Obi-Wan is visited by someone he lost. Angst ensues.
The first time he comes, its five years into Obi-Wan’s exile on Tatooine. Outside his hovel, he can hear that something’s disturbed the Banthas and annoyed, they start to stomp and snort. He can feel someone’s presence outside the door, familiar yet not, twisted. So then, he’s been found. He’s not afraid of death, but he is afraid for Luke.
When he goes to the door, a familiar black figure awaits him, masked and massive.
“I’m not here to kill you,” it says, in that strange, altered voice he’s heard on vids in the cantina, the voice that haunts his waking and sleeping hours.
He leans against the doorway, toeing at the sand creeping inside. It’s a losing battle. “Aren’t you? Well maybe I should kill you. Though sadly, I’m out of practice.”
He’s tired. He doesn’t want this, though maybe a tiny part of him does. “What do you want from me then?”
The black figure crosses his arms about his chest. “I don’t know. I just wanted to see you again.”
“Well, here I am. You’ve seen me.”
“You look terrible.”
Obi-Wan starts to laugh, with more than a little hysteria. “Coming from you, Darth, really?”
“The Emperor told me you were dead. I didn’t believe him.”
“I’m not. Dead that is. Here I am.”
“No. I’m glad you’re not,” he says, then walks away.
Obi-Wan watches him until he’s a tiny speck on the horizon. He sits down on his bed and wonders if that was real.
The second time comes a few months later, as he’s tending to his broken vaporator. If he doesn’t fix it soon, he’ll die. He wouldn’t make it very far without water. Part of him can’t believe he let it get this bad, the other part understands.
He’s sweating, and his mouth feels like he ate one of his old tunics. It’s midday, and he shouldn’t be out, but has no choice. Something mercifully blocks the sun. Ah, it’s his old friend.
“Go inside, old man. I’ll fix it for you.”
He’s too far gone to question it and stumbles inside, falling onto the cool, sandy floor. What seems like seconds later, he hears heavy boots crunching in and something large standing over him. It hands him a mug of water and he drinks and drinks.
The third time its nightfall, and he sits atop a tall dune watching the thick spray of stars across the sky. Something comes up behind him. He doesn’t turn. He knows who it is.
The black figure sits down beside him and gently touches his thigh with a gloved hand. They sit for a moment, each lost in thought.
“I miss you,” the black figure says.
“Then why did you leave? Why did you leave me like this?”
“I could ask the same of you.”
Obi-Wan snorts. It is a reasonable comeback.
“We both got lost.”
“Yes.” He says and places a black arm around him. He’s surprisingly warm and not as hard as he expected. Obi-Wan leans in for the span of a breath and forgets his pain.
It may not be real, and he can’t quite tell, but for a moment he wishes it was.
Obikin Week 2k18 Day 2: (Prompts: Soulmates AU/Mythology AU) (Used the Soulmates prompt only)
Warnings: Heavy Angst, Obi-Wan’s Infinite Sadness, Bittersweet Ending
It was on Zygerria when Anakin first
caught a glimpse of the words across Obi-Wan’s back.
His former master knelt on the sand,
his tunics gone, his head bowed, hands bound, back already burned and
slashed.
But there, between the cuts and
bruises, ink-black words stood out stark and cold:
I hate you!
The last words
Obi-Wan would hear from his soulmate before death claimed one or the
other.
Anakin’s hand
trembled as he held the electrowhip, knowing the Queen expected him
to wound Obi-Wan further. He should probably enact some form of plan
now, to allow them to escape, but all he could focus on at the moment
was the small symbol beside the words.
Anakin’s blood ran
cold, his body froze, he couldn’t quite breathe.
What
have I done? What will I do?
What
could ever make Anakin
say such a thing to Obi-Wan?
A
soulmark was signed with a symbol that only its owner could
recognize. Anakin looked at it and knew it was him, Obi-Wan
must have peered at it in the mirror and wondered.
But
if this was the
case…
Then
the words, settled much lower on Anakin’s back, like a trampstamp of
calligraphy, would be what Obi-Wan said
to him in the end.
I
loved you.
The
sigil signing it lay a bit lower, just at the top of Anakin’s right
ass cheek, and Obi-Wan hadn’t seen it before,
though the soulmark itself had been plainly visible every time Anakin
peeled out of his shirt.
It was only during
the war, with Obi-Wan trying to bind a wound high up Anakin’s thigh,
that Obi-Wan had encountered the tiny signature symbol.
At
the time Anakin hadn’t tied it to
Obi-Wan’s startled recoil.
He’d thought the
wound must have been worse than they’d expected.
But
it didn’t take long to heal. Wasn’t near as bad as we’d feared. And if he bears my mark, then I bear his.
And Anakin only
had one soulmark on his body.
This meant Obi-Wan
bore three. Two faded into a painful silver, the beings connected to
them dead. One, long so, the other, much more recent.
He
will bring Balance. Train him,
whispered Qui-Gon’s, wrapped around Obi-Wan’s bicep like a chain. And
then the small, delicate script over his heart that had belonged to
Duchess Kryze: I have loved you always; I always will.
The eternal love
of a dead woman framed Obi-Wan’s heart from before, and Anakin’s
future hatred from behind, heart beating strong and resigned between
the two.
Anakin
felt as if he might unravel with how unfair that
was for Obi-Wan, as gentle and kind and decent a
person as Anakin knew—
And
who I will love, but only for a time.
Thankfully,
Ahsoka, Rex, and R2 took control of the situation, and the instant
Obi-Wan’s hands were free, he fought for them like a wildcat. Small,
scrappy, devastatingly lethal.
When they were
away from Zygerria and safe, Anakin stepped to Obi-Wan’s side and
placed his palm against Obi-Wan’s back, where bandages now hid the
words.
Obi-Wan’s
shoulders sagged and his head bowed.
“Why?” Anakin
whispered. “Why were you bestowed the gift of being loved by three
different people, only to be condemned to suffer heartbreak every
time?”
Obi-Wan’s head
came up, his gaze swift finding Anakin’s.
A gentle smile
touched Obi-Wan’s lips. “The Force has chosen me for suffering. I
don’t know why.”
Anakin’s throat
closed up and his face crumpled.
“Do not grieve,”
Obi-Wan whispered, turning to face him and reaching up to touch
Anakin’s cheek with a gentle fingertip. “My love for you will not
falter. It will consume my final, dying breath.”
Anakin’s eyes
blurred with tears. “Why do you think your death is the one that
will separate us?” “Whatever I will have done to make you
hate me…” a tear trembled on Obi-Wan’s lash. “In a battle
between you and me, I would not be the one to survive. Whatever
terrible thing I do in the future, you will kill me. I do not think I
will hold it against you. It is a whisper that has settled heavily
around my heart for some time now.”
Anakin
stared at him, feeling his own heart break, and sensing Obi-Wan’s had already. He knew
months ago, and still he met Anakin with a cheerful smile in the
mornings, and still he claimed what moments of light they might be
offered in this mad, terrible universe.
Anakin drew the
smaller man into his arms, careful of the terrible wounds a short
time in slavery had wrought upon Obi-Wan’s body.
To
promise I will never hurt him would be an obvious lie, given the
circumstances. But he couldn’t
stay quiet.
“When it
happens, and I say those terrible words—” Anakin’s voice failed
him, and he had to swallow hard to continue. “Hold on, Obi-Wan.
Wherever you go in the Force, I will return to you. The Force cannot
separate us again once we are part of it. So once death has claimed
you, you hold on, and you wait for me. I’ll come back.”
And twenty-four
years later…
Anakin Skywalker
did.
The End.
Is there a word for “And they found happiness as ghosts?” If there is, I probably should be told, so I can use it as a tag. Hm.
Chapters: 2/2 Fandom: Star Wars – All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) – All Media Types Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker Characters: Obi-Wan Kenobi, Anakin Skywalker, CT-6116 | Kix Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Major Injury, The Team™ are such danger magnets, Obi-Wan is a mess, Obi-Wan “lol what attachment?” Kenobi, First Kiss, Kix puts up with so much Series: Part 4 of 20 Days of Obikin Challenge Summary:
Day 1: “I’ve got you. Breathe, okay? I’ve got you.” & Day 19: First Kiss
Anakin gets injured and Obi-Wan does not handle it well.
It hasn’t even been a year since the Republic fell, but the new Galactic Empire already has made short work of spreading mayhem across the galaxy. Ahsoka Tano has had enough. She can’t believe her old Master is wholly evil, and she can’t believe there’s nothing that can be done. Ahsoka seeks out the one person who she thinks can help, but quickly realizes there’s more than one way to fall and that this is going to be much harder than she originally thought
At first, Hondo doesn’t believe anyone when they say that the Jedi have been killed. “I know the Jedi,” he laughs at one bartender. “Kenobi would never be so stupid. Killed by a bunch of clones? That would be the day.” He has respect for clones and their skill, but the idea was ridiculous. (Although he remembers that the Jedi trust too easily. Except Kenobi and Skywalker, they’re smart.) He does not listen. Florum doesn’t always get reliable news.
Then one day the small one, Ahsoka, appears at his compound. She’s less small now, taller and prettier and a lot less fun. “What are these rumors I hear about the Jedi?” Hondo laughs. Ahsoka isn’t dead – he knew it wouldn’t be true, that the Jedi were killed. “I keep telling people your kind are too clever to get themselves killed by their own army, eh?”
Ahsoka doesn’t look clever. She looks hurt, and lonely.
Hondo is too old and too tough to be pained by the look in her eyes. Certainly too tough. He is a pirate captain, a powerful leader of a rough crew. “It is… just a rumor, right, little Jedi?”
“I’m not a Jedi,” Ahsoka says, and it’s strange how dejected she sounds. She has never been the type to be depressed. “And it’s not a rumor.”
Hondo Ohnaka won’t deny a thrill of horror for what a galaxy without Jedi would mean. It’s not that he liked the Jedi. They got in his way. They were shiny, idealistic, and a little crazy. But they kept chaos at bay. A little chaos was good, but even Hondo couldn’t function when everything was bad.
He’s not sure, though, why he feels a little sick and choked, why his eyes suddenly flicker and he can’t trust himself to speak. He looks down and waves his hands a little. “Ah well, you can’t win all of them, Jedi.” Certainly he doesn’t miss Kenobi or Skywalker.
“You don’t fool me, Hondo,” Ahsoka says wearily, sitting down across from him on a stool and waving for a drink.
“Fool you? Come on, Ahsoka, when am I not honest?” Hondo was a great liar. But he was also truthful! Sometimes. Maybe not today.
One of his crew hands her a dirty mug full of a drink Hondo privately calls firegrease, and he almost warns her because that stuff is potent, but she downs it in a gulp, cringes, and tosses the mug back at his crewman for more. “Today you’re not, for one,” she says. She manages a smile and that looks more like her. It’s reassuring.
Not that Hondo needs reassurance, because he is fine. “How did they die, then? Not really the clones?”
“The clones.” Ahsoka shakes her head. “I don’t know why. Or how.”
“You Jedi – sorry, the Jedi, which you are not one of, are too trusting. Just because you have troops who seem to obey you doesn’t mean they’re loyal.” He nods meaningfully to his men. They betray him a lot. They aren’t like clones, of course, but still. He nods, swallows, looks around while Ahsoka gets her second mug of firegrease. Crazy Togruta. “Kenobi? Skywalker? Tell me they were smart.” Tell me they aren’t dead.
“Anakin is dead. I think he died protecting the Jedi younglings.”
Ah, children. Skywalker, for all his anger, was always soft. Hondo has to admit that he himself would risk more than he should for children. Strange how much his throat hurts, like he’s the one who’s now downed three (three? he should tell Ahsoka to stop) cups of firegrease. And his eyes sting. Maybe he has been drinking too much today.
“Kenobi?” he presses. He has always joked that he was friends with Kenobi. Good thing that isn’t true. He likes Kenobi, sure, but friends? Hardly.
“I think… I don’t know, I haven’t heard from anyone. But I think he’s dead, too.” Ah, kriff, is Ahsoka crying?
Hondo doesn’t understand why his chest suddenly tightens, why he has to look down and shake his head. He feels heavy and exhausted and older than he’s felt in a long time. It doesn’t make sense. Kenobi is just a Jedi who Hondo had always cheated and played games with.
Kenobi had also spared his life and actually been an entertaining conversationalist, a worthy opponent and a better ally.
Hondo isn’t soft, but he feels like he is, for a moment. It’s the way Ahsoka is crying and nursing her drink, the way someone so confident and fiery is now alone and tired. It’s the way the galaxy hasn’t felt right for a long time, even if he can’t admit it. It’s the way he suddenly remembers a wry smile, a cool voice, both infuriating and welcome, a blue saber and powers that are so strange but seem like they belong (even though he hates trying to fight Jedi, Jedi don’t fight fair).
He does not admit, then or ever, that he cries. He can feel liquid pooling against the rims of his goggles, but he will not say anything. Instead he loudly, gruffly clears his throat and stands, raucously clapping his hands and shouting, “Well, my old mother always said if something bad happens, drink your sorrows away and eat as much as you can! How about a feast then, little not-Jedi?”
Ahsoka slams her mug down on the counter, hard, and slides off her stool. “Sounds fine for you, Hondo, but I can’t stay. I just came to find out if I could trust you as a source of information. I have to hide, and I need someone I can trust.”
“And you think you can trust me?” Hondo laughs, but he knows (and she knows) that he would not give her up. Not to whoever killed all the Jedi, whoever killed Kenobi and Skywalker. He has always claimed some sort of honor, and this is no different. “Get out of here, Ahsoka.” He is more quiet then, taking her arm, leaning down. “You can trust me, but not my men. I will contact you, if you give me the means.”
Ahsoka nods and goes, leaving her mug and tucking her arms around her stomach. All of Hondo’s men know Ahsoka, know what she is. Once she is gone, he will convince them he’s told the ones who hunt her where she is. He will convince them that she’s dead.
Hondo Ohnaka lies a lot. But he is honest a lot, too. And today will be a day for both.
Like modern aus? Like nurse Anakin and writer Obi Wan? Like fluff with a side of angst? Like snacks? Like hippy dad Qui-Gon or mom-friend Satine? Stalker Sheev? Then look no more, dear friends. Given that it now has 4 fics and a length similar to the first Harry Potter book, I thought I’d make a master post for my obikin series, Start Again New. Who knows, maybe it will appeal to your fine sensibilities? Perhaps you’d like to take a chance?
Start Again New– longest and best. Probably. At least the longest. There is humor. There is sad. There are tacos and baked goods. Ahsoka has cameos. What more could you want?
Ben’s Birthday-self explanatory. There are cats. Mostly fluff.
Nobody Said It’d Be Easy– remains self explanatory. Kinda mean to Obi-Wan/Ben. Angst happens, but also, fluff. There is ice skating. Has the merit that its longer than the previous two. So.
Obi-Wan Kenobi was supposed to go to Mustafar and kill Anakin Skywalker.
That was his last mission given to him by Master Yoda and, on any other day, he would have obeyed. It would have fundamentally broken Obi-Wan, but he would have obeyed and trusted in the will of the Force.
But not today.
It was easy enough to sneak into the Senate building and to take out one of the Red Guards that were assigned to protect the Chancellor.
No. The Emperor.
It was also ridiculously easy to cloak himself in the Force, to let the faintest swirl of his own negative emotions block out the steady radiance that was his own presence. He simply hid in plain sight, just another angry soul in a building drowning in fury and hate. The whole building now reeked of the Dark Side, of the Sith, and the desperation of one young man trying to save his world from annihilation.
Later, Obi-Wan told himself, later he would try to untangle what he felt as he followed after the Red Guard.
He could sense the fight between Yoda and Palpatine and every Jedi instinct within him screamed at him to drop the charade and storm into the Senate Chamber and join the diminutive master in the fight.
But he didn’t.
He couldn’t.
Obi-Wan Kenobi was not there to fight a Sith Lord.
He was there to murder Sheev Palpatine, the man who had single-handedly destroyed everything that had ever been good in Obi-Wan’s life.
After that, he was going to Mandalore to pick up Ahsoka and whoever else he could find. The Jedi would not die out while he was alive. They would find a way.
They had to.
Obi-Wan and his fellow Red Guards stood in silence as he watched the battle in the Force, as the Light slowly fell back before the Darkness. He could almost see it, dripping little rivulets of pitch and death, leaking through the ceiling, sliding down the walls like a toxic rain. His skin crawled and he saw ghosts, tormented spirits of his brother and sister Jedi forever trapped in this temple to failure. They screamed and died, over and over, howling in betrayal.
But he closed his eyes, took a breath, and stayed his course.
The Jedi might perish tonight but so would the Sith.
He knew Yoda had lost when the Senate Building wailed out in the Force, as the Light itself screamed and clawed as the Darkness tried to devour it whole. For a moment the lights flickered, the ground trembled and the fearless Red Guards shivered in their posts. They looked at each other with brief heartbeats of doubt and fear before they recovered and returned to stand at attention.
Obi-Wan did not move.
His trap was set.
The Dark Side spilled down walls and hallways, an orgy of despair, fury, and triumph. It overwhelmed civilians, who started shivering and coughing, desperate to get some air back into their lungs, unaware of what had just taken place. Of what they had all just lost.
The call for protection went out and Obi-Wan followed, moving silently after the guard in front of him, the whole lot of them blind to a traitor in their midst.
They ran at the crest of the wave of the Dark Side which thundered victoriously in his ear, demanding his surrender, his defeat, and his supplication to the great might of hatred and despair. The Red Guards moved as one, coming to the Emperor’s side and for a moment he was blinded by the shadows.
To look at Palpatine was to stare into the void, the heart of evil and all that was wrong in the Universe. Palpatine wasn’t so much a man as he was an animated corpse, the white folds of his skin waxy and putrid and clinging to bones too small for his bulk. To the Light, he was decaying where he stood, a cancerous blight swallowed up by the Darkness: a slimy, infested rotting thing with malformed tendrils and crawling legs and teeth when there should only be an old man.
Obi-Wan wanted to throw up but he couldn’t.
Not when he was this close.
“Master Yoda attempted to assassinate me!” the Emperor seemed to cackle with unbridled glee. “Find the green traitor and arrest him.”
Obi-Wan’s cadre of guards hurried off into the Senate Building, scouring the oily darkness for the Grand Master. He had already sensed that Yoda was gone, his dull spark of life already beyond the edges of Obi-Wan’s muted senses. They searched the building from top to bottom and spent nearly two hours questioning anyone who was in the area. No one could remember seeing Yoda.
In a way, Obi-Wan was glad.
If anyone deserved the right to kill Palpatine it was him.
They reported back to the Emperor that there was no sign of Yoda, that the Jedi had escaped.
The Emperor frowned and turned to a small blue figure standing in the halo of a long distance holocom.
“Have the Separatist leaders been dealt with, Lord Vader?” The Sith Lord ask his apprentice and Obi-Wan’s heart cracked.
A man with Anakin’s voice and Anakin’s posture replied. “Yes, my Master. I await further orders.”
“Remain where you are,” Darth Sidious answered. “I have no doubt Obi-Wan Kenobi is on his way to foolishly attempt to kill you. He will be no match for you, of course.”
“I look forward to putting an end to that old man once and for all, Master.”
It was a wonder that Palpatine could not hear the sound of Obi-Wan’s heart shattering into a million pieces, scattering across the cosmos like dust thrown out by a collapsing star.
“You have done well, my apprentice,” Darth Sidious smiled with rotten teeth, spewing hatred with each syllable. “Report back to me when you have killed Kenobi. Then you will be strong enough to save your beloved Padme.”
It occurred to Obi-Wan that when he had last seen Padme, she and the babies were in perfect health.
He wondered what Sidious had done to convince Anakin she was on death’s door.
But no matter. There were other reports to listen to, reports of captured Jedi, of his fallen comrades and systems rising up in revolt against this so-called Galactic Empire and of Separatist space roiling in confusion at the loss of their leaders. Luminara Unduli was captured on Kashyyyk and Deepa Bilaba was reported dead. Others as well.
Ki-Adi-Mundi, Aayla Secura, Plo Koon and Stass Allie.
All dead.
All screaming for vengeance.
No, Obi-Wan told himself as the Sith Lord festered in hideous delight.
Only the Dark Side craves vengeance.
There was a chime and the Emperor pushed himself back from his desk and the other Red Guards moved toward the door.
The Emperor passed in front of him and another guard as the four preceded them.
Now! The Light begged. Strike!
Time slowed as Obi-Wan broke ranks and raised a hand to close the door and bring down the blast doors.
One heartbeat.
For a brief moment, the Sith Lord was puzzled and the Darkness seems to laugh at the novelty of it all. How diverting to be surprised at the pinnacle of power and knowledge!
Two heartbeats.
The force pike whistled through the air as Obi-Wan spun toward the Emperor.
Three heartbeats.
The left guard opened his mouth and a strangled noise greeted the Emperor as the Darkness let out a scream of warning.
The Light! The Light! Its chosen warrior is here! He cloaked himself in rage and sorrow, wearing the blood and bones of his enemies!
Four heartbeats.
A gasp of shock and horror escaped Palpatine as the blade cut into his flesh, crushed through a rib, and embedded itself just below his heart.
Air whistled out of his punctured lung and the monster collapsed.
Five heartbeats.
The other guard moved to stop Obi-Wan, who flung him across the room like so much trash.
Six heartbeats.
That was all it took.
One man with a candle for a soul, hiding in the shadows until it was time to ignite the chaos of a new galaxy.
Palpatine gasped and wheezed on the floor, reaching out with the Darkness for his saber, hidden in his desk. Obi-Wan spun as it flew to the old man, ignited and crimson. The Sith Lord tried to struggle up right, to bring his blade up in a defensive stance. He failed.
Obi-Wan sneered and used the Force to drive the bladed pike deeper into the heart of the monster who had chased his shadows his whole life.
He ripped the blood-colored helmet and cloak off, throwing the latter aside to land on the Emperor’s desk and fall halfway to the floor like blood set free from an artery.
Like the growing stain of ichor on the floor where Palpatine lay.
Obi-Wan Kenobi stood triumphant over Darth Sidious.
The Last Jedi Knight looked down at the face of the Last Sith Lord.
“No! You… huaghf… this c-cannot b-be! Traitor! M-murderer!” Palpatine moaned, blood trickling past his pale, distorted fleshy lips. He struggled to pull at the spear, to call the Darkness to him. “Jedi scum! Help me! Won’t someone help me?”
There was pounding on the blast door and Obi-Wan turned his attention to the Red Guards outside. Four spirits raged against the door and then flew backwards, crashing into the walls and each other, scattered like autumn leaves before the throne of power.
The Light Side rejoiced and coiled around its chosen son, the one who stayed true.
The one who never wavered.
The Chosen One of the Light.
Obi-Wan whispered something as he drew out his saber and Sidious struggled to hear it, struggled to hear anything beyond the blistering rage that was enveloping him. If he hadn’t dueled with the Jedi hit squad. If he hadn’t just finished fighting with Yoda, if the Darkness wasn’t swirling around Kenobi and searching for purchase in that searingly pure soul he might have stood a chance.
“You can’t kill me!” Sidious wheezed, his legs failing him as the pike sunk deeper into his flesh. “It will only convince the Galaxy of your treachery when the legendary General Kenobi assassinates the new Emperor!”
Obi-Wan looked down at him, his eyes glowing blue in the light thrown off by his blade. “Do you think I care, Sith Lord? Do you think I care about what history says about Obi-Wan Kenobi? About the lives he saved and the people he didn’t?”
Sidious said nothing, trying to summon the strength to lash out with the Force, his rage and fury distilled down to white-hot lighting. He was biding for time but choking to death on the blood gurgling in his throat.
Obi-Wan bowed his head and murmured something Palpatine couldn’t make out, but it did not matter. The Dark Side returned to him, defeated in its attempt to poison Obi-Wan, and he lashed out with a guttural scream.
The lighting flashed around the room and scorched the electronics, fried the door and the ventilation systems.
It died on Obi-Wan’s blade and Sidious collapsed backwards, groaning in agony as his movements jarred the tip of the blade closer and closer to his heart and spine.
“I c-cannot d-die like thisss…” Sidious gurgled in pain. “I am… S-Sith! M-my apprentice will avenge me!”
“Will he?” Obi-Wan asked, his chest empty where his heart should be, a hollow, sucking wound he knew would never heal. “Knowing him… I suppose he will. But he won’t be a Sith. Not a true one. You’ve had no time to train him, to warp his soul and break his spirit. No, my dear Darth Sidious. I’m afraid the Sith die here with you.”
And the brutal truth hurt far worse than the pike in his chest or the cowering fear of the Dark Side.
Kenobi was right.
The Sith would die with him.
At the pinnacle of their might.
At the apotheosis of their triumph over the Jedi.
The Order destroyed.
The Jedi slaughtered.
The Republic they served gone with the stroke of his pen.
And the Sith would still perish.
Sidious screamed in rage as Obi-Wan closed his eyes and whispered into the Force.
Three names.
Qui-Gon Jinn
Satine Kryze
Anakin Skywalker
With a brutal downward thrust straight into the heart of Darkness the last Sith Lord fell beneath the blade of a Jedi.
Not the last Jedi, though.
Never the last.
Obi-Wan allowed himself a moment of remorse, a moment of relief and rage and exhaustion before he remembered where he was. Escape would be difficult but not impossible.
Nothing was impossible with the Force.
“After the assassination of the putative Emperor Palpatine, the Galactic Republic was thrown into chaos as the two sides warred for control, fascists versus republicans. Individual Separatist systems were courted by one side or the other, both desperate to gain a majority over the other.
“The Jedi seemed to vanish overnight as if the Emperor had simply swept them off the board. They made a few appearances after Operation Knightfall, mostly to rescue imprisoned colleagues or to accept the allegiance of Republic ships that wished to defect.
According to some reports, the Jedi, in a fleet numbering as little as one to as many as ten battle cruisers, took off for the Unknown Regions, determined to leave behind the Galaxy that betrayed them while others believed that they would return one day, stronger and in greater numbers.
They would return when the Galaxy needed them most.
I cannot say one way or the other what happened to General Kenobi after his brilliant assault on the Citadel and the rescue of his brothers and sisters there, but selfishly admit to hoping that he is still out there, the last great Jedi Master watching over us and still finding this galaxy worthy of protecting.”
-Excerpt from Jedi v Sith: The Definitive History of the Galactic Civil War and the Plot to Destroy Democracy by Dr. Quetz Tinneranda of the University of Alderaan
Anakin
looked up at the deep brogue, blinking at Qui-Gon as the master stood
there in the doorway with a small smile on his face as he peered at
his padawan. “Uh… I’m sorry Master, I didn’t notice you
there…” He shifted his feet,
embarrassed at being caught as Obi-Wan hid his laughing mouth from
the blond, the bastard. He was the one who had suggested that Anakin
should try singing!
“I
know, I don’t mind. You sing well, Obi-Wan sang that same song. It
was one of his favorites.” Qui-Gon hung his robe and removed his
boots, his entire posture a bit sunken. It was the first time in six
years that the man had spoken to Anakin about Obi-Wan really in
length. “He could charm anyone into laying down and closing their
eyes if he wanted. I could never tell if it was a Force granted gift
or just his natural charm.” He laughed a bit.
Glancing
up at Obi-Wan by his side, Anakin watched in fascination as the ghost
seemed to blush and cover his face with his hands, peeking at their
master through his fingers.
Qui-Gon
made his way to the couch and sat down heavily, smiling up at Anakin
still though there was a slight downturn to it.
While
he could talk about Obi-Wan now, it was clear the others death still
weighted him down some.
‘But
its healing that he can talk at all now right?’ Anakin mused as
he noticed Obi-Wan remove his hands from his face to stare at the
master with a small fond smile despite still clearly doing the
ghostly version of his blush.
“I
once watched him sing a threeheaded dog into sleep like something out
of a planets mythos tales.” Qui-Gon laughed quietly. “The locals
told me it was the pitch of Obi-Wan’s voice when he sung but still
it was amazing to watch, singing something fierce and wild into
sleep… listening to him
sing was one of my favorite things in the entire galaxy.”
He smiled fondly to himself at the memory.
Glancing
up at Obi-Wan then back to Qui-Gon, Anakin took a chance.
“More
than I knew.” Qui-Gon confessed easily, peering at Anakin before
lifting one arm invitingly, Anakin sliding in below it easily while
peering up at Obi-Wan. “And I hurt him so badly those last few days
that I can do nothing but regret my actions towards him. I adore
having you here but I wish I had handled it differently.” Qui-Gon
sighed. “You can’t spend
twelve years together and not start loving someone despite the
differences and arguments you have, its impossible not to love them.
And Obi-Wan was light and
will and a dogged determination no one could break, how could I not
love someone like that had a heart like a lion? He was my friend as
much as my student.” He
settled on.
Settling
his head against Qui-Gon’s chest, Anakin listened to the steady
thump of the mans heart even as Obi-Wan knelt down in front of the
older man, touching his knees with wide eyes beneath the hood of his
blurry robe. “…What would you tell him if you could? If you had
one more chance to speak to him?” Anakin whispered.
Qui-Gon,
staring right through Obi-Wan, watched the chrono ticking away in
their quarters as he slowly rubbed Anakin’s scalp with a gentle
hand.
“What
would I tell him?” Qui-Gon laughed lowly, a bitter laugh. “How
long would I have? I have years of conversation to share with him if
I could but…” He let his laugh trail off. “If
I could have just five minutes… I’d tell him I was prouder of him
than any words could ever
express. That he was my pride and joy… and I was looking forward to
working with him once he was a knight.” Qui-Gon tilted his head
back on the couch, staring at the ceiling.
It
gave Anakin a chance to look at Obi-Wan.
And
that just broke his heart as rivers of tears streamed down the others
face as Obi-Wan stared at Qui-Gon with a desperate expression on his
face before he rushed to his feet and out of the room. Anakin bit his
lip, he never knew where Obi-Wan went at those times he
wanted to be alone, only that it was somewhere in the temple.
It
was hard not to feel like a thief in these moments though he knew
Obi-Wan didn’t blame him but here he was, curled against Qui-Gon’s
side where Obi-Wan should rightfully have been for the comfort he
clearly needed.
Assuming that we’re going to get an announcement about the Obi-Wan Kenobi movie soon, I realized that not only will that likely mean an appearance of kidlet Luke at some point to make me cry, but that ALSO THIS WILL PROBABLY BE WHERE OBI-WAN FINDS OUT THAT VADER IS STILL ALIVE. This is probably going to be where Obi-Wan sees the suit for the first time and we’re all going to have to sit our asses down in that theater and be crying wrecks in fucking public because Ewan McGregor’s face as Obi-Wan Kenobi is going to see what has really become of Anakin Skywalker, after he thought he was dead, and I’m going to have to watch that with my own two eyes and try not to full on sob in my seat.
Oh god…
Why?
WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT?
You can think that stuff but you don’t say it!
WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY??
And what if Obi-Wan has hallucinations or nightmares?
Or even worse, he’s doing whatever it is he’s doing and he hears a familiar…
“That’s not how you fix a vaporator, Master.”
Or the faintest, distant echo of “Did you train the boy, Obi-Wan?”
Or…. Just to REALLY make us all bawl our eyes out…
“I have always loved you, my Obi-Wan.”
And no matter how many times he looks up, they’re always gone.
And Obi-Wan is always alone.
There. My suffering is complete.
I KNOW RIGHT I AM STILL OFFENDED BY THIS POST MINUTES LATER.
PS: YOUR ADDITION WAS ALSO UNCALLED FOR.
There’ve been rumors (but nothing confirmed yet, as far as I know) that Hayden Christensen might return in VIII or IX.
WHAT IF HE ALSO RETURNED FOR THE OBI-WAN MOVIE?
Flashbacks to the Clone Wars with Ewan McGregor and Hayden Christensen! Or even just:
IMAGINE EWAN AND HAYDEN ACTING THAT OUT ON TATOOINE. Imagine seeing a shot of Hayden!Anakin walking over a sand dune in the blazing sun, only for Obi-Wan to blink away the mirage and there’s nothing there.
I’M NOT GONNA MAKE IT.
Lets just imagine that poor Hayden finally gets a chance TO act, okay? That poor boy deserved better. HE. DESERVED. BETTER.
Also, you deserve this pain…
The stars of the Tatooine night sky are breath taking. With no light pollution to hide them and little to no cloud cover to speak of the arms of the galaxy spiral overhead, a diamond studded river in an indigo blue sky. Obi-Wan watches the fire and then sparks carried up into the night, born aloft by a surprisingly chilly wind. He pulls his robe more tightly around his shoulders and tries to ignore the cold.
“You should be inside,” a voice says, painfully familiar. “The desert can kill with cold just as easily as with heat, Master.”
Obi-Wan closes his eyes and does not look up. If he looks up the owner of the voice will vanish, some how making his exile all the more solitary. “That is why I built this fire. But I do thank you for your concern. I regret that I have nothing to offer you by way of refreshment.”
The voice says nothing and Obi-Wan will not look, cannot look. If I look he’ll vanish and… and… I must not look.
“It’s all right. I’m not hungry,” the voice says, weary and exhausted. “Why are you out here? Aren’t you worried about the Tuskens? Lightsaber or no, if they get the drop on you, you’re as good as dead.”
Obi-Wan exhales and looks up at a distant homestead. He was here because he was concerned about the recent activities of Jabba’s men. They had been causing problems with the homesteaders and he could risk Luke getting caught in the crossfire.
“I’m looking after someone,” Obi-Wan answered turning his head just slightly, not enough to see but enough to indicate… what? That he was listening to his own hallucination, his own mental persecution?
“Are they worth it?” the other person asks and Obi-Wan can almost imagine him stretching backwards on warm sands, his long leg crossed at the ankles and his weight resting his elbows as he leans back and looks up at the sky. Loose dark honey curls would fall back from his face and for a moment, he would be at peace as if the stars above sang a lullabye only he could hear.
“Is he worth it, Obi-Wan?” the voice asks again, interrupting Obi-Wan’s imaginings. “Is that boy worth all of this?”
“Luke?” Obi-Wan confirms even when his heart says another’s name.
Anakin.
“Is that boy worth it?” the memory of his heart’s brother asks. “The heat, the danger, the isolation and the terrible food? To say nothing of the sand.”
“You never did care for it, did you?” Obi-Wan asks softly, not moving and barely breathing, afraid that any harsh movement will scare off the spectre. “Why are you here?”
“Is that really what you want to ask me, Obi-Wan?” comes the soft reply, in a voice higher and softer than that nightmare he glimpsed on the holofeed back in Mos Eisely. That creature of pain, rage and fury trapped under volcanic glass.
I did that to you.
I am so sorry, Anakin.
“No, I suppose that’s not what I want to ask you,” Obi-Wan sighs. “But to answer your question, yes. He is worth it.”
“Who? Luke?” the memory’s voice is closer, there are sounds of a body moving through space, of leather boots and glove creaking and fabric rustling. “Why? Who is he? Why are you out here when you could be in the galaxy, helping people? Isn’t that why you wanted to become a Jedi? Why we both wanted to become Jedi?”
Obi-Wan closes his eyes. He’s so close, Obi-Wan could almost reach out and touch him, could almost lay one thin hand on a strong natural arm and squeeze a hand that should have been whole and healthy. Not a durasteel prosthetic covered in black synthleather.
Taking a breath, Obi-Wan answers as he opens in eyes. “He is important because he is your son, Anakin.”
And for a moment, Obi-Wan sees him, or thinks he sees him, beautiful and sorrowful under the silver light of the galaxy overhead, his dark curls dancing on the cold breeze. His eyes are so blue it almost erases Obi-Wan’s memories of Mustafar and their last words.
A log collapses in the fire and throws up a storm of sparks and smoke and then he’s gone.
Obi-Wan turns back to the distant homestead and his exile and murmurs to himself, “You were worth all of it. Even now.”
konekorambles 