#the Jedi Council is SLACKING holy hell

[seaofsunberries]

I’VE CAUGHT UP AGAIN BABY!!!!

Okay, I have many, MANY thoughts about the Jedi council but I’ve come to realize that I . . . Do not know much about Star Wars lore and I have zero Jedi Council comprehension and I don’t really want to sound like an idiot, so I’ll just say DAMN they’re not handling anything Goldie or Anakin related well and leave at that. ^^;

On to something I can talk about without seeming completely dumb (hopefully): Goldie. Damn the poor girl cannot get a break, I am so upset for her. She is not in a good place rn and I hope she doesn’t go down the Anakin pathway. I just want her and Rex to be happy. I know you’re probably tired of me saying this, but I really hope Goldie eventually does leave the order and . . . Idk get away from this war and vengeance stuff because she is just so unhealthy and unhappy. She deserves better.

Obi-Wan’s inaction/reaction to the first time Goldie was begging someone to believe/listen to her when she was talking about Yaddle’s death rearing its ugly head now. They were trying to move past it, but some things leave a permanent scar or even a permanent wound that can always be agitated later down the road. Unfortunately, Obi-Wan is seeing that permanent wound.

Please take your time and take care of yourself!!! You come first and the fic comes second. We’re willing to wait for however long you need.

Burnout is no joke. Severe cases can take a full year to recover from — don’t push yourself to that point. Take breaks! Take care of yourself! Stay hydrated!

I’m wishing you the best and hoping for the best holidays for you!! Thank you for writing for us.

Event Horizon

Chapter Twenty: Precipice

Chapter WC: 5,689

Chapter Warnings: This is a rough one, I think we all knew it was going to be rough but just reiterating, Jedi Council fuckery is afoot

A/N: We're back in the building again (emotional). This is where I flag that our girl is perhaps not the most reliable narrator, but damn if she isn't at least a little justified.

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Coruscant, 21 BBY

Anger.

It's all you can feel. It's the only thing that exists, all-consuming and burning hot, a fury that leaves you shaking. The rage is a living thing, a beast clawing at your chest, a monster tearing at your heart, threatening to swallow you whole.

You are standing on a precipice, a thin thread of sanity keeping you tethered to reality.

Your mind is a storm.

They won't listen. 

They won't even look at you.

You knew it was a long shot, but still, you'd held out hope. Even now, when you're sitting in the middle of the Council chamber, staring at the faces of the men and women you once considered your family, a small part of you is whispering that it might still work.

It won't.

You can see it in their eyes. They won't even pretend to hear you. They've barely acknowledged the proof. The proof that Obi-Wan delivered personally. The proof that Rex has risked his life and career to find.

They didn't even bat an eye. It was like they'd known it was coming, like they'd been expecting it. Like it meant nothing.

But it's all you have.

Yaddle's lightsaber is clutched firmly in your hand, so tight your knuckles white and the metal bites into the flesh of your palm. Your eyes dart across the room. Each member is staring back at you, their faces blank. You're the only one standing, your legs carrying you restlessly from side to side. You can't sit still. Not with them looking at you like that. Not when they're acting like this.

Obi-Wan is seated a few feet away, his posture stiff, his gaze fixed on a spot somewhere behind your shoulder. He hasn't met your eyes since he'd shown the Council the evidence and taken his seat beside them. It was a choice, and a deliberate one. He'd made his decision. He'd chosen his side.

It shouldn't surprise you.

You'd known it would be bad. You'd expected hostility, and defensiveness, and a general lack of interest. What you hadn't expected was the silence, the looks of pity. The complete and utter disregard for Yaddle's memory.

It's as if they're only waiting for you to finish, waiting for you to walk away and accept the inevitable.

You're not going to.

"How could you?" you whisper. Your voice is hoarse, and raw, and you sound desperate, even to your own ears. "How could you just let her disappear like that? She was a Jedi Master, a member of this Council. After everything she's done, everything she's sacrificed, you're going to let her memory fade away? How can you do that? How can you do that to her?"

No one speaks. No one moves. You're the only one standing. You're the only one who cares.

The tears threaten to spill, and you blink rapidly, trying to keep them at bay. Your heart is pounding, and the air is thick with the Force, a pressure building in the back of your mind. For years, you'd been begging for a chance to make them listen. Now, it's all you can do not to scream.

"It was Dooku," you say, your voice breaking. "Count Dooku. He did this."

Still, no one moves.

You glance at Obi-Wan, and he winces, a grimace flashing across his features. You know he can feel it. The pain. The grief. It's eating away at you, devouring your soul. Your emotions are raw and volatile, and there's a crackling in your chest, a heat building inside you. You're shaking, your fists clenched, and the air around you seems to vibrate. The tight grip on your control is slipping, and a part of you doesn't care. A part of you wants to tear this room apart. To make them feel even a fraction of what you're feeling.

You can see Master Yoda watching you out of the corner of your eye, his gaze never wavering. He's the only one who hasn't looked away, and he's not moving, either. He's sitting as still as stone, his hands resting on his knees, his expression placid. If you didn't know better, you'd think he was in a trance.

You can't bring yourself to look directly at him.

"Answer me," you snap, and your head snaps around, glaring at each member of the Council in turn. "How could you do this? How could you ignore this?"

There's a long pause, and Master Yoda finally sighs, his ears drooping.

"Spoken enough, we have," he murmurs. His tone is calm, his voice low, spoken as if he were talking to a child. It's condescending. Patronizing. And it only fuels the anger. "Time it has come, for you to listen."

"Listen to what?" you snarl. "Your lies? Your excuses?"

"Yourself, young one."

The words are spoken softly, but there's a hint of sadness to them, a note of sympathy. It's enough to give you pause, the anger ebbing slightly

"What?" you snap.

"Lost in grief, you are." He closes his eyes, his lips pressing together, a crease appearing on his forehead. "Forgotten the wisdom of Master Yaddle, you have."

"I haven't forgotten anything," you hiss. "She was murdered, and—"

"The Council has decided," Master Windu cuts you off, his eyes flashing. "This matter is settled."

"Settled," you echo. Your mouth twists, and you shake your head, your brows furrowing. "No. No, it's not settled. Not until someone answers for what happened to her. Her murderer is out there, and he's still running free. We can't just sit here and do nothing."

His eyes narrow. "We are not doing nothing."

You stare at him, unable to comprehend what he's saying. You're breathing heavily, your body shaking, and it feels like your heart is going to beat out of your chest. You want to scream. You want to run. You want to throw something, or break something, or hurt something. Anything. Anything is better than this. Better than watching them look at you like this, as if they can't understand why you're upset. As if they can't comprehend why you would be so angry.

As if the fact that a member of their Order was murdered means nothing.

Obi-Wan shifts, his posture tense. His expression is pained, and his hands are clasped in front of him, his gaze fixed on a point behind your shoulder. He doesn't move, doesn't speak, and, for a brief moment, you think about reaching out through your bond. You think about demanding that he help. But, then you remember.

You remember that he chose this. You remember that he is, in fact, a part of this. A part of whatever game they're playing. A part of this lie.

The anger is replaced by hurt, and you're struck by the sudden realization that he's never been on your side. That, when it comes down to it, he's always been with them. Always. No matter how much he says he's your friend, no matter how many times he claims that he's looking out for you, it's not true. Not really. He's one of them, and he's always going to choose them. He's never going to choose you. Not now, not ever.

"Yaddle deserved better," you hiss. "She deserved justice."

"And she will get it," Master Windu says calmly. "In time."

Your eyes flash, and you grit your teeth, biting back the retort. Your fingers tighten around the hilt of her lightsaber, the metal creaking under the pressure. The pain is grounding. It's the only thing keeping you from breaking down, but you know that the moment you release the blade, the anger will take over.

You're not sure what will happen then.

"Time," you spit. "That's your answer? More time? Hasn't ten years been enough?"

"The Council has decided," Master Mundi snaps, his voice hard. "Your outbursts are a waste of time, and a distraction. I suggest you learn to control your emotions before you embarrass yourself any further."

You gape at him, your mouth hanging open, voice dying in your throat. A wave of shame washes over you, and you swallow. A distraction. That's all you are. An annoyance. A burden. Someone who needs to be controlled.

The truth stings, but it's a familiar one. You've been treated as a child, as an outsider, for most of your life. Even now, even after everything you've done, everything you've accomplished, it's still all they see. A lost, helpless, little girl.

You hate it.

"A distraction," you repeat, your voice soft. There's a hollow note to your words, a numbness that's spreading through you, and you can feel your anger dissipating, fading away into a cold, empty nothingness.

Master Mundi's gaze softens, and he lets out a sigh, his hands folding in his lap. "I didn't mean—"

"You're right," you interrupt, your eyes meeting his. You don't need him to explain. You know exactly what he meant. "You're right. This is a waste of time."

You turn and head for the door, walking briskly. You can't stay in here a moment longer. You can't look at them, or listen to them. It's too much. Too much, and not enough, and it's tearing you apart. You have to leave. You have to get out.

"Stop."

The command is firm, and it echoes in the chamber, reverberating through the Force. You stop in your tracks, your eyes closing. It's Master Yoda's voice. You can't disobey it.

"Leave, you will not," he says quietly, and there's a hint of something new in his tone, something warm and gentle and familiar. Something that sounds suspiciously like sorrow. "Your place, this is. Come back. Listen."

"My place," you murmur. The words are bitter, and they taste like ash in your mouth. You can't bring yourself to move. Your mind is screaming, and your body is frozen, your muscles locked in place. And you know that if you turn around, it will be worse.

"Yes," he confirms, his voice still low. "Your place."

You clench your jaw, and you shake your head, unable to speak. You want nothing more than to run, to get as far away from the Council as possible. From the Order. From all of it.

But, he's right. Your place is here. It's all you've ever known. And, the idea of leaving is unthinkable.

Slowly, you turn, your gaze drifting across the chamber, settling on Master Yoda. He's watching you, his expression neutral, but you can see it. The sadness. He looks tired, and old, and weary, his shoulders sagging beneath an invisible weight.

Your heart twists, and you feel a surge of empathy. You've never seen him look like that before. You've never seen him look defeated. It's unsettling, and you have no idea what to make of it.

You swallow, and take a deep breath, steeling yourself.

"Alright," you say, and your voice is calm, even. The opposite of how you feel, and yet, you find that it's not hard. Not as hard as you'd thought. Perhaps because you've spent a lifetime learning how to hide your emotions, to bury them, to bury everything. You've had a lot of practice.

The Council is quiet, and you can feel their eyes on you, but you keep your gaze fixed on Master Yoda. The two of you are locked in a silent battle, neither willing to break contact. Neither willing to admit defeat.

The silence stretches, and you shift your stance, leaning forward, your weight resting on your toes. Your hand tightens around Yaddle's lightsaber, and you take a deep breath, gathering your strength.

"Let's hear it, then," you say. Your voice is firm, and unwavering, and there's a confidence to it that surprises even you. You square your shoulders, and straighten, tilting your chin. "What is it that you need to tell me, Master Yoda?"

The corner of his mouth quirks, and his expression softens, a hint of amusement in his eyes. 

"Good," he says. His ears twitch, and his gaze sweeps over you, assessing, evaluating. He gives a slight nod, seemingly satisfied with what he sees. "Better."

Your lips part, but no sound comes out. For a moment, you're not sure what to say, or if you should say anything. Then, you shake your head, and take a step forward, a scowl spreading across your face.

"Fine," you hiss. "I'll play along. I'm listening. Now, what is it? What is it that's so important? What is it that's been so difficult to tell me? Tell me, so we can get this over with."

You can feel Obi-Wan flinch, and his gaze darts to Master Windu, his expression uncertain.

"There is another matter," Master Windu speaks up. His tone is careful, and measured, his gaze darting to Master Yoda. He clears his throat, and looks back at you. "A personal matter. One that involves you."

A cold sense of dread begins to settle over you. A personal matter. One that involves you. You don't like where this is going. You don't like it at all.

Your mind races, trying to think of what else they could possibly want to talk about. What else could possibly be worth this, worth everything they've put you through.

And then, it hits you.

Your blood turns to ice, and a chill runs down your spine, goosebumps erupting along your arms.

Try as you might to stop it, your head snaps to Obi-Wan, finding his face. You search his expression, your gaze darting over every inch of his features, trying to read his reaction. He's not looking at you. He's staring at Master Windu, his lips pressed together, his hands gripping his robes.

He looks guilty.

Your stomach lurches, and your eyes widen, realization washing over you. You'd hoped. You'd prayed. You'd wished and wished and wished that it wouldn't come to this. That he wouldn't betray you like this. He promised. He promised that he wouldn't interfere with whatever you have with Rex. That he wanted you to be happy. That he would do anything to make sure you were safe.

But, here you are.

The betrayal is enough to bring the anger rushing back, and your hand grips the hilt of Yaddle's lightsaber, your nails digging into the metal. You glare at Obi-Wan, and his eyes flick up, meeting yours. He winces, but he holds your gaze, the sorrow in his eyes almost palpable.

You should have known. Of course he would do this. Of course. It's exactly what you'd expect from him. He's always been like this, always putting duty above all else, always prioritizing the Code, even if it meant hurting you. But, this...this is too far.

Master Windu speaking, saying something, but his voice is a dull buzz in your ears. You can't hear him. Your brain is screaming at you to leave, to run, to get out. Get out before it's too late. Get out while you can. But, your feet are rooted to the floor, and you can't move, can't look away.

Your eyes are locked on Obi-Wan's, and the fury is boiling over, burning hot, scorching.

"—promotion. It's time. You're ready."

The words snap you back to reality, and you blink, tearing your gaze away from Obi-Wan, forcing yourself to focus.

"What?" you ask.

"A promotion," Master Windu repeats.

The words break through the haze, and you frown, your brows furrowing. Your mind is reeling, and you try to make sense of what he's saying, but it's like your brain is short-circuiting, everything going fuzzy. The anger and betrayal is pushed aside for a brief moment as you find yourself staring at him, disbelief replacing the rage.

"What?" you choke out.

"The Council taken your recommendation into consideration, and we've agreed," Master Windu says. His voice is low, his gaze never leaving yours. "A new brigade is needed, and Commander Booker will lead it. You will be his superior officer, and he will report directly to you."

You gape at him, unable to respond. He's serious. He's completely serious.

The words echo in your mind, and you feel yourself go cold, your knees threatening to buckle. You fumble to keep your grip on Yaddle's lightaber, and you can hear your heart pounding in your ears, a rush of blood and static and white noise. It's all you can hear. All you can feel.

"What?" you breathe.

Your gaze darts between the Council members, and each one meets your eyes, their faces solemn. Master Plo's head dips in agreement, and Master Ki-Adi-Mundi is nodding, his expression serious. Even Master Windu is watching you, his jaw set, his hands folded. There's no malice in his eyes. No deception. They're serious.

The Council has decided.

It's too much. It's all too much.

Master Yoda is watching you, his eyes wide, his ears perked. His lips are turned up slightly, a faint smile on his face. He seems pleased with himself, with this turn of events. But, there's something else there, too. Something like regret.

He knows what this means.

"Surprised, are you?" he asks. "Happy, I would expect you to be."

"No," you reply. You shake your head, and take a step back, nearly stumbling. "I'm not happy. This isn't...it's not... This is a mistake."

"This is not a mistake," Master Plo speaks up. "This is well deserved."

"No," you say again, louder this time. Your voice cracks, and your throat is raw, tears pricking at your eyes. "No, it's not. I didn’t—I only meant to recommend Booker. To help him. I didn't mean— I didn't want—"

"You may not have intended to do so, but the decision was made nonetheless," Master Windu counters. He steeples his fingers and leans forward, his dark eyes narrowed. "There is no debate. Your role as General is essential."

"This is ridiculous," you snap. "I'm not—"

"You are," he interrupts. His voice is sharp, and the words cut through the air like a knife. You suck in a breath, and your jaw snaps shut. "You've proven yourself. You're capable, and you're intelligent, and you're more than deserving. You're ready."

Your breath leaves you in a rush, and you stare at him, blinking rapidly, trying to process his words. An entire brigade, a legion of men, all reporting directly to you. The responsibility, the pressure, the expectations. It's a nightmare. And, yet, here it is, standing before you, a reality.

"If it were up to me, this would have happened months ago," he continues. "I have no doubts, none at all, about your ability to command."

"This is insane," you mutter. "Completely insane."

"This is necessary," Master Windu says, his voice firm. "This is not a punishment. This is a reward."

"I don't want a reward," you manage, your voice barely a whisper. "Not like this. I just wanted—"

"You wanted justice," Mace says. He sighs, and he stands, his robes swishing as he walks towards you. He stops a few feet away, and he raises his hands, placing them on your shoulders. "And you will get it. But, not today."

You swallow, and you blink, tears stinging your eyes. The anger is gone, replaced by something else. Something worse. You feel helpless, and alone, and lost. And, above all, terrified.

"Not today, not tomorrow," you mumble. You shrug his hands off, stepping back, turning away from him. "Nothing ever—"

Obi-Wan stands abruptly, and the sound of his chair scraping against the floor cuts off the end of your sentence. He turns, his gaze landing on you, his eyes flashing. You can feel his anger through the bond, and it only fuels your own, a renewed surge of rage coursing through your veins.

"Enough," he hisses. His hands are clenched at his sides, and he stalks toward you, stopping just short of touching you. "We've heard enough."

His voice is cold, final. He's not asking, he's not giving you a choice. He's telling you to stop. To back off.

Your eyes narrow, and you glare at him, your chin jutting out. You're clutching it so tightly that the metal bites into your palm, and for a split second, you think about using it. The thought is extinguished a moment later, but not without consequence. You know he felt it. You know that he sensed it. He can't miss it. Not after all this time. Not with him.

"Enough, we have," Master Yoda murmurs. "Settled, this matter is."

"Yaddle's death is tragic, and her loss was a blow to us all. But, her legacy will live on. Her memory will guide us," Master Windu continues, his tone even. "The war will not last forever. We must focus on the future. And, the future lies with the Jedi. We'll discuss the details of your assignment later. For now, you're dismissed."

Obi-Wan's hand encloses around your arm, and he tugs, pulling you towards the exit. You stumble after him, struggling to keep up, still reeling from what's happening.

He's muttering something under his breath, his voice harsh and low. You catch the words 'ridiculous' and 'obstinate' and 'misunderstanding.' The two of you cross the room in a blur, and then the doors are opening, and the light from the corridor washes over you. It's blinding, and you shield your eyes, blinking rapidly.

Obi-Wan doesn't let go. His hand remains on your arm, and his fingers dig into your flesh, the pressure almost painful. He pulls you along, his strides long and purposeful. Your mind is racing, the events replaying over and over, the conversation playing on a loop. You're barely aware of where he's taking you. You're just moving.

The sound of the door opening pulls you out of your daze, and you realize he's taken you to his rooms. He releases you and steps back, the door sliding shut behind him. You spin around, glaring at him, ready to unleash a barrage of questions.

He's already speaking, his voice clipped.

"That could have gone better," he says. His arms fold across his chest, and he leans against his desk, his gaze never wavering from yours. "It could have gone much better."

You gape at him, momentarily speechless. Your jaw works, and you sputter, trying to find the words, to formulate a response.

"You—I can't—" You pause, trying to collect yourself. "You're lecturing me? You're actually lecturing me? After everything that's happened?"

"You need to learn when to give up," Obi-Wan shoots back. He runs a hand over his beard, a frown pulling at his lips. "You've accomplished nothing. Absolutely nothing. If anything, you've made it worse."

"You said you'd help me," you accuse. Your eyes narrow, and your fingers flex around Yaddle's lightsaber, digging into the hilt. "You said you would. You promised."

"I tried," he counters. He pushes off his desk, walking towards you, his shoulders tense. "I did. I did everything I could, but you—you weren't listening. You never listen. And you're going to get yourself killed."

"That's not your call," you snap. "That's not your decision to make."

"It's not mine," he agrees. He stops in front of you, his eyes blazing. "But, I won't let you jeopardize this, not anymore. The war is too important, and it needs your full attention. You can't afford distractions."

"My full attention," you echo. Your jaw drops, and you scoff, shaking your head. "Are you serious? You're not—you're not my keeper. You don't get to tell me what I can and can't do."

"No," Obi-Wan concedes. "But, I can tell you when you're making a mistake. And this, this is a mistake. You're letting your emotions cloud your judgment, and you're not thinking clearly. Again. This isn't just about Yaddle. It's more than that."

"More," you repeat. Your hands ball into fists, and your nails bite into your palms, drawing blood. The anger is boiling over, threatening to spill over. "You have no idea—"

"It's not just her," he says. His gaze bores into yours, and his eyes flash, a hint of fear in them. "It's him. He's clouding your judgment, and it's putting everything, and everyone, at risk. Including him. Including yourself."

"So you did do it," you whisper. Your eyes burn, and your throat closes, a lump forming. "You told them."

"What?" He frowns, and his brows knit together. He's genuinely confused, and it only infuriates you more. "Told them what?"

"About Rex," you snap. "About the two of us."

"What?" he repeats. Obi-Wan blinks, and he stares at you, his expression incredulous, before he lets out a bark of laughter. It's a short, sharp sound, and it's not a happy one. "That's what you think? You actually think I did that? After everything I said?"

"Yes!"

"Oh, my dear, you've really lost it," he mutters. He rubs his temples, and shakes his head, a weary sigh escaping his lips. "No, I didn't tell them. No, I wouldn't. Not now, not ever."

"You didn't—" Your lips part, and you gape at him, stunned. You'd been so sure. So certain. And now, you're not sure of anything. "How do I know? How can I trust you?"

"I haven't done a single thing to lose your trust," Obi-Wan says. His tone is sharp, and his jaw is set, his face hard. "Everything I've done has been for your sake. To protect you. To help you. All of it. And, this is how you repay me? With distrust and suspicion? I thought we were past this."

"We were," you say. You can feel the tears forming, and you blink, trying to hold them back. "We were. I didn't mean—I didn't think—"

"Exactly," Obi-Wan finishes. He runs a hand over his hair, and his eyes dart to the ceiling, his frustration evident. "You didn't think. Not once. Not until it was too late."

"That's not fair," you mutter.

"Life isn't fair," he shoots back. He glares at you, and his eyes are narrowed, his brows drawn. "I know you're angry, but this isn't going to help. It's not going to change anything. And, if you think that I would do this to you, to us, you don't know me at all."

"Maybe I don't," you snap. Your chin juts out, and your hands ball into fists, and you glare back, holding his gaze. "Maybe we don't know each other. Not anymore."

The words are meant to hurt, and they do. He winces, and his expression falters, a flicker of pain crossing his features. But, a moment later, his mask slips back into place, and he's staring at you, his eyes flashing.

"That's a cheap shot," he says, his tone flat.

"Yeah," you agree, and you shrug, your eyes burning. "It is."

The silence stretches between you, and you can feel his gaze on you, intense and searching. He's looking for something, and, after a moment, his expression softens, his mouth twisting.

"Is that really what you think?" he asks. His voice is quiet, almost a whisper. "That I don't care about you?"

You suck in a breath, and you turn away from him, your eyes falling closed.

"I don't know what to think anymore," you admit. You press your lips together, and swallow, trying to push down the emotion threatening to overflow. "You just stood there and let them do this to me. You didn't say a word. You didn't stop them."

"I tried," he protests. He takes a step toward you, his hands rising, as if to reach for you, before falling back to his sides. "What was I supposed to say? What was I supposed to do? I tried."

"Not hard enough," you hiss.

"I'm sorry," he says. "I am. I'm sorry. But, this is what needs to happen."

"You could have fought harder," you say. Yaddle's lightsaber is a weight in your hand, a physical reminder of what you've lost. Your fingers tighten around it, and your vision blurs, hot tears pricking at your eyes. "You could have done something. I thought...I thought..."

"You thought what?" Obi-Wan asks, his voice soft. "That I would go up against the entire Council? For you? What good would it have done? It wouldn't have changed anything."

"It would have mattered," you mutter. You scrub at your face, wiping away the tears, refusing to look at him. Though the anger is still burning, the pain is seeping through, and the words are tumbling out of you before you can stop them. "It would have made a difference. It would have meant something."

"It would have meant nothing," he counters. His hand closes around your wrist, and he gently pulls it away from your face, forcing you to look at him. "I'm sorry, but I can't do that. I won't. This is what's best, and, eventually, you'll see that. When this is all over, and we're on the other side of the war, everything will be different. Better."

"No," you whisper. "It won't."

Your shoulders slump, and the anger drains out of you, leaving you feeling hollow. You look down, unable to meet his eyes. You can't even bring yourself to care. Not anymore. The fight has gone out of you. 

All the energy, all the fire, all the passion, is gone. It's like a switch has been flipped, the fury replaced by an overwhelming sense of exhaustion.

You can't do this anymore.

Obi-Wan lets out a shaky breath, and his hand drops, his fingers curling into his palm.

"This is too much," you mumble. You shake your head, and you run a hand over your hair, pulling at it. Your eyes sting, and your throat feels raw, a lump forming. "I can't keep doing this. I can't keep fighting for nothing."

"I understand," he says. He sounds tired. "You've been through a lot. We all have. It's not going to be easy, but we have to keep going. We have to keep fighting."

"Stop." The word is a whisper, a breath, and you shake your head, your gaze lifting, finding his. "Just. Stop, Obi-Wan. I can't hear it right now."

His eyes widen, and his lips part, surprise flickering across his features. He hadn't expected that. He hadn't expected any of this.

"Please," he breathes, his voice low. "Let me help."

"There's nothing to help," you say, the words catching in your throat. They're the truth, the bitter reality you've been ignoring for too long. "I'm tired, Obi-Wan. I'm exhausted. And I don't...I can't..."

"It's going to be okay," he says softly.

"No, it's not," you say. You lift your head, the tears drying on your cheeks, the hurt etched into your face. "It's not okay. Nothing's okay. Yaddle's dead. The Council doesn't care. Nothing's changed. And this war...I thought...I thought that if I came here, if I brought the evidence, that they'd finally listen. That they'd finally see what I've been trying to tell them."

"I know," he murmurs.

"But they didn't," you choke out. The tears start again, and your chin quivers, and it's all you can do not to break down. "They didn't. They won't. And I...I just can't...I can't keep doing this. I can't."

"I'm sorry," Obi-Wan says, his eyes searching your face. He takes a step forward, and his hands cup your cheeks, his thumb brushing over your skin. He's gentle, and warm, and his touch is soothing. But, it's not enough. Not now. Not after everything.

"I can't do this anymore," you repeat. You reach up and grasp his hands, prying them away from your face, holding them in front of you. You can't look at him, your eyes fixed on the tremor in his fingers, on the way his hands shake.

"I know," he repeats.

"No, I don't think you do," you say.

You let go of him, and the air rushes out of you, the tension draining from your body. You're empty. You're nothing. It's a familiar feeling, one you've felt before. One you've tried so hard to escape. But, here it is, back again. Taunting you. It's enough to make you want the anger back. The anger is better. It's easier.

Obi-Wan is watching you, his expression uncertain, his hands clasped in front of him. You can feel his anxiety through the bond, the fear, the worry.

"I have to go," you say.

You turn and head for the door, not looking back. There's nothing else to say.

"Wait," he calls out. He follows, his footsteps echoing in the room. "Just wait a minute. Please. Let's talk about this."

"What's there to talk about?" you ask. The door opens, and you step into the corridor, the bright lights washing over you. You can hear him behind you, and you can feel his panic, his desperation, but you don't stop.

"Where are you going?" he asks. His hand wraps around your wrist, and he tugs, his grip tight. "I said wait. Just a moment."

"Let go," you snap. You yank your arm out of his grasp, whirling to face him. He's standing in front of you, his brows drawn, his expression grim. You take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself. "I need some space. Please. Just. Give me some time. I need to clear my head."

"Let me help," Obi-Wan insists. His jaw is set, his gaze hard, but his voice is pleading, a hint of fear in his tone. You can't deny it might be warranted. He knows how you get. "You don't have to do this alone."

"You should have helped when it mattered," you say, your voice a hoarse whisper. "When I needed you. When it counted. But, you didn't. So, now, I'm asking you. Please. Just. Give me some time."

Obi-Wan inhales sharply, and the sound is like a knife to the heart. He's hurt. You can feel it. But, the guilt is overpowered by the pain, and you can't bring yourself to care. You're hurting, too. You're so tired of fighting. So tired of trying to fix something that can't be fixed. You can't keep going like this.

You don't know what else to do.

"I'm sorry," he whispers.

"Yeah," you breathe. "Me too."

Without another word, you turn and walk away.

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[britesparc]

Weekend Top Ten #461

Top Ten Good Things That Actually Happened in 2020

Well, thank God that’s over, am I right?

It feels kinda weird to be sitting here looking back over the wreckage and general weirdness of 2020, a year that pretty much defines the word “anxiety”. I have a lot to be thankful for: none of us died, for a start; we all seemed to avoid The Plague in its entirety for the whole year. We still have a house, we still have food, we always had enough toilet paper, and above all we had each other. It was hard, it was long, it sucked a great deal at times, but there are substantially worse hands to be dealt all things considered.

Anyway, amongst all the crap, there were some good things, too. And I don’t mean the end-year highs of them finding a vaccine, Biden beating Trump, and us narrowly avoiding No Deal by eating a ton of rotten mud instead of actual shit. No, throughout the year, there were actually some things that happened that were genuinely good; great, even.

And so once again, with no further ado, here are my ten favourite things. Like usual, these are, y’know, things that I watched or played or whatever. I don’t go on about my great kids being great, or the fact that I finally finished writing and formatting enough children’s books to start showing them to agents. But my kids were both elected their respective class’s reps to the school council, which is pretty badass. Here you go. Ten good things. Watch them on catch-up, or whatever.

Mega Mando: without a doubt the best “thing” that I saw was the second season of The Mandalorian. Managing to be both an event-of-the-week show (a heist! An infiltration! A siege!) as well as a long-form narrative; feeling distinct and its own thing but tying into so many aspects of Star Wars; full of absolutely excellent scenes and direction and performances; and holy crap what an ending. When you watch a few of these kinds of shared-universe genre shows, this sort of thing is a rarity to the point of my never having seen it before. Seasons that are too long? Filler episodes? Disappointing lore? A “thirteen-hour movie”? Mando swerves all of these things and – notwithstanding my love for The Last Jedi – emerges as possibly the best thing Star Wars has done since at least the classic LucasArts games of the late nineties.

Series SeXy: finally the new consoles came out, and I got an Xbox Series X. It was quite a ride for yours truly: I managed to successfully pre-order one from Microsoft directly; it turned up on the day of release, except it was late in the evening and the kids were around so I couldn’t open it; then, after briefly testing it, I shoved it back in its box till Christmas. Honestly, you wanna talk about anticipation much? It was literally in my house and I still didn’t properly set it up till the evening on Christmas Day. Anyway: it’s great. It just works, y’know? It’s a beautiful boxy delight, with its chunky green holes and its shiny edges. It makes all my games look amazing, it’s so fast and buttery-smooth. It’s like upgrading a PC, but far more successful and expansive an upgrade than I was ever able to do when I was actually upgrading a PC. Anyway, it’s great. It even runs Cyberpunk 2077.

Lockdown Crossing: Animal Crossing: New Horizons arrived at exactly the right time. Lockdown was starting, everything was darkness and fear, people were dying, we needed distractions, and here was a game about being happy and friendly and doing up your house and digging up fossils. It was perfect. It was also a great social game, with my kids loving sending presents to each other, or meeting up with their uncle (who they literally saw only once this year). A great game at just the right time.

The Stream Where it Happens: Mando might have been my TV highlight of the year, but film-wise my favourite new movie was not only not really a movie but was also several years old. Hamilton popped up almost by surprise on Disney+, and it was the first time I’d been able to experience it – and it was just as good as I’d heard. At this point you don’t need me to rhapsodise about the lyricism, performance, staging, and West Wing references; I think you either get it or you don’t, and I got it big time. Weirdly, experiencing it at home made some kind of perfect sense, and it made up for missing out on the big cinematic musicals such as In the Heights and West Side Story.

Fantabulous Harley Quinn: Harley rocked on both the big and the small screen this year. Birds of Prey, or whatever it ended up being called, was actually the last film I saw at the cinema before the Big Shutdown of 2020. It’s not perfect, sure, but it’s a hell of a lot of fun; Margot Robbie is a blast, it’s really funny, and is edgy in just the right way, rather than feeling like it’s trying too hard. I was more sceptical going into the Harley Quinn animated show (starring Penny off The Big Bang Theory, for goodness’ sake!), as “sweary adult Harley Quinn cartoon” is pretty high on my checklist of “things that are trying to be edgy”, but I’m glad I gave it a chance, because it followed a very similar line to the movie. Hilarious, violent, filthy, but also offering a subtle unpeeling of Harley’s psyche and giving her more character development than she gets in most of her comic appearances. It was a great year for Harley. Just wish they’d show the second season of her show.

All This Plus Disney: yeah, I’ve already singled out Mando and Ham (great unmade detective show, there), but I’ve gotta say Disney+ in general has been a huge highlight. From getting all yer Marvels and yer Star Wars in one place, to a wealth of preschool and middle-grade shows for the kids (my youngest mainlined Vampirina this Spring), to being a home for loads of high-quality family films from years gone by (it was the prime destination for many a family movie night), to, well, the future. WandaVision launches in a couple of weeks, followed by dozens of great shows and movies; not just ones about sad superheroes, either – personally I can’t wait for the likes of Chip & Dale. I’ve gotta say, I’ve been really impressed, and once they roll out the sexier, swearier Fox stuff later this year, it’ll only get better.

A Schitt Year: we got into Schitt’s Creek rather late (like many a sitcom – I think we only discovered Brooklyn Nine-Nine and The Good Place in the last eighteen months or so), but it’s truly sublime, and it only got better and better as it built towards it joyous climax (ewww, David!). It was a great show about a family of people who were kinda arseholes, but were really very nice underneath it all, and how this town of people who were sorta idiots but kinda nice underneath it all brought out the better natures of everybody. It was, basically, a show about the all-encompassing power of being Nice. I’m so, so happy that it achieved huge success in its final season, winning literally all the Emmys. Hot Schitt.

Top Trek: 2020 was bookended by the two newest incarnations of People Boldly Going, Picard and Discovery. I was super excited to check in with Jean-Luc and pals nearly twenty years since we’d last seen them; although the show wasn’t a Best of Both Worlds-style masterpiece, it presented a believably fractured vision of the Federation, and a sadder, wearier Picard. It got a bit bogged down in Borg stuff, and I wasn’t totally sold on the ending, but I’m very, very eager to spend more time with these characters in future seasons. Discovery, meanwhile, flashed forward, with a season set about 900 years after Picard, and gave us what amounts to the closest Star Trek gets to a dystopia. It took its time settling in, but by crikey it pulled its threads together for a great run of episodes as we gear up to the finale later this week. I’ve very much enjoyed Star Trek on TV this year, and I’m really looking forward to whatever comes next.

Netflickin’ Ass: on the one hand, it was quite nice to see streaming services picking up the slack during the cinema closures, with many films winding up on Prime Video or Netflix or wherever; there were also those “Premium VOD” options, such as Trolls World Tour or Mulan, but I never quite fancied parting with so much cash for a rental (“Only if it’s Black Widow or Wonder Woman,” I said… so, yeah, see you later this month for the latter!). One trend I did notice, however, was Netflix also picking up the slack of “big Hollywood star-driven action movie”. Y’know, the stuff that had Van Damme or Seagal in it in the ‘90s, before everything became franchised (Mission: Impossible could almost fall under this banner, but Cruise became too huge and the series itself eventually was the draw, I’d argue). Anyway, these sorts of films nowadays are low-rent DTV fodder starring slumming former megastars, so fair play to Netflix for resurrecting the genre and giving it a fresh coat of paint and lease of life. Stuff like Extraction and The Old Guard weren’t exactly masterpieces, but they were solidly entertaining with great central performances and some nicely turned-out action. Looking forward to more of the same – bigger, better, and with more people getting killed with rakes!

A Summer of Anticipation: it was a weird year – well, yeah, of course it was, you know, you were there. But one of the things that was weird was that so much was going to happen. I mean, there were loads of things I was looking forward to as the year began; from the MCU and Star Wars shows to big movies, smaller movies, and – of course – new games consoles. And as the year went on, amidst the angsty real-world wait-and-see, there was also a steady drip of news and non-news as we held on to find out which films were pushed back, which were skipping the cinema, and mostly what the games would look like on the new consoles. Barely a week seemed to go by without new rumours, new stories, and new leaked videos or imagery. It was maddening and infuriating but also, weirdly, glorious. This strange ongoing sense of anticipation and wonder, even if quite often the news ended up being disappointing as more and more big hitters slipped to 2021 (everything from Bond to Halo to pretty much the whole MCU). But like an entire year made up of Christmas Eves, it felt for the longest time that anything was possible… just round the corner.

See? It wasn’t all bad. And maybe this year we’ll get to enjoy all the stuff we thought we’d enjoy in 2020! I mean, at the very least, Trump’s gonna be gone… right?