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Cultural Exchange: Jedi Rita

Authors: Jedi Rita and Helens
Rating: NC-17
Summary: This time it's Jedi Rita's Obi-Wan with QAJ's Bail. Are you confused yet?
Feedback: Yes, we'd love it!
Disclaimer: Lucas... and maybe Rod Serling and Gene Roddenberry.

Notes: This is just for fun, not canon in either universe and not meant to be taken seriously! It is most definitely an AU fic! (Of particular note: lack of safe sex. The boys should know better, but with this being A Fic That Never Happened, we can forgive them this time.) Happy April Fools' Day!

Notes pt. 2 for those curious about timelines: Rita's Obi-Wan is 20, and he and Bail are in the first year of their relationship.

(Rita's Obi-Wan)

There is a new security system in place when I arrive at Bail's building. Sometimes I think all these elaborate security efforts are more designed to inflate the senators' sense of self-importance rather than to actually provide security, but I shouldn't be so smug.

One of the guards, Mari, recognizes me and nods a greeting. "How are you this evening, Padawan Kenobi?"

I nod back. "Do I really need to go through this thing?"

"I'm sorry, sir. Even residents do."

I shrug and step toward the force-field screen - only to come close to blacking out when I pass through it. I find myself lying on the floor on my back, fighting back a surge of nausea. I squeeze my eyes shut as I struggle to regain my equilibrium.

"Are you all right, sir?" a voice asks above me. My eyes blink open and I look up to see Mari crouching next to me. How did she get on this side of the screen?

I shake my head, trying to clear it. "That's a rather powerful screen, isn't it?"

"We've had some complaints," she explains as she helps me get to my feet. "The techs are going to come in tomorrow to take a look at it."

I teeter a bit once I'm upright, but the nausea has quickly passed. "I'll be fine," I say in response to Mari's concerned look. She nods to me, and I head toward the elevator. By the time I reach Bail's apartment, I'm as good as new - and eager to see him.

I ring the chime, and the door opens a moment later. Bail is wearing half a smile, but the sparkle in his eyes betrays his happiness at seeing me. "Good evening, Ben."

"Good evening," I reply in kind, waiting for him to drop his reserve and pounce.

But he doesn't. Instead, he takes a step backward, letting me in. I walk past him into the apartment, and he shuts the door behind me. I turn to face him, but he just stands there watching me. No exuberant kiss, no bouncing enthusiasm. He must be tired. I arch an eyebrow at him. "Busy day?"

"Not terribly, thank goodness," he answers. "And you?"

"Rather uneventful. I'm ready to relax, actually." I grin at him and wait.

He grins back, but does nothing. We stand there staring at each other as if waiting for someone to give the signal for us to begin. But there is no signal, and the moment stretches awkwardly.

Bail drops his smile as if it has expired, and clears his throat. "Right, well...dinner, then?"

I guess he's trying to behave respectably for once. That's all right; I can certainly play along. "Sounds great," I agree. "Where to?"

My question catches him by surprise. "Oh - you want to go out tonight after all?"

"We could stay in, if that's what you want." I didn't realize we had made plans.

The "naughty prince" smile I know so well creeps across his face. "You promised to make me dinner. I promised to make it worth your while, if you remember."

I never made such a promise, and I squash a brief stab of jealousy. He must be talking about plans he'd made with someone else. I'm certainly not much of a cook. But it's better if I just go along. Correcting him would serve no purpose, and he'd only want to argue about whose memory is right. "All right, I'll cook for you."

Bail frowns at that, watching me with a hint of impatience. "Is something the matter, Ben?"

I cast a wary glance at him. He usually calls me "Ben" as a form of endearment, not the way he's using it now. "I'm fine," I answer, a little pointedly. He just stares back as if he doesn't quite believe me, and I finally say, "Do you want me to cook for you, or not?"

"Yes." Something in his eyes changes, as if he's made a decision, and he reaches out to wrap his arms around me, his gaze smoldering. "Would you like to kiss me first?"

My face splits in a grin. This is more like the Bail I know. "I can arrange that," I purr, as I cover his mouth with mine. I kiss him the way he likes it, slow and hot and teasing, like I'm tasting something sweet and delicious. He makes no effort to get into my pants, doesn't drag me over to the nearest piece of furniture, just melts helplessly into me as if he's been waiting for this all day long.

I could lose all sense of time in a kiss like this, but before I get completely lost, I break away and nuzzle against his cheek. "You're in a mellow mood tonight," I remark.

He hums deep in his throat, almost like a sigh, and says, "I was going to say the same thing about you. I like it."

Well, that's new! I chuckle. "Me, too."

He pulls away and smiles. "Shall we see about dinner?"

I give him one more kiss for good measure, then murmur, "All right. Are you going to help me, or am I on my own?

He laughs at that. "You want my help? I'd be glad to, but I can scarcely boil water."

"Oh, come on, you're not that bad," I tease as I take his hand and lead him into the kitchen.

"You've never seen my pitiful attempts at cooking anything that doesn't come out of a box."

I frown. Bail doesn't usually play modest over something as trivial as cooking. On the contrary, he's quite an accomplished cook, and he usually teases me mercilessly about my unsophisticated palate. I'm not sure what game he's playing, but I'm not particularly interested dishing out excessive compliments, so I ignore it, dismissing him with a casual, "Right."

I rummage through the cupboards, looking for something I can throw together, while Bail leans against the counter, watching me. I find some canned soup and bread, and there's cheese in the refrigerator. Grilled cheese sandwiches: I can manage that.

Bail watches as I fix the sandwiches and lay them out on the griddle, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "In a hurry tonight?"

"You're the one who wanted dinner first," I retort. "If we're not going out, I can think of a few things I'd like to do here later on." I flash him a wicked grin.

A grin which he mirrors before shifting back into his Mr. Cool mode. "I confess, I was hoping for something more along the lines of the omelet I got last week for breakfast, but this will do just fine. I'm just glad to have you here."

He reaches out to hug me, and I melt against him. I don't understand why he's teasing me about some omelet, but why should I care as long as he is being so cuddly? "So you'd rather have me than an omelet?" I slyly retort. "I feel so cherished."

He laughs again and nuzzles against my neck, his breath hot and moist, his tongue licking a trail to my ear. I shiver in his arms. I really like this new side of Bail. He's finally learned the value of a slow seduction.

He nibbles on my ear before leisurely traveling down my jaw toward my eager lips. Just as he's about to reach his happy destination, the smell of something burning grabs my attention. "Whoa!" I shout, pushing him away. I turn back toward the griddle.

"What?" he asks in confusion, as I turn over the sandwiches - too late. They are quite burned. "Oh, dear," he sighs, then chuckles. "You are distracted tonight, aren't you? What happened to my adorable gourmet chef?"

I don't really appreciate his idea of humor. "It's your fault for mixing sex with cooking."

"I thought you enjoyed mixing sex with everything."

I snort. He's describing himself, not me. "Well, maybe there are some limits. Especially if you want anything edible for dinner tonight."

He eyes the ruined sandwiches. "Perhaps we should have ordered something in...."

"Now that's a smart idea," I agree as I abandon the sandwiches and turn back to him for another kiss. Who really needs to eat?

He surrenders for a moment before inexplicably eluding me. I keep my hands on him as he rummages through a nearby drawer and comes up with a delivery menu. "What are you in the mood for?"

Perturbed, I slide my hand down to cup his crotch. "Whatever you want."

He gasps and drops the menu, head going back. "Ohhh, and here I was beginning to think you weren't interested after all."

Now I'm really starting to get annoyed. Why would he think I'm not interested? But I don't stop since I have finally gotten the reaction I've been wanting. "Oh please, Bail," I chide. "You're the one who's been playing coy, here, not me."

This earns me a puzzled look. "We stopped playing games with each other weeks ago," he replies, but before he can go on I slip my hand into his pants and start stroking him in earnest. It works, and he clutches at me, moaning, "Oh, Gods, don't stop."

I don't know what he meant by that comment about playing games, and it's especially rich coming from him tonight. "All right, then: no more games." I squeeze him hard, and he gasps. "Is this what you want?" I ask, my voice husky.

His eyes flutter closed. "Oh, yes. Yes." He's losing the ability to speak, and he finally sputters, "Bed?"

He may think I'm something of a prude, but it's good to know I can render him speechless. Still working him hard, I observe, "You know, you could have just said something when I got here."

Eyes still closed, he leans heavily against me. "I'll remember that next time."

Clutching his cock as if it were a rudder, I steer him into the bedroom. He's definitely beyond speech now, and totally compliant beneath my hands. None of his usual running on at the mouth. I've always wondered how it's possible for someone to talk so much during sex, but he isn't talking now. He's completely responsive to me, more so than he has ever been before. He clings to me so tightly it's hard for me to get our clothes off, and I have him panting, gasping as I slide into him. At least he's thought of something else to do with his mouth as he kisses me, drawing hard on my lips and tongue.

It's not long before we're both groaning in completion, and we collapse in a sticky, sweaty, messy heap. He lies immobile beneath me, chest heaving. I start to roll off him, but his arms slide around my waist and he holds me in place. I catch my breath, then slowly exhale against his neck, nuzzling against his salty skin. "You did have a rough day, didn't you?"

"Not really," he answers between kisses, "but I have been looking forward to seeing you all week. I missed you."

That's a rather odd confession from him, but it pleases me. "Well, isn't that sweet," I tease, kissing him on the nose. "I must be moving up in the ranks."

I continue to drop feather-light kisses across his face, but he has stopped moving. "What's that supposed to mean?" he asks.

"You're actually missing me." I stop and rise up on my elbows to look down at him. Suddenly the knowledge that he missed me makes me feel uncomfortable.

"Shouldn't I miss you?" he asks, gazing up at me, his eyes impossibly dark in the dim light.

"Well...." I'm not sure how to answer. "Do you miss the others?"

"What others?"

"You know, your...groupies."

He only looks more confused. "What groupies?"

"Oh, please, Bail," I chide, rolling off him and sitting up. "This modesty act just doesn't work for you."

He scowls up at me. "All right, just what are you going on about?"

"Your groupies," I spit back. "Your other lovers. Do you miss them, too?"

"You think I have other lovers?" His expression grows even darker. "I thought that was your department."

The nerve! "You're the one with all the notches on your bedpost, your Highness."

Now his scowl is thunderous, and he pushes himself up on his hands, his body rigid. "If this is your way of trying to dig for information on my past, you could be a hell of a lot more subtle. If you must know, you're my second lover."

I laugh in disbelief. "What do you mean 'second lover'? As in 'second lover you've had this week'?

He holds up an accusatory finger at me. "There was Padawan Aubris nine years ago on Alderaan," he says, then holds up a second finger. "Now there's you. This, despite my rules on never fucking Jedi. I'm doing a damn poor job of that, it seems."

He's never mentioned this other padawan before, but I let it slide. "What about all the non-Jedi lovers in between?"

"There's been no one else," he says. Before I can think of something appropriately catty to say to that, he continues with a sarcastic look. "I'm sorry if I'm not experienced enough to live up to your standards. Maybe you could take me to one of your sex clubs sometime and give me some pointers."

"Sex clubs?" Shocked and hurt, I pull back, almost to the edge of the bed. "What the hell are you talking about?"

He draws the sheet protectively over his chest. "You tell me. You're not acting like yourself tonight."

"I'm not?" I retort.

"Going on with these accusations. What's that all about? You seem to be under the delusion that I'm some kind of... jet-setting playboy."

I almost laugh at that - that's exactly what he is.

His eyes turn hard. "You called me 'your Highness' -- so you finally found out I'm the prince of Alderaan? Is that where this comes from?"

All right, now I'm starting to get worried. I wonder if he might have sustained a head injury. My thoughts immediately fly back to that security screen. Mari said they'd had complaints about it. What if it somehow scrambled Bail's brain? Keeping my voice calm, I say, "I already know you're the Prince of Alderaan, Bail."

He clutches tightly at the sheet. "You were very nonchalant when I first told you my real name. I thought you hadn't heard of me at all. Was that an act, or did you finally get around to looking me up?"

He's clearly disoriented. Some kind of bizarre concussion? I hope it's reversible. "Bail, just calm down. Tell me what's wrong. Does your head hurt or anything?"

He only looks at me as if I've suddenly sprouted a second nose. Matching my tone, he speaks very slowly. "No, I feel fine. I'm simply not used to my lover coming to my home and accusing me of sleeping with half the planet."

That irritates me, but I struggle not to let it show. "I apologize, but considering you do sleep with half the planet, perhaps you can forgive me for bringing it up."

"Who exactly do you think I am?" he retorts. "Perhaps you have me confused with a different prince, one from Corellia or Ryloth. Maybe if you gave me a list of the various princes you've fucked, I could help you sort this out."

I get out of bed and stalk across the room away from him. It's getting harder and harder to remain calm in the face of his venom. But he's not done with me yet. "There's Prince Dalies of Korwan III. He's about my height, and he's definitely slept with half the galaxy."

I turn around and snap, "Bail, stop it!"

"Oh, so you do remember my name," he retorts.

I exhale heavily, running my hand through my hair. "Of course, I know your name." Before he can fly off the handle again, I say, "Do you remember that new security screening procedure?"

For several moments, he stares at me, blinking in confusion. "Yes," he says at last.

"The guard said they've been having problems with it," I explain. "Maybe...maybe it affected your brain, or something."

"My brain?"

"You don't seem to remember who you are."

He snorts in laughter. "No, you're the one who doesn't--." He screeches to a halt, his brow furrowed in concentration. Then he looks up at me. "Do you remember what you called me when we first met?"

I fail to see the significance of this, but I'm willing to play along. "I imagine I called you 'Senator Organa.'"

He emphatically shook his head. "You didn't know I was a senator. And I've never told you I was a prince."

I rub at my temples, trying to sort this all out. He seems so certain. Perhaps it was my brain that got messed up. I feel fine, though. "I've always known that you were a senator and a prince," I tell him.

He watches me closely for a moment. "How did we first meet?"

"Almost a year ago I was assigned by my master to work with the planning committee of the Cloning Ethics Conference, which you were chairing. That's how we got to know each other."

Stunned, he stammers, "That's -- not how it happened." With a nervous laugh, he adds, "Though you'd certainly be easier to explain to my father if it were. We first met at a sex club called Rising. I told you my name was Gana; you told me your name, which I misheard as Ben."

Where the hell did he come up with a story like that? "What?" I ask stupidly. "I've never been in a sex club in my life."

We stare at each other in silence for several very long minutes, neither of us sure what to do. I mentally review everything since I first passed through that security screen, but aside from that momentary black-out, I seem to be fine. There are no lapses of memory or other signs that my brain has been damaged. But for that matter, Bail hasn't shown any typical signs of brain damage, either. His behavior has been strange, but he's been perfectly lucid.

I approach the bed and sit down next to him, raising my hands to his head. He pulls back, eyes clouded with suspicion. "What are you doing?"

"I just want to check you out," I murmur. "I'm not very talented at healing, but I should be able to discern if something is wrong."

He holds himself away from me, his breath quickening. "Are you going to read my mind or something?"

"No, it's not at all like that. It's more like...monitoring your brainwaves for disruptions." He still looks nervous, almost panicky, and I assure him, "It won't hurt. I'm not going to do anything to you at all. It's just like checking your pulse. But something is wrong with one of us, and I don't think it's me."

He's almost hyperventilating now. For some reason, this really frightens him. I lower my hands, and look deeply into his eyes. "I promise you, Bail, I would never hurt you."

His eyes meet mine for a long, searching moment, and at last he nods. His breathing is still too rapid, but he's no longer panicky.

I raise my hands to his temples, probing gently with the Force. But my finding confirms what I'd already come to suspect: there's nothing wrong with him, either. Somehow, we're both telling the truth.

I lower my hands, and he sighs deeply. "I didn't feel a thing," he whispers, almost to himself.

"Thank you for trusting me," I gently say. "You're fine, and so am I. Something else is going on." I shake my head, at a loss. "It's almost as if we both know different realities."

I review my memories of the security screen. Mari had greeted me when I arrived, then I went through the screen, passed out, and then Mari helped me up again...

...on the other side of the screen! Somehow the two guards switched places! But they couldn't have, unless... "What if we are from different realities?" I venture. "What if somehow that security screen transported me here, out of my own world?"

Bail's eyes narrow in skepticism. "That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard." He pauses. "Then again, maybe it doesn't sound so ridiculous after all. At least that explains why you weren't all over me the instant you got here. And why you burned toast."

I smirk at him, "And why you think we met in a sex club."

"If that screen somehow sent you here, do you think it will send you back?" he asks.

"I certainly hope so. No offense, but I think I'd rather get back to my own reality."

For some reason, my remark seems to make him uncomfortable. He clears his throat. "I apologize for... my behavior this evening. If I'd known you weren't...."

It takes me a moment to realize what he's apologizing for. I blush. "Well, you and I are lovers here, too, so it's understandable." I pause, thinking about what he said earlier. "You say I'm only your second lover here?" He nods, and I feel a shy grin spreading across my face. "Wow. That's kind of...sweet."

He tentatively returns my smile. "Alderaan is -- very strict about sexual relationships."

I have to laugh at that. "Yes, definitely an alternate reality!" His grin widens at that, and I add, "The Bail I know is pretty popular."

He shrugs. "Sounds like my Ben."

I lower my gaze, flushing violently red. It's unsettling to think that my alter ego here is so much like my Bail. On the other hand, with only two lovers, this Bail sounds a lot like me. It makes me wonder if I was born in the wrong universe. I suppose not, but still, things might have been very different.

A hand rests on my shoulder and I look up to see Bail watching me tenderly. Force, he looks so much like my Bail. Haven't I seen this expression in my Bail's eyes before? I can tell I'm still blushing from his touch. I shift on the bed, leaning up into his palm on my shoulder. "You know, um... out there when we were kissing. That was really nice."

"Was it?" he asks, with a shy smile - the kind I never see on my Bail. "I'm a good kisser?"

"Oh, yes," I assure him. "Not that the Bail I know isn't good,'re rather fond of your Ben, aren't you?"

He fidgets a bit. "Much more than I should be."

"Somehow, that's reassuring."

He begins to rub my shoulder, fingers soft and smooth on my skin. "How do you feel about your Bail?" he asks.

I realize suddenly that I'm naked, sitting on the bed next to this man I've just had sex with who really is not my Bail. How can I possibly talk about my Bail with this familiar stranger? "Oh, he's, um...I.... It's sort of complicated." I wince. That doesn't really sound very good. "But yes, I am fond of him."

He's looking at me with another expression I definitely recognize - one that says he knows what I'm thinking better than I do. I'd take issue with his presumption, except his hand is now sliding down off my shoulder and over my back. "That's good to know," he murmurs.

His other hand slips around my waist, and he's caressing me. It feels so good, so tender and delicious, and I can't help myself. I lean into his embrace, my hands sliding up the tanned planes of his arms. I watch him move closer, his face looming before me. My eyes flutter closed as I feel his hot breath on my mouth, the tip of his tongue flicking across my lips. He pulls me tightly against his chest and my mouth opens to admit him. I don't care anymore who he is, my Bail, some other Obi-Wan's Bail. I only care that he's kissing me like this, that he wants me, that this feels so good. I don't want to want this so much; it feels like a betrayal of my Bail. But I do want this.

He kisses me for an eternity of bliss, just this kiss that never ends, not pushing for anything else. Eventually I pull out of the kiss, but I don't let go of him. I touch my forehead to his, trying to gain control of my desire. "I'm not really your Obi-Wan, you know."

He sighs gently, his breath sweet. "And I want him back. But... I could get used to this. The way you...." He sighs again. "You're easier to be with, somehow."

I run my hands over his back, cradling him. "I know what you mean. But...maybe you're buried somewhere inside the Bail I know. And I'm in the Obi-Wan you know. I mean, even alternate realities can't be that different, can they?"

I can feel his lips move as he smiles against my cheek. "I'd like to think not."

"Right, so... we're just different aspects of the same personalities."

He rubs his cheek against mine. "I'll have to try to bring out your... gentleness... in my Ben."

That makes me think about my Bail, and how he might be like this Bail, and what the other Obi-Wan is thinking right now, and.... I stiffen in realization. "If I'm here, then your Ben must be with...." I gulp hard. "I wonder how long it will take them to figure it out?"

Bail's hands lie still on my back. "If your Bail is as lewd as my Ben, I wonder if they've stopped to talk at all."

I can feel myself turning red again. Dammit, I wish I wasn't so fair-skinned. "They may be busy for a while," I mumble.

"I wonder if the two of you will have to pass through the security screen at the same time to change places again," Bail muses. "And if they're going to be busy for a while, there's really no sense in having you leave just yet, is there?" He gives me a suggestive grin.

A grin which I return. "I suppose I'll just head on out when the timing seems right. Different aspects of the same personality -- hopefully we will coordinate across realities."

His grin widens. "We never got around to dinner. Are you hungry?"

I growl. "I can eat when I get home. I think we really ought to take advantage of the situation, here, don't you?"

"I was hoping you'd say that," he laughs, tightening his arms around me and pulling me back down onto the bed.


I brace myself as I approach the security screen, struggling to suppress the urge to cross my fingers for good luck. I take the final step, and...

... again feel that sickening lurch. My brain feels like it's being pulled out of my skull through my ears, and the next thing I know, I'm lying flat on my back, staring up at an anxious Mari, once more on the same side of the screen as me.

"It hasn't knocked anyone else out like it has you," she apologizes as she gives me a hand up.

"Maybe I'm more sensitive since I'm a Jedi," I mumble.

"You gonna be all right getting home?" she asks.

"Yes. Don't worry about me; I'm fine. But I do think that thing needs to be checked out."

She nods emphatically and bids me good night. I head on out to the landing pad to wait for a public transport. Above me, the vehicles speed by, weaving a tapestry of light. The nightscape looks the same, but who knows? What if I'm in yet another reality? The thought makes me feel ill.

I turn and look up at the building, trying to search out Bail's window. Is it my Bail up there? What is he thinking about all this? Is he worried about me? He probably is. I'm certainly worried, about him and me both.

I could go back up there. It would be kind of awkward, given who he was just with -- given who I was just with. But would waiting make it any less awkward? I could just call him on the commlink, but if it is my Bail up there, I really want to see him. This whole evening has been so bizarre. I want the solid reassurance of him, even if it means risking learning that I'm in yet another reality.

My mind made up, I reenter the building. Mari looks surprised to see me. "On second thought," I say, "I'm not really feeling too well. I'd like to go upstairs and lie down for awhile, but...." I glance at the screen. "Do you think you could shut that thing off?"

Mari purses her lips together in a smirk. "I'm willing to vouch for you as a security risk," she quips, flipping the screen off.

I step gratefully through and am quickly on my way up to Bail's floor. I pause at the door, then ring the chime.

A long minute passes before the door opens, and Bail's face peers warily out at me. But which Bail? I simply cannot tell.

We stare at one another, sizing each other up, both of us too afraid to say anything. At last I ask, "What did you have for dinner?"

He bites his lip. "Um... pasta with red sauce?"

I sigh, giddy with relief. "We had grilled cheese sandwiches."

He grins. "Did you cook?"

"Yes, did you?"

"No, that was him." A frown flickers across my face, and Bail flinches guiltily. "We, uh... we never got around to eating it."

I carefully school my features into a neutral expression. "Neither did we."

He raises a dark eyebrow at me.

"Are you going to let me in?" I ask.

"Do you want to come in?"

"Yes," I answer before he can finish asking the question. He takes a step back, and I follow him, not stopping until he's in my arms. The door slides shut behind me.

Before I can kiss him, he asks, "What was he like?"

I hesitate. "I'm not sure I really want to talk about it. Maybe some things are better left unsaid."

He nods once, then launches himself at me, kissing me hard. Now there's the Bail I know. I surrender to the kiss, wanting to drown the memories in this moment, and I start to drag him to the bedroom.

He breaks away and asks, "Was he a better lover than me?"

"Bail," I warn.

He laughs happily. "Ah, it's definitely you!"

"In the end, that Bail was you, and the other Obi-Wan was me. We were still the same people, from a certain point of view."

"Yes," he agrees. "Still, it wasn't quite the same, was it?"

"Not quite," I concede.

"I like you better."

I'm inordinately glad to hear that. "I like you better, too."

I lean in for another kiss, but Bail adds, "Still, it does make one wonder --"

"Bail," I warn again.

He smiles at me in docile surrender. "Yes, Obi-Wan."

I think about telling him that the other Bail didn't talk so much. I think about telling him that the other Bail appreciated the value of a good long kiss. I think about telling him that the other Bail wasn't nearly so full of himself.

I think about telling him, but I don't.

I decide to show him instead.


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