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no-droids · 5 years ago

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Why is the Girl Here?

Part 1 of 2 of The Locked Door Series

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Obi-Wan Kenobi/fem!Reader

Word Count: 12.8K

Summary: The Clone Wars have launched the galaxy into darkness, and hundreds of Jedi have fallen. With nowhere else to turn, the Order seeks to ally with powerful Force users from the Unknown Regions. Just a three-cycle trip from Ilum, the planet s’Ziscari is home to the largest army of Force sensitives known to the galaxy, three times the size of the Jedi Order and with no current allegiance to the Republic. There, Master Obi-Wan Kenobi and his newly ordained Jedi Knight are to negotiate an alliance with the s’Ziscari government on behalf of the Order and the Republic. As the separatist army grows ever stronger, the fate of trillions rests in their hands…

Warnings: THIS WILL BE A FUCK OR DIE-ESQUE FIC. Smut will come in the second part.

***

“Why is it,” you ask, the heels of your leather boots clicking in perfect synchronization with the cloaked figure to your left, “that the greatest negotiator in the Jedi Order wields a blue saber, and not a green one?”

While you're unable to see his gentle smile from underneath your dark cowl, you sense a general wave of amusement reverberate through the Force from his direction. The energy somehow feels like the equivalent of a lift inside the cavity in your chest; transparent, tinted a soft blue in color, comfortable, calm, and familiar.

“Perhaps we should trade,” comes that crisp and precise Coruscanti accent you've ached to hear for the past two years. “No matter how much you lamented its color as a youngling, you know I have always been rather fond of yours.”

It’s true, you think. The color green never really… agreed with you, and much less what it represents to the Jedi, but your Master always said he found the pastel hue of the saber currently clipped to your belt to be unique and appealing. Green—any shade of it, really—is the color of the Jedi Consulars. The peacekeepers, the diplomats, the healers and seers. Their—your—inner nature and connection to the Force speaks to concord and harmony, and though you’ve come to accept your place amongst the pacifists and mediators in the Order after years of training and meditation, you still remember what a shock it was to discover the color of your kyber crystal as a youngling.

You always thought you’d have a blue saber. The mark of the Guardians—the second of the three branches of Jedi. Their skills are focused in battle, and any saber towards the far end of the color spectrum typically leads to specializing in lightsaber combat and warfare tactics. That’s what you always thought your soul spoke to most—the warriors of the Order. The soldiers and the members of the Jedi Core, the battle tacticians, the security of the Republic and law enforcers. You were always a bit of a brash and emotional child compared to your peers, a bit of a handful as a youngling, and you were certain your saber would be some shade of blue because of that. At that age, a yellow saber was maybe a possibility. Though you didn’t really have the amount of friends a sociable, service-oriented Sentinel would have, you still felt that if you didn’t have a blue saber, then yellow was far more likely than green. Yet, you still remember blinking down at your tiny, open palm deep in a cave on Ilum, stunned, a pale mint kyber crystal held precariously in it and nearly vibrating with how loudly it was calling to you through the Force.

“Did the Council do that on purpose, you think?” You ask, the both of you taking a sharp right down another unfamiliar marble hallway with no spoken direction. “Pair their most combative Consular with their most mild-mannered Guardian all those years ago, hoping we’d make a good team?”

“You know as well as I do that I chose you for a Padawan myself, young one,” your Master hums. “And that… we have always been.”

It’s been two years since you last saw him. Two years, since you passed your trials and graduated from his tutelage. Knighthood has been good to you with the exception of your former Master’s extended absence, a consequence of your newfound independence as a bonafide member of the Order. Though the circumstances surrounding your much anticipated reunion with him certainly aren’t ideal, you’re glad nonetheless that you’re face-to-face again—or, currently, shoulder-to-shoulder.

You hide the ghost of a smile under your hood and maintain a steady, calm signature in the Force, keeping in stride with him and speaking in hushed tones. “Things must really be desperate if they’re putting us back together again.”

“I do not wish to alarm you,” he drawls, sarcastic in cadence but a hint of affection weaving through his voice all the same, “but we are in the middle of a war.”

“Fair,” you acknowledge with a tilt of your head, though being on a planet so far removed from the chaos currently wreaking havoc on the rest of the galaxy allows you the privilege of pretending for the moment. “A threat to the very fabric of the Republic is the only reason the Council would sanction the two of us reuniting.”

Though you say it jokingly, there’s something hidden in it. An unspoken apprehension you’re attempting to mask with the high spirits of seeing him again. The stakes of the forthcoming interplanetary negotiation are absolutely staggering, and though it remains unsaid, you understand that just as well as he does. Scared isn’t the right word, and neither is worried, but—

“I sense a mild trepidation in you, young one,” your Master murmurs, and yes, that’s it. A mild trepidation.

“I am…” You close your eyes and attempt to find the right words. “I am… considering the long-term consequences should this endeavor fail,” you eventually settle on, allowing your feet to lead you left as you keep your pace with him. “While I consider it a great honor to lead this negotiation on behalf of the Galactic Republic, I’m concerned the Council’s faith in me is… ill-placed.”

Your Master turns his head just marginally in your direction, and though you both can't technically see each other, you know the face he's making under the hood of his robe: his eyebrow is raised, his chin is tilted, and there's the faintest hint of an amused grin threatening to morph the slightly sassy expression to one of genuine humor. “You distrust the Council’s judgement?”

“Failure and any potential repercussions will be mine alone to bear,” you clarify. “It’s not the Council I lack faith in, but rather my own skills as a mediator.”

At this, the Jedi does chuckle. “And I'm to assume I'm just the tauntaun next door in this scenario?”

The apprehension clears, almost immediately, and you can’t help but grin gently in return. He always did have that effect on you. “Better be,” you toss out, sensing the large congregation of lifeforms gradually burn brighter in the Force as you both continue your quiet approach. “This is my negotiation, after all; the Council’s instructions were clear.”

“Very well,” he agrees. “And, since this is your negotiation, I’m sure you’re more than aware of s’Ziscari etiquette and tradition? Wouldn’t want to offend them by accident.”

“Of course,” you nod. “But a… a quick refresher certainly wouldn’t hurt.”

Your Master just tsks quietly, but launches into a brief explanation for you all the same. “It is the Council’s understanding that Queen s’Zerthia is absent from the Palace at the moment. In lieu of an audience with her, Ambassador Zyther is the only other member of her Royal Majesty’s court who happens to be fluent in Basic, so be sure to address only him when you speak, and to speak slowly and clearly, as it’s crucial they understand our intentions are purely diplomatic in nature. Do not forget the s’Ziscari are a Force sensitive race; they’ll be able to spot deception the second you think to speak it aloud. Not that I anticipate the need to mislead them for any reason, of course, but please. Be mindful.”

Instead of answering him, you direct an affirmative through the Force, and your Master continues.

“They are known to take offense to extended eye contact and they’re not fond of humor or small-talk either, so skip directly to the point: the Jedi are here on behalf of the Republic to garner the support of their planet during these times of war and great unease. Intel tells us they have amassed an army of Force sensitives three times the size of the Order. While we’re hoping for a pledge of at least a thousand soldiers to fight in the Clone Wars, we are more than willing to compromise and accept any assistance they’d be gracious enough to provide nonetheless.”

“In exchange for what?” You ask, the throne room doors now in sight. You were formally debriefed on mission details during the three day trip to s’Ziscari, but the answer to that specific question was kept purposefully vague, even for the likes of the Council. Presently, you still have no idea what exactly you’re meant to be bargaining with, not for.

“In exchange for the continued security of having a peaceful and harmonious neighbor with which to share the galaxy,” he replies breezily, the both of you coming to a halt directly in front of two large wooden doors. “Now. Are you quite ready?”

“Hang on,” you say, turning to face him, and he carefully ducks his head and removes his hood with two hands as his body rotates to mirror yours. “You’re telling me that we’re walking into the most important negotiation in the entire galaxy without actually having anything substantial to offer on our behalf?”

Slowly, the dark cowl is lifted from your head as well, and your eyes lock with a pair of calm cerulean blues staring back at you as he gently soothes the fabric down by your collar. He looks older—ever since the Clone Wars started, Jedi Master General Obi-Wan Kenobi has aged significantly. Gone are the long, flowing locks he sported for most of your youth—the short hair with a clean part is more refined, the beard fuller and more mature. More… attractive than you remember him being, even though you always remembered him being… achingly attractive.

Instead of answering your question, however, he simply moves both hands to rest over the curve of your shoulders, lowering his head and lifting his eyebrows at you in a look of genuine sincerity that makes your heart thump painfully in your chest.

“I am so very proud of you, my former Padawan,” he tells you quietly, and you feel yourself nearly swell with warmth. You’re strong enough in the Force to subdue the sentiment before it bleeds into your signature, but you can’t help the way your face flushes slightly and a girlish little smile pulls tight at your cheeks. “You’ve grown into a fine Knight and an exemplar for the Order. No matter the outcome of this mission, nor of this war, please know I’ve been truly blessed by the Maker to have been given the privilege of training you all these years.”

Master Kenobi tilts his head forward just slightly, allowing his Force signature to brush delicately against yours for just a moment, the soft periwinkles and lavenders of his energy swirling gently through your pastel seafoams and teals.

And then he clears his throat, straightens his spine, and claps his hands tight to your upper arms.

“Come now, Jedi,” he winks, turning his head to the double doors and breaking into a brilliant grin, the skin around his eyes crinkling with age but the sparkle in them still lovely and youthful and bright. “The fate of the galaxy awaits.”

***

Master Obi-Wan Kenobi remembers very clearly the day he chose you as a Padawan.

You were a fiery little thing. The Sentinels who raised younglings at the Academy would often speak about you at length to the Council, each of them reporting back with the same issues and concerns. Too emotional, too chaotic, too rebellious for the likes of the Jedi. You threw tantrums, you had outbursts, and to him, you were very likely the worst possible candidate for a negotiator to take on as an apprentice, if only because by all accounts it appeared that you were nigh impossible to negotiate with.

But then you caught his eye one day when Master Yoda was in the process of introducing him to your class. You should’ve been paying attention to the wisdom being shared by the oldest Consular in the Order (and, admittedly, so should he) but instead, you were gazing quietly at a dove that made its nest on the transparisteel dome arching across the ceiling. Obi-Wan remembers feeling your energy cautiously reach out towards it, gentler than anything he could’ve expected from a child of your age and reputation, and the moment stuck with him.

The younglings were each allowed one possession at the Academy, and when it came time for him to choose a Padawan, he swiped yours, if only to see what you’d do. A stuffed rancor you’d endearingly named Cory—rather hideous looking thing, if you asked him—and he was told you were fiercely protective over it.

Obi-Wan remembers carefully setting the stuffed animal down next to him in one of the old storage rooms in the isolated training area, locking the door manually and then taking a quick second to cloak his Force signature. You had three options, he figured, if you were able to find its location. Use the Force to unlock the door, use the brand new saber clipped to your belt to create your own door, or leave without your stuffed rancor. Based off your reputation as an emotionally volatile little youngling, he was assuming he’d have to replace the frame and wall paneling altogether, but regardless, Obi-Wan figured that if you had the nerve to break into the locked room to retrieve your missing possession, he would train you, and if you didn’t, then he’d find someone else.

He waited patiently, meditating for a few hours on your signature from across the Academy. He went through the subsequent stages with you. A bright flare of panic, probably from noticing its absence from your quarters. Sharp sparks of frustration for the next few minutes, likely in response to nobody knowing where it went. He was expecting some sort of distraught next as you began making your way through the Academy to search for it yourself, some sort of upset, but then you surprised him for the second time.

All at once… Quiet. Serenity. Your signature carefully sweeping out in all directions as you walked through the halls, calmly attempting to locate your missing possession.

Obi-Wan pondered this as you approached, and what it might mean. Were you just an excellent student when you felt the stakes were high enough? Were you capable of listening to instructions despite what he’d heard about you in passing? Were you simply just strong in the Force? Or was there perhaps more to you than what others had told him?

Soon, he could hear your footsteps come to a halt in front of the locked door. He waited silently; hidden in the darkness, hidden in the Force, barely breathing while he listened for either the sound of a lightsaber turning on or a lock clicking. He knew you’d find some way to breach the entrance somehow; he knew you wouldn’t just give up and leave.

Except, then all he heard was a quiet little rap of knuckles against metal.

“Master Kenobi?” A small voice called through the door, and Obi-Wan froze.

To your credit, he wasn’t focusing on hiding himself the way he should’ve been. Had you been roughly ten years older, he might’ve taken the time to concentrate a bit harder on it, but truthfully, that’s not what surprised him the most.

You didn’t break in at all.

Instead, you… knocked.

“Master Kenobi?” You tried again after a moment, your knuckles tapping quietly on the door once more.

“Em…” He eventually cleared his throat. “Yes?”

“I think you may have accidentally taken something of mine on accident,” you carefully said after a moment, the overly cautious intent not to offend or intrude suddenly striking him as an invaluable trait in a potential negotiator. “May I please have him back please?”

You were quite a handful at times, Obi-Wan thinks, but it’s been so long. So long since he’s had to correct you in any way. As the years passed, you aged from an emotional Padawan to a refined Knight, a hot-tempered adolescent to a disciplined and capable young Jedi.

Now he looks on as you greet the s’Ziscari Ambassador to the Republic, your head bowed in respect and your eyes focused somewhere near the man’s chest. It appears the two of you have an audience for your audience—members of the Royal Court are sitting perched in a tiered viewing gallery, speaking quietly amongst themselves as you introduce Obi-Wan and state your purpose to the room.

Your voice rings out sharp and clear, and throughout the entire negotiation, not once does he feel compelled to assist you in any way. You do everything right—you make fair points without stepping on any toes, you never allow the Ambassador’s booming voice intimidate you or sway your collected composure.

Obi-Wan meant what he said. He’s proud of you.

Though… though at one point throughout the mediation, something about this starts to not… feel right.

It’s the Royal Court, he realizes. They’ve stopped talking, they’re… paying attention. It doesn’t make sense—none of them speak Basic, they must just be reading the energies in the room. Nothing spectacular has happened—no outburst, nothing to draw their attention any more than when you both first made your entrance. The Ambassador’s voice continues to echo throughout the vast ceilings and contrast with the pleasant and tranquil alto of your steady responses, but then Obi-Wan suddenly goes rigid and spins around—

The Royal Count immediately stands in unison as the Ambassador abruptly cuts off, and a familiar signature reveals itself in the Force.

***

The Queen.

The Queen is here.

You keep your head down and follow the intricate laced bodice of her gown as she makes her entrance into the grand throne room, gliding right between you and your Master before climbing the stairs and collapsing down onto the throne with a sigh. The Council was misinformed concerning her whereabouts, apparently.

The Court finds a seat not long after she does, and you clench your jaw at the unfortunate twist of events. Her presence means that whatever progress you’ve made with the Ambassador is now, for all intents and purposes, moot.

There’s also just something… odd about her and her energy, you think, something you can’t quite place. The second she turns her head and looks in your eyes is the second you forget all about avoiding eye contact with her, but if she’s offended by your sudden lack of etiquette, she displays no signs of it. In fact, you’d almost argue she looks intrigued.

“Your Majesty,” you greet. “I was just—”

“I got the gist,” she waves a manicured hand at you. “What was your name again, little girl?”

You tell her, and put a hard emphasis on your full title. She may be a monarch, but you are a General in the Clone Wars and a Knight of the Republic, and an attempt by the opposing party at intimidation by flippant degradation will not be tolerated.

“Pleasure,” she nods. “May I ask what your people are willing to offer in exchange for the military assistance you’re seeking?”

You swallow thickly, your stomach sinking. “Truly, your Majesty, I… I cannot provide you with a specific answer to that at this time. However, we would gladly be willing to—”

“Perhaps you can answer me this, then, little Knight, since I never was able to obtain anything satisfactory from your High Council,” the Queen interrupts, studying her jeweled manicure and sounding bored with the conversation she just initiated, and you feel your Master stiffen behind you. “If we s’Ziscari are so incredibly important to the Jedi, as you previously insisted to the Ambassador multiple times, then why in Maker’s name does the Council reject invitations to partake in our people’s most sacred of ceremonies year after year?”

You’re… you’re at a complete loss for words. The Sentinels have dedicated ambassadors to travel the territories specifically for these reasons, to keep political relations agreeable between outer-rim planets and the Jedi. There would be no discernible reason as to why the Council would reject attendance to an annual s’Ziscari cultural celebration, especially if their standing military was even half as powerful in the Force as rumors would imply.

Obviously you’re not privy to any of this information, so you subtly reach out to Master Kenobi’s Force signature with a tiny flicker of uncertainty, silently questioning your next move. However, before you can barely even mentally gauge the calm, sky blue of his aura, your Master’s outer-shields slam into place and even so much as shove against your open question in warning.

“It was—” You trip over your sentence, heart thumping in your chest with panic at his unprecedented response to you, “—It was never our intention to cause any offense, I’m certain—”

“And yet great offense was caused nonetheless,” the Queen returns. “However. As it just so happens, you’ve arrived on my planet the day the Sh’inzith Ritual is to commence. Because of that, I am more than willing to allow the Order to remedy their grave lapse in judgement tonight, in exchange for…” She tilts her chin at you, considering. “Ten thousand soldiers to fight in your little war. What say you, Jedi?”

No, this is wrong. This is all wrong—an addition of ten thousand trained Force sensitives would put an immediate end to the Clone Wars. Full stop. Instead of being tempted by the bait, however, you’re just becoming increasingly wary of it.

Regardless of how on edge you are, you keep an unbothered composure and continue stunting any major change to your signature. “You cannot expect me to agree to a deal before knowing the finer points of its terms, my Queen.”

“Of course not,” she agrees diplomatically. “My terms are simple, really. All you have to do is—”

“If you will pardon the interruption,” Master Kenobi’s voice suddenly rings out from behind you for the first time in what feels like ages, and he takes a few steps forward until he’s standing directly adjacent to you. “Apologies to the Court, but my companion and I have grown very weary from a long tr—”

“No apologies necessary, Master Kenobi,” the Queen grins, her eyes flicking away from yours. “Thought I saw you back there. Shall I elaborate? I’ll make it quick, so you don’t fall asleep.”

There’s a tense, pregnant silence that fills the throne room as everybody waits for his response, and you’re left wondering how your Master knows this woman.

He breaks eye contact with the monarch first and stares down at the floor while he considers his answer, before finally settling on a quiet, “Leave us.”

The Queen nods exactly once and everyone in the gallery rises and slowly files out. You take a moment to glance around at the handful of guards surrounding the throne room, waiting for their perfect statuesque posture to falter. Only, they remain completely motionless.

You turn back to the Queen, watching you thoughtfully from her elevated throne, and then to your Master, who’s… still looking down at the floor.

It takes you a bit longer than it should, even then.

Obi-Wan says your name in a tight, urging tone, not even bothering to turn his head to address you. “Please.”

What?

You? He wants you to leave? But… the Council said… they said that this is your negotiation. Clearly they failed to provide you with some very crucial piece of information, so now he’s dismissing you because of it? Openly? In front of the other party?

“But… But I was supposed to—”

“Padawan,” he all but snaps at you. “Please.”

You stand there, holding yourself as still as possible, absolutely stunned. Your Master has never spoken to you this way. You’ve never heard him speak to anyone this way.

The Queen just smiles down at you saccharinely from her throne, clearly enjoying your blatant discomfort and embarrassment.

This is humiliating.

You’d never say it out loud. But as you quietly leave the throne room, two guards on either side accompanying you to your chambers, you practically shove the words at him through the Force, trying your absolute hardest not to let the hurt through. Though in hindsight, you may have emphasized the last part a bit too harshly.

Of course. Master.

***

Obi-Wan realizes the grievousness of his mistake the second it comes out of his mouth. He doesn’t need the extended moment of silence as you work to process the unintentional insult. He doesn’t need the way your Force signature suddenly seems incredibly small, like it shrank in on itself in mortification. He most definitely does not need the spiteful remark reverberating around his brain as your footsteps fade into nothingness, the thought so sharp and directed that he’d likely have trouble blocking it out.

“Strange,” the Queen drawls out in his direction, breaking him from the whirlwind of his thoughts. “Do you really still view her as a Padawan? But she’s such a pretty girl. And she was doing so well.”

“I will not speak of this with you,” Obi-Wan replies candidly, abandoning all pleasantries now that they’re alone.

“Oh, but you will,” s’Zerthia tuts, somehow sounding disapproving and gleeful in equal parts. “If you want your army, that is.”

“Must you be so cruel, Your Majesty?” Obi-Wan sighs, lowering his head and rubbing the bridge of his nose. Maker, he’s getting a headache. “Are the Uncharted Regions truly that dull?”

“Come now, old friend,” she grins, tilting her head at him as she relaxes back in her throne. “You’ve known of my nature since we were introduced at the Senate all those decades ago. There is a reason you’re still with the peace-loving wizard monks and I am now the reigning monarch over twenty thousand square parsecs of territories.”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan acknowledges. “And now we are grown. Though it appears someone has yet to remind you.”

“Contrary to what you may believe, General Kenobi, this is not about me,” the Queen sighs. “My people do not look kindly upon the Jedi. The Ritual is a celebration of our connection with the Force, and denying an invitation, to them, is akin to denying their existence as a Force sensitive people. I can give you your army at any time, of course—I am Queen. But I fear that will not be enough. The s’Ziscari will not willingly fight for you until you pay your due respects to our culture.”

“Queen s’Zerthia,” he exhales, clearly exasperated, “I cannot call myself Jedi and partake in such… proclivities. The Council will never agree to such measures. There must be some other way.”

“There isn’t, old friend,” she huffs shortly, her signature beginning to spark with impatience. “Make your choice.”

“I am not having sex in an arena, s’Zerthia,” he hisses.

“Then the Republic shall fall.”

“You’ll let trillions die—”

“Do not speak to me as if you are not the only person who can change that, Jedi!” The Queen suddenly barks, her voice echoing throughout the empty throne room and booming with frustration. “I cannot make them fight! They love their Queen, but I am thirty-nine years old, for star’s sake! These traditions have lasted for millennia! Would you abandon the ways of your religion simply because your leader ordered it so?”

“That is exactly what you’re demanding of me,” he returns sharply.

“Yes,” s’Zerthia acknowledges. “But you are but one martyr, Obi-Wan Kenobi. Not an army.”

Obi-Wan sighs. “I’ve… s’Zerthia, I’ve never… It’s forbidden. And now you’re asking me to break my oath in front of an audience… with someone I don’t know?” He keeps his voice as steady as possible, but he knows it’s useless. The Queen of the s’Ziscari will see the wavering in his Force signature. The underlying pulse of fear at the center.

It’s her turn to sigh. “The Sh’inzith is about celebrating our connection with the Force… consensually. I… may be able to speak to some of my people about the possibility of you participating in private, due to the,” she clears her throat, “delicate nature of the situation, as well as your particular upbringing. However. You will have to project during the… closing ceremonies, if only to prove your direct involvement. This is the best I can do. Do we have an agreement?”

Obi-Wan drops his gaze. “I… I don’t know. I must confer with the Council first. But… but with their permission…” He chooses to leave his sentence unfinished, still so unbelievably uncomfortable with the terms of this nightmare to agree to them aloud.

“Understood,” she nods. “Then I shall arrange to send someone to your chambers at midnight unless you notify my staff otherwise. Which would you prefer—a man or a woman?”

He stays silent, his stomach churning in discomfort. He doesn’t think he’s ever even considered the question before. He truly doesn’t know how to answer it.

Intuitively, the Queen moves on. “No matter. What of the girl, then? A man would do well for her, I’m assuming?”

He lifts his head, furrowing his eyebrows. “The girl? What girl?”

“The girl,” s’Zerthia repeats blankly. “All Jedi present will need to participate, of course.”

“No,” Obi-Wan says immediately, taking a few steps forward. “No, that wasn’t the deal. The girl has been a Knight for barely two years, she’s never even heard of the Ritual. She has no part in this.”

“And yet she was meant to lead this negotiation, was she not?” She tsks in disappointment, each staccato click of her tongue echoing throughout the vast ceilings and rafters of the room. “Is that how you Jedi treat your women? Throw her headfirst into a mediator’s position with none of the details she needs to be successful, dismiss and humiliate her when she inevitably fails, and subsequently refuse any involvement in a potential solution on her behalf because she ‘has no part in this’? Perhaps I should be offended that the Jedi thought so little of the s’Ziscari as to assign someone of her standing to lead this negotiation, but as of right now, considering the mere fact that my palace is still intact, I’m actually starting to believe your little Padawan may just be the best of you.”

Obi-Wan says absolutely nothing in response, his heart panging in his chest in shame hearing it put into words that way. He’s never been one to question the decision-making of the Council, but assigning you to this mission had admittedly been something he himself couldn’t quite puzzle out. Obi-Wan understands the need to further develop your diplomatic skills, but the terms of this specific negotiation were just far too complex and far too crucial to the survival of the Republic to gamble on one of the youngest Knights in the Order. By all accounts, you shouldn’t be here, but the Council was very specific in their instructions. You were to lead negotiations, and Obi-Wan was to act as reinforcement should anything happen to go awry.

The Queen quietly studies the Jedi Master all the while, tilting her head thoughtfully. “None of this makes any sense, does it?”

Again, Obi-Wan maintains his silence with a furrowed brow and a far-off look on his face.

“What’s so different about this one?” She asks him, sincere curiosity appearing to overtake her in the moment. “This girl, specifically, out of everyone—why would they choose her for this negotiation? There’d be no discernible reason, unless they wanted her to—”

She cuts herself off abruptly as Obi-Wan quickly flicks his gaze over to her. When she’s silent for too long, he has to prompt her. “Unless they wanted her to what?”

“Ah,” she whispers at once, her expression immediately clearing in understanding. “Clever. Diabolical, manipulative, and entirely unexpected from a group of glorified cultists with brightly colored laser swords. But oh, so clever.”

Obi-Wan is starting to become very frustrated with this conversation.

“You know,” the Queen continues, back to studying her manicure, “I used to lament my lack of free will as a member of royalty by marriage. My husband, Maker rest his soul, could never yearn for what he did not know, but as the daughter of a Senator, I was born as low as you. I was a Miss once,” she laughs airily, as if the thought of her holding that title is absolutely ridiculous now. “I knew the difference between a life of freedom and that of a puppet. But. At least my superiors revoked my autonomy to my face. Your Council sees fit to pull strings from behind a curtain.”

“You think the Council wanted this?” He can’t keep the intense skepticism from lacing his tone, despite his best efforts.

The Queen suddenly looks up from her jeweled fingernails and pins him with a hard stare. “Will you bed a stranger even with the direct permission of your betters?” She shoots at him, quite unexpectedly and shameless in her phrasing.

Obi-Wan nearly jerks back, the abrupt change in subject and rather personal question startling him. “I—”

“Would you have asked your Padawan to accompany you here if you’d been put in charge of negotiations instead?”

“I’m not sure I—”

“Do you think it simply a coincidence the two of you were scheduled to arrive on my planet exactly ten hours before a festivity that only happens once every five hundred and some-odd cycles begins?”

“I can assure you I was not privy the t—”

“Why is the girl here?”

He… he doesn’t understand. It’s like she’s trying to have four conversations with him at once. He’s getting whiplash. “s’Zerthia.”

“Obi-Wan. Come now, don’t be daft.” She goes back to picking at her fingernails, clearly done with her interrogation for the time being. “She’s here because she is a thousand times more prepared to participate in the Sh’inzith than you are, of course.”

Obi-Wan blinks. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means the Council knew full well what the terms of this negotiation would be,” the Queen shrugs. “Though you may not be too familiar with Jedi-s’Ziscari interplanetary relations, I can assure you we have openly voiced our offense to their denial of our invitations multiple times. We still send them, of course, as is tradition. We have for a few centuries at least. A formal alliance would obviously require some act of rectification on the Council’s behalf, so therefore the only logical assumption to be made is that the girl was chosen for this mission specifically with that in mind. She likely didn’t take an oath of celibacy or something of t—”

“All Jedi take oaths of celibacy,” Obi-Wan interjects with a startlingly unfamiliar edge to his voice, clearly warning her not to continue on in this direction.

”Oh, apologies; I misspoke,” she clarifies. “She probably didn’t take an oath of celibacy seriously, or something of the sort.”

“Mind yourself, s’Zerthia,” he warns her. “I care not of your position nor our history, you will not speak of my protégé that way—”

“Oh, she’s your protégé now?” She grins, amusement flashing in her eyes. “I see. Because we both have been referring to her as your Padawan up until the moment someone other than you decided to insult her, so I wasn’t sure. Forgive me.”

Obi-Wan flushes and opens his mouth once, twice. He is quite honestly speechless at how his… long-time acquaintance is so truly gifted at creating sentences that somehow manage to turn themselves into icy daggers in midair, so instead, he takes a different approach. “E-Even… even if you were slightly correct with that… a-absolutely baseless accusation, it makes no sense,” he reasons desperately, still trying to find some way out of all this. “Breaking an oath of celibacy in her youth does not at all mean she’d be any more likely to lie with a s’Ziscari to complete a diplomatic mis—”

“No,” the Queen agrees, “it means she’d be more likely to lie with a Jedi.”

Obi-Wan stops dead.

She laughs, a soft tinkle of a sound, taking in the underlying shock of his demeanor. “By all their faults, the Council is not stupid.” She almost sounds… impressed. “Think, Obi-Wan. Pair the Greatest Negotiator in the Order with his newly ordained Knight? The one young enough to not have the strict pillars of your cult of a religion so hopelessly cemented into her mindset? The one who so very clearly considers you to be far more than a mentor to her? The Council knew you’d be incredibly reluctant to bed anyone, let alone a stranger from the Uncharted Regions, but they also knew of our history as friends—if anyone in the Order was in a position to make the deal with me, it was you, so if anyone in the Order was in a position to therefore… persuade you to follow through with the conditions of said deal, it was her. To gain ten thousand more Force sensitives and win a galactic war, all your Council had to do was shove two of their most agreeable Generals into bed with one another. Beautifully executed, Machiavellian at its core. Stars. I knew politics suited the Jedi, but this is just…”

Obi-Wan feels his chest sinking deeper and deeper by the second as she kisses her fingers animatedly.

“…Masterful,” s’Zerthia finishes, turning to smile widely at him, positively delighted in her demeanor. “I do say, I may have met my match in your superiors, Obi-Wan. Perhaps they shall make better allies than I’d originally assumed. If nothing else, this little display of cunning and manipulation gives me faith that perhaps the Republic isn’t so completely doomed after all.”

“Do you truly think they’d be so cruel?” He finds himself asking quietly after a moment.

“These are times of war, old friend,” she tilts her head with as much solemn comfort in her voice as she can reasonably provide. “They knew the terms, and they knew you wouldn’t agree if you knew them in advance. This was the only way. And honestly, should a… well, let’s face it, a rather attractive coupling be all that stands between the galaxy and total destruction, I’d say that may just be a fair price to pay. My only lament thus far is your rather timid demeanor. You two would’ve made for a crowd favorite.”

The Queen’s assertion startles him so much that Obi-Wan outright defaults back to skeptical pragmatism instead of entertaining elaborate and incredibly far-fetched conspiracy theories. “Yes, yes, s’Zerthia, but—but this whole entire scheme hinges on the completely incorrect assumption that she and I would actually be willing… willing to…” He can’t even finish the sentence.

“How old are you, Obi-Wan?” She raises a perfectly arched eyebrow at him, thoroughly unimpressed with his sudden lack of articulation. “We are of similar age, correct? Are you outright incapable of saying the word ‘fuck’?”

“Quit being foul,” he snaps. “It suits your personality, not your tongue.”

“So quick-witted in conversation for someone so incredibly dim-witted in practice,” she muses, as if this entire thing is incredibly entertaining to her. “Do you really not see the way she looks at you?”

“She respects me,” Obi-Wan declares meaningfully. “She’s loyal. She thinks much higher of me than I deserve. She’d stand alone in the face of an army if it pleased me and she’d stand tall—”

“That’s not the only position she’d assume to please you,” the Queen mutters under her breath, pausing to give him a sweet little smile as Obi-Wan burns a hole through her with his glare. “The only variable remaining is your willingness to please her. After all, the offer to lie with a s’Ziscari instead will always be up for the both of your considerations, as is the ability to walk away entirely at any time of course. I’m assuming the Council was relying on the fact that you’d pitch an absolute fit after being informed her involvement was required—which, naturally, you did. And then they gambled on the answer to a question you’ve yet to ask yourself.” She leans forward and tilts her head at him, lacing her manicured fingers together. “Perhaps it’s not a matter of how willing you are to sleep with your Padawan to save the galaxy from complete and total annihilation, Master Kenobi, but simply a matter of whether or not the clueless little thing will want it bad enough to be able to convince you to do it. This—this is a real negotiation for her now.”

“s’Zerthia—” Obi-Wan sputters, “—I—She—I’ve traversed her consciousness more than anyone in the entire galaxy, and not once has she ever even hinted at the possibility that she—”

“And can you blame her? My, the scandal it would cause!” The Queen presses the back of her hand to her forehead and collapses dramatically back into her throne. “A Jedi Knight secretly harboring feelings for her Master? In my good temple? Shame! Shame! Sha—!”

“You think you know more of my successor than I?” Obi-Wan interrupts sharply, somehow more irritated now at the insinuation than he’d been the entire conversation. “The youngling I raised? The one I handpicked to take my place in the Order, you think you know more of her heart than I?”

“Yes.” s’Zerthia answers him simply, straightening up on her throne and abandoning all theatrics. “Because you did not see her face when you called her Padawan. I did. And I also happen to know far better than most that hiding the truth from nosy Force sensitive authoritarians is most easily accomplished by controlling one’s energy signature. Jedi, s’Ziscari, it matters not the culture—you lot spend far too much effort reading into the Force than simply looking someone in their eyes to learn the truth. Look her in the eyes next time, Master Kenobi. Then you will understand.”

***

You’re furious.

The Jedi are not meant to feel fury. But you are a Jedi, and by the Maker, do you feel it.

“Padawan?” You hiss, pacing the length of your bedchamber with clenched fists, trying to control the volume of your voice so desperately that the words come out shaky and slurred. “Padawan? Is that what he thinks of me? That I’m still a youngling?!”

You haven’t been this upset since you were a small child. And the thought stops you dead in your tracks.

You are a General. You are a Consular. You are a Knight.

Regardless of what he may believe.

So you climb up onto your unnecessarily large bed, crawling the incredibly soft fur blanket of an animal you’ve never seen before to sit yourself in the very center of the mattress, crossing your legs. Though it takes you longer than it has in years, you’re finally able to relax your breathing and clear your mind, slipping into a deep meditative state.

You don’t know how long you stay in that position, nor do you really care to. But when your Force signature feels the slightest brush of your Master’s, likely just looking for your location within the palace, you’re a bit too late in slamming your mental barriers up in response. You know he still senses the reciprocal shove he gave you earlier, the shocking feeling of being practically hurled out of someone’s mind with unprecedented ferocity. But he also knows where you are now.

So, like you’re a youngling at the Academy again, you just pretend to meditate. Like an actual child, you close your eyes and focus on just sitting still. You shouldn’t be responding this way, you tell yourself. Restraining your emotional response has been hammered into you for decades—keeping calm when you’re upset is your default, it’s how you’ve lived your entire adult life. Why can you not seem to accomplish it now?

What… what is this? This toxic, absolutely dreadful emotion? It's hard placing them sometimes when you were taught from infancy to just will them away instead of processing them. It’s not fury, not anymore. It isn’t sadness, either. You’ve been sad—you’ve been sad for two years straight, and it feels nothing like this.

You’re throwing a tantrum, you realize. That’s what this must be. You’re reverting back to your childhood, back to when you felt discounted and disapproved of by nearly everyone around you. You haven’t felt this way in years, not since you met Master Kenobi. This is hurt. Just pure, irrational, emotional pain, and it’s manifesting itself in truly ugly ways.

You can feel his signature glow just marginally brighter in the Force as your Master steadily approaches. You take slow breaths, trying to rearrange yourself into something at least mildly composed and tranquil, but it feels almost impossible. So instead, you just try to ignore the past few hours and think back on all the things your Master used to tell you when you were like this, this raging turmoil of emotions overtaking you and causing you to lash out.

You are a Consular, child, he’d say, and if you focus, you can practically hear the musical cadence of his calm, comforting voice. A peacekeeper. A dove. When faced with a locked door, what must you always do?

Master Kenobi’s knuckles rap on the entrance to your quarters quietly, and you blink your eyes open, taking another deep breath before replying. “It’s open.”

The door opens and he takes a few steps inside the room, stopping immediately when he lifts his head up and sees you sitting on your bed.

You both stare at each other in silence for way too long, and you’re not… really sure why. You’re obviously just waiting for him to say something, take the lead in this conversation since he was clearly a better fit to take the lead on this mission, but he just looks at you. For an eternity, he looks at you. Completely blank.

He suddenly jerks his spine straight and breaks eye contact with you, coughing and flicking bright blue eyes around the space as if he’s just noticing it. “Ah, I… Apologies, this is the wrong room. I thought… my quarters are—I must confer with the Council. Please, excuse me.”

And then he turns around and leaves.

You blink a few times, wide-eyed and completely bewildered as the door slides shut behind his billowing cloak.

He… he knocked on the door to his own quarters? And then… and then he waited for you to call him in?

What in Maker’s name is going on?

***

“This is unbelievable,” Obi-Wan sighs, and the hologram of Master Windu rubs his blue flickering temples in slow circles, looking equally as exasperated as Obi-Wan sounds. “Did you know the Ritual was to take place tonight?”

“The Council had no idea,” the fellow Guardian murmurs, and something pulls tight in Obi-Wan’s chest, remembering the Queen’s assertion that the s’Ziscari continue to send invitations to the Council every year. Perhaps… perhaps there was some sort of an oversight, he thinks, due to the Clone Wars taking precedence for the Order. “Intel told us she’d be off-planet for at least another week.”

Well now, that doesn’t make much sense, not if the Ritual is to begin soon. None of what Master Windu has said throughout the conversation has made any sense at all regarding the situation. Obi-Wan… Obi-Wan thought he’d feel better after speaking to another member of the Council, not more uncertain.

“What does Master Yoda think of all this?” He eventually tries, but the holographic projection of Master Windu sighs and tilts his head regretfully, his upper body flickering and waving with intermittent static.

“Master Yoda is currently dispatched to Rugosa to convince King Katuunko to allow the Republic to build a base in Toydarian territory,” he replies solemnly, and Obi-Wan… needs to meditate. Yes. Meditation sounds like a phenomenal idea. “Are you certain there is no more room for negotiating?”

“An ultimatum was given,” Obi-Wan says shortly. “These are the terms.”

Master Windu takes quite a while before responding, but when he does, he speaks calmly and with purpose, addressing him with a formal opinion. “Then the Council will leave this matter up to the discretions of you and your former Padawan, Master Kenobi. This mission designation has hereby been elevated to the highest level of classified and your subsequent choices need not be reported, nor will they affect either of your places in the Order. May the Force guide you and be with you both through these uncertain times.”

The transmission is cut and Obi-Wan feels his insides twist.

He collapses onto his bed and groans quietly, burying his face in his hands and finding it easier to just conceal his Force signature altogether than attempt to mask the anxiety and crushing pressure he feels threatening to overwhelm him.

This is not good. This is, in fact, very much a disaster. This is a mess. This is far worse than anything he could’ve possibly imagined when he was first assigned to this mission.

Obi-Wan slowly rakes all ten of his fingers down the sides of his beard, lifting his chin and then letting them drag all the way down his throat, and the quiet scratchy sound it makes mixes in with another longer, even more exhausted groan.

Maker. First things first, he needs to apologize to you and explain the situation. Neither one of those things will be easy to accomplish, but in the grand scheme, they’ll be far simpler than anything else facing him.

He… he takes a second to think about you, about the awful way he unintentionally disrespected you earlier. Stars—he handled this terribly. He was caught off guard and he owes you an explanation, but he’s at a complete loss as to how to go about it.

And why… Why must you have been sitting on your bed? Staring up at him silently, waiting for him atop the very place he’s just been given permission to… to…

Obi-Wan shakes his head and clamps his eyes shut, rubbing them with a bit too much vigor to be from tiredness and stress alone. He should meditate. He should meditate, let his mind break free of the nerves and sudden change of events, but he doesn’t have time to even begin unscrambling the chaos of his thoughts. It’s getting late, and he has an obligation to tell you about the situation as soon as possible, to give you as much time as he can to process the decision facing you before the clock runs out.

He’s dreading this. He’s absolutely dreading it, but it needs to be done.

***

After your Master leaves, less than a half hour passes before you hear another knock on the door.

By then, you’re just sitting there. Sitting there, empty. This is good, really. Truly, this is a good thing. A flat emotional state is what you should always strive for, but… nothing about it feels like peace, really. No, this just feels… grey. Desaturated. Dull.

“It’s open,” you call once again, and Master Kenobi quietly enters your chambers. This time you don’t look at him, though. You don’t really… feel the need to, especially from the way his signature is still just barely presenting itself to you, still so guarded and cautious around you when he’s never been this way before.

Your Master comes to a stop right in front of the edge of the mattress, and stands there for a few moments in silence. You just blink down at the mattress and wait, undisturbed, until you hear him heave a long, heavy sigh, before spinning around and unceremoniously sinking down to the floor at the foot of the bed.

Something about it breaks through your blank, almost dissociative state. Your eyebrows narrow just slightly where your gaze is pinned to the fur covering the mattress, hearing him sigh heavily once more out of your line of sight, but it’s enough to urge you to crawl forward until you can see him sitting on the floor at the foot of the mattress, bent over on himself, his head buried in his hands. You’ve never seen your Master look so… vulnerable before. So small—not in all the years you’ve known each other. His energy is so concealed that you’re just barely able to sense anything besides the mere presence of his signature, but he’s clearly distraught with just as much emotion you were struggling with earlier, and suddenly…

Suddenly a calmness sweeps through you. A gentle sort of kindness fills your soul, slowly flooding your energy with color once again at the sight of someone who’s usually so composed struggling so openly in front of you.

Carefully, you lower yourself down until you’re seated on the floor next to him, your back pressed up against the side of the mattress as he continues to hide his face from you. You stay there, not touching him, not saying anything, but just radiating a steady tranquility through the room from the very center of your being, anchoring him through his storm until it clears.

The sun goes down through the window before either of you speak. Your Master eventually drops his hands from his face and takes a deep breath, choosing to break the silence first.

“Before I begin,” he finally says, his shoulders still uncharacteristically tight and full of tension, even though his voice is soft. “I must… I must sincerely apologize to you. This type of subject matter makes me extraordinarily uncomfortable and I took that out on you, and it was absolutely unacceptable behavior on my behalf. Unfortunately, I can offer you no explanation that wouldn't count as an excuse for something that was completely inexcusable.”

“I understand,” you reassure him, just as quietly, but then quickly correct yourself. “Well, no—I don’t. I don’t understand, but. Judging from your demeanor, I can only assume things have become… a bit more complicated.”

Your Master takes another full, deep inhale. “Yes, that’s…” he empties his lungs of air with a huff, amused but in a way that’s not really amused. “That’s certainly one way of putting it.”

“Do you…” You blink at the floor, still keeping your voice and energy as gentle as possible. “Just—before… before you begin… Do you truly think of me as your Padawan still?”

“No,” he answers firmly. Immediately, and with less hesitation than anything he’s said so far. “I do not.”

You nod, the finality in his tone leading you to believe that’s the end of his sentence, but then he eventually lowers his voice and continues.

“But sometimes, I…” Your Master sounds conflicted, like he’s not sure he should be saying this aloud. He still hasn’t looked at you. “I find myself… wishing you were. That we could go back to those days, the days before the war. Before fighting armies, and leading them… and now recruiting them. The happiest and most fulfilling days of my life were spent with you by my side, young one. I am not telling you this in an attempt to justify or defend my actions in any way, I am telling you this simply because I don’t want an egregious misunderstanding of this magnitude to continue to fester between us when it can be addressed right here and now. In the face of incredible discomfort, I selfishly reverted the terms of our relationship back to what they were two years ago—not because I subconsciously think of you as my Padawan still or that I somehow haven’t recognized your unprecedented list of accomplishments as a Knight—but because you, the former title, and the nature of the relationship it entails were the only things familiar to me when everything else around was so incredibly and uncomfortably foreign. I humbly beg your forgiveness for ever allowing you to spend a single second of your time thinking differently, never mind hours of it.”

You blink, startled by the sudden articulation and sincerity of the apology. “I—it’s… it’s okay.”

“It’s not,” Master Kenobi softly counters, “but your forgiveness is greatly appreciated, no matter how undeserved.”

You smile at him. It’s one of those gentle, sad smiles—the kind of smile that would feel fake if it wasn’t for the comfort you’re trying to provide with it. Carefully, you place a hand on the bend of his knee. “Do you have a place you’d like to start, or would it be easier for you if I asked specific questions?”

He looks at you. Finally. For the first time, his clear blue eyes rise to meet yours and he looks… grateful. “Ask. Please. That would be so much better.”

“A ritual begins tonight,” you say after a moment, studying his handsome facial features for some kind of confirmation of the information you’ve managed to piece together, but then your Master abruptly breaks eye contact with you and lowers his gaze once more. “Yet the Sentinels historically choose not to partake. Why?”

“Because… the Ritual… contains proceedings that stand in direct opposition to the values and teachings of the Jedi,” he explains to the floor. “It goes against the core pillars of our religion to even spectate. The Uncharted Regions are… different. They follow neither the laws nor the customs of the Republic. It was decided long ago to politely decline their invitations, though we offered many times to meet during another time of the year. The Council had no idea the Queen would take this much offense.”

You have to ask. It’s important for you to know, but his rather vague explanation serves to peak your trepidation just as much as it does your curiosity. “…What is…” Maker, you’ve gone unbelievably quiet. “What is the Ritual, Master?”

Obi-Wan goes just as quiet, looking down at his hands as they fiddle idly in his lap. “Ah. Yes. That. Well, the—th-the Ritual is, uh. Uh—”

You blink softly at him and his abrupt loss of articulation, trying to rearrange your expression to be encouraging without appearing too eager.

He suddenly cuts himself off and looks up at you, pinning you with an ocean-deep blue gaze once more. “It’s a celebration of fertility.”

You blink once more at him, this time quite stupidly.

“People are encouraged to be intimate with each other. Openly. Shameless displays of fornication between two consenting adults are commonplace in almost every conceivable forum, said to permanently connect the s’Ziscari to one another through the Force—which is why they usually project throughout the act. In fact, they even have a gathering here at the palace capital, an ‘opening ceremony’ of sorts where people… perform. It’s debauchery disguised as a holiday.”

You… for some reason, the fact that he stares so intently at you while he says it makes your reaction marginally subtler. He gives away no emotion as he takes in how your mouth has formed a soft O shape, how a solemn understanding seems to flood through you. Of course he’d have incredible trouble with something like this. And somehow it’s only then that you fully forgive him for his previous mishaps and mistakes on this mission. You understand now, you get it.

“Ah. Okay. And… and in exchange for the s’Ziscari’s assistance in the Clone Wars, they want us to… what, exactly?” Maker, why is your throat so dry?

“They’ve presented the ultimatum of either walking away from the deal entirely or partaking from the privacy of these chambers,” he answers. “Together.”

Okay, so your reaction is a bit more pronounced this time.

Your eyes widen for a fraction of a second, all the breath in your lungs whooshing out at once. Maker, it’s like he punched you in the chest. Muscle memory alone allows you to almost completely muffle the burst of shock that radiates through the Force, but your face is still a dead giveaway.

Is this… is this a trial? Are you hallucinating? Perhaps a vision, if it wasn’t so beyond ludicrous or had any basis in reality whatsoever. How many vaguely similar scenarios have you imagined throughout the duration of Obi-Wan’s tutelage? And yet never has one been so incredibly creative. Or elaborate.

And then, the thought suddenly hits you.

Oh. Oh, no, this is dangerous.

It’s one thing to harbor a dark, hidden crush on your Master for years, something you refuse to even let yourself think about most of the time. It’s one thing to learn how to bury your needs deep down and refuse to let them see the light of day, to learn how to build a mental fortress around a dirty, terrible secret from your youth and guard it with a saber and matching ferocity. This is the way of the Jedi.

It’s another thing entirely to have it offered to you on a silver platter. To be given just a sample of Darkness, knowing you’ll never have anything close to it ever again.

***

Obi-Wan doesn’t think he’s studied your face this closely in his entire life.

It feels almost… unnatural, how meticulously he’s trying to read your expressions. Outwardly, you don’t appear to be anything more than surprised, really. Not horrified at the idea, just… stunned.

“What did you tell them?” You eventually ask him.

“That I’d need to discuss it with the Council first,” Obi-Wan answers carefully, “and then that I’d need to discuss it with you. And I’d make a decision by midnight, when the Ritual is to begin.”

And—there. He sees it. Your Force signature continues to radiate a gentle calmness outwards, unwavering and unbothered in its beautiful gradient of pale greens and chartreuses and golds, brilliantly contrasting with the cool blues and periwinkles of Obi-Wan’s own signature, but there’s a flash of… something in your eyes, and he sees it for maybe a split second before it’s gone completely.

What did he say? What did he say? He tries quickly to remember. That he’d need to discuss it with the Council first, and then that he’d need to…

Obi-Wan sighs, instantly realizing his mistake. He both openly admitted and proved to valuing the opinion of the Council over yours. He valued the collective opinion of a group of Jedi tens of thousands of light years away who put you in the middle of this ghastly situation more than your opinion. You. The only other person directly involved with this absolute shipwreck of a negotiation, even though you never asked to be. The person whose opinion on such a delicate situation should’ve mattered the most.

Stars, s’Zerthia was right. Has he always been this blind?

“Though… though now I realize that was incredibly dismissive of me.” Obi-Wan’s head drops and his hand comes up to cover and rub at his eyes, feeling halfway stuck between amused at his endless list of mistakes and miserable at how they’ve affected you. “I’ve done absolutely nothing right on this mission so far, young one. And you’ve done absolutely nothing wrong. The Queen of the s’Ziscari said you’re likely the best the Order has to offer and I’m very quickly beginning to see her point.”

You jerk back comically. “She said that?”

He peeks an eye open at you through his fingers, watching you look at him like he’s grown two heads. “…Yes?”

“And not as an insult to the rest of the Jedi?”

Obi-Wan drags his hand down his beard, trying to hold the corners of his mouth down, but it does nothing to stop the small smile that begins to peek through. So he doesn’t try to hide it. He just smiles at you, exasperated but so incredibly fond, shaking his head meaningfully. You sit there and stare at him with your mouth hanging open, completely discombobulated, and Obi-Wan actually begins to chuckle quietly to himself, marveling at how your reaction to the praise practically doubles its sentiment.

You’re the only one who’s been able to make him truly laugh in the past two years. You did it despite his wild discomfort concerning the unfortunate situation the two of you have found yourselves in. You did it despite the foreign territory, the foreign government, the foreign planet, the foreign customs, and the foreign subject matter. And you did it all entirely unprompted, despite everything he’s done to wrong you.

“The lady in the big chair? The one with the fingernails?” You lift your hand up and wiggle your fingers, both looking and sounding like a droid in need of a hard reboot. “The fingernail lady, she said this?”

“Why is that so surprising to you?” Obi-Wan asks with a gentle grin, leaning back to rest his shoulder blades against the bed, his muscles considerably less tense than they were even just two minutes ago.

“Because I don’t—? People don’t—??” You wave your hands around uselessly. “I’m not used to… that.”

“To what?” He prompts, still not removing his attention from your face.

“High praise? I mean—I spent years being told that I was quite possibly the worst of the Jedi,” you laugh awkwardly, and then you change the subject too quickly, like you’re attempting to fill the silence before it can be read into too much. “Not to mention she looked positively delighted when I was dismissed.”

There it is again, he thinks, your eyes once more betraying your signature, tone, and countenance. He only allows himself a beat to silently vow to himself to consciously voice his recognition of your dedication and achievements more often. It’s just… with the right ratio of patience and prompting, he always thought you were such a brilliant student. Obi-Wan is unable to recall the exact moment as a teacher he began to recognize any positive trait you exhibited in his presence as simply part of your hidden, untapped given character instead of a very purposeful mindset you had to actively work to embody. Perhaps the true reason he’s so skeptical about s’Zerthia’s assertion that you care more for him than you let on is because he cannot possibly fathom why. Not when it feels like he’s spent years by your side and is only somehow only just now seeing you.

“Ah, yes, well,” Obi-Wan says, easily glossing over his quiet moment of contemplation without arousing any suspicion, “the Queen is arguably obsessed with seeing how much torture a person can endure without actually having any physical pain inflicted upon them. She gets bored, see. Not many visitors to the Uncharted Regions. She likes to play games with her guests whenever they do arrive.”

You quirk a brow at him. “Then shouldn’t she have revelled in my suffering instead of defending me because of it?”

“I’d say she’s entirely capable of doing both, especially considering just how torturous it was for me to sit there and be reminded of all the many different ways this has been so terribly unfair to you,” he admits softly. “She paid you the compliment as a direct commendation for enduring such mistreatment and still leaving the walls of her palace standing.”

Your expression goes blank again, and Maker, this is more difficult than he thought it’d be. It’s a legitimate challenge to gauge your emotional state when you’ve so clearly mastered your control over your energy signature, to a degree of which Obi-Wan was almost entirely unaware before today.

“You’re sure this is the only way?” You eventually ask. “We either do this together or we go back empty-handed? That’s it? No other options?”

Obi-Wan takes exactly zero seconds to consider the implication behind his answer before confirming your assertion with a solemn nod. “No other options. I’m sorry, young one.”

Later, he’ll reason he refused to present the Queen’s first suggestion to you because he couldn’t agree to the terms, even if you could. It would be of no use for you to share your bed with a s’Ziscari when he was incapable or unwilling to do the same. Yes, that makes… logical sense, he supposes. Right now he just has far too many things on his mind to contemplate it, and the sudden reminder of the situation he’s in causes his heart to start beating faster in his chest.

“Okay. Well…” You look uncertain, your eyebrows furrowing slightly even as your energy continues to glow soft and undisturbed from the center of your being. “Well, what are—what are your… concerns? Is there anything I could do to make this easier for you?”

Because Obi-Wan has absolutely no clue how to answer that question, he just keeps quiet. He supposes it shouldn’t be so surprising that the Uncharted Regions feature so much… uncharted territory. He truly doesn’t know how to go about this; upon explanation of the situation, he had hoped you’d supply a firm no so that the burden of choice was taken away from him. He doesn’t want to offend you, but at the same time, the more you’re not directly protesting against the idea, the faster his heart begins to pound in terror at the realization that… breaking a sacred vow he’s honored his entire life is quickly becoming a very likely probability.

And also… why? Why are you able to be so… calm about this? Why are you not panicking and struggling with this decision the same way he is? When s’Zerthia first suggested you’ve already broken your oath of celibacy, Obi-Wan didn’t want to believe it, yet here you are—asking him if there’s anything you can do to make this easier for him when both of you should be having a crisis about this hypothetical. Are virgins typically so considerate? Is he just being over-dramatic about this? Is this just a manifestation of the serene hue of your saber reaffirming itself? Is this just your cool head prevailing when the one person you’ve spent years looking to for guidance is clearly on the verge of spiraling?

Why? Why aren’t you protesting more?

“Are we actually going to do this?” You ask after a moment, and Obi-Wan unintentionally cringes. Good Maker above, he truly doesn’t mean to. It has almost nothing to do with you—in fact, he can only assume you're genuinely trying your best to adapt to the unfortunate twist of events, and you’re actually managing to be somewhat successful where Obi-Wan is just hopelessly, miserably failing. You must be just trying to maintain some sort of base foundation for his turbulent mental state, but—but then he sees another flash of emotion in your eyes at the way he flinches away from the question.

He opens his mouth to respond—to apologize, or… stars, something, but then you supply a quick reassurance instead. “I won’t—I won’t take offense, if you need me to, you know,” you shrug, very much avoiding his gaze and your voice suddenly sounding incredibly small. “I don’t know. Not make any sounds? Or hide my face? Or… something?”

“You’re…” Obi-Wan’s mind, previously struggling with far too many chaotic, rapid-fire thoughts, suddenly can’t seem to conjure a single one of them. “You’re… serious?”

“It’s not a big deal—” you quickly tell him, “—either way, we don’t have to make it a big deal. I mean, I wouldn’t want it to be… It doesn’t have to be… terrible for you, or anything.”

Maker, is that what you think? That this isn’t a ‘big deal’? He stares at you, the word you used resonating with him. Terrible. On one hand, of course it’s terrible—the whole thing is terrible, it’s something out of an ancient Jedi parable he was told as a youngling, about the sins of passion leading to the Dark Side. On the other hand, he knows you can’t possibly mean it like that, and… you’re somehow managing to interpret this conflict all wrong. Asking him if he needs you to hide your face?

He eventually shakes his head just slightly. “I… No. No, young one, I will not…” he clears his throat, “I will not… require such a thing.”

Though neither of you say anything for quite a long time after that, the loud knock on the door still feels like it’s interrupting a crucial moment.

You quickly call that it’s open, and Obi-Wan turns his head to see the door swing forward and two s’Ziscari in thin black robes, standing in the hallway. A man and a woman.

His heart suddenly thunders against his ribcage and he scrambles to remember the hour. It can’t be midnight yet, no, he needs more time—

The male s’Ziscari says something in his native tongue, and the woman calmly translates to Basic. “Her Majesty the Queen formally requests your presence in the great hall for dinner and the start of the festivities.”

“Respectfully,” you nod at the guard while Obi-Wan struggles to regain himself, “if it pleases her Majesty, Master Kenobi and I would prefer to eat in our quarters tonight, as we are still discussing the nature of our potential involvement in the festivities.”

The woman repeats back your polite and much appreciated response to the guard, and he looks between you two, before clearing his throat and saying something that sounds remarkably similar to his first sentence. The translator turns back to you both. “Her Majesty formally and… firmly requests your presence in the great hall for dinner and the start of the festivities.”

When you don’t respond, Obi-Wan suddenly realizes you’re waiting for him to speak.

“Very well,” he eventually sighs, reminding himself that you both are still guests on this planet. “We shall be there momentarily.”

Regardless of the language barrier, the guard appears to understand the sentiment of his response through the Force, not needing a translation. He says something and then turns to leave as the woman walks into the room, revealing a black bundle of fabric from behind her back to drape along one of the side tables. “Zashir is currently placing your ceremonial robes in your quarters, General Kenobi. If there will be nothing else?”

Maker, his what? Obi-Wan’s pulse stutters. “I’m sure that—that won’t be necessary, my lady—”

“It will be,” she nods shortly. “If there will be nothing else.”

And then she spins around and walks out without bothering to wait for an answer. You blink at the closed door as Obi-Wan drops his head and pinches the bridge of his nose once more, so far beyond stressed concerning how tragically the events of this cursed mission are unfolding that he almost wants to laugh.

“Something tells me the s’Ziscari don’t like the Jedi too much,” you offer after a moment of silence.

“Nonsense,” he counters, lifting his head and sighing helplessly, apparently reverting to sarcasm when everything else he knows is all but ripped away from him. “Wherever could you have gathered that?”

Obi-Wan eventually moves to struggle up to his feet—struggle, being the key word, if only to maintain some essence of behavioral uniformity throughout these past few hours—when he suddenly feels your hand on his elbow.

He glances down at you, your soft features and gentle eyes blinking up at him in his half-standing position next to you.

“We don’t have to do this, you know,” you remind him quietly. “Either way. Not a big deal.”

It’s strange. He knows your primary intent is to put his mind at ease, but everything you’ve been saying just seems… too disconnected. Good people are dying as you speak—civilians, children, innocents, you both know this, and yet…

Perhaps… perhaps Obi-Wan is simply just too emotional right now, too chaotic. He’s certainly not being fair to you. He realizes he’s responding negatively no matter how you’re attempting to go about reassuring him, and though he recognizes it, it’s more difficult than it’s ever been to reign in his mental state.

He clears his throat. “The Queen has assured us that we are free to decline her offer and walk away at any time. Her only stipulation is that we’ll have until midnight to… i-initiate the…”

Stars. Initiate the what? Is this a self-destruct sequence? It may as well be, Obi-Wan thinks, but you nod your understanding and rise to your feet nonetheless, far more gracefully than he does.

“Well,” you sigh, walking over to the side table and pulling the black robe off of it, turning to face him and balling the silky fabric in your hands awkwardly. “Uh. I guess. Fate of the galaxy awaits, and all.”

And then he sees you wince, your subtle call-back to the beginning of this mission landing flat and clearly not contrasting well with your previous assertion to him that this is no big deal, but… for some reason the mistake and subsequent display of self-consciousness makes Obi-Wan relax just marginally. Even if you’re not necessarily panicking, at least you’re still clearly nervous, and that fact alone is more reassuring than anything anyone has said to him since this disaster first started.

“Yes,” he murmurs with a companionable, albeit hesitant smile, patting your shoulder just once before moving to leave. “The… the fate of the galaxy.”

Stars. He’s… well.

Fucked, isn’t he?

#obi-wan kenobi x you #Obi-wan Kenobi X Reader #obi-wan X reader #obi-wan x you #fanfic #self insert #no-droids

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aces-to-apples · 4 years ago

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I doubt Ahsoka ever had the chance to meet Alpha-17, but I have no doubts whatsoever that she's been subjected to a shocking (to other people) number of stories about him from both Anakin and Obi-Wan. He'd be an honorary member of the family to her, by the time they ever did meet.

Anakin would no doubt stroll through the halls of Kamino like he'd commissioned the army himself, dragging her along in his wake, laughing at him to Slow down, Skyguy, my legs aren't that long! Not yet!

And he'd chuckle and tell her to keep up, c'mon, Snips, we can't let him get away, not this time and if anything he'd speed up.

She'd roll her eyes and grin and wave at all the clones they'd pass in the halls. When Anakin would finally slow down, double-check the data-pad in his pocket, smooth down his tabard in an uncharacteristic show of nerves, Ahsoka would know that whoever she's about to meet, they'd be important.

One of the masters, maybe? Stopping over just like them?

She wouldn't be able to recall any Jedi Master who could inspire such a reaction in Anakin, though. Only Master Obi-Wan. Even Yoda didn't garner that much respect and, if she had to name it, desire to impress from him.

So she'd straighten her own skirt, adjust her headdress, give the hilts of her lightsabers a quick buff, and nod encouragingly at Skyguy when he looked back at her. He'd take a reassuring breath, plaster on that cocky grin and wink, then stroll through the doors like he hadn't practically sprinted across half of Tipoca City.

Ahsoka would be nearly disappointed that the room held only clones.

She'd reprimand herself immediately, of course, then look around curiously.

The clones would be older than most of the ones she'd met at that point, maybe even older than Commander Cody. It would make her feel just as intimidated as a room full of Jedi Masters.

They'd probably be sparring with each other.

Not the same kind of sparring that the 501st, or even 212th, usually dealt in. There was rather a lot more heckling and puppy-scuffling and sometimes even betting going on in those. No, they'd be all ferocity and single-minded determination, unafraid of really injuring each other. A true test of their skills.

She and Anakin would wait politely by a wall and she wouldn't see a single clone pull a single punch. She'd probably revise her opinion and label it even more intimidating than a room full of Jedi Masters.

Standing there, watching them, she might start to suspect the identity of who, precisely, could have this kind of effect on Anakin.

Maybe a flash of blue—a very familiar shade—would catch her attention. And watching one of the clones ruthlessly take down his opponent, she'd understand.

The match would end and Anakin would step forward, puffing up his chest like an Alderaani peacock.

He'd congratulate the victor with a smirk that'd say exactly how unsurprised he is by the outcome. Maybe the clone would say something like What kind of trouble did you get into this time? or maybe he'd just raise an unimpressed eyebrow, content to wait Anakin out.

Either way, Anakin would flush, duck his head, then remember his pride and go right back to being all smiles.

He'd turn and gesture—flourish, really—to Ahsoka and say I thought it was long past time to introduce you to my padawan, Ahsoka Tano. The pride rolling off of him in waves would probably have her blushing down to her toes but she'd meet the clone's gaze head-on.

And the clone would cast a critical eye up and down her person, lingering on the strength in her arms and the lankiness of her legs and the two 'saber hilts on her belt. He might say nothing, again, but he might also turn a devastating smirk on Skyguy and say They let you of all people get your hands on a cadet? The G.A.R.'s doomed.

Rather than get defensive and lash out, though, Anakin might smile tentatively, bracing himself. And maybe he'd reply I was hoping you might put her through some paces. Get a feel for what kind of training she might need.

The words would send Ahsoka's head spinning but she'd be grateful, later, when she learned that Anakin had never seen the clone laugh until right then.

Sure thing, kid he'd say when he was done and then turn to back her. Call me Alpha.

And she'd know, have figured it out before the spar had even finished, but it'd still be a shock. Alpha-17 had trained every Commander in the Army, he'd trained Rex. And Skyguy wanted his advice on how to train her, as well.

Swallowing, she'd push her shoulders back and say It's an honor to meet you, sir and he'd shoot another look at Anakin.

It wouldn't be a very nice look but Anakin wouldn't be rattled at all even when he says What the hell kind of stories have you been telling the cadet about me, Skywalker?

Maybe Ahsoka would be able to hold in the reflexive giggle at his offense, maybe not.

Don't know what you're talking about, Alpha Skyguy would say, unapologetic, and Ahsoka would think back to every story she'd heard from either of her Masters (at least twice each) and would know that they were completely true.

Alpha-17 may or may not roll his eyes, depending on how comfortable he felt flouting Anakin's authority as a Jedi. Then he'd face Ahsoka fully, blocking Anakin out of the conversation, and narrow his eyes.

Hope you haven't taken every one of this particular general's lessons to heart yet, cadet he might say. Or something close to it.

And Ahsoka would probably resist the urge to dart a glance at Anakin before admitting Only the useful ones with a bravado she didn't feel.

He'd smile then, shark-like and full of teeth, and say Good answer, cadet. Now let's what those lessons are.

A shiver would probably work its way down her spine and she'd be sore and aching and frazzled by the time Alpha-17 was done testing her skills.

Just before they leave, Alpha-17 might shoot Anakin a deeply suspicious look and tell him Not bad, kid and Ahsoka would marvel at how Anakin would probably light up at that little piece of almost-validation.

And I have no doubt that he'd treat her to the same expression and say I think I'm gonna like you, cadet with all the resignation that came from knowing the Kenobi lineage at the source.

#by apples #star wars #the clone wars #ahsoka tano #alpha-17 #anakin skywalker #*pouts eternally because alpha was supposed to be in charge of the 501st #and gl robbed us of ahsoka being mentored by this grumpy fck*#sw not!fic

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mqgriett · 4 years ago

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Echo- Dinner

Requested by the lovely @alexisinorbit ! I hope you enjoy <3

Prompt: “Are you alright?” “I will be.”

Pairings: Echo X reader

Warnings: none

Summary: staying inside of a coruscant penthouse is weird when you’ve only ever stayed on a ship, and dinner proves to be another challenge.

Notes: this was my fav so far to write

It was odd to be staying in an actual apartment, and even more odd that you had an actual kitchen now. The elite Clone Force 99 were guests inside of the Senate building until General Kenobi gave the “okay” for them to join the 212th on their mission to Felucia, but it proved to be a little… difficult when it came to using all of the fancy appliances. The Bad Batch was used to the cramped space of the Havoc Marauder, not a huge penthouse inside of the upper levels of Coruscant.

Crosshair had given up trying to use the phone to call for room service, and Wrecker was about to smash the device to pieces after only his second try. Hunter was using the downtime to sleep on the king-sized bed and catch up on rest, which you ultimately had to yell at him to do. Tech was toying with the large television in the massive living room, but even a person with his skills couldn’t get it to turn on. Which left you and Echo to try and cook something edible for the rest of the boys.

“Okay, good news and bad news. Which do ya want first?” Echo asked once he returned to the kitchen. He had changed into just a pair of black sleeping pants since his ribs were no longer visible and he felt comfortable enough around you to be shirtless.

You leaned an elbow on the shiny granite counter, “Good news please.” You blew a stream of air up towards your forehead, pushing aside a few stray hairs.

“Hunter’s asleep.” he replied, crossing his arms while smiling proudly.

Raising an eyebrow, you tipped your chin down, “Hunter’s been asleep.”

Your boyfriend nodded, “I know. But there wasn't actually any good news so I had to think fast.”

You tried your best to contain your laughter, but after five seconds of silence you let out a loud giggle while shaking your head, “so what’s the bad news?”

“Wrecker broke another vase.” he sighed, voice dropping to a whisper almost as if to not let the universe hear it. “That makes three.”

From the living room, a harsh crash echoed into the kitchen. You squinted and turned your head slightly to the side, flinching from the noise- Echo did the same. A few seconds later came Wrecker’s apologetic voice, “sorry! I didn’t see that one.”

Echo let out a frustrated groan, “Scratch that, four.” He changed the subject, trying his best to ignore the sound of Crosshair telling Wrecker off for breaking another piece of expensive glass, “what’s the food status?”

“I could make a few Mygeeto burritos. They seem to have all the ingredients.” you responded, leading him to the massive walk-in refrigerator.

He gently wedged his arm in between your waist and elbow, holding you close just because he wanted to. You smiled, leaning towards him for a kiss- but the tender moment was rudely interrupted by Wrecker shouting, “I don’t want no Mygeeto Burritos!”

You rolled your eyes and let your head hang down for a few moments. A raspberry escaped your lips as you searched for something else to make the large clone. He would eat anything, besides Mygeeto Burritos that is. Tech had fed him a chunk of grass during a mission one time, and he ate it like it was actual food.

“There’s some frozen gorg, he’ll have to eat that.” Echo said, unraveling his arm from your side and reaching onto the top shelf. He pulled down a plastic-sealed package of gorg, examining the nutritional facts of the meat to see if it was still good.

“I’ll make the burritos and you make the gorg.” Just the sight of the dead animal made you nauseous and you held your palm to your mouth, gagging at the thought of eating it.

Echo shook the package in front of your face, “are you alright?” he shoved it closer to you as you backed up, “afraid it might jump out at ya?”

You stuck your arms in front of you, pushing his face to the side, “I will be,” your eyes tried their best to avert contact with the frozen creature, “once you get that osik’la thing out of my face.”

He snickered, the two of you walking out of the fridge and back to the kitchen with all of your produce.

The next hour was filled with you two cooking side by side and you frequently asking Echo to taste the food you made.

You cupped your left hand underneath the wooden spoon in your right, humming for your boyfriend to pay attention to you, “try this and tell me what it needs.”

He placed his lips to the utensil, taking a small sip of the broth you made. “Add some salt.” he stated.

Nodding, you replied, “I thought so but wasn’t sure.” You sprinkled in a little more salt, then asking him to taste again.

“Delicious.” he smiled, kissing his finger tips.

You bumped his hip with your own and he returned the gesture. For a moment everything felt perfect, like there was no war at all. In that second it was just you and the love of your life, cooking dinner for your found-family.

Echo walked behind you, placing a chaste kiss on your cheek before reaching up to grab some plates and bowls. He carefully balanced the bowls on his forearms while carrying the plates in his left hand.

Over the past few months that Echo had joined the Bad Batch, he had developed quite the knack for cooking. Maybe it’s because it reminded him of life before the Citadel, when he used to make dinner for Domino Squad if the night watch got boring. You knew him before that awful mission, because just like most of Clone Force 99, you didn’t know your place in all of this until you met them. Most of your time was spent helping General Skywalker and General Kenobi, which is how you had first come into contact with the small clone squad. They were a tight-knit family, something you had always longed for. It tore your heart to pieces when you found out about Fives and Echo, but in war you had to learn to let go of certain things.

But now there was no way you could let go of Echo again, he was too important then and he still is. Your relationship formed quickly, but it came naturally.

You set your utensils down and just hugged him, your thoughts were starting to consume you- but he made it all feel better. That’s what you had always adored about Echo, his ability to make anyone feel safe.

He didn’t question your hug and happily returned the embrace. Once you retracted you placed a gentle kiss on his lips, still tasting some of the broth you made on his mouth. It made you laugh, “let’s bring this out before Crosshair throws more things at Tech.”

Echo nodded, picking up Wrecker’s large plate of deep-fried gorg that he had stuffed with a few vegetables. You carried five other platters, two in each hand, two on your forearms, and one on your head.

Wrecker had reluctantly set the table and then gone to wake up Hunter. For the first time since you had known him, sarg looked well-rested. He scratched the top of his head, yawning loudly before sniffing the air. “Did you make Mygeeto Burritos?” he asked, taking his spot at the table.

You proudly nodded after removing the plate from your head and setting it in front of you.

Everyone immediately devoured their food, practically licking the dishes clean.

And Wrecker didn’t even notice the vegetables in his food.

#clone trooper echo #clone trooper wrecker #clone trooper crosshair #clone trooper tech #clone trooper hunter #echo x reader #bad batch #the bad batch #bad batch x reader

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stellarstarwarsimagines · 4 years ago

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One More Night

Pairing - Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader

Summary - While wandering around town with your partner, you run into an old flame, Obi-Wan Kenobi. He needs your help, and even though you have your reservations about helping the Republic, you agree. But when he lets slip the reason he hasn’t contacted you in so long, you can’t help but question everything you thought you knew about his feelings for you.

Word Count - 5,806

Warnings - Smut 18+ only!

It took you a grand total of about two minutes for you to realize that you were being followed. It would have been less time, but you had gotten distracted by a fight breaking out between a Togruta and a Rodian. The dark robes were unmistakable though after you had turned three corners, and they were still behind you. “So how long have they been following us?” You asked the blue Twi’lek walking with you.

“Oh, around five minutes. I was wondering when you’d catch on.” She said, smirking over at you.

“You could have told me.” You replied, rolling your eyes at her.

“What would be the fun in that?” She asked, her fingers tapping at the weapon clipped to her waist. “You take left, I take right?”

“Have fun.” You replied, winking at her before you darted left and took off at a run.

Your assailants hadn’t realized that the two of you had noticed them. That much was clear by the momentary panic and destruction they caused at your actions. You didn’t stick around to watch, but you could hear it behind you. You took off down the alley as fast as you could, dodging in and out of store fronts and trying to confuse the attackers. When you managed to get on top of a roof, you glanced down and discovered that the two that had been following had split up when Na’lona and you did. There was now only one that seemed to be tracing your steps.

You weren’t about to stick around and find out who it was though. Taking off at a run, you kept going, changing up your path every few corners so it was never the same until you were sure you weren’t being followed anymore. You took a deep breath, leaning against the wall of an alleyway. It was clear that you were getting way too old for this running around business.

That was when you heard it. The hum of a lightsaber. You didn’t even have to open your eyes anymore to know who it was, but you did anyway. After all, who would want to pass up the sight of looking at Obi-Wan Kenobi, breathless and disheveled after chasing you for the past ten minutes? “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” You said, letting your eyes wander his form, from the messy hair and rosy cheeks, all the way down to his heaving chest and powerful stance.

It was easy to forget about the lightsaber pointed at your chest. “Did you have to run?” He asked, ignoring your taunt and sounding exasperated.

You cocked an eyebrow at him. “Getting old, Obi-Wan? Last time I saw you, I seem to recall you having plenty of stamina. Of course that was about a year ago.” You took a great deal of pleasure at the sight of his composure faltering for a brief moment as his cheeks, already flushed with pink, darkened.

The hum of his lightsaber disappeared as he deactivated it, and instead of the usual quip back, you frowned as he took a step away from you. “A lot can happen in a year.” Obi-Wan replied.

“Ah yes, a War torn Galaxy, droids everywhere and Clones led by the former Peacekeepers now turned soldiers. Should I call you General now?” You teased him, biting your lower lip.

It had been so long since you had seen him, you had forgotten how captivating those vivid blue eyes were. You couldn’t take yours off them, not that you wanted to, so you didn’t miss the way they followed your movement. “I’d prefer if you didn’t, but it’s nice to see some things never change.”

“Master!”

Torn out of the bubble that the two of you had created for yourselves, you both glanced behind Obi-Wan to find the other brown cloaked figure running towards the two of you. At about that time, you caught sight of Na’lona on the nearby roof, everyone else oblivious to her presence. She sent you a wink, and you watched in amusement as the other Jedi that had been chasing her fell over a box that had not been there moments ago and crashed to the ground.

You couldn’t help but let out a snort as Obi-Wan shook his head. “Is that your Padawan?” You asked. “The Chosen one you’re always complaining about?”

“That would be him.” He answered, watching as the boy you remember being called Anakin stood up.

He looked back and forth between Obi-Wan and you, then at the ground where he had been moments ago. “Master, is she a Jedi? Is that why you didn’t want to tell me about her?”

A snort left your lips as you looked at Obi-Wan, trying not to laugh even harder. “He thinks I’m a Jedi? Na’lona, did you hear that? He thinks I’m a Jedi.” You called in the direction of your friend, watching as Obi-Wan’s expression changed at the name.

She appeared a few feet in front of you, landing with a delicate grace that left no doubt as to who was the Jedi here. “He’s not the brightest is he?” She asked, and then turning to the man in front of you. “Master Kenobi. It’s been a while.”

“It has indeed.” It was hard to describe his tone. There seemed to be many layers to it, regret, disappointment, and even a hint of intrigue. “How, may I ask, did the two of you come to meet?”

“Well, that’s a long story, Obi, and by the efforts you’ve made to talk to me so far today, I get the feeling you don’t have time for such a thing.” You had to admit, you were curious. It had been a long time since Obi-Wan had sought you out, and in the midst of a war, you couldn’t help but wonder what could be so important that he would have to take time from the battlefield to find you. “So let’s cut to the chase here. What is it that you need?” You asked, raising your eyebrows at him.

One of the things you liked about Obi-Wan was that he never attempted to beat around the bush with you. He never tried to soften any sort of blow because he knew how much you hated it. This time was no different. “The Republic needs your help, and if you refuse, I’ve been ordered to arrest you.”

Oh it had to be bad then. The Republic hated you, as they hated all smugglers. If they were in need of one, they must be very desperate indeed. Looking into Obi-Wan’s light eyes, you could see the pleading there, and you knew he was begging you not to make this any more difficult than it already was. If it had been anyone else they sent, you might have fought, attempted to escape, but it was Obi-Wan, and you had never been able to deny him anything. “It doesn’t seem as if I’m being given much of a choice then.”

The relief in his eyes was palpable, and his whole body seemed to relax somewhat as he turned to Na’lona. “You know, the Order could use someone with your skills again Na’lona. We need Jedi like you -”

“And return to the Order that abandoned my Master? Not a chance.” She replied, her face hard as she looked at Obi-Wan before looking at you once more. “You’re on your own for this.”

As much as you hated to be without your partner these days, you could understand her reasoning. The Jedi Order and her did not have a good history. In fact, it was so terrible that she had rebelled from the Order all together after her Master had been murdered, and the Jedi had done nothing about it. She wasn’t a Sith by any means, but she no longer believed in the ways of the Jedi, so going back for her would not turn out well. “Keep the ship safe for me?” You told her.

“You got it,” she agreed, thankfulness in her eyes as she took off down the alley in a sprint.

Obi-Wan moved to go after her, but you grabbed his wrist. “It’s me, or neither of us.” You told him, your voice hard. While you would do a lot for Obi-Wan, betraying your friend would not be one of those things.

He stared at you for a moment, and you had that feeling you always got when he was gazing into your eyes, as if he was reading the deepest parts of your soul. After a few moments, he nodded, and you couldn’t help but sigh in relief. Of course that turned into a frown as you heard a clicking noise, and looked down at your now bound hands.

“Is this necessary?” You asked, rolling your eyes as you held them up.

Obi-Wan smirked at you, looking more like himself than he had the whole time he had been standing there. “Appearances of course. I’m sure you understand.”

You scoffed.

____________________

It was impossible not to stare as you made your way onto what must be the largest ship in the Republic Fleet. As a Smuggler, you had come across your fair share of large transport ships, but this? This was like nothing you had ever seen before. Gleaming silver metals, smaller ships, clones in white armor with various other colorings running around and checking systems . . . it was a whole different world.

“I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you speechless.” Obi-Wan’s amused voice said behind you, his hand a soft pressure against the small of your back as he urged you forward.

His words pulled you out of your trance, and you turned around to grin at him. “Come on now, Obi-Wan, don’t settle yourself short. I seem to recall a few times when I was speechless around you. Most of them involving that talented mouth of yours on my -”

Obi-Wan pulled you against him so fast, you lost your train of thought, the smile vanishing from your lips as his presence took up every one of your senses, his eyes once more locked on yours in an inescapable grasp, his scent of sunshine and linen filling your head, his sturdy body pressing against yours while his voice silenced the rest of the ambience in the room. “I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t be so callous speaking about our history in front of everyone.”

You attempted to regain control of yourself, but it was hard to do when he was standing so close to you it took over every thought you were having. When he spoke though, it reminded you of why it would never work between Obi-Wan and you in the first place. “Ah, of course, wouldn’t want anyone to know that the great, handsome, General Obi-Wan Kenobi had lowered himself to sleeping in the bed of some Smuggler.” You said, some of the fire being taken out of your tone by the breathless quality of your voice.

If you hadn’t been so caught up in looking at his eyes, you would have missed the flash of disappointment in them. “You know that’s not the case.” He insisted, but before you could make another response, he had turned you back around and led you along the ship.

Almost immediately you were rushed into a hologram meeting with Obi-Wan, Anakin, some clones, and several members of the Jedi Order. You didn’t say much, observing instead of butting in with questions to annoy them. Obi-Wan’s words had intrigued you, and you couldn’t get your mind off them and their possible meanings. For the past year, the only conclusion you had been able to draw from Obi-Wan’s lack of contact after your week together was that he had been embarrassed it had occurred in the first place. It had hurt, but you were a strong person and had gotten over it. Now, it was as if your galaxy turned upside down, and you had more than a million questions for the Jedi who stood in front of you, regal and elegant, but with a tenseness in his back that you couldn’t ignore.

Obi-Wan had said a lot could happen in a year. You couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to him.

“-you’re responsible if anything happens, Obi-Wan.” The words caught your attention and made you look up to see a hologram of Mace Windu lecturing Obi-Wan.

His gaze shot over to you, lingering there for a moment as you looked into each other’s eyes for a moment. He then turned back to the hologram with a nod. “Understood,” was all he said.

“Then the plan begins tomorrow. May the Force be with you.” Obi-Wan nodded, and the hologram ended. He gave a couple more orders to some of the other people in the room, and then he turned to you. “I’m afraid we don’t have much in the way of quarters, but there is a small room we’ve made available for you to sleep for a few hours until we reach our destination.”

There was a quip on the tip of your tongue, but your mind was still too filled with trying to come up with reasoning for Obi-Wan’s actions for you to say it. Instead you nodded, and let him lead you out of the chambers, and into a small room with a tiny bunk.

“There’s a refresher through that door.” He pointed out to you. “If you’d like to get cleaned up.”

You nodded, not saying anything, and your lack of words seemed to confuse him.

“You’re being uncharacteristically quiet.” Obi-Wan said, raising his eyebrows at you.

Shrugging your shoulders, you sat down on the cot, frowning at the uncomfortableness you could already sense, “thinking.”

“Ah,” you expected him to inquire what about, and it seemed as if he wanted to, but then he pulled himself back with a slight shake of his head. “Well, I’ll leave you to it.” He started to back away, but you reached out, grabbing a hold of his hand.

“What you said earlier, that being embarrassed of me wasn’t the case . . . what was the case?” You asked him, unable to keep the question inside of you any longer. You had to know. It would haunt you until you did.

For a moment, it almost looked as if he wanted to reach out to you, and your mind flashed back to a memory of him doing that very thing a year ago, the brush of his fingers, the pressure of his body against yours and those blue eyes lighting a path to some of the best pleasure you had ever known to this day.

But he resisted, and you watched as he took a step back. “Jedis aren’t supposed to form attachments, and I was already far too attached to you.” Obi-Wan told you, and while you had no Force abilities to know otherwise, truth rang in his voice.

His words rendered you speechless, every word that you had told yourself to get over the time the two of you had together crumbling around you like a ship had blasted right through it. He used your silence as a means to leave, a small, sad smile on his face as he did so, shutting the door behind him and ending the conversation.

It wasn’t fair, not when you still had so many questions for him.

You waited about three minutes before you decided to follow him. It took you an embarrassingly long time to discover where he was staying on board, but after a plea to one of the clones, you found yourself knocking on the door.

He answered, and not only did he answer, but he answered while wearing nothing but what you assumed were his sleeping pants. Seeing him like this once again threw you back into memories that you had such a hard time trying to forget. When he called your name though, it threw you out of your daze, and you shook your head to clear your mind. “What are you doing here?” Obi-Wan asked you.

“You can’t walk away after saying something like that. Not after spending a year avoiding any and all contact with me.” You told him, crossing your arms over your chest.

For a moment, it looked as if he wanted to argue, and indeed, that’s what the Obi-Wan you had known would have done, but instead he sighed and moved away from the door, giving you enough room to pass. “Would you like anything to drink?” He said.

But you didn’t respond. When he had turned away from you, you couldn’t help but glance at his muscled back, and gasped in shock.

It was covered with scars all in various degrees of healing. It was the type of scars you had seen on the backs of slaves that you had given passage to. It was whip marks.

“Obi-Wan . . . What the hell happened to you?” You finally managed to speak, hurrying towards him and reaching out to touch the scars, but stopping at the last moment. You didn’t want to hurt him if they were bothering him.

His tense shoulders dropped somewhat as he turned around to face you. It was clear that he was attempting to reassure you, but nothing he could say could do that after you had seen the marks marring his beautiful skin. A small, insincere smile formed on his lips. “It’s been a long year.”

“Don’t give me any of that cryptic mess. Those are marks I’ve seen on slaves. Who did this to you?” You found yourself growing a mixture of angry and worried. Obi-Wan had said earlier that a lot could happen in a year, and you were now beginning to realize how much.

“It’s none of your concern.” He replied, shaking his head at you.

“Afraid I’ll find them and kill them?” You asked, crossing your arms over your chest.

Obi-Wan’s answer was quick. “Yes, and I don’t want any bloodshed on my behalf.”

The two of you stared at each other, stubbornness on both of your faces as your eyes looked into the others. Eventually the resolve in his made you sigh and drop your arms. “Do you have tea?” You asked.

He seemed a little startled by the change in subject, but nodded. “Yes, I’ll start the kettle -”

But you shook your head. “Not to drink.” You walked over to his cabinets until you found the box and began creating a mixture you had learned years ago. “It’s to help you. Some of those still look irritated.”

“That’s unnecessary I have -”

“If you won’t tell me who did this to you, it’s the least you can do.” You told him, not leaving him any room for argument. Which he normally wouldn’t care about, but it was a testament to how much he must be hurting that he didn’t. The thought of anyone hurting Obi-Wan made you so angry your hands shook as they stirred the mixture. You knew the man could protect himself, and that he didn’t need you defending him by any means, but the fact that someone had hurt him to this degree made rage boil inside of you. Obi-Wan was such a good and pure man . . . how could someone ever do harm to him?

It was times like these that you were reminded of how you never would have made it as a Jedi. You let your emotions get the best of you way too often.

Focusing back on the task at hand, you finished the mixture and instructed him to sit down in front of you. “Why haven’t you gone to the Medbay to get these healed? Doesn’t the Republic have enough funds to heal their saviors?” You asked him as you scooped some of the ointment into your hands and warmed it up with your hands.

You watched as Obi-Wan gripped the chair in front of him, and though you couldn’t see his face, you knew that his jaw was tense. “Some scars are worth remembering.” He answered.

Almost as if you had no control over it, your eyes drifted down to your arm where a small scar ran across the front of it in a horizontal line. A scar that Obi-Wan had been with you when you got. That was a memory you had no desire to forget any time soon. “I guess you’re right.” You answered in a soft voice as you laid your hands on his back and started working the balm into his skin.

As soon as your hands touched the top of his shoulders, he tensed, and you froze, wondering if you had done something wrong, and you yanked your hands away. “I’m sorry,” he said, glancing back at you for a moment. “Your hands are cold.”

Except you knew that they weren’t. You didn’t point that out, nodding instead and as soon as he turned back around you got to work once more. Taking a glance at the scars, you decided to start towards his lower back where the scars had begun to fade and work your way to the top where they were the darkest. Your hands were gentle as you studied the marks, and the more and more you looked at them, the more certain you were that they were from whips.

What had the Republic been sending him to do?

“Obi-Wan -” You said, not wanting to break the quiet of the room, but unable to hold it in anymore.

But he stopped you, and you watched as his hands tightened on the chair in front of him. “I don’t wish to speak about it. Please.” He added on, a pleading to his voice that you couldn’t ignore.

You wanted to argue. You wanted to make him tell you, but you were no Jedi, and there had been a time when he had respected your wishes of not wanting to tell him something. The least you could do was return the favor now.

So you got back to work, your hands working the balm into his skin, and you noticed with every passing second Obi-Wan became more relaxed, sinking into the chair in front of him, a soft sigh escaping his lips.

While you emptied the last of the bowl onto his back, you couldn’t help but notice his reaction, and almost without you noticing, your hands began doing less of spreading the ointment, and more of massaging it into his skin.

His reaction was immediate. Obi-Wan’s head dropped forward, resting on his hands as his shoulders slumped. You felt his back rise and fall under your fingertips with a shuddering breath as you continued a path from the small of his back up to his shoulders.

You let your eyes trace the length of his back. Overall, everything looked the same as it had before. He had a few more scars, but mostly, it was as you remembered. Except this time you were seeing it in the light of his room instead of in the moonlight.

It had been as electrifying then as it felt right now.

“What do you remember about that night?” You whispered, not wanting to break the moment, but desperate to know if he was feeling the energy, the tension, rising in the room like you were.

It took him a few moments to respond, and for a brief moment in time you thought he might have fallen asleep under your fingers, but then he spoke. “I remember everything.” He replied, as quietly as you had spoken. “How bright the moon was . . . How hot and humid that planet got . . .”

Yes, you remembered that too. It had been a full moon lighting up the sky, and you also remembered stripping out of as many layers as you could, hoping for a little relief. Not to mention it had the added benefit of making Obi-Wan blush, which you now knew, wasn’t from the heat alone.

He hesitated for a moment, and you felt him take a deep breath, as if unsure whether to say the next words. “I remember thinking how, despite the circumstances, I was the luckiest man in the Galaxy to be trapped there with someone as intriguing and beautiful as you.”

His soft spoken words had your heart pounding. From any other mouth, you wouldn’t have hesitated one moment to believe they were a line, but . . . Obi-Wan didn’t have that ability. You leaned forward, your lips so close to his ear, you saw shivers erupt across his skin. “What are your thoughts now?” You asked him, desperate for his answer.

“They haven’t changed,” Obi-Wan replied, this time without hesitation. “That’s why I’ve avoided -”

You distracted him by placing a soft kiss against the spot beside his ear.

He murmured your name, almost like a plea. “This isn’t a good idea.”

“Well, I’ve never been a fan of good ideas. Especially when it involves Jedi.” You teased, leaving even more kisses on his neck, all the way down to his shoulder.

In a move that left you breathless, Obi-Wan spun around, his hands gripping your wrist that were in the air from moments ago when they had been placed on his back. “I’m not supposed to form attachments. You know that.”

“So don’t,” You said. “We’ve done this already, why can’t we do it again? You didn’t form an attachment last time.” You, on the other hand, were a different story.

He was shaking his head before you had even finished your sentence. “I was . . . I was naive then. I believed as long as you didn’t have any genuine feelings for me, I could avoid my own.”

Obi-Wan thought you didn’t . . . How could anyone be with a man like Obi-Wan Kenobi, see the kindness in his eyes, feel the gentle reassurance of his touch, the softness of his lips and not develop feelings for him? “Obi-Wan, I’m afraid if the only reason you didn’t develop an attachment is because you thought I didn’t . . . We’re both doomed.” You whispered, your eyes drifting to those full lips for a moment.

His head reached out, resting under your jaw and tilting your chin up until you looked him in the eyes. You could see the war raging there in those deep blues as he stared at you. You wished you could be a Jedi in that moment, seeing what was going on in his head. “So be it,” he said, and in a sudden movement, tugged you into his lap by your hand and leaned forward to capture your lips in a deep kiss.

There was no hesitation in your response. You kissed him back with a year’s worth of tension, memories and dreams that had built up since the moment that the two of you had separated. Never did you think there would be something that would have such a profound impact on you as Obi-Wan Kenobi, but here you were, melting and longing for everything he could give you.

His lips were as soft as you remembered, though the ferociousness in his kiss would make you think otherwise. He was as talented in his kiss as he was at sweet -talking the most stubborn of politicians, thorough and persistent with the perfect amount of pressure. When he pulled away, you were breathless, chasing his lips for more, but he shook his head.

“I want to see you,” he whispered, his fingers tugging at the buttons of your loose shirt, his eyes begging for permission which you gave readily.

Once again you were amazed by the composure he was able to keep while he rid you of the rest of your clothing. You were nothing less than a panting mess under his touch, and his fingers were steady as they could be until he made you stand up so you could remove your pants and underwear with them. You started to move back into his lap, but he stopped you with his hands on your hips.

You felt heat rushing to your face as you watched him take you in, his eyes moving over every inch of your exposed body, almost as if he was searing the image of you into his memory. Finally, he leaned forward once more, pressing a soft kiss to your stomach. “As beautiful as I remembered.” He whispered against your skin as his lips traveled up your stomach and to your chest where he enclosed your nipple in his mouth dragging his tongue across it.

Gasping out his name, your head fell back in pleasure because the talents of this man’s mouth could not be overstated. “Obi-Wan . . .” You gasped out, your hands finding his hair and giving it a sharp tug.

He let out a grunt, and tugged you once more into his arms, this time standing up and depositing you onto his bed as if you were made of glass. You licked your lips as you watched him finish undressing, as gorgeous and . . . large as you remembered, if not more so.

He didn’t make you wait, climbing on top of you with his lips resuming their previous position on your breast. Maker he was so . . . good. He had ruined you back then, and you had no doubts in your mind that he would do it again tonight.

You couldn’t wait for it.

Your whole body began to tingle as you felt one of Obi-Wan’s hands moving from where it had been on your other breast, down your stomach until it slipped inside of you. He looked up when he realized how wet and eager you were for him, sliding up your body once more until the two of you were face to face. “Maker, you’re incredible.” He said, and leaned down to capture your lips in another kiss.

Wrapping your legs around his waist, you let him set a slow rhythm as he added another finger inside of you, your hips moving in time with him. You couldn’t control the whimpers you left against his lips as he teased you with his pace, never speeding up and leaving his fingers inside of you just long enough to want more. It was the most pleasurable torture that you had ever been through. “Obi, please,” you murmured when he pulled away, your fingers digging into the sheets surrounding you.

“What do you want, darling?” He whispered, his nose nuzzling against your own, his fingers slipping all the way out of you.

You groaned at the loss, your hips arching up to try and catch his fingers again, but he kept them right out of your reach. So you decided that two could play at that game. You reached down with one of your hands and took him in your grip, brushing him up and down your wet slit. “I need you inside of me,” You murmured, watching his face as his eyes closed at your manipulation. “I’ve been thinking about how it felt for months, Obi-Wan.” You told him, moving your hips once more so nothing but the tip slipped inside of you, causing him to let out a groan. “Do you remember how amazing it felt? Nothing’s ever felt as good since -”

Your words ended in a loud moan as Obi-Wan took matters into his own hand once more and sheathed himself inside of you in one smooth motion. “Your fingers?” He murmured, pressing kisses down the side of your neck for a moment before whispering in your ear. “Or someone else?”

“Either,” you answered without hesitation, letting out a gasp as he began grinding his hips against yours so he could hit that special spot inside of you. “Nothing’s as good as you.” You gasped, nothing but truth in your words as Obi-Wan met your gaze once more.

“You’re going to get me in trouble.” He murmured, looking down at you with a tender look.

You returned his look with one of your own, your hands slipping back into his soft hair. “From what I know about you, Obi-Wan Kenobi . . . You love trouble.”

He shook his head at you, that pretty smile on his face, and leaned down to capture your lips once more, silencing your moans somewhat as he began a much faster pace. It was almost relentless, the way that he pounded into you now, as if he had built up so much tension he had been waiting to release it. You weren’t going to complain because with every passing second you felt yourself get closer and closer to the edge, doing your very best to keep up with his pace, and by the tension in his arms and stomach, you could tell he was feeling the same.

Unlike any other lover that you had, that cared about that of course, he did not have to ask if you were close. It was almost as if he could read your mind, and part of you wondered if he did a little when his finger began rubbing that pleasurable little spot, knowing how much pressure to add to make you topple off the edge into an oblivion of pleasure, shuddering and shaking while he silenced the moan of his name with his lips.

His hips kept up their relentless pace, though they were much gentler now, chasing his own release. After a few more thrusts, you could feel him to start to pull away from you, but you stopped him. While it wasn’t smart, you wanted to feel him inside of you for as long as you could. You half expected him to deny your wishes, but he was as far gone as you were, and with one last snap of his hips, he buried himself inside of you, groaning against your lips as he let go inside of you.

Satisfied. Completely and totally satisfied were the only words you could think to describe yourself as Obi-Wan caught his breath and began pressing kisses down your chin as he recovered. You let out a few noises of contentment as he did, enjoying the soft touches as he pulled out of you and headed to the refresher, returning with a wet cloth that he began to clean you up with. His touch was so gentle, as if you were so delicate, much different than a few minutes when he had been pounding into you with a pace you were sure would leave you sore tomorrow.

Oh tomorrow.

Obi-Wan tossed the cloth aside, sliding back into bed as you turned on your side and wrapping his arms around you, burying his face in your neck.

You couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh as his beard tickled your skin. He squeezed you tight for a moment at the sound before pressing a gentle kiss to your skin. “So . . . you haven’t lost your stamina after all.” You teased.

This time it was his turn to laugh.

#obi wan kenobi #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan kenobi x you #obi wan kenobi imagine #star wars imagine

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obwjam · 4 years ago

Text

the tiniest jedi

okay folks, here we go... i’d like to introduce you all to my oc, Jedi Knight Jayla Nor’al! she is five inches tall, 22 years old and the former padawan of good ol’ yoda. she was knighted so she could fight in the clone wars, and now she’s off to help command her first-ever battalion!

when i rewatched clone wars recently i basically took note of episodes where a tiny could fit into the plot (spoiler: there’s a lot lol) so this is part 1 of the first installment of me recreating the filoniverse into the obwjamverse

i hope y’all enjoy <3 love you all sm

the hidden enemy, part 1

>> part two

To say Jedi Knight Jayla Nor’al was nervous would be a tremendous understatement.

It had taken a lot of convincing that bordered on begging to get the council to agree to this. Having Anakin vouch for her seemed like a good idea in theory, but in practice it usually ended with Obi-Wan rubbing his eyes while the council fiercely debated the merits of Anakin’s argument.

Anakin was always sticking up for her. She was a few years older than he was, but more than anyone, he understood what it was like to have a tough life. They first met one day when he was a padawan, no more than 13 years old. Obi-Wan was sent off on a mission by himself to retrieve a holocron and a disgruntled Anakin went to Yoda to continue his training. He was far more advanced than the group of younglings he was with, but before he could complain too much, something -- no, someone -- caught his eye.

She was standing on a table at all of five inches tall, arms crossed in a dim corner of the room. The other younglings were practicing basic combat stances. She looked rather bored with it all. Anakin would have probably glossed right over her if it wasn’t for the tunic she was wearing.

“Master Yoda, who is that?” Anakin asked while the group was taking a break. She had now sat down, cross-legged, with her eyes closed and her shoulders relaxed. He marveled at how her tiny silhouette almost blended in with the scenery entirely.

“My padawan, she is,” Yoda stated.

“Padawan?” Anakin was shocked. Obi-Wan never told him Yoda had a padawan.

Yoda hummed. “Surprised, you are, hmm?”

Anakin could only nod as Yoda trotted over to her. “Well, it’s… she’s…”

“Padawan Nor’al, ready, you are?” he asked quietly. Anakin gasped at how Yoda practically towered over this tiny person. She calmly opened her eyes and gave a single nod.

“Younglings, gather here,” Yoda called out to the group. He nodded to Anakin, who curiously followed. He heard a couple of the other younglings snicker in disbelief. “Demonstrate Form III, my padawan will. Close attention to footwork, you must pay.”

Anakin’s eyes widened as a training remote whirred to life. To a normal-sized person, practicing with a remote could sting if you didn’t know know what you were doing. But she was not a normal-sized person. That remote must look like a tank to her!

“Master Yoda--” Anakin started, but Yoda held his hand up.

“You may begin.”

What Anakin witnessed next may or may not have changed his life.

It was like she knew where the blasts were going before they were even fired. She was so quick that Anakin’s eyes could barely adjust to the blinding speed she seemed to be moving at. She firmly stood her ground as she deflected blast after blast, her eyes moving wildly as she deciphered the shooting pattern of the remote. She found her opening, charged forward, leaped up and sunk her lightsaber straight through the metal. The droid sputtered and sparked before falling to the table, lifeless. She hopped down and gave Yoda a small bow as if nothing had even happened.

“Thank you, padawan. Continue to practice, younglings. Much work to do, you have.”

Still in shock, the younglings picked up their sabers and began to practice, some yelping in surprise when the blasts stung at their legs. She had made it look so easy.

She was taking note of the younglings’ form when she paused to raise her eyebrow. Anakin was still standing there.

“Staring is rude,” she said shortly. Looking at her up close, Anakin could clearly see how she was nervously eyeing him.

“That was really cool,” he said, crouching down a bit so he didn’t loom too large.

She gave a small smirk. “Master Yoda is a good teacher.”

“What’s your name?”

“I’m Jayla... Jayla Nor’al,” she said, giving Anakin heavy side-eye. What does he want?

“My name’s Anakin. I’m Master Kenobi’s padawan.”

“Anakin Skywalker?” she asked incredulously. “What -- what are you doing here?”

“My master is on a mission and didn’t want to take me.”

She scoffed. “That’s silly. Padawans should always be with their masters to learn.”

“Tell that to Obi-Wan,” Anakin sighed. “Does Master Yoda take you on missions with him?”

Anakin’s lips pursed into a frown as she sat down, looking dejected. “Mostly, yeah. But sometimes I think he thinks I’m too… well… you know.”

“Too small.”

She gave him a surprised look. “Yeah.”

“A little ironic, coming from him.”

Jayla laughed. “You can’t say that!”

Anakin laughed back. “Sure I can.”

It was hard for Jayla to really grow close to anyone, no matter how hard she tried to befriend the others. Anakin knew exactly how that felt. The two were lonely, and they found each other. Their friendship only grew stronger as they got older -- Jayla helped Anakin learn to trust in the Force more and Anakin helped Jayla grow her confidence. Obi-Wan admired how well they complimented each other.

Yoda eventually began to take Jayla on more dangerous missions. Spending time with Anakin and Obi-Wan had diversified her skill set more than most padawans and, as the Jedi Council sensed the growing discourse between the light and the dark, Jayla and Anakin were both knighted so they could fight in the Clone War.

But everyone had underestimated the fierceness and enormity of the conflict.

It was evident from the beginning of her training that Jayla was fearless -- that she would not let her size stop her from doing anything. She was a fierce negotiator; a skilled fighter; she had a deep and powerful connection to the Force. And yet, her size was the very thing stopping the council from giving her any responsibilities outside of putting together training recordings, teaching younglings and spearheading negotiations.

“I can’t believe this,” Jayla groaned to Obi-Wan one rare quiet day on Coruscant. Anakin was off on a recon mission. Obi-Wan had duties to attend to, but he would always take a pause to talk with Jayla.

“If Master Yoda and the council feel this is for the best, then you need to listen.”

“I didn’t become a Jedi to play it safe. I just… I don’t understand why Yoda keeps babying me.”

“You’ve only recently become a Jedi knight,” Obi-Wan pointed out. “You need to be patient.”

“Yeah, the council did that so I could fight in the war.” Jayla got up, pacing around the windowsill. “I mean, it doesn’t make sense! I’m trained in combat. I have useful skills. I’ve been out there before, Obi-Wan! Why spend my entire life telling me ‘size matters not, hmm’, then use it as a reason to hold me back?”

Obi-Wan frowned. He hated how her frame seemed to get swallowed up by the bustling backdrop of the Republic captial outside.

“Can I be honest?” Obi-Wan asked slowly. Jayla’s expression softened as she plopped down, resting her elbows on her knees and meeting Obi-Wan’s gaze a few feet from her.

“Always.”

“Well, I shouldn’t really tell you this, but I think it’s important that you know. The council has its reservations, but they mostly agree that you are more than capable of being a general. It’s… it’s the Chancellor who has persuaded them into keeping you here.”

“The Chancellor? Why would he care?”

“It’s my understanding that many in the senate feel it would be a sign of weakness if you were to command a battalion.”

“That’s ridiculous! It’s not even the senate’s decision to make!” she cried.

“On military matters, it is. And until Chancellor Palpatine changes his mind, then I’m afraid there’s nothing that can be done.”

Jayla tried to forget about that conversation every time she got upset. But as the conflict raged on and Republic forces took beating after beating on the Outer Rim worlds, Obi-Wan felt the situation was becoming dire. It was less about who had strength and more about who had the tactical advantage. The better strategy. The better intelligence.

Yoda too felt desperate. He was engulfed in the war and convinced that winning it was the only way to save the galaxy from certain doom. He heard the plight of his former padawan day after day, to the point where he began to question if his gut feeling was really right. He hadn’t been meditating as much lately. The Force always gave him the guidance he needed. Between Anakin, Obi-Wan and her own former master, the council was able to convince Palpatine that allowing her to lead stealth and recon missions was a perfectly reasonable starting point.

Since it was nearly impossible to plant a conventional spy into the droid army, Jalya and Anakin had conspired and came up with the idea of using her as a spy. Mace Windu was concerned about her being captured. Anakin argued that her life sign registered so faintly on scanners that capture wasn’t as easy as it seemed. Ki-Adi-Mundi feared she would get lost in the blur of so much violence. Obi-Wan said that all she needed was a wrist comm and someone to use as transportation and protection.

So after months of debating, planning, talking to Yoda and gear-building, the perfect situation had arisen. Today, it was finally going to happen.

And she… didn’t know how to feel.

She was accompanying Anakin and Obi-Wan on the Resolute to Christophsis, where the GAR was getting whalloped day after day. Most recently, a secret plan was thwarted before it had even gotten underway. It was obvious that the Separatists were somehow accessing Republic intelligence. And it was Jayla’s job to find out how.

“You’re not nervous, are you?”

From the comfort and privacy of sleeping quarters, she was perched pensively on Anakin’s shoulder; which, in retrospect, was probably a bad place to be with the way she was fiddling with her hands and bouncing her leg.

“Don’t ask me that when you already know the answer,” Jayla mumbled.

“I didn’t, actually, but thanks for confirming it for me.”

Jayla groaned. “I’m not nervous about going into the field.”

“Good. You shouldn’t be.”

“It’s…” she started, but couldn’t bring herself to admit. She was hoping Anakin could connect the dots.

“It’s… what? It’s the ship?” Anakin knew how much she hated flying.

“This isn’t my first Star Destroyer. It’s the starfighters that make me sick.”

“Okay, so it’s not the ship. Is it Obi-Wan?”

Jayla sniffed a laugh. “Why would it be Obi-Wan?”

“Well, it took a little bit of convincing to get him to agree to this.”

“You mean a lot of convincing,” she sighed. “I can personally guarantee you that Obi-Wan is not making me nervous.”

“Well, Tiny, I’m at a loss--”

Anakin was cut off at the sound of his wrist comm beeping. She quickly grabbed onto a stray piece of his hair for support as he moved his arm up.

“Anakin, Jayla, come meet me at the bridge. Captain Rex will be arriving here shortly.”

“Copy that.” Anakin turned his head slightly to meet Jayla’s gaze, and the Force flashed in a brief moment of worry. Anakin furrowed his brows.

“You’re nervous about Rex?”

Jayla sucked in a deep breath. “No -- not particularly -- no. No, I’m not nervous about Rex.”

Anakin knew she was lying, but he wasn’t about to push it. After all, he didn’t want Obi-Wan lecturing him for being late. Again.

Jayla clung to Anakin’s robe as they made their way through the gray halls of the ship. Even from her perspective, the walls seemed suffocating, so Jayla kept her eyes trained on the ground, avoiding the gaze of every trooper that passed. The rigidness of clone armor was… off-putting.

As they approached the bridge doors, Jayla cautiously took a seat and closed her eyes. When all else failed, the Force was always there for her, guiding her and bringing her to a place where she felt at ease. Going into this mission with any apprehension would be fatal, and she knew it. The Force was pulling her toward the battlefield -- to Anakin, to Obi-Wan, to the citizens of the worlds they were helping to protect. The Jedi Order was her life, and that meant she was forever in service to the people of the galaxy that needed her. She was chosen by the will of the Force; bestowed this great power that so many lusted after. In the galaxy’s biggest conflict, she could finally start making a difference. She could finally be worthy of the gift she was given.

“There’s gonna be a lot of clones in there, you know.” Anakin’s tongue-in-cheek remark broke her from her meditation. “You could always turn back and let me and Obi-Wan handle this.”

Jayla sniffed a laugh. “And let you have all the fun? I’m alright, Anakin, I promise.” She paused, took one glance up at her giant friend, and stood up. “I’m ready for this.”

Anakin smirked. “Well then, here we go.”

The vastness and buzzing energy of the bridge brought about a sensation that Jayla would never get tired of. There were clones on the lower levels punching buttons and pulling levers; there were clones standing around tables, going over strategy and making sure they were ready for the fight. Then there was Obi-Wan, standing in front of a star map and pretending to read it. His mind was occupied with other things.

Anakin nodded his head to Obi-Wan. “Master.”

“Ah, Anakin. And here I thought you’d show up late.”

“For Tiny’s first mission as a general? I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Is now really the best time to bring up nicknames?” Jayla groaned. It was times like these she was glad she was small; nobody could see her blush.

“I thought it’d help loosen the tension.”

“Sure you did.” She wasn’t going to admit it, but in his weird Skywalker way, it did help bring her back down to earth. This was her first mission as a military general. She outranked nearly everyone in the room. To the clones, that meant everything. Even if they didn’t want to listen to her… they had to.

It was then she noticed a tiny brown bag on the holotable below. Just poking out of the side was something that looked like armor.

Armor fit for a tiny.

She slid off Anakin’s shoulder and flipped down to the holotable. Obi-Wan couldn’t help but grin as she pulled out two shoulder pads, two wrist guards, a pair of black gloves and a torso pad. They fit perfectly.

“We couldn’t have you going out in the field unprepared,” Obi-Wan said as she practiced some stances in her new armor.

“Huh. You look like a tiny Obi-Wan,” Anakin smiled.

“I thought we were done with the degrading comments,” you said smugly.

“Oh, very funny, you two. It’s a wonder the council took this long to allow you both to work together.”

Jayla was prepared for another quip when the main door slid open. Her eyes first fell on the wide shoulder wing, then to the Jaig eyes painted on his helmet. She had never seen clone armor quite like what Rex was wearing. She blinked and straightened her posture.

“Captain Rex. Nice of you to finally join us,” Anakin joked.

“Sorry sir. Needed to help Fives find his other blaster.”

“He lost it again?”

“...more like misplaced,” Rex clarified.

“Good to see your troops are on top of things, Anakin,” Obi-Wan quipped.

“Sorry sir,” Rex repeated. Jayla could sense… unease. “So, where’s the new general?”

Anakin’s lips curled into a smile. He had told Rex that the 501st was to be accompanied on this mission by a Jedi knight who was a master of stealth. When Rex asked who it was, Anakin refused to say. He wanted it to be a surprise.

“Rex, I’d like you to meet Jedi General Jayla Nor’al.”

Rex was glad he had kept his helmet on, because the look of confusion on his face would not have done him any more favors.

“Uh… sir?” Rex asked cautiously, trying his best not to sound too lost. Is this some kind of joke?

“You know, I think it’s helpful to scan the entire room before saying something.”

Rex’s stomach dropped. That voice… that voice was coming from the holotable. Ever so slowly, he tilted his head down. He tried to keep his body language as neutral as possible, but he had a sinking feeling that all three Jedi in the room could sense his surprise.

“Oh,” was all Rex could utter for a moment. It was like this Jedi had stepped right out of a holoprojector and onto the table in front of him. This has to be some kind of test. She’s only a few inches tall! She won’t survive five seconds out on the battlefield.

Anakin cleared his throat. Rex snapped back to attention.

“Right. Uh, sorry about that, sir,” Rex fumbled, giving this General Nor’al a nod of acknowledgment. “Nice… nice to meet you.”

Rex tensed up when Jayla ever so slightly rolled her eyes. He was surprised he could even see her do that.

“Likewise, Captain. General Skywalker has told me all about you.” She smiled softly when she sensed Rex’s heartbeat escalating. “All good things, of course.”

She turned to Obi-Wan and, without either of them saying a word, Obi-Wan placed his hand next to Jayla and she casually stepped on, using his thumb for support as she was lifted up from the holotable.

“You’re going to be offering General Nor’al support in the field,” Obi-Wan said, tapping the holotable to life. “We’ve drawn up a plan to get her to the chief tactical droid stationed here to extract information and battle strategy.”

“I think we can finally turn the tide if we can get ahead of the Seps like they seem to keep getting ahead of us,” Jayla added. “Once I get the information, I’ll need an extraction team to get me out of there quickly.” Without warning, her tone shifted from stern to somber. “The last thing I need is to be caught by those stupid battle droids.”

Obi-Wan and Anakin exchanged a brief glance.

“I’ve got to finish some mission prep,” she said quickly. “When are we getting to Christophsis?”

“Should be there within the hour, sir,” Rex replied immediately.

“Great.” She tried to peer through Rex’s helmet, but unsurprisingly, she only had the downturned expression plastered on the front to work with. Rex was not expecting to see a five-inch-tall Jedi -- that much was obvious. Her worry lied more in the possibility that she was embarrassing him just by being here.

“I’m sure Anakin will become bored and come join us in, oh, five minutes or so,” Obi-Wan cut into her thoughts with a smug smile, throwing a glance to his friend as he walked out.

“For mission prep? You know me so well,” Anakin shot back with a smirk, turning back to the window.

Before Obi-Wan left the room, he turned to Rex, who was all but frozen to his spot.

“Do come and join us when you’re done here,” he said shortly. Rex could only nod.

Once the doors finally closed behind him, he stiffly made his way to Anakin’s side and took off his helmet.

“Rex…” Anakin sighed, already prepared for the conversation they were about to have.

“Sir, you know I mean no disrespect…” Rex paused to see if Anakin would say something witty to that. He didn’t. “...but I’m not sure how well my men are going to respond to taking orders from someone who can fit in the palm of their hand. Especially someone who hasn’t done this before.”

“Rex, she’s a Jedi knight, just like me. She wouldn’t have achieved that rank if she wasn’t fully capable.”

“I--I believe you, General. It’s just… well, they’re used to the way things work. We’re used to a Jedi leading us through battle.”

“And she can’t do that?”

“Well, it’s not like she can cut through clankers like you or General Kenobi.”

Anakin was prepared for this, but it still didn’t change the awkwardness of the conversation. He knew how fierce of a Jedi she was. Rex didn’t. He was hoping this mission could change things. He knew as well as anyone else that a warrior of her size would wreak havoc against the Separatists if used properly. Plus, he knew how painfully boring it was to be stuck inside the temple all the time. He wanted this to work for her.

“Her strengths lie in other areas. She doesn’t need to cut through droids like me and Obi-Wan,” Anakin said, putting his hand on Rex’s shoulder. “Given the world she’s grown up in… the things she’s had to overcome… I’d say she’s the bravest out of all of us.”

Rex hummed and turned his gaze to the front of the ship. He never really grew tired of the swirling brilliant blue of hyperspace. He found himself wondering if it looked any different five inches off the ground.

“...I should go brief the men,” Rex said finally.

“Yeah,” Anakin said, pursing his lips. “You probably should.”

#g/t #writing yoda is so fucking funny to me i laugh every time i try and reverse engineer a sentence for him #can you believe this is the first oc i've ever posted to the internet #it's so intimidating but i rlly hope yall enjoy!#writing star wars is so daunting to me but #i have so many ideas for one shots and things #so expect more soon :)#star wars g/t #giant/tiny

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emilycollins00 · 4 years ago

Note

hello! i've recently stumbled across your works and i really love your characterization and writing uwu if it's not too much, is it okay for me to request for a scenario where some actors accidentally found out that their director is actually good dancer? like maybe somebody was watching tv and 'hey doesn't that backup dancer look familiar?' ((you can decide on whoever finds out about it and you can also choose to use izumi's name or just write mc)) AAAA thank you very much! ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡

Thank you, dear! 💕 I feel so happy when I read I you guys like it. Sometimes it gets difficult to not fall into OOC!

I opted to choose Izumi, mainly because I don’t think I’ve written anything with her even though I love her so much! As for the actors, well, couldn’t decided wich one so everyone is making an appearance.

Hope you like it! 💕

The dorm discovering Izumi’s dancing skills

“Tenma, hurryyyyy”

“Yeah, yeah... Uh? Hey, who didn’t wash their dishes this morning, it stinks!” the summer leader complained outloud, leaving the kitchen with Misumi with the last chopsticks and glasses to place on the lounge.

Tsuzuru entered and looked at the sink, frowning. Indeed, it smelled awful. He walked towards the couches to get the culprit.

“Itaru-san, don’t ask me why, but I know whatever that was in that plate was yours. Please clean it right now”

“Oh shit, my shield fell”

The man in question was laying next to Kazunari and Banri, all of them most likely playing a battle game, judging by the way they were staring intensely at their phones.

“Itaru-san!”

“Yes, yes, one minute…”

“Dang, Itaroon! You can’t pull something like that to win, I don’t have any more resources!”

Omi put a hand on Tsuzuru’s shoulder when he saw the scriptwriter was about to start scolding them “It’s okay Tsuzuru, we have enough plates. Itaru-san can clean later so dinner doesn’t get cold”

At that moment Juza, Taichi, Muku and Sakuya arrived.

“Ah, Omi-san! After Tenma-kun and Misumi-san finish the table will be set” the cheerily the spring leader informed approaching them.

“At least we get things done quickly, having so many people at Mankai” Tsuzuru smiled tired but gratefully at the four of them “…although it would be quicker if others offered to help from time to time” he looked at the gaming group and a certain pair watching TV.

“Tsuzuru, this program is too important to sip!”

“You mean to skip? Also, I truly don’t think so. That’s one old program you’re watching” he looked around resting his hands on his hips. No one had moved an inch “That indirect was also to the rest of you, you know”

“Noted”

“Aha”

“So you want me to set the table instead of trying to come up for ideas with customes? Fine by me”

Misumi and Tenma entered before an argument could take place “Table’s set. Someone should call Masumi, Sakyo-san and the winter troupe. They were in the practice room with director, right?”

As if by pure summoning, the last spring member arrived, taking off his headphones “…I’m here”

“We are here too!” Tsumugi waved as the rest of the winter troupe entered talking to each other. Their play schedule had been decided and they had had a run through while Izumi and Sakyo discussed the final details for the performance.

“Okay then everyone, time to dig in!”

…………………………..

Everyone sat on their chairs and started moving plates around and refilling glasses with drinks. It wasn’t often, due to the difference in schedules, but some nights the whole dorm got together and opted to eat at the same time. It was a bit of a mess but in the end, everyone had fun.

Citron was still watching silently the TV when he paused it, concerned. Getting up, he headed to the dinner table as everyone ate and talked “Director?”

Izumi looked up, stopping herself from grabbing the delicious tonkatsu in front of her “You called, Citron? Ah, leave the TV and sit, come on. Omi’s food will get cold!” she motioned the chair that was empty.

He did as told, but kept his eyes locked on her “Director I must ask you an important question”

“Uh… ok?”

He nodded as his chopsticks grabbed some rice “Are you maybe a twist?”

Everyone turned to him, confused, but not surprised. The young woman found herself blinking in confusion too “…Twist?”

Masumi nodded in agreement “You can twist my heart anytime you want”

No one even tried to contradict the young boy, still trying to decipher Citron’s meaning.

“I don’t think Citron means twist”

“…Twix”

“Yeah Hyodo sure, Citron meant Twix. I swear your brain is a fucking sugar cube”

“You are sweet like a twix to me, director”

“Ugh, someone tell the Psycho Stalker off”

“Y-yuki-kun!”

“Citron, I don’t think your phrasing is right” Tsumugi laughed as he saw everyone starting to debate.

The foreigner crossed his arms, deep his thought “Mmm… this word is meant to be a clone… of another person! Is it close enough, Tsumugi?”

“C-clone?!” Taichi looked up from his seat, eyes wide open “Director has a clone?!”

“Guys, come on...”

“Mhm… I might be wrong, but maybe Citron meant if our dear director has a twin?”

Citron gasped “Twin, yes! Azuma’s wisdom is as always precise!”

The winter member received the compliment from the blond with a soft laugh as the rest frowned. Sakuya raised his hand from the other side of the table “U-Um! Why do you say that, Citron-san?”

“You have sisters?” Tasuku raised his eyebrows at Izumi.

“Of course not! I’m an only child”

“But that cannot be. I saw you with my two very eyes!”

“Me?”

He nodded seriously, getting up from the chair and turning on the TV again “I will demonstrate now, the director’s clone!”

Izumi sighed. Why couldn’t they have a normal night? Just for once. It was weekday for christ’s sake. The sudden gasps and exclamations brought her back to reality.

“It really looks like Izumi-san!”

“She looks younger though, is it really her?”

“Waaah, director you are moving so beautifully!”

“Wait, seriously?”

Izumi got up and approached the TV screen, concerned for the amount of attention it was getting “Come on, how can I-“

“That is you, isn’t it?” Sakyo pointed the TV with his head.

As everyone came to the realization that it was indeed Izumi. the woman in question stood there, watching her younger self.

“Oh, you meant that!” she sat on the arm of the couch, forgetting dinner and the fact that everybody was still trying to make sense of it. Their director? In TV? “It’s not been that long but... ” she laughed “Might be the one and only time I made it for a play in a performance, come to think of it!”

Kazunari, who was at that point recording the whole situation, turned his phone towards her in awe “I am beyond SHOCK, director! What play? How come we didn’t know you danced so well? Any declarations?”

She pushed the phone away from her, laughing “I did my studies and entered in the dancing club from my university for a change of peace”

“But this amazing choreography? The moves? Not to mention you are totes on TV!”

She looked back at the TV and a smiled appeared. Competing in friendly dancing competitions had been nice at the time “That program shows musicals, right? My university dancing club just happened to want to enter the competition and we decided to do a mute dancing play trying to tell a story without speaking. Forgot it had been recorded then”

Everyone stopped talking and looked at each other.

“…Oh”

“That’s right”

“Director had another life before Mankai…”

“Feels weird to think about it”

Izumi blinked confused. Of course, she had tried to make a life outside of acting! It had been rough, but she had had to come to terms with herself that she had to move on, at the time.

“Ey, ey, director let’s dance too!” Misumi grabbed her by the arm and pulled her to the courtyard. She found herself stumbling to keep up.

“W-whoah, Misumi-kun, we haven’t finished eating!”

He laughed releasing her as he tried to copy what they all had watched “That looked fun! What other dances did you do?”

Izumi laughed at his excitment.

“Well, there was nothing specific…?” she listed a few songs on the top of her head. The rest of the dorm gathered around the frames of the courtyard, watching curiously.

“I also want to see director’s dancing!”

“Anyone has a phone?”

“On it~”

“Enough! Why are you…” Sakyo came out too, ready to start scolding when one of the songs mentioned before started playing and saw Izumi’s bright face.

It was as if some kind of adrenaline had been injected into her, enough to make her body start moving along the music, not a single movement being wasted.

It had been a while.

………………………………

“Oh my, such a stunning view… the turning of grand jetes! If this moment was to be engraved…”

Hisoka frowned next to him “Arisu… you’re too loud. Can’t enjoy it”

“Director… is really good!” Sakuya was practically beaming as he watched Izumi moving around “She looks like a fairy!”

No one there disagreed. Her movements flowed, taking away the breath of every person in that familiar audience. Izumi had never been able to act well, but somehow her dancing expressed more than she could in a play.

Omi smiled at the view and crossed his arms “A pity I left the camera in my room” he looked at his left and saw how Sakyo looked at her.

The blond’s eyes followed her figure entranced, not moving an inch.

A few minutes later, Izumi stopped, breathing heavily after song. She looked up, greeted by a big amount of applause. Were those claps for her? Her cheeks grew hot. She didn’t remember last time she got an applause and smiled bashfully.

“Fufu that was wonderful, Izumi-san”

“Epic. I think I just fell in love all over again, director! Gonna need to post the clip on my instablam!”

“Not bad. I guess currian has another thing she’s good at, uh”

“Well, if we ever have a dancing play, now we know who to ask for notes, isn’t that right, Tsuzuru?”

Taichi gasped in excitement looking at the scriptwriter “Oh man, I definitely want to do a dancing play now, girls would love it!”

Of course, as theatre fanatics as they were, the conversation headed into their future performances.

“Maybe like a musical?”

“But dancing as you act is…”

“I want to do a triangle dance in our play!”

Izumi laughed, gaining everyone’s attention “Okay, okay, this is enough. Let’s go back and finish dinner. Can’t believe you all tricked me to dance in front of you, geez” she still felt her breath uneven from the workout.

“But you did look beautiful out there, director” Tsumugi smiled as he pushed a complaining Taichi and entranced Masumi inside.

Tasuku sighed as he watched everyone returning to their normal behaviors “Well, I guess we must thank you are more an acting addict than a dancer” he sent a small smile to Izumi, placing a hand on her shoulder and going inside to help the adults tame the youngest.

Izumi was about to follow when she heard Sakyo’s voice from behind “You danced well”

“Ah, Sakyo-san, thanks”

He dropped his eyes momentarily before looking at everyone going back to finish dinner inside “…Think you will miss it? Dancing like that”

Izumi lifted her head up and closed her eyes, enjoying the night’s breeze. She had set it aside for so long she hadn’t really been able to think about it.

Dancing to her was like turning back the clock, returning to a previous life that might have been good. However, she had always felt something was missing.

She smiled tenderly. Just thinking about everyone at the dorm made her heart go warm.

“It’s become a good memory to keep”

She tore her gaze away from the night sky to smile at him, assuring him that she was being honest to those words just said.

True. She had loved dancing, but theatre? Ah.

That was her life.

_________________________________________________________

I enjoyed it a lot, hopefully, you guys did too. Have a wonderful day! 💕

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lurking-umbra · 4 years ago

Text

Break a Few Eggs

Peter cannot cook to save his life. Jet is proficient at cooking and someone needs to teach Peter how to cook without burning down the ship.

Jet was unsure of how the thief had managed to set nearly the entire kitchen of the Carte Blanche on fire just by attempting to make toast, but considering that this was not the first time he had done so, they were a little better prepared. Jet picked up the fire extinguisher kept by the door for this very purpose as he entered the room, easily aiming and activating it at the lit toaster.

"I cannot help but wonder how many times you will set toasters on fire until you master the concept of pressing a lever," Jet said, turning to raise an eyebrow in Peter's direction as the thief stared at the smoldering remains.

Peter turned to Jet as if only just now seeing him, a fake smile plastered across his face. "Oh Jet! Good morning! I must have zoned out for a bit."

Jet stared long and hard between Peter and the toaster before putting the fire extinguisher down and heading to the refrigerator with a sigh. "If no one else has seen fit to teach you how to cook before now, I suppose that job will fall on me for now."

He pulled out the container of cloned eggs, milk, shredded cheese, and some butter. He placed them on the counter and turned to look at Peter who was watching him like he was holding something far more threatening than the materials to make breakfast. "This morning I will teach you how to make scrambled eggs. And you will burn neither them, nor anything else in the kitchen," Jet directed.

Peter continued to watch him closely for a long moment before tentatively moving to stand in front of the counterspace next to him. He opened the container of eggs and grabbed one before staring at it.

Jet very valiantly suppressed a sigh and turned to grab a bowl from the cabinet. He placed it in front of Peter with a solid thunk before grabbing an egg of his own. Jet gently tapped the egg on the side of the bowl, cracking it slightly before centering over the bowl and using his fingers to open it fully, allowing the contents to fall into the bowl. "You will start with two eggs, as we are not in a position to be wasting all of our supplies and I do not trust you with more than that. When cracking the egg, you need to use enough force to break the shell, but not so much that you open it outside of the bowl."

Jet gestured for Peter to do so, calmly blinking when Peter smacked the egg onto the side and the whites started to drain out. He smiled sheepishly in Jet's direction as he moved the egg over the center of the bowl and opened it further, managing to get most of it into the bowl without adding any of the shell. "I suppose I ought to use less force next time," Peter commented, half to himself.

Jet demonstrated how to scramble the eggs with a fork, nodding when Peter got the hang of it, creating an appropriately bubbly mixture. When that was done, Jet moved to hand Peter the milk and a measuring cup. "You will need three quarter cups for every two eggs." Peter poured some milk into the measuring cup and leaned closer to read the marks. "Remember that you need to measure--"

"From the meniscus, yes, yes, I know that much," Peter said, cutting him off with a flap of his hand as he added another bit of milk before he was satisfied and poured it into the bowl.

Jet told Peter how to appropriately season the eggs with salt, pepper, and minced garlic, throwing in some chopped onions and scallions as well. Peter's knife skills applied well to the various chopping, as soon as he was told how to cut each food. Peter then added the shredded cheese before whisking the egg mixture once more as Jet grabbed a frying pan and set it on the stove eye.

"Now this next part involves heat, and so I must impress upon you the importance of caution," Jet said as he offered a plastic spatula to him. Peter took it delicately and looked over at the pan.

"First you must melt some butter and ensure it has been thoroughly coated," Jet began, watching carefully as Peter turned on the eye and melted the butter, tilting the pan carefully as Jet showed him to completely coat the pan. He then poured in the egg mixture, scraping the sides as the eggs cooked. When Jet declared them done, Peter turned off the eye and slid the scrambled eggs onto a plate, eyeing them carefully as if confused by them.

Jet left him to his staring contest and turned to the rest of the eggs, intent on making some for the time when the rest of the crew awoke. Jet was in the middle of cooking the next batch when Peter finally deigned to taste the fruits of his labor. Jet felt the smallest of smirks on his lips at the sound of delight Peter made upon his first bite. He probably still couldn't use the toaster, but at least he had this one meal in his repertoire now, assuming Peter was capable of replicating it. He was a quick study.

#the penumbra podcast #fanfiction #peter nureyev #jet siquliak

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evabellasworld · 3 years ago

Text

Storm of the Republic

Chapter 2

AO3 Link | 1 | 2

——————————————————————————————

Summary: When Tup murdered General Tiplar during a battle, Anakin Skywalker and Captain Rex dispatched Ahsoka, Fives, and Yara to solve the mystery that was plaguing the Clone Army. Meanwhile, Senator Padme Amidala contacted Commander Fox, Commander Tori, Riyo Chuchi, and Dipper to help her continue investigating the death of Palpatine, suspecting that Dooku was behind the evil plot. But when Dooku send an ISB agent to stop them, the team had to race against time to search for the truth, which could alter the course of the galaxy.

————————————————————————————

Facing the wide window, Emperor Dooku gazed at the Coruscanti skyscraper, holding a file in his hands. He gazed at the white, puffy clouds floating in the azure sky as he watched the traffic flowing smoothly, taking a mental note of every hovering vehicle. The old man noticed the Jedi Temple from afar, which was left in ruins.

The scenery of the city was like how he remembered when he was first brought to the metropolis planet, where he trained to be a valiant Jedi from a young age. Dooku’s first training from Master Yoda was meditation practice, where he learned to detach himself from his physical surroundings. It wasn’t as easy as it seems, but after a few attempts, he was beaming with pride and joy towards his own success.

When Master Yoda knighted him, he experienced the same emotions he felt as a youngling after going through the challenging trials and errors he endured. Dooku could also say the same for his late apprentice, Qui-Gon Jinn, who was the apple of his eye.

The Emperor recalled the day when a 12-year-old boy with dark brown hair was assigned to him. Qui-Gon was shy and was anxious about failing his master, but Dooku wasn’t upset. Rather, he was impressed that his Padawan admitted his flaws. Not everyone has the guts to reveal their vulnerabilities, and from there, he took Qui-Gon to explore the Temple.

He was a curious boy, Dooku smiled fondly, as he glanced at the photograph of him standing underneath a cherry blossom tree. He even saw some similarities with Qui-Gon’s apprentice, Obi-Wan Kenobi. Qui-Gon spoke highly about him a couple of times. At one point, Dooku even persuaded Obi-Wan to join him and defeat the Sith, but was disheartened when the Jedi Master refused his offer.

Turning to his desk, Dooku picked up another file. Only this time, it was related to two missing Jedi Knights. According to an investigation by Agent Starros, Ava Lira and Eva Bella Young were born in Chandrila to a single mother, Kaia Young. At the age of 3, they were taken to the Jedi Temple, and the rest, as they say, was history. Based on their appearances, the identical twins resemble their mother, despite their red hair and blue-green eyes.

Six months ago, the Jedi Order reported them missing after they did not turn up, and the Nurin alert was placed in order to search for them. Though there was a lead, the trail went cold and until today; they were nowhere to be found.

They don’t deserve to die, he frowned at the twins’ photograph when he heard the door hissed open. A light purple woman with chestnut hair and facial markings entered his office, bowing at him with utmost respect. “You summoned me, my Lord?”

“Yes, Agent Doherty,” he greeted cordially. “You may take a seat, please. I would like to discuss the progress of your mission so far.”

“Yes, my Lord,” Lenora answered politely as she sat down and placed her datapad on his wooden desk. “I have a list of senators I have monitored so far. Would you like to have a look?”

“That would be lovely, Agent Doherty,” he agreed as he picked up the datapad, skimming through the list of senators that sided with the Galactic Republic. Though he barely knows all of them, there were a few individuals that stood out, particularly the ones closer to the late Chancellor.

They were Senator Padmé Amidala of Naboo, Senator Bail Organa of Alderaan, Senator Mon Mothma of Chandrila, and former Senator Riyo Chuchi of Pantora. These were the politicians that were vocal in the Senate, particularly about the ongoing war they’re facing.

Senator Amidala was close confidant with Chancellor Palpatine. They knew each other decades ago, when she was still Queen of Naboo. She was most critical about the Clone Wars and even tried to end the conflict with one of the Separatist senators, before the latter was killed. Despite her background in politics, however, she was also skilled in combat.

Senator Organa was also her closest ally, along with Senator Mothma and Senator Chuchi. His home planet, Alderaan, was the most peaceful in the galaxy, and like her, he also advocated for the war to end, which didn’t come as a surprise to the Emperor.

Placing the last three names on a list, Dooku then shifted his focus towards Riyo Chuchi, who was formerly a Senator of Pantora. She was part of the Republic Senate for almost three years, before the Imperial Security Bureau labeled her as a traitor. “Agent Doherty,” he spoke, showing his interest towards the young politician. “What can you tell me about your findings on Senator Chuchi?”

“Senator Chuchi was responsible for the death of Agent Starros and fled Coruscant 6 months ago,” Lenora explained to him. “She had help from clone units CC-1010, CC-6231, and CT-1512, who were part of the traitorous Republic remnants’ army. If it weren't for Agent Starros, they would have been captured by now.”

“I’m impressed that you outdid your former mentor,” Dooku lifted his chin up. “I find Agent Starros rather emotional for my taste. I’m sure you shared my sentiment towards her, considering what she had put you through.”

Lenora bobbed her head as she recalled the torture Agent Starros had committed in the past, making her fist clenched. “I’m glad she’s dead, my Lord. She had sociopathic tendencies and was prone to emotional outburst when things didn’t go her way. It’s rather unprofessional, if you ask me.”

“And that is something we do not tolerate in our government,” he returned her datapad, along with the files related to the Chancellor’s death. “Take these back to the late Chancellor’s residence, please. It is much safer there.”

“Yes, my Lord,” she bowed, acknowledging his orders.

“And keep a vigilant eye on Senator Amidala and her latchkeys,” added Dooku. “We must let no one bring down our government, just like how the Jedi did with the Chancellor.”

“I understand, my Lord,” the ISB agent approved as she walked out of the room and stepped inside the lift, releasing her breath. That wasn’t so bad, she wiped her forehead. I’m so glad the Emperor wasn’t as bad as he seemed.

Lenora recollected the day the Republic Intelligence was dispatched to handle the case of Palpatine’s murder. Dina Starros was in charge of the case, much to her envy. She used to pour a bucket of ice-cold water on Lenora whenever she failed, and forced her to sleep outside her dorm. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, she begged. I’ll do better next time, I promise.

Thinking about it made her shiver in fright as she pictured herself in a warm, secluded desert, which soothes her. Still clinging on her datapad and files, Lenora stared at the panels when the lift door opened, revealing a familiar face she saw from her datapad. “Good morning, senator,” she chirped, catching her by surprise. “How delightful to see you here.”

“Good morning, Agent Doherty,” Padmé replied in a nervous tone. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Oh, the Emperor summoned me. He wanted to know more about my progress. You know how meticulous he can be.”

“Of course he would,” Padme raised her eyebrows as the lift door was shut, leaving her at mercy with the ISB agent. Out of all people, why must I run into her?

“Is everything okay, senator?” Lenora inquired, noticing her fidgeting. “You seemed tense.”

The Senator of Naboo shook her head and cleared her throat. “Everything is alright, agent. I was just thinking about the next Senate debate, that’s all.”

“That wouldn’t be a problem, given that you are one of the best politicians we have right now. Besides, I trust you’ll do great later on.”

“Thank you, Agent Doherty,” she coaxed. “You must feel honoured to receive a mission. It’s not easy to get special attention from the Emperor himself, you know.”

How smart of her to say such a thing, Lenora bemused as she turned to her, crossing her fingers behind her back. “I wouldn’t call it special attention, really. He only told me to monitor the rest of the senators and put those files back at Palpatine’s residence, that’s all.”

Padmé’s eyes widened when her plan worked, prompting her to sneak a quick glimpse at the datapad and the files she was carrying. “What’s so important about the files that it needed to be kept at the late Chancellor’s house, anyway?”

“It’s a case file relating to his death,” Lenora spilled the truth. “Every piece of evidence that we’ve collected from the investigations is recorded here. That way, it’s easier for us to keep track of our progress. Impressive, isn’t it?”

If I could get my hands on them, I could finally reveal the truth behind Palpatine’s death to the Senate. “It is, actually. I bet there must be a lot of guards outside his house.”

The agent shook her head. “We only placed sensors by the door. The Emperor finds it a waste of resources to dispatch a couple of guards outside. Besides, I doubt anyone is going to break in.”

I’ll risk my life for that file. “That makes a lot of sense.”

Stopping at the 47th floor, Padmé sighed in relief as she stepped out the lift, grinning at Lenora. “I wish I could go on with our conversations, but I have important matters to deal with.”

“I understand, senator,” she maintained her smile. “Have a wonderful day.”

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eleanor-devil · 3 years ago

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Boruto: Sacrifices [Remade] | Chap.19 - The Gokage Meeting

Written by: Eleanor-Devil & @mirage-05

The trip to Konoha had been silent for most of the time, at least between Natsumi, her father and her uncle. Both the adult men talked with each other from time to time. She was just ten but Natsumi grew up to be a perceptive girl and she could see how tense her uncle and father were... Were they holding back something because of her presence? Or was it the meeting with the Hokage? Making up her mind to find out, she stood up from her seat. "I'm going to the bathroom, I'll be right back." She received just a simple nod from the two men. As soon as she got out of the bathroom, though, the young girl stopped and made sure no one was looking closely. Then she brought her hands together and whispered, "Bunshin no Jutsu."

Immediately, a clone of herself materialized next to her. "Alright..." Natsumi said to the clone, feeling a little awkward. "I'm gonna hide somewhere close and listen to their conversation. You will be my decoy if they came out looking for me." Although for how long was she going to be able to keep this... she didn't know. Besides her uncle being a sensor type, both he and her father were skilled ninjas and they could detect her at any moment. Climbing through the air tubes of the train, Natsumi tried to hide her presence the best she could (however she was not very good at it, yet). Once she reached the place above her uncle and father, the pink haired girl tried to listen to the conversation. "How bad is the situation?" she heard her father ask. "...Not good it seems, if we're not careful there can be more attempts like this." Gaara answered. "They managed to control the situation?" "They did, but it seems it was thanks to a genin who is close friends to Naruto's son." There was a small pause. "A genin...?" Natsumi heard her father's doubtful tone, but for some reason... she was having difficulty concentrating on the conversation as a whole. Her mind was reeling... a close friend of the Hokage's son...? Her uncle was silent once again and so Kankuro continued to wonder aloud. "But... how could a genin affect such a matter?" "I don't know all the details," Gaara admitted. "But perhaps it's not too... wise to speak about it in front of Natsumi. From what I gathered, it's not a pretty case." Kankuro followed his brother's gaze before returning to look at him. He sighed. "So it is more complicated than it seems." Gaara just nodded and Natsumi, finally snapping out of her thoughts but not entirely with her mind at ease, decided that it was time to go back to them before they started suspecting. A few minutes later the girl was back in the company of the two adults. Silence had gone back reigning the place and Natsumi was on her knees staring outside the window. Who was Boruto's friend that had gotten involved in this apparently serious case...? Before she knew it, the train entered the Konoha station and slowed down to a stop. The girl was barely containing her anxiety, literally rocking up and down on her heels. When they got out with the escort of her uncle's bodyguards, into the safety of the leaf village, she turned to look at her father. "Is it okay if I go ahead to aunt Temari's?" she was dying to know more about this situation, and she knew Shikadai would help her on the matter. Kankuro raised an eyebrow before sighing and smiling. He ruffled his daughter's hair before pushing her forward a little. "Go ahead, we won't go there for a while." Natsumi nodded and ran off towards the Nara household. "Aunt Temari! Are you home??" said the girl as she opened the door and kicked off her shoes. She looked forward and saw a blonde head peeking outside the kitchen. And in a moment, a smile broke into the woman's features. "Karura, Shikadai! Look who is in for a surprise!" she called out before wiping her hands to the apron she was wearing. In the next moment, Natsumi had charged in for a tight hug, which made the woman giggle as she returned the hug and put a hand on her niece's hair. "I didn't know you would be coming too." she said lightly, drawing back a little to get a good look at her. "Oh my, you have grown quite a bit." Natsumi giggled and gasped in surprise when she felt a pair of arms wrapping around her, lifting her slightly from the floor. "How's my cousin doing??" Karura asked as she put her down. Despite being the same age as Natsumi, Karura was taller than the pink haired girl. Natsumi smiled and hugged her back. "I'm doing great!" She looked at the stairs when she heard the lazy dragging of Shikadai's feet. With his hands in his pockets, the green eyed boy wore his typical lazy expression despite not having seen his cousin in a while. "Oh, hey." Temari put her hands on her hips. "Greet her properly!" "Too troublesome." "Shikadai..." "She knows what I mean, mom!" "Shikadai!" Rolling his eyes, the young boy did a mock, dramatic bow, the end of his ponytail almost touching the floor. "Welcome to the Nara residence, your highness. What can I do for you?" His theatricals caused both Natsumi and Karura to burst in laughter while Temari just huffed, shaking her head. "What am I going to do with you..." Karura took the chance to grin at her older brother and say, "...well, you can start by taking your highness's bag to her room." Shikadai rolled his eyes as he stood up. "Don't push it." he eyed Natsumi. "What brings you here? I thought only uncles were coming..." "I... might have sneaked onto the train...?" she answered with an innocent smile. [Flashback] "Natsumi sweetie, I need your..." Naomi came to a sudden stop as she entered her oldest daughter's room, while the young girl turned slowly to her with a sheepish expression. There was an awkward moment of silence. "Okay..." Naomi said, raising an eyebrow, clearly amused. "What is going on here?" "I, um..." the girl said, carefully drawing her right leg, which was out of the window already, back. "I... can explain?" she said with a sheepish, almost too innocent grin. "I'm sure you can." her mother said, putting a hand on her hip, the corners of her mouth twitched as if she was trying to suppress a smile. "Spill." "I heard that dad and uncle are going to Konoha..." Natsumi said. "And I... want to go with them. I packed my things last night." she said defiantly. "And does your father or your uncle know about your decision?" "Well... nope." Naomi brought her other hand to her chest almost dramatically, her eyes going wide. "Natsumi, I'm shocked! You plan to sneak onto that train..." "Yeah, but..." "Knowing that they leave for an important meeting..." "I know mom, but..." "And above all else..." Finally, the woman broke into a grin. "Trying to sneak out on me, like I would do anything to stop you!" Her daughter gaped at her. "You won't?" "Oh, dear, I thought you know me better than that." Naomi said with a chuckle. "Now, go on already. I believe the train will leave in fifteen minutes." [End of Flashback] The hall was filled with laughter. "I just missed you guys and Konoha." Natsumi finished her story with a big grin. But to her surprise... Her cousins didn't say anything else on that note, and Shikadai flung her bag around his shoulder before turning on his heels. "That’s cool." he said almost too nonchalantly, which made the pink haired kunoichi frown a little, something was definitely off... She waited until they reached her room before finally putting her card on the table. "Shikadai... I heard that... whatever happened that made uncle come here involved one of Boruto's close friends... who is it...?" Shikadai didn't face her and didn't tense up... like he already expected her to ask it. He dropped the bag on the bed. "It's nothing you should concern your little head at." "I'm not a kid anym-" "Shikadai," his sister started. "I think she should know." "No, she doesn't." "The village is big but not big enough to keep that from her, sooner or later she will find out and I would rather she finds out through us!" Their words were triggering something... something akin to physical pain... why would Dai try to hide it from her... unless it was someone she knew well... and it was indeed... very serious... "Dai... please..." the slight tremble in her tone was what finally made her cousin to turn to look at her. "Just... tell me...?" Karura nervously glanced at her brother, who sighed. "We... don't know the recent development in his condition..." he tried to mollycoddle it, but it was a feeble attempt. Catching the 'his' in the sentence easily, Natsumi felt like her heart skipped a beat. Shikadai sighed once more before dropping the bomb. "It's Mitsuki..." And her heart sank deeper than a sinking ship in a storm... her eyes widened and her hands quickly rushed to her chest. She found it hard to breath for a moment. Seeing that, Karura wrapped an arm around her cousin. "What... what happened...?" "We..." Karura started. "Well, I... don't know the details... just that some people tried to attack the village and... Mitsuki tried to stop them and got hurt..." "Tried to st... all by himself...?" her voice had turned weak, fading off at the end. The Nara siblings didn't say anything to that, but neither of them was making eye contact with her by this point. "B- but why...? How...?!" her voice rose up again, against the injustice she felt in those words. Shikadai sank down onto the bed, clasping his hands in front of him, his gaze still on the floor. "Because of some stupid, stuck-up people who thought it was a good idea to bully someone over something he can't control." was his mumbled response. "B-bully...? He... he was... being bullied...? By who?!" Karura sighed. "Some stupid kids... because of his origins." "But that's not fair!" the blonde gripped her cousin's shoulder harder. "We know... i-it's not clear but... some rumors say he did it to prove that he is part of this village as we are. Others... just say that... he was working with them and was betrayed..." At that Natsumi snapped as tears formed in her eyes. "No! I refuse to believe that! That's not the Mitsuki I know! He cares for this village, he wouldn't betray Konoha! That... that's not true... he... t-that's nothing like the boy I know... the same boy that helped me heal my ankle and didn't even get angry despite having been crushed by me..." "We know, Natsumi," Shikadai said in almost a resigned tone. "We never believed in those stupid type of rumors, either. I can’t, not with what I..." He didn't finish his sentence but the implication behind it made the tears flow down the young girl's eyes. Sacrificing himself for the safety of people he loves, even after what he had been through... that just felt so much like Mitsuki... Her fingers tightened over the fabric of her outfit, over her heart, as if she was trying to hold it in place. Karura rubbed her cousin's shoulders, knowing that her anxiety could take over her easily when she was distressed like this. "I want... I want to visit him..." both siblings looked at her. "I have to... he's... he's at the hospital right...?" Shikadai didn't meet her eyes. "Natsumi... you might not be prepared for this, he's in a coma right now... are you sure you want to see him like that...?" He sure as hell hadn’t been prepared to witness the worst of it, and he was two years older than Natsumi. Coma... good God... More tears threatened to fall, but her determination made the young girl close her eyes in an attempt to stop them. The look in her eyes left no doubt. "Yes. Y-you said he was b-bullied, right?" She lifted her head to look into her cousin's eyes. "Then at least we could... no, we should let him know that he is not alone." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Never alone." Finally, the green eyes met hers, and the Nara understood that his cousin was not going to give up... no matter what she would see. He nodded as he slowly got up. "Alright... I will take you to the hospital." ... It was indeed a very busy day in Konohagakure, and it didn't really have much to do with the Gokage meeting that was going to take place in a short while. Many voices could be heard, some angry, some calm but with a strong determination, but all discussing one matter that needed to be addressed. "What do you mean, you won't permit our children to go on missions?!" one of the Hyuuga asked, his tone practically enraged. "Be glad that they get to get away with this kind of punishment," Hanabi said calmly, meeting the man's gaze with a level look. "Under these circumstances, I should have given a harsher punishment." "This is already harsh enough!" another parent spoke up. "No missions means no money. He is the only one bringing home money! Lady Hanabi, you know what we had been through since my husband died at the fourth world war!" "I'm sorry, Akemi," Hanabi kept her voice determined but the look in her eyes had softened just a little. "But you should bring that matter up to your son. He should've thought before ganging up on a poor boy who is equally alone in Konoha." That was met with more protesting voices. "What did they do to warrant such a punishment?! They are only children, any children can go a little far with their pranks!" "We don't even know the true intentions of the 'poor boy' as you call him!" That was the last straw. When Hanabi's impatient and harsh tone was next heard, no one dared to speak again. "Intentions, right now, are irrelevant! Although allow me to say I believe Mitsuki has more of a backbone than any of you do! So for goodness's sake, stop pushing this matter over the edge already and consider this punishment as a token of my goodwill!" There was only silence now following her words. Satisfied, Hanabi continued. "As is decided by the leaders of all the clans involved, the children are required to attend counseling sessions. Moreover, there will be mandatory community service, the details of which will be specified shortly. That is all for today. You may continue with your daily affairs." As the crowd dispersed slowly, the young woman turned to one of the few remaining around her. "Follow every family and report back to me if there is anyone disobeying. If they do... next time, there will be fines involved." ... "I... I'm not sure if I understand you...?" "We would like you to claim the leadership of the Sarutobi." It took Konohamaru another moment to snap out of his surprised state. He cleared his throat. "Yes, but... even when Kichiro is sacked..." "Ichiro is still too young to take the position." one of the elders in front of him said, a serious look on his face. "That, and his compliance with his grandfather's decisions... make him an ineligible leader." "Which is another thing we would like to talk to you about," said the other elder. "If you find this suitable... we would like Ichiro to be supervised by you... A tutor of sorts, someone we can rely on to make sure he is well-mannered and experienced before he takes the leadership seat." "After all... who would be better than the grandson of the third, an excellent ninja himself?" The brunet's facial expression remained the same, still doubtful. "You're giving me too much credit." "And you are giving yourself too less credit. In any case, if you need help... you should know that all of the elders had conceded to your leadership." "All of them?" he asked, now genuinely baffled. It was extremely rare... almost unheard of that the elders of any clan, lest Sarutobi, to collectively agree upon something. "Yes, indeed. There is just one problem now, as you can imagine..." ... "I will never accept your leadership! The rightful head is still my grandfather!" There was nothing but insatiable fury and disgust in the teenager's eyes as he gazed up at Konohamaru, fists balled, teeth gritted. The young man stood his ground and said nothing, as the elder beside him spoke in a cool manner. "You have no choice in the matter. Your grandfather was relieved of his position because of how poorly he led the Sarutobi, endangering not only the clan but the village too. When you are of age, and if you are fit to be the leader by then... you will acquire the title. Until then our new leader is Konohamaru-san, and he will also be your tutor." "I don't give two shits about what you old farts think! My grandfather dedicated his whole life to this clan and this is how you thank him?! By just... just replacing him like he was nothing, only because that man is the Third Hokage's grandson?!" "If you still believe that is the only reason behind this decision..." the other elder said, frowning slightly. "this only proves our point that you are not yet ready." "You know what, I'm not gonna stay here to listen to your bullcrap!" With that, the young boy turned his back to them, ready to go. "Ichiro." Konohamaru then spoke, in a calm but firm tone. It was clear that Ichiro was almost going to act as if he didn't hear him... but he stopped nonetheless. "I expect you to report to me first thing tomorrow morning." Slowly, the teen's hands balled into fists once again, and he was visibly shaking, although most likely from anger. After a moment, he turned his head to glare daggers at the young man and then stormed out of the door, slamming it shut behind him. The elder to his left sighed, shutting his eyes before shaking his head. "What are we going to do with this child...?" Konohamaru sighed too, his eyes still on the closed door. "Well... at least he didn't say no to the last part." ... The small terrace on the Hokage building was seeing one of its busiest times. The Gokage meeting was just about to start, and the kages from four of the five main villages had taken their seats with their bodyguards standing around them. They were talking to each other in hushed voices, clearly curious, until a cough cut into the murmurs. "First of all, I would like to welcome all of you to Konoha and thank you for heeding to the call." Naruto began seriously. "As we don't know the scale and scope of the threat yet, we found it necessary to hold this meeting." There was a brief pause. "Five days ago, Konoha faced an attempted attack by two rogue cloud ninjas and survivors from the sound village. The attack was averted thanks to a..." Naruto once again hesitated before moving on, even though this much time had passed, it was still a delicate subject. "...thanks to a genin who fought the rogue nins by himself." Confused murmurs surrounded the room, and Kurotsuchi spoke up, a doubtful tone in her voice. "A genin? Surely you're not gonna tell us he was sent on a mission?" "Of course not." The Hokage's voice was terse. "I would trust your judgment that none among us here would allow such a mission." The Tsuchikage didn't say anything to that. "No, he had left the village..." "Left?" this came from Chojuro, and the tone in his voice made it clear what he was asking. "On my knowledge." Naruto sighed. "I believe I must make it clearer... The child chose to leave because of a misunderstanding and its consequences..." "The thing here is, Naruto," the Mizukage continued, leaning a little forward and putting his arms on the table. "We are not particularly interested in why he left... We're more interested in..." "...whether it's treason or not, leaving the village as a ninja is still a pretty dangerous move." Kurotsuchi finished. "I assure you, this matter is not of utmost importance to our current topic." the blond said, in a tone that ended the debate. Gaara's eyes flickered for a moment to his friend, he was sure there was more to the story, but this wasn't the place to bring that up. "All of the culprits are captured or otherwise taken care of. During the investigation of the sound ninjas, however... that's when we came across something troubling." At that point the Hokage, too, put his arms on the table and leaned forward a little, looking at each of the kages in the eye. "The prisoners confessed that their aim was to pull an assassination attempt against me and to throw Konoha into chaos." And once again, murmurings started. Naruto waited patiently for a moment for the voices to die down before speaking again. "It is not yet clear whether this will imply a bigger plot... but it is apparent that their grand aim was to disturb the peace era in general. As the attempt in Kirigakure was meant to do as well." "Of course... what better way than to kill the person who was the harbinger of the peace?" Darui said, straightening himself slightly in his seat. "You sound like you expect things to take an ugly turn..." Gaara said with a serious look. "Does that mean we should prepare ourselves for war?" The anticipation was perfectly tangible in the atmosphere now, it was apparently a question on everyone's mind. "It might be too early for that," the Hokage admitted. "We still have quite a few pieces of the puzzle missing. But in any case..." His gaze flickered to Gaara, too. "It's best to be on our guard." Chojuro was scratching his chin thoughtfully. "The Sound... correct me if I'm wrong but wasn't that the village one of your S-classed missing nins formed? Sounds to me a bit more like it can be a personal vendetta..." The blond man nodded. "That's why I say there's no need for rash actions, we don't know the nature of their plans... in any case, Konoha will be on the lookout for the Sound from now on, because it's true, it's primarily our own concern." "I didn't mean it like that..." the Mizukage began, but Naruto cut in with a weary smile. "It's alright, I know... But, forgive me for being bold, I believe it will be downright foolish not to take your own precautions." There were nods and agreeing mumbles. Everyone became a bit relaxed as the meeting came to an informal end and started talking among themselves. Gaara approached Naruto, Kankuro close behind. "Naruto, can I have a moment?" "Sure." With that, the three walked out of the terrace, back into the office building. "What is it?" "I believe there is more to the story than you let us know..." ... Natsumi hesitated a while before entering Mitsuki's room. She didn't know why she was so afraid... was it the fact that she didn't want to see him in that state...? Sighing, the pink haired girl opened the door and took the first peek inside. What she saw made her bring her hands to her mouth as a gasp got out of her lips, her eyes going wide... She tried to take in a few more breaths but it was becoming a hard job... She tentatively took a few steps into the room, and came to a stop. This... almost didn't look like the Mitsuki she knew... So fragile looking... Her friend was always strong... It felt like there was a stranger in his place, being connected to all those machines... When she noticed, she was close to him, by his bed and she started taking in what she saw. His chest was covered in bandages, cables on his chest that connected to the machines. Natsumi found herself thinking... if he was really alive or if it was just the machines keeping him alive... No... She shook her head... she couldn't think like that... Mitsuki was strong... he would make it... She noticed one of his arms was also bandaged... she guessed it was broken... she could only guess. Then his head... too... "What did they do to you...?" There were no responses... Of course... Only the steady beeps kept her company as the pink haired kunoichi slowly and quietly pulled a chair, so quiet as if she was afraid... that any kind of noise... any kind of disturbance at all... would just make him slip away... She sat beside his right side, and after a moment of hesitation, put a hand, gently, on his hand. "Mitsuki..." she whispered, surprised at how much like a smaller child she sounded. "It's Natsumi... I-I don't know if you can hear me..." she gulped. "B-but I... just want to say... we're here... you're not alone..." And just like it had happened when his team was present, the heart machine let out a bigger beep before returning to normal. Natsumi looked at the machine and then back at Mitsuki's steady form. "Did you hear me...?" That brought a small smile to her face. "I'm right here, no one is leaving you... we're friends..." Feeling a few tears drop on her cheeks, she raised a hand to wipe at them. "So don't... let what a few stupid weirdoes tell about you get to you, okay? Because next time I see anyone talk trash about you... I will just kick them to the next village with my fan." A few more drops fell, and she found herself shaking a little. "Just please be alright... okay?" And with those words said, Natsumi leaned in to kiss him on the forehead tenderly. "Tell me when you wake up... because I know you will." There was a knock and Natsumi turned around to see who it was. "Uncle..." she sniffed and wiped the remaining of her tears. "I thought I would find you here." And the Kazekage made his way into the room, closing the door behind him. In the next moment, he was already taking a seat beside his niece. "So this is the brave young boy..." The girl couldn't say anything, just nodded. "I didn't know you were close friends... I'm sorry, Natsumi..." She squared her shoulders. "No... He's gonna be alright. And everything will be okay then." Gaara just nodded, understanding how painful it would be for his niece to see a friend in this state. "Why is life so cruel to those who don't deserve it...?" she didn't take her eyes off of him. "I wish I could give you a proper answer but... I can't." She sniffed. "Uncle, you went through something similar... what can I do to help him...?" The redhead turned to give her a warm smile, the look in his eyes soft. "For now? Just pray for him to be safe and be back among us as soon as possible. And when that happens, show him your support and that you will always be there for him, no matter what. That's how it worked for me." Then his smile widened a little more. "But... I take it that you already know these." She sniffed and nodded. "I just want him back..." She looked back at her uncle. "I guess dad is looking for me...?" Gaara chuckled for a bit before ruffling his niece's hair. "He is... we better head back before he decides to tear up the entire Konoha." His gaze once again turned soft as he looked back at the boy. "And don't you worry... I have a very good feeling that he will be back... sooner or later." At that time, there was a knock on the door, and a medic peeked in. "Oh, I'm sorry, Kazekage-sama," she said respectfully. "I need to do some check-ups." Gaara and Natsumi both stood up from their chairs. "Of course," said the red haired. "We were just leaving." He looked at Natsumi, who nodded in return after taking one last look at Mitsuki.

#boruto:sacrifices #naruto #boruto #mitsuki #naruto fanfiction #boruto fanfiction

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prongsisabadger · 4 years ago

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TWP Chapter 22

Ahsoka was already scouting ahead, so it was her who set the bombs that would burst the lab hatches open. She would enter the lab from her position on the ground and both her team and mine would make an airborne entrance. When we had boarded the gunships on Theed, Rex had joked about seeing me more often than he did his brothers on the 212th or the 104th, which was pretty accurate. "We might have to add some blue to that armour of yours if you keep this up, Commander." Later I found out he hadn't been entirely joking.

The pilot opened the blast doors and a few seconds later, the ground in the swamp beneath us shook with the force of three explosions. It was dark and the woods around the area lit up for a few seconds before the smoke covered it all up.

I jumped off the LAAT/i and into the open hatch, landing on a seamless squat with the aid of the force so as not to injure my legs. I turned my lightsaber on and started to intercept enemy fire as the rest of Ahsoka and I's squad rappelled down the opening. We were in the middle of a corridor, so both of us padawans took position on opposite sides in order to shield the troops. The lab was more heavily defended than we had originally expected. It was counterintuitive to have so many battle droids in a Republic aligned planet such as Naboo. Especially in Naboo.

The system was one of the most notorious defenders of peace within the Galactic Senate, to target such a political presence in the eyes of the galaxy was bold. But there was no time to consider the political implications of the lab's placement. The CIS had gone too far when they decided to resort to biological warfare. They were trying to leave the Republic, fine, but there was no reason to kill hundreds of thousands of life forms because of it. We were not going to let that happen.

The plan was going smoothly. Ahsoka, our troops and I had managed to gather the attention of almost all the lab's security personnel. We were taking the brunt of the defense, true, but that meant Master Skywalker and Master Kenobi could carry out their own missions without having to worry about battle droids.

The thing about close quarters fighting is that it's rather restrictive by nature. There is no place for maneuvering or taking cover, or getting a little creative with one's attack. And in such circumstances, numbers often have the upper hand, especially if those numbers don't have the disadvantage of being irreplaceable life forms. Normal battle droids in big numbers were annoying enough, SBD's were a nuisance no one wanted to deal with, but Droidekas? yeah those were a problem. Their deflector shields were bad enough in open combat where you could sneak past them if you were stealthy enough, but in close quarters? Bad news.

The rolling balls of death rounded the corner like a clunking stampede of metal boulders. I cursed underneath my breath and resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Of course they had Droidekas in this Force Forsaken lab.

"'Soka! I won't fit," I yelled, "You jump, I'll throw you!"

"On three!" she answered, "Rex, take care of these for a second."

"Boil, lay cover fire!" I instructed. "THREE"

"Two!" returned Ahsoka as she turned her saber off and got ready to jump.

"Go!"

Ahsoka ran the couple of meters that separated her from me and jumped. I force pushed her in order to get above and across the destroyers. The gap between the droids and the ceilings had been too narrow for me to do it, so we had to make do. Ahsoka was agile, flexible, small and light, she was the perfect person for the job, and she was skilled. With all the training and natural ability of a Torguta she landed on one of the droids and turned her saber on, right on top of its head. The first one went down. I ran forward to draw the second droid's attention while Ahsoka repeated the process. Behind us, our squad finished turning the other battle droids into scrap metal. We were done, for now.

"Report." I said as I turned to my team and reached out into the Force to sense for any signs of pain or distress on any of the men. There were.

"Ginger is dead, T.H. was shot but is still able bodied," Said Waxer "Captain Rex is also down two men, Commander"

I sighed defeatedly before turning to my wounded trooper. He would never let anyone know, but he was in quite a lot of pain. His shoulder had been hit by a blast that ricocheted on one of the corridor surfaces. I wanted him to retreat, to get him out of there and to safety before his injuries started to work against him. But I couldn't. I needed him, we all did. We had lost more men than we could afford and we still needed to reinforce the other two squads. I also knew he would have never let me do it. He was a clone trooper of the 212th and he would rather die fighting than let his team die in his stead. He was no coward. None of them were.

"How are you doing T.H.?"

"It's just a scratch, Commander. I'll be good to go once I bandage it."

"Good man, take a breather and rest a few minutes, we'll be moving out soon." I said before crouching down in front of him. "I'm sorry I can't get you clear. I need you, I need all of you."

T.H. looked up at me, I couldn't see his face behind the helmet, but I could feel his surprise, the way his chest felt lighter, the way he felt like he could take on the entire CIS army by himself. His CO needed him. His CO cared for his safety but she needed him. He would not abandon his CO.

"Don't worry about me, Commander," he said with conviction. "We'll take this damn lab and complete the mission. You'll see."

I patted his healthy shoulder twice and smiled at him before standing up.

Ahsoka was talking to Rex behind us, the Force moved slowly around them and in Rex's case it felt almost viscous, stagnant, like he wasn't affected by the pain and turmoil. I knew better, and so did Ahsoka. We ordered the fallen troopers extracted by the team above ground, they would be given a proper funeral after this was all over.

"Rex, 'Soka, whatchu guys have for me?" I said approaching them.

"General Kenobi has made it safely to the storage room and is helping disable the bombs. They are almost done," said Rex as he pulled up the lab's geoscan that we had been provided with. "General Skywalker has found the hostages and is engaged with Doctor Vindi as we speak."

"We should reinforce him." Said Ahsoka.

I touched my hand to my chin as I thought about our dilemma. Help Skywalker with the hostage situation or help Master Kenobi defuse the bombs?

"Hostage situations are tricky," I started. "stepping in during negotiations could be very detrimental to the whole effort. If Vindi has something to threaten Skywalker with, odds are, he can do the same to us. I think we should let Skywalker deal with it."

"Our men are trained to defuse bombs, but none are as good as the ones with General Kenobi. I think we would be getting in the way if we decided to go help them." Commented Ahsoka.

"Commander, if I may…" said Rex and waited until I nodded to proceed. " We should secure all known exits to the lab so that no one can get out. That way we prevent the virus from leaving the facility and scrap any droids that want to escape."

I smirked at him before raising an eyebrow at Ahsoka. Rex was a good soldier, yes, but he was also more than just that, and he continued to show me so every time I saw him.

"Rex, old boy, you are the best." smiled my friend, "We would need to split up in order to cover all exits, and there aren't many of us left."

"Then we make the best of it. Rex, you take Waxer and Boil, stay here and man the southern hatch; Ahsoka, take Nax to the eastern one; T.H will come with me to the northern hatch. Nothing gets out." I said while pointing at the holo map Rex had been holding. "May the Force be with us, Pals."

Ahsoka nodded to me before setting off and Rex nodded, turning to the men he would be working with and starting to give out orders. I returned to where T.H. was seated and offered him my arm. He took it and stood up with little effort. He had taken a bacta shot, he said.

"I would have left you here with Rex but this is where I expect the most fire," I explained. "So you'll be coming with me, trooper. I'll have your back."

He tried moving his injured shoulder a little as if to stretch the muscle. He was in pain, there was no denying that, it didn't matter how good he was at hiding it.

"You don't have to coddle me, Commander." He returned. "Injured or not, I can keep up and have your back just as well. You can count on me."

I smiled honestly at his visor.

"I know I can."

…

T.H. was on the lookout as I tampered with the hatch controls. If anyone or anything managed to get past us, I wanted to make sure they didn't escape. Thus, hardwiring the hatch controls to remain closed and booby trap the thing so that if anyone tried to override it, they'd get a nasty surprise, and their faces blown to pieces. The lab's corridors weren't exactly soundproof, so every once in a while, the distant echoes of a blaster fight made its way to us. The situation was not ideal. If battlegrounds were stressful because of the chaos, then this was stressful due to the uncertainty of it all. We had no idea how close to letting a virus lose we were. We had no Idea if everybody else was okay, even with signals not jammed. We had no Idea how many more droids -battle droids or otherwise- were left in the facility. If you asked any of us about the status of the situation, the answer would most likely be "fuck if I know". But what was important was that we had given ourselves something to do, and all we had to do was accomplish it. When in distress, give yourself something to do.

"How are things going down there, T.H.?" I asked, rolling my shoulders from the strain. I'd had my arms up towards the hatch for over twenty minutes and they were starting to hurt.

"Clear, Commander." Answered the clone. "We have comm chatter though. Hostages are secure but the doctor is attempting to escape and Skywalker is in pursuit... -" he stilled for a second as if to listen to the radio more carefully. "General Kenobi is moving to intercept, his team is done defusing the bombs."

A relieved sigh escaped me without consent. We weren't about to die of an incurable disease. I finished the job regardless. Even when we caught Vindi, there would be droids and possibly other personel trying to escape, we needed to make sure none were left free to roam Naboo once everything was over.

"Good, I want to get out of here as soon as possible," I said placing the control panel over the wires once again and clicking it in place. "I don't think the humidity on the planet agrees with me."

#TWP #clone wars fan fiction #star wars the clone wars #plo koon #obi-wan kenobi #ahsoka tano #commander wolffe #captain rex #padawan!oc

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nimsajlove · 4 years ago

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The new ones

Brothers-AU Ao3

Hug resisted the urge to tap nervously with one foot. He had trained so hard to get this under control! Crick next to him suppressed a smile every time he looked over at him, the two had only known each other for a few hours. "Welcome home.", the pilot called from the front and the two shinys felt how they were leaving hyperspace and looked curiously through the cockpit outside. In front of them lay the cruiser, quiet and sublime.

"General! The shuttle just left hyperspace.” Ahsoka nodded and climbed off the fighter she was working on, some of the skills Anakin Skywalker had taught her were really useful! And it had its own charm when you could patch the ships back together yourself. She was just putting the tools together a little and was still looking around for her jedi robe when Rex came into the hangar and pressed a rag into her hands. "Ah, thank you.", she smiled and wiped her hands clean, her brown robe lay over his arm and she took it with clean fingers. "It was still on the bridge.", the clone smiled and a little confused, the young Jedi pushed the toolbox closer to the fighter. "Yet again? I'm sorry.” She really was sorry, she had rarely worn her robe during the beginning of the war and since she tried to at least have it with her, she left it everywhere and looked for it practically all the time. Usually it was Rex or Jesse who then picked it up and brought it to her. Rex was about to reply, when the hangar opened and the shuttle floated inside. Immediately his eyebrows drew together. "Do you really think it's a good idea, to bring these kids in here?", he muttered and Ahsoka shrugged her shoulders a little, he was kinda right. Somehow she would have to explain the story with the chips to the two new clones, and she had no idea how! Still, it was good that they were here. She had spent many years with her brothers and at some point picked up the one or other story. Of accidents, victories, losses and cadets who disappeared. The men weren't stupid, and neither was she. “Shaak Ti thinks they would fit in well. Give them a chance!", she encouraged him and pushed her shoulder against his, grinning even that she didn't really feel like laughing, that she swallowed quickly. She had read the reports about the two new clones and Master Shaak Ti was right, the two men were better off with her than in the great mass of the other battalions.

A small favor, requested from Plo Koon, had been enough to sort out clones in Kamino for them that did not quite meet the standard. That only suited her, the clones who had already had to fight their way through on Kamino had mostly proven to be extremely clever and she loved to see how the individual personalities blossomed. The shuttle shut down the drive and fell silent, then the ramp came down and at first the pilots came towards her. "General.", greeted one of the two and she returned the greeting. The other glanced at the fighter instead and shook his head. "You can't fix that anymore." Ahsoka raised her eyebrows and grinned, arms crossed over her chest and with a challenging look, with that she looked much younger than she was and not like a Jedi at all. "Give me 5 hours.", she challenged him snippily and he laughed. "Good, one more dessert for me.", he laughed and nodded to her again before hurrying after his brother. Ahsoka was happy, most of the men had known her for a long time and it was good to just be treated like everyone else from time to time. When she turned her gaze to the front again, the two shinys had already got out and were standing near the shuttle, unsure of where to go without a supervisor. Immediately she came over to them, Rex right behind her and still thoughtful. She had already internalized the names, Hug had a fine burn scar on his chin. After years of dealing with the clones, Ahsoka couldn't miss it!

Hug saw the two figures as soon as they started moving. Suddenly his nervousness reached a new high and his fingertips were tapping restlessly on the helmet under his arm. Crick rolled his eyes but remained silent. However, he too seemed tense. Except for the jedi master Shaak Ti, they didn't knew any of the generals, but the clone in front of them was nothing new to them. Anyone who had ever caught a glimpse of the reports on the 501st remembered the captain. There was only one thing, this wasn't the battalion in blue... Only at second glance did Hug understand, that the rich bronze reflected the skin of the Togruta in front of them. "Crick and Hug, right?", asked the young woman, almost still a girl, and smiled openly. Both nodded. "Yes Sir.", they answered and the two superiors exchanged a quick look, Hug didn't knew exactly what it was but they seemed to agree on something, because the captain nodded and disappeared. The new general stayed behind. "I'm Ahsoka Tano, I hope Master Ti didn't tear you out of somewhere.", the slim figure smiled and turned her full attention back to them, her face slightly contracted in concern. Hug's fingers tingled, it was more than uncomfortable to stand so still. Crick glanced over at him briefly and took over speaking, Hug didn't knew if it would do any better. "No Sir, we are happy to be with you.", he explained and General Tano's face suddenly lit up, making her look even younger in an incredible way. "Good, the 332nd is happy to have you." Although the words were warm, the realization made Hug cold. He hadn't heard of Ahsoka Tano yet, but the older clones in Kamino, who were in regular contact with their brothers at the front, spoke of the 332nd very often in the last few months. Nothing particularly bad, but little good either.

“Come on, I'll show you where you're staying. It's important to know your home well.”, the Jedi smiled, then she led the way and they followed her out of the hangar. Apparently the cruisers were no less busy than Kamino, soldiers were everywhere in the corridors and greeted their general. It just wasn't really like they where supposed to do with the way they laughed, nodded or patted the woman on the back. Woman? Girl? Hug couldn't really make up his mind, the Jedi was a little smaller than the clones, but not that small either! The wide robe obscured her figure and Hug did not yet know exactly, what to think of such a young leader. When they passed the canteen and General Tano gave them a brief overview, he caught his fingers again as they nervously drummed on his helmet and forced them to remain still. His mind was so focused on the things he'd heard about the 332nd that he couldn't keep a word from the general. That started well! Only at the quarters did he get a grip on himself and listened a little more closely. "Home sweet home.", she smiled and instructed the two men to go ahead. All berths appeared occupied, except for the last two in the back. As the two men went to their bunks, the general suddenly bent down and sighed and picked up something, a helmet. Shaking her head, she laid it on a bunk by the door, the small smile on her lips made no sense! Leave a helmet on the floor, nobody smiled about it on Kamino!

She looked up and met his confused gaze before he could lower it. "Don't blame Mad.", she said and just sat on the floor between Cricks and Hug's bunks. Jedi, a general, on the floor... Crick gave him a doubtful look, good. Then at least he wasn't the only one.

"Do you two still have questions?", she asked and seemed to lean back, relaxed, supporting herself on her hands. Hug hesitated; his strange questions were never well received! Crick seemed to have less inhibitions and started. "Captain Rex is no longer with the 501st?" Hug rolled his eyes, of course that was Crick's biggest concern! General Tano let out her breath in amusement, but didn't seem surprised. “No, he was so free to join my command. Which I really appreciate!“, she emphasized and Crick sank into thought, now Hug would probably have to ask his questions himself. "Don't worry Hug, just ask.", she suddenly demanded and Hug looked up, was he that obvious? "Your head is quite loud.", she grinned and it looked so oddly out of place compared to General Ti. "I heard things on Kamino..." He broke off when the Jedi's face darkened and she straightened up again, arms crossed over her chest and eyes directed downwards. "Of course you heard things...", she muttered and looked up again, she seemed more sad than angry. "Go on.", she asked when Hug hesitated further. The request loosened his tongue again, even if he would mess it up with his general on the first day. “Well, some of the men said the 332nd would be a bad deal. A unit for those who can no longer fight. Who is too weak, ends up here.", he confessed to her the rumors that wandered among the clones on Kamino. Ahsoka Tano's face didn't relax, but she tried a smile. “I can guess where that came from. What is the best place to start for you... We'll fight like any battalion. I have brought in very capable and experienced men, each of whom is able to fight a battle without me. Unfortunately, I don't like to hang around the back and just hand out commands. I also take care of my men, but I don't want puppets that never say anything. The rumors probably broke out after the trouble with Fives.", she mumbled softly and Hug perked up. He'd heard the name a couple of times. "The traitor who defied General Ti?", Crick asked, Hug was glad that the other clone had quickly made the right connection too. His stomach felt queasy when General Tano nodded. “Yes, I brought Fives over here. He's saved my life time and time again, so it's only fair if I do the same for him. He's part of the family.“, she explained openly and there was a deep passion in her voice, Hug believed her every word. Though Shaak Ti had never spoken of the clones like that. For a moment everyone was quiet, Crick seemed to weigh the general's words and Hug tried to rearrange his thoughts. "But officially he is defective.", he followed up, General Tano nodded and now her face no longer looked sad. She seemed angry, he immediately closed his mouth again. But when she spoke there was so much calm in her voice that the contrast to her gaze was almost painful. “Yes, it was rated that way on Kamino and in the Senate. I judge differently. Droids have defects, living things don't.” Something in Hug's head finally snapped into the empty space, the question of why he had been sent here. “We weren't just divided up. You requested us?", he asked carefully and her face smoothed again, she nodded. “Yes, Master Shaak Ti shares part of my view and thought that you have a better chance here. Without someone to report every little thing.” Now she smiled again and seemed very pleased with herself.

Crick scratched his neck, so was it a collection of faulty soldiers? He knew that it had not been easy for him and Hug on Kamino, he learned this pretty fast about the other. Hug could never sit still, his fingers were constantly moving! Even now he could see it out of the corner of his eye. Himself... numbers just didn't made sense to him! Without one of his brothers he would not have survived longer than the age of 4 or 5, he knew exactly how sorting out worked on Kamino, especially at a young age. "And what faults do the others have here?", he snapped, briefly forgetting that the girl in front of him was his new general. He wanted to take the words back immediately, but she seemed to be thinking seriously. “Nobody here has faults, after all, each of the men is very good at what he does. Hevy has a hard time holding back his strength, but that's okay. Mad leaves everything scattered around, but never in his life would he simply forget something important. And Tilt…” She nodded to a bunk in the upper row, a datapad was there. “He's got a bet with Kix, who'll get the stupidest injury during the week. But hey, that's how they both are.” A gentle smile made her face shine and Crick wondered briefly what she had seen to enjoy this simple life so much. "Then why are we here?", Hug asked and Crick nodded. All the men here were experienced, what did the general want with two newcomers now? Because he had to give her one thing, her casualty figures were among the lowest in the last few battles. “Hug, stop cramping your fingers like that. That makes me nervous.", was her first answer and Crick swung his head around, in fact Hug had clasped his helmet unnecessarily tight and now loosened his grip, immediately his fingers returned to the soft clatter on the helmet and the clone looked everything else than happy about it. "Hey, it's okay. I know that Master Shaak Ti noticed that you have problems with all the sitting and standing still. But I heard that you didn't make a single mistake deciphering codes. I think it's good, I can use someone who can concentrate on one thing that way.", she smiled and Hug visibly breathed a sigh of relief, Crick wondered what he was worried about.

“And that you, Crick, can't read anything out of the whole tangle of numbers is okay too, there is a reason why I avoid decoding. I can't, so I prefer to leave it. But! I saw how well you did with the whole mess of cables!” The first praise in what felt like an eternity caused a warm feeling in his chest, suddenly it didn't matter how young the general in front of him was! She had seen what he could do!

Hug was infinitely relieved that there was someone who didn’t ask him to sit quietly! He and Crick just smiled briefly at each other, until a fine squeak was audible. General Tanos comlink. "Sir, I need to get Hevy and Cutup to the medbay. They tried Hardcase's special stunt.", came an unfamiliar voice, but it seemed familiar to the general and she froze for a moment before grimacing. "Of course they have..." Then she hesitated and rubbed her face once, Hug put the expression somewhere between tired and restless. "How long has it been since the shuttle arrived?", she then asked and now the other clone laughed. Hug was not quite sure how one could laugh so openly at his general, but he thought he was slowly understanding. "It’s about the bet with Gut, right? Good luck, you still have exactly three hours.” Cursing and laughing at the same time, the girl got to her feet and cut the connection. Then she grinned. "Come with me."

It was harder than expected to quickly follow a Jedi down the hallways. How was he supposed to keep pace in a battle? They way led them back to the hangar, now that he already knew it, the fighter, not from the republic, could not be overlooked. “We picked something up and it would be a shame to just let it rot. Besides, the data is encrypted, so it can only be interesting.” While she spoke, she took off the wide robe and simply hung it over one of the wings of the ship. Hug had to smile. Then a datapad was shoved into his hands. She crawled onto the ship and put her hands in one of the open flaps. Crick stood next to him, a little surprised. "Come on, we don't have much time left to save my dessert.", the girl grinned down at the two of them and for the first time in his life, Hug had the feeling that he belonged.

#star wars #clone wars #ahsoka tano #clone ocs #brothers-au #clone trooper hug oc #clone trooper crick oc

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cami-chats · 3 years ago

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The New Assistant

Fandom: Marvel, Jurassic World

Pairing: Claire Dearing/Tony Stark

Warnings: Mentions of kidnapping and attempted murder in keeping with Iron Man 1

Written for @periwinklepromise. Also on AO3

"This is Claire," Pepper said.

"What did you do, clone yourself?" Tony asked, looking at Claire. From the straightened and perfectly cut red hair, down to her low heels and pristine dress suit, she looked very similar to Pepper. Not to mention the no-nonsense look on her face. "Seriously Pep, she could be your sister. Wait, is she your sister? Please say yes; it would make me very happy."

Instead of asking why it would make him happy-- because Pepper was a spoilsport-- she said, "She's your new assistant. She has excellent management skills, and god knows she'll need it do deal with you." Pepper turned to Claire and handed her a tablet with a window already pulled up. "This is Tony's schedule for the day. I'll be in my office looking over paperwork, so I'll be available if you need me."

Claire dipped her head in acknowledgement, taking the tablet from her. Her eyes flitted over the screen as Pepper walked away, and a moment later, she looked up at Tony with a polite smile. "You have a meeting with Mr. Kenjiro Fujikawa in thirty minutes. Where would you like to be briefed for your meeting?"

So she wasn't fucking around. Tony's assistants before Pepper had always thought they were being serious, but there had been no getting around the fact that he was their boss, and as a personal assistant, they were supposed to do things the way he wanted. He should've known to expect more from a person that Pepper had hand-picked, but everyone made mistakes-- even Pepper. "Here's fine," he said, because they were already in his office, and there was no point in picking a fight with Claire now, when he did need to prepare for that meeting. He'd had a lot of assistants that didn't even know he had to prepare for big meetings, and it had always been a pain in the ass.

By the time Claire's first day of work was done, Tony was suitably impressed. He hadn't gone out of his way to make things difficult, but he also wasn't a kid anymore. It was more important for him to get his shit done than it was to see if she could handle him on his worst day; it's not like he'd been at his worst in quite a while, so hopefully she would never be put to the test. Claire had been able to keep up, and she was able to adjust to the way Tony wanted things.

"So," Pepper said, first thing when Tony answered his phone, "what do you think?"

"I'm keeping her."

Pepper's voice was expectedly smug as she replied, "Good to hear. Does that mean I don't have to check in on you tomorrow to make sure your entire schedule hasn't collapsed?"

"Don't go crazy, now," Tony said. "There's always the chance for things to collapse around here."

"Still, I think I'll take my chances. This is what you get for promoting me."

"Yes, and I'm sure I'll constantly regret it."

"Claire really is good at what she does," Pepper said.

"And what exactly is it that she does? I took a peek at her resume, and there was nothing about being an assistant on there."

"If you read her resume, surely you could figure it out."

"I skimmed it," Tony said. Mostly, he'd been looking to see who else she'd been an assistant for, and he'd found no one. He hadn't looked further than that.

"She used to do administrative work," Pepper said, since she knew that Tony was more likely to pester her for an answer than he was to go back to her resume and look for himself.

"Then what's she doing here?"

"The last charity she helped turned out to be less than kosher. She wants a break."

"Ah." Tony could understand that. He'd taken some time off from the company when he felt like everything he'd done had been a colossal failure. Granted it hadn't been what SI needed at the time, but he understood needing a break all the same. That being said, he hoped she stayed longer than just a 'break'. Good assistants were hard to come by. "I'm still not convinced you didn't clone her so you could be in two places at once."

"If I could clone myself, one of me would be resting at all times," Pepper said, which was a good point, but Tony couldn't relate. If he had two of himself, he'd be able to get so much more work done.

"Mister Stark, there’s a flight you have to be on in half an hour."

"It's my plane, isn't it? Can't it just leave whenever I show up?"

"Would you like to personally explain to flight control why your schedule is more important than the hundred other planes in the area?" Claire asked, reaching for her phone.

Tony knew that she wasn't bluffing. He'd thought she was bluffing the first half dozen times they'd done this, but he'd finally learned his lesson. "No, no, that's fine," he said, hurriedly saving the document that was up and tossing tools back in the closest box-- DUM-E would fix it if it was the wrong one. "Look at me, I'm closing everything down. I'm practically out the door."

Claire put her phone back in her pocket. "Your bag is already packed and on the plane," she said, pulling her tablet up and tapping at it. "Would you like to continue expanding your modern art collection?"

"The Pollock, right?"

"Yes."

"What do you think?"

"It's overpriced, and you already have some of his work. I think your collection would be perfectly fine without it."

Tony was tempted to say that he wanted it anyways. "Eh, pass on it, then."

"When you get back, you have a presentation you need to work on, and you're supposed to do a walkthrough of the R&D labs in Manhattan."

"Ugh, can't we do one miserable job at a time?"

"You like the walkthroughs," Claire said, her voice devoid of any frustration, but he knew her well enough by now to see the spark in her eyes.

"I meant the presentation, but sure, we can talk about the walkthroughs," Tony said with a shrug. He walked to the door, and Claire followed. "There's nothing good about New York. The weather's horrible; I think it's effected all of their brains. Seriously, you should see some of the designs they've come up with lately."

"I wouldn't be able to tell the difference between a good design and a bad one," she reminded him.

"I think you'd be able to tell the difference anyways," he muttered.

Claire didn't let him take a seperate car the way he wanted to, and he understood why when she continued briefing him on the upcoming weapon's demonstration and what he'd be doing when he got back.

When they stopped, she gave a friendly wave to Jim and told Tony, "Try to come back on time. I have a feeling we'll both be annoyed if I have to rework it if you miss your flight."

Funnily enough, it was one of the things Tony thought about when he woke up in the cave. Not the first time. The first time, he was in pain and trying to figure out where the hell he was and what the fuck had happened. The second or third day though, before he knew what he was going to do, he thought about Claire saying that, and he laughed.

Yinsen looked at him and raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"Something my assistant said before I left," he said, shaking his head.

When he got back to the States, Pepper and Claire were both waiting as he walked down the ramp. Pepper, he had expected. He was surprised to see Claire, though. He'd thought that she would've moved on to a different job, since being his assistant had been a temporary position for her.

He exchanged a few words with Pepper that amounted to 'I care about you and that scared me out of my wits'. Then he turned to Claire. Her eyes were similarly red-rimmed, as Pepper's had been, and she'd pulled her hair back instead of straightening it like she usually did.

"So, is my schedule in complete disarray?" he asked.

"You have no idea. I did um, clear any personal appearances for the next six months."

"I'm not that injured."

"There's a lot to catch up on after you're back to work. Personal appearances are not a priority."

Tony would be lying if he said he wasn't excited to get out of personal appearances-- they were easily his least favorite part of what he did for the company.

"I agree," Pepper said, coming back with Happy by her side. "The most important thing right now is to make sure you're okay. Happy's going to take us to the hospital."

"No."

"What?" Claire said, frowning at him-- and she wasn't the only one.

"Tony, you have to go to the hospital. Jim passed along your medical report from the military doctors, and he made it clear that you need another visit."

"Medical files are confidential, so you're both guessing that I need another visit," Tony said, even though he knew that Rhodey had looked at the details. He didn't want anyone poking around the arc reactor in his chest, and that included doctors.

Claire's frown deepened, like she knew he was hiding something.

Pepper and Happy started in on him about how he had to go to the hospital, and if he tried to refuse, they were going to drag him there. Tony knew that it was an empty threat, but he also knew that they would do their level best to force him. If it got bad enough, they'd probably hire someone to come to his house, which he was even less a fan of.

Claire being exactly who she was, put it in Tony's schedule, along with a visit to a therapist. It was someone who usually only worked with actors and musicians, but it meant that they were trustworthy to not spill any secrets.

Tony negotiated yes to the doctor, and no to the therapist. Claire nodded, and then scheduled a different therapist for two weeks later. When Tony got upset with her, she glared at him. Claire had never glared at him before, and then she said, "What part of 'kidnapped' has gone over your head? It's a little thing we like to call 'trauma'. Even if you go once and he says you're fine, you need to go."

"If I agree to go to that appointment, will you go with me to the benefit tomorrow?"

"Deal."

"Deal," Tony echoed with a grin. Pepper had said she'd go to the benefit on his behalf, but since she'd gotten her own invitation, he didn't think that would work. She wouldn't be there on his behalf; she'd just be there.

Claire dealt with the discovery of the armor pretty well-- a lot better than Pepper did, when she ended up finding out-- which surprised Tony. He'd thought that she'd freak out. What surprised Tony more was when she hauled off and punched Stane in the face. The man was in a massive metal suit, and Claire punched him. It didn't solve the situation and Tony still had to go repulsor to repulsor with him so that he was incapacitated when Shield got there to arrest him, but it was beautiful to behold.

"I can't believe you punched him," Tony said, trying to ignore all the feelings that wanted to send him into hiding. He'd known Stane his entire life, and... god, he didn't know what he was going to do. Claire had talked about investigations and lost inventory, and Tony was just trying to hold himself together.

"It didn't do much good," Claire said. She shifted the ice pack on her knuckles to a more comfortable position.

"Still, it was nice to see." Tony loved Pepper, but she didn't really do violence. Claire, on the other hand, hadn't hesitated. Tony had one hundred percent not expecting it. Claire had squared up like she was always ready for an eventuality like this. "You know, we never had that drink."

"I considered the attack on terrorists that night to be a good replacement for talking over drinks," she said, slanting a smile at him.

"You've got a weird idea about dates."

"Is that what you getting me a drink was supposed to be? A date?"

"Well technically, you going to the benefit with me was a date. The drink was to make it better."

"And since we left the drinks behind so you could give the armor a test drive, I think it counts as a continuation of the date," Claire said.

"You realize I have to quit now, right?" Claire said.

"What? No, absolutely not."

She rolled her eyes at him, but the fact that she was spending a lazy morning after in his bed took off the sting. "I am not going to be in a relationship with my boss."

"Aw, c'mon, you went on a date with your boss, and we both know that this isn't a matter of sexual favors and preferential treatment. What does it matter if you keep working for me?"

"I'm either going to date you or be your assistant. I'm not doing both."

"But you're so good at being my assistant," Tony whined.

Claire snorted. "In between your Iron Man duties and the company, you need two assistants. I'm not qualified to be two people. Besides, I found a charity I'm willing to work with, and I have an interview next week."

"When were you going to tell me that you were quitting?" Tony asked, failing to not sound offended.

"Last night. You distracted me."

"I think you have to give two weeks notice for this sort of thing." Having never been employed by someone other than his own company, he wasn't sure, but he'd heard about it enough times that he thought it was true.

"I told both Pepper and Human Resources, and they are looking for a new assistant fo you as we speak. Well, HR is. Pepper's probably busy with her own work, since it's not her job to find you an assistant."

Tony frowned. "She found you."

"We're friends, and I told her when I quit my last job. She didn't act as a head hunter and seek me out."

"Huh." He hadn't known about that, and he felt like he should have. "You're friends?"

"From college." She pushed herself up and stretched her arms.

Tony tugged her back down, grinning at the exasperated look she gave him. "Since I'm still your boss, I can say that our work day hasn't started yet."

"My day always starts before yours, otherwise you-" she tapped his chest pointedly "-wouldn't be anywhere on time."

"Fine, I won't get up until noon. That gives you until eleven or something, right? Right. So we can stay in bed until then, and-"

"You are ridiculous," Claire said, then she kissed him. "And I'm getting up, work or no work."

"I can't believe I signed up for this," Tony groaned.

#tony stark #claire dearing #marvel #jurassic world #fanfic #my writing

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reluctantly-plus-ultra · 5 years ago

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So....I'm literally in love with your rei&lov stuff and wanted to ask if you're still taking scenario suggestions? In case you do; how about dabihawks, in which dabi figures out/always knew that hawks is actually a spy but convinces hawks to actually become a villain? Or literally any hawks&shouto interaction in which they talk for some reason(internship?) And bc of that hawks figures out that dabi=touya and endevour=horrible and has kinda a breakdown? (Bonus points of shouto already knew) Thx

First of all, thank you so much! I’m definitely still taking requests- sorry this one took a while to post, but I’ve been in finals this past week and things have been hectic. Second, I’m going to have to apologize in advance because I saw all of your awesome suggestions here and instead of tackling this like any sane person would by choosing one thing to write about, I decided to write all of them in one request… So in other words, this sucker is LONG. Anyway, without further ado, enjoy the piece!

[REQUESTED] DABIHAWKS: DARK SIDE

- All it takes is one boy being saved for everything to go absolutely batshit crazy.

- Keigo “Hawks” Takami is a cunning man, ruthless when it comes to intelligence, speed, determination. He’s been trained- raised his whole life to be the personification of the perfect working hero: instinctive, quick, capable of wearing as many masks as it takes to get the job done and hiding all of that deadly capability behind a warm, smiling face that keeps him the darling of the public eye.

- And yet, despite his wit, despite his impeccable skill for analysis, despite every sign that should have given him a few warning bells about this situation, Hawks had stumbled in completely blind. Nothing could’ve prepared him for this.

- It had started off as nothing more than a basic street brawl. Hawks had taken the day to patrol with Enji and Shouto, the young man having returned to his father’s agency for his internship. In fact, it was mostly because of Shouto that Hawks had decided to head out with Endeavor in the first place- he was curious about the youngest Todoroki. The boy already had a pretty impressive reputation regardless of the fact that he hadn’t yet gone pro, and Hawks was curious to see whether or not he would hold up in person.

- So when they’d gotten the call that there was a robbery four blocks away and that a fight had broken out in the square, he hadn’t given two thoughts about it, really. Hell, the kid had faced off against the League shortly after entering his first year and come out without a scratch. He could take a couple amateur thugs no problem.

- And at first, things actually go really well. Shouto’s got some serious skill, and it doesn’t take long for them to get the situation sorted out-

- That is, at least, until a few familiar faces show up.

- Hawks swears he’s going to kick Dabi’s ass into next week when he, Toga, Compress and Twice all round the corner and straight into the whole mess. Like, it’s bad enough that now he’s going to have to put up a fight with them, but for fuck’s sake the last thing he needs is to be gearing up to face them while also trying to put on a nonchalant expression as Toga starts laughing her ass off at the sight of him being there.

- So of course shit goes sideways and a second fight breaks out. Hawks has never been more thankful of Twice, because the man just keeps sending clone after clone his way and it’s keeping him busy enough that he doesn’t have to throw punches at any of the others. After all, the League had just started warming up to him, and he really doesn’t want to be sending anybody home packing black eyes on his account.

- But that also leaves three villains against two Todorokis, and while that still shouldn’t be a problem, it turns out to be.

- In hindsight knowing what he’d come to learn much later, maybe it was the way Endeavor barked the boy’s name. Maybe it was how he’d whipped around so suddenly the flames on his body guttered and flared. Maybe it was even just the simple matter of having his arm raised when he turned.

- Either way, whatever he’d been going to tell his youngest child goes unsaid, be it advice or otherwise.

- All Hawks knows is that it takes a full two seconds for Endeavour to shout his son’s name, to wheel around to face him, arm still rigid above his head from the last burst of flame he’d sent at Compress, hand exploding into a raging blaze once more- and then Dabi is fucking sprinting.

- And at first, Hawks almost goes after him because it seems like the fire-user is about to take out Shouto and quite frankly, it didn’t matter who you are: going after a child is a low blow, plain and simple.

- So when he dispatches Twice’s next clone in a messy hurry and moves to follow, he’s stopped dead in his tracks by a display he never thought he’d witness: the patchwork villain yelling “Sho!” so loudly his voice cracks before quite literally hauling the young hero behind him and bracing his free arm in front of them both in a gesture that is so inherently and naturally defensive it makes Hawks pause.

- Half a second later, there’s an explosion of blue fire so fierce and bright that it’s damn near blinding. It takes a few moments for the winged hero to blink the light from his eyes, but when he manages to do so, it is only to take in the sight of three faces equally painted in horror.

- And here’s the thing; Hawks expects some kind of reaction from Shouto, so the fact that he’s still stunned and unmoving behind this villain isn’t exactly a surprise. Hell, he expects a reaction from Dabi too, because that degree of defensiveness, that scale of fire, the sheer desperation in his movements seconds before the explosive blast- it’s so unlike him, especially over some hero’s son?

- But it’s when Enji Todoroki blanches just as pale as the other two, eyes wide as Shouto’s, hands shaking like Dabi’s, that Hawks feels an uncomfortable clench in his gut. That feeling persists, too, as the fighting stops around them, and everything falls into silence, ashes falling down around them like snow. It’s the first time that Hawks has noticed that the walls of the surrounding buildings have been scorched black from the heat, smoke still rising in the air.

- There’s blood leaking down Dabi’s face, his arms, past his burnt jacket sleeves and the collar of his shirt. He’s in pain, Hawks can tell, even from where he’s standing. That move took a lot out of him-

- But there’s also no way he wouldn’t have known that before doing it, and that raises more than a few questions.

- All three men look like they’re reliving some kind of flashback, some kind of memory or unanimous nightmare. It’s Shouto who speaks first, voice wavering, and even then it’s only one word, indistinguishable from their current distance- but it’s enough to snap Dabi out of whatever reverie he’s in and cause him to snarl and bolt.

- Nobody goes after him, not even Endeavor, and in seconds the patchwork man is gone, lost to the shadows and alleys. Being realistic, it would take Hawks less than a minute to soar up above the buildings and scout him down, demand some answers, but Twice is quicker to the punch.

“Let us handle this for now- you can take of him later, I’m not handling his broody side.”

- The rest of the League is in the process of disappearing as well as Hawks makes his way up to the pair of still shell-shocked heroes, quirking an eyebrow and tugging at a few feathers that got bent in his fight.

- “You want to tell me what that was all about? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

- The hard glint in Enji’s eye as he glances at him and then spins around on his heel without a word, walking in the opposite direction is all the confirmation he needs to know that maybe they have.

- Days pass. It had been hard enough not asking questions for the rest of their patrol but when, four days later, Endeavor still won’t give him the time of day and Dabi won’t respond to any of his texts and calls, Hawks has had about enough.

- Aizawa’s not exactly thrilled about the Number Two hero calling in to ask if he can take part of the morning to talk to Todoroki about some of the events of their last patrol, but he presses that it’s important, and Aizawa eventually gives in on the grounds that it’s safer for them to talk at the school about mission work than anywhere else, really.

- And that’s how he and the dual-quirked boy end up facing one another over cold coffee in the otherwise vacant teacher’s lounge, Shouto guarded as ever, and Hawks feeling a bit nervous despite the circumstances. Truth being told, he isn’t sure what he’s looking to find here, exactly, but the whole situation has been burning a hole in his stomach for half a week, and something about it really isn’t sitting right.

- “…This is about the whole… Incident with him, isn’t it?” Todoroki asks eventually, tone flat, and Hawks has to admit that he’s chosen some interesting phrasing.

- “Pretty much, yeah,” Hawks scratches the back of his neck awkwardly, unsure where to even start. The whole thing seems pretty absurd. The youngest Todoroki hums and sips at his cold coffee, the light rippling of the liquid being the only thing betraying the slight tremour of his hands.

- “If you have questions, why not ask him instead?” Hawks immediately wrinkles his nose at that.

- “Who, Endeavor? Something tells me he wouldn’t be the most willing audie-”

- “Not Endeavor.” Shouto fixes his cup back on its saucer before turning curious but carefully blank eyes on him, “Dabi. You two seem close enough for it.”

- Well, fuck.

- Hawks’ brain is going a mile a minute trying to figure out how Shouto managed to put two and two together. There’s no way he’d figured it out from that patrol day- they hadn’t even interacted at all, and Hawks had been careful not to mention the patchwork villain around any of the other heroes so as to not raise suspicion with his mission, or to have anyone go snooping too deeply into something that could also get him in a huge deal of shit.

- Not really knowing how else to play his cards but to try and save face, Hawks squints and shakes his head at the boy in confusion, hoping the “dumb-bird” act will save his ass. Underneath the surface, though, he can feel the pinpricks of an impending anxiety attack, the boy’s blunt and unexpected words having shredded every assumption of caution that he thought he’d put up. Hell, if Shouto has figured things out this far, has he also figured out Hawks’ connection to the League? Has he told anyone else? The Commission is going to skin him alive when they found out-

- “I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about,” Hawks tries, grimacing at the end of the statement for effect, “Unless you’re meaning because I didn’t intervene when everything went down and help you guys out- sorry about that by the way, but I figured you two would have everything under control, and when all the fighting stopped, I just froze.” He shrugs, trying his best to look sheepish, “It doesn’t happen often, but sometimes when the shock is great enough I’m more of a natural freezer than a reactor. Probably some kind of weird bird thing.”

- Shouto regards him for a solid second, unblinking, before cracking a small smile.

- “You’re a good liar.” He says simply, before sipping his coffee again. “But that’s not what I’m talking about at all.”

- Those pinpricks return again, and Hawks’ wings flutter somewhat nervously on their own accord. He resists the urge to let them expand just to give himself a bit more of a size advantage, and instead tries playing it off again. Shouto’s eyebrows raise at the attempt, and it’s with almost exaggerated disbelief that he sets his cup down for the second time and announces, in that odd, cool way of his, “So you just let any villain wear your feathers, then?”

- Hawks chokes on his coffee.

- This time, he legitimately does not know what the hell Todoroki’s talking about, but it turns out that the observant teen had caught sight of a long stretch of cord that had shifted somewhat out from under the other man’s loose shirt when he spun around to run.

- And there’s nothing weird about that in itself. Dabi’s kinda a jewelry guy, and Heaven knows he’s got enough piercings to prove it. But when Todoroki gets to mentioning that there was a small red feather on the end of the rope, Hawks can’t help but flush pink just a little bit because he’d left that feather as a calling card to tell the other man he’d broken into his apartment two weeks ago and he’d gone and strung it on a necklace what an absolute fucking dork-

- “I don’t think Endeavor saw,” Todoroki continues absently, “So it’s just me that knows, and I don’t want any of the details,” He looks at Hawks solemnly again, this time his voice growing quieter, “I’ll keep your secret, but forgive me for using it to make sure you keep mine.”

- Hawks examines him for a slow moment, fully aware that neither of them are moving, and the air is growing tense. This boy could bring his career crashing down around his ears with a few words muttered in the right direction, and yet Hawks is inclined to believe him when he says he’ll keep a secret. With a sigh, the winged hero extends a hand.

- “Deal.” He agrees, shivering at the contact of ice on his palm, Todoroki apologizing for the slip under his breath. “Now, what’s this secret, then?”

- Shouto chews his lip for a moment before sitting back in his seat, hands clenched into fists.

- “I need to tell you a story.”

______________________________________________________

- An hour later, the entire fucking world has been turned on its head, and nothing is ever going to be the same.

- Shouto Todoroki sits quietly for a moment, before calmly reaching out for his coffee cup again, more for the simple grounding action of holding it than anything else. The silence in the room is stifling, especially after the burrage of information Hawks has had dumped on him in the last sixty minutes, and his brain is still sluggishly trying to process most of it.

- “He’s… He’s your brother?” The hero manages eventually, mouth feeling dry, stomach churning. That panging ache in his stomach that he’d felt before has returned tenfold, and it takes everything in Hawks’ apparent willpower to not run for a garbage bin and puke from all the nausea.

- Todoroki won’t meet his eye, and Hawks doesn’t blame him- after everything that’s been revealed at this coffee table, he’s not sure he could look the younger man dead in the face without breaking down in some way. Seeing his scar, mentally comparing it to Dabi’s many, brain running lists of all their similarities and those lists coming up remarkably long.

- The worst of it is the carpet that got all but torn out from under his feet as Shouto had explained what his father had put them all through, his involvement at home, how they had assumed for so long that their oldest sibling had died, and that it had been their father’s fault, no different than Rei’s hospitalization and, by extension, Shouto’s burned eye. It’s this news that curdles his stomach more than anything, makes his blood freeze in his veins.

- He can already tell that when he allows that news to settle, it’s going to hit like a bombshell, but he can’t do that in front of Shouto, so he pushes it to the back of his mind for now until he can handle it later and instead tries to focus on the subjects that he thinks can be safely discussed.

- Todoroki just nods, seemingly spent on this whole ordeal as well, and also not really knowing what to do with it.

- “I’d had some suspicions,” He admits softly, fiddling with his hands, “But I didn’t want to think on them too closely or get my hopes up- he was dead, or supposed to be anyway. And then that patrol happened, and… I don’t remember much of him, really. The memories are all hazy. I was so young- but he used to call me Sho as a nickname when we were kids. When he ran out in front of me though, I…”

- “You remembered it wasn’t the first time.” Hawks concludes, and Shouto nods again, his shoulders slumping.

- “It was exactly the same,” He murmurs softly, “And it just… Triggered memories of all of these things I’d forgotten, but now they’re all coming back, and I don’t-” He sighs in frustration, taking a deep breath to rein in his thoughts, “I don’t know what to do because he’s not dead anymore, but at the same time, I’m not sure that he’s really alive either. That part of him that I knew might be gone entirely- I’m willing to believe that his actions during our patrol were out of memory reflex more than anything.”

- But Hawks is already thinking about all of those times that Dabi has helped Toga arrange her hair into buns when it’s being too stubborn, and the almost-petty sibling banter he slings back and forth with Shigaraki sometimes just to get a rise out of him. There are other habits too, just little things here and there, but the more Hawks imagines Dabi being a former sibling, the more connections he sees.

- They clean up their dishes quietly, dirty laundry aired, secrets hanging heavy. Before they leave, though, Hawks turns back to Todoroki one last time.

- “You know I can’t bring him back, right?”

- It’s a harsh reality, but a very real one. Quite frankly, Hawks suspects that there’s a lot of the person Todoroki remembers in this new Dabi figure, but no matter how much of that remains, no matter how many different and surprising and kind, soft, gentle, loyal angles Dabi has, it doesn’t change the fact that he is first and foremost a villain. That takes precedence over anything, and there’s really no turning back from it, not now, and not after the extent he’s gone to. Shouto nods, hair falling in his face, though Hawks can see through the fringe that his eyes are clear. There’s no judgement, no upset. He’s more than aware, and something in Hawks’ chest twinges again at how quickly this child had to grow up, seeing the world with such adult eyes.

- There’s something else still tickling the back of his mind, and at first he hesitates to ask it. Shouto’s been through enough today as it is, and he doesn’t want to push too far, but at the same time, he’s dying to know. There’s this sense in him that it’s probably important, and Hawks has long ago learned better than to ignore his gut.

- “One more thing- what did you say to him that day? Right before he ran?”

- Shouto’s hand freezes on the doorknob, literally freezes on the doorknob, ice crawling over his fingers. For a second, Hawks is considering apologizing and moving on, afraid that he’s overstepped a boundary. But then Shouto’s grip on the handle eases, and the ice crackles and falls away from his hand, falling to melt in the fibres of the carpet underfoot.

- “Touya. I called him Touya.”

- They leave the room and don’t look back.

_______________________________________________

- Hawks walks Shouto back to class, only to pull Eraserhead outside for a moment and explain nothing more into the situation than that the youngest Todoroki experienced some stressful things during their last patrol, and that after their discussion that morning, it probably wouldn’t hurt to have him take the rest of the day off just to recuperate a little.

- And with any of the other teachers, he might have been hit with a hardass no, but this is Shouta Aizawa, and if there’s anything that man cares more about than cats, coffee, and the occasional witty remark, it’s rest and his students. As much as he likes to deny it, he keeps a better eye on those kids than they know, and he’s caught Todoroki acting a bit more reserved than normal, less concentrated. He nods slowly, dismisses Hawks with a casual comment about wasting his time, and goes to fetch Shouto from the classroom again.

- The winged hero leaves to the sound of Aizawa telling Shouto that he’ll get a notes package done up for him for the day, and to go rest. There’s some muffled arguing before the older man makes some statement about mental health that effectively shuts Shouto up and sends him back in the direction of the dorms, Hawks grinning to himself the whole way down the hall, until he can no longer hear the two. Shouto Todoroki has had one hell of a life, that much is certain, but nobody can deny that he’s in good hands now and that itself is a relief beyond words.

- That being said, it takes all of ten seconds upon returning home to his apartment and getting the door shut behind him, before Keigo Takami all but collapses on the hardwood and begins to sob. Once the tears start flowing they just won’t stop, and there’s this kind of warm, gentle light streaming in through the floor-to-ceiling-windows that seems to just encourage the outpour even more.

- Were anyone to see him at that exact moment, they’d probably think it made an interesting picture, the Number Two hero weeping on his knees, wings spread about him like some kind of devastated creature of God, light pouring down his shoulders and face as though his halo had melted and dripped like tear stains over his skin. There’s this burning, raw sensation inside him that just won’t ease, and as he lies there, a crumbled statue of a once proud Icarus, he lets the truth rage over him like wildfire, lets the heat of it all melt the wax and burn the feathers, and feels it pull him into a drop he’s not sure how to recover from, or if he ever will.

- There’s this war raging inside him on how to feel, a million emotions crushing his chest all at once. The first that hits him is disgust, disgust for this man that he had looked up to for so long, who had been a hero to him even when he’d had nothing, nobody, not even a dream. He had put so much faith in him, had defended him at every turn, had stood by him as a colleague, watched his back, taken wounds to keep him safe. This was the man he’d bled for, if he deserved to be called a man at all.

- But the emotions that follow after this are so rapid-fire, they’re almost impossible to keep track of, aside from the pain- the pain lingers and grows, makes itself known in every damned crevice of his being. There’s betrayal, both to the person he is now, and to the young child who’d cheered the fire hero on, who he’d wanted to impress so badly. There’s sadness for the world he thought he knew, for the person he thought he knew, and all of that being stripped away to reveal something so much more grim and ugly. Grief for the loss, mourning for the death of something he’d seen as a foundation to his person, the pain so strong throughout.

- One of the worst, though, is the anger. When the anger arrives, it isn’t in a gradual wave like the other feelings had been, full of upset and still-numb disbelief. When the anger arrives, it is as a battering ram of rage that burns so fiercely in his core, he wants to scream. Rage for Shouto Todoroki, rage for Rei Todoroki, rage for Fuyumi and Natsuo, and damn it all, blistering, agonizing rage for Touya Todoroki and the unjust cards he was dealt. When the anger arrives, it’s with the passion of a man who has longed for family his whole life, and can’t imagine how an individual could so carelessly ruin what another would die for.

- When the anger arrives it stays, and it leaves Hawks trembling on the floor long after the tears have stopped rolling, after the damp spots on his cheeks have dried, after the pain has stopped clawing at his throat, and taken up permanent residence in his heart instead.

- And that’s how Dabi finds him three hours later as night starts setting in, and the light from the windows has faded, the warmth in the floorboards gone. Hawks is so out of it, so physically and emotionally exhausted, that he doesn’t even hear him come in, only notices him when the tall man crouches down in his line of vision, concernedly snapping his fingers in his face.

- Somehow the sight of him just manages to drive the knife in deeper, and he has to take a deep breath to keep his composure. Dabi’s eyebrows are drawn together in worry at the scene, hands beginning to rapidly check him all over for wounds of some kind before Hawks weakly bats his hands away, protesting. The cremation villain sits back on his heels, unimpressed, and flicks the other man’s forehead.

- “I’ve been trying to get a hold of you all afternoon- why weren’t you picking up your phone, dumbass? I thought something must have happened.”

- The irritation in his voice thinly covers his relief, and Hawks can only manage to blink up at him once or twice before clenching his eyes shut altogether. He doesn’t mention that Dabi hasn’t responded to any of his messages until today either, figures a fight isn’t what either of them need right now.

- “I talked to Shouto today,” He says quietly, voice so hoarse from crying, it’s almost hard to listen to. Dabi stiffens, but doesn’t turn away or make a sound, so Hawks continues, “He told me… Everything. Everything that happened, everything that that bastard did,” Hawks takes another steadying breath, choosing not to look Dabi in the eye for this part, “He knows who you are- I know about that part too. And that’s fine, really, it is; I won’t call you by that name or anything if you don’t want me to. I just… I can’t believe that I looked up to him so long, and he was doing all of this and nobody knew-

- And suddenly it’s all spilling out all over again, and there are more tears, but much less than last time, a slow and steady trickle compared to the earlier downpour. Dabi doesn’t do anything but listen as the minutes pass, as the sky grows steadily darker and they’re left in the kitchen with no lights on, almost silhouettes in the room. Somehow, it feels comforting- Dabi has a way of making shadows feel less like threats and more like hiding places, and Hawks has never felt it more strongly than now.

- But it isn’t until he’s done his tirade that he realizes his most crucial mistake- that in confessing all of this, he’s just botched his own story of being done with the hero world, the lies that he’d given Dabi when they first met. He’s just outed himself as a turncoat. And not only that, he’s just outed himself as a turncoat to a villain who is still kneeling over him in a dark room, and who would have literally nothing stopping him from crisping the winged hero right there, not even Hawks himself. Fast as he is, he doesn’t think his reflexes will save him quickly enough in this state, and all it will take for him to be completely defenseless would be Dabi moving his hands an inch or two forward to light his wings on fire, exposed as they currently are.

- He can feel the panic building in his chest as Dabi stays silent, breathing picking up a few notches before he’s suddenly scrambling to get into a less vulnerable position, trying to make out Dabi’s expression in the dark. Maybe if he can get out a window fast enough, he’ll be able to catch a draft and soar out of the way- it’s his best bet, but the kitchen island is against his back now because he scooted too far back, and there’s no way for him to get to a window without either getting through Dabi or-

- The panic attack that he was feeling earlier decides to kick in at this exact moment, and that’s when Hawks realizes that if Dabi wants him dead, he’s dying in this room. All of his instincts and nerves are shot, he has no sense of coordination, he can’t see, the dark no longer feels safe-

- The lights come on, and Hawks glances up sharply from his position against the island to see Dabi with his hand still on the lightswitch, expression hard to read, but not the crazed, maniacal look Hawks would have expected to receive if the villain were planning to outright kill him. He watches as the other man slowly walks forward, gaze locked, until he kneels so closely on the floor in front of him that if Hawks so much as slid his knees a centimetre forward, they’d be hitting Dabi in the chest.

- His heart is hammering so fast, he’s sure he’ll either hyperventilate or pass out at any given second, body trembling, brain unable to focus. He manages to force his eyes closed as Dabi extends a hand out, certain that he’ll be feeling those blue flames crawling his skin the second they get close enough to burn. The flames never come.

- Dabi’s fingers trail across his temple, brushing back a few strands of sweaty hair, before going to cup his cheek entirely. The action is so uncharacteristically tender that it causes Hawks’ eyes to flash open again, the scarred man looking at him with intent eyes.

- “Take a few deep breaths, pretty bird.” He says calmly, not even flinching when Hawks’ hand comes up to clench hard on the patchwork man’s bicep.

- “You took all of that info rather well,” Hawks states, almost accusingly, through gritted teeth. His breathing is starting to slow, heartbeat becoming less erratic, though Dabi’s sudden smirk isn’t helping anything.

- “I’ve known that you weren’t legit from the first day,” He scoffs, looking a touch of smug, but also somewhat offended, “Give me more credit than that, sweetheart. This isn’t news.”

- The simple, familiar arrogance of it all forces a sharp laugh from Hawks’ throat, and against all odds he can feel the adrenaline draining from his system, beginning to relax again.

- “You’re such an asshole, you know that?” Said with a tired grin. ‘I’m relieved this one corner of my world isn’t crumbling down too.’

- “Only time you’ll catch me alive saying guilty as charged.” Said with a smile as crooked as a broken law. ‘I’m not going anywhere.’

- They wait like that just a few minutes longer, listening to the hum of the overhead lights, nothing needing to be said for those moments at least. Then, once Hawks has calmed down enough to relocate, they move to the couch.

- “So,” Dabi is the one to begin this time, throwing his lanky form across the whole sofa and stretching out well enough across it that his head can rest on one of the arms, his ankles dangling off the other. “You know about my shitty childhood. I`d rather not talk about that any more tonight, honestly.”

- Hawks, appreciative that he seems to be willing to let to matter of the anxiety attack drop completely, chooses to take a seat on the middle cushion, leaning back against Dabi’s hip as a support and letting his wings fall over the back of the sofa and behind it. The longest feathers drag on the floor from this height, and Dabi watches for a second as Hawks flares them temporarily to adjust his wings in a better position before continuing. “And I know about you not being true to the League. Anything else you’d care to hash out while we’re in the sharing mood?”

- “Yeah, actually,” Hawks shoots him a look and raises an eyebrow, “If you knew I was lying, why the hell did you keep me around?”

- Dabi goes entirely still, one hand subconsciously draping across his chest, and Hawks remembers the comment Shouto made earlier about the necklace. He wonders if the villain is reaching for it now.

- “You don’t ease into anything, do you?” He asks eventually with a chuckle, Hawks’ answering grin speaking for itself. “Alright, it’s… I guess, you know when you’re in a deep body of water and your head goes under, and it kind of hits you that you could drown there? And the first thing you do when you see it is reach for the light?” Hawks nods even though he’s always had an aversion to swimming due to the weight of his wings and has never been close enough to drowning to truly know. “It’s… Fuck, I’m trashing the hell out of this, but it’s like that. I could tell I was sinking, and I didn’t give a shit. And then you showed up, and I knew right off the bat that you were lying to my face, but for once, there’s this light right in front of me, close enough to reach for. I never really meant for it to be more than that.” He paused for a second before adding, “But there was something about the fact that you were batshit crazy enough to walk into the wolves’ den for your cause, and you just kept coming back. You had to know we’d figure it out eventually, and when we did you’d be done, but you kept trying anyway.” Dabi grins slightly, fingers definitely closing around the necklace this time, “That’s real hero shit. I’d spent so long hating all of them that I’d forgotten they weren’t all like the one I grew up with. And I can’t ever be like you, I’m not hero material, but… Reaching for that light here and here, it makes me feel like maybe I can be more than this someday.”

- He didn’t expect this kind of response. He didn’t expect this kind of honesty, barbless and vulnerable and kind. He didn’t really expect to find himself moving to straddle Dabi’s waist so he could be in a better position to kiss him, either, but that happens as well.

- Wordlessly, Hawks tugs Dabi’s hands from his necklace, and settles them on his hips, the winged hero pressing his own palms to either side of the villain’s scarred face, leaning forward to rest their foreheads together. He can feel Dabi’s breath against his mouth and cheeks as the other man lets out a soft exhale, his skin carrying that familiar slight chill that it always does, cooler still where his fingers rest on staples. He could stay in this forever, this moment, safe and sure and grounded. It isn’t until Dabi pulls away from him slightly to trace one hand down the curve of his wing and into his primary feathers that Hawks realizes that in his contentment he’s brought his wings up almost defensively, shielding them off from the rest of the world though there’s no one else around to see.

- “I used to hate the colour red.” Dabi murmurs, repeating the action once again, Hawks fluttering his wing against the fire-user’s calloused hand just to bring a smile to his face. That smile carries into the kiss Dabi pulls him in for an instant later. It isn’t their first kiss, not by a long shot, but there’s something more sweet and slow about this one, and it takes Hawks a second to realize that unlike the kisses they’ve shared in the past, this one isn’t laced with the premonition of an ending. Usually, there’s this sort of rushed tension in their more intimate moments, an unspoken understanding that whatever this thing they have is, it can only last so long. But that’s missing this time, the overlying pressure of awareness, of only whispering things that won’t break your heart later, of never knowing when each embrace might be the last and being prepared to cut your losses if it is. This time is different, sanguine, and Hawks suddenly gets the feeling that things are about to change.

- He isn’t wrong.

- “What if you joined us for real?” Dabi breathes, eyes hooded as they draw apart but still lingering close. Catching Hawks’ incredulous look, he runs his hands up the other man’s arms, taking on a more serious tone. “I mean it. We can get you out from under the Commission- they’d never be able to touch you again. You want a world where heroes have more spare time on their hands than they know what to do with? That’s never going to be a possibility the way things are now. Most of the groups and agencies are corrupt over the profitability of it all, and there’s a lot of heroes in the same boat. Believe me, birdie, they don’t want the crime rate going down- they just want it televised.”

- Hawks knows it’s true- Dabi isn’t just saying this to sway him. The winged hero has seen this firsthand. There are heroes out there who would sooner go into a situation after a disaster has already happened rather than stopping it before anyone can get hurt, because it’s flashier. It’s more likely to gain attention, even if it means innocents being injured or, hell, dying in the process. And there’s all the other stuff too- the notices they get at the beginning of each new year, informing them that if they save ‘x’ number of people from various minority groups, there will be a bonus payout for them by the end of the year, as diversity is good for their public image. Hawks always threw those papers away, but there were some who held onto them, kept a tally going. There are heroes who are only on the field for the money, who couldn’t care less about the people they’re saving so long as there’s a cheque at the end of it with their name on it. Hawks has even heard of a few cases where heroes staged or set up disasters and accidents to be noticed. There’s the Commission, literally grooming child soldiers and people like Endeavor who wear two faces to hide a darker truth from the public eye.

- For an organization made to help, the hero collective is a dog-eats-dog world, and it’s ruthless. Dabi’s right about Hawks’ dream being impossible- because as long as people are profiting off crime, they’ll never allow it to stop.

- Suddenly, all Hawks wants to do is sleep, cut the nightmare short and try to let himself catch up with the feeling of free-falling. He can’t go back to working beside Endeavor like nothing’s happened, he knows that. And to make matters worse, he told Shouto he wouldn’t tell anyone about this though he desperately knows he should, but at this rate he’s not sure it wouldn’t do more harm than good. There may be a time later in the future where the truth can be revealed without completely annihilating the small, fragile, bright world that the youngest Todoroki has been slowly building for himself, but to have the public come after him over something this big, demanding answers and surrounding him at all times… He can’t handle that yet, and Hawks can tell. Someday, but not yet.

- “And after you dismantle the system? What happens then?” Hawks asks quietly, noting the surprised flicker behind Dabi’s blue eyes. He hadn’t been expecting him to entertain this idea.

- “Hey, my job’s just to burn it to the ground,” Dabi snorts, nonchalant, but his hands stop moving up and down Hawks’ arms, and loosely circle his wrists, “I think I’ll leave the rebuilding to those of you who will do it right. Let the real heroes take care of the hero world, and maybe everything else will settle too. Maybe things can be better- and who knows,” He puts on a smirk, “Maybe the heroes will find they’ve got some spare time on their hands, just like you said.”

- Hawks considers this, nods once, makes up his mind and goes ‘fuck it’ while cutting his losses.

- “Fine.”

- Dabi freezes under him, confident look replaced by something much more comical.

- “What?”

- “Fine, I’m in.” Dabi goes to say something about considering options for more than three seconds, but Hawks cuts him off. “No, I’m serious. Things need to change, and that’s not going to happen with the way everything’s going now. I’m a hero because I want to help people, not because I have a license, and damn it there are more people I can help by fighting against the hero track than on it, which is really fucked up in itself. I’m in, and I’m saying that while I’m pissed off and bitter enough to go through with it because for fuck’s sake I can’t keep going back to that place and letting them wring me out until I’m dead. None of this is normal or okay, and I can’t keep pretending that it is. I need to do something.”

- The fire-user just stares at him awestruck throughout all this, and for a long while afterwards too, before eventually sitting up.

- “You’re certain?”

- “Yes.”

- “…Damn it, pigeon, what the hell am I going to do with you?”

- Hawks laughs at the weak pet name even as Dabi cups his face and pulls him in for another kiss, the blond’s laughter spilling out across their lips, fingers carding through Dabi’s hair. It’s a bright moment to end a dark day, something hopeful amid the tentative nature of something new.

- “We’re never rushing this again.” Hawks grins when they both need to take a breath, that warm embrace of security and peace having returned to him once more, settling in his chest and radiating so strongly he’s surprised he’s not glowing. Dabi hums in response, turquoise eyes mostly closed as he leans down to dust a kiss on the other’s collarbone, almost painfully slow as if to prove a point.

- “We won’t have to.” He promises, chuckling lowly at the slight gasp he receives for turning the kiss into a nip, “Welcome to the dark side, birdie.”

#BNHA Headcanons #bnha requests #dabihawks #dabihawks requests #dabihawks headcanons #bnha #mha #mha headcanons #mha requests

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a-septic-mind · 5 years ago

Text

NSIDE CHAPTER TWO

Neglect

To leave undone or unattended to, especially through carelessness

April 2017- LATER THAT SAME DAY

“Three...two...one…* clap *

“ TOP OF THE MORNING TO YA LADDIES MY NAME IS JACKSEPTICEYE and welcome to a little game called Infinity Inc!”

Chase looked up from his phone as Jack’s intro rang through the Hub like it had been played on a loudspeaker. Marvin was at the “controls”, watching through Jack’s eyes as he usually did when they recorded. The doctor had moved away to a desk that he had manifested on the other side of the room, and was typing away on a computer, muttering to himself. Chase noted that he seemed to do that a lot.

Stretching, Chase got up off the couch and walked up behind Marvin. Jack was playing one of those pixelated side-scroller games- this one involving cloning or something like that.

“HEADS UP!”

Chase and Marvin whirled around just in time to see Jackieboy come barreling into the Hub from his room. His hood was down and it was one of those rare occurrences where Chase realized he wasn’t wearing his mask. Probably because it was currently being held in the tail of a small green eyeball that made a circle around the room and stopped in the middle, wiggling it’s tiny body playfully.

“Sam, give it back !” Jackie tried to say sternly, but it was ruined by a laugh. Sam scrunched up, not unlike a cat about to pounce and waved the mask in Jackie’s direction. Chase snorted.

“You little-! Comere!” Jackie lunged at Sam.

His hand barely missed the little septiceye, but his momentum carried him a little too far and he tripped over himself and landed facedown on the floor with a comical splat! Chase doubled over laughing as Sam landed contentedly on top of Jackie’s hair, pleased that he had won.

Jackie propped himself up on one arm, shooting a good-natured glare at Chase. “Haha very funny.” He commented dryly. He held out his hand and looked up at Sam. “Can I have that back please?”

Sam made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a giggle and dropped the stolen mask into the superego’s waiting hand. Jackie stood and pulled the mask back down over his eyes as Sam flew over to Chase. Chase held up a fist and Sam bumped into it in greeting.

“Nice one, little dude.” Chase laughed. Sam squeaked in response before making himself comfortable on the brim of Chase’s hat. Marvin glanced back and smirked as Jackie came up next to him.

“Bested by the evil septiceye once again.” He teased. Jackie shoved him playfully.

The three of them settled into a row and continued to watch Jack play. For a few seconds, everything was quiet except for the sound of Jack’s commentary- which of course wasn’t quiet at all- until Scheeplestein straightened up at the desk.

“Chase.” He said urgently. “Come here for a moment.”

Marvin raised an eyebrow and leaned over. “What did you do this time?” he whispered.

Chase sighed. “Who the fuck knows.” He muttered back before turning and walking towards the desk. “Sup Doc?”

Schneeplestein studied him for a moment, which as usual made Chase fidget a bit. Sam slid down off his hat and perched on his shoulder, returning the doctor's stare.

Schneeplestein finally relented. “I realized something today when I vas going over ze brain activity records for zis past week.” He waved his hand absently at the computer screen, which showed graphs and charts that Chase couldn’t begin to comprehend. “You haven’t manifested yet have you?”

“Oh…” Chase shoved his hands into his pockets. “Uh no, I guess I haven’t.”

Schneeplestein muttered something in German that sounded an awful lot like a curse. “I thought so.” He said, rubbing his temples. “Zis is not good.”

“We drank the last pot of coffee not good or last Halloween not good?” Chase joked. His smirk died however when Schneeplestein shot him a withering glare.

“Young man zis is serious. Manifestation is one of the key abilities you must learn if you’re going to be part of this subconscious. If you can’t make a physical form in the real world then you give up all possibilities of being able to take control should Sean need you to.”

“Right,” Chase muttered. “That’s important.”

“Incredibly important, I can’t believe we let you go this long without-” The doctor exhaled deeply before managing a tight-lipped smile. “It’s mostly my fault, so I will be teaching you.”

Chase felt his stomach sink. Schneeplestein had always been impatient with most everyone- he had recognized that the moment they’d met. He especially didn’t seem to appreciate Chase’s sense of humor. He couldn’t imagine any sort of scenario where this ended well, but he grinned anyway.

“Sounds great Doc. When do we start?”

—————

Jack, a moment, please.

Jack leaned back in his chair to stretch, mentally acknowledging the voice in the back of his mind. Adjusting his headphones, he continued to fiddle with the thumbnail he was making.

Yeah, Doc?

I wanted to let you know that I will be teaching Chase to manifest. I needed to confirm that you are alone this evening?

Jack snorted. Not the best way you could’ve put that Schneep.

You know vat I meant.

Yeah Doc, it’s just me tonight. And my lovely date Photoshop.

Excellent. Let me know if it starts becoming too much of a strain.

Will do. Good luck Chase.

There was a slight pressure in the back of his head as Chase acknowledged him- the mental equivalent of someone giving a thumbs up.

“Now Chase, ve will go step by step.” Schneeplestein began, turning to the younger ego. “Manifestation is relatively simple once you have mastered the steps, but you must be careful not to drain too much energy from Jack. Do you understand?”

Chase fixed his cap lower on his head. “Got it Doc. What’s first?”

“First you must tap into the core,” Schneep explained. “Your shard has an aura of sorts. You must connect zat aura with the aura of the core. Like plugging in a computer, zis will give you the strength needed to make a physical form.”

Chase frowned in thought as he tried to imagine what the doctor was saying. “So what I just….feel around?” He chuckled at his own joke. “Heh, get it? Feel-”

“Yes, yes I get it.” Schneeplestein cut him off. “While that’s not ze most elegant vay you could’ve put it, that’s mostly correct. Imagine your shard is like a magnet, let it point you towards the core.”

“Magnet...got it.” Chase closed his eyes. Concentrating hard, he focused in on the grey sliver that was his shard.

For a moment, it sat still, but Chase gave it a mental push and it suddenly spun on its axis. He felt a fluttering sensation in his chest as it searched- which was quickly replaced with a tugging feeling that nearly jerked him off his feet.

“Shit-!” Chase opened his eyes and stumbled. Schneeplestein caught his arm and straightened him again.

“What is that?” Chase gasped.

That’s me, Chase. Jack reassured him. Nice work. Chase grinned as Schneeplestein nodded.

“Vell done.” the doctor said. “Now, zat you have ze connection, you must use it to pull yourself into the physical world.”

Chase’s smile fell a little. “You make it sound so easy Doc.”

Schneep narrowed his eyes. “It vill be easy, once you’ve practiced enough. Now, maintaining a physical form is easy, creating one is ze hard part. Everyone has their own ways of helping themselves form but my first suggestion would perhaps be a running start.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Not at all. The barrier between ze mind and ze real world is simply a doorway that you must pass through.” Schneep moved aside and put his hands behind his back. “You may start ven you’re ready.”

Chase tilted his head. “I don’t even get a demonstration?” He chided.

“I believe in hands-on learning.”

Chase rolled his eyes but didn’t argue any further. Taking a deep breath, he backed up a few steps and then sprinted towards the other end of the Hub. His shard spun like a top in his chest as he felt the air shift around him.

Suddenly, the shard stopped spinning and the tugging force pulled away from him like a rubber band snapping back on itself. Chase yelped as he felt an invisible force hit him in the gut. Doubling over, he dropped to his knees in pain and the connection was severed.

Schneeplestein shook his head. “No no no.” he chided striding up to Chase. “You need to maintain the bond with the core.”

Chase huffed. “I thought I did .”

“Vell obviously not.” Schneeplestein grabbed his arm and pulled him back up. “Again. And this time don’t let go.”

Chase sighed. It was going to be a long night.

—————

Chase was frustrated. He and Schneeplestein had been at the manifestation lesson for hours. Days? He didn’t know anymore. All he knew was that he was tired and Schneeplestein was starting to get on his last nerve .

“Again.” The doctor said after what seemed like his millionth failed attempt. “You need to concentrate Chase.”

Chase huffed. “I’m trying .” He snapped.

“Vell try harder .”

Chase gritted his teeth and bit back a retort. Not worth it. He told himself.

Still, he really wanted to wipe that condescending glare of Schneep’s face.

He could easily connect with Jack’s shard now. It was the actual manifestation part that just wasn’t happening. Jack, for all it was worth, had been extremely patient throughout.

Chase connected again and this time backed up completely so that he was pressed against the farthest wall. Schneeplestein simply stared at him as he pulled his hat down.

Concentrate Chase. He told himself.

Three...

Two...

One...

Go!

And he took off.

He nearly made it all the way to the far end of the Hub before the connection snapped again. This time, it was like he had smacked into a concrete wall. A strong force hit him hard, making him stumble backward and land hard on his back.

“Fuck it!” Chase groaned as Schneep came up behind him. The doctor was frowning, but his face revealed nothing.

“Again.” He said, grabbing Chase’s arm to pull him up. Chase shoved him away.

“Forget it Doc, I’m done.”

Schneep pressed his lips together. “Chase zis is not one of your silly trick shots, zis is a skill that you-”

“I don’t fucking care Schneep! I said I’m done!”

A silence stretched between them as Chase glared at the ground. When he finally looked up, the doctor was staring hard enough that Chase was sure he was going to burn a hole in the floor.

“Fine,” Schneeplestein said, rubbing his temples and turning away. “Just go.”

Gritting his teeth, Chase got to his feet as the doctor stalked off. Digging into his pocket, he fumbled angrily for his phone and earbuds as he headed for his room. He didn’t even look up until he ran headfirst into someone else.

“Hey now!” Jackie laughed and steadied the younger Ego as he stumbled. “Where’s the fire Loser?”

Chase shrugged, not acknowledging the nickname. “Doc said we were done for the day,” he muttered.

Jackie raised an eyebrow. Chase shook his head and pushed past him. “It’s nothing man,” he insisted, putting in his earbuds, “just Henrik being Henrik.”

He opened the door to his room and flicked on the light. He would be the first to admit that he might have gone overboard when Jackie and Marvin showed him how to create his own headspace, but he was proud of the results. Everything from the skateboards mounted on the far wall to the unmade queen-sized bed was his and his alone. He couldn’t say that about many things.

Pulling off his cap, he ruffled his hair and threw himself on the double bed, rousing a sleeping Sam who had been curled up on one of the pillows. Chase stared at the ceiling, letting his legs hang off the side. He was so fucking tired- he wanted to blink out of existence for a few days.

“Chase.”

He looked up. Jackie was standing in the doorway with his arms crossed, staring at him. Chase groaned and flopped back down.

“Am I gonna get a lecture from you too?” he snapped. “I get it, I need to learn. He doesn’t have to be a dick about it.”

Jackie snorted and put down his hood before walking over to sit down on the edge of the bed. “Schneep isn’t the best teacher,” he began, “but he’s had more practice, so he knows what he’s doing.”

Chase gave a sarcastic thumbs-up while staring at the ceiling. “Awesome. Ten out of ten. That makes everything better.”

“Look, as bad as it sounds, I’m actually glad he's teaching you.”

Chase lifted his head to stare at him. “ Why? ”

“Because that means things are getting back to normal.”

Chase pressed his lips together in frustration. Of course, no matter what was going on it all came back to that. Back to Halloween. He rolled over and pressed his face into the pillows with a huff. He could feel Sam nudging his cheek gently.

“Give it a few weeks,” Jackie promised. “I think moving will be good for all of us. Especially the doc.”

He stood up as Chase rolled back around. “I’ll leave you alone now.” He smiled before shifting his attention and adding, “don’t let him mope around for too long Sammy.”

Sam gave a mock salute with his tail. Chase snorted. “Thanks, Jackie.”

“Just doing my job.” Jackie winked and struck a heroic pose. “Jackieboy-Man away!”

The superego ran off, making whoosh noises with his mouth. Chase laughed as Sam jumped onto his chest and turned in a circle, bunching up the fabric of his shirt into a bed that he curled up into. Chase absent-mindedly stroked the little mascot as he thought.

He understood why Schneeplestin was worried, everything he remembered about last Halloween was not pleasant in the slightest. Feelings of fear and pain that had lasted for hours.

Still, he couldn’t help but think that everything felt fine now. He didn’t notice any difference in Sean. Schneeplestein was just probably just paranoid even though he admitted that there hadn’t been any problems since March. And even then that had been more of a video hijack done by whatever that thing was.

Jack was healing up just fine.

So really, how bad could it be?

Tag List: @isa-ghost @mini-hero-rena @immabethehero

#jse inside #henrik von schneeplestein #jackieboyman #chase brody #septiceye sam #jacksepticeye

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do-not-call-me-meathead · 5 years ago

Text

aposiopesis (part 6)

My Orphan Black fic on AO3

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 7

@agoddamnsupernova

“Oi, sleepyheads,” Felix shouted as he blasted the door open with as much extravagance as he could muster.

Cosima and Sarah didn’t have time to jump away from each other. He saw them. Cosima’s leg over Sarah’s, the punk’s hand under Cosima’s shirt, both of them curled up so close that limbs were hard to tell apart (not just because their limbs were identical).

“Felix!” Sarah shouted and threw a pillow angrily at her brother. “Maybe a bit more warnin’ next time, yeah? Maybe a few knocks? Like a normal person.”

Felix put his hands on his hips and looked back and forth between the clones. “Next time put a sock on the door.”

“Piss off, Fee,” Sarah replied with a roll of her eyes. “What time is it?”

“Time for Kira and Charlotte to go. Arthur’s here and lookin’ like a snack. And time for everyone else to help me set up the art show. I need all hands on deck.”

Cosima wasn’t surprised by Sarah’s negative reaction to him mentioning the art show. She had heard Sarah complain about it to Art last night. She was happy for her brother, but she thought this was the worst timing.

“Yeah, a’right. We’ll be there in a sec.”

Felix locked eyes with Cosima before he left. The stare looked like he was trying to say: I hope you know what you’re doing.

“Felix has mastered walkin’ in on people, me specifically,” Sarah grumbled as she got up from the bed and put her hair up into a high messy bun that Cosima didn’t think she had ever seen before. Cosima tried to not gawk.

“Oi, voyeur, let’s go.”

...........

After washing up in the bathroom, Cosima headed for the kitchen where she heard what sounded like angry whispers. Something about it made Cosima stay back and listen.

“Fee,” Sarah groaned with what sounded like frustration. “Don’t.”

“You know how I feel about this, Sarah. It’s not healthy. You can’t keep doin’ this to yourself.”

“Doin’ what?” Sarah growled.

Felix sighed. “You feel something that she doesn’t feel. She’s with Delphine, darling.”

“I know, Fee. I know.”

At the end of their conversation, Cosima gulped. She wanted Sarah to argue. She wanted her to tell Felix that it wasn’t one-sided. That Cosima felt something too. But she didn’t. She didn’t know if Sarah believed her or not. But then again, she couldn’t forget that Delphine was in the equation. Cosima groaned. She hated being in this confusing position.

“Hey guys,” Cosima greeted loudly as she approached the siblings. She tried to ignore the fact that Sarah was just staring at her cup of tea. “Scott’s going to pick me up in a few minutes so we can develop more doses of the cure. But we will definitely be there for your art show, Felix.”

Felix smiled at her, though it seemed more forced than normal. “You better be there, darling. Alison and Donnie are setting up my loft right now. I’m avoiding their inevitable bickering.”

Sarah shrugged. “Maybe Alison won’t be controllin’ now that she’s all zen and shite.”

The two foster siblings stared at each other and then immediately broke out into rounds of laughter that even made Cosima chuckle a little.

“With all the illegal drugs you three have done, let’s cut her a little bit of slack about how she deals with her own addiction,” S stated wisely as she entered the kitchen, looking put together and beautiful as always. “Mornin’, chickens.”

Both Felix and Sarah grumbled in reply. Cosima knew they all smoked joints, but the looks on their faces made it seem like there were worse problems than just a little bit of pot.

“Good morning, Siobhan,” Cosima told her with a smile, still forever grateful the woman hadn’t hated her for what happened to her mother.

“Sleep well, Cosima? Sarah used to complain all the time about her terrible bed. I’ve never been able to ask someone about it since all of her nighttime visitors usually scattered by the morning.”

“Oh my god, S!” Sarah jumped up out of her chair and gaped at her foster mom.

Siobhan put her hands up in the air. “I wasn’t the one who had them over. So, Cosima. What’s the verdict?”

Cosima noticed that Sarah was glaring at her and that S was grinning in return. This was obviously something that she shouldn’t have gotten herself into.

“Gosh, uh, can I be Switzerland?”

Felix chuckled. “Join the club, Cos. S first asked me when I was ten. Don’t worry about them. Besides, we got places to be. Do you think Scotty will drive me to my place?”

Cosima sighed. This was already going to be a very long day.

.......

They had the cure. Enough for more than one hundred people. But there was an obvious problem. They didn’t know more than a few clones and didn’t know how many there actually were on the planet.

“It won’t be impossible to find the others, I mean, right?” Scott asked her once he realized she was deep in thought. “Katja found Beth. Beth found you and Alison. I mean, Helena found… my point is, we can do this.”

“You think?”

“With your tenacity and my skills? Hell yeah. We have time, Cosima. To find everyone.”

Cosima bit her lip. “I know we do. But what about them?”

Scott sighed and shook his head. “All we can do is our best. I mean, that’s all anyone can do. Now, c’mon. Isn’t there a party for us to attend?”

Cosima grinned at him. She didn’t know what she would have done without Scott Smith.

..........

Dancing wasn’t how she expected the night to go. She thought about the night when she was really sick, what felt like eons ago, when she first danced with her sestras, and how she thought it would be her last. She didn’t think she would be here. Dancing as everyone watched her. Dancing like she was art herself.

Delphine was there, watching, smiling. Cosima was smiling too. There was something infectious about the blonde’s dimpled smile that made the scientist forget every bad thing that happened between them.

Delphine was still smiling when Cosima found her, slightly drunken by the dance, her head still spinning.

“You look beautiful,” Delphine stated in a voice that usually makes Cosima shudder. “Even more than usual.”

“Well, thank you. Not being deathly ill helps, ya know?”

Delphine chuckled. “You have always been beautiful to me, ma chérie. You look happy. Free.”

“I am. I don’t know if we’re quite free yet, but it feels that way. Sarah’s not convinced, but that’s Sarah.”

Delphine stopped smiling and frowned. “Sarah’s very intuitive.”

Cosima sighed. “I’m sorry I’m being so… annoying with the whole me and you thing. You deserve better.”

Delphine shook her head. “You deserve to understand your heart, Cosima. That is the most important thing. When I understood mine, understood my love and devotion for you, everything else made sense. I can wait.”

“I love you for that.” Cosima leaned in and kissed her before Felix pulled them apart.

“Clone swap. Sarah’s here.”

Cosima groaned. “Bummer. Do I have to leave?”

Felix rolled his eyes and tugged her arm. “For me, you will. So quit snogging and come on.”

“Wait, Cosima!” Delphine shouted and pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to her. “Siobhan asked me to give this to you.”

Cosima raised an eyebrow but didn’t think much of it. “Oh. Okay. I’ll see you later, Delphine.”

As Felix pulled her away, he muttered to her, “You two are cheeky. The ‘will they, won’t they’ thing is getting tiring though. Lesbians."

“Hey! Delphine’s bisexual! And you love me!” Cosima shouted when she was out the door.

“Of course I do, darling,” Felix replied with a toothy smile and blew her a kiss. “Send in Sarah.”

Cosima gave him a thumbs up and waited for Sarah to come up. She heard the punk’s footsteps and the sound of Adele’s constant jabbering.

“Sarah!” Cosima shouted once she saw the girl who didn’t look like she was attending an art show. “Felix is in there. He’s going to--”

“Have you seen S?” Sarah interrupted her, her eyes going back and forth like she was begging for something. Anything.

“No, but I--”

Sarah walked away with Adele mouthing apologies behind her. Cosima stood there and looked around. She was left alone.

.............

The Rabbit Hole was unusually quiet without anyone there. She thought about smoking a joint or going to sleep, but Delphine had appeared like a knight in shining armor, holding the proof to everything. The proof that could end everything.

“Loaded and ready to send to all the regulatory and oversight committees in the affected countries. As well as to old journalist friends of Siobhan at the guardian.”

“You guys did this for us.” It wasn’t a question. Cosima knew the answer. Everyone who had helped them along the way did it for them. Felix, Siobhan, Delphine, Scott, Art. The list only continued from there.

And more than that, it was Delphine who kept her promise in the end. She loved all of them. All the sestras. It made Cosima’s heart swell.

“You’re ready?”

“Just a second.”

Cosima stared at the screen and thought about freedom. About what she’d do with her freedom. How she would live without being property. Without being afraid or being sick or losing anyone else.

She turned to look at Delphine. Delphine. Who was here in this moment with her. Smiling, itching to press enter. Cosima loved her. It wasn’t a mundane kind of love that just anyone could find. It was the kind of beating love that had, at one point, felt alive.

Cosima gently used Delphine’s pointer finger to press enter. It submitted and the world felt like it dropped.

They laughed. They couldn’t imagine how it could all end with just the simple press of a button when everything else had been so difficult for them.

So difficult. For all of them. They lost Katja. Beth. Paul. MK. Kendall. Cosima cried. She wished that the dead could experience this moment with her. She wished that this had come sooner. Before anyone got kidnapped or got hurt or got murdered. She wished this submission turned back the time.

Delphine held her together. She promised her love and comfort and happiness. Cosima believed her. Despite not being able to always trust the blonde, she felt the words inside her bones. She was going to be okay.

When she pulled herself together, she remembered the note inside her pocket. Siobhan. Cosima knew that they wouldn’t have had this information if it hadn’t been for her. She opened it.

Cosima,

I never got to thank you for taking care of my Sarah. She’s a good girl but doesn’t know how to voice the things she wants. Protect her for me, will you? You have enough strength for both of you.

You are a bright woman, chicken. Always remember to see the light.

Siobhan.

Cosima stared at the elegant letters and felt her heart drop. There was something wrong with this letter. It seemed like a goodbye. Or an ending or…

Her phone rang. Felix.

.............

There was police tape in front of the house. It looked wrong there. Cops were exiting the house, but it seemed like Art was in charge. She exhaled with relief. Art was in charge.

“Cosima!” The detective called out and she ran toward him immediately. He looked angry and disheveled up close. “Keep your head down. Cops are all over the place. They just questioned Felix. They think it was a home invasion gone wrong. I’m going to make sure that’s what they keep thinking.”

“Who—?”

“Ferdinand. He’s also dead. The bodies are already out of the house but… Sarah hasn’t moved. Or said a thing. Or cried. Felix is the opposite. He’s also inside with Adele.”

Cosima wiped away the tears that were falling. “She did this for us, didn’t she?”

Art nodded almost stoically. “One of the bravest people I know. Look, I’d go see Sarah but--”

“No, you have enough to handle. I’ll call you if something changes.”

He nodded gratefully and walked away, commanding cops away from the premises. Art was trying to get outsiders as far away from the house as possible.

Cosima took a shaky breath and walked slowly toward the entrance of the house. She only had to knock on the door once for it to open. Felix stood there, his shirt soaked with tears, and pulled her into a hug as they both sobbed onto each other’s shoulders.

None of this felt real. They had lost people before, but she never thought they would lose S. Their rock. The woman who protected them and opened a whole family up to love.

“I’m so sorry,” Cosima repeated over and over again into Felix’s ear.

Once he pulled away and closed the door, he apologized. “We were supposed to vacate the house, but Art helped us out.”

“How’s Sarah?”

Felix looked far away. “I don’t know how much of Sarah is left.”

..................

“She screamed for a good long while when we first got here,” Felix explained as Adele put the mugs of tea in front of both of them. “She kept tryin’ to resuscitate her. They had to drag her away to get S’… Sarah hasn’t moved since.”

From her chair, Cosima stared at Sarah who was rocking slightly, her hands on her head and staring at the blood on the ground. She was covered with it herself.

“Have you called anyone else?”

“Alison. They’ll come round in the morning. Benjamin’s coming too. Said he wanted to… clean it all up. Delphine?”

“I told her to stay at the Rabbit Hole. She wanted to come with me but I thought…” Cosima felt like throwing up. “What happened?”

Felix gulped. “Guessin’ Ferdinand wasn’t too happy about us getting the file. I’m betting that Rachel used him.”

“Siobhan took a bullet for us.”

“You were her family,” Adele pointed out, less drunk than she was during the party. “Of course she did. God bless. What a woman.”

“What do we do about Sarah?”

Felix stared at his broken sister and muttered, “Who the bloody hell knows?”

.................

Cosima didn't remember much about the next few days.

What she did remember was staying up all night and hoping that Sarah would get up and go to sleep.

She remembered falling asleep on Felix’s shoulder and waking up to a bare floor and Sarah’s closed door.

She remembered getting up and bringing Sarah tea as Felix talked to people about a funeral and signing papers and the will.

She remembered seeing Benjamin and a bunch of men cleaning the floor.

She remembered Alison and Felix sobbing in the kitchen.

She remembered refusing to talk to Delphine, angry that Delphine hadn’t told anyone about their “deal” with Rachel and Ferdinand.

She remembered forcing Sarah to drink water and eat while trying to remember to do the same.

She remembered Felix’s frustration at his sister’s emptiness and trying to calm him down and remind him that grief hit people differently.

Sarah had only said two words before Kira came home. Two nights after Siobhan’s death, Cosima opened Sarah’s bedroom door and found the woman shivering under the covers. Without thinking, she crawled into the bed with her. She put her warm hands around her and pulled her close, hoping it would make Sarah feel alive again.

Cosima placed kisses on her cheeks, her forehead, her neck, her lips. She thought that Sarah would do something, anything. Even if it was a command for her to stop. And maybe, though Cosima wouldn’t want to admit it, she kissed her because she wanted the comfort too. She wanted the taste of Sarah’s skin on her lips. A reminder that she was alive too. Something.

She delicately held Sarah’s pointer finger and traced it over her tattoo and whispered to her the beauty of science, of the cycle of life and death.

“The shell was once inhabiting life, but it becomes empty It always does. To us, it’s more beautiful. Fossilized and demanding of our attention. The end isn’t always the end.”

She thought Sarah wasn’t listening. That was, until she said, “Thanks, ‘Sima.” It was the opposite of her usual nickname. She liked ‘Cos’ more.

But it Kira made her mom come back to life. Art brought her over and Felix and Adele had explained to the young girl about Siobhan’s death, about Sarah’s darkness. Kira cried into her uncle’s shirt but then pointed out how they needed to be strong for her mom.

“Monkey,” Sarah breathed out in a raspy voice after not using it for so long. “I’m so sorry, monkey.”

The two hugged for what seemed like hours. With Kira in her arms, Sarah was able to help Felix with the funeral and wake. They planned it quickly (decided on doing it the next day), not wanting to have to deal with it any longer. Cosima understood why she couldn’t be there, but it still hurt. She wanted to say goodbye to Siobhan and be there for Sarah.

“You can go back to the Rabbit Hole,” Felix whispered as the two of them watched Kira and Sarah fall asleep on the couch. His voice was colder than it had been. Like something has changed. “We’ve got this, now.”

“Felix…?”

He sat up straighter and turned to her. “You’re makin’ it worse. You know that, don’t you?”

Cosima didn’t know what he was talking about. “What?”

“Love, you don’t really think I don’t know what’s goin’ on, do you? What you’re doing in Sarah’s bedroom at night? You’re confusing her. Messing with her.”

Tears sprung to her eyes. “Fee…”

“You have Delphine. Your girlfriend. The French blonde that made you almost put a bleeding bot in your mouth. Don’t let Sarah think that she’s the only one that matters because we both know that’s not true.”

Shame radiated through Cosima’s body. He was right. She wasn’t being fair to Sarah or her feelings. Cosima felt something and as a scientist, she wanted to explore it. She didn’t even consider the possibility that Sarah… felt even a fraction of what she felt for her.

“I know. It’s complicated. It’s not… I love Delphine. But I feel something--”

“No.” Felix interrupted and put a hand on Cosima’s shoulder. “No, this is not the time, Cosima, for you to experiment with your feelings. Sarah’s a person, not a lab rat. And she’s already vulnerable. Don’t do this to her.”

Some crazy part of her thought Felix would understand. That all she’d have to do was explain that she felt something for both of them, while incredibly different, and wanted to understand both feelings.

Felix glowered at her. “I don’t want you to mess with her. Even if she wants it because I know she does. Unless you’re done with Delphine, like really done with her, I don’t want you to be snogging her, touching her. Got it?”

Cosima nodded. Felix was just trying to protect his sister and she understood that. And she knew that this was wrong and unfair to both Sarah and Delphine, but she couldn’t help her feelings. Not when they were this strong and overwhelming.

She agreed to put a halt on anything that could resemble romance with Sarah. She just didn’t know how long she could last with the pause.

-------------------

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