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Title: "For the Record" by Quiller
Rating: G
Disclaimer: I am only dipping my pen in George's inkwell. No credits, Republic or otherwise, have been exchanged.
Description: Obi-Wan in disgrace. When I first saw that haunting E2 picture of Obi-Wan, head down, cloak pulled close, I wondered what could possibly bring him to ruin, if indeed, that is what the picture suggests. Though Obi-Wan's fate in this story is entirely my own creation, it is set solidly in E2 and hints strongly of E2 story lines. Don't read it if spoilers are an issue for you.
Obi-Wan Kenobi paced into Bail Organa's office unannounced. Dark head bent over his desk, Bail was working late, as Obi-Wan had known he would be. The Fleet Commander looked up sharply. He startled and popped to his feet. "Obi-Wan!" Bail leaned forward on his fists, as if steadying himself.
The Jedi swayed slightly as his last reserve of energy evaporated. He stumbled forward and collapsed into a chair.
"Stars alive, man. You look terrible," Bail said.
"Thanks." Obi-Wan rubbed his beard wearily.
Bail eased back into his chair. He rested his elbows on the desk, cupped his right hand with his left, and studied Obi-Wan, brown gaze darkened with concern. "It just came over the newsvids. Sithspawn, I don't know what to say."
Obi-Wan pressed finger and thumb against his eye sockets in an attempt to ease the dull ache behind his eyes. He should be thankful the Council hadn't broadcast the tribunal outside the Temple. All he felt was numb.
Bail thumped the desk, making data-discs jump and scatter, and drawing Obi-Wan's gaze. His features contorted as he said, "Blast them! The Senate is behind this."
"Not on good terms with your former colleagues?" Obi-Wan asked, slightly bemused by Bail's violent reaction.
"Why do you think I took this appointment? I had to get out of that poisonous atmosphere for a while."
Obi-Wan shrugged, too exhausted to bother discussing politics, something Bail never seemed to tire of. He stared blankly out the window behind the Fleet Commander's desk. In the silence that followed, unspoken consolation seemed to flow from the man that Obi-Wan was happy to call a friend.
"Why did you come here, Obi-Wan?" Bail asked quietly.
Steering his drifting attention back to Bail, Obi-Wan said, "I hear you might have a job opening."
One dark eyebrow arched slightly. A speculative look entered Bail's gaze and he straightened. "I do. On my personal staff, as it happens. But I'm not sure you're a suitable candidate."
Obi-Wan scowled and shifted in his chair. "Why not? I was suitable three days ago."
Bail shook his head slowly. "Aside from the fact that I'd have to justify hiring you?" He reached out and activated his holovid, then sat back in his chair, fingers steepled. The holo of a female newscaster flickered to life. "In local news, the tribunal of Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi wrapped up today. The knight was accused of violating several Jedi regulations relating to an incident in which he hijacked a military vessel to destroy a Trans-Galactic Enterprise facility in the Duro system. The Jedi Council dealt harshly with one of their own, expelling Kenobi from the Order." The holo dissolved into one of Obi-Wan, looking stern and unbending, as he told Mace he understood the judgment. The newscaster resumed, "Kenobi was unmoved as punishment was meted out. Reaction in the Senate--" Bail cut the recording short.
Obi-Wan stared at the holo-projection base. He gripped the arms of the chair to stop from shaking.
"Well?" Bail asked softly.
Their gazes met. Obi-Wan frowned. "Well, what?"
"You are remarkably calm for someone whose world has just imploded."
Irritation pricked Obi-Wan's mind. He stared dully at Bail as he waited silently for his friend to explain himself. Instead, Bail said, "They were right, you know."
Obi-Wan fought to hide his shock. "Who was right?"
"The Jedi Council." Bail leaned back and steepled his fingers. "I was a little surprised they actually had the courage to step out and finger one of their own."
Strain radiated out from Obi-Wan's eyes as he fought to keep his gaze open and his composure in tact. What was wrong with Bail? A moment ago he had been all set to blame the Senate. Now ... "They were not right. They caved in to political pressure. They acted out of fear." He forced his hold on the chair to relax.
"No. They found you guilty -- and you are."
"You don't even know the whole story."
Bail shrugged. "True. I only know what you told me when we visited. And even from the little you told me, I know you're guilty."
Taking several slow breaths, Obi-Wan said, "How can you say that? The Force was guiding me."
"Is that what you'll say the first time you step out of line under my command?"
Obi-Wan glared at Bail, who dropped his hands into his lap and glared back. Bail said, "Well? If we find another cloning facility and you're under orders not to destroy it, are you going to disregard those orders? If I order you to complete a mission and you decide the Force is telling you otherwise, what are you going to do?"
"How can I know that?" Obi-Wan clipped. "I would fulfill my duties to the best of my abilities. You can't expect more than that."
"I have to do much more than that," Bail replied. "I have to be able to trust you, Obi-Wan." He paused and leaned forward. "Can I?"
"You would ask me that?" Obi-Wan refused to show Bail how much his words hurt. It was shades of the tribunal all over again. Force, Bail was his friend. He clenched and unclenched his jaw in time to the throbbing in his head.
Durasteel edged Bail's words. "The military is not nearly so lenient with wrong-doers."
"I am not a wrong-doer." Obi-Wan was half out of his seat before he realized what he was doing. He sat back down, and forced himself to breath slowly and evenly. It chilled him that that was how the galaxy would view him henceforth.
Bail continued as if Obi-Wan had said nothing. "You'd be serving twenty years in the brig, or in a hard labor camp. Some severe types of insubordination even call for execution."
Obi-Wan's whisper was harsh. "I can see coming here was a mistake."
"So leave," replied Bail. "Run and hide. Show the galaxy how weak the Jedi truly are."
Obi-Wan glared at the ex-politician. As their gazes clashed, a blinding need unfurled deep inside -- the need to scream, to hit something. Obi-Wan pressed his lips together. His nostrils flared as he strove to dampen the desire to strike out. His muscles began to tremble.
"What do you know of it?" Obi-Wan asked in a tight voice. "What have you ever lost? Your life has been one long series of open doors. You've never had to fight for anything. I gave my life and soul, and fair amount of blood, to the Jedi. My loyalty is unquestioned. Force, I could serve a lifetime of hard labor and never flinch under the load if I knew the Jedi stood behind me. But they've cut me loose. Disowned me. I ... no longer have the right to name myself as Knight. My padawan will be trained by another. They. Took. My. Identity." He cleared his throat and whispered, "Execution would have been merciful."
"You expect me to believe you prefer death to dishonor? The cowardly way out to a chance to redeem yourself? What a load of nerf crap."
With a sweep of his hand Obi-Wan cleared half of Bail's desk. Bail didn't flinch. Obi-Wan leapt to his feet, chest heaving, as he drilled his gaze into Bail's. "What do you want?" Obi-Wan spun and kicked the chair beside his. It flew backwards and crashed into the door. Obi-Wan wheeled back to face Bail. "Just back off, Bail! Sithspawn! I'm not a droid. I passed through the flames and I'm a pile of ashes." He flung his arm out, pointing a shaky finger out the window. "I just walked away from the only home ... the only life I've ever known. Do you think I found that easy? Do you think I did it willingly? I thought you were my friend. I came to you because I ..." Obi-Wan choked back the misery clogging his throat and whispered, "I have nowhere else to turn."
Still Bail sat unmoving.
"Are you my friend, Bail? Maybe you'd rather show me your back, like so many did in the Temple today."
Something approaching a sneer crept across Bail's face.
Obi-Wan clenched and unclenched his fists. Frustration mounted as he stared at Bail's insolent expression. The desire to strike out flared into a conflagration searing his soul. Force help him, he needed to hit something. He spun and lunged toward the fiberplast partition hiding a conference table. "Ahhhhhhh!" Obi-Wan drove his fist through the partition.
Bail was on his feet and around the desk before Obi-Wan had extracted his aching hand from the hole he'd made. Bail grasped his shoulders and smiled. "I'm glad that wasn't my face. Feel better?"
Obi-Wan frowned. "Not particularly. I think I broke my little finger." He stopped and glared at Bail, realization slowly dawning. With his left hand, he grabbed Bail by the collar and gave a shake. "You glob of Hutt pus, you wanted me to do that."
Bail laughed and gave Obi-Wan an abrupt hug. He slipped from Obi-Wan's slack grasp and returned to his chair. Obi-Wan stared at his scraped knuckles for a few seconds, a part of him wanting to hang on to his indignance even as it slipped away. He sat back down.
"Was that really necessary?" Obi-Wan peered at his noticeably pleased friend.
"Yes. Admit it: you do feel better."
"I'll admit no such thing." A reluctant smile started to crinkle his eyes. Obi-Wan fell serious. "For the record, Bail." He grimaced at his choice of words. "Don't ever, ever goad me into losing control like that again." He rubbed his throbbing finger.
"Agreed. I just needed to know it was there."
"You're as bad as Anakin, needing to see my pain." Obi-Wan narrowed his eyes. "Do you really think I'm guilty?"
Bail sighed. "On paper, perhaps. But I know you, Obi-Wan. I know you would never do something like that unnecessarily." He looked deeply into Obi-Wan's eyes. "I trust you. Completely."
Obi-Wan nodded tersely as he swallowed the lump of emotion
in his throat.
Bail continued, "I'm proud to call you a friend, Obi-Wan.
I'd be pleased to have you serve under my command. Still, there
are times when I wonder if you feel ... anything at all ... under
that Jedi shell. I'm not sure I can work with a blasted saint."
Obi-Wan stared uncomprehendingly at Bail. Suddenly he gave a short laugh. "That's what that was all about? You couldn't be more wrong on that score. Maybe I should ask Council for a copy of the holo-record. Then I could show you the moment when I told Even Piell he needed to descend from the heights to see how the common folk live."
The eyebrow arched again and amusement sparked gold in the brown eyes."I would like to see that." Bail's voice dropped. "I feel so blasted helpless, Obi-Wan. I wish there was something I could do for you."
"Give me a job."
"You had that the second you walked in the door."
Obi-Wan grunted. He said, "And a bed."
"There's an empty apartment in the officers' barracks that's yours for the asking."
"Thank you, friend."
"Will you be okay?"
Obi-Wan nodded slowly. "Believe it or not, I'm right where the Force wants me." He sighed.
"But?"
Obi-Wan met Bail's concerned gaze and looked away. He let his head fall against the high back of the chair and stared at the grey ceiling. It reminded him of the heavy mist obscuring his path and he scanned it hungrily, looking for a sign of things to come. "I don't think I'll ever get used to it, Bail."
"Used to what?"
"You know how beings always want to know what you do, ... what you did."
"Yes. What of it?" Bail's kindly tone urged him to continue.
"I ..." Obi-Wan paused and averted his eyes, suddenly reluctant to see anything of the path before him. "I don't think I'll ever get used to saying, 'I was once a Jedi Knight.'"
