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geeks-universe · 4 years

Text

To The Stars...

Past Obi-Wan Kenobi x Jedi!Reader

Present Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) x Jedi!Reader

The One-Shot absolutely nobody asked for.

Italics for the past. Print for the present.

You were lost.

A fire had burned through every inch of your body, lighting each nerve burrowed beneath the red-hot agony engulfing your skin.

Pain.

It was all you knew, the entirety of what your fractured, scattered mind could piece together from the material it was given.

You cradled your body in the darkness, the brush of your hand against your arms hellish, blistering heat searing down your spine at the sensation.

Then it stopped.

Like the flame had been doused in a bucket of water, thoughts drowned in the sudden torrent of cool air. The burning was gone, replaced with the wispy smoke of unpleasant memories.

You opened your eyes, trying to ascertain your location to request for some sort of backup, or a possible extraction. Your head was pounding as light slowly filtered in, visions dancing like ghosts in the barren landscape around you. The cord that connected you to the life that breathed air into the atmosphere, that linked each soul to the ground they walked, was severed, like a knife to your very being. The constant, vibrant string in your mind, that tethered you to the creatures of the universe through the Force was quiet, muted as if the whole of existence was silenced.

“Zifri,” you choked out, your voice, raspy from the confines of pain, seeking out the presence of your Padawan.

As requested by the Jedi Council, you had entered the Temple of Aion, only to be locked within the confines. Your connection to the Force had pulsed through your veins, the rush of power mixing with the heat of destiny. The ground shook with possibilities, strings of fate illuminating the world around you. For a brief moment in time, you felt everything.

And then...

Nothing.

You had used the Force for many things throughout your life. Under the guidance of your master, you had learned to harness the abilities for both defense and offense, something typically advised against. Master Yoda understood the precariousness of your situation, and in an effort to gain mastery over the vastness of your abilities, had trained you in both Light and Dark.

When you were in the Temple of Aion though, you knew you had accessed a piece of the Force you’d never touched before.

The world you knew was gone.

“Zifri,” you repeated, louder, with more gusto as you grasped at any bit of the Force you could feel.

It was there, quiet, like a drum long forgotten. The lifeforms that dazzled the connection was gone, dimmed to a few scattered, unrealized potentials.

Something was wrong.

Upon realizing the startling truth that it wasn’t you who was disconnected with the Force, but rather the rest of the universe, you left in search of the truth.

“Master Kenobi.”

His lips tugged upwards in acknowledgment of your presence, a dangerous sign, to be sure. He hadn’t met you until a couple of years prior, but from that moment on, he knew he was in trouble.

You brought with you a sense of peace he could never hope to find in your absence. The Light seemed to radiate from your presence, and his connection to the Force flared to life with each accidental touch of your hand. He had never been so allured by another, and the enchantment seemed to grow with every passing hour.

“Starling.”

Your lips twitched down at the nickname. He’d taken to calling you it since your first meeting, and you still weren’t entirely sure why.

“That,” you crossed your arms over your chest, glaring at the man, “is not my name.”

The look on his face was far too mischievous for the esteemed Jedi Master. You felt the beginnings of a smile threaten to overcome your pout, and fought hard against it.

“And Master Kenobi isn’t mine,” he reminded you, mirroring your stance.

Your eyes narrowed, before you crossed the distance to give his shoulder a gentle shove. It hardly affected him, but the press of your hand against him, even muted by layers of clothing, sparked a fire down his spine.

“Obi,” you laughed. There was a brief pause, where your gazes met, affection exchanged, even through the desperate denials. “I got a Padawan!”

His smile widened. He’d known that you were to be assigned a Padawan. You had finished your Jedi training in record time, and there was no doubt that you could guide a fresh face on their journey, even if they were more than half your age.

“Hopefully your Padawan listens more than Anakin,” Obi-Wan joked.

He was caught off guard when you threw yourself into his arms. It wasn’t the reaction he was expecting, but he was quick to return the sentiment.

“I know you advocated for me,” you whispered, your breath hot against his ear.

A piece of his training chipped away that day. How could he believe that holding you in his arms, giving into the affection he had for you, was so wrong when nothing in the world had ever felt more right?

“Always,” he replied, voice not above a murmur.

The other words he wished to speak, the feelings he wished to reveal, died in his throat. Today, he would not break the Jedi Code.

He could not speak for tomorrow, though.

Slowly, through frightened whispers or reverent murmurs, you pieced together the chronicle of the reality you awoke to.

30 years.

A full 30 years had passed.

When you were in the Temple of Aion though, you knew you had accessed a piece of the Force you’d never touched before.

With the power that resonated at your core, and the energy that hummed in the quiet halls of the Temple of Aion, you had been able to step through time.

Master Yoda had always claimed you had a destiny, one you could never fully comprehend, but you hadn’t expected it to include time travel.

Anakin.

Anakin Skywalker.

The very same man you had grown close to, had both learned from and mentored, was responsible for the desolation of your people. It seared your heart to learn the truth.

And Obi-Wan.

Your Obi-Wan, a soul so full of Light, forced to shoulder the burden of guiding, and loving, the man accountable for the atrocities committed against the Jedi. It pained you to think of how alone he must’ve felt in a galaxy he’d spent his life protecting. He was suddenly without his Order, without his closest friend, and without you, his lover.

How would things have changed if you were there?

Would you have perished with the other Jedi, or would you have survived, forced to live a life without the structure you’d become accustomed to?

What happened to your Master? To your Padawan? To Ahsoka?

You sighed, holding the bowl of steaming broth you were sipping on a little closer.

Your hunt for others was not going well. You weren’t even sure if there were anymore Jedi. The silence in your mind through the Force had become deafening, and you couldn’t take it anymore. It was driving you to the brink of insanity, living so long with a string connecting you to the other lifeforms that the sudden disappearance of them was startling.

So, you cut your connection to the Force.

It was painful, and every day a piece of you desperately called out to it, to reconnect your soul, but you held firm.

“Jedi.”

It was a mutter, spoken in a quiet conversation a few seats down, but you still heard it. Curiosity got the best of you, and the small spark of hope stirred deep in your gut.

Against better judgement, you followed the Mandalorian who had inquired about Jedi out of the establishment, and towards, what you presumed to be, his ship. The Mandalorian in question was cautious, looking over his shoulder with every step he took. Had you not been as well trained as you were, you more than likely would have slipped up and ousted yourself.

Alas, you managed to navigate your way through the bustling streets of some backwater planet while keeping your identity concealed from the vigilant Mandalorian.

“Starling!”

Obi-Wan had taken to calling you his ever-affectionate nickname more so than your given name. Typically, though, the endearment was saved for teasing mutters, or mirthful mumbles.

The two syllables had never been filled with such worry before, and the instincts you’d adopted in your years of training flared to life. Ahsoka was beside you, having been volunteered to stay with the unit by her esteemed Master Skywalker.

Zifri, your Padawan, had gone with Obi-Wan and Anakin. Having as many Jedis (Padawans included) had seemed a bit overkill, especially with Master Windu already stationed at a nearby base, but as an assault began to rain down around you and young Ahsoka, you quickly realized why.

The enemy was fierce, unrelenting, and incalculable in size. Rex’s unit was with you and Ahsoka, but following Obi-Wan’s warning, he and the rest of the backup were effectively cut off.

The twin sabers in your hand sprang to life, purple light reflecting in the harshness of your gaze.

“Get her to safety,” you ordered, holding the frontline as the enemy poured the brunt of their resources into your position. “Now!”

Rex jumped at the suddenness of your command. He offered a brief nod, before he signalled his troops to fall back, and tried to get Ahsoka to do the same.

She stood firm, refusing to leave you.

“We’re stronger together,” Ahsoka argued, unsheathing her lightsabers in a valiant attempt to provide assistance.

Time froze, just for a fraction of a second, as you smiled at the young Padawan. She was a fast learner, and fiercely loyal. If you asked, she would stay, and she would fall. Your heart squeezed in your chest as you eyed the facility the enemy were housed in. If you could get inside, you could buy enough time for Ahsoka, Rex, and the entire unit.

Your decision was made before you ever made a move to enact it.

You thought of Obi-Wan then, as you forced the young Padawan backwards, and charged forward into the enemy.

He would be proud.

“What do you know of the Jedi?”

The words had barely left your mouth before a blaster was being pointed directly at you.

You eyed it cautiously, blinking.

“What are you doing on my ship?” The helmet made the Mandalorian’s voice a bit mechanical, but there was no denying the hostility in it.

“I asked first,” you held your hands up in surrender, a bit too much cheek.

“This is my ship,” the man before you felt the need to remind you.

“Well, yes,” you answered lamely, spying the little guy that peeked out from behind the man’s cape.

Your eyes widened, recognition flashing across your features as a face similar to your beloved master revealed itself. You took a step back inadvertently, your heart fracturing in your chest as a gentle gaze tore open old wounds.

The child cooed, carefully stepping around the Mandalorian to approach you. A part of him recognized the Force inside you, you were sure, as his tiny hand reached out for you.

In a daze, you bent down to meet him.

A stillness grew in the air, like the world was holding its breath, waiting to see the interaction.

The Child was attempting to make contact with you- not just physically, but through the Force too- and panic rose in you at the thought. Alerts blared red throughout your systems as you physically recoiled. The little guy wasn’t deterred though, and despite your absolute withdrawal from him through the Force, his small hand wrapped around your fingers.

He made a noise, one that could be interpreted as friendly, and looked back to the Mandalorian. The Mandalorian, for his part, had been patient during the exchange, but his finger hadn’t been removed from the trigger, an obvious sign of his mistrust.

“Who are you?”

His voice echoed in the small space of the ship. You cleared your throat.

“I heard you talking about Jedi,” you mentioned, holding onto the creature that looked so similar to your Master. “I’m looking for them.”

A pause.

“Why?”

You considered the question. Your identity had been a closely guarded secret. After all, you still weren’t entirely sure why you’d been propelled 30 years into the future, so you made the decision to keep quiet on the subject. This was no exception.

“I want to know what happened to my family,” you gave a half-truth.

If he wondered why the Jedi would know, he didn’t question it.

“The kid seems to like you.”

It was an observation, though you could tell it was one he took to heart. The Mandalorian may have thought the kid had good intuition, but you knew it was his connection to the Force.

“I can help you.”

The twin lightsabers that were concealed in your robes burned, the handles icy to the touch from disuse, yet flaming with the sudden desire to be the person you had trained to be. They, too, had been untouched in the year that had passed since your sudden upheaval.

“...Okay.”

He was reluctant, and you were sure if it wasn’t for the pleading eyes of the youngling, he would’ve outright refused. He didn’t seem like the kind of man to embrace company, and you weren’t the type that liked to impose, but if there was a possibility of you finding a Jedi, you needed to take it.

“Perfect.”

“You can’t blame yourself, Snips.”

“If I had just-”

“My Master is as stubborn as she is strong, you wouldn’t have gotten through.”

“Rest, we must allow her. Watch over her, Master Kenobi will.”

The voices you’d been listening to had faded, and you were barely able to open your eyes to register why that was.

“Easy,” the familiar articulation above you was fraught with apprehension.

“Obi?” You inquired softly, his face a blur as you tried to adjust your vision more properly.

“Starling,” he breathed, relief palpable in the drawl he spoke with. The air grew lighter at the nickname, and you felt the tension melt from your body.

“Is everyone okay?”

Obi-Wan visibly flinched at the question. Hesitantly, after a moment of contemplation, he nodded. A smile began to tug at your lips and- despite your body heavily protesting the action, muscles groaning at the strain- you sat up.

“I’m sorry, I know-”

“It was reckless,” Obi-Wan reprimanded, staring down at where his fingers tapped against the edge of the bed. He had an air of agitation, but there was something else deep beneath his facade that you couldn’t quite read.

“It was necessary to save the people I…”

His eyes snapped to you, imploring- no, begging- you to continue. Your voice went quiet, the atmosphere weighed down with the words you struggled to utter. You ran your tongue along your teeth.

“The people I love.”

Obi-Wan let the words simmer between the two of you. He was digesting them, critiquing them, and then embracing them. The beating of his heart matched the erratic thumping of yours.

“I was terrified,” he admitted on a whisper, as if divulging a secret. “But proud.”

The Child was still reaching out to you.

You had been vigilant in your effort to remain disconnected to the Force. With him so nearby, and more days passing without the connection so integral to your person, your defenses were struggling, but you refused to relent.

The kid knew it too.

A deep sadness reflected in his glossy gaze, chipping away at the armor you had locked around your heart. You stared at yourself through his eyes, at how battle hardened you looked. Throughout the Clone Wars, you had been an esteemed general, but you had a family- if not by blood, by choice- that kept you grounded. Since your stint with time travel, you had been alone, and as unfair as it was to leave the kid on his own, you couldn’t open yourself back up yet.

There was pain without the Force, but dammit, you didn’t know if you could handle the fresh hell your connection to it brought.

“I’m sorry, kiddo,” you apologized, holding your hand out for him.

He took it, waddling closer to better inspect you. He was desperate for the attachment you were denying. It likely had to do with the tidbit of information Mando had given you. He said the kid was 50, which meant, technically speaking, you were only five years his senior. Though, you didn’t really consider yourself to be the 55 the timeline suggested, considering you skipped 30 of those years, which left you with the appearance and memories of a 25 year old.

“Why the sorcerers?” The low, mechanical baritone of the Mandalorian asked from the doorway, his body sturdy and intimidating.

He had grown a fair bit on you, especially considering the long and bloody past between Jedi and Mandalorians. The look you pulled following his description of Jedi was one of indignation, however.

“Sorcerers?” You echoed, the words distasteful on your tongue. “Jedi are not magic. The Force isn’t some- some-”

Your argument was crashing, as you realized just how much you were implying about your past with each word used in defense of the Jedi. The Mandalorian had been suspicious, and you replying as spirited as you did, did nothing to convince him otherwise.

You cleared your throat.

“The Jedi are an ancient and respectable order tasked with maintaining balance across the universe,” you explained calmly, refusing to stare at the blank, chrome exterior of the beskar helmet the Mandalorian wore.

Instead, you looked at the youngling.

“I’m not entirely sure there are any left, but their memory still deserves admiration.”

The Child cocked his head to the side, like he was digesting the bit of information you’d given. Mando, however, let the silence breathe for a moment.

“Did you know any?”

You pressed your fingers to the baby’s cheek, a ghost of a smile curving on your lips at the reminder of the people you had surrounded yourself with.

“Many,” you admitted softly.

Mando had taken a step towards you, bending down to level himself with you. He reached out towards the Child, offering him a bit of warmth, as he assessed you beneath the armor he wore.

You wondered then- certainly not for the first time- what he looked like. You hadn’t had a whole lot of interactions with Mandalorians in the past. Between training, both your own training and your Padawan’s training, and your individual role within the Clone Wars, it hadn’t ever really occurred. Most of what you knew was what Obi-Wan had told you, and the occasional excited recount Ahsoka had regaled you with.

“Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum,” the words were purposeful as they left the Mandalorian’s mouth, and though you weren’t quite sure of their meaning, you knew they were said with the intention of honoring the unmentioned Jedi you’d lost.

Your heart skipped a beat, and the coo the kid had released was softer than normal, like he was mourning your loss too.

You rested your hand on Mando’s, holding it against the small chest of the kid.

“There is no death, there is the Force.”

The Child perked up in recognition of the final words of the Jedi Code. He, like Mando, did not interrupt the moment. The culmination of two cultures, so starkly different from one another, were weaving together in the small child. While this might suggest some amount of concern, you could only see a chance to transcend the mistakes of history.

“Thank you,” you mumbled to the bounty hunter.

None of you moved, and for a quiet moment in time, all was right with the world.

“Focused, you must remain.”

Master Yoda was being cautious, trying to keep you on task, but worry was beginning to seep into your actions. You’d finished the Trials, and you were a fully fledged Master- with a Padawan currently under your care- but your training was still ongoing.

The Jedi Council wasn’t taking any chances with the sheer power you displayed in regards to the Force. If it weren’t for Master Yoda and Obi-Wan, the Council may not have even allowed your training to progress. They were concerned about the training, especially when Yoda revealed that he had been training you with Force abilities tied to the Dark side.

“I think-,” you sighed in frustration, “Maybe I need the day off.”

Master Yoda considered the request, and then conceded when he realized how deep your fear ran. Power bred fear, and he never wanted you to fear your own gifts.

“Time, you should take. Return, we will, after some rest.”

You bowed, then scampered away as quickly as you could. Tears began to blur your vision, as you ran to safety. Your feet were moving on their own accord, pulling you towards security- which, incidentally, brought you to Obi-Wan’s quarters.

You paused briefly, wondering if it was a good idea. The two of you had been growing close, toeing the line of what was allowed, and what was forbidden. Before you could turn away and retreat into less dangerous territory, Obi-Wan opened the door.

Concern was etched into the furrow of his brow, and the downturn of his lips looked unnatural in comparison to the joy he typically radiated around you. Without thinking, or even considering possible consequences, you shut the door and fell into his embrace.

It wasn’t the first time the two of you had been so close before, but every time you were, it drew you one step closer to engaging in feelings deemed off limits by the Jedi Council.

“Is there anything I can do?” Obi-Wan’s voice was soft, but fierce.

You pulled back just a fraction to meet his eyes.

It was the way he looked at you, like there wasn’t anything more sacred in the world than you. Your heart stuttered against your chest, and you surged forward, your lips meeting his in a long overdue kiss.

He responded like he’d been waiting his entire life for it. There was no hesitation, no worry, and no doubt about his feelings.

You knew that would come after, but for the moment, you had each other.

“Do you have a name?”

The Mandalorian leveled you with a stare. Even without seeing his face, you knew the expression he bore was something close to absolute bewilderment.

It’d been nearly seven weeks since you boarded the Razor Crest. The Mandalorian and you had grown somewhat closer, but he was guarded and you were secretive. The Child had taken to you immediately, drawn by the Force, and charmed with your sweet voice.

“Do you?”

You pursed your lips.

“Touché.”

Silence reigned supreme once more, save for the occasional coos of the Child. He was secure in your lap, alternating his hands between holding yours or reaching for something on the console.

“(Y/N),” you finally broke the silence, steadfastly ignoring his gaze as you focused on the little guy. The Child looked up to you curiously, tilting his head as he mumbled a vague string of syllables that sounded somewhat like your name mixed with babble.

“(Y/N),” the Mandalorian echoed. It felt nice to hear him say it, the way he pronounced it carefully, taking care to taste the name on his tongue.

“I think I should be more cautious with my identity,” you admitted, gesturing to his helmet. “We don’t really know what we’re walking into.”

Mando thought on the idea for a brief moment, before he huffed his assent.

“You can call me Starling,” you interrupted on a whim, almost regretting it the second the word left your mouth. “It’s an old nickname,” you explained, curling in on yourself at the way the Mandalorian watched you.

“Starling it is,” he said finally.

If he found your behavior odd, he didn’t comment. In fact, he wasn’t the least bit phased when you donned a mask to show him. It was a darker shade of silver than the chrome armor he wore, and there were intricate designs carved into the metal, the same carvings the hilt of your lightsabers bore. It would render you completely unseen, and thus a bit safer until you could discern whether the Jedi in question could be trusted with the truth or not.

Mando routed the ship for a new destination, flipping levers and pressing buttons like it was second nature. He didn’t pause, and his voice was so quiet you almost missed the soft utterance, but you heard it nonetheless.

“Din.”

“We’ll see them again.”

Every ounce of strength and faith was released into that short sentence, a gentle reminder to the man you loved of your capabilities.

He studied you, tracing every inch of your face like it was the last time he’d see you, and he needed to memorize the curve of your cheeks, or the slope of your nose.

“I know we will.”

He tried to echo the sentiment of your voice, but it fell short. He was beginning to believe that your recent endeavor had taken a turn for the worst, and that the two of you might not find your way off the godforsaken planet you crashed into as easily as you believed you would. With the woods crawling with enemy droids, and not a single friend in sight, it wasn’t a horrible assumption.

“Obi,” you pressed, resting your hand against his cheek to get his attention. It worked. “We’re going to get out of this.”

It wasn’t often the man before you lacked the strength to carry hope, but in the times that he did, you were the only person that could spark conviction in him.

“What would I do without you?”

It wasn’t a question meant to be answered. He had found himself wondering what a life outside of the Order might be like since the day you kissed him- perhaps even longer, if he were honest with himself. A part of him longed to be selfish, to keep you from the world.

He knew then, though, or maybe he’d always known, your destiny was larger than him. You were born to soar above the fears and expectations of the Jedi Order. You were born to live a life of your own, not one defined by him, and he felt himself fighting a losing battle, trying to hold onto you for as long as he could.

It had come out as a rhetorical question- but, deep down, he knew the truth: one day you would be without him, and he wasn’t sure he’d have the strength to carry on.

You, though, were resilient.

You could carry on.

He needed you to.

Faded, silvery lines painted a picture on your back.

Each was a scar, a tragedy of a life long forgotten. There was a large print in the form of a gash from where you’d narrowly escaped a crashed ship, or a thin line that spanned the length of your shoulders from being thrown across a battlefield. The memories that came from the stories they told weren’t always pleasant. They were reminders of who you were and where you’d been, even if you were trying to run from the past, and deny the existence of the person you’d once been intimately familiar with.

There was a new scar too.

This one was where your shoulder met your collarbone. It was an angry, red wound that hadn’t quite scarred yet, but was just beginning to show the puckering of a lasting injury. You’d jumped in the line of fire to protect the youngling. Before that, you’d been effortlessly weaving through enemies, cutting them down with a staff you’d wrestled from the first to jump at you.

Would this scar prompt the same feelings the others did in the future?

You sighed, meeting your own gaze in the mirror. You looked different. Not in the sense that you’d drastically changed on the outside, but the way you carried yourself was different.

You had never been one to strictly follow the Jedi Code, but there wasn’t a trace of Jedi left in you anymore. The hope that used to light your eyes, the wonder that settled on your brow, the joy that tugged at your lips- it was all gone, replaced with a heaviness you couldn't quite carry.

A curse sounded from beside you, and the sudden appearance of Mando startled you. Despite what his exterior, and copious amount of armor, might suggest, the man moved surprisingly quiet when he wanted to.

You didn’t bother to shield your body at the sudden intrusion. You were decent enough where you weren’t exposed, but more skin was on display than normal. Mando awkwardly shuffled in place, torn between leaving and checking on you.

“I’m fine, if that’s why you’re here,” you decided for him, ghosting your fingers along the new wound.

“Good,” he muttered. Though his helmet shielded the direction of his eyes, you could feel his stare run the length of the skin on your back.

He had questions. They filled the silence, pressing the void with the desire to voice them, but not the strength required to.

“They’re from another life,” you explained, gazing at him through the mirror.

A breath.

“I was a-” you paused, changing the direction of the conversation last minute. “A general. War isn’t easy.”

Din inclined his head, the barest gesture of acknowledgement. Even though he wasn’t speaking, and not offering physical comfort, his presence made you feel at ease, like he could understand some amount of the pain you felt.

You turned to him then, cautious steps bringing you closer until you were nearly chest to chest- or chest to abdomen, if you were being honest with your height. Din hadn’t moved an inch, though his helmet was tilted down, and you knew beneath it, the eyes of a hunter were watching every movement you made.

Carefully, you lifted a hand to the side of his helmet, pressing it against the cool beskar, in direct opposition to the heat of your skin. It reminded you of your Order, and his, and the conflicting views of the two, how different it had formed you both. Though, you hadn’t really felt the opposite of him, but rather complimentary, like your opinions and actions lifted him up, and vice versa.

“Thank you, Din.”

By the time he’d really processed what you said, you were out of sight, leaving him alone in the dark, with nothing but the heat rising to his cheeks at your actions.

The Jedi Code was in place for a reason.

You knew that.

Obi-Wan knew that.

Yet it hadn’t stopped the affection from blossoming.

The early lights of a rising sun crept in through the window, shining down on the two of you, still entwined and bare from the previous night’s events. He pressed a kiss to your shoulder, heated skin meeting his lips in an action that spoke more than he ever could.

‘I love you’- not spoken in so many words, but conveyed through the soft brush of his hand, or the gentle press of his mouth.

Time was your enemy, so long as you continued down this path, and you knew it wouldn’t last forever. Eventually, the Jedi Council would become aware of the blooming relationship. They would punish you. You would probably lose your Padawan, and maybe even your status. Obi-Wan would be in a similar situation, and as much as you wanted to care, it was difficult to.

He meant everything to you, and you meant everything to him. Nothing in the world made more sense than being together.

“We have to get up soon,” Obi-Wan reminded you, not quite ready to give up on the charade.

You understood. There was Anakin, Ahsoka, and Zifri to worry about.

“I know,” you agreed on a hum, running your fingers through his hair. His eyes slipped shut at the sensation, as they often did.

“Master Windu spoke of a mission you’re going on?” Obi-Wan inquired, his tone quiet as he reveled in your attention.

“Mmm,” you murmured, holding a kiss to his forehead, “The Temple of Aion, just a quick trip.”

“Be careful,” he warned, holding your hand in his.

The words he should’ve said stayed silent, waiting for a different opportunity that would never come. That would be the last time you saw Obi-Wan, though you didn’t know it at the time.

Or maybe you had known, deep down, as you ran your fingers along his lips, committing his face to memory- so expressive and filled with love.

That was goodbye.

Bo-Katan had mentioned Ahsoka, and you had barely been able to breathe from that moment forward.

Din had picked up on the change in attitude. He wanted to ask about it, but he wasn’t one to pry. Instead, he’d been silently lending you strength.

The flight had gone off without a hitch, and typically you’d be thankful for the lack of interruptions, but the quiet had been slowly descending you towards a maddening cycle of imagining how Ahsoka would react to the revelation of your fate. Your imagination wasn’t being kind, and you were nearly convinced that she would blame you for everything that had happened with Anakin and the Jedi Order.

Your sweet, stubborn Ahsoka, who had meant so much to you, that you would willingly lay down your life for her. Would she think you a traitor? Would she understand what you’d gone through?

The tiny, gentle hands of the kid interrupted your thinking. His wide eyes were directed at you, and you could feel the Force inside you thump against the confines of your chest to get to him.

Ahsoka would know.

Even with your self-induced severance to the Force, she would know it was you, with or without the mask.

What would be the point then?

Should you tell Mando and the kid?

After all, they were searching for a Jedi to train the kid, and you were a fully-fledged Jedi, who, through a series of unfortunate events, had lost their Padawan. One of the kid’s own kind, Master Yoda, had been your teacher. For all intents and purposes, you were the perfect teacher for the kid. Mando wouldn’t need to be separated, and you could rekindle the fire of hope that the loss of the Jedi Order doused.

You would tell them, then. You would restore your connection to the Force, and you would aid Din, but only after you reunited with Ahsoka.

The kid, as if sensing your resolution, gave you a toothy smile. It pulled at your heart, reminding you of your own Master.

Tears welled in your eyes, and the gentleness of the creature before you, the worry, caused them to fall.

You mourned your people- Master Yoda, who taught you, Anakin, who joked with you, Zifri, who looked to you for guidance, and Obi-Wan, who loved you unconditionally.

You mourned the ever-progressing change that had transformed the galaxy from the one you knew, to the one you now learned.

And you mourned yourself- the girl full of hope, who found faith in the people around her, and spent her whole life trying to make the world a better place.

Din found you like that, holding tight to the Child while you let yourself mourn what you’d lost one last time before facing the future.

He didn’t know the full extent of your past, just as you didn’t know his, but the secrets kept in the dark of the night hadn’t distanced either of you.

“Ready?” He inquired.

You nodded, propping the kid on your hip as you stood to your full height, forgoing the mask you’d been wearing entirely.

You wouldn’t hide your identity any longer. The world wouldn’t scare you into submission. You were a Jedi, and it was high time you started to act like one.

There was a brief hesitation before Din’s gloved hand slipped into yours, igniting a strength you’d long since thought was gone.

You smiled down at the kid, and then where your hand met Din’s.

You’d been lost for so long, but now-

Now you were found.

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