Hello, everyone, and welcome to the last chapter of this short story. One last author's note from me to thank everyone for their support and feedback, and for reading. I hope this chapter is up to scratch, as always any advice and comments would be much appreciated. It's been wonderful to write about these characters I love so much. :)

CHAPTER THREE – A CONVERSATION

He's alive.

The thought keeps bursting inside my mind, as if my memory worries I'll forget if I'm not given frequent reminders. But I won't.

I knew, I think, from the moment he called me, knew that he was telling the truth. But I wanted to be sure, I needed to be sure. If I had been fooled once into thinking he was dead, then perhaps I could be fooled again into thinking he was alive. But any doubts I had vanished when I saw him in the flesh. I know him; the way he walks, the different gestures he makes and what they mean, the exact patterns of his voice when he speaks. I saw them and heard them in the hologram, but it wasn't enough until the man himself was in front of me.

I feel as if I have been given another chance. I'm not sure why. Things will never be different to how they are now. His life and mine, however strongly connected, will always be separate. You might say that him being dead would have made no difference.

But that would not be true, because it makes all the difference in the Galaxy. Even if we cannot be together, I still feel more alive, more like myself than ever when I am in his presence. It doesn't matter if we can never have more than this, these reserved conversations, respectful smiles, fleeting moments of warmth when we touch, all separated by months spent without seeing each other. I would not want to go without them. I am glad he came back into my life at the rise of Death Watch. I will never forget that this man taught me how to love.

So this is what I have been given, by him not having died. I have been given more time to experience, savour and remember these moments. And I have been given a chance to speak to him, without anyone else around for whom we might have to put up pretences, without anything in his code or mine preventing us from being honest. I know it might be just this once, and so I will try to say everything that must be said here and now. I must make the most of this second chance.

Which might be difficult, because I don't have the slightest idea what to say.

For now, I'm happy that I'm more composed than I was five minutes ago. And the silence between us, while somewhat expectant, is comfortable. I have offered him a drink, which he politely declined, and we are seated side by side on a sofa from where we can watch the Coruscant night falling, the darkness slowly creeping down the sides of the skyscrapers, dulling the gleam of the darting speeders. He is watching me with a patient, concerned expression, and I am studying my hands so as to avoid having to look at him until I have worked out what I'm going to say, and how I feel.

I don't believe I am angry with him, or the Jedi, for having deceived me. It was of course not meant personally, and it seems that it saved the Chancellor. And it was a courageous thing to do. I don't know all the details, but I don't need to, and I sense that he doesn't want to talk about it, at least not at this minute.

And to be honest, my relief at finding him alive far outweighs my frustration that all my depression over the last few days has been for nothing. Except it wasn't for nothing. It helped me see things clearly. And it led us to this conversation we are yet to have, which may make things clearer still.

Yes. Despite everything, I am happy. It isn't a fierce, bright feeling, more a sort of gentle, almost subconscious contentment. It's so good to finally be able to register my emotions, to feel something other than that terrible emptiness.

And this thought leads to another, which I would never normally say out loud. But I have promised him I will speak my mind. No reservations. One of us needs to start this conversation, and I think it has to be me.

'It's funny,' I tell him, looking up from my hands at last. 'Nothing has ever affected me like this before. I'm used to not letting pain damage me too much.'

He frowns. 'I assume you mean emotional pain.'

'Of course. I've lost family. I've misjudged many of the people I trusted. I've gone without sleep for weeks trying to find ways to stop the corruption and insurgency on Mandalore and I've never entirely succeeded. But when I was told you were dead…'

This isn't as easy as I'd thought it might be. Now he's the one to look at his hands. I can see that no response is forthcoming.

'Why is it I can withstand all the difficulties of governing a planet, and yet when faced with this - ?' I can't think of the right words to end the sentence, but there's no need; we both know what I meant.

'Because you're a remarkably strong person,' he answers. 'But to lose someone you care about, to recover from it… that takes a different kind of strength.'

'Strong?' I echo. 'Interesting choice of words.'

He looks surprised. 'Why is it? You withstood a war and some very powerful opposition to rebuild your world. Any other person would have lost faith long ago.'

'Determined, maybe. But really, I think I first embarked on this path because no one else was willing to do what needed to be done.'

'To hold on to that determination took strength.'

All right, we're not here to examine semantics. 'Which is partly the reason behind my distress, as you call it. These last days, I have been… less than who I am. I found myself less able to care about things that would normally mean the Galaxy to me. I wasn't fully focused on my duties, and that made me feel even worse.'

'I felt the same after Qui-Gon was killed. Not like myself.' He sighs. 'It's a normal thing to feel.'

'Well, that much is clear. But even if I'm not a Jedi, I know it's something that needs to be resisted, if it clouds your judgement in such a way.'

'Yes, and that's part of the reason why the Jedi Code forbids attachment. To value one person so much that to lose them would make you forget the things that normally define your life – that could be dangerous. There are frightening numbers of Jedi on record who fell to the Dark Side after the loss of someone they cared about.'

There's another message in his words, an explanation, I think. He's telling me why he himself may make no attachments. But he doesn't need to do this. I have never held this against him.

'I understand why it's forbidden,' I tell him. 'I'll never question that. And I understand why the Code, and the Jedi, are so important to you.' For a few seconds, I hesitate, uncertain if I can summon the nerve to say what I want to now, but then I remind myself what the point of this entire conversation is. 'That's why, no matter what my feelings were, I did not ask you to stay with me after that year we spent together. I did not want to force such a choice upon you. And I do not intend to.'

There's a short silence, and I realise that despite my resolve, I have disguised the true meaning of my words. And I can see that Obi-Wan has noticed this too.

'I thought you said we'd be speaking our minds here,' he says, with one of those infuriating teasing smiles.

'I'm trying. It's not all that easy.'

'Yes, there's no need to tell me that.'

'I should think you know me well enough to know my meaning, even if I have trouble voicing my thoughts directly.'

'I believe so.' He swallows and turns his gaze to the window. 'What you're saying is that I don't need to fear you asking me to leave the Jedi.'

Which is as good as him saying that he never would. And that's all right. I already knew that.

'I know that it would be more than you could bear to lose,' I say carefully. 'I know Jedi can't form attachments, but you're not forbidden to love. And I know you love your way of life, because it is the only one for you. I know that you love your fellow Jedi, in particular your former Padawan. I know that you love being able to make a difference in this Galaxy.'

He dips his head, indicating that I'm right. 'It's good to know that by living, I have brought help to others.'

'And that is why you would never leave the order, and why I would never ask you to.'

The statement is blunt, perhaps, but I think it's accurate. He seems startled at my frankness, but to my surprise he responds by placing one hand on top of mine.

'And I'm grateful for that,' he says.

'And why is that?' The words come before I can stop them – I think perhaps I'm getting into the hang of this not-putting-on-pretences thing. Maybe a little too much.

He stares at me for a moment, and then looks away.

Why, Obi-Wan? I almost say the words out loud, but something stops me, so I whisper them in my mind instead. Why are you glad I have never asked? Is it because you would not want to hurt me by refusing, or because you don't know what you would choose?

I wish I could be sure about his feelings for me. He loved me once, a long time ago, I am sure of that. And he certainly cares about me enough now to have protected me from Death Watch, and from the plots of the Separatists, to have risked his life and his position to come to my aid when I was a fugitive from the law. But that doesn't equate to love.

'You know I would never normally say any of this,' I remind him.

He looks amused. 'Funny. You seemed perfectly willing to say it much more directly in front of Tal Merrik.'

I wave my hand. 'That was different; I was fairly convinced I was about to die. I suppose all I need to do to be able to say all of this, then, is to have someone pointing a blaster at my head.'

'I have a lightsabre,' he suggests.

That teasing smile again. And I can't stop myself from smiling too. 'I'm sure there's no need for drastic measures. I'll use my imagination.'

This, of course, hurls my memory back in time to when that happened, to when I was in Merrik's grip and at his mercy. I imagine his arm clamped around my neck, and picture the corridors of the Coronet, and force the words into my mouth.

'You told me on board the Coronet that you would have left your life as a Jedi for me, if I had asked you to,' I begin, speaking slowly so that I can think through every individual world. 'But I don't think you would do that now. Not for me, not for anyone. You've lived too long in a life you love, you've invested too much of your soul into it. And I know how that feels. I wouldn't give up the throne of Mandalore for anyone or anything. My people need me. And, as a Jedi, your people are the Galaxy's people, and they need you.'

I pause for breath, but don't give him time to respond. 'You worry for my safety, even if I attempt to stop you. You help me and defend me whenever you can. You've put your life on the line for me. It's… it's simply hard to know whether you do this because there was once a time when you loved me, or because that time is still now. Do I need you to feel for me the way I feel for you? No. Do I want you to? Even I can't answer that. Perhaps it would be better of me to not want you to, since then you would be able to devote yourself fully to your cause without anything that might even tempt you to break your code. I know I should want that. Maybe it's selfish of me to even wish things could be different…'

I get no further. Partly because all of this has come out in something of a rush, and now I really do quite need to breathe. Partly because my courage suddenly runs out, and I find myself wondering how I could ever have brought myself to say all of this. And partly because Obi-Wan has, while I've been speaking, taken my hand in his and placed his other hand on my shoulder. I stop, feeling a shudder run through me, and wait for whatever it is he will say next.

'I wish that too.'

Well, I wasn't expecting that.

I wait for a moment, running his words through my head again to make sure I didn't mishear. I have a feeling he's about to explain, and he does.

'By which I mean, I wish the Galaxy wasn't the way it is, that it could be possible for Jedi to form attachments – ' He stops abruptly, closes his eyes, and draws in a deep breath. 'To fall in love, without neglecting their duties or risking those around them. I wish it were possible, for me and for everyone else. But it isn't. The way things are, we have to choose one life or the other. At least, I know I could never have both while staying true to myself. And when it comes to the choice…'

'The Galaxy comes first,' I finish for him. 'Your order comes first. I... admire that.'

He tilts his head. 'I thought you disapproved of the Jedi.'

'I disapprove of your way of life. That's no surprise to you, I'm sure. It seems to me that it's impossible for anyone to call themselves a peacekeeper and yet to live a life of violence.' I pause here, but hold up a hand to indicate that I haven't finished speaking; I know this is the point where we usually descend into argument, or at the very least debate, and I'd prefer to avoid that right now. Again, I choose my words carefully as I go on. 'I'm not sure I can ever fully trust the Senate that almost enforced an unnecessary occupation on my planet. Maybe I can't trust the entire Republic government. But I do have faith in the Republic itself, in the ideals it represents. And as for the Jedi as individuals, I can never deny your bravery, your wisdom. Your selflessness. That goes for all Jedi, but especially for you.'

He listens intently, but makes no comment until I end up complimenting him, whereon he instantly demonstrates why he's both the most frustrating and the most genuinely good person I have ever known. 'Well, that's hardly true. I don't have half the courage of Mace Windu, nor a quarter of Master Yoda's wisdom – '

'Oh, yes. I should have mentioned your inescapable modesty.'

He chuckles, and I feel the corners of my mouth twitch into a smile.

How peculiar that now should be the time when we are finally able to discuss this without a trace of hostility, without our usual attempts to force our ideas upon each other. I suppose it's because for once I have detached myself from the usual demands of my position. Or maybe it's not. Maybe it's because, after coming so close to losing Obi-Wan, I have finally realised just how unimportant our disagreements are.

'So.' Obi-Wan removes his hand from my shoulder – I'd forgotten it was still there - and gives his beard a stroke. 'Your issue with us is not so much with our actions, as with how we label ourselves peacekeepers but act like soldiers.'

'That's not entirely it. You know I disapprove of all violence. But certainly, it seems to me that you have grown… or decayed, from peacekeepers to soldiers. If this war ends, how can the rest of us be certain that you will return to your previous ways?'

At any other time I think he would give this a sharp retort, but he must feel the same way as I do about this situation, because he watches me closely as I speak, inclines his head when I have finished, and sits back, his beard-stroking becoming more determined. I think I understand now why he grew it – nothing says 'distinguished and deep-thinking' like a Jedi stroking his beard.

'I can't speak on behalf of the whole order,' he says. 'But I can tell you – in fact, I can promise you – that the greatest wish of every Jedi I know is to see this war over so things can go back to the way they used to be.'

I find I believe him. I have only ever properly met four Jedi - namely Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan, Anakin and Ahsoka. As they are a chain of masters and apprentices, it makes sense that they would all share similar views, and so I cannot make any assumptions on the rest of the order based on what I know of these four. But Obi-Wan is an honest man. If he says the Jedi will abandon their places as generals and commanders once the war is over, I believe him.

If it's ever over.

'I still think this could all have been solved with readier negotiations from both parties before it ever began,' I say. 'But now it's here… whatever I think about your role in starting and prolonging it, I do respect the extent to which you risk your lives to protect others. I don't think I can ever call you peacekeepers, but I know peace is your aim.'

He smiles. 'And I respect you for being brave enough not to fight. Whether or not the term peacekeeper can be applied to me, you are something far better –a peacemaker.'

'So I make something for you to fight for, is that right?'

'No. You make something that's worth fighting for.'

'Is it all those years deflecting blaster bolts that have made you so skilled at deflecting any comment I make?'

'Oh, it's just my natural wit.'

'I take back what I said about the modesty.'

The comfortable silence descends again, until he sighs softly and bows his head. 'And now suppose it's my turn.'

'Your turn?'

He lifts his hands slightly; the nearest, apparently, that he can come to what he'd consider such an uncivilised gesture as a shrug. 'Well, you were honest with me. I suppose I should be equally honest with you.'

'You've been honest.'

'Not quite to the same extent as you.'

He rises, and crosses the room to the window, folding his hands in front of him and bowing his head. He stands there, resembling nothing so much as one of the statues outside the Jedi Temple, until I go to join him.

'You don't have to say anything you don't feel comfortable saying,' I assure him.

'It's not that I don't want to say it, it's just that it's a little hard to find the right words.' He gives me a wry look. 'And if I didn't say it, it would defeat the entire purpose of the exercise, wouldn't it?'

Despite the light-hearted way in which he says this last part, I know him well enough to spot the shadow of uncertainty in his eyes. 'Obi, if it helps at all, you don't need to worry about offending me. At least, I don't think you do.'

He gives one of his amused head-shakes. 'We'll just have to wait until I say something offensive, then, and see what happens.'

I decide to remain silent for a while, to let him think. His eyes flick back and forth, following the speeders. Night has properly fallen now.

'It's a common misconception that members of the order are forbidden to love,' he says at last. 'But that, as you said, isn't true. And, well, it just wouldn't be possible. Being Force-sensitive doesn't stop us from being people. These feelings, they happen, no matter what position in life someone holds. And they're not a bad thing. What kind of carers for the Galaxy would we make if we didn't understand love? We'd be an order of… fairly cold people, to say the least.'

He watches the lights of Coruscant shutting out one by one for a few more seconds, then carries on. 'But of course, we're raised from infancy to resist clouding our judgement with emotions. So sometimes, it can be hard to show what we feel. And of course, it's safer for everyone if we don't.'

He rubs his forehead. 'To put it simply, Satine, I… still have these feelings, as much as I did when we were younger. I don't regret ever having had them. I've learned much from them… and you. I am not ashamed. I am saddened that things must be this way, but at the same time, I'm glad.'

And so this is it. The closest, now, that I can ever come to hearing Obi-Wan saying he loves me. And it's enough. It's more than enough. It brings a wide and genuine smile to my face at last, and I feel the last of the emptiness vanish in the wake of a wave of joy.

'You know that, as a Jedi, I can't, I won't…' He gestures vaguely. 'You know what I mean. Feelings are not forbidden; in fact, I'd call them beneficial. The same can't be said for attachment. It leads to jealousy, to favouritism, to caring for different people above others… and for a Jedi, those are dangerous things indeed.'

He turns to face me. 'I've often said, both to you and to myself, that we are friends. But I promised you I'd try to speak my mind here, and I will. The truth is that you mean more than that to me. But I can't act as if you are, because to do so would…'

'It would make you into someone you're not,' I finish. 'Don't, Obi-Wan. I don't want you to do that to yourself.'

The sudden understanding between us as we gaze at each other is so fierce and strong I can almost see it. There's a dryness in my throat and an aching pain in my heart, because I know what it is we have, in our own, roundabout way, agreed – that we can never be together and at the same time still be ourselves. And yet that quiet happiness remains, because this truly is enough for me. To love him, to know he loves me, and to show it only in moments like this. It will not be shown in any words spoken aloud, or in any actions we make. That is not how things can be for us.

It will be shown in what we do. It will be shown in the way we turn to each other for help and always receive it, without needing to give anything in return. The way we trust each other and believe each other when no one else around us can be depended on. The way that I will lead my people using the lessons I learned from him, and the way I know he will return to the front lines with my desire for peace in his heart.

That will be how we show our love, even if we can never act on our feelings as other people can. I don't need more than this. In fact, it's better this way. If he chose to break his code for my sake, he would not be himself. He would not be Obi-Wan, the only person I have ever loved, the only one I ever will love.

It won't be a challenge for us to do this, because it comes naturally. It is who we are. It can be hard to see beneath the barbed comments, the arguments, the self-righteousness and defensiveness. But it's always there, and when it matters most, everything that hides it is forgotten.

The emptiness is gone. I can feel again. And what I feel now is peace.

How strange this is, that it should take something this extreme for me to really look at things the way they are. That I should have to die and become another man, live in his skin, and then return to myself, to really know the way I feel.

It's helped. My thoughts are clearer, and I think hers are too. Maybe I should die more often.

We spend the next ten minutes or so making much lighter and more normal conversation. She gives me the latest news from Mandalore, and informs me (with no small amount of frustration) about the recent failed peace negotiations that brought her to Coruscant in the first place. And I tell her as much as I can about the details of my mission. When I reach the part about how I have only just regained my own face, she tilts her head quizzically. 'So this bounty hunter, this… Hardeen person, has exactly your hair and beard?'

'Oh, no, I've just had it grown back. Droid nanosurgery. And before you ask, no, I couldn't have left the beard. I like it.'

'There's room for two opinions about that beard.'

'I'd never dream of suggesting that you should have any opinion other than your own. Even if I did, I wouldn't get anywhere.'

'And what exactly are you implying?'

'Only that you are utterly your own person, my dear.'

It's odd how easily I call her that, and always have. I've never given it much thought before now. It's a term I've almost teased her with, but in truth, she is dear to me.

'Surely it hasn't taken you this long to work that out.' She glances at the chronometer. 'I don't think I should keep you much longer.'

'Yes, I probably should be going.' It will take some time for me to get back to the Temple. And I've been considering not going back for a little while. Maybe I will visit a few more friends – Bail Organa, or Padmé. It would be good to see them again. While it's late, they should probably still be awake. I have missed talking to people other than that band of bounty hunters. And even if they're not awake, maybe I will just wander around the city for a while. I feel… not restless, exactly, but not wanting rest.

Satine leads me over to the door. 'I'm sorry to have dragged you out here at such an hour.'

'No, I'm glad I came.' The coolness of the night air as the door opens presses against my face. 'Speaking to you was actually quite therapeutic. Never pretend to be a bounty hunter, it's… de-personifying. Not to mention uncivilised.'

'A grave crime indeed.' She rolls her eyes, but she's smiling again. 'Well, if nothing else, this has helped us to feel like ourselves again.'

'There is that.' I take a step across the threshold, then turn back. 'Will you be all right?'

'I'll be fine. Much better than I have been. Just so long as the Senate gets around to actually making a sensible decision some time soon.' She's silent for a moment; then she looks directly into my eyes. 'Obi-Wan…'

'Satine?'

'I'm more glad you're alive than I can possibly say.'

Of course she is glad. She thought she had lost me, and it hurt her. It would hurt me to lose her, too.

But this cold thought cannot linger in my mind for long. It's funny how words can warm the heart. All that time, worrying I would become the mask I wore, the bounty hunter, the Jedi-killer, feeling removed from who I was. Hearing this, her acceptance of me… it makes me feel like she, at least is certain of who I am. And so I too feel more certain.

And... is it wrong, that I should be glad she loves me? That there is still time for us to share our lives, for me to treasure his happiness I feel with her, even if it is only in this separated way? I don't think it is. The Code is right. Attachment can lead to suffering. But love itself? No, love can never be wrong.

'Yes, I say. 'I'm quite glad, too.'

I dip my head to her – the Jedi to the Duchess. 'Goodbye, Satine.'

She returns my gesture, her face that of the planetary ruler again – serious, composed, and yet with a gentleness that so many other people would never see. 'Until we meet again, Obi-Wan.'

It's not easy, to turn my back and leave her. It never is. But I have turned my back on many paths that might have been right for me, in order the follow the one that's right for the Galaxy.

The lights of Coruscant blaze around me. This side of the planet will be in shadow soon, its people asleep. These people don't care about the difficult choices I have to make. They care about me protecting them. So I will. It doesn't matter if it hurts me, because it spares them pain.

Yes, it hurts that I had to choose between Satine and the Jedi. But it's true, what I said. I will never regret having these feelings for her. She has taught me so much. About life, about love, about myself.

And as a Jedi, I'm always ready to learn.