That Which is Best Forgotten

It is said that once in a lifetime, magic and the full moons combine, and those caught in it are taken to another place, another time, where all things are possible and reality never intrudes. The double moons bespell the garden and the secret fragrances beckon. Until the sun banishes the moonlight the spell holds, but at the touch of the sun, reality returns. Everything has happened, and nothing has. The magic leaves memories that linger, sweet and yet painful.

From the Book of Kalth'r, lying open on the bedside table of one young and very sound asleep padawan, in the grand palace of Kalth'r.

Two silvery orbs hung over the gardens, shedding warm light on the grounds, a shimmering radiance backlighting the trees and shrubs that seemed to stretch into infinity. Pockets of shadow interspersed with patches of bright light; the whole almost appearing to glow in the warm air with just a hint of a breeze.

On an upper level balcony, a man leaned against the railing, hand brushing his chin. The night seemed to be calling to him, and the man grinned to himself at his fanciful thoughts, for he was not given to such imaginings. Perhaps, he mused to himself, perhaps he would indulge in such whimsy. He had so little opportunity in his life.

It was nearly midnight. A magic hour under the full moons, it was said, where many things could happen if one opened himself to it – of magic enchanting or horrific. The night held no horrors, not for a Jedi, not even in the dark of night under a moonless sky.

The man turned and looked behind him, though his senses told him what he was looking to see. His padawan lay sound asleep, untouched by the moonlight in the room behind; the book that his master had read a portion of to him earlier laying at his side. A fanciful book, the master had thought, but his padawan had insisted. A slight breeze had turned the pages beyond that last read, to leave it open to the whisper of the night breeze.

The last of the delegates had left earlier that day; the Jedi would leave in the morning. In this vast estate, few remained, and none were awake. Peace lay all round. He would allow himself to relax; he was off duty now that the mission was complete. Perhaps he would walk in the gardens and enjoy the quiet, all too rare these days, let the siren call of the Kalth'r rare double moon night whisper to him. His padawan had finally given in to sleep, thus no questions demanded answers, and the master could just be for an entire evening.

So Obi-Wan Kenobi wandered, hands tucked behind his back, admiring the flowers in the soft light, so different from the harsh light of day. Magic, the night seemed magical – a soft scent wafted on the warm breeze, and Obi-Wan wondered at the flights of fancy he was giving in to. He hadn't had that much to drink that night, yet something tugged at him, filled his nose with rich sweet aromas.

Intrigued with the fanciful mood he felt stealing over him – he followed the beckoning currents. The night was full of whispers, intoxicating scents and moonlight, as if a spell had been cast on the night. He shook his head as a slight smile turned up the corner of his mouth – he was indulging in a flight of fancy that was foreign to him. It wasn't like him, but he didn't sense danger. He sensed – something he had no name for, as if this night was one of beginnings and endings, joy and sorrow, love and parting.

He felt a tug and followed its path, rounded a corner and somehow wasn't surprised to see her. Siri. She was leaning on the balustrade of a small terrace, flowers at her feet and the full moons shining on her. She turned around and smiled, and Obi-Wan caught his breath – Siri had never looked so beautiful, warm and welcoming in the moonlight.

"Obi-Wan." Her smile was warm. "I would have thought prosaic you were long asleep, not wandering at this hour. Did Anakin wake you with new questions?"

He smiled, for his padawan was known to find questions at any odd hour of the day or night.

"No, he was sleeping when I checked on him. I felt – an urge to just relax and enjoy being myself, not a Jedi on duty this night. I can't really remember if there was ever a time I was just me, Obi-Wan." The corners of his mouth quirked up as they did when he was half-amused at something.

"I know," Siri said. She extended a hand to take his, and guided him to her side where they stood looking over the water, at the double moons' reflections stretching as a silver finger from the sky to their feet.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" she said, turning her eyes to his- eyes that were soft, not sharp, in this evening of shadow and light. Obi-Wan looked at her, and fought a sudden urge to kiss her lips and drown in her eyes. He closed his eyes; this was dangerous. It had been years, since as young adults they had admitted and renounced their love. They were adults now, with years of sorrow and joy behind them, yet his heart had leaped within him as if he were that young man again, first touched by love, at Siri's eyes touched by moonlight.

As if…as if this night they were just two people, Siri and Obi-Wan, alone in a enchanted garden where nothing else existed, where there were no Jedi knights, no duties and missions, and no responsibilities except to themselves. Dangerous, yet there was no sense of danger, only life beckoning to them to partake of it.

"Yes," he said absently, lost in memories, trying to forget.

"You're so romantic, Obi-Wan," Siri said, her voice soft at his side. When he sighed, she laughed, though there was a note of sadness underneath it. "For just tonight, can't you loosen up some, pretend we're at least good friends."

He shook his head, but the moonlight was working its magic on him, too. "Siri, you know we – I should return. I feel unsettled, like there's a spell working here and I can't – I need to go."

A warm hand stopped him, touched his arm. "Don't go, Obi-Wan. Don't let a little moonlight scare off the brave Jedi knight who defeated a Wookiee in unarmed hand to hand combat."

Obi-Wan chuckled. "Arm wrestling a drunken Wookiee was stupid, even for a Jedi. I got lucky. Even if he was a friend, and Dex had fueled me up with a few drinks beforehand. I didn't know you were there."

"Half the Temple was there, you gundark, cheering you on. I admit I got a bit worried when Lobec had your head in an armlock, but that kick to a sensitive area you gave him – genius. Of course, that's when I was afraid that pretty face of yours was going to end up all broken and hideous – you were lucky to get nothing more than a black eye out of that."

"And numerous bruises to boot. No, I don't think I'll challenge a Wookiee to a fight anytime soon – now wait a moment, I don't think – Siri! Wasn't it your voice shouting 'I'll give ten credits to see Obi-Wan take on Lobac?'"

"That was me, but I swear it was Mace Windu wondering if any Jedi could beat Lobac that put the idea in my head – you notice he didn't offer."

They both smiled at the memory and stood leaning side by side, looking over the waters, Obi-Wan's stated intention of leaving forgotten. On a sudden impulse, he broke off a blossom of fragrant Tateria and tucked it behind Siri's ear. As he did, a wave of sweet fragrance swirled in the air. It made Obi-Wan dizzy and Siri's face wavered in front of him.

"Oh, dear," he said faintly, and waved his hand in front of his nose. He blinked; Siri was looking at him with surprise, eyes wide and warm, and Obi-Wan leaned forward and kissed her. Siri's lips parted and she leaned into it, before they both pulled away.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, drawing back, folding his arms behind his back again, fighting the urge to wrap them around her.

"I'm not," Siri breathed.

A slight smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Neither am I, exactly. I really should go back, will you stay?"

"I'll come, it's late," Siri said, and accepted Obi-Wan's arm when it was offered to her. They walked slowly through the grounds, silent, though they both stole looks at each.

Obi-Wan's head was swimming with the fragrances, and he hoped he wasn't allergic to the plant. They arrived on the wide balcony and he opened the doors to her room for her to pass through, stood as she hesitated in the doorway, framed in moonlight.

"Good night, Siri."

"Obi-Wan." Her soft words stopped him even as he turned. "Obi-Wan, why don't you come in?"

He was stuck in place, needing to go, wanting to stay. "S…Siri," he stammered, as she took his hand and pulled him after her. His footsteps took him there as his mind fought his heart, yet the only alarm blaring in him was born of duty, not of the Force.

"Oh, sit down, I wanted your opinion." Once Obi-Wan was led, pushed into a chair, Siri sat down on his lap and wrapped an arm around him. He gulped; could feel the heat rising within him, an urge that all his Jedi training in control couldn't subdue.

"You want me." She leaned close to him, nibbled at his ear as one arm wrapped around his neck and the other stroked the back of his head.

"Isn't it just a bit obvious?" he mumbled, trying to lift Siri from his lap onto her feet.

Siri giggled. Siri never giggled. Warning bells rang in Obi-Wan's head, and he looked warily around, sniffed the air. Now he had an irrational wish to actually do something foolish himself, rather than just think of it.

Something's wrong! But at the same time, something seemed so right.

"S…Siri," but he couldn't wrap his tongue around her name. He put a hand to his head in confusion. What was he trying to say? He couldn't remember. He shook his head worriedly and took Siri's head between his hands. Maybe she'd tell him, if she'd look at him, if there was something visibly wrong with him.

Her eyes focused on his and she smiled. "Obi-Wan," she purred and leaned in to plant a kiss on his nose. Her arms came around his neck and she pressed herself against him. "Hey, Obi, what's say we forget our promise, at least for now?"

"Pr…promise?" he stuttered as her lips slid down to his mouth, trying to silence him. "Siri…something's wrong…seriously wrong."

"What's wrong is you're not kissing me back, Obi," she whispered before capturing his mouth with hers. "Don't you want me anymore?"

He squeezed his eyes shut. Oh, don't tempt me, Siri, he thought. We can never be – we agreed we had to be friends only, as long as we remain Jedi. He reached to her shoulders, to try to shake her out of this confusion, this intoxication that had overcome them.

"Siri, snap out of it!" he insisted. "You're not yourself…we can't… we're not ourselves. Focus on clearing your system."

He was finding it hard to breath, with Siri so close to him, her hands rubbing the nape of his neck. He shuddered with the feelings running through him; he who so prided himself on his self-control, his calm. This was quite beyond his experience and it was both exciting and terrifying.

Siri leaned back and rested her hands on his shoulders, and inexplicably, he wished she were back in his arms. Her eyes were bright and luminous in the soft light. She blinked, and then smiled.

"You crazy gundark," she whispered fondly. "We can blame it on the moonlight."

"No," he shook his head, denying her words between kisses that left both of them breathless. "Siri, don't you feel it? Something's affecting us, affecting our judgment. We have to focus."

"I'm focusing on your lips," she giggled. "They're not kissing me."

"Siri," he tried again, shaking her shoulders as he tried to clear his own mind. He cleared his throat. "I can't kiss you, Siri. Remember? We're Jedi. No attachments, the Code, you know."

Her hands tightened on his shoulders and he could see her trying to fight it, the small sigh that escaped her lips. Her eyes darkened and he could sense the Force swirl about her as she pulled it to her.

"Obi-Wan?" she whispered uncertainly.

"Siri," he answered unsteadily, his heart thumping against his chest as she continued to stare at him. "Don't slap me, Siri, it's something in the air," he tried to tease her, hoping she would laugh, then he, and the momentary embarrassment would dissipate.

She continued to look at him and then dropped her eyes. To his utter surprise, she leaned into him and wrapped her arms around his neck. "We can…we can blame it on the moonlight." Her eyes, so sharp and piercing, were soft with tears and he could feel the Force drawing them together.

"Siri," he said helplessly as she trembled against him. He bent to her lips, instead gently kissed her on the forehead. "Siri, we can't…."

Her hands were less sure and her body trembled as she took one of his hands and placed it on the curve of her back.

"Are you sure… won't we regret this?" Obi-Wan asked huskily. The morning would bring regrets, but they at least would have tonight. Surely one night would balance out a lifetime of regrets? She unfastened his equipment belt; it dropped to the ground with a soft thump in answer, and her hands slid under his tunic, to run over his chest.

He groaned. "I'll regret it if we don't," he whispered in her ear as he pulled her close, ran his hands through her golden hair. She led him over to her bed and pulled him down beside her, and two pair of hands trembled as they reached to each other…

…he was gentle, as she knew he would be. And when passion was spent, she lay within the curve of his arms, head against his chest and their legs entwined. Neither one of them spoke. His hand was tangled in her hair, absently stroking it. She reached a hand and traced idle circles on his chest, the light sprinkling of hair soft under her fingers as his chest rose and fell in a slow and steady motion.

"You've gotten a lot of scars over the years," Siri observed.

"Mmm," he answered. He wanted to hold onto this moment a while longer, until he would have to forget it ever happened. Siri raised herself on one elbow and looked at Obi-Wan with an attempt at humor. "I hear the first time isn't the best, want to try again?'

"Are you complaining?" he asked idly, and jumped as she poked him in the ribs. Apparently not, based on the expression on her face.

"Silly gundark. No, obviously we both were a bit tentative and yes, it did hurt a little, but…." Her words were cut off as he silenced her with an apologetic kiss. He made no other move towards her, and she suspected he held back because now he was afraid of hurting her.

Her eyes grew mischievous, and she gave him another good poke in the ribs. Obi-Wan sat up and gave her a surprised look.

"Let's see just how much stamina a Jedi has," she challenged him, and pushed him back down, straddling his stomach as she grinned into his face. "It should get better each time."

"Just how many times were you thinking of?" His eyes showed how startled he was.

"How much time until daylight?" she teased him. How much time until we have to pretend this never happened?

Soft morning sun stole into the room and slowly crept down a wall, across the floor, to touch the bed where the two finally slept. Obi-Wan woke first, feeling warmth steal over his back, and opened his eyes to see Siri's head cradled against his shoulder, golden hair tickling his bare chest. He blinked, his eyes slowly traveling over Siri's body, his own, wondering at his shedding of his usual modesty, for they had slept without covers, loved without covers.

He shifted uneasily, unsure of her reaction now that morning had come, unsure of his own feelings. They should never have given in to their feelings, but it had felt so right at the same time. It would never happen again.

They would never again have the magic of the midnight hour under moonlight.

"Siri," Obi-Wan said quietly, as he kissed her head, lying against his shoulder. She yawned and rolled over, jumping when she realized where she was. A small smile touched her eyes as she registered who was beside her, displayed in all his glory. Obi-Wan's eyes followed hers and he blushed under her approval.

"Obi-Wan," she smiled at him, one hand tracing the line of his jaw, the shape of his lips. Her eyes lingered on him, the reality of what had fancied more than one dream over the years. "You – big – unnecessarily modest gundark – you have nothing to be ashamed of, you know."

He blushed and tried to pull the covers up; only her hand was there to stop him. They looked at each other; they knew they would never have another night. Once this one ended, it would have to be as if it had never happened.

"You know…we weren't ourselves last night," Obi-Wan offered, an excuse to ….

"I know. We were under a spell – something in the air," Siri agreed. "Neither of us knew what we were doing, and we'll never speak of this. It didn't happen."

"Siri," he whispered and put out a hand to touch her; stopped before he did. He let it drop to his side. They stared hungrily at each other, reluctant to let go and knowing they could not hang on.

"It never happened," he agreed quietly, closing his eyes.

"It never happened," she echoed.

Silence hung between them. Nothing had happened, and everything had.

"Except… maybe to two people, intoxicated and not knowing what they were doing, and perhaps…perhaps grateful for the memory."

Her words were a parting gift. She would let him remember, and herself, but as something that happened to them, not something they had chosen to do. Something that could not be held onto, such as a pleasant dream that, once woken from, slipped from one's grasp no matter how hard one tried to hold onto it.

It still hurt. Obi-Wan knew they hadn't been intoxicated. Oh, something had got to them, started them on their night's journey together. It had been intoxicating, but they had used Jedi techniques to cast off the spell. They had had their night, and it hadn't been under the influence of anything other than a handy excuse. He had known it from her tears at the thought of letting the moment escape them.

He would never have taken advantage of her intoxication. He had more self-control than to give in to his own. They had shared the night in full cognizance of what they were doing.

And now it was over. One night he had had, as Obi-Wan. Now it was time to remember who he was, who she was, who they both were.

Jedi knights, to whom love was forbidden.

"It was something in the air," he agreed, and lay staring at the ceiling.

For the magic was only granted once in a lifetime, under the full light of double silver moons, at midnight in a garden of intoxicating scents when even Jedi could be bespelled.