Day Five
One day remained.
The magic grace of the previous night paled with the dawn. They woke together, wrapped in each other's arms, and they revelled in the luxury of being able to make love in the morning, but the pure joy of yesterday was tainted with the bittersweet tang of tomorrow. Eternity, it turned out, had a deadline.
But that deadline had not yet arrived.
Leia demonstrated remarkable restraint, allowing her two fathers to emerge at their own pace. When they finally did surface, they found the kitchen a mess, their breakfast grown cold, and an impatient Leia outside fishing again.
More dawdling over breakfast, feeding each other between kisses. Who could have imagined that dining could become a contact sport? They behaved more like infatuated teenagers than responsible, mature adults. But then they had both been responsible and mature in their younger years. Maybe now was the time for them to be infatuated.
By the time they finished breakfast, it was almost time for lunch. Leia came in with more fish, which they wasted no time in frying up and devouring. Afterwards they went out for a hike into the wilderness behind the cabin, swapping stories about the adventures each of them had had on Shadowcliff's mountain: unexpected afternoon thunderstorms, encounters with animals, discoveries of new plants. Of course, a child would tell the best stories. Leia described in breathless detail her expeditions of discovery and adventure, wrestling with hostile tree lions, surviving blizzards and avalanches, encountering entire previously unknown civilizations of wood sprites and miniature thrantas (Obi-Wan knew they were going to turn up at some point), and finally describing a classic childhood battle of Jedi versus Sith.
"Right here!" Leia indicated, clambering up onto a boulder. "I was surrounded by a hundred Sith Lords! They were gonna assassinate Papa and take over Alderaan, but I found 'em first. I lit up my lightsaber and ran at 'em!" She jumped back to the ground, snatched up a long stick and proceeded to attack a nearby tree, smacking the trunk with a satisfying *thwack.* "And I chopped his head off, and then this one came at me, and I chopped off his arms!" she shouted, hacking the dry, dead limbs off another tree. "And I stabbed another one in his tummy, and he went, 'Aaaargh!'" Clutching her stomach, she staggered around dramatically, tongue lolling out of her mouth.
As she continued with her epic battle, Bail watched in amusement, but Obi- Wan found it disturbing. After all, he had actually fought with two Sith Lords. He knew children liked to play these games, but it was too much like his own experience for him to find anything entertaining about it. Then, of course, there was the fact that one of the Sith Lords he had fought was Leia's own father. There was something sinister about watching this child's Jedi battle, like a dark premonition. It unnerved him so completely that he spoke without thought. "Actually, when you stab a Sith Lord in the tummy, he does not go, 'Aaaargh.'"
Leia halted in her recital, and Bail looked warily up at him. Eagerly, Leia asked, "Did you ever fight a Sith Lord?"
Obi-Wan froze, unable to answer, and Bail quietly admonished, "Leia."
Normally that particular tone was enough to stop her in her tracks, but she was too caught up in her own story, too intrigued to learn that someone she knew might have actually lived it. She had only ever heard of one Sith Lord. "Did you fight with Lord Va--?"
"Leia!" Bail snapped, and she recoiled at his harsh tone, staring up at her father on the verge of tears, uncertain about what she had done wrong. More gently, Bail explained, "That is not an acceptable topic of conversation." He held his hand out to her, and Leia nodded wordlessly, rushing to his side and wrapping her arms reassuringly around his waist as she looked up at Obi-Wan.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, tears still threatening.
Struggling to control the wild pounding of his heart, Obi-Wan said, "It's all right."
His forgiveness made her feel somewhat better, but she was still curious. All of this was too intriguing. Later, much later, she was going to ask her father about it.
For now, however, the subject was closed. "There's a meadow not too far from here," Bail suggested, "and it's just about the right time of year for ivy berries. Shall we see if we can find some?"
There was nothing like a new idea to distract a child, and Leia happily cheered, running on ahead toward the meadow.
Taking Obi-Wan's arm in his, Bail offered, "I'm sorry."
"There's no need to apologize. She obviously did not know, and naturally she would be curious. Besides," he managed a smile that wasn't too shaky, "I seem to recall your mother once showing me a dent in a table leg that had been inflicted during one of your own Jedi battles."
Bail laughed. "Yes. There's more than one table in my own house bearing similar injuries."
"Were they inflicted by you or Leia?" Obi-Wan teased, and Bail wagged his finger in rebuke.
It was enough. The darkness of the moment had been banished, and they could enjoy themselves once more. They arrived at the meadow and found Leia had already discovered the berries, so ripe they burst in her fingers, staining them purple. The three of them scrounged through the ivy, savoring their finds until all of them bore purple stains on their hands and mouths -- and to Leia's delight, even Obi-Wan's beard.
When they had eaten their fill, the three of them lay together in the grass in a huddle, Obi-Wan's head on Bail stomach, Leia's head on Obi-Wan's. They laughed and giggled, causing their heads to bobble and bounce, which in turn evoked more laughter. Eventually they calmed down, staring up at the clouds blowing slowly across the sky.
Leia rolled over on her side, snuggling up to Obi-Wan, and said, "Tell me a story. I'm sure you know a lot of stories."
"All right," Obi-Wan agreed. "But this is not a story about a Jedi." Leia's face fell slightly, but before she could protest, Obi-Wan continued, "It is about a young girl, not much older than you, who became the leader of her people. Not long after she began her rule, invaders came and threatened to take over her world. They took the people from their homes and put them in camps, and it seemed there was nothing they could do. No one would help them. Everyone told her she would have to surrender to the invaders, but she was determined not to give up. She met with her people's age-old enemies and convinced them to join forces for the first time in their history to fight the invaders. She conceived of a plan to capture the leaders, and she led her people to victory. They kicked the invaders off their world, and the two peoples were free to live in peace together as friends."
Leia listened with rapt attention, and Bail, who knew the story well, felt a flare of old grief for its heroine. Obi-Wan stroked Leia's hair. "She was a courageous, wise, and noble leader. She was not a Jedi, but she had the heart of one." He paused, his thumb brushing Leia's forehead as for a moment he sank into the memory of dear friends long gone. "You remind me of her," he whispered.
Leia smiled, and in a flash of insight Bail remembered another smile, one that appeared so rarely on the somber face of the young Queen and later Senator of Naboo. An identical smile, in a face that was suddenly, achingly familiar. He stared at Leia with newly opened eyes. How had he not seen it before? His child was Padme's daughter, Padme and ....
Pure, blind panic seized him as all the pieces clicked inexorably together, and he sat up, disturbing their comfortable little huddle. Obi-Wan rose and looked at him with eyes that begged once more for understanding, and all Bail could do was stare back. All he could think of was the danger to his child if Vader knew what Bail had taken from him. Force, what had Obi- Wan done, exposing Leia to such peril?
And just as abruptly it dawned on Bail: Vader did not know. Did not know Leia was his daughter, did not know he had a child at all. The Dark Lord hated Bail enough that he avoided him. Indeed, they had only met that one time. He did not know, had no reason to suspect, because what could be more absurd than hiding Vader's child in plain sight?
But Leia was not Vader's child, not really. She was Bail's. Oh, the unbearable irony of it all, that Anakin should have his daughter raised by the man he hated so much. What in all the hells had Obi-Wan been thinking?
Yet there was something beautiful about it, too, something redemptive, because when he had been very young, Anakin had thrived among the Organas. Bail's own mother had become a surrogate to Anakin, and Bail and the boy like brothers, constantly tormenting Obi-Wan with their mischief. Anakin had loved Bail once, and Bail had missed it when it was gone, had hoped that perhaps it had never completely gone at all, but been buried beneath those hardened layers of bitterness and resentment that had grown up around Anakin's heart. For Bail to be raising Anakin's daughter was, in a strange way, a chance for him to reconnect to the boy he had once been so fond of. It was also a way for him to repay Padme for years of friendship.
And Obi-Wan -- Obi-Wan had given Bail the daughter he always wanted. How strange that so many people, so many destinies, were bound together in the small child staring up at him with wide, concerned eyes.
"Papa?" Leia asked, worried about his ongoing silence.
Bail's thoughts raced about in his skull. He had to make a quick save so Leia would not know the truth. Perhaps he could take his cue from Obi-Wan by hiding that truth in plain sight. "I knew her as well," he offered. "I admired her greatly. She was a good friend." He paused, then said as nonchalantly as possible, "And you are very much like her."
Leia smiled, taking it as Bail had hoped, as a compliment and not a revelation. She was, however, smart enough to figure one thing out. "She's dead, isn't she?"
Bail nodded sadly. "Yes."
Rats. How come all the cool people were dead? Her father was always telling her about all these amazing people, and they always turned out to be dead. Well, at least General Kenobi had turned out to be alive. Leia wondered if she was ever going to know any cool people. Though come to think of it, Senator Mon Mothma wasn't too bad....
Leia sighed and snuggled up against Obi-Wan's chest. "I'm glad you're alive, Uncle Ben," she confided.
"So am I," Obi-Wan smiled.
Bail looked at him with an unspoken question, /Are you really?/
As if he had heard him, Obi-Wan returned his gaze with a placid, /Yes./
"Me, too," was all Bail said.
*****
After dinner, it was time for them to leave. They loaded into the skyhopper and returned home. At some point during the trip, Leia fell asleep, and when they finally arrived, Bail and Obi-Wan were tired as well. They put Leia to bed and then headed to Bail's room.
Bail was trying very hard not to count each second as it slipped away. Obi- Wan was still here. He did not want to focus on the time when he would not be, but it was hard. He stood forlornly in the center of his bedroom, arms wrapped around himself to stave off the impending loneliness. Then a pair of arms slipped around him from behind, and he was being held tightly.
"Will you still be here in the morning?" he asked softly.
He felt the rasp of Obi-Wan's beard against his neck, then a gentle kiss. "No."
He squeezed his eyes shut, leaning back against Obi-Wan. "Good." He had to whisper, as his voice had left him. "Goodnight is easier than goodbye."
Obi-Wan passed his hand over Bail's hair, his fingers tangling into the curls as he cradled Bail with his other arm, rocking him slightly. He nuzzled against Bail's cheek, showering him with delicate kisses, the way Bail had first kissed him on the night of his arrival on Alderaan. When he turned Bail's face to kiss his eyelids, the Prince's lashes were damp with tears. He wanted to tell Bail not to cry, not to color their last hours with grief, but he could not ask it of him. He would accept all of Bail, and the sadness was a part of him, a part of their love. So it had always been, and he blessed those tears with his kisses.
Bail turned in Obi-Wan's arms until they were face to face, his mouth seeking Obi-Wan's, arms twining around his neck. No urgency, no wild abandon, just a simple embrace that said, *I belong here.*
They stood kissing for a long time, making no move to go any farther. Silence. Tasting, caressing, enjoying. No hurry, no rush. This was not foreplay, this was love itself, to stand in the arms of your lover and kiss his lips, to feel his cheek brush yours, to have your breath mingle with his, to feel his heart beat steadily against your own. So often a kiss meant anticipation, a promise of something more, of delights yet to come. Yet this kiss was familiar, lingering, offering not anticipation but comfort and contentment, presence. Total, pure presence. Everything else ceased to be: the Empire, the galaxy, sight and sound, thought, hope, despair. Nothing existed except this kiss.
When Bail at last returned to awareness, they were standing with arms wrapped around each other, foreheads touching.
"Bail," Obi-Wan whispered, and the Prince felt his own name as a breath of warm air against his lips. "If you want, I'll tell you now where I am living, but...." Obi-Wan pulled back just far enough that he could look into Bail's eyes. "Understand that you cannot contact me until it is time."
He understood why Obi-Wan was giving him the choice. What torture it would be to know where Obi-Wan was and be unable to call or visit him, unable to send him any message. Obi-Wan had asked many things of him these past few days, entrusted him with more than one secret that could get Bail killed. He did not mind the risk. After all, he had plenty of secrets of his own that could get him killed just as easily. That part was not hard. But to know that Obi-Wan was within his grasp, yet to voluntarily remain away... this was the hardest thing anyone had ever asked of him. Yet he knew that he would do it.
"Tell me," he said.
Obi-Wan again touched his forehead to Bail's and sighed. "I live on Tatooine, a place called the Jundland Wastes."
Tatooine. This revelation should have surprised Bail, but it did not. The circle was now complete. Obi-Wan had returned to the place where Anakin's story had begun. But their story did not began there. Their story had begun on Alderaan almost thirty years ago, and Bail knew, somehow knew that one day it would end here as well. That knowledge gave him comfort, and he knew he would be able to wait. He would wait for Obi-Wan here on Alderaan until the day at last arrived to send for him, and then he would come, and they would be together.
And from that day, whenever it came, they were going to live happily ever after.
Until then, for these next few hours, they were going to live happily in the now. A slow smile spread across Bail's face, and he gazed up archly into his lover's beautiful blue-gray eyes.
"Wanna fuck?"
Day 6
When Bail woke up, he was alone.
For several minutes he lay there, staring at the empty space next to him, pretending that Obi-Wan was just in the bathroom and would come out any minute, or that he had gone on down to the kitchen and even now was pouring out two glasses of juice, one for himself and one for Bail. But it was no use. He knew better.
He ran one hand over the sheets next to him, still bearing the imprint of Obi-Wan's body, but the sheets were cold. He was long gone, once more a memory. Bail closed his eyes. He knew exactly how Obi-Wan's body fit against his, could trace in the empty air each scar and blemish on that skin, knew precisely how that hair smelled in the morning, could hear again the texture of that voice echoing in his ear. Obi-Wan was with him every minute of every day, as he had been for the past ten years. Obi-Wan was burned onto his soul, even more indelibly than the tattoo on his wrist, and Bail knew he could never lose him, even if he wanted to.
But it wasn't the same as having him in the flesh.
Bail forced himself to breathe, making himself release that old, familiar pain. Nothing he could do about it, nothing he could change. Just be grateful that a man named Obi-Wan Kenobi had ever once entered his life.
He sat up, steeling himself to face another day of loneliness, and that was when he noticed the object on the pillow next to him: a small black rock, shot through with veins of crimson fire. Obi-Wan's river stone, the one Qui-Gon had given him on his thirteenth birthday, of all objects his most prized possession, even above his lightsaber.
And it had been cut neatly, precisely in half.
Beneath the stone lay a note. "I will come back for it."
Bail picked up the stone. It fit perfectly into the hollow of his palm. He would never let go of it until it was returned at last to its mate.
"May you come soon, my love," he whispered to the empty air.
One day remained.
The magic grace of the previous night paled with the dawn. They woke together, wrapped in each other's arms, and they revelled in the luxury of being able to make love in the morning, but the pure joy of yesterday was tainted with the bittersweet tang of tomorrow. Eternity, it turned out, had a deadline.
But that deadline had not yet arrived.
Leia demonstrated remarkable restraint, allowing her two fathers to emerge at their own pace. When they finally did surface, they found the kitchen a mess, their breakfast grown cold, and an impatient Leia outside fishing again.
More dawdling over breakfast, feeding each other between kisses. Who could have imagined that dining could become a contact sport? They behaved more like infatuated teenagers than responsible, mature adults. But then they had both been responsible and mature in their younger years. Maybe now was the time for them to be infatuated.
By the time they finished breakfast, it was almost time for lunch. Leia came in with more fish, which they wasted no time in frying up and devouring. Afterwards they went out for a hike into the wilderness behind the cabin, swapping stories about the adventures each of them had had on Shadowcliff's mountain: unexpected afternoon thunderstorms, encounters with animals, discoveries of new plants. Of course, a child would tell the best stories. Leia described in breathless detail her expeditions of discovery and adventure, wrestling with hostile tree lions, surviving blizzards and avalanches, encountering entire previously unknown civilizations of wood sprites and miniature thrantas (Obi-Wan knew they were going to turn up at some point), and finally describing a classic childhood battle of Jedi versus Sith.
"Right here!" Leia indicated, clambering up onto a boulder. "I was surrounded by a hundred Sith Lords! They were gonna assassinate Papa and take over Alderaan, but I found 'em first. I lit up my lightsaber and ran at 'em!" She jumped back to the ground, snatched up a long stick and proceeded to attack a nearby tree, smacking the trunk with a satisfying *thwack.* "And I chopped his head off, and then this one came at me, and I chopped off his arms!" she shouted, hacking the dry, dead limbs off another tree. "And I stabbed another one in his tummy, and he went, 'Aaaargh!'" Clutching her stomach, she staggered around dramatically, tongue lolling out of her mouth.
As she continued with her epic battle, Bail watched in amusement, but Obi- Wan found it disturbing. After all, he had actually fought with two Sith Lords. He knew children liked to play these games, but it was too much like his own experience for him to find anything entertaining about it. Then, of course, there was the fact that one of the Sith Lords he had fought was Leia's own father. There was something sinister about watching this child's Jedi battle, like a dark premonition. It unnerved him so completely that he spoke without thought. "Actually, when you stab a Sith Lord in the tummy, he does not go, 'Aaaargh.'"
Leia halted in her recital, and Bail looked warily up at him. Eagerly, Leia asked, "Did you ever fight a Sith Lord?"
Obi-Wan froze, unable to answer, and Bail quietly admonished, "Leia."
Normally that particular tone was enough to stop her in her tracks, but she was too caught up in her own story, too intrigued to learn that someone she knew might have actually lived it. She had only ever heard of one Sith Lord. "Did you fight with Lord Va--?"
"Leia!" Bail snapped, and she recoiled at his harsh tone, staring up at her father on the verge of tears, uncertain about what she had done wrong. More gently, Bail explained, "That is not an acceptable topic of conversation." He held his hand out to her, and Leia nodded wordlessly, rushing to his side and wrapping her arms reassuringly around his waist as she looked up at Obi-Wan.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, tears still threatening.
Struggling to control the wild pounding of his heart, Obi-Wan said, "It's all right."
His forgiveness made her feel somewhat better, but she was still curious. All of this was too intriguing. Later, much later, she was going to ask her father about it.
For now, however, the subject was closed. "There's a meadow not too far from here," Bail suggested, "and it's just about the right time of year for ivy berries. Shall we see if we can find some?"
There was nothing like a new idea to distract a child, and Leia happily cheered, running on ahead toward the meadow.
Taking Obi-Wan's arm in his, Bail offered, "I'm sorry."
"There's no need to apologize. She obviously did not know, and naturally she would be curious. Besides," he managed a smile that wasn't too shaky, "I seem to recall your mother once showing me a dent in a table leg that had been inflicted during one of your own Jedi battles."
Bail laughed. "Yes. There's more than one table in my own house bearing similar injuries."
"Were they inflicted by you or Leia?" Obi-Wan teased, and Bail wagged his finger in rebuke.
It was enough. The darkness of the moment had been banished, and they could enjoy themselves once more. They arrived at the meadow and found Leia had already discovered the berries, so ripe they burst in her fingers, staining them purple. The three of them scrounged through the ivy, savoring their finds until all of them bore purple stains on their hands and mouths -- and to Leia's delight, even Obi-Wan's beard.
When they had eaten their fill, the three of them lay together in the grass in a huddle, Obi-Wan's head on Bail stomach, Leia's head on Obi-Wan's. They laughed and giggled, causing their heads to bobble and bounce, which in turn evoked more laughter. Eventually they calmed down, staring up at the clouds blowing slowly across the sky.
Leia rolled over on her side, snuggling up to Obi-Wan, and said, "Tell me a story. I'm sure you know a lot of stories."
"All right," Obi-Wan agreed. "But this is not a story about a Jedi." Leia's face fell slightly, but before she could protest, Obi-Wan continued, "It is about a young girl, not much older than you, who became the leader of her people. Not long after she began her rule, invaders came and threatened to take over her world. They took the people from their homes and put them in camps, and it seemed there was nothing they could do. No one would help them. Everyone told her she would have to surrender to the invaders, but she was determined not to give up. She met with her people's age-old enemies and convinced them to join forces for the first time in their history to fight the invaders. She conceived of a plan to capture the leaders, and she led her people to victory. They kicked the invaders off their world, and the two peoples were free to live in peace together as friends."
Leia listened with rapt attention, and Bail, who knew the story well, felt a flare of old grief for its heroine. Obi-Wan stroked Leia's hair. "She was a courageous, wise, and noble leader. She was not a Jedi, but she had the heart of one." He paused, his thumb brushing Leia's forehead as for a moment he sank into the memory of dear friends long gone. "You remind me of her," he whispered.
Leia smiled, and in a flash of insight Bail remembered another smile, one that appeared so rarely on the somber face of the young Queen and later Senator of Naboo. An identical smile, in a face that was suddenly, achingly familiar. He stared at Leia with newly opened eyes. How had he not seen it before? His child was Padme's daughter, Padme and ....
Pure, blind panic seized him as all the pieces clicked inexorably together, and he sat up, disturbing their comfortable little huddle. Obi-Wan rose and looked at him with eyes that begged once more for understanding, and all Bail could do was stare back. All he could think of was the danger to his child if Vader knew what Bail had taken from him. Force, what had Obi- Wan done, exposing Leia to such peril?
And just as abruptly it dawned on Bail: Vader did not know. Did not know Leia was his daughter, did not know he had a child at all. The Dark Lord hated Bail enough that he avoided him. Indeed, they had only met that one time. He did not know, had no reason to suspect, because what could be more absurd than hiding Vader's child in plain sight?
But Leia was not Vader's child, not really. She was Bail's. Oh, the unbearable irony of it all, that Anakin should have his daughter raised by the man he hated so much. What in all the hells had Obi-Wan been thinking?
Yet there was something beautiful about it, too, something redemptive, because when he had been very young, Anakin had thrived among the Organas. Bail's own mother had become a surrogate to Anakin, and Bail and the boy like brothers, constantly tormenting Obi-Wan with their mischief. Anakin had loved Bail once, and Bail had missed it when it was gone, had hoped that perhaps it had never completely gone at all, but been buried beneath those hardened layers of bitterness and resentment that had grown up around Anakin's heart. For Bail to be raising Anakin's daughter was, in a strange way, a chance for him to reconnect to the boy he had once been so fond of. It was also a way for him to repay Padme for years of friendship.
And Obi-Wan -- Obi-Wan had given Bail the daughter he always wanted. How strange that so many people, so many destinies, were bound together in the small child staring up at him with wide, concerned eyes.
"Papa?" Leia asked, worried about his ongoing silence.
Bail's thoughts raced about in his skull. He had to make a quick save so Leia would not know the truth. Perhaps he could take his cue from Obi-Wan by hiding that truth in plain sight. "I knew her as well," he offered. "I admired her greatly. She was a good friend." He paused, then said as nonchalantly as possible, "And you are very much like her."
Leia smiled, taking it as Bail had hoped, as a compliment and not a revelation. She was, however, smart enough to figure one thing out. "She's dead, isn't she?"
Bail nodded sadly. "Yes."
Rats. How come all the cool people were dead? Her father was always telling her about all these amazing people, and they always turned out to be dead. Well, at least General Kenobi had turned out to be alive. Leia wondered if she was ever going to know any cool people. Though come to think of it, Senator Mon Mothma wasn't too bad....
Leia sighed and snuggled up against Obi-Wan's chest. "I'm glad you're alive, Uncle Ben," she confided.
"So am I," Obi-Wan smiled.
Bail looked at him with an unspoken question, /Are you really?/
As if he had heard him, Obi-Wan returned his gaze with a placid, /Yes./
"Me, too," was all Bail said.
*****
After dinner, it was time for them to leave. They loaded into the skyhopper and returned home. At some point during the trip, Leia fell asleep, and when they finally arrived, Bail and Obi-Wan were tired as well. They put Leia to bed and then headed to Bail's room.
Bail was trying very hard not to count each second as it slipped away. Obi- Wan was still here. He did not want to focus on the time when he would not be, but it was hard. He stood forlornly in the center of his bedroom, arms wrapped around himself to stave off the impending loneliness. Then a pair of arms slipped around him from behind, and he was being held tightly.
"Will you still be here in the morning?" he asked softly.
He felt the rasp of Obi-Wan's beard against his neck, then a gentle kiss. "No."
He squeezed his eyes shut, leaning back against Obi-Wan. "Good." He had to whisper, as his voice had left him. "Goodnight is easier than goodbye."
Obi-Wan passed his hand over Bail's hair, his fingers tangling into the curls as he cradled Bail with his other arm, rocking him slightly. He nuzzled against Bail's cheek, showering him with delicate kisses, the way Bail had first kissed him on the night of his arrival on Alderaan. When he turned Bail's face to kiss his eyelids, the Prince's lashes were damp with tears. He wanted to tell Bail not to cry, not to color their last hours with grief, but he could not ask it of him. He would accept all of Bail, and the sadness was a part of him, a part of their love. So it had always been, and he blessed those tears with his kisses.
Bail turned in Obi-Wan's arms until they were face to face, his mouth seeking Obi-Wan's, arms twining around his neck. No urgency, no wild abandon, just a simple embrace that said, *I belong here.*
They stood kissing for a long time, making no move to go any farther. Silence. Tasting, caressing, enjoying. No hurry, no rush. This was not foreplay, this was love itself, to stand in the arms of your lover and kiss his lips, to feel his cheek brush yours, to have your breath mingle with his, to feel his heart beat steadily against your own. So often a kiss meant anticipation, a promise of something more, of delights yet to come. Yet this kiss was familiar, lingering, offering not anticipation but comfort and contentment, presence. Total, pure presence. Everything else ceased to be: the Empire, the galaxy, sight and sound, thought, hope, despair. Nothing existed except this kiss.
When Bail at last returned to awareness, they were standing with arms wrapped around each other, foreheads touching.
"Bail," Obi-Wan whispered, and the Prince felt his own name as a breath of warm air against his lips. "If you want, I'll tell you now where I am living, but...." Obi-Wan pulled back just far enough that he could look into Bail's eyes. "Understand that you cannot contact me until it is time."
He understood why Obi-Wan was giving him the choice. What torture it would be to know where Obi-Wan was and be unable to call or visit him, unable to send him any message. Obi-Wan had asked many things of him these past few days, entrusted him with more than one secret that could get Bail killed. He did not mind the risk. After all, he had plenty of secrets of his own that could get him killed just as easily. That part was not hard. But to know that Obi-Wan was within his grasp, yet to voluntarily remain away... this was the hardest thing anyone had ever asked of him. Yet he knew that he would do it.
"Tell me," he said.
Obi-Wan again touched his forehead to Bail's and sighed. "I live on Tatooine, a place called the Jundland Wastes."
Tatooine. This revelation should have surprised Bail, but it did not. The circle was now complete. Obi-Wan had returned to the place where Anakin's story had begun. But their story did not began there. Their story had begun on Alderaan almost thirty years ago, and Bail knew, somehow knew that one day it would end here as well. That knowledge gave him comfort, and he knew he would be able to wait. He would wait for Obi-Wan here on Alderaan until the day at last arrived to send for him, and then he would come, and they would be together.
And from that day, whenever it came, they were going to live happily ever after.
Until then, for these next few hours, they were going to live happily in the now. A slow smile spread across Bail's face, and he gazed up archly into his lover's beautiful blue-gray eyes.
"Wanna fuck?"
Day 6
When Bail woke up, he was alone.
For several minutes he lay there, staring at the empty space next to him, pretending that Obi-Wan was just in the bathroom and would come out any minute, or that he had gone on down to the kitchen and even now was pouring out two glasses of juice, one for himself and one for Bail. But it was no use. He knew better.
He ran one hand over the sheets next to him, still bearing the imprint of Obi-Wan's body, but the sheets were cold. He was long gone, once more a memory. Bail closed his eyes. He knew exactly how Obi-Wan's body fit against his, could trace in the empty air each scar and blemish on that skin, knew precisely how that hair smelled in the morning, could hear again the texture of that voice echoing in his ear. Obi-Wan was with him every minute of every day, as he had been for the past ten years. Obi-Wan was burned onto his soul, even more indelibly than the tattoo on his wrist, and Bail knew he could never lose him, even if he wanted to.
But it wasn't the same as having him in the flesh.
Bail forced himself to breathe, making himself release that old, familiar pain. Nothing he could do about it, nothing he could change. Just be grateful that a man named Obi-Wan Kenobi had ever once entered his life.
He sat up, steeling himself to face another day of loneliness, and that was when he noticed the object on the pillow next to him: a small black rock, shot through with veins of crimson fire. Obi-Wan's river stone, the one Qui-Gon had given him on his thirteenth birthday, of all objects his most prized possession, even above his lightsaber.
And it had been cut neatly, precisely in half.
Beneath the stone lay a note. "I will come back for it."
Bail picked up the stone. It fit perfectly into the hollow of his palm. He would never let go of it until it was returned at last to its mate.
"May you come soon, my love," he whispered to the empty air.