#i wonder if ani knows that obi got shipped off to the agricorp thing?

[uniqueshoebakeryweasel]

This is my @jedijune fanfiction. This is totally late and I have absolutely no excuse for it so I apologize! I had fun trying to figure out how Anakin’s brain works for this fic, because he’s such a chaotic force and I don’t really understand him at all! Constructive criticism is very welcome! Thanks and I hope you enjoy!💙

Prompt 2: Lightsaber

It was official. Anakin was about to die. He had only been a Padawan for about a year and now he would never fulfill any of his hopes or dreams. He would never become a Jedi Knight or Master, he would never get to see his mother again, never get a chance to free her and tell her how much progress he had made. He wouldn’t be able to free all of the slaves on Tatooine. And he would never get to explore the whole wide galaxy!

After all his thoughts of how he would go out if he ever did, this wasn’t what Anakin expected. He thought that if he ever died it would be in the midst of a large battle - he would die heroically saving countless people, Jedi included. Obi-Wan would finally see how good he really was, and in Anakin’s last moments Obi-Wan would apologize for holding him back and teaching him useless things like breathing exercises and boring meditation techniques. Even in his head, however, Anakin usually assumed he would survive whatever wound had led Obi-Wan to apologize to him, so that he could go on to become the grand master of the Jedi, as well as a most loved hero of the galaxy!

Now Anakin knew that that wouldn’t come to pass. Instead, he was doomed to die as a Jedi Padawan, here on a small planet where he and Obi-Wan had been sent as peacekeepers.

Obi-Wan and Anakin had chased an assassin who had attempted to kill one of the leaders within the negotiations at the time. Somewhere along the way they had gotten separated, which led to Anakin stumbling into the bind that he was currently in. He had almost caught the assassin on his own, but he got cocky and the assassin took advantage of that. He had caught Anakin on top of one of the buildings, and after a few minutes he had managed to push Anakin off the edge. Anakin had fallen onto a balcony a ways down, and discovered that the building wasn’t finished being built and there was no exit from the level he was on. He wasn’t yet skilled or experienced enough to find a way out, although he had tried, and nearly fallen off of the balcony in an attempt to climb down. So there he was - stuck, mildly injured, and waiting for his terrible fate to come to pass.

Anakin knew he was being dramatic, however - death would be too quick a punishment to be suitable for such a mistake. Maybe Obi-Wan would realize that he was indeed too young to be a Padawan and would demote him to be a youngling for a few years. Maybe he would be sent away! Anakin overheard a few Padawans talking about some type of agricorp that their friend had been sent to? Apparently if a youngling wasn’t chosen by their thirteenth birthday they were sent away… who knew?

Just then Anakin heard the sound of engines outside of the building and looked up in time to see a quaint ship carefully lining up by the balcony that he had fallen onto earlier. He panicked as he saw it, his imagination going into overdrive as he thought of the probable consequences of his actions. What if Obi-Wan simply kicked him out of the temple and left him to try and survive! What if he decided to just leave him on this foreign planet where the people spoke a dialect that he didn’t understand? What if they decided he was better suited to Tatooine and dropped him off back at Watto’s shop??

His mother would be so disappointed! Obi-Wan would glare at him in that way that would look rather neutral to outsiders, but if you were on the receiving end of it you would just Know that you were about to regret whatever you just did. The other Padawans would laugh at him for his idiocy and tell him it proved that he was never worthy, just like they always said. What if…

Anakin’s thoughts and wild imagination were cut off by his name being called out from the direction of the ship. Looking up from the ground - when had he started looking at the ground instead of the ship? - he saw the ship's ramp had lowered and suddenly Obi-Wan was safely on the balcony, looking at him with… was that worry in his eyes? No, that couldn’t be right, and it would quickly change when he realized the magnitude of what Anakin had done.

“Are you alright, Anakin? It’s unlike you to be this quiet,” Obi-Wan questioned as he swiftly paced forward to stand in front of his young Padawan. For once in his life, Anakin was unable to come up with any response, sarcastic or not. So he simply looked back at the ground, hoping wistfully that it could just swallow him up and end his suffering.

He glanced up briefly when he heard Obi-Wan stepping closer. His brow was creased and he was scanning Anakin over for, presumably, injuries. However, Anakin knew that he would only find some cuts and bruises from the fall, and maybe from the brief scuffle he had had with the assassin.

After what seemed like ages but was probably only a few seconds, Obi-Wan seemed satisfied that he wasn’t terribly hurt, and gestured for Anakin to follow him into their ship.

Once inside, Anakin swiftly strapped himself into the copilot's seat, and promptly smashed his face against the window as he stubbornly stared outside to avoid Obi-Wan concerned glances as he began to pilot the ship back to the room they were staying at. Anakin assumed that meant that the assassin got away, which certainly didn’t help his mood.

For some reason, Obi-Wan allowed him to stay silent the whole trip back, which admittedly wasn’t that long, only a few minutes, but still… Anakin grudgingly appreciated it, not that Obi-Wan ever needed to know that, and as soon as the ship landed on the roof of their building, Anakin hopped out scarcely before the ramp was even lowered, and scurried inside to clean up. Before he made it up the stairs to the refresher, however, he was stopped by Obi-Wan, who placed a gentle but firm hand on his shoulder just as he was about to skulk off to the refresher.

“Stay here for now, Anakin,” Obi-Wan instructed before swiftly moving to the kitchen to prepare both of them some tea.

Their accommodations were small and simple so the kitchen was little more than a few cabinets and appliances in the corner of the room. Anakin huffed and moodily sat down on the steps that he had been about to climb. Obi-Wan put on the teapot and as he waited for the water to heat up, he glanced at Anakin over his shoulder.

“What happened?”

It was a simple question, and yet it was what Anakin had been dreading since he had fallen onto the balcony. Obi-Wan had turned back to face the teapot so Anakin had a chance to gather the courage to speak.

He finally decided it would be better to get it over with, so glaring (pouting) at the floor, he shot out, “I lost my lightsaber!”

Once he realized that he had actually admitted to such a crime his head shot up to look at Obi-Wan, his eyes going impossibly wide, and he started rambling, “it was an accident I promise, the assassin pushed me off of a building and I landed on that balcony and I didn’t even notice at first but it must’ve fallen off or something because I couldn’t find it anywhere, and I’m really sorry! Please don’t be mad, don’t send me back to Tatooine..”

“Anakin!” Obi-Wan cut him off when it was clear that he wouldn't stop. “Calm yourself, my young Padawan. Why do you think I would ever send you back to Tatooine?” Obi-Wan pinned Anakin with an incredulous gaze as he turned around to fully face him.

Anakin squirmed uncomfortably and grimaced as he replied. “Well, you’ve told me before that my lightsaber is my life, and that I have to be mindful of it at all times, and you’ve told me specifically not to misplace it, because I would be in trouble if I did…”

Obi-Wan sighed, and started working on brewing their tea as the teapot had just started whistling. “Please listen to me, Anakin. Nothing you do could change the fact that you are my family and I love you - I would never send you away for any reason. You’re my Padawan - it’s my duty and my honor to train, protect, and guide you into the life of a Jedi. I care about you and I just want to help you build the skills and habits that will help you be safe with or without me there to help you. That doesn’t mean that you will never make mistakes, but it is my job to help you lessen the chances of those mistakes happening.”

Anakin hadn’t looked up from the floor the entire time Obi-Wan was talking, but he looked up when he heard the clinking of two mugs being placed on a table. Obi-Wan strode to the steps he was sitting (most definitely not skulking) on and took a seat next to him. He waited a moment for Anakin to look up at him and gave him a small smile, before pulling something out of his robes. It was… Anakin's lightsaber!! Anakin's eyes widened and he leapt to his feet, shooting his head up to gape at Obi-Wan in awe.

Obi-Wan chuckled at his reaction. “You have much potential - however, you are still a new Padawan, and your Force shielding isn’t as thorough as it someday will be. You panicked when you lost your lightsaber and I felt you try to block me from our training bond, but you only managed to dull what you were feeling, so it was fairly easy to deduce what had happened. When I came to get you, I stopped by the base of the building and found it before I picked you up.“ Obi-Wan gave him a stern look, “I tell you not to lose your lightsaber because it is your life. I just want you to be safe. We will discuss this later, and meditate on it together.”

He ignored Anakin’s groan of annoyance and continued, “Tomorrow. I think you’ve had enough excitement for tonight, so for now, enjoy your tea. You did well, Anakin.”

Much love to the wonderful and talented muffin @imaginaryrobin for being my ever patient beta reader and illustrator!!

Your art looks as spectacular as always!💙

[glimmerglanger]

Anakin/Obi-Wan 22, please and than you.

Ohhh! Sorry I didn’t finish this yesterday but it got, uh, a bit out of control. Written for the meme (#22 “What do you mean by leaving?”)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What do you mean by leaving?” Obi-Wan asked, looking up from the last grave, the one they’d just got done filling with their bare hands. The soil was heavy and caked over the blisters worn into his palms, caught under his nails, torn now and ragged. The ground had been frozen and didn’t want to give. He looked over at Anakin, feeling exhausted, beyond exhausted, from the cruel labor of the last few days.

“I mean going somewhere not here,” Anakin said, not looking at Obi-Wan. His jaw was clenched beneath the stubble growing across his skin. His face was smeared with dirt, his hair matted down by blood and sweat.

Obi-Wan stared at him. Exhaustion and pain were making his thoughts slow. His ribs ached so fiercely. They had since the crash. He’d been ignoring them. There’d be so much else to do… The injured to tend to, to keep comfortable, until they finally lost the fight to keep them alive. The dead to bury, out here in this hard, frozen earth….

“Where?” Obi-Wan asked, pushing slowly to his feet, wincing and curling an arm across his ribs. There was no one to put on a brave face for, just Anakin, and he looked like he was hurting just as much.

They were the only survivors left from the wreck. Cody they’d lost the night before. The others���

Well. Obi-Wan looked over the row of neat graves and felt something inside his chest aching that had nothing to do with his ribs.

“I don’t know,” Anakin said, shaking his head. “There’s got to be some way off of this rock. I’m going to find it.”

“There’s nothing on ‘this rock,’” Obi-Wan said, limping back towards the remains of their ship. It had sheared in half on the way down. They’d made a crude shelter out of what was left, more a lean-to than anything. R2, badly damaged, warbled at him as he approached. “We saw that much before we crashed.”

“So, what,” Anakin said, a snap in his voice, “we should just sit here, then, that’s your plan?”

“When you’re lost, you wait where someone will find you,” Obi-Wan said, sinking slowly down onto the area of ground that he’d claimed as his bed. He hadn’t slept, really, since the crash four days ago. There hadn’t been time. “If we go off into the woods, no one will know where we are when the rescue ship comes.”

“And if we stay here, a rescue ship may never come. There’s a whole planet out there, Obi-Wan. There’s got to be technology somewhere. I’m going to go find it.” He looked at Obi-Wan, briefly, and then away once more.

Obi-Wan winced, gingerly stretching out his legs. “Anakin, there’s nothing out there. We need to--”

“Stay here, then,” Anakin snapped, turning on his heel, radiating hurt and anger and a hundred other emotions. “I’ll come back and find you when I’ve found a way to get us off of this kriffing rock.”

Obi-Wan called after him, but Anakin didn’t turn back, didn’t even hesitate. And Obi-Wan could have ran after him. Might have, once. But he was so tired. So very tired, and hurt inside, and he was right, anyway.

Someone had to stay with the ship, for when rescue came.

“It’s just you and I now, R2,” he said, and the droid warbled back at him, going staticy halfway through.

#

Rescue didn’t come. And it didn’t come. And it didn’t come.

Obi-Wan kept busy, waiting for it. He drove off the scavengers that tried to disturb the graves and did his best to patch up the still functioning systems in their ship. He’d never had any skill with mechanics, but R2 helped. Obi-Wan carried the damaged droid into the remains of the cockpit every day, plugging it in as it requested, listening to it speak a language he didn’t understand.

Between the two of them, they managed to set up something that Obi-Wan believed would serve as a distress beacon. He had no idea how long the power source would last, but surely they’d be rescued before the cell could run down.

Surely they would.

While he waited, he researched the surrounding world. He had little choice. They’d lost most of their supplies in the crash and starvation held little appeal. They’d landed in a temperate area, at least, with a variety of plant growth and even some animals, returning as the winter began to fade.

He tested different plants, eating them sparingly, trying to determine which ones were edible. Some things he ate left him ill, vomiting over and over, until there was nothing left inside him to come up and still he could not stop. He considered, seriously, that he might die from eating a poisonous plant, all alone, and laughed hoarsely.

He carefully noted the plants that made him ill, when he recovered, and avoided them in the future.

The days he marked on the inside of the ship, drawing a little hatch mark for each sunrise that he lived to see. He shivered on the day he finished a row of a hundred, looking into the cockpit, at the blinking light of their rescue beacon.

Someone had to come for them.

Sooner or later.

#

When Anakin came back, there were almost two-hundred hatch marks on the inside of the ship. Obi-Wan felt him coming; he’d felt Anakin’s increasing exhaustion and despair no matter how far Anakin wandered across the planet’s surface.

Obi-Wan stared at the ceiling, feeling Anakin drawing closer. He’d made changes, over the weeks and months, cut down trees and dug out rocks, building a proper shelter onto the ship. It had given him something to do, and it kept the animal life away while he slept.

He sat up, anticipation and worry mingling in his head. R2 had stopped working almost a month ago, going quiet in Obi-Wan’s arms as he held the droid close and felt his vision go blurry, sure he was going mad for the heartbreak in his chest.

Obi-Wan scrubbed a hand over his face and rose, moving to open the door.

Anakin stood on the far side of the area Obi-Wan thought of as theirs. The area he’d carved out. He’d plowed up the ground around the shelter and planted seeds from the plants that didn’t make him ill. He’d laughed, his hands dirty and his back aching, thinking of the agricorps and another life that he might have had.

He’d thought the plants wouldn’t live, but they sprouted, growing towards the sun, healthy and strong.

Anakin wasn’t looking at the plants. He wasn’t looking at the shelter. He stared dead at Obi-Wan, radiating sadness and defeat so sharply that it drew Obi-Wan a step forward. Anakin looked terrible, his eyes dull and his cheeks sunken under a ragged beard. His clothes hung off of his frame, torn and stained.

Obi-Wan took another step towards him, reaching out, calling, “Anakin,” with a cracking voice. He had not spoken out loud since R2 stopped functioning.

Anakin made a gutted sound at his voice, moving all at once. He seemed to fall into motion, to fall down the path, to fall into Obi-Wan, drawing him close, hugging him so tightly that it hurt. Anakin breathed unsteadily against the side of his head, his fingers clenching and unclenching in Obi-Wan’s shirt, shaking.

“Obi-Wan,” he said, his voice a rough croak, “Obi-Wan.”

“Sh,” Obi-Wan said, holding him back. It had been almost two hundred days since he saw another person. He rocked Anakin back and forth, the way he’d used to do, when Anakin was so much smaller than him. “It’s alright,” he said, curling a hand around the back of Anakin’s neck, “it’s alright, you’re back.”

#

“There’s nothing out there,” Anakin told him, later, sitting slumped at the small table that Obi-Wan had crafted. He had made it large enough for two people, hoping. Anakin held one of the few cups that had survived the wreck. He’d already had two cups full of something like soup. He looked too thin by far.

“I’m sorry,” Obi-Wan said, and was. He had hoped, as the days passed, that Anakin would find something out on his journey. He’d known it was unlikely, probably impossible, but he’d hoped. 

“There hasn’t been a rescue ship?” Anakin asked, his eyes following Obi-Wan each time he moved. He was otherwise still, so very, very still. 

“Not yet,” Obi-Wan said, holding onto the hope that there would be one. Someone would come for them, sooner or later. It made no sense that they’d been left so long. Surely their disappearance had been noticed. They’d been on their way to rescue Coruscant, for the Force’s sake…

Unless, Obi-Wan considered, turning away from Anakin’s piercing gaze, things had gone poorly with the war. Unless there was no one else to look for them. He swallowed. “Eat the rest of your soup,” he said. “And then, well, there’s a spring not far from here. If you want to get cleaned up.”

#

Anakin didn’t seem to care one way or another about getting cleaned up, but he let Obi-Wan shepherd him down the path and into the water. There was blood and filth dried to his skin. HIs ribs showed through his skin and the knobs of his spine pressed out, terribly.

He climbed into the water after a moment’s hesitation, and made a soft, hurt sound. Obi-Wan’s head snapped up. “Anakin?”

“It’s warm,” Anakin said, sounding wondering, confused. He looked back at Obi-Wan, expression open and shocked, as though he’d been unaware of the heat in the air, the sun beating down over them.

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said, crooking a smile at him, and took his clothes to the side of the pool, kneeling and scrubbing at them.

#

“I’m sorry,” Anakin said, when night fell. He’d eaten all the food Obi-Wan felt he could spare, and half of Obi-Wan’s rations for the day. He hadn’t seemed to notice Obi-Wan slipping them over. They were alone in the dark of the shelter. 

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan started, rolling to face him in the dark, “it’s--”

“I never should have left,” Anakin said, all in a rush, as though he’d been waiting for the darkness to speak. “You were right. And I missed you, so much. I thought I’d die out there, and never see another person again, and--”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, reaching out to touch his hand. “I under--”

Anakin moved fast, always had. He shifted across the distance between their bedrolls, curled close all at once. He was shaking again, grip too tight around Obi-Wan, so tight it was difficult to breathe, a shaking in his limbs.

“You’re going to be here when I wake up,” Anakin said, like a question, like a plea, like maybe he’d imagined Obi-Wan there in the night before.

“I’m going to be right here,” Obi-Wan said, carefully covering one of Anakin’s hands with his. He might have protested, but he had been alone for so long, as well. It felt good to be held, even so tightly, to be sure that someone else was there, that Anakin would be there when he woke up.

“Good,” Anakin said, voice ragged. “That’s good.”

#

“How’d you do all this?” Anakin asked, the next day. He was standing too close, really, and kept stretching a hand out, like he intended to grab Obi-Wan’s arm. He’d gazed around the shelter and the garden with an incredulous look.

“I had time,” Obi-Wan said, shrugging, a bitter smile touching his mouth. “Do you know, I might have been a farmer once? I almost got sent to the agricorps.”

Anakin blinked at him and said, “No.”

“Oh, yes.” Obi-Wan laughed, just a little, shaking his head. “Of course, I decided I’d run away before doing that and nearly got killed and Master Qui-Gon agreed to take me as Padawan, but…” He gestured at the gardens. “Apparently, I would have been quite good at the work.”

Anakin stared at him, quiet for too long, and then looked away hurriedly. He said, “How have you been keeping your beard trimmed?”

Obi-Wan froze, pain slicing down through his chest. It never went away, most days he was just better at living with it. But a stray thought brought everything back. He cleared his throat, looking to the side. “Cody… had a razor. I’ve been using that.”

Anakin reached out, fingertips brushing the back of Obi-Wan’s hand, comfort in the touch. Obi-Wan squeezed his eyes shut. He said, to move past the weight in his chest, “Would you like me to give you a shave?”

“That sounds wonderful,” Anakin said, and sat very still when Obi-Wan took him back to the stream and gestured at a rock that was about the right height to serve as a chair. Anakin watched him, eyes sharp and bright, as he carefully worked the razor over skin, taking off months of tangled and matted growth.

Anakin’s face was familiar, underneath, but thinner, all his sharp angles made sharper.

“There,” Obi-Wan said, dragging a thumb over Anakin’s cheek without thinking, seeing the familiar face he’d missed so much. “Much better.”

Anakin swallowed, loudly enough that Obi-Wan heard him, and said, “Thank you.” He leaned into Obi-Wan’s touch, and neither of them moved for a long moment, not until Anakin said, “I could trim your hair, too. You’re looking pretty scruffy.”

Obi-Wan snorted, reaching up to tug at his hair. He’d kept the beard trimmed, but abandoned all attempts to keep his hair in order months ago. And the thought of having an excuse to sit out in the sun, to feel fingers through his hair, was too nice to pass up. “I’d appreciate that,” he said, and they swapped positions, Anakin leaning over, carefully lifting hair, the sound of the razor and their breathing mingling with burbling water and the distant sounds of birds.

#

When there were 368 hatch marks on the wall, Obi-Wan rose early, ignoring Anakin’s murmured protests. The weather had grown cold, since Anakin returned. Sleeping close together allowed them to share body heat, chasing away some of the aches in Obi-Wan’s body from old broken bones.

He washed his face in the basin by the door and combed his hair with his fingers, tugging on his robe for the first time in months. He walked down the path to the graves in silence and stood in front of them, remembering the name of each man, watching his breath steam in the frozen morning air.

He turned, slightly, when he felt Anakin coming down the path. Anakin didn’t visit the graves as often as Obi-Wan did. Obi-Wan didn’t begrudge it. They had been his men, not Anakin’s. It was Obi-Wan’s job to remember them.

He glanced at Anakin, grateful for his presence, only for the cold in his chest to spread as he saw Anakin’s expression. He was staring at nothing, blank-faced, his hands tucked into his robes. Obi-Wan blinked at him as snow swirled around them both, the first flakes landing on the ground.

Anakin came to a stop at his side and said, quietly, “I was married.”

Obi-Wan blinked, taken so off-guard that for a moment he couldn’t think of a thing to say. He managed, finally, “What?”

“To Senator Amidala,” Anakin continued, still staring forward at nothing. Obi-Wan felt his mouth hanging open and could do nothing to stop it. “She died,” Anakin said, agony radiating out of him, fast and sudden. “The day I left. I felt it and - and that’s why I - I had to just - I --” He trailed off, breathing shakily, covering his face with one hand.

Obi-Wan stared, trying to make the pieces of the world make sense again. He felt snow melting into his hair, felt the cold eating at him by the time Anakin finally said, “Are you going to say anything?”

“I don’t know what to say,” Obi-Wan admitted, and barked out a laugh. He was trying to mourn his men. He was trying to -- of all days -- He dragged a hand back through his hair. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Anakin grimaced. “You’d have told the Council,” he said, voice cracking. “I would have had to leave the Order, and--”

“Why didn’t you leave the Order?” Obi-Wan interrupted, because nothing in the world made sense. Everything he’d thought he knew had tilted sideways. Anakin had been married. Married to Padmé, who had never said a word, both of them keeping this secret. “If you wanted to - to be married, why didn’t you just leave?”

Anakin was quiet, for a long moment, his expression blank as he stared out at nothing. He said, voice cracking, “I - I don’t know, anymore. I thought I had reasons. Good reasons. But…” He shook his head. “I should have left.”

Obi-Wan imagined a war without Anakin at his side. It would probably have been much shorter. But… He swallowed, pain digging deeper into his chest, taking a step back. “So you lied to me. For how long, Anakin?”

Anakin grimaced, closing his eyes. “Since - you remember, I went back to Naboo with Padmé. After Geonosis, we--”

Obi-Wan turned on his heel, the weight of almost five years of lies pressing down on him like the weight of the world. He walked, numb, back towards their shelter, his mind terrible and empty inside. Almost five years. A year with just the two of them on this world.

And over all of that time, lies.

#

A few days passed in silence. Obi-Wan made his marks, went through his routines, practiced katas. Meditated. He didn’t speak, and neither did Anakin, moving around him like a ghost. He thought perhaps Anakin would leave again, but he remained, though he did not curl close at night.

Obi-Wan laid awake, shivering, thinking about lies.

On the third day, he washed his face, turned to Anakin, and said, “I don’t know what to say to you.”

“I know.” Anakin leaned his back against the wall of the shelter, expression miserable. “I’m sorry, for whatever it’s worth.”

Obi-Wan stared at him. He’d been angry, briefly, but mostly hurt. Hurt held onto would do nothing. He had to let it go, move on. He’d always believed so, and that hadn’t changed. He rubbed a hand over his face. Besides, Anakin might be the only human face he ever saw again, though he still held out hope for their beacon.

It would be foolish to let this destroy them. “Alright,” he said, because what more could he ask than an apology? Anakin couldn’t undo what he’d done. He shifted, discomfort climbing up his spine, and said, softly, “I am sorry. That you… lost her.”

Anakin flinched, chin dipping down and to the side. Obi-Wan took a step towards him and another and another, until he could sink down the wall, their shoulders pressed together. “Can you… tell me about her? About you both?”

Anakin swallowed, hard, and nodded. And he spoke of a life Obi-Wan had never known, secrets kept dear and close, until the sun was high in the sky. It wasn’t like they had anywhere pressing to be. And it was cold outside.

#

The day Obi-Wan drew his 512th hatch mark on the wall, the generator powering the emergency beacon failed. Anakin had nursed it along since his return, but the system had been damaged to begin with. “That’s it,” Anakin said, after working on it for most of the day. “She’s shot.”

Obi-Wan swallowed, looking at the dark machinery, feeling cold and hopeless inside. He said, “Someone may have already picked it up.”

“Sure,” Anakin said. He felt oddly at peace, these days. Obi-Wan barely understood it, but there was a contentment in him, strange and deep. They’d both been so tired, both fought so long. Making a life on their planet was not easy, but no one was trying to kill them. 

They slept through the nights, more often than not. They even woke with fewer nightmares, these days. Obi-Wan could only vaguely remember the last one he’d had, the horror of it fading as Anakin had rubbed his back, hand warm across Obi-Wan’s skin, murmuring soothing nonsense to him.

Anakin meditated with him, most days. At first he had begged off, claiming the disinterest he’d always had for the process. But it was one more thing that provided them with some kind of structure as they went about their days, and Obi-Wan grew used to Anakin sitting at his back, both of them breathing slow and deep, reaching out to the Force.

He taught Anakin lightsaber forms he would have shared earlier, had not the war disrupted their training, practicing movements out below the spring sun, working until they were both covered with sweat, his gaze lingering too long on the line of Anakin’s shoulders or the movement of muscles down his back.

That happened more and more frequently, as the days passed. He found himself staring. It was difficult not to, especially as the day’s warmed and Anakin left his shirt behind more often. He said it was only to preserve the fabric as long as possible, for the colder months, and Obi-Wan hummed along agreement, watching his skin go tan and golden.

Obi-Wan avoided so much direct exposure as best he could. The sun only turned him red.

He focused on the freckles rising over his forearms, when they bathed off in the springs, instead of the sound of Anakin moving through the water, swallowing heavily. His own body he found to be increasingly full of wants.

He supposed it was only natural. He’d always loved Anakin. That love had changed shape over time, before. Why shouldn’t it change, again?

#

The morning Obi-Wan made his 716th tally mark, they walked together down to the graves. Anakin put an arm around his shoulders as they stood there, breath steaming in the air before them. Obi-Wan spoke, sometimes, to his men. But it didn’t feel right that day to do anything more than apologize.

He leaned his head against Anakin’s shoulder; they’d gotten thoughtless about touching one another. It just happened, as easy as breathing, and there was comfort in the way Anakin rested his cheek against the side of Obi-Wan’s head and pulled him a little closer.

“I don’t think anyone is coming,” Obi-Wan said, the following day, when he woke up, cocooned in warmth. He’d wept the night before, for his men, for all the loss in the war, for two years of time on this planet, and felt he had no more tears left.

“They might be,” Anakin said. He had his palm pressed flat over Obi-Wan’s chest, over his heart. The shelter was dark around them. Outside the wind howled and roared, bringing with it the first major storm of the winter. “But they’re probably not.”

Obi-Wan nodded, swallowing. “The war must be over, one way or another,” he said, speaking quietly. They never spoke of the war. 

“Do you think Coruscant fell?” Anakin asked, shifting closer as he did, lips moving across Obi-Wan’s shoulder, knees tucking back against his, thumb stroking back and forth across Obi-Wan’s chest.

“I don’t know,” Obi-Wan said, shutting his eyes. “Maybe.” Probably, he did not say, because he did not know and that was vanity, anyway, to assume that it must have fallen because they were not there.

“I hope…” Anakin said, and went quiet, his voice hitching. “Do you think Ahsoka…?”

“You trained her well,” Obi-Wan said, because it was the truest comfort he could offer.

Anakin let out a shuddering breath. He had not wept the night before, but did, then, the tears coming all at once, held back for months - for years - as he held Obi-Wan close in the dark. “We trained her well,” he said, through the storm of it. “She’s got to be fine.”

#

There were 923 hatch marks on the wall the day they got caught in a rainstorm while down at the spring. It was a warm rain, winter’s cold grasp on them finally lessened. Obi-Wan looked up at it - the day was almost clear - and laughed as the rain fell down over them in the water. 

Anakin made a little noise - it sounded hurt, to Obi-Wan - and Obi-Wan looked over to find him staring. “What?” he asked, reaching up to touch his face, unsure what was making Anakin’s expression look that way. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Anakin said, his voice strange as he waded closer through the water - it barely came up to his chest. 

“Well, something--”

“You’re beautiful,” Anakin interrupted, close, but Obi-Wan barely registered that closeness anymore. They were always in one another’s space. Anakin took his hand, put his other hand on Obi-Wan’s face, and leaned down. Obi-Wan gasped, surprised, at the brush of his mouth. A kiss.

He had not kissed anyone in such a very long time.

“Anakin,” he said, pulling back, just a little, watching the rain come down on Anakin’s shoulders, listening to the sound of it on the water. “What--”

“We’re going to be here the rest of our lives,” Anakin said, but softly, without any anger, as though he were only stating a fact. He slid his fingers back into Obi-Wan’s hair. “Together.” He leaned closer, brushing another brief kiss across Obi-Wan��s mouth. “So. I think we should really be together.”

Obi-Wan had gotten so used to touching him. To watching him. To wanting him. He’d wanted for so long, now. He swallowed and nodded, cautiously raising a hand to touch Anakin’s chest, his shoulder, his neck.

“Yes,” he said, shifting just slightly onto his toes, enough to kiss Anakin’s mouth again. “Together.”

#

There were 2,348 hatch marks on the walls the night they laid out under the stars, staring upwards. Anakin’s head rested on Obi-Wan’s chest. The air was warm around them, quiet except for the noises of the night animals. The sky was so perfectly clear Obi-Wan could see every star, the ones with names he knew, the ones they’d named themselves.

He stroked Anakin’s hair, absently, removing any tangles from the day with his fingers. Anakin felt heavy with contentment, but not exhaustion. There was a tinge of want in his thoughts, one that Obi-Wan was well familiar with by then. He knew it would only be a matter of time before Anakin shifted against him, pushing closer to kiss his mouth.

But there was no rush. They had all the time in the world.

He stared at the stars and asked, quietly, “Do you still think about leaving?”

Anakin shifted, rolling so his cheek rested over Obi-Wan’s heart. Lit by the stars, he seemed ethereal, other-worldly. His small smile was only just barely visible. “Not really,” Anakin said, and moved, putting a hand by Obi-Wan’s head, leaning down, kissing him under the wide open sky.

[lo-55]

Tilt The Hourglass Ch. 13

Siolo Ur Manka had lived in the Jentares system for nearly seventy years by the time their ship, still on loan from a Mandalorian named Silas, touched down on the planets soft soil. It was overrun with thick jungle, and it sang with the Force. With life, and light, in the bird songs and the ambling hum of great beasts that marched through the foliage with thick soled feet and swinging necks. 

And in it’s shadow death and darkness, beneath the undergrowth and in the fanged mouths of predators. 

Maul’s vornskr trotted behind him, their tails raised like tiny black flags. 

“Ahsoka, Ezra, Ben, keep up,” Maul warned over his shoulder. Ben, a biggest and also the most troublesome, turned his face away from a fluttering insect to chirp at Maul. Ahsoka batted his should and knocked him back in line. 

Kenobi, on Maul’s side, had his little lizard hanging from his hair. He’d named her something silly. Boba? Boga. She was tasting the air curiously while Kenobi looked around them in no small degree of wonder. If he’d never left the Temple before Bandomeer then there was no way he’d ever been to a planet with this much foliage on it. 

The air was thick and humid and Jango looked miserable where he tramped through the brush after them. 

Not that it was easy to see with his helmet in place, but Maul was getting better and better at reading his body language.

  Jango still confused him. 

For a lot of reasons, not the least of which was the fact that even though Maul had accidentally shoved nightmare fuel memories into his skull he still wanted to adopt him into his family. He was lucky that Jango thought they were only visions of the future, and not memories of Maul’s past. 

Even if Jango knew that, would it matter? 

The people Maul had killed before still lived, for one thing, so for all intents and purposes for everyone that wasn’t him they might as well have been visions. Everything he knew was true and detailed, but insubstantial and subject to change. He’d changed Kilindi and Daleen after all. 

Maul was probably lucky that he’d been found by a Mandalorian. Anyone else would have had to many questions up front, or would have tried to force him into the life of a child. Maul would have had to kill them, and cover that up too. It would have been annoying. 

Maul kept an ear out for anything dangerous as they neared the clearing where Siolo made his home. 

Maul had been here years ago, five years in the future, and killed the old twi’lek master. He was a powerful Jedi, and deeply entrenched in the Force. Maul had only beaten him through trickery, and he could teach Kenobi that if it became necessary. 

Maul shook his head. Since when was he seriously considering teaching Kenobi anything? He’d offered, once, to help him harness his anger and turn it into a tool. But Kenobi was too Jedi already to accept it. 

A shame. He could have made a powerful Sith. 

Perhaps- 

No. 

Maul shook the thought off. He was already too attached to too many people. He’d even begun gravitating towards Jango against his will. 

He didn’t need a father, and he had years more experience than the Mandalorian did. 

All the same, there was a part of him that still was ten years old, one that Maul ignored most of the time, that wanted what he could offer. It was faint, beaten down by the Maul that inhabited a body he’d long outgrown, but the longing was there. 

They came into a clearing. 

Siolo Ur Manka was just as Maul remembered him. And elderly twi’lek with mossy green skin, his lekku were draped around his shoulders. He wore the brown robes of a jedi, and he was sitting peacefully, entrenched in his deep meditation. 

The three sentients came to a halt half the field away from him. Ezra, entranced by the thick swirls of the Force around the master, left the safety of their group and trotted over to him. Maul hissed at him, but he was ignored. Ezra’s eyes were caught by the minute twitching of one of Siolo’s lekku. 

“We should probably warn him,” Jango mused as Ezra crept closer, his chest to the ground. Maul watched him. His posture was poor, but that would come with time. His butt wiggled as he stretched himself closer and closer to the Jedi Master. 

“No need,” Maul waved his hand flippantly. 

When Ezra made to pounce he was caught in the air, gently, by the Force. Siolo opened his eyes to looked at the vornskr, who bared his tiny teeth at him and tried to growl. His tail lashed uselessly. He was much too young to properly poinson the Jedi Master. 

“I believe,” Siolo said in his Rylothian accent, “That this is yours?” 

Maul used the Force to pluck the small predator out of his grasp and bring him back to his side. 

“That was poor technique,” he chided gently. Ezra chirped at him and crawled into his shirt instead of answering. Maul didn’t fight him. Ahsoka jumped up onto his shoulder with ease and bumped her cheek against his, as if apologizing for her littermates mistake. She was undeniably Maul’s favorite. She was already scarred, and already a fighter, and she’d destroyed three mouse droids on the way to the planet. She was going to be vicious and unstoppable once she was bigger than a bread box. 

Siolo looked over his assembled audience. He gripped his cane and stood, slowly. Maul was not fooled. He may be retired, but he was still a dangerous adversary. He was one of the few beings that Maul had ever run from in his life time, even if it was for only a few days while he built his lightsaber. 

It felt strange to stand before him without it, and in fact without any conflict between them. He was not here to kill Siolo. 

It was a weird feeling, to seek someone out without the intention of taking their head off their shoulders. Maul was still getting used to it. He was no less deadly than he once had been, but he saw more use in letting people live than killing them outright. 

“Do not see every enemy as an enemy. See them instead as an ally, whether they know it or not."

Mauls cheek twitched but he didn’t otherwise acknowledge the woman’s voice. This was getting old. He was certain it had something to do with the shattered holocrons. He needed to get back to Malachor and find them again, if for no other reason than to make the random voices of unwanted advice shut up. Every time he heard someone speak to him his palm itched where the small scars were pressed into his skin. 

Siolo looked over each of them in turn. Maul could feel him mentally brushing against Maul’d shields, and when Obi Wa- Kenobi stiffened Maul was certain he felt the same thing. If Jango wasn’t wearing his helmet it might well have happened to him too. 

“I don’t get many visitors out here. Certainly none as… unique, as you are.” 

“We look for a Master for Obi Wan,” Jango touched Kenobi’s shoulder lightly and urged him forwards. Kenobi took a deep breath and squared his shoulders when he approached. Once he was close enough he bowed deeply to the older Jedi. 

“Venerated Master,” he said politely. “I am Obi Wan Kenobi, of the Coruscant temple, and the AgriCorps. “ 

“Yes, the Force tells me as much,” Siolo inclined his head. “It also tells me you have great potential. Show me your abilities, young one.” 

Kenobi perked up, bouncing up on his toes. “Yes, Master! Um, do you have a lightsaber?” 

“I have not carried one in many years,” Siolo shook his head and brushed his robes out before he rose to his full height and lifted his walking stick. “Shall I repeat myself? Show me, young one.” 

Kenobi looked dubious, but he drew his lightsaber all the same. Maul sat on a fallen tree, and Jango took up residence at his shoulder. He stayed standing, his visor fixed on the two Jedi. Kenobi hesitated before he swung at Siolo. 

The old jedi parried the blow with his walking stick, reinforced with the Force. 

It was a trick that Maul had never quite gotten right. 

“How did you know this Jettii was here?” Jango asked while Kenobi went in for another blow. 

Maul hummed. 

“I was once sent to kill him. “ 

“Yet, here he stands. And he doesn’t seem to know you.” 

Maul shot him a grin with far too many teeth. “I don’t take orders well.” 

Jango huffed a laughed just as Obi Wan was knocked to the ground. Siolo was much gentler with him than he had been with Maul, though looking at him now Maul realized that the old master had been gentle with him as well. He could have killed him, if he really wanted to. 

Even if Maul had tried to flee, Siolo could have cut him down with a single parry when he was a boy of but seventeen. It rankled his pride, but in the end that mercy had been his downfall. 

Jedi weakness. 

(Maul ignored the phantom feeling of warm arms and cooling sand and blue eyes that did not hate

He ignored the refusal to kill and two blue blades, and sharp, predator teeth held back. How much harder it was not to kill the clones on the Tribunal (Or why he listened to Tano in the first place) 

Mercy stung at him and it was so much more difficult than cruelty)  

Kenobi got up, bowed to the Master, and started again. Siolo trounced him soundly each time, and while Maul could feel Kenobi’s frustrations building, he never yelled or threw his weapon down or demanded to know why he kept losing. Maul didn’t know if that was a good sign or not. 

“Aren’t you going to go fight?” Jango asked, nodding towards Siolo. Kenobi had at least given him enough challenge that one of his lekku fell out of place. 

Maul shook his head. He knew how he compared to the Jedi Master. “We’re looking for a Master for Kenobi. As you said, I will have no other Master.” 

Jango placed his hand on Maul’s small shoulder and squeezed it. Maul looked at it, but didn’t knock it away like he might normally have. 

“No,” Jango agreed. “Never again.” 

They sat together until Kenobi had worked himself up, sweating and panting, and Siolo called for a halt to their spar. He barely looked rumpled. 

“That’s enough, young one. You fought well. Was that Cin Drallig’s style I saw?” 

Kenobi nodded quickly. “Yes, Master. He teaches all the younglings their lightsaber forms.” 

“It shows. You’ll have to practice being more adaptable than he is, but I can see your potential. Both with a lightsaber, and the Force. Here.” 

Siolo handed him a water skin, one that Kenobi drank eagerly from. Jango leaned forwards on his knees when the two Jedi started making their way over. Maul made himself stay seated, and kept his hand off of his modified blaster. Siolo’s eyes stayed on him, and Maul was reminded that the old twi’lek had once told him that others had come before he had. Siolo eyed him, but if he could sense the depths of his darkness he didn’t give it away. 

“You keep strange company, Initiate Kenobi,” Siolo mused. “A pair of Mandalorians are unusual companions for a young Jedi.” 

“I promised I’d help him find a Jedi Master,” Jango said evenly while Kenobi flushed in embarrassment. “Maul heard you lived here.” 

“You’re right,” Siolo inclined his head. “And he shows great promise as a Jedi. I have felt few so strong in the Light in recent years.” 

Kenobi sucked in a startled breath. “But, Master! I was angry in our fight,” he argued, his shoulders hunched in shame. “I was upset when you kept beating me so easily.” 

Siolo looked faintly amused. He touched Kenobi’s shoulder. “I would expect so. You’re young, and you will grow out of that if you try. I didn’t sense any true attempt to hurt me, even when you were angry.” 

“But anger leads to hate, and hate leads to the darkside!” 

“So it does,” Siolo inclined his head. “But we are Jedi, not droids. We still feel. Even the greatest of Masters is not immune to anger. The important thing is that we do not act on it, or give it control over us. Do you understand?” 

Kenobi’s brows furrowed. “I… I think so.” 

“Your Master will be able to explain it further to you.” 

Kenobi startled, confusion on his face. “But, I have no Master. That is why we came here, to you!” 

“I know,” Siolo said kindly. He squeezed Kenobi’s shoulder. “But I am too old to raise a Padawan properly. I am retired from fieldwork, and your education would be skewed if I were to try. You deserve better than an old twi’lek for your master, child.” 

“But- I’m almost thirteen,” Kenobi’s blue eyes glittered. 

“Yes?” Siolo looked confused. “I was almost fifteen when my Master took me on.” 

Kenobi gaped at him. “But thirteen is too old to be a Padawan? For human’s and species with comparable life times.” 

“Is that what they’ve decided these days?” Siolo shook his head. “I heard talk about making a cap of youngling’s ages a few decades ago, but I hadn’t known they’d made it a solid rule.”

“Why would they do something like that?” Jango asked, frowning at Siolo. 

Siolo shook his head. “I couldn’t tell you. Something about the other branches needing more members, but it seems silly to force younglings into them if they don’t want to be.” 

Jango inclined his head. “You’re sure you won’t take the boy as your student?” 

Kenobi was trying desperately to look brave and self assured, but it wasn’t working well. He looked crushed. Like each time he got his hopes up they were dashed upon the ground. 

“As I said, it wouldn't be fair to Young Kenobi for me to take him on. But there are plenty of other Masters in the order. Come, have supper with me, and I’ll see if I can’t think of a few names.” 

Siolo motioned for them to follow him to a hut that was almost completely hidden by trees. Kenobi followed first, then Maul, with Jango behind them. He was saying something into his comlink, but he was too far behind for Maul to hear exactly what it was. 

Maul stepped into a hut that felt far too warm and smelled like stew, and the galaxy turned on. 

Far off in the stars, dozens of comlink lit up with a new order. 

The Mand’alor required a Jedi, and they were to find him one. Gently. 

‘Gentle’, for Mandalorians, was a rather subjective term. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Mace was intensely grateful that Depa was sitting at his side. 

Her Padawan braid hung long down her shoulder, it’s beads glinting faintly in the dim light. It was almost time for the braid to be cut off. Depa was more than ready to be a Knight, and her trials were slated for the next week. She was busily writing on her datapad, apparently absorbed in the last of her coursework. 

Mace wasn’t fooled. 

He could tell from the faint furrowing of her brows that she was listening carefully to what was happening in the council chambers. 

They all were. 

As Mace’s padawan she had a privilege to sit in on council meetings, unless they were more high security. This meeting was troubling, to be sure, but it wasn’t an emergency meeting. 

Not yet, at least. 

“Certain of this, you are?” Master Yoda asked, his normally light voice deep with concern for their newest loss. Mace carefully let his irritation flow into the Force. It was something he had a lot of practice doing, unfortunately. Depa glanced at him curiously before she bent her head over her data pad again. It was balanced on her lap, while a few others were stacked next to the small chair that she was afforded beside his own. 

“Yes, Master,” Qui Gon Jinn’s face was smooth now, but Mace could see the faint remnants of lines etched in with grief and frustration. Mace could only imagine. He’d lost his former Padawan, fallen or otherwise, and his prospective future Padawan all in the span of a single night. “The boy had training, but not from any Jedi, and he was powerful in the Darkside. He was not half grown and he cut down Xanatos with almost no effort at all. Before the night was over he and the Mandalorian had taken Initiate Kenobi and left the planet.” 

It was sparse at best, and there were so many gaps in the story that Mace could have ridden a Bantha between them, but so too were all of Jinn’s reports. Those that didn’t involve a simple end to the story and the rest was filled with ‘I followed the Will of the Force’. 

Mace was not his biggest fan.  

“I fear that the dark child plans on corrupting Kenobi. The boy is already prone to anger and aggression.” 

That was true, but the same could have been said about Mace when he was Kenobi’s age. 

“And the Mandalorian?” Tiin asked, a deep frown on his face. 

“I could not say why he would aid in taking Initiate Kenobi,” Jinn admitted, bowing his head. 

“Perhaps it was for revenge,” Sifo Dyas offered up, his mouth turned in a grim line. “Many Mandalorians were injured during the battle on Galidraan. Perhaps the battle was not enough.” 

A grim thought. 

Mace’s stomach turned. Depa’s grip on her stylus tightened. Through their training bond Mace could feel her intense concern for the youngling. 

“Either way, I will pursue them and uncover the truth,” Jinn announced. 

The room fell quiet. Mace exchanged a look with Yaddle and Giiett. Tyvokka didn’t look any more happy about it than anyone else felt. 

“That may not be the best idea,” Poof said gently. “You are grieving, Master Jinn. Perhaps it would be best if you stayed at the temple for a time.” 

“I do not need time,” Jinn said swiftly. “Initiate Kenobi needs someone to find him, immediately, and I am the only one who knows the Mandalorian and the Darksider.” 

Eeth Koth looked to Tyvokka, who in turn shook his head. 

“You were not the boys guardian, Qui Gon. And he is not your Padawan. You are too emotionally invested in this matter,” Tyvokka said gravely. “We should send another.” 

None of them mentioned it, but everyone had heard about how devastated Kenobi had been when Jinn had refused to take him as his padawan after the show he put on at the Initiate competition a month or so earlier. Now Kenobi had fought off pirates and draigons at Jinn’s side, and he still referred to the boy as ‘Initiate’. Anyone else would have taken the boy for their padawan in a heartbeat. 

Many would have already, except… 

“Unacceptable. I will find Initiate Kenobi,” Jinn insisted. “And I will bring him back.” 

Finally, Yoda spoke again. 

“Feel that you have failed the boy, you do. Choose to pursue him, for Obi Wan’s best interest or your own redemption. Which do you seek?” 

“I cannot allow a random knight to go after them,” Jinn argued. “The Mandalorian and the dark child are more dangerous than you can imagine!” 

“According to you, the Mandalorian also fought by your side against the draigon’s.” And according to some of the miners they had contacted before Jinn gave his report, he had also helped him disable bombs set to destroy the planet. Curious that Jinn didn’t see pertinent to mention that. 

“That was to save his own life. We have no idea what a Mandalorian would do to a Force Sensative child, let alone a Jedi Initiate. We need to rescue him.” 

“You’re right,” Mace said evenly, catching Jinn’s eye. “We need to. Poof is correct. We all know that Xanatos was important to you, whatever may have happened in recent years. Stay home for the time being. Rest in your chambers, visit your friends, sit in the creche. Trust in the council to retrieve Kenobi.” 

“Have faith in your fellow Jedi, you must,” Yaddle added. Jinn drew himself up to argue before it all seemed to deflate. For just a moment his shields slipped, and the grief and guilt came rippling out to wash over the Council members. Depa gasped quietly at his side. 

“Yes, master’s.” 

Mace could count on one hand the number of times Qui Gon Jinn had actually listened to them. He could only watch the maverick Jedi bow to them and leave, his shields drawing back up around him. 

The door closed soundly behind him. 

“He really should speak to a Mind Healer,” Poof said sadly. Mace had to agree. They’d tried to get him to do as much after Xanatos first left the Order, but Yoda had advised them not to push him on the matter. 

They’d listened. 

Now, Mace wondered if that was the best idea. 

Speaking of Yoda… 

“Why was Initiate Kenobi sent to Bandomeer without an escort?” Mace asked suddenly, drawing all attention to himself. He was the youngest in the room by far, not counting Depa. “When Initiates are assigned to one of the corps they’re typically escorted by a Knight, or a Master who already belongs to them, aren’t they? So where was Initiate Kenobi’s?” 

“Going to Bandomeer as well, Qui Gon was. Look after the boy, he did,” Yoda said helpfully. 

“Yes, and that worked so well,” Koth frowned at the Grand Master. 

“Circumstances we could not have foreseen, there were,” Yoda pointed out. 

“True, this is. Yet still, more caution we should have used,” Yaddle argued. “Did this one purpose, didn’t you? To push the two together, yes?” 

Yoda’s ears drooped minutely. “A good pair, they would make. Show me, the Force did.” 

“This is why you asked that other Master’s interested in the boy not act?” Tyvokka asked with no small degree of unhappiness. The master was well known for his care of Younglings, something that his own apprentice had inherited. Somedays Mace wondered how neither of them were full time creche masters. 

Depa looked to Mace, startled. He frowned at her, but nodded once. It was true. Yoda had staked an unofficial claim on the boy. He wanted him for his own current lineage, and while Dooku was unable to take a Padawan while he had Komari Vosa, and Feemor had been undercover as a shadow until only a week ago, Qui Gon was the only one who could have done it. 

Mace let his irritation flow into the Force. 

The old Jedi’s meddling was getting out of hand. Had the Council of Reassignment even authorized Kenobi’s transfer to Bandomeer, or had Yoda gone over their heads in this scheme of his? 

“A great Jedi, Kenobi will be,” Yoda said again, tapping his walking stick on the council room floor. 

“If he returns,” Sifo Dyas said grimly. 

“We need to send someone after him quickly. In that Qui Gon was no wrong,” Koth admitted. 

“It will have to be someone who is good at laying low, and good at tracking to get close enough to the Mandalorian and the ‘dark child’ he spoke of,” T’un mused. 

“Perhaps Tholme and his new Padawan?” Omo B’ouri suggested. “Vos is one of the Kenobi’s old creche-mates.” 

“Much darkness I sense in Vos,” Yoda argued, shaking his head. 

“...Feemor,” Mace said suddenly. “He has Shadow training, he’s recovered from his last mission, and we don’t have another lined up for him yet.” 

On top of that, suggesting Feemor would get him closer to getting Yoda to agree, since Feemor was Yoda’s Grandpadawan. 

Or should be, if Qui Gon hadn’t publicly disowned him. It was one of the biggest reasons Feemor had asked to train as a Shadow, instead of continuing on his Councilor path. 

Whether Feemor was still Yoda’s Grandpadawan by rights or by sentiment, Mace’s suggestion did the trick. 

Yoda nodded, slowly. 

Good. Trying to go against Yoda as council meetings was light trying to fight the tide. The Grand Master had much sway over the rest of them. 900 years of being with the Jedi would do that. 

“Very well. Send Knight Feemor after Initiate Kenobi, we will. Retrieve our lost Initiate, we must. Learn more about this ‘dark child’ too, we shall.”

No one disagreed. Mace took a data pad from Depa and started writing up new mission orders for Feemor, as well as arranging for his funding for the mission. Hopefully it wouldn’t be a long one, but the Force was tilting around them. New shatterpoints appeared and disappeared everyday. 

Only time would tell where the future would lead. 

Mace commed Feemor to come receive his new mission.  

[fireflyfish]

Tano and Kenobi: Jar’kai Can Wait

Previously on Tano and Kenobi...

After his attempt to ask Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn to mentor him in the ways of the Force is coldly and brutally rebuffed, Obi-Wan Kenobi is faced with the grim reality that he will soon be forced to leave the Jedi Order to take up the quite life of a member of the Agricorp on the farming planet of Bandomeer. Meanwhile, Ahsoka Tano must come to decision that will change everything...

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After the debacle with Qui-Gon in the dining hall, Ahsoka had to do some thinking.

And some planning.

She took the advice of the Presence and, early the next morning, set out for a long walk. Her walk carried her from Temple District to the Senate District and from there to the Tower and its manicured parks around the base of the Eferite marble spire. Ahsoka found a spot under a tangle of maidens-tear vines and sat down, gazing out at the vast expanse of the city, of the eternal ecumenopolis.

How had she been so wrong? How had Anakin been so wrong?

Anakin had told Ahsoka that Master Jinn had been a wonderful man: kind, patient and generous. He had told her Jinn had been strong and good and if it weren’t for Darth Maul essentially orphaning both Master Obi-Wan and Anakin on Naboo, Anakin would have become Qui-Gon Jinn’s padawan.

She remembered the look on his face as Anakin had told her that, the two of them on a long hyperspace jump from Corellia to an Outer Rim planet under seige.

“So… Master Obi-Wan wasn’t supposed to be your master?” she asked Anakin, glancing up from a datapad full of information on the planet they were traveling to.

Anakin shook his head, a faint smile on his face. “No. He was going to take the trials and become a Jedi Knight. I… I think Master Qui-Gon might have hurt Obi-Wan’s feelings but he was right. Obi-Wan was ready to become a knight.”

“That must have been painful for both of you,” Ahsoka said, her voice quiet and soft. “You both lost a master.”

“Yeah…” Anakin agreed, nodding his head a little as he worked through a little cubed logic puzzle that floated in the air in front of him. “The first few weeks were rough but after that, Obi-Wan never talked about it again. He doesn’t talk about himself much.”

“Do you miss him?” She watched her master, at the way his hands moved through the puzzle, at his sense of calm in the Force. It was always easier to get Anakin to talk about himself when he had something to do with his hands and his mind and Ahsoka intended to take advantage of the moment. “Master Jinn, I mean.”

“Yeah…” Anakin’s eyes went soft. “He… he had such faith in me. He believed in me when I was nothing. And he… he wasn’t afraid of me. Obi-Wan… I don’t think we got off to the best start. I kept expecting him to be like Qui-Gon and he… just wasn’t.”

“General Skywalker?” Rex’s voice broke through their quiet moment and they both looked up at the Clone Captain. “General Kenobi is on the horn for you. He has some intel you might need for the next engagement.”

Ahsoka frowned out at the jagged horizon of the city and wondered if it wasn’t a good thing that Master Obi-Wan had been nothing like Qui-Gon because the Master Jinn Ahsoka had just met was not exactly a shining example of a Jedi Master.

True, he was powerful in the Force, which uncurled around the man like a cool, heavy fog on a sunny day. He was wise and his advice had helped Ahsoka when she was mid-panic attack but that didn’t excuse his behavior yesterday.

Nothing excused that. Humiliating a child in public was barbaric and beneath someone of Qui-Gon Jinn’s reputation and position.

Perhaps, she thought, it was time to acknowledge that Anakin’s view of the Jedi had been influenced by his dramatic rescue from Tatooine and the tragedy of Qui-Gon Jinn’s death. Clearly there had been a part of him that had idolized Master Jinn as a long-lost father figure who could do no wrong.

Ahsoka let out a sigh and gazed at the distant haze of air traffic, individual speeders zipping and dashing across the blue-white sky like the stinging mites on Geonosis.

I'm sorry, Master. But I'm going to do what I think is right. I hope… I hope you can forgive me. Wherever you are.

Her mind made up, Ahsoka stood up and walked to the elevator. Obi-Wan had mentioned there was a particular type of snack he liked that could only be purchased at the Tower. It was sold in a Tellestrian souvenir shop and she went on a mission to find it.

Three days later…

Obi-Wan woke up with the sun streaming in through a window he had forgotten to cover with a curtain the night before. He let out a groan and turned his face back into his pillow, hating the sun and each new horrible day that came with it.

In three days he was going to ship out to Bandomeer, to leave behind Master Ahsoka and his friends and the only home he had ever known.

He would never see any of them ever again.

Some birthday present.

I don't want to get up. I just want to go back to sleep and never wake up again. Obi-Wan thought morosely, sniffling into his pillow. It's not fair. I want to stay here with Master Ahsoka. I don't know why she won't take me as her Padawan Learner. What did I do wrong? Am I not good at jar’kai? Is it my temper?

Obi-Wan could have berated himself for the rest of the day and there was a very large part of him that wanted to sit and wallow in his misery but the rest of him knew he needed to get up and face the day. Master Ahsoka promised she was going to have breakfast with him after being too busy with Council work for the past few days. She had taken him out to eat for dinner every night but it wasn't the same.

It felt like pity and he hated pity.

With a great groaning sigh, Obi-Wan pushed himself up out of his bed and into a hunched-over sitting position, blinking sleepily and in confusion at the carefully wrapped package on the bedside table next to his bunk.

Puzzled at the bundle wrapped up in the crisp white linens that was usually reserved for gifts given by the Jedi Order to visiting dignitaries or Senators, Obi-Wan slid bonelessly off his bed and padded over to it. He frowned at the flat, blue braided tie that was arranged around the package in a style that symbolized spring and eternity. There was a small silver charm that held the complicated knot in place and when he pulled the loose end of the tie out he realized that the silver charm was actually a small decorative belt buckle.

It reminded him of Quinlan’s buckle now that he thought about it.

Holding the belt buckle close to his chest, Obi-Wan carried the package back to his bed and set it down before flopping down next to it. Placing the buckle on his pillow, he turned his attention back to the blue tie, slowly and carefully following the ends through an elegant series of twists and knots before he finally found the blue raw silk material sliding free from his hands and the white linen.

He peeled back the corners of the formal wrapping and let out a gasp.

Sitting on a primly folded set of tan and cream Jedi robes was a small note, written in a dynamic hand. It read…

Happy early birthday, Padawan Kenobi!

Get changed and come meet your new master in the Northern Solar Room at 0800 hours.

Don’t be late!

-A

Obi-Wan picked up the notecard, his hands shaking as he turned it over and over again. He read the writing there at least eight or nine times before he could comprehend what it said and what it meant.

Does… Does this mean? Is this what I think it is? Is this from Master Ahsoka? Is she serious?

Slowly, almost as if his hands and body understood before his brain or his heart did, he reached for the first layer of folded clothing, raw hemp tabards that were woven with a geometric pattern that represented good luck and “proper development”. The traditional design was supposed to encourage Padawans to grow into their knighthood in a moral and upright manner.

He ran his hands over the fabric, trembling with a growing sense of delight and joy instead of shock for once. The tabards unspooled from his hand, soft and brown, and he couldn’t help the wide grin that unfurled to match.

Next was the cotton gauze undershirt, left undyed to symbolize a Jedi’s inner purity, and then the outer robe made of rough spun silk as an ode to the humility all Jedi were to display before the Force and the Republic they served.

Obi-Wan had sat through enough classes detailing the history and symbolism behind the Jedi habit he could practically give the speeches himself but that didn’t stop the teacher’s words from dancing around in his mind as he marveled over his new sienna brown leather belt, complete with two hovertech clips for lightsabers and the place where he could attach the belt buckle. There was even a new pair of socks and boots that he noticed resting at the foot of his bed.

“Obi-Wan?” The dorm master popped her head into the room, her voice curious. “Are you alright? I can sense you from the office.”

He looked up at the dorm master and shyly, hesitantly held up his new Padawan robes. “These were left for me?”

Please don’t let this be a dream or a horrible prank. Please let this be real. Please! I don’t think I could survive it if this were a prank.

But the dorm master’s smile told him everything he needed to know.

“I believe they were left there this morning before the first chime,” the dark-haired woman said, nodding at the wall pointedly. “I believe they might have even left you a robe.”

Obi-Wan whipped his head around to said robe hanging from a hook on the wall behind his bed and let out a gasp. “Is that mine?”

“Well, it’s certainly not mine,” the dorm master replied, her voice warm. “You had better hurry up and get dressed, Padawan Kenobi. It’s already a quarter past seven.”

And with that, she left Obi-Wan alone with his new robes and the best birthday present he had ever received.

Once he’d reassured himself several times that his layers were on in the proper order and his collars were neat, Obi-Wan stepped out of the Initiates dorm with his head held high and his brown woolen robe draped impeccably from his shoulders.

Bidding a “good morning” to the dorm master, who returned his greeting with a grin and an amused wave, Obi-Wan walked out into the Temple and made a beeline to the nearest turbolift that would carry him to the room where his master waited.

Where Jedi Knight Ahsoka Tano was waiting for him.

Almost giddy with excitement, relief, and joy, Obi-Wan took careful steps as he marched through the hallway, not wanting to step on the hems of his robe and trip or rip the fabric before he even got there. He wanted everything to be perfect for his new master and showing up with a tattered hem before he was officially a Padawan would not be a good start to their partnership.

Oh sweet Force! A partnership! I’m… I’m going to be a padawan! I was right! There was, is a connection between us! I knew it! I knew! I’m going to be Master Ahsoka’s padawan!

It really was the best birthday present he could ever get and he couldn’t wait to tell Quinlan.

After an overly stately march up some steps that got him a strange look from Master Ki-Adi-Mundi as he passed by, Obi-Wan found the turbolift that would take him up to the floor where the Norther Solar Room was. He stood in front of the curved doors, his heart drumming in his chest and his hands cold and clammy. He tried to take a deep breath but found he was too anxious and decided to settle for a few more shallow breaths before reaching out to push the button to call the lift.

When he stepped out of the carriage, habit took over as Obi-Wan’s feet carried him to the appointed room.

He could already feel Ahsoka waiting there, her presence in the Force bright and effervescent.

She was stretching on the far side of the room when he came in, her robe and sabers resting on a long row of benches that marked where the students sat during a lecture from an instructor. Working at her shoulders, rolling her arms forwards and backwards in an attempt to loosen up the joint, Ahsoka hadn’t seemed to notice Obi-Wan standing there, gazing in rapt adoration at his new master.

“Well, don’t just stand there like a newborn nerf colt,” Ahsoka said to the wall before turning to grin at him over her shoulder. “Come over here and let me see how you look, Padawan Kenobi.”

An electric thrill of joy shivered through Obi-Wan and he stepped into the sunny room with a face-splitting grin and his hands firmly placed at his sides as he bowed formally to his new master. “I am here and ready for your instruction, Master.”

Laughing, she nodded, her eyes shining with a happiness that almost equaled Obi-Wan’s. “Good. Now get over here!”

Needing no further encouragement, Obi-Wan darted across the room, happily flinging himself into Ahsoka’s arms for the warmest and strongest hug he had ever experienced in his short life. He clung tight to her, his eyes closed, basking in the way the Force seemed to sing around them, the way the light seemed brighter and the shadows paler. He felt almost buoyant, as if he could just float away on a sunbeam like a very large dust mote.

“Thank you thank you thank you!” Obi-Wan mumbled into her shoulder, his eyes closed as emotions welled up inside of him, threatening to swamp his balance. “I didn’t want to go. I didn’t want to leave you.”

Ahsoka let out a soft and happy sound as she stroked Obi-Wan’s hair and held him close, her own heart filling with joy. “I know. I’m sorry I made you wait so long. I… I wasn’t sure what the Force wanted of me. But now I know.”

Obi-Wan pulled away, rubbing at his eyes and nose because he was not crying. This was a wonderful day and he refused to cry. Padawans did not cry. They were calm and centered like Master Ahsoka. “W-what does the Force want of you?”

Brushing the thick fringe of his bangs off his face, Ahsoka gazed deep into Obi-Wan’s blue-grey eyes and smiled. “It wants me to take you as my Padawan Learner. Will you accept me as your teacher, Obi-Wan Kenobi?”

“Yes! Yes!” Obi-Wan almost shouted, tears forgotten and excitement pounding through his veins again. “I do! I accept you! Let’s go tell the Council right now! Jar’kai can wait! Let’s go right now!”

Ahsoka burst out laughing at this, a sound that filled the room with so much elation and light that Obi-Wan wondered if they were going to burn the hovering candle lights overhead. When Luminara had been accepted as a padawan it was a very solemn affair and Quinlan had simply shown up one day with a padawan braid and a wry grin. As far as Obi-Wan was concerned, though, he didn't particularly care how it was formalized so long as It was.

“We’ll go to the Council. I promise.” Ahsoka sat them both down on the bench, smiling down at Obi-Wan almost as if she couldn't quite believe he was there. “But there's something I have to do first. Something I have to prove to myself. I want to be the best master possible for you. You are so, so special.”

Obi-Wan had nothing to say to that.

Well, that wasn’t quite true. Obi-Wan had a great many things to say about that, about how ferociously he disagreed with his master’s belief that he was somehow more special than Bant or Luminara or even Quinlan. He refused to believe that she was in any way lacking as a Jedi Knight or as a Master and he absolutely knew in the depths of his soul that Master Ahsoka did not need to prove a thing to the Force.

Ahsoka had more than proven herself to him in all the ways that mattered. She was kind, compassionate, and patient. She didn’t yell at him when he made a mistake but gently corrected. She laughed at his jokes and smiled at him with a twinkle in her eyes that reminded him of Master Yoda in all the best ways. She shared her wisdom freely and her faith in herself, in her master, and the Force was unyielding.

Ahsoka Tano was the perfect Jedi Knight in Obi-Wan’s eyes and as far as he was concerned, and since he was now her padawan, his concern was all that mattered.

“Master…” Obi-Wan carefully martialed his thoughts to explain that whatever test of character Ahsoka was preparing to undergo was completely unnecessary. “You don’t have to do this. I know you are the best possible Jedi Master for me. I am certain Master Skywalker would agree.”

“Oh, don’t you bring him into this!” Ahsoka teased, needling Obi-Wan in the ribs, which managed to tickle him just enough to fluster him. “And besides… He would agree with me. I need to do this.”

“Do what?” Obi-Wan protested, realizing that there was a part of him that felt a rising sense of uneasiness. The radiant Force of only a few minutes ago was now choppy and disturbed, like a shore being buffeted by the oncoming winds of a hurricane. He did not like it. “Master… please, I don’t want you to do this. Please can’t we just go to the Council?”

“Do forgive my tardiness, Knight Tano,” Qui-Gon Jinn’s voice pierced the early morning peace of the training room like the low throbbing hum of a laser cannon. “I was waylaid by Master Yoda on my way here.”

Obi-Wan turned slowly to gaze in shock and perhaps a bit of fear at the sight of Master Jinn, of the way he emerged from the gauzy sunbeams filtering down through the chamber’s high stained-glass windows. For a moment there was something dangerous in Master Jinn’s eyes, in the sharp way they flicked from Ahsoka to Obi-Wan and back again.

Obi-Wan slid closer to his master and watched the Jedi master with round eyes.

I don’t want him here. He’s not supposed to be here. Obi-Wan thought behind his shields, throwing them up as high and as fast as he could.

He didn’t know what his own master had planned, but he already didn’t like it.

“There’s no need to apologize,” Ahsoka said, standing up and stepping between Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon in a casual but subtle move of defense and separation. There was no need for this early morning session to be contentious. Ahsoka had asked for Qui-Gon’s assistance and he had accepted. Obi-Wan’s presence was ancillary.

It was absolutely not a silent rebuke and a taunting of the older Jedi, she tried to tell herself. That was not how Obi-Wan and Padme had raised Ahsoka to behave and Anakin wouldn’t have thought that far ahead.

“Thank you again for agreeing to spar with me,” Ahsoka continued when the silence got too awkward. “My padawan has been very curious to see jar’kai in action.”

“Your… padawan?” Qui-Gon echoed, looking past Ahsoka to Obi-Wan sitting on the bench with his arms folded over his chest. “I was under the impression that Initiate Kenobi was going to be transferring to the Agricorps shortly.”

Ahsoka could feel Obi-Wan bristling in the Force and wondered when Master Obi-Wan had learned his impeccable shielding because if her padawan was going to turn into a bundle of spines every time he was offended or hurt, they were going to have their work cut out for them. She hesitantly reached out along the newly discovered bright copper thread that tied them together, sending a tendril of peace and serenity to Obi-Wan, who took a deep breath and tried to retract his spines.

Well, that’s something at least, Ahsoka thought as she mentally turned back to Qui-Gon. “He was but I have discussed it with Master Windu and he feels that Obi-Wan and I would be a good match. After our sparring demonstration, he and I are going to the Council to make it official.”

“I see,” Qui-Gon rumbled, folding his arms over his chest as he fiddled with his beard. “How fortunate for Initiate Kenobi to be taken under the wing of such a compassionate Jedi Knight.”

And Obi-Wan’s spines were back with an added dose of projected curse words she was didn’t expect someone his age to know.

“Yes, well, I’m the lucky one, really. Obi-Wan is an amazing student,” Ahsoka continued, breezing through the conversation as best she could, given that Qui-Gon Jinn seemed to be doing everything in his power to be just annoying enough to raise her hackles but not so terrible that she could storm off with Obi-Wan in a huff. “I am really looking forward to teaching him.”

But first, Ahsoka thought, she needed to prove to herself that she was the best choice for Obi-Wan, that she could best this looming shadow of a man and cast out the treacherous “what ifs” from her mind. As close as Ahsoka and Obi-Wan had become, she knew it wasn’t quite enough. She needed something to show herself, to prove to her heart, if not her mind, that she was the right person for the job.

If she was going to be Obi-Wan’s master, then it only made sense that she would have to defeat his “old” master.

Qui-Gon Jinn was not impressed by what he saw before him.

A scruffy, small initiate who radiated spite and possessive attachment in the Force and a seemingly calm and placid Jedi Knight who was in actuality about two heartbeats away from pulling her sabers out and starting a fight.

If Qui-Gon was the kind of man given to eyeball rolling, if Dooku hadn’t beaten that out of him, he might done it just for the novelty of their reactions.

But the situation before him was far too serious to be handled so glibly and so he realized he would have turn this contentious “sparring session” into a teaching moment; one that would focus on attachment and the importance of following the will of the Living Force.

Which had clearly decreed that Obi-Wan Kenobi was to go to Bandomeer.

No.

Momentarily confused, Qui-Gon asked for a moment to “compose himself for our sparring” and walked over to a far corner, stepping out of a piercing ray of sunlight into the cooler shadows at the edges of the training room.

No? No? What exactly did that mean? The Living Force so rarely spoke to Qui-Gon in such a clear and easily understood way. Its guidance was often couched in visions and feelings, like an external intuition that he could tap into when he needed it. It always took a bit of meditating to understand what he saw or experienced but his faith in the Force was absolute.

And the Living Force had clearly spoken just now.

But if Obi-Wan Kenobi were destined to have a master, the fated pairing would have happened before now, Qui-Gon told himself. Indeed, most future Master-Padawan pairings were starting to coalesce around the beginning of the second year of Initiate training. That way the potential master could follow the development of their intended padawan.

Obi-Wan and his temper and riotous sea of emotions had found no favor in any of the masters or unattached knights at the Temple and so he had been left alone to quietly age out.

Until Ahsoka Tano appeared.

And now that Qui-Gon was thinking about it, there was something strange about Knight Tano, about the way she carried herself and the way she stood between Obi-Wan and anyone she deemed to be a threat. She walked with the fluid grace of a warrior, someone who had seen more than their fair share of battle and she gazed out at the world with intense, watchful eyes.

Even in the Force she seemed different and threatening to Qui-Gon. With every glance his impression of Tano seemed to change, from a simple Jedi with more than average gifts to a crowned being escorted by a large and ferocious beast of light and sacrifice to a final vision that was so bizarre and confusing as to be little more than nonsense.

All it did was confirm to Qui-Gon that Ahsoka’s mentoring of Obi-Wan was wrong. The boy was to go to Bandomeer and the Council could decide what to do with Ahsoka Tano.

No. Obi-Wan Kenobi will be a Jedi.

The Living Force swirled up around Qui-Gon, blinding him for a moment as image after image burnt themselves into his retinas.

Well, I could always blow myself up, Master. Obi-Wan smiled with patently fake cheer as he politely offered to commit suicide to save Qui-Gon and the rest of the slaves on some kind of ship. There was something so hollow in his voice, in his presence in the Force, and it called out to Qui-Gon, begged him to take the oncoming burden from too-small shoulders.

I cannot leave them, Master! I cannot abandon them in the middle of this war! Defiance flashed in those blue-grey eyes as a slightly older Obi-Wan stood in front of Qui-Gon, his master, and refused to return to the Temple. Qui-Gon’s patience was at its end and he saw himself turn away, to abandon the boy on the war-torn planet, to leave him in that hellhole to find his own way out.

His own way through heartbreak.

I will have you know, Master, that I carried the Duchess all the way across that field of venom-mites!

Qui-Gon did not understand why he found Obi-Wan’s sniff of wounded pride so endearing but it warmed his heart and told him all would be well one day. Once the Duchess was safe and they returned to the Temple.

If Obi-Wan didn’t leave him for the pretty little blonde daydreamer.

Why are we going to Naboo? Obi-Wan was taller now, almost fully grown and his eyes burned like blue-white fire with a need to prove himself, to become his own man and take the Trials. There was distance there, something Qui-Gon couldn’t bridge, couldn’t stop from happening. They moved further and further apart, as surely as two continents separated by a divergent fault.

He had held onto Obi-Wan for too long and now it was tearing their bond apart.

Anakin Skywalker, meet Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Hello! Are you a Jedi, too?

And everything sundered, shattered, and crashed to the ground, a light rain made of broken dreams. The Force hissed and the fog of images faded away, leaving Qui-Gon with the uncomfortable realization that he had just seen the future.

A future where he was Obi-Wan Kenobi’s Jedi master.

The Force had spoken with great clarity and Qui-Gon had to obey its will.

“Knight Tano, a moment if you please?”