her gently into his arms and carried her off to her bedroom.
When he returned from tucking her into bed, Bail found Obi-Wan standing in the darkened living room, staring out into the night sky, a shadow against the stars. The sight chilled him, and he pressed up behind Obi-Wan, his arms sliding tightly across the Jedi's chest as if he would keep him from flying away into the night. Obi-Wan said nothing, passively accepting the embrace, and again Bail was struck by how much Obi-Wan had changed. He sighed, pressing his forehead to the back of Obi-Wan's head. "It is as if you're not even here."
Obi-Wan recognized Bail's grief, but he literally had nothing left to offer, not even himself. "I assure you, insofar as I am anywhere, I am here."
But his words only made Bail hold on tighter. "All day long I've watched you with Leia, talking to her, playing with her, laughing. To all appearances you're fully present, yet there is no light in your eyes. You are a ghost."
What could Obi-Wan say? It was true. "But you are not a ghost." He leaned his head back against Bail's shoulder, sinking into his embrace. "You are flesh and blood. You are warm, you breathe, you have a pulse."
Bail raised a hand to stroke Obi-Wan's hair. "Then let me love you tonight. Let me warm you."
Bail's tenderness only roused a fresh wave of despair in Obi-Wan. He didn't even know what it was he was afraid of, and he was too tired to care anymore. "I can't," he breathed. "I just can't. I'm sorry."
He could feel Bail trembling against him, struggling to hold back his emotion. He bowed his face into Obi-Wan's neck, and when he spoke, his lips brushed against Obi-Wan's skin, his voice shaking with quiet rage. "You believe you don't deserve it." He almost hated Obi-Wan in that moment, almost wished he had never come at all. He needed Obi-Wan so desperately. They had so little time, and yet Obi-Wan kept closing himself off. Even now, holding the Jedi, Bail could barely even feel him. "How long are you going to punish yourself?"
"I'm well beyond punishing myself," Obi-Wan answered quietly. Bail's arms tightened further around him, and Obi-Wan felt tears against his neck.
"You selfish bastard," Bail quietly accused, his voice taut with anguish. "Why did you come here at all?"
Obi-Wan wished desperately he could make it better, but he knew he couldn't. "I came because I could no longer stay away. I *am* selfish."
Bail wept openly now, and all Obi-Wan could do was let him. All he could do was stand there and be washed by his lover's tears. Such a waste of water. Obi-Wan had given up the practice long ago, had learned how to cry tears of pure salt, crystals that hardened on his cheeks, curing his skin like leather, toughening him. Obi-Wan had learned well how to do without -- without water, without greenery, without joy, without companionship, without purpose. He had learned how to survive. Well, not learned exactly. Rather he found that even when the worst had been done, even when you have lost everything, you still endure, whether you want to or not.
"Where I live," he offered, "I don't have much to do except think. Sometimes I look back on my life and ask what I have to show for it. My master murdered, my padawan fallen, the Jedi dead, and a galaxy in chaos. I can't say I've accomplished much of value. I have gained no wisdom or insight. But I'm still alive.
"They say where there is life there is hope. I've come to believe hope is just another word for breathing. But perhaps that's something after all. So the task will fall to me to teach these children not because I am wiser or stronger or better than anyone else. Force knows, I'm not. But it will fall to me because, quite simply, I'm the only one left." He sighed, looking out at the stars. "I find some comfort in the knowledge that even I am better than nothing."
Bail had ceased crying and listened. For a long time he remained silent, contemplating what Obi-Wan had said. At last he answered, "That's it, then? The collected wisdom of a lifetime: we go on because our hearts keep beating, and there is no justice."
"No, there is no justice," Obi-Wan gently replied. "But we still have to choose sides."
Another long silence. Force, Bail sighed, he had lived his entire life in service to others, they both had, and what the hell had it gained them? Everything they had once believed in was gone. They had sacrificed their own wants and needs for a greater purpose that no longer existed. What did they owe the universe any more? But it was too late for them, too late for anything but a private change of heart. "Then I choose your side."
Something twitched inside Obi-Wan, something stirred and fought to open its eyes. He didn't want it to, would prefer for it to remain in hibernation. It would hurt too much to have it live again, and yet he had come here, hadn't he? He loved Bail, didn't he? Didn't deserve him, no, hadn't earned this. He knew it couldn't be, couldn't last. It would wake only to die again, but for just one moment couldn't Bail love him? Couldn't he just hold him? Surely Obi-Wan could allow himself that one, small comfort.
His breath hitched in his chest, and Bail could feel the struggle within him. "Tell me what you want, Ben," he begged. "Kiss you, fuck you, leave you alone. Whenever you ask, I'll do it."
Obi-Wan turned in Bail's arms, leaning into him. "Just tell me that story again, the one where we live happily ever after."
"Ah. Fairy tales," Bail answered, with a trace of bitterness. "I'm good at that. Come on, then." He took Obi-Wan's hand and led him into the shadows of their bedroom. "Now, how does it start? Ah, yes, I remember." His voice drifted into the sing-song of storytelling. "In a time that always was, and never will be, you and I will move to Ithor, to live in the sacred forest. I will take up law, and you will teach martial arts."
"No," Obi-Wan corrected as they settled onto the bed. "I want to garden."
"Garden?" Bail repeated, as he cradled Obi-Wan in his arms, the way he held his daughter, rocking him. "That's new. All right, we'll live on a small farm, and you will grow flowers and vegetables and whatever else tickles your fancy."
"And Leia can raised thrantas."
"Now you're on her side? Very well. If we're living on a farm, I suppose we might as well build a pen for thrantas." He paused, considering. "If neither of you are going to do any honest work, then I won't either. Instead, I believe I'll write. Bad novels, and even worse poetry. We'll live in a two-story house, and we'll brew our own beer, and go on picnics every day, and -- does Ithor have a sea?"
"It has several, in fact."
"Then we'll live on a lake, with a river that flows to the sea, and every summer we'll sail around the world." He stared down into Obi-Wan's eyes, brushing the hair off his forehead. "And the best of it is that no one will ever bother us, and we will bother no one, until the end of our days. And we will live happily ever after."
Obi-Wan gazed up at Bail, and the Prince at last could see a faint spark in his eyes. "Promise me we'll do it," Obi-Wan begged.
It grieved Bail to make a promise he would never keep, but if all he could do was lie to please Obi-Wan, then it was a small sacrifice to make. "I promise," he assured his love. "I swear it, by all I hold dear."
/I swear it,/ he thought, /by you./
Bail woke early, from dark dreams filled with pain and grief. Remembering Obi-Wan's promise to leave, he jerked, turning to find Obi-Wan deep asleep next to him. His relief was so great he almost wept.
For a long time he lay there, watching Obi-Wan, remembering all that had happened the night before. Obi-Wan lay on his stomach, his face turned away from Bail, his back rising and falling in even breaths. He seemed so far away, so fragile and weak. A memory came back to Bail, words Obi-Wan had said last night: "I wish I had the courage to take my life." Suicide was a mortal sin for the Jedi. Was Obi-Wan so far gone that he would seriously contemplate such a drastic act? The thought was unbelievable, and yet after Obi-Wan's confession, Bail knew it was all too possible.
He could not allow that to happen. He could not allow Obi-Wan to be consumed by his own guilt. Bail had told Obi-Wan that he couldn't rearrange his schedule for him, but now he knew he must. Obi-Wan's crisis of faith must be his priority. In all honesty he could call it a crisis of galactic significance. His mind made up, Bail slipped quietly out of bed so as not to disturb his sleeping lover. He had arrangements to make.
*****
Several hours later, Obi-Wan's still had not woken up on his own. He had always been an early riser like Bail, and Bail had never known the Jedi to sleep in so late -- much later than yesterday. It disturbed him to realize how deeply Obi-Wan's spiritual and physical exhaustion must run. He sat carefully on the side of the bed, gently brushing his fingers through Obi- Wan's hair, but still the Jedi did not wake up. Still stroking Obi-Wan's hair, Bail called, "Ben."
The name got him, as always. Obi-Wan's eyelids fluttered open, and his gaze took in Bail, then the late morning sun at the window, instantly alert. At least that had not changed. "What are you still doing here?" he asked.
"Waiting for you to wake up so that you, Leia and I can get going to Shadowcliff. At this rate we won't get there until after lunch."
Bail had a feeling this news would fail to please Obi-Wan, and he was not disappointed. "Shadowcliff?" Obi-Wan protested, sitting up. "We can't! You and Leia-- it will look suspicious."
"It is out of the ordinary, but I have been known to disappear abruptly, so it won't attract any particular notice."
Not surprisingly, Obi-Wan failed to be convinced, "But --"
"Hush," Bail chided, laying a finger to Obi-Wan's lips. "You don't have a choice. You need it, so we're going." He quirked a reproachful eyebrow. "Don't make me call in my guards to tie you up."
Bail stood up. "You're all packed already, and I even laid some clothes out for you, so hurry up and get dressed. It's late, so you'll have to forego breakfast, but I know how much you hate eating, so you won't miss it much."
Reluctantly Obi-Wan got out of bed. He dressed swiftly, and within a quarter of an hour they were packed up and loaded into the skyhopper, Leia bouncing on the back seat in her excitement to get to the Organa family's mountain retreat.
"Have you ever been to Shadowcliff?" she asked Obi-Wan eagerly.
"Yes, I have," he answered as Bail started the 'hopper and they took off. "But it's been a very long time."
Disappointed, Leia's brow furrowed in thought. "Since before I was born?" she asked.
"Long before you were born," he assured her. In truth he couldn't remember how long it had been.
This cheered Leia up, since she had made a number of significant improvements to Shadowcliff in her life in the form of piled rocks, pressed flowers, and collected beetle shells, interesting twigs, and other natural treasures. If Uncle Ben hadn't been to Shadowcliff in her lifetime, then it was just as if he'd never been there at all.
As they flew out of the city, Obi-Wan continue to fret. "Are you sure it's --," he stopped himself from saying "safe." He didn't want to alarm Leia.
Bail knew exactly what he meant. "Yes, it's perfectly safe. I've notified the caretakers, who are provisioning the house even as we speak, so we won't need to go to town for supplies, and no one will know you're there. And we hardly need bodyguards when we have a Jedi as our guest."
Leia sat forward so she could lean over the front seat. "Can we go fishing?"
"Yes, we *may*," Bail replied, answering her and correcting her grammar at the same time. He glanced proudly at Obi-Wan. "Leia is quite an accomplished angler."
"Do you know how to fish?" Leia asked her uncle.
"Yes," he hesitated. Not that he had much chance to on Tatooine. He probably hadn't fished since the last time he had been to Shadowcliff.
Leia picked up on his thoughts. "But not since I was born, right?"
"Right."
That would have to do. It irked Leia that her uncle already seemed to know everything. She wanted to show him *something* new. "Can you play the flute? I mean, *may* you play the flute?" she corrected herself.
Obi-Wan smiled as Bail stifled his laughter. "No, I *can't*."
Well, that was something, at least. She was glad she had brought her flute with her. Appeased, she turned to her father, "Can I -- may I -- can I drive now, Bobo?"
Bail laughed. "You *can* drive, but you *may* not."
"Awww...."
Obi-Wan shot Bail a surprised look. "She knows how to drive?"
"Of course she does."
Obi-Wan's skepticism hardly diminished. "Isn't she a little young?"
Bail scoffed, "Excuse me, but aren't you the one who brought his nine-year- old apprentice to my house and told me to let him pilot my most prized speeder bike? 'Don't worry,' you said. 'He's a podracer!'"
The reference to Anakin hit Obi-Wan like a slap in the face, but he was determined to echo Bail's nonchalance, pointing out, "He didn't so much as scratch the paint, did he?"
"Well, if it's good enough for your Padawan, it's good enough for my daughter. She's been driving since she was eight." Sensing Leia's impending objection, Bail warned, "But you still may not drive today, Leelee. We want to get there as soon as possible."
Leia pouted, "You've never let me fly your speeder bike."
Bail cleared his throat, uncomfortable. Proud as he was of his daughter's accomplishments, he nevertheless could still be the protective father. "When you are twelve," he said flatly, picking an arbitrary age that was far enough in the future not to leave room for any begging. "Talented you may be, but you're not a podracer, Leelee."
"What is a podracer?" Leia asked. Surely if some nine-year-old could do it, she could, too.
Glaring at Obi-Wan, Bail deferred, "I'll let you field that one, Uncle Ben, and don't forget all the gory bits."
Thus put on the spot, Obi-Wan obliged, dredging his memory for stories and statistics that Anakin used to plague him with, striving to relay them with some of his Padawan's old enthusiasm. Surprisingly it was nice to talk about Anakin, albeit in a round-about way. Then again, that was probably the only way Obi-Wan could talk about him. The subject had been so painful for so long, Obi-Wan was pleased that memories of the boy he once loved had not been completely subsumed by the man he had become.
The conversation about podracing somehow came around to thrantas, and from there followed a meandering path through a number of different subjects. The trip passed pleasantly, and before they realized it they were in the mountains, winding through passes and finally arriving at Shadowcliff in the early afternoon. The house was wedged high up in the mountains, a good thirty kilometers from the nearest town, and surrounded by plenty of wilderness to be explored. A small but lively stream cascaded down the mountain, passing next to the house. The air was clean and sharp and smelled of pine.
Leia leaped out of the 'hopper as soon as it stopped and ran to the stream to pay it ritual homage. Her duty accomplished, she raced back to Obi-Wan and grabbed his hand, pulling him up the pathway to the house, happily pointing out the sights along the way, a particular tree she had climbed, a rock she had found, a burrow in which a ground squirrel had once lived. Once in the house, she dragged him from room to room, giving the grand tour, including a detailed history of all her many adventures at Shadowcliff over the last decade.
Obi-Wan was reassured to discover that the house had changed little since he had last been there. The scores of family pictures that lined the walls had been updated, the odd piece of furniture or rug replaced, the array of books, games, and knick-knacks had been added to, but in essentials it was the same, and Obi-Wan had to struggle to hold back a sudden flow of tears. Finally here was one place he knew from the old days that had not changed. The sounds and sights and scents were all familiar. He could almost imagine he had traveled back to a time when he had been happy, when there was a Republic, when the Temple still stood on Coruscant, and Anakin was still a bright-eyed child. And even farther back, when Obi-Wan was still a Padawan himself, the first time he had visited Shadowcliff while on a brief vacation to Alderaan, when he and Bail had been lovers for only a year. He could imagine that when he left Shadowcliff he would return to Qui-Gon at the Temple on Coruscant, waiting for him with their next assignment.
He knew it wasn't true. None of those people or places existed anymore, at least not as he had known them. But for now he wanted to pretend.
They had a late lunch, then went for a walk along the stream, Leia keeping a sharp watch for the best places to dig up worms for fishing. As evening fell, the air grew chilly, and they returned to the house to build a fire in the fireplace. They spent the evening much as they had the previous one, playing games and enjoying one another's company. The excitement of arriving at Shadowcliff, not to mention the fresh mountain air and high altitude, proved to be too much for Leia, who drowsed off to sleep long before her usual appointed bedtime. Bail gathered her gently into his arms and carried her off to her bedroom.
When he returned from tucking her into bed, Bail found Obi-Wan standing in the darkened living room, staring out into the night sky, a shadow against the stars. The sight chilled him, and he pressed up behind Obi-Wan, his arms sliding tightly across the Jedi's chest as if he would keep him from flying away into the night. Obi-Wan said nothing, passively accepting the embrace, and again Bail was struck by how much Obi-Wan had changed. He sighed, pressing his forehead to the back of Obi-Wan's head. "It is as if you're not even here."
Obi-Wan recognized Bail's grief, but he literally had nothing left to offer, not even himself. "I assure you, insofar as I am anywhere, I am here."
But his words only made Bail hold on tighter. "All day long I've watched you with Leia, talking to her, playing with her, laughing. To all appearances you're fully present, yet there is no light in your eyes. You are a ghost."
What could Obi-Wan say? It was true. "But you are not a ghost." He leaned his head back against Bail's shoulder, sinking into his embrace. "You are flesh and blood. You are warm, you breathe, you have a pulse."
Bail raised a hand to stroke Obi-Wan's hair. "Then let me love you tonight. Let me warm you."
Bail's tenderness only roused a fresh wave of despair in Obi-Wan. He didn't even know what it was he was afraid of, and he was too tired to care anymore. "I can't," he breathed. "I just can't. I'm sorry."
He could feel Bail trembling against him, struggling to hold back his emotion. He bowed his face into Obi-Wan's neck, and when he spoke, his lips brushed against Obi-Wan's skin, his voice shaking with quiet rage. "You believe you don't deserve it." He almost hated Obi-Wan in that moment, almost wished he had never come at all. He needed Obi-Wan so desperately. They had so little time, and yet Obi-Wan kept closing himself off. Even now, holding the Jedi, Bail could barely even feel him. "How long are you going to punish yourself?"
"I'm well beyond punishing myself," Obi-Wan answered quietly. Bail's arms tightened further around him, and Obi-Wan felt tears against his neck.
"You selfish bastard," Bail quietly accused, his voice taut with anguish. "Why did you come here at all?"
Obi-Wan wished desperately he could make it better, but he knew he couldn't. "I came because I could no longer stay away. I *am* selfish."
Bail wept openly now, and all Obi-Wan could do was let him. All he could do was stand there and be washed by his lover's tears. Such a waste of water. Obi-Wan had given up the practice long ago, had learned how to cry tears of pure salt, crystals that hardened on his cheeks, curing his skin like leather, toughening him. Obi-Wan had learned well how to do without -- without water, without greenery, without joy, without companionship, without purpose. He had learned how to survive. Well, not learned exactly. Rather he found that even when the worst had been done, even when you have lost everything, you still endure, whether you want to or not.
"Where I live," he offered, "I don't have much to do except think. Sometimes I look back on my life and ask what I have to show for it. My master murdered, my padawan fallen, the Jedi dead, and a galaxy in chaos. I can't say I've accomplished much of value. I have gained no wisdom or insight. But I'm still alive.
"They say where there is life there is hope. I've come to believe hope is just another word for breathing. But perhaps that's something after all. So the task will fall to me to teach these children not because I am wiser or stronger or better than anyone else. Force knows, I'm not. But it will fall to me because, quite simply, I'm the only one left." He sighed, looking out at the stars. "I find some comfort in the knowledge that even I am better than nothing."
Bail had ceased crying and listened. For a long time he remained silent, contemplating what Obi-Wan had said. At last he answered, "That's it, then? The collected wisdom of a lifetime: we go on because our hearts keep beating, and there is no justice."
"No, there is no justice," Obi-Wan gently replied. "But we still have to choose sides."
Another long silence. Force, Bail sighed, he had lived his entire life in service to others, they both had, and what the hell had it gained them? Everything they had once believed in was gone. They had sacrificed their own wants and needs for a greater purpose that no longer existed. What did they owe the universe any more? But it was too late for them, too late for anything but a private change of heart. "Then I choose your side."
Something twitched inside Obi-Wan, something stirred and fought to open its eyes. He didn't want it to, would prefer for it to remain in hibernation. It would hurt too much to have it live again, and yet he had come here, hadn't he? He loved Bail, didn't he? Didn't deserve him, no, hadn't earned this. He knew it couldn't be, couldn't last. It would wake only to die again, but for just one moment couldn't Bail love him? Couldn't he just hold him? Surely Obi-Wan could allow himself that one, small comfort.
His breath hitched in his chest, and Bail could feel the struggle within him. "Tell me what you want, Ben," he begged. "Kiss you, fuck you, leave you alone. Whenever you ask, I'll do it."
Obi-Wan turned in Bail's arms, leaning into him. "Just tell me that story again, the one where we live happily ever after."
"Ah. Fairy tales," Bail answered, with a trace of bitterness. "I'm good at that. Come on, then." He took Obi-Wan's hand and led him into the shadows of their bedroom. "Now, how does it start? Ah, yes, I remember." His voice drifted into the sing-song of storytelling. "In a time that always was, and never will be, you and I will move to Ithor, to live in the sacred forest. I will take up law, and you will teach martial arts."
"No," Obi-Wan corrected as they settled onto the bed. "I want to garden."
"Garden?" Bail repeated, as he cradled Obi-Wan in his arms, the way he held his daughter, rocking him. "That's new. All right, we'll live on a small farm, and you will grow flowers and vegetables and whatever else tickles your fancy."
"And Leia can raised thrantas."
"Now you're on her side? Very well. If we're living on a farm, I suppose we might as well build a pen for thrantas." He paused, considering. "If neither of you are going to do any honest work, then I won't either. Instead, I believe I'll write. Bad novels, and even worse poetry. We'll live in a two-story house, and we'll brew our own beer, and go on picnics every day, and -- does Ithor have a sea?"
"It has several, in fact."
"Then we'll live on a lake, with a river that flows to the sea, and every summer we'll sail around the world." He stared down into Obi-Wan's eyes, brushing the hair off his forehead. "And the best of it is that no one will ever bother us, and we will bother no one, until the end of our days. And we will live happily ever after."
Obi-Wan gazed up at Bail, and the Prince at last could see a faint spark in his eyes. "Promise me we'll do it," Obi-Wan begged.
It grieved Bail to make a promise he would never keep, but if all he could do was lie to please Obi-Wan, then it was a small sacrifice to make. "I promise," he assured his love. "I swear it, by all I hold dear."
/I swear it,/ he thought, /by you./