Stars in the Darkness - Part Eight
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"Look, Bau-Bau. It's Mama."
"Yes, little one. I see her."
She smiled over at Ben who was jumping up and down excitedly in Dalan's lap, pointing at his mother on the wide screen. They, along with most of the household staff, were in the large, first-floor drawing room of the manor. Dalan had recently had a connection to the HoloNet installed, and it just so happened the first broadcast was of Senator Rhygdon's party on Coruscant which---Sinja-Bau quickly calculated Coruscant time against Ahjane time---had happened some hours ago.
At first Dalan had not thought Onara would be in attendance, but when he saw her being pulled upon the stage by Senator Rhygdon, he had quickly summoned most of the servants so they could see her.
Now, Sinja-Bau watched as Onara and Obi-Wan, along with Anakin, were introduced to the crowd at the party. Upon hearing Obi-Wan's name, Ben leaned forward so far out of Dalan's lap, Sinja-Bau feared he was going to tumble onto the floor.
"Obi-Wan," he said, his voice filled with awe, his wide, blue-gray eyes fixed on the screen. Then he jumped up and down again on Dalan's lap. "Papa, look, look! It's Obi-Wan. It's Obi-Wan!"
Sinja-Bau glanced at Dalan. The young Dynast's gaze was fastened on the screen, but his dark blue eyes were somber. Sinja-Bau looked at the screen and just happened to catch the warm smile Obi-Wan gave Onara. And the way Onara looked over at the handsome Jedi Knight as she returned his smile.
Sinja-Bau shivered slightly as she felt a icy caress of premonition stealing down her spine. She no longer had her visions, but her connection to the Force had returned and it was warning her. But of what, she did not know.
After Onara, Obi-Wan and Anakin had left the stage, the HoloNet correspondent, a purple-haired human female with a wide, red mouth, smiled from where she was standing somewhere in the crowd. She reminded the audience to tune in tomorrow for something called _Sightings from Twang_ where, the woman promised, her bright, yellow eyes glittering, someone named Dyslogia Twang would present his exclusive, insider report of all the goings on at Senator Rhygdon's party.
"All the juicy gossip you could want, sweetlings," the woman purred.
Sinja-Bau grimaced. It looked like things hadn't changed much on Coruscant. There was still an insatiable need of the public for anything salacious and scandalous concerning the rich and powerful, and a media more than willing to dish it out.
Well, she thought, as she rose from her chair and went to get Ben from Dalan and take him to bed, she had no intention of tuning in tomorrow for _Sightings from Twang_ or sightings from anyone else for that matter. She had seen Onara and she looked well and happy, and Ben had seen his mother and, finally, for the first time, his hero, Obi-Wan.
Actually, as Sinja-Bau took Ben from Dalan, who didn't even seem to notice she had done so, Obi-Wan was all Ben talked about until he finally went to sleep.
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Onara waved on the lights to her apartment as she and Obi-Wan entered it. She had forgotten about the boxes still scattered about the common area. She glanced over at Obi-Wan, embarrassed about the clutter, and was about to apologize but, when she saw the look in his eyes as he gazed over at her, her throat suddenly closed up. She quickly looked away, making her way through the boxes, Obi-Wan behind her. She took off her cape and laid it on the couch. She turned to Obi-Wan who was standing just behind her.
"Would you like something to drink?" she asked. "Non-alcoholic, of course," she quickly added. "I think I have some paupa juice or green tea if you'd prefer---"
"No, Onara," Obi-Wan said, his eyes soft on her. "I'm fine, thank you."
"Oh. Well, please, sit down, Obi-Wan."
He took off his cloak and laid it next to her cape. Onara had been surprised to see him dressed that way when she first saw him at the party, accustomed as she was to seeing most Jedi in the traditional clothing they wore. Though, she now recalled, she had seen him in the black outfit he'd worn when he went in search of Sinja-Bau.
But what he wore now--the black, velvet waist-coat, the soft, white shirt, gray pants, and knee-high boots-- made him look like a handsome, young courtier from an ancient Ahjane court, having stepped out, flesh and blood, from one of the romances Onara used to sneak and read at the Cloister. Noting he was still standing, she invited him again to sit. He shook his head and smiled.
"I'm too excited to sit."
"Excited?"
"About my present," he said, his blue-gray eyes sparkling.
"Of course," Onara laughed. "Here. Let me get it for you."
She turned and went into her bedroom. There were boxes in here also, but Onara knew exactly where she had put Ben's gift. Opening the bureau next to her bed, she took it out. She'd had the drawing framed and gift-wrapped in red and gold paper. Her heart beat hard as she held it in her hands, both excited and nervous about Obi-Wan's reaction to it. He had requested, when Ben was a baby, for her not to tell their son about him, fearing it would only confuse him. And he had been right.
When Onara had started telling Ben stories about Obi-Wan, as he got older she also tried to tell him Obi-Wan was his father, but it had only confused him. The only father he had ever known was Dalan. But she had continued to tell him stories about the Jedi Knight, unable to deny him, or herself, she now realized, the pleasure of those stories.
As a result, Ben knew about Obi-Wan, but only as some larger-than-life figure, a brave and mighty knight who fought dark lords and space-dragons, rescued fair maidens, and upheld justice and truth. Onara's fingers tightened around the gift. Turning, she went back towards the common room but, just before she went through her bedroom door, she stopped.
Obi-Wan was walking about the common room. The glow lamps were on in the apartment, but they were so low the lights from Coruscant's dazzling cityscape were the primary illumination. As she continued to watch him, the lights from beyond the windows glimmering on his red-gold hair as he moved about, examining the carvings, statutes and paintings she had brought from Ahjane to give her some semblance of home, her heart fluttered wildly in her chest. Though she had tried as hard as she could to love Dalan, it was Obi-Wan who reigned supreme as the singular sovereign of her heart. And she was his devoted and, she now feared, ill-fated subject.
But, determined to renounce the passion she still felt for Obi-Wan and hold true to the vow she had sworn to Sinja-Bau the night before she left Ahjane, to be true to Dalan, Onara took in and released a deep breath and walked over to the Jedi. She would give him Ben's gift as she had promised and that would be that. He would leave, return to the Temple and the path he had chosen, and she would go to bed, alone, and wake up tomorrow with neither guilt or regret darkening her thoughts, for she would have also remained true to the path she had chosen.
Obi-Wan was standing in front of a small statue he had looked at earlier, but had returned to. As Onara drew closer and saw it, her cheeks burned. It was a statuette of the fabled lovers Romal and Juvia, characters in one of Ahjane's most beloved love stories.
Although the story ended in tragedy, with the death of the star-crossed lovers, it was often performed in theaters all over Ahjane. Dalan had given the statuette to Onara for her birthday. It showed the lovers clasped in a particularly erotic embrace. As she drew nearer, Obi-Wan turned from it and looked over at her, his blue-gray eyes meeting her dark ones.
"Lovely," he said, gesturing towards it.
Onara nodded, but her throat was so tight she could hardly speak.
"Dalan gave it to me for my birthday."
Obi-Wan stared at her and, for a moment, it looked as if a shadow had passed over his eyes.
"It's of Romal and Juvia," she went on. "From a very old story."
"A story?" Obi-Wan said with a soft smile. "I remember your stories, Onara. Do you still tell them?"
Onara nodded, looking down at Ben's present in her hands.
"To Ben?" Obi-Wan went on.
She raised her eyes and looked over at him, her heart so full she thought it would burst.
"Yes, to Ben."
"Before he goes to bed?"
Onara nodded, suddenly feeling as if she were going to cry. She quickly blinked away the tears she felt stinging her eyes.
"Ben's present," she said, handing it over, her voice trembling slightly.
Obi-Wan's eyes widened at the beautifully wrapped package. He took it and held it for a moment, gazing down at it. Then, without a word, he gently opened it; careful, Onara noted, not to tear the wrapping. Once he was done unwrapping it, he looked at the drawing. Onara had had it framed in an ebony and gold picture frame a few days ago. As Obi-Wan continued to stare down at Ben's drawing, his ongoing silence suddenly made Onara uneasy. She reached over and pointed at the drawing; needlessly, she realized, but unable to stop herself.
"That's Ben and that's you," she said. "And Ben...he wrote that himself," she said nervously of his red childish scrawl. "Well, actually, Dalan helped him. Ben wanted you to know that. He's just learning how to write his letters. That's why some of the words are misspelled, but Sinja-Bau says he's the brightest two year old she's ever seen and..."
Onara's voice trailed away as Obi-Wan walked silently past her, his gaze locked on the drawing. She watched, her breath catching, as he moved over to the couch. He turned and then, almost as if he were falling, dropped heavily onto it.
"For Obi-Wan, Jedi Knight. My hero. From your good friend, Ben," she heard him whisper.
But it wasn't what he said that caused the blood to chill in her veins. It was the way he said it, his voice sounding both empty and full. But full of pain. Onara rushed over and, her evening gown pooling around her, knelt on the floor next to him. She put her hand on his knee and squeezed it.
"Obi-Wan," she said gently.
He tore his gaze away from Ben's gift and looked over at her, his blue-gray eyes shimmering in the near-darkness of the room.
"Do you have a picture of him?" he asked in a low, soft voice.
Onara nodded, her throat thick and hard. She rose quickly from the floor and went into her bedroom. On her bureau was the picture she had shown to Padmé earlier in the day of her, Dalan and Ben. But there was another on it. It was of Ben alone. It was a 2-D photograph of a large oil painting that hung in the drawing room of the manor. Another present from Dalan. Given that, one day, when he came of age, Ben would rule as Dynast of both their provinces, Dalan had had him painted in the ceremonial attire of a future Dynast.
Ben wore a dark blue dress coat with cream-colored satin and gold braid along its edges. The sleeves were somewhat wide at the wrist and were turn- backed, laced and edged in gold. The coat had a slight flair and ended just below his little knees. Underneath the coat he wore a cream-colored neck cloth, white satin breeches, silk stockings, and dark blue, silver-buckled shoes.
Dalan had apparently requested the artist paint Ben with a serious expression, for his little face was appropriately solemn, as befitting a future Dynast, but the painter had also captured the vivacity and the irrepressible delight in his beautiful blue-gray eyes as they shone underneath his thick black hair. The very eyes he shared with the man who now sat in Onara's apartment.
She picked up the portrait of Ben and took it to Obi-Wan. The Jedi was still sitting on the couch, their son's drawing clasped between his hands. Onara sat gently next to him and handed him Ben's portrait. Obi-Wan took it. Again, he gazed quietly at it for a long moment. Then, again, without a word, he carefully placed both the drawing and the photograph of Ben's painting on the low table in front of the couch, rose from it and walked across the room where he stopped in the front of the huge glass door that led out to the apartment's veranda.
Onara sat, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. Her gaze was locked on Ben's drawing and his portrait, but she didn't really see them. For a long moment she sat on the couch as Obi-Wan stood silently in front of the glass door. Then she rose from the couch and went over to him. She stood behind him for a moment, then gently slipped her arms around his waist, pressing the side of her face against the back of his soft, velvet waistcoat.
At first Obi-Wan did not move. Then she felt him move his hands up and grab hers where they were clasped across his chest. Their fingers gently entwined.
"Do you know," she heard him say in a soft, reflective voice, "there are these wondrous creatures who live in the oceans of Bestine. They're called the Pili. Some of them are as big as star-liners. I swam with them every day I was on Bestine. They're very strong with the Force. That's why the Jedi built the chapterhouse on Bestine. To learn and study with the Pili."
Obi-Wan stopped for a moment. Onara held him tighter.
"The Pili do not mind the presence of the Jedi," he continued, "and they are willing to share their knowledge of the Force with us, but they have no desires beyond that. They crave nothing, neither to be of service or to be served. All they do, all they want, is to commune with the Force. It sings to them and they revel in its song. And I would swim with them, yearning to feel the Force as they did, watching with envy as they danced and swam within its beauty. And sometimes, if I concentrated very hard as I swam with them, I felt a little of what they did."
Obi-Wan's voice, which Onara could hear was on the verge of tears, shifted slightly.
"Their thoughts, Onara," he said in an awed-filled voice, "are almost....glacial. No desire, no fear, no passion, no want. Just the Force, pure and untainted."
Obi-Wan sighed heavily, and Onara's face, where it was pressed against his broad back, rose and feel with his breath.
"It was because of the Pili and what I experienced with them that I was able to find my way back to the Jedi path. They helped me to remember what it was I had sworn my life to; the vows I had taken the day I became a Jedi Knight. A thousand years ago, after the Battle of Ruusan, Jedi Master Hoche Trit said that a Jedi is a Jedi, first, foremost, and only. To divide his attention between the will of the Force and the will of others is to invite disaster."
Onara closed her eyes, the tears slipping beneath her lids and down her cheeks, moistening the fabric of Obi-Wan's waistcoat. Yes, this she knew. Had always known.
"A Jedi's loyalties," Obi-Wan went on, "must be to the Force, the Jedi Order, the Republic, and to himself, in that order. Do you understand that, Onara?" he asked, his voice now ragged with grief.
"Yes, yes, I do," Onara whispered against his back.
She felt him turning around. She released him and, as he faced her, looked up into his eyes, but was nearly knocked over by the pain she saw in them.
"I understood it also," he said softly, his eyes bright with the tears she sensed he was struggling to hold in. "Until now."
He reached over and gently stroked her cheek. "Listen, carefully, Onara. I must leave. Right now. Because if I don't...."
He stopped and took her gently by the arms, his shimmering eyes sweeping desperately over her face.
"If I don't leave now," he said, his voice both fierce and gentle, "I will take you into my arms and never let you go. And I will give up everything for you. And for Ben; the Jedi, my duty, the promise I made to my master to train Anakin. I know this, Onara. I know this as surely as I know Coruscant spins around its sun. I felt it from the very moment I saw you tonight at the party.
He glanced over at Ben's drawing and portrait where they lay on the table.
"I thought I was strong enough to stand firm with my convictions. But now I have seen what my life could have been if I had done what I longed to do when last we were together. Taken you as my wife and Ben as my son. A son..." Obi-Wan stopped, his voice aching "...a son any father would be proud and honored to call his own. A beautiful son from a beautiful woman whom I still love with all that I am and all I will ever be."
Onara could only gaze up at Obi-Wan in despair. She was about to speak, to tell him she still loved him too, but he put his finger on her lips and gently shook his head no.
"Keep your honor, my love. I will speak for us both."
He reached inside his shirt and pulled out the pendant her father had given him before he left on his quest to find Sinja-Bau. He pressed it open and the tiny holographic image of Onara and Ben as a newborn formed between them.
"I kept this," he told her. "Close to and within my heart."
He shook his head, looking down and away from her. "I have not been honest. With myself or with the Council. You and Ben have always been foremost in my heart."
Onara reached over and clasped his face between her hands, but she was unable to speak, for fear of the words she would say. Obi-Wan raised his eyes and looked over at her.
"And if you and Ben were mine, truly mine, I would oppose with all my strength and all my power, even unto death, anyone or anything who tried to take you from me. Even he who has right and honorable claim to you both. Even he, though it pains me to say this, whom I now envy above all men."
He reached up and put his hands over hers where they held his face.
"So, my lovely one, do you see why I must go?"
Onara nodded, the tears welling in her eyes again. "Yes, I do. I do."
"I know you have sworn to be true to Dalan. I can feel it. And that is as it should be," Obi-Wan added softly, his eyes brimming as he looked down at her. "Because, by the ancients, I would rather die than hurt you."
"But, by the gods, I would rather you hurt me than die," Onara whispered.
Obi-Wan turned his face and kissed the palm of her hand as it lay against his cheek.
"You will keep Ben's gift, won't you?" she asked. "He wanted so much for you to have it."
Obi-Wan smiled down at her. "Of course I will keep it. And will you tell him...tell him thank you for me?"
Onara nodded. Then she swallowed and gazed imploringly up into his eyes.
"Will I ever see you again?"
"Of course. Just not like this. Not alone like this. It would not be wise? Agreed?"
She nodded. He was right. For even now, all she could think of was how much she longed to be his arms, loving and being loved by him.
"But when Ben comes to Coruscant, you will see him, won't you?"
Obi-Wan smiled widely. "Of course I will. I look forward to it. Very much so."
He reached up and gently took Onara's hands from his face. He held one of them as he led her over to the couch where they both sat. Leaning over, he picked up Ben's portrait, staring down at it.
"Is he happy?" he asked.
"Yes, very."
Obi-Wan slowly nodded. He gave the portrait to Onara who clutched it to her chest. Rising, he reached for his cloak and put it on. He picked up Ben's drawing, along with the paper wrapping it had come in, which he folded neatly and placed on top of the picture. Then he looked over at Onara.
"Thank you, Onara, for bringing this to me."
"I promised Ben I would give it to you. You're his hero, Obi-Wan. Please don't be angry, but I told him stories about you. And...at first, when I told him the stories, I also tried to tell him you were his father."
She stopped for a moment when she saw the alarm in his eyes.
"But you were right," she went on quickly. "It only confused him. He thinks Dalan is his father."
Obi-Wan nodded. "As it should be. But know this, Onara. If ever you or Ben have need of me, do not hesitate to call upon me. I will come. You have my solemn vow on that."
He reached over and took her hand. Lifting it, he kissed it gently.
"Good night, Senator Lenor," he said, his blue-gray eyes gazing deeply into hers.
"Good night, Master Kenobi," Onara replied, a knot forming hard in her throat.
He lowered her hand and smiled at her. Then, turning quickly, Ben's gift firmly in hand, he turned and left her apartment. Once Onara heard the door to the lift open, then slide shut, she crumpled to the floor, Ben's portrait pressed tightly to her chest as she wept quietly.
To be continued....
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"Look, Bau-Bau. It's Mama."
"Yes, little one. I see her."
She smiled over at Ben who was jumping up and down excitedly in Dalan's lap, pointing at his mother on the wide screen. They, along with most of the household staff, were in the large, first-floor drawing room of the manor. Dalan had recently had a connection to the HoloNet installed, and it just so happened the first broadcast was of Senator Rhygdon's party on Coruscant which---Sinja-Bau quickly calculated Coruscant time against Ahjane time---had happened some hours ago.
At first Dalan had not thought Onara would be in attendance, but when he saw her being pulled upon the stage by Senator Rhygdon, he had quickly summoned most of the servants so they could see her.
Now, Sinja-Bau watched as Onara and Obi-Wan, along with Anakin, were introduced to the crowd at the party. Upon hearing Obi-Wan's name, Ben leaned forward so far out of Dalan's lap, Sinja-Bau feared he was going to tumble onto the floor.
"Obi-Wan," he said, his voice filled with awe, his wide, blue-gray eyes fixed on the screen. Then he jumped up and down again on Dalan's lap. "Papa, look, look! It's Obi-Wan. It's Obi-Wan!"
Sinja-Bau glanced at Dalan. The young Dynast's gaze was fastened on the screen, but his dark blue eyes were somber. Sinja-Bau looked at the screen and just happened to catch the warm smile Obi-Wan gave Onara. And the way Onara looked over at the handsome Jedi Knight as she returned his smile.
Sinja-Bau shivered slightly as she felt a icy caress of premonition stealing down her spine. She no longer had her visions, but her connection to the Force had returned and it was warning her. But of what, she did not know.
After Onara, Obi-Wan and Anakin had left the stage, the HoloNet correspondent, a purple-haired human female with a wide, red mouth, smiled from where she was standing somewhere in the crowd. She reminded the audience to tune in tomorrow for something called _Sightings from Twang_ where, the woman promised, her bright, yellow eyes glittering, someone named Dyslogia Twang would present his exclusive, insider report of all the goings on at Senator Rhygdon's party.
"All the juicy gossip you could want, sweetlings," the woman purred.
Sinja-Bau grimaced. It looked like things hadn't changed much on Coruscant. There was still an insatiable need of the public for anything salacious and scandalous concerning the rich and powerful, and a media more than willing to dish it out.
Well, she thought, as she rose from her chair and went to get Ben from Dalan and take him to bed, she had no intention of tuning in tomorrow for _Sightings from Twang_ or sightings from anyone else for that matter. She had seen Onara and she looked well and happy, and Ben had seen his mother and, finally, for the first time, his hero, Obi-Wan.
Actually, as Sinja-Bau took Ben from Dalan, who didn't even seem to notice she had done so, Obi-Wan was all Ben talked about until he finally went to sleep.
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Onara waved on the lights to her apartment as she and Obi-Wan entered it. She had forgotten about the boxes still scattered about the common area. She glanced over at Obi-Wan, embarrassed about the clutter, and was about to apologize but, when she saw the look in his eyes as he gazed over at her, her throat suddenly closed up. She quickly looked away, making her way through the boxes, Obi-Wan behind her. She took off her cape and laid it on the couch. She turned to Obi-Wan who was standing just behind her.
"Would you like something to drink?" she asked. "Non-alcoholic, of course," she quickly added. "I think I have some paupa juice or green tea if you'd prefer---"
"No, Onara," Obi-Wan said, his eyes soft on her. "I'm fine, thank you."
"Oh. Well, please, sit down, Obi-Wan."
He took off his cloak and laid it next to her cape. Onara had been surprised to see him dressed that way when she first saw him at the party, accustomed as she was to seeing most Jedi in the traditional clothing they wore. Though, she now recalled, she had seen him in the black outfit he'd worn when he went in search of Sinja-Bau.
But what he wore now--the black, velvet waist-coat, the soft, white shirt, gray pants, and knee-high boots-- made him look like a handsome, young courtier from an ancient Ahjane court, having stepped out, flesh and blood, from one of the romances Onara used to sneak and read at the Cloister. Noting he was still standing, she invited him again to sit. He shook his head and smiled.
"I'm too excited to sit."
"Excited?"
"About my present," he said, his blue-gray eyes sparkling.
"Of course," Onara laughed. "Here. Let me get it for you."
She turned and went into her bedroom. There were boxes in here also, but Onara knew exactly where she had put Ben's gift. Opening the bureau next to her bed, she took it out. She'd had the drawing framed and gift-wrapped in red and gold paper. Her heart beat hard as she held it in her hands, both excited and nervous about Obi-Wan's reaction to it. He had requested, when Ben was a baby, for her not to tell their son about him, fearing it would only confuse him. And he had been right.
When Onara had started telling Ben stories about Obi-Wan, as he got older she also tried to tell him Obi-Wan was his father, but it had only confused him. The only father he had ever known was Dalan. But she had continued to tell him stories about the Jedi Knight, unable to deny him, or herself, she now realized, the pleasure of those stories.
As a result, Ben knew about Obi-Wan, but only as some larger-than-life figure, a brave and mighty knight who fought dark lords and space-dragons, rescued fair maidens, and upheld justice and truth. Onara's fingers tightened around the gift. Turning, she went back towards the common room but, just before she went through her bedroom door, she stopped.
Obi-Wan was walking about the common room. The glow lamps were on in the apartment, but they were so low the lights from Coruscant's dazzling cityscape were the primary illumination. As she continued to watch him, the lights from beyond the windows glimmering on his red-gold hair as he moved about, examining the carvings, statutes and paintings she had brought from Ahjane to give her some semblance of home, her heart fluttered wildly in her chest. Though she had tried as hard as she could to love Dalan, it was Obi-Wan who reigned supreme as the singular sovereign of her heart. And she was his devoted and, she now feared, ill-fated subject.
But, determined to renounce the passion she still felt for Obi-Wan and hold true to the vow she had sworn to Sinja-Bau the night before she left Ahjane, to be true to Dalan, Onara took in and released a deep breath and walked over to the Jedi. She would give him Ben's gift as she had promised and that would be that. He would leave, return to the Temple and the path he had chosen, and she would go to bed, alone, and wake up tomorrow with neither guilt or regret darkening her thoughts, for she would have also remained true to the path she had chosen.
Obi-Wan was standing in front of a small statue he had looked at earlier, but had returned to. As Onara drew closer and saw it, her cheeks burned. It was a statuette of the fabled lovers Romal and Juvia, characters in one of Ahjane's most beloved love stories.
Although the story ended in tragedy, with the death of the star-crossed lovers, it was often performed in theaters all over Ahjane. Dalan had given the statuette to Onara for her birthday. It showed the lovers clasped in a particularly erotic embrace. As she drew nearer, Obi-Wan turned from it and looked over at her, his blue-gray eyes meeting her dark ones.
"Lovely," he said, gesturing towards it.
Onara nodded, but her throat was so tight she could hardly speak.
"Dalan gave it to me for my birthday."
Obi-Wan stared at her and, for a moment, it looked as if a shadow had passed over his eyes.
"It's of Romal and Juvia," she went on. "From a very old story."
"A story?" Obi-Wan said with a soft smile. "I remember your stories, Onara. Do you still tell them?"
Onara nodded, looking down at Ben's present in her hands.
"To Ben?" Obi-Wan went on.
She raised her eyes and looked over at him, her heart so full she thought it would burst.
"Yes, to Ben."
"Before he goes to bed?"
Onara nodded, suddenly feeling as if she were going to cry. She quickly blinked away the tears she felt stinging her eyes.
"Ben's present," she said, handing it over, her voice trembling slightly.
Obi-Wan's eyes widened at the beautifully wrapped package. He took it and held it for a moment, gazing down at it. Then, without a word, he gently opened it; careful, Onara noted, not to tear the wrapping. Once he was done unwrapping it, he looked at the drawing. Onara had had it framed in an ebony and gold picture frame a few days ago. As Obi-Wan continued to stare down at Ben's drawing, his ongoing silence suddenly made Onara uneasy. She reached over and pointed at the drawing; needlessly, she realized, but unable to stop herself.
"That's Ben and that's you," she said. "And Ben...he wrote that himself," she said nervously of his red childish scrawl. "Well, actually, Dalan helped him. Ben wanted you to know that. He's just learning how to write his letters. That's why some of the words are misspelled, but Sinja-Bau says he's the brightest two year old she's ever seen and..."
Onara's voice trailed away as Obi-Wan walked silently past her, his gaze locked on the drawing. She watched, her breath catching, as he moved over to the couch. He turned and then, almost as if he were falling, dropped heavily onto it.
"For Obi-Wan, Jedi Knight. My hero. From your good friend, Ben," she heard him whisper.
But it wasn't what he said that caused the blood to chill in her veins. It was the way he said it, his voice sounding both empty and full. But full of pain. Onara rushed over and, her evening gown pooling around her, knelt on the floor next to him. She put her hand on his knee and squeezed it.
"Obi-Wan," she said gently.
He tore his gaze away from Ben's gift and looked over at her, his blue-gray eyes shimmering in the near-darkness of the room.
"Do you have a picture of him?" he asked in a low, soft voice.
Onara nodded, her throat thick and hard. She rose quickly from the floor and went into her bedroom. On her bureau was the picture she had shown to Padmé earlier in the day of her, Dalan and Ben. But there was another on it. It was of Ben alone. It was a 2-D photograph of a large oil painting that hung in the drawing room of the manor. Another present from Dalan. Given that, one day, when he came of age, Ben would rule as Dynast of both their provinces, Dalan had had him painted in the ceremonial attire of a future Dynast.
Ben wore a dark blue dress coat with cream-colored satin and gold braid along its edges. The sleeves were somewhat wide at the wrist and were turn- backed, laced and edged in gold. The coat had a slight flair and ended just below his little knees. Underneath the coat he wore a cream-colored neck cloth, white satin breeches, silk stockings, and dark blue, silver-buckled shoes.
Dalan had apparently requested the artist paint Ben with a serious expression, for his little face was appropriately solemn, as befitting a future Dynast, but the painter had also captured the vivacity and the irrepressible delight in his beautiful blue-gray eyes as they shone underneath his thick black hair. The very eyes he shared with the man who now sat in Onara's apartment.
She picked up the portrait of Ben and took it to Obi-Wan. The Jedi was still sitting on the couch, their son's drawing clasped between his hands. Onara sat gently next to him and handed him Ben's portrait. Obi-Wan took it. Again, he gazed quietly at it for a long moment. Then, again, without a word, he carefully placed both the drawing and the photograph of Ben's painting on the low table in front of the couch, rose from it and walked across the room where he stopped in the front of the huge glass door that led out to the apartment's veranda.
Onara sat, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. Her gaze was locked on Ben's drawing and his portrait, but she didn't really see them. For a long moment she sat on the couch as Obi-Wan stood silently in front of the glass door. Then she rose from the couch and went over to him. She stood behind him for a moment, then gently slipped her arms around his waist, pressing the side of her face against the back of his soft, velvet waistcoat.
At first Obi-Wan did not move. Then she felt him move his hands up and grab hers where they were clasped across his chest. Their fingers gently entwined.
"Do you know," she heard him say in a soft, reflective voice, "there are these wondrous creatures who live in the oceans of Bestine. They're called the Pili. Some of them are as big as star-liners. I swam with them every day I was on Bestine. They're very strong with the Force. That's why the Jedi built the chapterhouse on Bestine. To learn and study with the Pili."
Obi-Wan stopped for a moment. Onara held him tighter.
"The Pili do not mind the presence of the Jedi," he continued, "and they are willing to share their knowledge of the Force with us, but they have no desires beyond that. They crave nothing, neither to be of service or to be served. All they do, all they want, is to commune with the Force. It sings to them and they revel in its song. And I would swim with them, yearning to feel the Force as they did, watching with envy as they danced and swam within its beauty. And sometimes, if I concentrated very hard as I swam with them, I felt a little of what they did."
Obi-Wan's voice, which Onara could hear was on the verge of tears, shifted slightly.
"Their thoughts, Onara," he said in an awed-filled voice, "are almost....glacial. No desire, no fear, no passion, no want. Just the Force, pure and untainted."
Obi-Wan sighed heavily, and Onara's face, where it was pressed against his broad back, rose and feel with his breath.
"It was because of the Pili and what I experienced with them that I was able to find my way back to the Jedi path. They helped me to remember what it was I had sworn my life to; the vows I had taken the day I became a Jedi Knight. A thousand years ago, after the Battle of Ruusan, Jedi Master Hoche Trit said that a Jedi is a Jedi, first, foremost, and only. To divide his attention between the will of the Force and the will of others is to invite disaster."
Onara closed her eyes, the tears slipping beneath her lids and down her cheeks, moistening the fabric of Obi-Wan's waistcoat. Yes, this she knew. Had always known.
"A Jedi's loyalties," Obi-Wan went on, "must be to the Force, the Jedi Order, the Republic, and to himself, in that order. Do you understand that, Onara?" he asked, his voice now ragged with grief.
"Yes, yes, I do," Onara whispered against his back.
She felt him turning around. She released him and, as he faced her, looked up into his eyes, but was nearly knocked over by the pain she saw in them.
"I understood it also," he said softly, his eyes bright with the tears she sensed he was struggling to hold in. "Until now."
He reached over and gently stroked her cheek. "Listen, carefully, Onara. I must leave. Right now. Because if I don't...."
He stopped and took her gently by the arms, his shimmering eyes sweeping desperately over her face.
"If I don't leave now," he said, his voice both fierce and gentle, "I will take you into my arms and never let you go. And I will give up everything for you. And for Ben; the Jedi, my duty, the promise I made to my master to train Anakin. I know this, Onara. I know this as surely as I know Coruscant spins around its sun. I felt it from the very moment I saw you tonight at the party.
He glanced over at Ben's drawing and portrait where they lay on the table.
"I thought I was strong enough to stand firm with my convictions. But now I have seen what my life could have been if I had done what I longed to do when last we were together. Taken you as my wife and Ben as my son. A son..." Obi-Wan stopped, his voice aching "...a son any father would be proud and honored to call his own. A beautiful son from a beautiful woman whom I still love with all that I am and all I will ever be."
Onara could only gaze up at Obi-Wan in despair. She was about to speak, to tell him she still loved him too, but he put his finger on her lips and gently shook his head no.
"Keep your honor, my love. I will speak for us both."
He reached inside his shirt and pulled out the pendant her father had given him before he left on his quest to find Sinja-Bau. He pressed it open and the tiny holographic image of Onara and Ben as a newborn formed between them.
"I kept this," he told her. "Close to and within my heart."
He shook his head, looking down and away from her. "I have not been honest. With myself or with the Council. You and Ben have always been foremost in my heart."
Onara reached over and clasped his face between her hands, but she was unable to speak, for fear of the words she would say. Obi-Wan raised his eyes and looked over at her.
"And if you and Ben were mine, truly mine, I would oppose with all my strength and all my power, even unto death, anyone or anything who tried to take you from me. Even he who has right and honorable claim to you both. Even he, though it pains me to say this, whom I now envy above all men."
He reached up and put his hands over hers where they held his face.
"So, my lovely one, do you see why I must go?"
Onara nodded, the tears welling in her eyes again. "Yes, I do. I do."
"I know you have sworn to be true to Dalan. I can feel it. And that is as it should be," Obi-Wan added softly, his eyes brimming as he looked down at her. "Because, by the ancients, I would rather die than hurt you."
"But, by the gods, I would rather you hurt me than die," Onara whispered.
Obi-Wan turned his face and kissed the palm of her hand as it lay against his cheek.
"You will keep Ben's gift, won't you?" she asked. "He wanted so much for you to have it."
Obi-Wan smiled down at her. "Of course I will keep it. And will you tell him...tell him thank you for me?"
Onara nodded. Then she swallowed and gazed imploringly up into his eyes.
"Will I ever see you again?"
"Of course. Just not like this. Not alone like this. It would not be wise? Agreed?"
She nodded. He was right. For even now, all she could think of was how much she longed to be his arms, loving and being loved by him.
"But when Ben comes to Coruscant, you will see him, won't you?"
Obi-Wan smiled widely. "Of course I will. I look forward to it. Very much so."
He reached up and gently took Onara's hands from his face. He held one of them as he led her over to the couch where they both sat. Leaning over, he picked up Ben's portrait, staring down at it.
"Is he happy?" he asked.
"Yes, very."
Obi-Wan slowly nodded. He gave the portrait to Onara who clutched it to her chest. Rising, he reached for his cloak and put it on. He picked up Ben's drawing, along with the paper wrapping it had come in, which he folded neatly and placed on top of the picture. Then he looked over at Onara.
"Thank you, Onara, for bringing this to me."
"I promised Ben I would give it to you. You're his hero, Obi-Wan. Please don't be angry, but I told him stories about you. And...at first, when I told him the stories, I also tried to tell him you were his father."
She stopped for a moment when she saw the alarm in his eyes.
"But you were right," she went on quickly. "It only confused him. He thinks Dalan is his father."
Obi-Wan nodded. "As it should be. But know this, Onara. If ever you or Ben have need of me, do not hesitate to call upon me. I will come. You have my solemn vow on that."
He reached over and took her hand. Lifting it, he kissed it gently.
"Good night, Senator Lenor," he said, his blue-gray eyes gazing deeply into hers.
"Good night, Master Kenobi," Onara replied, a knot forming hard in her throat.
He lowered her hand and smiled at her. Then, turning quickly, Ben's gift firmly in hand, he turned and left her apartment. Once Onara heard the door to the lift open, then slide shut, she crumpled to the floor, Ben's portrait pressed tightly to her chest as she wept quietly.
To be continued....