"Epicenter"
Rating: R
After Obi-Wan strays on Kamino, he makes his confession to Bail.
Obi-Wan knew he shouldn't let his apprentice return to Naboo with the young Senator. Something had changed between the two of them - on Naboo, on Tatooine, maybe on Geonosis. Obi-Wan didn't know, and right now he didn't particularly care. Anakin was different now, a man not a boy, but Obi-Wan wasn't sure the change was a result of maturity. Something had hardened within his padawan, and he had not had time to discern yet whether it was a solidifying or a petrification. Padme's newfound interest in the youth, a kind of fierce protectiveness, only further alarmed Obi-Wan, and he did not trust what the two of them might do when they were alone together on Naboo.
Obi-Wan did not trust it, and yet he let them go, because the simple truth was that he was weary - they all were - exhausted in heart and mind, but especially in soul. The events of the past few weeks had taken a severe toll on all three, and they needed rest and comfort. Padme and Anakin would find their comfort in each other, and he could not find it in his heart to deny them that, not when he needed comforting, too.
Jedi Knights by nature of their calling were often present during significant events that changed history, but usually the history of only a planet or two at a time. Rarely in this ancient, timeless galaxy did anyone feel as if they had lived through galactic change, yet Obi-Wan knew he had - had been in the very center of it, standing on the fulcrum as something tipped in the galaxy, as the light faded and the darkness gained ascendance. Too many monstrosities: the depth of the conspiracy he had uncovered on Kamino, a mystery still not fully revealed; the shock of the clone army; the huge battle on Geonosis, and so many Jedi killed at one time. Almost eighty! There had not been such a brutal massacre of Jedi in over a thousand years. Obi-Wan's own brush with death paled in comparison. And on top of it all was the horrible appearance of his master's master, Count Dooku with his lies, Qui-Gon's name on his lips like blasphemy. It troubled Obi-Wan deeply, what he had said about the corruption in the Senate, about the Sith Lord, about what Qui-Gon would have done if he were alive....
No. He would not even allow such thoughts to enter his mind. It was all too much - too much death, too much betrayal, too much change, too much horror. The mere thought of it left Obi-Wan sick, ill, weak, trembling. And at the heart of it all lay his own betrayal, a very personal, private one. Next to all the other perfidy it was nothing, and the one other person in the galaxy who knew of it was now dead. Obi-Wan's little violation of trust was easily lost among the greater tragedies which the galaxy was now beginning to suffer, and he should just forget about it, put it out of his mind, but instead he focused on it, nursed the memory possessively, perhaps because it was the one thing in all this mess he felt he had any control over.
And maybe he also wanted to be punished. If he confessed his guilt, then some tiny part of his soul could be cleansed, and right now he needed to be washed, purified however imperfectly.
So he turned to his own source of comfort, seeking out the man who he knew would always welcome him no matter what happened. Late at night, when most other beings in that quadrant were asleep, he showed up without announcement on Bail Organa's doorstep. The Prince admitted him without a word, without surprise, as if he had been expecting the Jedi. Dark circles of exhaustion ringed Bail's eyes, and he looked as if he had not slept in days. In the background, Obi-Wan could hear a voice arguing heatedly in the living room, and he whispered, "If now is not a good time...."
"Come on in," Bail offered. "I'm just on the comm."
As they entered the living room, the voice on the vidscreen continued, "I understand your distrust of the Chancellor, Bail, but it needed to be done. You know perfectly well the Senate would never have acted in time."
Bail nodded toward the couch, indicating that Obi-Wan should make himself comfortable, while he resumed his seat at the vidscreen. "I know that, Garm," he said. "I'm just saying I think we solved one problem by creating another one, and I'm not sure we even really solved the first problem at all. You saw that army, Garm. It's an outrage!"
"You need to get over your anti-clone prejudice, Bail."
"I'm not anti-clone, I'm anti-cloning," Bail snapped, rubbing wearily at his eyes. "They are sentient beings, not droids, and we are using them. What vote do they have in the Republic? What choice do they have to serve it?"
"I've heard all this before, and in principle I agree with you. But we find ourselves in this situation, and there is nothing else we can do. The Republic needs that army."
Bail slumped back into his chair, staring blankly at the screen, and Obi-Wan didn't think he had ever seen the Prince so disheartened. "I know," he murmured, almost to himself. "But what price are we paying for it?"
The Senator he was talking to, whom Obi-Wan recognized as Garm Bel Iblis of Corellia, did not answer. Instead, he asked, "Who was that that came in just now?"
Bail flashed Obi-Wan a quick smile before turning back to the vidscreen. "Obi-Wan Kenobi, the Jedi who found that army and uncovered Dooku's plot."
Bel Iblis' image nodded in curt recognition. "Good work, Jedi Kenobi. Well, Bail, I guess this means you have another conference, and we certainly aren't getting anywhere with this discussion."
"No," Bail agreed, "but we need to keep having it. You may not believe it, but I do value your insight on this matter."
The Corellian Senator's lips quirked in a wry smile. "You're right, I don't believe it, any more than you will believe I appreciate your stiff-necked idealism. I know we'll pick this conversation up later. In the meantime, try not to let that Jedi keep you up all night. You need some sleep, Senator."
"So do you, Senator," Bail tossed back. "Good night." Bail switched off the comm, then sagged back into his chair with a deep groan. "I am so exhausted, I want to crawl into a cave somewhere and hibernate for the next six months."
"Sounds like an excellent plan," Obi-Wan quipped.
Draping his arm over the back of his chair, Bail turned to smirk at him. "You heard my esteemed colleague. You're not supposed to keep me up all night discussing politics."
"I may keep you up all night, but I never discuss politics."
Bail grinned wickedly, "True enough." He stood, stretching widely to work out all the kinks that seemed to have permanently lodged in his joints, then plopped down on the couch next to Obi-Wan, resting his head on the Jedi's shoulder. "It's hard to believe this is the first time I've seen you since this whole mess started." Abruptly he sat up, belated concern troubling his features. "Are you all right? I was there in the Chancellor's office when he received your transmission from Geonosis." When that droideka had marched into the holotransmission, Bail's heart had stopped in fear, but events had unfolded too quickly, and in truth he had not had time to worry about Obi-Wan. Only now, in retrospect, could he chide himself for neglecting his concern for the Jedi.
"I'm quite recovered," Obi-Wan assured him, raising his hand and gently brushing his fingers down the side of Bail's face.
For a long moment, Bail simply returned his gaze, staring deeply into Obi-Wan's eyes as if searching for something, some answer or assurance. But Obi-Wan had none to offer, searching as he was for answers and assurances as well - answers and assurances that even Yoda no longer had to give.
At last Bail said, "Things have changed, Ben. I'm frightened. Truly frightened."
Obi-Wan couldn't bear the fear and uncertainty in Bail's eyes, and he pulled the Prince close to him so he wouldn't have to see that look anymore. "I am, too."
Another very long moment, stretching into minutes of silence. It felt so good to sit there like that, wrapped in each other, no talking or thinking, putting all their worries aside. They were both so tired, and Obi-Wan wanted to stay like this, to curl up on the couch in Bail's arms and just sleep, hibernate as the Prince had said. He was sorely tempted not to bring up what he had come to discuss. Bail was burdened with plenty of worries of his own, and Obi-Wan didn't really need to add one more worry to the pile, did he? There were a hundred reasons why he should say nothing, just let it go. It didn't really matter what he'd done on Kamino, and no one ever needed to know. Yet that need to confess remained, and Obi-Wan realized that if he didn't tell Bail now, he never would, and that secret betrayal would open up a rift between them, a rift they would never again have time to mend. He could not allow that to happen.
"Something happened on Kamino," he began.
"Well, I know that," Bail said dryly, shifting in Obi-Wan's arms.
"No, I mean --." He hesitated, not sure how to say it. "While I was there, I...did something."
Bail tilted his head back, gazing up at him quizzically. "Something?"
"I...I slept with someone."
Dark brows furrowed slightly, but other than that Bail showed no reaction. "You slept with someone," he repeated as if trying to make it clear. "On Kamino." Obi-Wan only nodded. Bail pondered this a moment, then said, "Correct me if I'm wrong, but weren't you sent there to find Padme's would-be assassin?"
"Yes."
"Isn't that where you found the clone army?"
"Yes."
"And that's where you slept with someone? While you were on a mission on behalf of the Senate?"
"Yes."
Not entirely to Obi-Wan's surprise, Bail began to laugh. "Force help me, Ben! Leave it to you to have an affair in the most unlikely of circumstances!" Bail giggled uncontrollably. He realized that he ought to feel at least somewhat betrayed, but the whole situation simply struck him as outrageously funny. The Republic was on the verge of collapse, and Obi-Wan - at the center of it all, no less - took the time out to get laid. It was all so out of character, so unexpected and bizarre. In the face of everything that had happened lately it was so unimportant, and yet this is what Obi-Wan had come here to tell him?
That thought somehow sobered him up a bit. "You're serious?"
"Yes," came Obi-Wan's simple reply.
These one word confirmations were going to drive Bail insane, and he realized that sometime in the future, when this immanent war was over, when they had stopped whatever machinations Palpatine was apparently conspiring, maybe in five or ten years he would probably be upset. But right now he was too worn out and overwhelmed to muster up much outrage. "Why are you telling me this? Are you dumping me?"
"Absolutely not!" Obi-Wan protested, finally demonstrating some emotion. "It was a one-time thing."
All the more absurd, and again Bail struggled not to give in to hysteria. "Are the Kaminoans that irresistible? I know nothing about them."
"It wasn't a Kaminoan."
A sudden chill gripped Bail. Obi-Wan couldn't mean - not a clone? For some reason Bail found the notion vile, disgusting. But who else would have been on Kamino? "Then who--?"
Obi-Wan looked away, acutely uncomfortable. "It was...the bounty hunter I was tracking." He sighed heavily. "Jango Fett."
Now a different kind of chill coursed through Bail. What in all the heavens would possess Obi-Wan, whom Bail knew never to have cheated on him before, to suddenly decide to sleep with a bounty hunter of all people, the very one he had been sent to Kamino to find? At last he grew concerned, but not so much for himself as for Obi-Wan. "Have you gone completely mad?"
Obi-Wan bit his lip, avoiding Bail's gaze. "I, and all the rest of the galaxy."
Well, Bail couldn't exactly argue with that. He settled down again on the couch, his arm laced through Obi-Wan's, considering this revelation, wondering at its implications. Maybe this little affair wasn't so irrelevant after all. "Tell me what happened, Ben."
With a sigh, Obi-Wan retreated into memory, relieved that he could finally share this burden. "I had no idea what I had gotten myself into when I arrived on Kamino...."
Everywhere he looked, there were endless rows of identical faces, faces in all stages of development, but identical just the same: adults, teenagers, small children, infants, and worst of all, embryos, floating in sterile jars like scientific specimens, removed even from the comfort of a mother's womb. And they were all the same. Hundreds of them, thousands -- hundreds of thousands. All together over one million of them. One million living, sentient beings, all with the same face, lined up neatly like units on a rack, and isn't that what Lama Su had called them? "Units." "The product." Artificially created sentient beings, bred to decrease their independence but retain the ability to think creatively, programmed and trained to kill, to be the perfect military troops, without conscience or will to deter them, ready to fight whatever war their purchaser desired.
And their purchaser had been a Jedi.
Shock gave way to betrayal and deep disgust the more Obi-Wan saw of the clone factory. Even the cleanliness and sterility of the facility revolted him. What he saw was a mockery of life, a gross parody. Yet the greatest crime was that these were all sentient beings, however warped and perverted. This was slavery in its most vile form. And the Kaminoans had wanted a Jedi for a host.
Unwanted images filled Obi-Wan's mind of a million Qui-Gons, a million Anakins - a million Obi-Wans, and he squeezed his eyes shut, fighting not to lose all self-control, not to break down in outraged horror at the Kaminoans.
He stood on a balcony, flanked by Lama Su and Taun We, looking down at the parade grounds, where endless clones, dressed in full body armor marched and drilled in perfect unison. An army for a Republic that had never known war. Commissioned ten years ago. By a Jedi Master.
Obi-Wan could have wept.
"I would very much like to meet this Jango Fett," Obi-Wan said, and the Kaminoans, perfectly accommodating and gracious, like salespeople trying to impress a client, agreed to his request. Taun We escorted him to a small apartment, and the door opened upon a young boy, one whose face Obi-Wan was already quite familiar with: the bounty hunter's cloned son. Yet this boy was different from the others he had seen, lined up at their computers like drones chained to their desks. This boy's dark eyes were lively and intelligent, and they shone with distinct displeasure at the sight of Obi-Wan. The Jedi felt strangely relieved to encounter a genuine human emotion in the midst of this sterile, heartless city.
"Boba," Taun We greeted him in her deceptively mellifluous voice, "is your father home?"
Boba Fett gazed up at Obi-Wan, wrinkling his nose as if the Jedi had brought a foul stench with him. "Yep," he affirmed.
"May we see him?"
With a curt nod, Boba said, "Sure." He turned on his heel, leading them into the apartment, and called, "Dad! Taun We's here!"
While they waited for Fett to appear, Obi-Wan quickly scanned the room. It was as sanitized and lifeless as everything else Obi-Wan had seen, hardly like a home. But perhaps Fett wasn't here often. A bounty hunter probably traveled as frequently as a Jedi Knight did.
A door in the hallway opened, and Jango Fett walked into the main room. Obi-Wan recognized him as easily as he had the boy, but Jango's face was even more different from the clones, marked and scarred by a lifetime of experience, a face shaped by all the bounty hunter had seen and done. If the clones were a blank page, Jango's face was a book, each scar telling a story, and Obi-Wan found himself wanting to read them all, intrigued by the life evinced in that face, the face that had been hidden behind a mask on Coruscant. Obi-Wan realized he had no proof that this was the same man. He did not know what Jango's true role was in all this, either the clone army or the assassination attempt against Padme. He had come here to solve a mystery only to discover even greater ones. But in the midst of the impersonal brutality of the clone factory, perhaps Jango Fett - alive and human - was exactly what Obi-Wan needed to find.
Taun We and the bounty hunter engaged in idle chit-chat, which some corner of Obi-Wan's mind dutifully registered. Throughout it all, Fett regarded Obi-Wan with all the casual thoroughness of a Jedi, as intrigued with Obi-Wan as Obi-Wan was with him. And the interest was not entirely impersonal.
"This is Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi," Taun We introduced him. "He's come to check on our progress."
Without expression, Fett asked, "That right?"
Jango knew perfectly well Obi-Wan had not come here for the clones. This was a game between the two of them, how they could each take the measure of the other without revealing anything to Taun We and Boba. "Your clones are very impressive," Obi-Wan observed. As was their original. Let Jango interpret that however he wanted. "You must be very proud."
"I'm just a simple man trying to make my way in the universe."
Oh, this was good. Fett knew Obi-Wan wouldn't buy that line. He was teasing him. Obi-Wan's expression remained carefully neutral, but his eyes sparkled in a hint of amusement. "Aren't we all?" he quietly agreed.
They were not so dissimilar, he and Jango Fett. They were both warriors, both hunters - and right now, both the quarry. In the midst of the surreal horror that was Tipoca City, Obi-Wan found something familiar, recognized himself in the man standing before him. A solitary warrior, few if any ties to anyone outside his profession, a well-worn galactic traveler, his services at the disposal of those who hired him, though no doubt the Senate made for a more prestigious employer than a bounty hunter's. They were not so dissimilar at all.
Jango quirked a dark eyebrow at him. "Do you like your army?"
His army? It was certainly not his army, as Fett well knew. No, Obi-Wan couldn't possibly misinterpret that hidden message.
"I look forward to seeing them in action," Obi-Wan replied archly.
"They'll do their job well. I'll guarantee that," Fett assured him, with a grin like a malia stalking its prey.
But Obi-Wan had dealt with malia before. "Like their source?"
Jango Fett only smiled.
That smile shot straight to Obi-Wan's groin. His arousal startled him. He was enjoying this far too much. He had a job to do, and this man was a potential enemy. He needed to report back to the Council, needed to receive orders about what to do next, needed to check in with his padawan, needed.... Needed a warm touch to penetrate the layers of shock that had chilled his body and numbed his soul. Needed to be reminded that he was not himself a drone, a mindless automaton at the beck and call of a bloated and corrupt Senate. Needed to be reminded that he was human.
But there was no time for any of that. Forcing his mind back to his duty, Obi-Wan bowed slightly. "Thanks for your time, Jango." /And thank you for the challenge./
"Always a pleasure to meet a Jedi," Fett replied, not bowing, his eyes searing into Obi-Wan's in threat...or invitation.
Reluctantly, Obi-Wan started to go, but Jango offered, "A drink before you leave?"
Obi-Wan did not hesitate, turning back to face the bounty hunter. "Thank you."
Jango nodded to Taun We in dismissal, then spoke to the boy, who had suspiciously watched the entire interview, encouraging him to go with the Kaminoan. Boba clearly did not like this order, but he did not disobey.
When the two of them were alone in the apartment, Jango opened a cabinet in the wall, removing a bottle and two small glasses. He said nothing as he poured out the drink, and Obi-Wan remained silent as well, studying Fett even more openly than he had before, now that the need for circumspection was gone. Jango was perhaps a few years older than Obi-Wan, and a little shorter, but he was clearly in peak physical condition, hard muscles evident in his broad chest and powerful arms. The man moved with the controlled grace of a fighter, and Obi-Wan watched those muscles bunch and pull beneath the thin shirt. Living, breathing, warm - unique, in contrast to the chill uniformity of the clones.
Fett handed him one of the glasses, and Obi-Wan realized he had no idea what the liquor was. It might very well be drugged or poisoned. Jango saw his hesitation, and the corners of his eyes crinkled in amusement. The bounty hunter raised his own glass, preparing to drink first in order to prove his good faith, but Obi-Wan swiftly tipped his head back and tossed the drink down his throat.
It burned through his chest, infusing him with warmth. Whatever it was, it was strong stuff. Still smiling, Jango drained his own glass, then offered, "Another?"
"Please."
Jango tipped the bottle, refilling both their glasses, then suggested, "A toast?"
Obi-Wan gazed squarely into those dark eyes, not flinching. He had just uncovered a horrible secret that would have vast consequences for the galaxy. Life as everyone had known it was about to change irrevocably. It was not yet here, but that moment would come. Good and evil, darkness and light, chaos and order -- all those distinctions on which Obi-Wan had based his entire life were no longer clear. They blurred and bled into each other, the edges of truth fuzzed and fading, and Obi-Wan found himself standing on shifting ground, not knowing which side to choose. What difference was there, really, between a Jedi Knight and a bounty hunter? Perhaps there was none at all. Obi-Wan's world was about to collapse, and right now he couldn't bring himself to care.
His eyes never leaving Jango's, dark like the edge of the galaxy, like the frontier of the unknown, Obi-Wan raised his glass. "To what will be."
The bounty hunter nodded in approval. "What will be," he echoed.
They downed their drinks in one gulp, and no sooner had the alcohol hit his stomach than Obi-Wan felt a fist grab the front of his tunic, pulling him forward into a hard, demanding kiss. His hands rapidly found their way beneath Jango's shirt, splaying across his back, fingers digging into those hard muscles, seeking purchase in the welcome reality of the man's body. Fett's mouth left his, charting a path across his cheek, teeth scraping across flesh, rasping his beard.
Jango's hands dropped to Obi-Wan's belt, but he caught the bounty hunter's wrists, stepping back. He was not so far gone in the moment that he would let Jango get near his lightsaber. He removed his belt, wrapping his weapon in his robe and placing it on a table. Of course Jango could still get to it if he wanted, but he wouldn't. This was a truce between them. Of sorts.
Unarmed himself, Jango waited until Obi-Wan had divested himself of his lightsaber, then he seized the Jedi once more, hands snaking into Obi-Wan's tunics, pushing them open, back over his shoulders.
Clothing rapidly shed, two pairs of ever alert eyes reading the signs of battle written on each other's skin, calloused hands tracing old scars, testing the strength of muscle. Jango's skin was dark, like Bail's, hair black and curly, like Bail's, and a detached part of Obi-Wan's mind reflected that he probably ought to feel guilty - or at least ought to feel something. He had never cheated on Bail, not even in the early years when the Prince had not desired such a commitment. He ought to be surprised at himself for pursuing a fleeting liaison with a virtual stranger, and a deadly one at that. But he and Jango were in a world of their own right now, a world without polarities of right and wrong. This was the between time, that weightless moment before the balance tipped. None of the conventional rules or obligations applied. Here Jedi Knight and bounty hunter would anchor themselves in each other however briefly, opposites uniting as twins.
The galaxy was mobilizing for combat, and two warriors waged their own battle, reconnoitering into enemy territory, gathering intelligence on the opponent's strengths and weaknesses, plotting strategy.
On the hard floor, now. No need for a bed. There were no amenities on the battlefield. After the horrors of the clone factory, Obi-Wan felt vibrantly alive, the way he felt only in combat. Jango was dark like Bail, but this was not his lover. Not his lover, but a body with which he was intimately familiar. Tough, sinewy, brutally strong. They grappled and struggled together, each bending the other to his own pleasure, and for a brief moment they fought over who would conquer and who would surrender, who would take and who would be taken.
But this was not a real battle. This was parley, truce, and Obi-Wan wanted his own pleasure as much as he wanted Jango's. He rolled onto his stomach and pushed himself up on his knees, not in submission but in offering.
Jango crouched over him, one strong arm pulling the Jedi snugly to his chest, and with one thrust they were joined. Obi-Wan shuddered beneath the bounty hunter. It was not painful. No, not painful at all, but delicious, intense, blessedly alive. The heat filled him, like the alcohol that had started this, infusing his body with intoxicating warmth, seeping into his bloodstream, swallowing up the horrors he had witnessed, the horrors that were yet to come. This ancient rhythm was the tattoo of the universe's heartbeat, these primal sensations the gasp of life itself. Everything was changing around them, but this remained the same: the truth of skin on skin, the justice of bodies finding pleasure in each other, the triumph of orgasm.
Afterward they did not remain wrapped together long. They did not talk or offer inane pleasantries as they dressed. No need to explain anything at all. They understood each other with perfect clarity.
Less than an hour later they met again in a different kind of combat, though one no less exhilarating or fulfilling. And in the asteroid belt of Geonosis, they played the same game of hunter and hunted, reversing their roles over and over again as they had on the floor of Jango's apartment. It was fitting that Jango should be there to watch from the stands as Obi-Wan was brought into the arena to face his execution, and when Obi-Wan saw Jango meet his death at Mace Windu's hand, he paused in silent salute to a worthy opponent, glad that in the end he was not the one who had taken Fett down.
They had known that only one of them would survive, and it could have been Obi-Wan who died just as easily as it was Jango. The bounty hunter's death signaled the end of the galaxy as anyone had known it. Obi-Wan lived to face this new dawn, but a small part of him was left behind on the sands of the arena on Geonosis.
The story told, there seemed to be nothing else to say. Obi-Wan and Bail sat side by side on the couch, silent, each weighed down, but not by thoughts. There were entirely too many weighty thoughts to ponder. Rather their minds floated blank, a moment's respite before they would be compelled to face reality once more.
"Well," Bail began, then stopped. He couldn't think of anything to say.
"I'm sorry," Obi-Wan offered, but he wasn't really. It had just been one of those things in life that happened, a bizarre tryst in a galaxy that was losing its mind. He couldn't really say he regretted it.
"No need to apologize," Bail shrugged.
"Are you angry with me?" Obi-Wan asked, though he knew Bail wasn't.
"Do you want me to be?"
"I don't know. Maybe."
"All right." He thwacked Obi-Wan on the head. "You scum-sucking, selfish bastard. How dare you. Then I kick you out, you bring me flowers, grovel on the floor for a bit, and I forgive you and we have spectacular make-up sex."
Obi-Wan wrapped his arms around Bail, his face buried in the Prince's neck. Thankfully some things in the galaxy had not changed. He understood Bail's reaction, or lack thereof, and was grateful for it, grateful that he had someone to go to. "I love you," he said.
"Glad to hear it," Bail replied. In truth he didn't give a damn what Obi-Wan had done. The only thing that mattered was that Obi-Wan was here now. "I'll tell you how you can make it up to me." He pulled back to look at Obi-Wan, eyes dark like a night in a lover's bed, dark like the depth of a kiss. "Stay here with me tonight. Just hold me. The Republic is going to war, and I have a feeling we won't be seeing much of each other for a while."
Obi-Wan didn't answer, just gathered Bail into his arms. Here was his anchor, his berth, his refuge. Wherever he roamed in the galaxy, no matter what happened, he had a place to come home to. He didn't need anything else.
~ fin ~