Title: Gifts of the Jedi
Characters: Obi-Wan Kenobi, Siri Tachi
Era: Just before TPM
Genre: Romance
Author's note: This is a loose tribute to one of my favorite short stories, "The Gift of the Magi" by O. Henry, and it's also my way of resolving the fact that Obi-Wan and Siri make that silly promise in SotJ, then appear to be great friends in the JQ books. It was written as a gift for a friend and originally posted at tf.n.
Disclaimer: Nothing in this 'verse belongs to me.

It is widely known throughout the galaxy that the Jedi are the beings who best personify wisdom and generosity. Schoolchildren are regaled with tales of the guardians who sacrifice material possessions, love and families, and their lives to ensure that peace and justice thrive. Indeed, many would say it is their sacrifices that make them worthy. But who is more worthy – the Jedi who simply does not allow any personal needs to taint his purpose or the Jedi who falters and, for a moment, allows himself to forget the path he has chosen? You may find the answer to be ridiculously obvious, but let me relate to you – in my pathetic fashion – this tale of two foolish Padawans.

A dusty tin of tea, a packet of tuber crisps and half a roll of biscuits. That was all. Little scraps sent over by a Master who was concerned about the bare state of her student's cabinets. Force knows how long those things had been there. Not even the gully rats would bother with these meager offerings.

On a normal day, Siri Tachi wouldn't have been fazed by this. When not on missions, she ate her meals with Master Adi or in the dining hall, and she preferred to spend her free time at the Temple in the salle working up a sweat and pushing her muscles to the point of exhaustion.

But today the bare cabinets were irksome. She was expecting company - awkward company in the form of Obi-Wan Kenobi.

They had passed one another in the Grand Hall just a few minutes earlier, but instead of simply following their custom of exchanging nods and continuing on their way, Obi-Wan had stopped. Without greetings or niceties, he told her he needed to speak with her and asked if it would be all right for him to come by her quarters. Siri had been so flummoxed – the two hadn't exchanged more than five words to one another since that day in the Room of a Thousand Fountains – that all she could do was nod dumbly. He'd then mumbled something about getting a package and meeting her in a half-hour.

Staring blankly into her near-empty cabinets, Siri released an exasperated hiss between her teeth. She wasn't so bothered by the idea of having nothing to serve as much as having nothing to do with her hands during what was sure to be an awkward visit. As she was about to slam the door, a glint the back corner of the cabinet caught her eye. Closer inspection revealed it to be a squat round bottle filled with a near-opaque violet liquid.

"Well, I can't serve him that," she said to herself. The chuckle that escaped her lips lifted some of the tension from her shoulders. As reason started to clear some of the fog from her mind, she realized she was being silly. The visit would probably be about nothing important, just a friendly conversation between two Padawans.

The thing was, they hadn't had a friendly conversation in six or seven years. As teenagers, they had made a promise to one another to keep their attraction buried and interact only as comrades. It had been Siri's idea, and when she proposed it, it had sounded so simple. Easier than exchanging significant looks and constantly longing for the other's touch. Easier than trying to pretend that you are friends when your feelings are well beyond that.

It had sounded so simple.

Yet there were times when she wished they could at least exchange a look without immediately turning away. Or tease one another. What she missed most about their self-exile was what they had shared before the revelation about their feelings, their friendship. It had never been an easy one, with their competitive streaks and constant needling, but it had been enough. And with her pending mission, she could use all the friends she had, even those who came with baggage.

For weeks now, Siri had been preparing for her next task. She and Adi had been investigating the actions of Krayn, the head of a slave trading ring. Determined to bring him down, the pair – along with a few key Council members – had mapped out a plan to infiltrate the organization from the inside. Of course, that meant someone would have to go undercover and ingratiate herself with the big boss. Siri's age and abilities had apparently made her the woman for the job, at least according to Adi. Whatever doubts she had about herself and the mission, Siri would set them aside to do her duty.

The door chimed, breaking into Siri's thoughts. Trying to look casual, she leaned up against the wall and waved the door open, after which she fervently wished she'd taken a second to check for any bit of food stuck between her teeth.

The panel slid open, revealing Obi-Wan, who at that moment was the very image of the ideal Jedi learner, with a dark russet cloak free of wrinkles, rips or spots, its folds falling in perfect lines to his ankles. His hands hidden in the voluminous sleeves, he executed a short bow before stepping into the room. Long ago, before their rift, Siri would have snorted and made a derisive comment about how terrible it must be to be perfect.

But today, she simply met his gaze with a raised eyebrow – refusing to notice how long his Padawan braid had grown since she had last allowed herself to look at him – and waited for him to speak.

She was a little surprised when, instead of starting in with some pompous speech, he broke eye contact and started pacing along the wall, deep wrinkles appearing between his brows. After a few back-and-forth laps, he stopped and opened his mouth, as if to start speaking, but apparently changed his mind and went back to walking.

Siri just stared. With each step, she felt her shoulders tighten more and more until she wanted to scream. Just as she reached her breaking point, Obi-Wan walked to her and placed his hands on her shoulders. When he opened his mouth again, a torrent of words gushed out.

"Siri, I'm breaking our promise. And before you start yelling and protesting, just listen to me. We made that agreement when we were teenagers, and admittedly it has probably served us well. At that age, our bodies tend to rule over our minds, and I don't know that I would have been able to handle all the … tension between us. It was better to just cut things off. But now we are older, and I've realized that I've missed your friendship. I don't like walking around you as if you were surrounded by a force field, always having to avert my eyes in case they accidentally meet yours. I hate remembering your life day and not being able to acknowledge it. I hate it when I find myself in a jam and can't laugh at what you would be saying at that moment." He stopped to take a breath before continuing. "I've accepted the idea that we can never be together the way we want, and I'd like to think we can simply move past that and enjoy what we can of one another. I'd like to think we can be good friends again."

For several seconds, Siri looked down, saying nothing. It took every ounce of discipline she had to not erupt. When she felt she was under control, she lifted her head to find his blue eyes looking at her expectantly.

"I don't know." Her voice was barely above a whisper.

Obi-Wan's face fell and he brought his hands to his temples. "Why not? Give me a valid reason, and I will leave you alone."

"Well, for starters, you're a melodramatic sap." With that, Siri's controlled expression slipped and she doubled over laughing. "You should have seen yourself, with the Master Windu stern expression, wearing a hole in my floor. And the speech!" Her voice deepened, adopting his Core accent. "'I've accepted the idea that we can never be together the way we want.' A fine performance!" She brought her hands together in mock applause.

"I was nervous! You've always been a tough audience." He lifted his hand to brush his hair back, a move Siri found particularly funny since his spiky Padawan cut was too short to get in his face. She was pleased, though, to see his trademark mask of mild amusement slip over his face. Much better than the blank stare she had been treated to for some time now.

"Then stop putting on a show," she said lightly, gesturing toward the couch. "As you said, we're adults now. I'm not going to bite your head off."

"I hope not," he said as he sat down. "I have scars from the last time you sank your teeth into me. A rather unconventional way of getting out of that choke hold, I might add."

"It was a perfectly legal move and something a child could do." She settled into the couch, folding her hands in her lap. "It wasn't great for me, either. You were all sweaty and gross."

"Serves you right. You should be careful, though. Some species secrete poison through their skin."

"And others through their tongues."

"Not unlike yourself, I'm sure."

Siri couldn't suppress the grin that stole across her face. She felt as if a dormant part of her had reawakened. Of course, she would only have a short time to enjoy their renewed relationship, but she would guard every word, every look in her memory to get her through any rough patches to come. This, at least, was one regret she would not have to harbor while separated from her home and family.

Obi-Wan shifted. "I have something for you." From the folds of his cloak, he pulled out a long thin rectangular box made of polished dark wood.

Siri took the box and gave her companion a sidelong glance. "Awfully confident you'd get through to me, weren't you?"

"You could say that matter has been on my mind for a long time. A few months ago, I had a rather close encounter with – well, I don't know how to describe them – let's just say they make draigons look like womprats."

"Oh, you and your creatures. I'm sure you had them following you around like little pets before too long."

"Indeed, they were following me, but if I had let them catch up, I'm sure I would have been a snack." He shook his head. "When I was in the infirmary, I had a dream about you-"

"I hope it was a good one."

"It was. But I'm not going to tell you about it." The twinkle in his eyes made her smile. "Anyway, I decided it was foolish to go on trying to pretend we're acquaintances when we've been through so much together. With all the galaxy hopping we do, we really need friends who understand … our particular issues. So on a whim, I bought this for you."

"You really are long-winded, you know." Siri said, as she struggled to unhook the gold latch on the box.

Ignoring her words, Obi-Wan leaned over to help her with the latch. "Here, let me. Wouldn't want you to break a nail." Siri held her breath as the heat radiating from him warmed her face, but she still caught a whiff of his familiar scent. With a flick of his fingers, the latch was open and he settled back into place.

Ignoring her pounding heart, Siri lifted the lid of the box. Lying on a bed of red velvet was a thin silver blade, with a black handle that was inlaid with white jappor.

"It's actually an early gift for your elevation."

Siri popped up her head and gave him a hard stare. "Do you know something I don't?" He couldn't possibly be aware of her mission, could he? She already knew exactly when her knighting would take place, and it would not be a conventional one.

"Not really. I just have this feeling that I won't be seeing you again before it happens. Master Qui-Gon and I will be leaving in a few days on an extended mission." He removed the dagger from the case. "I even managed to have it engraved. You see, here are your initials, this space is for you to have the date put in later if you like. And on the other side is the Jedi emblem."

"It's beautiful," Siri was moved, more than she thought she could be.

"I thought you might like to have Master Gallia use it when she cuts off your braid. The standard is to use someone's lightsaber, but Master Qui-Gon says you can use whatever you want. I thought you would like to be different, and a metal blade seems as if it would be a little more visceral. It's up to you, of course. You could just use it as a secondary weapon…" his voice trailed off. "Thinking about it now, it does seem kind of silly, doesn't it? It's not easy to find a gift for a Jedi. Most things seem so frivolous. I tried to find a warming stone that was like the one you-"

She silenced him with a finger on his lips. "You're rambling again. The dagger is lovely, and it will cut off my braid when the time comes." She couldn't tell him that she would be the one to do the severing – and she would do it in seclusion before emerging as her new persona, Zora Valinor. Afterward, she would have to keep the blade concealed. The Jedi insignia was, unfortunately, very recognizable. She could claim she had taken it from a victim, she supposed, but she wouldn't want to taint the gift by being forced to use it to harm an innocent being, as she was sure she would have to do as a minion to a slave trader.

Obi-Wan took her hand from his face and smiled, saying, "I'm sorry. I suppose it's nerves. I've had this for a few weeks now, which is a long time to think about what your reaction would be."

"You worry too much."

"So I've been told."

He held onto her hand, and, against her better judgment, Siri didn't let go either, even as her fingers tingled at the contact. She watched his lips curve up into a soft smile, one she hadn't seen since before their self-exile from one another. She lifted her gaze to take in his blue-gray eyes and saw emotion rise to the surface. Before her own eyes could mirror that feeling, she stood up suddenly, ripping her hand out of his grasp.

"I have something for you, too."

"Really?" Obi-Wan's tone was wry. "Don't tell me you had premonitions of my visit."

"Well, no. I just-"

"Do you keep potential gifts on hand in case anyone comes around, then or are you planning to rummage through your quarters until you find something suitable?"

"Now you're just being crazy," she said, even though rummaging through her things was exactly what she'd intended to do. She couldn't let him leave without something from her. She didn't know how things would be between them if – when she returned to the Order. But for a time, it would seem as if she had abandoned the Jedi, and something in her knew that her life would never be the same afterward, whether or not she was successful. "There is something of mine that I want you to have, that's all."

As she started off toward her bedroom, inspiration struck and she turned toward the kitchenette instead. A minute later, when she had settled back on the couch, she held out the bottle she'd spied in her cabinet earlier.

"Do you know what this is?"

Obi-Wan took the bottle from her hand and swirled the liquid around. He looked up in awe. "Knights' brew. How did you get a hold of this?"

"I have my ways, and that's all you need to know," Siri said with a smirk. "I was saving it for myself, but I think you'll appreciate it more. If you know what it is, you must be aware that Padawans aren't allowed to drink it."

"And neither are Masters," he intoned, mesmerized by the violet concoction. "Supposedly it penetrates any training bond you might have, so only those with neither Master nor Padawan may imbibe."

Siri nodded. "You do know the stuff. But why am I surprised? You and your Master are notorious for your methods of 'seeking information.' It's a wonder you remember anything long enough for it to be useful."

Heat rose to his cheeks. "Him more than me, really."

"I'm sure. Anyway, this is for the day you are set loose upon the galaxy. Enjoy. And I expect you to be among friends when you sample it or I won't be responsible for the consequences. But I suppose I can trust Garen or Bant to keep you in line, not to mention the hundreds of others who I'm sure will turn out for your celebration."

"Hundreds? I don't have that many friends."

"Not just for you, you gundark. Getting another Padawan successfully through his trials will mean a lot for your Master, too."

"True." Obi-Wan furrowed his brow. "I hope I can make him proud."

"The great unflappable Obi-Wan, model Padawan, having doubts?"

"Model Padawan? You can't believe that. I've done some very foolish things."

"You don't have to tell me. I was just repeating what everyone else seems to think. Obviously, they just don't know you as well as I do."

"Obviously."

A beep interrupted their conversation. Both looked down to their utility belts.

"It's me," Obi-Wan said, pressing the button on his commlink.

Qui-Gon Jinn's rich voice filled the room. "Padawan, you must prepare to leave. Our mission has been scrapped, and we are being sent to Naboo to settle a dispute."

"Immediately?"

"We take off in 30 minutes. Meet me in the hangar."

"Yes, Master."

Obi-Wan looked up, his eyes filled with apology.

"You have to go." Siri stared at him, trying to memorize the angles of his face, the dimple in his chin, the exact shade of his eyes, the glint of gold that highlighted his reddish-brown hair.

"Yes. I'm sorry. I had hoped to at least get a sparring session in while we were both here."

"It has been too long since I've wiped the floor with you." Siri worked to keep her tone light. "Next time, then."

"I look forward to it." He put his hand on her shoulder. "I'm happy we were able to reconnect, at least. A large burden has been lifted."

"Yes," Siri whispered. Before reason or discipline could stop her, she threw herself into him, pressing her face into the crook of his neck and shoulder. After a second's delay, she felt his arms close around her. Perhaps it wasn't the wisest idea to allow herself this indulgence, but she knew that for the next several months, perhaps even years, there would be no one to comfort her. Now she would have this, at least.

And maybe more.

She tilted her head back so she could meet Obi-Wan's gaze. "Thank you," she murmured, while inhaling the scent that had been long imprinted in her mind. "For the dagger and for having the guts to make the first move."

"You're welcome."

"Now I need to ask one more favor."

"Go ahead."

"You see, somehow I know that the next time I see you, we will no longer have these," She took his braid in her fingers. "We'll have more responsibility and will have to act accordingly. But I wonder if you would mind being foolish Padawans for just one more moment before we let go."

She saw his eyes darken with confusion. "What exactly are you asking me to do?"

Siri rolled her eyes, releasing an exasperated sigh. "Kiss me, you idiot!"

"Oh, that." When she heard the wry humor in his voice, she relaxed and poked his ribs. "You're teasing me."

"It's too easy," he said, chucking her chin. His expression grew solemn. "You don't think it will hurt too much, do you?"

"It will. But it will feel real."

He nodded, then dipped his head and touched his lips to hers. The tentative, gentle contact gradually deepened into a full embrace – his fingers tangled in her hair, her tongue gently brushing against his – as both allowed themselves to be guided by their emotions. When the time came to break apart, they did so with hesitation and the painful longing that had been dormant for years.

"It hurts," she felt him whisper into her hair.

"Yes," she replied, savoring the sensation of needing and being needed. "But we'll be all right."

The Jedi, as you know, were regarded as the wisest beings in the galaxy. They have turned service and giving into an art, offering their smooth words, sharp blades and quiet strength wherever needed. And here I have lamely related to you the prosaic tale of two foolish Padawans in the Temple who most unwisely gave one another gifts that would be used not in celebration and camaraderie as intended, but instead in desolate solitude in their darkest hours.

Yet of all those who give gifts and make sacrifices, let it be said that these two are the wisest – not for what is in their heads, but what is in their hearts. Not for what they have, but what they do not possess. All who give and receive gifts as they do are the wisest. For, above all, they are Jedi.