That night after Anakin had gone to bed, Obi-Wan joined Bail in the Prince's room. It had become their new ritual to spend the last hours of the evening together, reviewing Anakin's progress, discussing the current state of the Republic, while sitting by the fireplace, sipping on steaming mugs of choli, a spicy Alderaani drink. No sex, but Bail didn't expect it any more. He found it ironic that he had been replaced in Obi-Wan's bed by a nine-year-old. Ironic, but also kind of cute. He had made his peace with the change in their relationship, and he was just grateful they could still be friends.
Bail elected not to tell Obi-Wan about Anakin's request to borrow money to free his mother. The boy had come to him in confidence, and he saw no reason to violate that trust. But he was still curious about what Anakin had said about Qui-Gon. "You might want to review basic Jedi practices with Anakin," he suggested. "He seems to be confused about the whole Master-Apprentice thing."
Obi-Wan looked at him in concern. "What do you mean?"
"He thinks Qui-Gon was his master. I suppose it doesn't really matter, except that he has the idea that you were angry at him at one point because of it."
Obi-Wan froze, and he felt the same stab of shock and despair he'd felt in the Council chamber when Qui-Gon had made that awful announcement, the same sick feeling of betrayal.
When Obi-Wan's silence continued, Bail frowned in confusion. "I thought you were knighted after the duel? How could Qui-Gon have taken Anakin as his padawan before that?"
How? How indeed? "By renouncing his current one." The words caught in his chest, tearing at his throat. "He renounced me." His hands shook so hard he almost dropped his mug. He carefully set it down on a table, the drink spilling, but Bail seemed not to have noticed the mess. He was staring at Obi-Wan, aghast at what he had said.
Obi-Wan struggled to gather up his shattered thoughts. What had Qui-Gon said? No, that hadn't been right. "He didn't renounce me," he amended, his voice shaking with the strain of remaining under control. "He said I was ready for the trials."
Vaguely Obi-Wan was aware that Bail was shaking his head. "I don't understand," the Prince said, his voice sounding very far away. "Was this before or after that duel?"
"Be-fore," Obi-Wan said. He had to enunciate very carefully. His mouth didn't seem to be working properly. What was wrong with him? Why were his hands shaking? "It was the boy," he said, his words slow and deliberate, requiring concentration. "He wanted Anakin to be trained. But the Council refused, and Qui-Gon said he would train him. They…they had to remind him. About me. He had forgotten. About me. He said I was ready for the trials." But Qui-Gon hadn't really meant it, had he? It was just a convenient excuse, a way to cover for the fact that he had forgotten he already had a padawan.
He had forgotten about Obi-Wan.
"I can't believe it," Bail was saying.
"Believe it?" Obi-Wan echoed. "All he cared about was Anakin. The highest midichlorian count ever, the Chosen One," he spat, his anger propelling him to his feet. He paced back and forth before the fireplace, prowling, wanting to seize something and smash it, tear it apart. "He died! He died in my arms, and all he talked about was the boy! 'Train him,' he said. 'Train him; he's the chosen one.' But what about me? He never chose me! He never wanted me!"
"Obi-Wan," Bail started to contradict, but Obi-Wan turned haunted, burning eyes on him, and the words of comfort died in his throat.
"He rejected me," Obi-Wan said. "From the beginning. Said there was too much anger in me." And he had been right, hadn't he? A lifetime of anger erupted in Obi-Wan with the fury of a volcano. "He was my last chance. I was sent to the Agricorps. I had to threaten to blow myself up before he would take me as his padawan." Bail had never heard this story. Obi-Wan had never told him. "Over and over I had to prove myself to him. I was never good enough. He just took pity on me, waiting until a more promising student came along, and then he forgot about me. I was standing right next to him, and he didn't even know I was there!"
Hot, seething rage, with an intensity Obi-Wan had never known, boiled inside him, fighting for release. "I hate him!" he ground out. "I hate him! I'm glad he's dead!"
No! No, he hadn't just said that! He wanted desperately to call the words back, to deny them, but they had escaped to hang in the air like a curse. Oh, Force, what had he done? Had he caused his master's death? He clutched at his hair in agony, tears burning down his cheeks.
"I know you don't mean that," came Bail's voice again. It was so very far away.
Oh, but he did mean it, foul, vile creature that he was. "Why couldn't I be his chosen one?" he wept. "I loved him. I'd have given my life for him. I saw that Sith cut him down, and I wished it were me instead." If he had died, Qui-Gon could have trained his chosen one, and Obi-Wan could have escaped this awful shame, this soul-crushing betrayal.
"No, no," a gentle voice soothed, fingers covering his, coaxing loose his grip. "Qui-Gon would not have wanted that."
"It would have been better!"
"No," Bail said again, cradling Obi-Wan in his arms, aching to comfort him, to erase all this doubt and fear. How could Qui-Gon have done this to his apprentice? Bail knew probably better than anyone how much Obi-Wan had loved his master, how devoted he was. Bail wanted desperately to hate Qui-Gon, to defend Obi-Wan against this vicious man who had savaged his soul, but he knew he could not. Obi-Wan would be destroyed. Obi-Wan loved Qui-Gon too much. His faith in Qui-Gon needed to be restored, and with it, his faith in himself.
"Maybe you're looking at it the wrong way," Bail suggested.
Obi-Wan snarled, "What wrong way?"
"Qui-Gon could never have forgotten you. You were so much a part of him that…that he didn't even think of you as a separate person. You were more than his apprentice. You were his partner."
Obi-Wan pulled away, his expression disbelieving, but Bail could see a glimmer of desperate hope in his eyes. "How would you know?" Obi-Wan asked. "You barely knew him."
"I lived with you at the Temple for a month," Bail reminded him. "I knew him then. I saw how much you meant to him, how proud of you he was."
"No," Obi-Wan said, but his protest was feeble.
Bail led Obi-Wan back to the couch, sitting them both down while his mind worked furiously, thinking through a way to redeem Qui-Gon's memory. "Didn't his previous apprentice turn?" he asked.
"Xanatos."
"He was wounded from that," Bail suggested. Yes, this would work. Thinking aloud, he said, "He didn't want another padawan. But then you came along. He was afraid he would be hurt again, so he held back, but everything he saw in you gave him hope. You gave him the courage to overcome his previous experience."
Obi-Wan frowned, but he was listening.
"Maybe…maybe that's why it was so easy for him to take on Anakin," Bail speculated, "another boy for whom Qui-Gon was the last hope. He looked at Anakin and he saw you again, the boy he had rejected once. You had healed him, and because of that he was able to reach out to Anakin." He paused, gauging Obi-Wan's reaction. The knight remained silent, so Bail continued, "Don't you see? His rejection before had nothing to do with you; it was about Xanatos. But his ready acceptance of Anakin had everything to do with you. You had healed him, and he loved you, and that gave him the strength to reach out to a lonely, friendless child. And when he died, Anakin was his gift to you, to love as he had loved you."
A detached part of Bail's mind reflected that in all his years of political spin-doctoring he had probably never given such a convincing speech on a topic he knew nothing about. Was there any truth at all in what he said? There had to be, if not in Qui-Gon's reality, then in Bail's. From that perspective it was gospel truth.
Obi-Wan said nothing, his breathing ragged but even, his face buried in Bail's lap as the Prince gently stroked his hair. Obi-Wan had calmed down, but he was still tense, waiting – waiting for the words he would never hear, from a voice that had been forever silenced.
But Bail could give this to him. He closed his eyes, resting his cheek on the top of Obi-Wan's head. "He loved you so much," he said. I love you so much. He could put these words into Qui-Gon's mouth. His own feelings could be Qui-Gon's final blessing. "I didn't know him well, but I knew that much," he continued. "I know exactly what he would say if he were here. 'I am so proud of you, Padawan. I am always a part of you. I never meant to hurt you.'"
"Oh, Master," Obi-Wan moaned.
"Tell him what you want him to know," Bail urged. "He's part of the Force now, and the Force is all around us, isn't it? That means he's here right now, right in this room. He'll hear."
Obi-Wan clutched at Bail's robe, his knuckles white with the strain. "I – I…."
"He's here now, listening," Bail pressed. "Tell him."
"Master--," Obi-Wan choked, his fists twisting in Bail's robe. "Master…."
"He's listening."
"I'm sorry!" Obi-Wan blurted out. "I'm so sorry. I failed you."
Bail screwed his eyes shut, forcing himself not to tense up. Damn Qui-Gon Jinn! Bail hoped that wherever the Jedi Master was, he was roasting in torment, the miserable, selfish bastard. How dare he do this to Obi-Wan? How dare he make his padawan suffer so? "You never failed him." Speak for him. Put the right words in Qui-Gon's mouth. "'You never failed me, Padawan. You are the pride of my life. I never had to choose you, Obi-Wan. You were chosen for me, and I am so grateful.'"
Obi-Wan's arms tightened around Bail's waist, clinging, reaching through him to the man on the other side. "Master," he sighed.
"'I'm here. I'm always with you.'"
A very long silence, pregnant with hope, with longing. At last Obi-Wan spoke, a whisper so quiet Bail almost didn't hear it. "I love you, Qui-Gon."
Oh, it hurt. It hurt so much. How much of this pain was Bail's and how much Obi-Wan's? And how much of it might be Qui-Gon's? But this had always been Bail's destiny: to stand in for the love Qui-Gon should have felt for Obi-Wan. So he spoke one final time for Qui-Gon, one final time for himself. "'I love you too, Obi-Wan.'"
Obi-Wan shuddered, releasing a long, shaking breath, then he grew still, his grip on Bail relaxing. He had heard what he needed so desperately to hear.
Was it the truth or was it a lie? Did it really matter, so long as it eased Obi-Wan's anguish? Well, Bail was not a Jedi, he was a politician. He knew that words shape reality, that what we believe is the most important truth of all. He prayed that Obi-Wan would believe this was what Qui-Gon would have said. As for himself, he had to believe it, too.
Even though it broke his heart.