Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Blinded

Self-hatred. For not being good enough. For his failure. For the rigidity that had trapped him when he saw what Maul was doing. For his numbness after it happened.  For being guilty of Qui-Gon's and Satine's death. More than 10 years lay between them, and yet Obi-Wan vividly relived every single second. Qui-Gon had seemed…  He had no suitable words to describe it. Just not like Satine. Obi-Wan would never forget the look in her eyes as the Darksaber pierced her chest.

Fear. Pain. Terror. Disappointment?

He had failed. Maul had escaped. And his dear Satine? Dead. The woman who had trusted him, who had wasted her last, labored breath with dedicating her last words to him, the man who had brought her nothing but death. She had lain limply in his arms. Her once loving eyes had stared at him lifelessly until he had closed them, unable to bear it any longer. And Maul had laughed. Knowing full well that he had beaten him. Obi-Wan had taken half of Maul's body. So now the Sith had taken his better half.

I loved you always. I always will.

He had loved her. With every fiber of his being. And yet, in the end, it would have been better if she had never known him. Attachment was what had brought him to this point. And yet it had also been the reason through which he had felt a little happiness.

Blankly, he stared at the red helmet of the Mandalorian armor in his hands. His gloves left bloody fingerprints on it. He should be dead. Not Satine. If her sister hadn't come to his rescue, Obi-Wan wasn't sure he'd be sitting here now - in a ship on his way home. Baring the news that he had flown unauthorized to Mandalore and that a Sithlord was now in power there. He had brought the war to Mandalore. And with it, destroyed everything Satine had ever fought for.

With a cry, he smashed the helmet to the floor, watching as it rolled across the floor of the ship and then came to rest against the wall. Defeated, he let his head sink into his hands and suppressed a sob. He didn't know how long he sat there like that, but at some point, he must have dragged himself to the back of the ship, discarded the pieces of armor, and stuffed them into a bag. It would be a reminder of what he has lost – and what he had failed.

Obi-Wan found some plain clothing in one of the holds and silently slipped them on. With weary feet he trudged over to the small refresher, catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror. There was a smeared, bloody handprint on his face. Satine. He still felt her hand, slowly growing cold, against his cheek as she spoke her last words.

Numbly he began scrubbing it from his skin, watching how the blood tinted the sink in a shade of red. A single tear escaped his eyes. It was all his fault. Somehow the people he cared about always died. It was a miracle that Anakin and Ahsoka were still there.

Pressing his eyes closed, he took a shuddering breath, before turning off the faucet and returning to the cockpit.

An hour till he would arrive on Coruscant. Obi-Wan still didn't know how to explain himself; wasn't even sure if he wanted to talk about this at all.

The silence was almost deafening. The blackness that occupied the viewport seemed more endless than ever. Contrary to the opinion of most others, Obi-Wan did not like to be alone. His finger hovered over the inbuilt commstation; thinking about calling Anakin – or maybe even Ahsoka. Just to get away from the suffocating silence.

Making a decision, he tried to reach Anakin. The device beeped, but no one answered the call. Strange. But maybe he was with Padme and didn't want to be disturbed. Obi-Wan had not told him where he had flown, only that he needed the Twilight. It would definitely not be easy to explain to him that his beloved ship had been destroyed. The Jedi Master pursed his lips and ended the call. There was no point.

Maybe Ahsoka was there. Methodically, he typed in her ID and waited again. Radio silence. Obi-Wan frowned. Had the two been sent on a mission of which he knew nothing? But even then, he could at least reach one of them. He had a bad feeling about this. Deactivating the commsystem again, he leaned back in the pilot's seat, trying to center himself.

Thoughts were swirling in his head. Maul. Satine. His failure.

 He should stop letting people get so close to him.  Maybe then they would have a higher chance of survival. Obi-Wan snorted. What a bitter thought.

Another look at the navicomputer told him that he still had a little time. Meditation. Hopefully that would help him.

Even if it would never bring Satine back.

Slowly, he lowered himself cross-legged to the floor and took a deep breath. In front of him, still lay the helmet he had thrown earlier. With a small movement of his fingers, he let it float over. The visor had been slightly cracked on impact.

He knew that Satine herself had owned a set of Beskar armor. A gift from her father, shortly before he died. But a pacifist as she was, she had never worn it. Obi-Wan dropped his head against the helmet in his hands.

"I'm so sorry, Satine," he breathed, "You deserved better."

Setting the helmet down in front of his knees, he straightened his back. Closing his eyes, he sunk into the Force. He tried to let go of his anxieties and fears. His dark thoughts. They clung to him like a thick layer of mud, obstructing his sight and movement.

Obi-Wan managed to settle down a bit until the soft beeping sound from the control alerted him on his arrival in Coruscant’s atmosphere. His legs ached as he got upright again to take over the steering wheel. It was late in the afternoon on the planet. The last rays of sunlight peaked between the large buildings and flying ships. He had gotten used to the constant noise of the city at some point. Not like Anakin, who still struggled to get some rest when it was too loud. Especially as a kid.

Obi-Wan pressed his lips into a thin line, there has been a lot of tension between them lately. Anakin had never really forgiven him for faking his death. Silently, he steered the ship through the lines of speeders toward the Jedi temple. As he approached the hangar, his eyes went wide. Much of the hall was torn and charred, the signs of an explosion.

"Oh Force," he muttered, startled. Obi-Wan landed quickly. Making his way to the back, he grabbed the helmet off the ground and stuffed it into the bag with the rest of the armor, which he then slung over his back. The loading ramp opened with a hiss and he jumped to the ground more than he walked.

Worry began to spread inside his stomach as he analyzed the damage. Ship parts lay scattered around, obviously torn apart by the blast. He had to find Anakin and Ahsoka, fast. Obi-Wan did not want to imagine that the two had been here. Forgetting for a moment that he was supposed to report to the council about Mandalore and Maul, he stormed through the halls of the temple. He ignored the puzzled looks the Jedi in his path gave him; he was too focused on reaching their quarters. Contrary to the rules, Anakin had not moved out after being knighted. Instead, he had stayed, and after Ahsoka had become his Padawan, she had been given the third room in the apartment, which Obi-Wan himself had previously used as a kind of office, since his own bedroom was rather small.

Finally reaching the door, he punched the code into the pad next to the door and slipped inside before it was even completely open. Everything looked the same; datapads and droid parts lay scattered on the couch and floor, used plates and cups piled up in the kitchen. 

Even chaos has its order, as Anakin used to say with a grin when Obi-Wan tried to get him to clean up.

"Anakin?" he called, though he already sensed that no one had been here for at least a day, "Ahsoka?"

Silence was his answer.

His stomach churning, he evaded the scrap metal on the floor and stepped into his room. He sat down the bag in the corner and checked his desk if they had left a note or something behind. But no, not a single sign was to be found. His personal commlink showed a message from Mace and another from Plo.

‘Report to the council immediately.’ – Mace, one day ago

‘Obi-Wan, where are you? Your padawans need you right now.’ – Plo, one day ago

Padawans. So something had happened. Heart thumping in his chest, Obi-Wan quickly changed into a set of his own tunics and left the apartment again.

With quick steps, he made his way to Plo's apartment. He already raised his hand to knock on the door when it suddenly opened and he almost collided with the Kel'Dor, who seemed to be in a hurry himself.

"Obi-Wan," the Kel'Dor blurted out, obviously surprised by his appearance.

"Plo, what happened? Where are Anakin and Ahsoka?"

The man was hard to read through the mask he wore. But he knew his friend too well, to not notice that he was extremely worried. He had a soft spot for Ahsoka, as he was the one to bring her to the temple.

"Come with me," he spoke in a voice that betrayed nothing of his inner turmoil, "I will try to explain it to you on the way. No one expected you to show up after you had disappeared for days. The Jedi Council is meeting in the courtroom."

Perplexed, Obi-Wan made way for the Jedi and silently began to follow him. He was afraid of what he was about to hear. Suddenly he wished for the protection of his robes, just to hide himself from the stares that followed them.

Next to him, Plo exhaled deeply and then spoke without looking directly at him.

"I think you saw the destruction in the hangar?"

Obi-Wan glanced at his colleague's side profile and nodded stiffly. "Yes."

"There was a bombing. Several Jedi and temple workers were killed. We were already able to arrest the attacker. Letta Turmond. The wife of one of the temple workers. We handed her over to the military."

Obi-Wan furrowed his brow in confusion. "The military? That should  be a Jedi matter."

Plo hummed in agreement. "Tarkin beat us to it. We had no choice after that. But that's not what worries me."

He stopped and turned to him. "Letta Turmond died from a Force choke. And Ahsoka was with her, having agreed to talk to the woman and maybe get more information."

Obi-Wan's eyes grew wide as he put the pieces of the puzzle together in his head. "You're telling me they're going to charge Ahsoka with murder," he gaped, shell-shocked.

The Kel'Dor nodded silently. “They're forcing us to expel her from the order. So that she can stand trial as a Republic citizen.”

If he felt like someone had pushed him off a cliff before, now he felt like someone had taken a dagger right through his heart. “Plo… you can't be serious”, he hissed, “We both know that Ahsoka would never do such a thing!”

“Obi-Wan, calm down…”

“Calm down? You just told me that my grandpadawan was branded a murderer..." his voice was icy, "And you just expect me to calm down?"

He couldn't bare another loss.

"I believe in her innocence too, my friend. But since the evidence is all against her, I've been overruled."

"You have already voted. The assembly in the courtroom is just a formality...," Obi-Wan stated in shock.

"I'm afraid so. I'm sorry. There's nothing more we can do."

"Nothing more we can do...", Obi-Wan snorted in disgust, "We sentence an innocent sixteen-year-old to death because the Senate tells us to. You can't seriously just stand by silently."

"I spoke out against her expulsion. Unfortunately, many of the council members didn't share my opinion. Your vote wouldn't have made a difference in the final outcome either."

I should have been here, he thought ruefully. Maybe I could have dissuaded the council from this madness. Obi-Wan had failed again. First Satine. And now it would cost him Ahsoka.

"Where is Anakin?" he asked, defeated.

“Probably with his padawan.”

Obi-Wan began to move forward again. “I need to speak with them.”

A soft, but strong hand on his shoulder held him back. “The trial is in 30 minutes and the military trial is scheduled for this evening. You should try talking to the other council members. Maybe you can still knock some sense into their heads.”

“As if they would listen to me. They are too afraid of the senate", he grumbled, but he knew Plo was right. Maybe this was their last chance to tip the scales for Ahsoka. “Let’s hurry.”

The two jedi masters quickly made their way down to the lower levels of the temple, nearly bursting into the small room in front of the courtroom where the rest of the councilors were gathering.

Master Windu turned around, surprised to find himself face to face with the youngest council member. “Obi-Wan", he said almost unfazed, “I didn't think you would show up. Not after you just left without authorization.”

Obi-Wan gritted his teeth. "It's not me who should have to defend myself here," he growled, wrinkling his nose and turning so he could see all the remaining members, "You're making a mistake. We should be standing by Ahsoka's side, not casting her out like she was never one of ours. I know she would never be capable of doing such a thing."

“You haven't seen the footage, it proves that she Force choked the suspect”, Ki-Adi Mundi stepped in.

His eyes narrowing, Obi-Wan faced the jedi. “It's correct that I haven't seen the video. But Master Koon told me enough. And the Force is basically screaming at me that this is all wrong. It's a miracle everyone here seems to be too deaf to hear it.”

“You let your attachment cloud your judgement.” It was Mace who spoke up again, his voice carrying an air of authority.

But Obi-Wan wouldn't back down. Not now. “Is that so? What would you do if it was one of your padawans, Mace? If it was one of them about to be sentenced. You know what the sentence for murder is”, he glowered at Mace, “Death. You're killing an innocent child.”

As he said that he let his gaze wander he caught the gazes of the other council members. They weren't able to meet his eyes for long. "As Jedi, we should protect the innocent, not just hand them over because we're too afraid of what the Senate thinks. We have all taken that oath. And yet we bend to a few politicians just because we're told to."

The Korun Master closed the distance between them, his eyes darkening. “She is not your padawan, Kenobi. And now watch your tongue.”

"Or what? Are you going to kick me out, too, then? Padawan Tano is both my responsibility, just as she should be yours," he hissed.

Before Mace could answer, a loud tap on the tiled floor interrupted them. Master Yoda had approached them, leaning on his gimer stick and a solemn expression on his face. “Enough this is. A decision we have made. Side with Ahsoka we can not. As an opposition against the senate, it can be seen.”

Obi-Wan shook his head in disbelief as he looked at the diminutive master. "I can't believe how far we've strayed from our principles."

Yoda flattened his ears and closed his eyes briefly. “Sorry I am. Begin we must now.”

With that he turned around and slowly made his way into the Chamber of Judgement, the clicking sound of his stick echoing through the silent room.

The other masters went to join him and as Mace passed Obi-Wan, the Korun Master stopped briefly. “We'll talk about you later.”

Obi-Wan said nothing, just fixing the man with a cold glare even as he disappeared into the chamber. Plo and himself were left standing in front of the open doors.

“I don't want to see this,” he mumbled, fists clenching at his sides.

“Me neither,” was all the Kel'Dor said. Both exchanged a glance before silently entering the chamber side by side and took their respective positions.

Anakin and Ahsoka were both there. Neither of them looked up to him, which Obi-Wan was glad for. He felt too guilty. For letting both of them down. For not being there. For representing the council.

His knuckles whitened as his grip on the railing in front of him tightened. He could feel Anakin’s anxiety. Obi-Wan tried to reach him through their bond but was met with a tight wall. He was shut out.

“I'm sorry, Anakin,” he whispered to himself.

His heart slowly tearing apart, he watched how they confronted Ahsoka with the evidence and the girl pleaded that she was not guilty. Again, the Force sang that she was telling the truth.

But no one was listening.

Ahsoka was questioned further. About her meeting with Letta Turmond. How she came into possession of the nano-droid weapon. How Ventress was involved.

Anakin paced up and down under the platform Ahsoka was standing on, his eyes shining like those of a predator. Their eyes met briefly, and at that moment Obi-Wan could feel the disgust his former Padawan was throwing at him. To him, he was the Council. It didn't matter that he had spoken up for Ahsoka. That anger had never been contained. Anakin pranced on the edge to the Dark Side. The Jedi created their own enemies. Pressing his lips together into a thin line, he tried again to reach Anakin through their bond, but was brutally pushed back, so he had to struggle not to flinch.

Obi-Wan watched as Anakin's eyes flickered yellow briefly and his mine contorted into a snarl, his hands clenched into fists. His friend jerked his head around and fixed his gaze on Master Yoda.

“You have already made your decision, haven't you?”, he shouted angrily, “This meeting is just a formality!”

Yoda closed his eyes and hummed. “Reached a decision we have. But not in total agreement are we.”

Nice way of saying that the senate controls us. Again, Obi-Wan felt the urge to leave. He couldn’t stand this.

“It is the council’s opinion that Padawan Ahsoka Tano has committed sedition against the Republic. And thus she will be expelled from the Jedi Order”, Mace said, his voice completely emotionless.

“You can't do this!” Anakin cried, a maelstrom in the Force. He stormed forward and the guards had to ignite their blades to keep him at bay. There was so much anger. And so much darkness.

Now, Obi-Wan was sure he lost his friend as well.

Ki-Adi Mundi narrowed his eyes. “Your padawan status will be stripped from you and you shall forfeit all rank and privileges within the Grand Army of the Republic. You will be turned over to the Republic Court to await your trial and whatever punishment they will set for you. Henceforth you are banned from the Jedi Order.”

Frozen, Obi-Wan observed how a guard stepped forward and simply plucked off Ahsoka’s padawan braid. Like it had meant nothing to her.

The look on his grandpadawan’s face made his heart shatter.

“What have we done…”, he murmured, his chest constricting painfully.

They put binders around her wrists and she was dragged off, while a set of guards held a violently thrashing Anakin back.

Struggling to get some air into his lungs, Obi-Wan pushed himself back from the railing. This was too much. Not looking back again, he made his way to the exit, determined to set an end to this.

As if Mace was sensing his thoughts, the man stepped into his path with a dark glare. “And where do you think you’re going? We still have something to discuss.”

Obi-Wan just cocked an eyebrow exasperatedly and kept his face blank. “Do we now? If you ask me, it would be best if you step aside now, Master Windu."

Narrowing his eyes, the man stepped closer, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Are you threatening me, Kenobi?”

“No”, he tilted his head, “Do I have to?” Obi-Wan had no time for this if he wanted to catch up with Anakin.

Master Windu clenched his jaw and didn't move. “You will report to the council chambers now”, he leaned into his space, “And then we will talk about your little trip to Mandalore.”

So he knew. Not showing his surprise, he returned the Jedi Master’s stance. “I'm afraid I have something to settle first, Master Windu”, Obi-Wan said in his negotiating voice, a fake smile plastered on his face, “If you now would be so kind to let me through?”

With every second he wasted here he would lose Anakin and Ahsoka. They were the only thing he had left.

“Well", Mace shifted on his feet and stretched out his hand, “Give me your lightsaber and you're free to go.”

“You have no right to take it from me”, Obi-Wan hissed, enraged by the behavior of his opponent.

"Indeed I have the right, Obi-Wan," Master Windu grinned derisively, "I am permitted to confiscate a Jedi's weapon as soon as he poses a danger to himself or others. And the way I see it, you're a threat to all of us right now."

“A threat? Because of what? Not keeping my mouth shut?”

"We know you're going after Skywalker. Your apprentice is known to make rash decisions, and seeing that your own senses are pretty clouded right now, we need to stop you from acting the same way," he wiggled his fingers demandingly, "Consider it a pledge that you'll come back."

He would love to put both his hands around Mace's neck and squeeze really hard. How dare he undermine his authority like that.

Instead, he took his lightsaber from his belt and pressed it into the hand of the still sneering Jedi Master. "Don't cut yourself on the blade, my dear."

With that, he waltzed past Mace and exited the chamber. As soon as it swung shut behind him, he started running, ignoring how the Jedi stared at him.

Anakin was already outside the temple. He's a supernova, untenable and uncontrollable.

Obi-Wan makes it to the steps of the temple.

His eyes took a moment to adjust to the evening sun blinding him. Squeezing his eyelids together, he immediately recognized Anakin in the distance, who was still arguing with the guards.

"Damn it," he cursed under his breath and nearly jumped down the stairs.

Obi-Wan came to a skidding halt in front of the small group. "Anakin!", he shouted, pushing one of the temple guards aside to get through to his friend. Up close, he could feel the rage emanating from his former student, so that it sent a shiver down his spine and he had to raise his shields to keep himself from being overwhelmed.

Anakin whirled around and when their eyes met, Obi-Wan unintentionally took a small step back. There was that flicker of amber again.

Oh Anakin. What have we done to you?

With a flick of his hand, he motioned for the guards to step back and give them some space. Luckily, they complied so that he could focus on his friend again.

“Anakin…,” he started, stretching his arm out in a calming matter, “Please, listen to me.”

Pursing his lips, Anakin glared at him with blazing eyes. They brimmed with hatred and resentment. And it was directed at him. “You just let it happen…,” he bristled, his voice breaking, “I trusted you… Ahsoka trusted you!”

The words stung. Obi-Wan didn’t know what to say.

Could he have done more? His mouth opened and then closed again directly with a clack.

Anakin stomped over to him and angrily shoved him back. "Say something! Or did the Council take its lapdog's tongue, too?"

As Obi-Wan struggled to regain his balance and not drop down onto the pavement, a lot of words swirled through his head.

Satine's dead. Maul killed her… I was too late. Not just for her, but for you as well…

…I'm afraid.

Neither of them felt right. He choked on his breath, fighting to block out the hatred that continued to press against his head and continued battling the fear that threatened to take the air from his lungs.

“…I'm sorry,” he managed to choke out.

I just wanted to help.

Suddenly, the words the Togruta on Kadavo had thrown at him echoed through his head again.

Jedi only make things worse!

With a pang in his heart, Obi-Wan realized that the man had been right. He most certainly did make things worse.

 “…You're sorry?!” Anakin's eyes bore down on him. His friend has always been a lot taller than himself. It had never bothered him – until now. The Force was a storm. And Anakin was the epicenter. “I'll show you how sorry I am!”

Eyes wide open, Obi-Wan could only watch in a kind of trance as Anakin drew his lightsaber and swung the blade at him.

In retrospect, he would not have known whether he would have defended himself had he had his own weapon at hand. He was too caught in a shock that paralyzed him and only allowed him to watch as the blade came closer. One last time, he tore his gaze up to Anakin's eyes. For a moment, he thought he saw some recognition in those orbs flickering between blue and yellow - but that was probably just wishful thinking Obi-Wan had planted in his own brain. He had lost Anakin and Ahsoka. There was nothing to recognize.

The blue blade went right through his face. Obi-Wan didn't know how long it took him to register the pain. And that it had gone dark. His mouth twisted into a scream and he sank to the ground, hands tearing up to his face. He didn't know which was up and which was down. And why it was so loud. There were footsteps. Shouts and screams. His palms, pressed against his face, grew damp and the burning became unbearable.

Suddenly there were hands taking his own hands off his face. Someone was speaking. But Obi-Wan could understand nothing.

"Anakin...," he gasped out between hitching breaths before losing consciousness.

Hours later, he woke up. Disoriented, he tried to figure out where he was. There was a buzzing in his head and his connection to the Force felt muddled as well. Obi-Wan opened his eyes. At least, he thought he did. The darkness remained. Panic rising in him, he blinked, which resulted in a sharp stab of pain. Only black. Against reason, he tried to reach for his face with his hands - only to find he couldn't move them. Restraints were wrapped around his wrists. Obi-Wan pulled again, and suddenly a loud beeping joined the roaring in his head. He could not breathe. His heart was pumping so fast that Obi-Wan could almost hear it.

Out of nowhere, there were suddenly hands on his arm again, making him flinch.

"...ster Keno...ou have ...calm down."

The beeping stopped abruptly and he felt a mask being placed over his nose and mouth. Breathing became easier. Again, there was that voice, but this time he could understand it.

"Master Kenobi, can you hear me?"

He lay still for a moment, trying to take a few controlled breaths before answering. "Yes." His voice was raspy and muffled by the mask.

“Good,” The voice belonged to a young female, but he couldn't discern if he knew her, “I'm Padawan Ailyn Dellian and you're in the Healing Halls.”

The memories came back slowly. Anakin. The searing pain in his eyes.

“What happened?”, he croaked.

“You suffered severe injuries to your eyes,” there was a pause that seemed to drag on for forever, “… I'm sorry to say this.... but there was nothing we could do – you’re blind.”

Blind. Obi-Wan again choked on his breath. The comforting hand on his upper arm did little to calm him. He was shaking and would have squeezed his eyes shut to suppress the tears if every single movement didn't hurt so much. So he let them go.

"I'm sorry," the Padawan whispered, "I'll go get Master Che, okay?"

With that, the presence disappeared from his side and Obi-Wan could only faintly hear the footsteps disappear.

He’s alone. The realization only now began to sink in. He would never see his family again. Satine's enchanting smile. Anakin's gleam in his eyes when he spoke of tinkering on his droids. Ahsoka's glowing presence in the Force. They were all gone. The only thing that remained was this endless darkness.

Obi-Wan did not know what was worse. That he would never see again... or that it had been his best friend who had delivered the blow.

The pain returned more fiercly. Again, he tried unsuccessfully to tear the bandage from his eyes, but his hands remained firmly in place.  Twisting his head to the side, unseeing eyes tried to make out the light that would never reappear. He didn't even know if his eyes were open or closed. Not that it made any difference.

Obi-Wan Kenobi let out a silent scream. He could take no more.

Chapter Text

Anakin didn't know what possessed him to attack his friend, his brother. And he probably would never be able to answer this question which left a burning mark inside his head.

As his blade tore through those blue-grey eyes that had been with him for most of his life, that had looked at him with concern more often than he would have liked, but that had also pierced him when he had made a mistake, Anakin didn't know what to feel. Satisfaction? That he would never again be exposed to that watchful gaze? Disgust at his own atrocity? That he had just taken the sight of the man he had always looked upon as a kind of father?

In the end, anger remained. At the council. At the whole Jedi Order. At Obi-Wan. Because he had not been there when Ahsoka and he had needed him most. Because he had stood by silently as his grandpadawan had been subjected to this injustice, and in the end had nothing more to offer than a weak apology. Anakin wanted to hate him for it. He knew he was trying to justify himself for what he had just done. Perhaps it was the sense of indifference that set in that made him decide he had done the right thing. And it was the blind rage again that made him overlook the fact that Obi-Wan had not even tried to defend himself. The rational part in the back of his head whispered to him that this was how he tried to repress what he had done. A mechanism to come to terms with it.

His gaze had briefly lingered on his friend, watching him fall to the ground, hands pressed against his eyes. Or what remained of them. Anakin had not felt the pain he was sure was there. He had been blocking their bond since the beginning of the trial.

In the next moment, he tore himself away from the scene before him and turned, ignoring how the guards came rushing up. No one tried to stop him. He knew they were afraid of him - of his unpredictability. Before he began to go on his way, Obi-Wan's voice reached his ear one last time.

"Anakin..." It was no more than a barely audible, broken whisper.

And yet it made the feeling boil up inside him that he had unjustly condemned Obi-Wan. A small part of him wanted to force him to turn around, and not leave behind this shambles that had once been their friendship.

Fists clenching at his sides, his posture went rigid. He had to go. Ahsoka needed him. Obi-Wan had broken his trust by faking his death. Had used their grief to sell this deception.

“I hope you’re happy now, master.”

With that, he began walking away, determined to catch the transport which was meant to bring Ahsoka to the prison.

He didn't stop until he reached his destination.

The transport had already arrived and Anakin could see Ahsoka being escorted out with a number of guards. He could feel her fear in the Force, and somewhere at the edge of his mind he could also feel Obi-Wan's pain and despair. Only he had no capacity for it now. Sooner or later, he would have to deal with it, but for now his ignorance was both a protection and an option for him to move on.

For the second time that day, Anakin went on the attack. The azure blade of his lightsaber snapped from the hilt, burning hot and just as deadly. He leapt while still sprinting and landed right in front of the troop of clones surrounding Ahsoka.

"Let her go," he demanded confidently, his lightsaber raised menacingly in front of him.

The foremost two clones instinctively took a step back and raised their blasters in response. "General Skywalker," the one on the left spoke, "you should reconsider your next move."

Anakin let his gaze sweep over the troops. Their armor was white with red markings - the Coruscant Guard. Not as battle-hardened as the 501^st, but dangerous nonetheless. Ahsoka was standing behind them a shocked expression crossing her face.

‘I’ll get you out, don’t worry Snips’, he sent over their bond. It didn't do much to ease her fear and Anakin's blood began to boil again at the thought of who was to blame for all this.

Steadfast, he took a step towards the guards. “I don't like to repeat myself, troopers,” he snarled, “And you will let her go now if you value your lives.”

Even though their eyes were concealed by the helmets they wore, he knew that they were exchanging nervous glances. “Sir…,” one of them tried again, “I must remind you that what you’re doing is considered a crime. If you step aside now and let us pass, we will refrain from pressing charges.”

Anakin huffed, undeterred. “The only crime being committed here is that my innocent padawan has been wrongfully convicted. And now... Step. Aside."

With the Force, he put a crushing strength behind his words that caused the clones to stumble to the side, holding their heads.

His robe billowing behind him, Anakin quickly closed in on Ahsoka and severed her handcuffs with his lightsaber before deactivating it and grabbing her by the arm. "We need to get out of here. Quickly."

Ahsoka was too overwhelmed to protest much as he began to more or less drag her along. After a few minutes, she finally caught herself and the two began to disappear into the lower levels of Coruscant at an insane speed. Behind them the sirens blared, but that didn't stop them.

Master and Padawan dashed ahead, jumping from roof to roof and using even the smallest sneak paths. At some point, they lost track of time. But at some point, their pursuers must have given up. When silence finally fell and they found a hiding place in one of the narrower alleys of the poorer districts, Anakin took Ahsoka aside, resting her hands on her shoulders.

"Are you alright? Did they hurt you?" he asked anxiously, already scanning the girl for possible injuries.

“I’m fine, master,” croaked Ahsoka, the exhaustion finally catching up with her, “But… but how do we proceed? They’ll be looking for both of us now.”

With a watchful eye, Anakin scanned their surroundings. Cheap, flickering neon lights were some of the few sources of light in this place, shrouding the unattractive, shadier sides of Coruscant in a dim light. They could not stay here, he knew that. But he had had no time to plan. It had all happened far too quickly.

“We’ll figure it out,” he muttered, more to himself than to Ahsoka.

“What about Master Obi-Wan?”, his padawan asked a little unsure, “Maybe he can help us.”

Anakin bit his lip so hard that it began to bleed. “He won’t help us.”

Ahsoka tilted her head, trying to catch his gaze. “What do you mean? Surely, he can…”

Baring his teeth, he whirled around, his face red with rage. "Don't you get it?" he bellowed, "If we meant anything to him, none of this would have ever happened! And now look where we are!"

Ahsoka had backed away, her eyes wide. Anakin's anger suddenly vanished into nothingness when he saw her expression. "Ahsoka, I'm..."

He reached out with his hand but she took another step back, shaking her head. "Weren't you listening, Master?", the padawan whispered, her voice breaking, "They weren't in total agreement. Someone believed in my innocence."

"Even if he believed it. In the end, he bowed to the council. As he always did. After all, he clearly showed how little we meant to him when he faked his death." His own voice had become quiet.

"You can't be serious," Ahsoka wrinkled her nose, "You of all people should know that's not true. Yes, it was hard to forgive him for that, but in the end, I don't think he had a choice to say no." She paused.

"Sometimes I feel like it's not you he doesn't care about - it's him you don't care about."

Anakin felt sick as he realized she might be right. He had not let Obi-Wan get a word in, had instead thrown accusations at him for which he wasn't even at fault. And then he had struck. Precisely. With the intention to hurt. Without thinking. Without thinking of the consequences. Something in his chest lurched. His stomach cramped painfully and before he could do anything about it, he emptied the contents of his stomach onto the asphalt at his feet.

I should hate myself.

He zoned out – barely registering that Ahsoka was standing beside him, a steadying hand on his shoulder, trying to break through the haze that occupied his mind.

“Master? Anakin?”

He simply shook his head, unable to form words, and leaned against the wall beside him. He couldn't tell her. He should do it, he owed it to her - and to Obi-Wan, whom he had pulled the floor out from under his feet and whom he had practically kicked again after he had already been lying on the ground. But there were no words to even begin to express what he had done. So Anakin remained silent.

Unconsciously, he tightened the robe around his shoulders and tried to suppress the tremor that ran through his body. The once so familiar cloth brought him no comfort.

"We have to keep moving," he rasped quietly, "Get off the streets. And you need a disguise."

Swallowing the stale taste in his mouth, he pushed himself off the wall and began to walk ahead, not able to meet Ahsoka's eyes again. Her silent footsteps were the only indication that she was following him. Anakin was not sure if she would still do it when she learned the truth. He pulled the hood deeper into his face.

The alleys ahead of them were long and twisted, dirty and run down. Not the image of Coruscant that was always shown in the media. Anakin wove his way through the crowds as unobtrusively as possible, scanning the buildings in search of a temporary place to stay. His gaze caught on a rather small hostel. The advertising on the roof was only half lit and even the rest which was still doing its job was flickering.

That had to be enough. As he approached the building, he noticed how the asphalt in front of him began to turn a little darker. Confused, he lifted his head and only when his nose suddenly became wet, Anakin realized what was happening.

It was raining. Coruscant had an adjustable climate system, so this was a rarity in itself. But exactly on this day it rained. As if the fate wanted to punish him personally for his deeds. He stretched his head upwards and stared at the dark sky - as he had done on the day when he had seen and felt rain for the first time in his life. As a child from Tatooine, he hadn't known what that was. Obi-Wan had been with him. With a calmness Anakin had never understood how he could achieve it, his master had smilingly explained to him what this phenomenon was and that there was no need to fear it.

He still remembered exactly. Anakin had practically dragged Obi-Wan outside after that, with a curiosity that only a child could possess. No sooner had they passed through the gates of the temple, he was rushing off, his head stuck to the sky - and not paying attention to where he was running.

Anakin pressed his mouth into a thin line at the memory. He had almost fallen down the steps in front of the temple, had Obi-Wan not intercepted him at the last moment. Despite everything, his master hadn't yelled at him for his carelessness. No, instead he had taken Anakin on his shoulders.

A little startled himself, it had taken him a moment to calm down. But then he had wrapped his thin arms around Obi-Wan's neck, resting his chin on his head. They had remained like this for a while, non of them speaking, only cherishing the moment of peace.

As Anakin felt the rain drops run down his face now, he only felt reminded of what he had lost – of what he had voluntarily destroyed. Swallowing thickly, he lowered his head again and continued on his path. The rain continued to beat down mercilessly on him as he covered the last few meters. A little more forcefully than he had planned, he pushed open the door, startling the receptionist behind the counter. Anakin winced and entered, holding the door open for Ahsoka. He glanced over his shoulders and saw that his Padawan was soaked to the bone. She desperately needed dry clothes.

"I'll get us a room," he whispered to her, "wait here."

Ahsoka nodded only briefly and let her gaze wander through the rather sparsely furnished lobby.

Blowing out a breath, Anakin stepped up to the counter and put on the most charming smile he could produce. "We would need a room for two."

The lady behind the counter raised her eyebrows and clicked her tongue.  "Are you guys on the run?" she joked.

Anakin gave a forced laugh. "Yeah, something like that.  So?"

"Three hundred credits a night."

"What?" he could hardly believe what he was hearing, "That's usury!"

The receptionist just tilted her head, bored. "Do you want the room or not?"

Grumbling, Anakin slid the credits across the table and received a key with the number "Three" in exchange.

"Thanks," he pressed out before turning and walking over to Ahsoka, who was staring intently at something.

“Come on, I've-,” he started but stopped as his eyes fell on Ahsoka's subject of interest. A small screen had been mounted to the wall. The HoloNews were on.

“…News has reached us that Duchess Satine Kryze of Mandalore has been confirmed dead.  We can't report how this happened yet, but one thing is for sure - Mandalore is now a war zone…”

Anakin almost dropped the key in his hands.

This can't be true. A serious mistake.

Numbly, he stared at the image of Satine flickering across the screen, and the longer he did so, the more he realized it had to be true.

It all made sense. Why Obi-Wan had sought him out days before, agitated, almost begging him for the Twilight. Anakin had not understood why his master had acted so strangely.

Now he understood, and it made his stomach twist again.

Satine had asked Obi-Wan for help. And the council had refused him to travel to Mandalore - so his friend had needed the Twilight to get there anyway. Obi-Wan had defied the council. Had flown to Mandalore. And now Satine was dead.

Anakin's heart clenched.

“Had you said a word, I would have left the jedi order.”

That's exactly what Obi-Wan had said to Satine on the Coronet back then. His master did not know that he had overheard him. It had shocked Anakin to hear that the otherwise so upright Jedi Master would do such a thing. Leave the order. For the woman he loved.

Looking back, he remembered that Obi-Wan had seemed drained when he had run after him, dragged down by something. More than the trial that had also shaken him to his core. Satine's death. Was that why he hadn't defended himself?

Why did you let me hurt you so much, Obi-Wan?

It had been wrong to assume that Obi-Wan didn’t care. Yes, the man had made mistakes. Mistakes, Anakin still couldn’t forgive. But his friend had tried to help; he saw that now. Despite losing maybe the only person that he had truly loved, Obi-Wan had come after them after the trial. Because he didn’t agree with the Council’s decision.

And he had hurt his brother in return. Had hurt his brother so severely that his life would never be the same.

And the problem was – Anakin couldn’t even tell why he did it.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t notice that the reporter from the HoloNews had changed the topic.

“...there was an incident in front of the Jedi Temple between Generals Skywalker and Kenobi...”

Abruptly, he was jerked back to reality. Of course, there had to be recordings. Nothing escaped the media. A buzzing noise spread through his head as he watched motionlessly as the video played. The recording was choppy, but you could clearly see him drawing the lightsaber and slashing at Obi-Wan. Anakin didn't know if he should be happy that at least there was no sound.

In front of him, Ahsoka stared at the screen and Anakin felt sick as he sensed the change in her Force signature. Slowly, his Padawan turned around. He should have told her.

Now it was too late.

"Tell me that's not true," she demanded sharply, her eyes wet with tears.

"Ahsoka, I..." he began, but she cut him short as she stepped right under his eyes.

"Tell me,“ she hissed, punctuating her point by pointing at the damn screen where the scene was still playing, "Tell me you didn't do this, Anakin."

His breath quickened as he desperately tried to formulate words. There was only the piercing gaze of his Padawan, so full of disdain, and the recording of his own atrocity that had found a place in his mind.

What have I done...?

I am a monster.

Chapter Text

“Obi-Wan?” A firm but gentle hand settled on his arm, startling him out of his daze. He hadn’t even noticed Master Che’s approach. Too strong was the pain that seemed to burn in every part of his body.

Slowly he turned his head in the direction from where he thought he heard the healer's voice. There was still only darkness. And his mind refused to believe that this state would never change again. He opened his mouth to speak, but somehow it was suddenly so dry that he could do no more than croak.

Master Che must have noticed this because her hand disappeared and he heard her moving around the room turning on a faucet for a moment. Then her shallow footsteps came closer again and he felt her sit down on the edge of the bed next to him.

"I have a glass of water here," she spoke softly, "I'll help you sit up a little, okay?"

Obi-Wan nodded only slightly, his head far too heavy to lift on his own.

Carefully an arm slipped behind his shoulders and a hand braced his neck, before he was slowly pulled upwards a bit. His head began to hurt even more from the change of position and he sucked in a sharp breath.

“Easy there, breathe slowly,” Vokara said, her hand steadying him, “Just tell me when you’re ready.”

Obi-Wan waited a few seconds until his head didn’t feel like it was about to explode right here and there. “I’m ready,” he rasped.

Slowly, the breathing mask was slipped from his face.

“Okay, don’t drink too fast. You’ve been out for a while,” she explained in return while she lifted the glass towards his lips. The cold water felt like balm on his dry throat.

After a moment the glass was removed again and his mouth finally didn’t feel like it was filled with cotton anymore.

“Thank you,” he muttered quietly. Obi-Wan heard how she set the glass down somewhere next to him.

“Do you want to lay down again?”, she asked.

“No,” he answered, “My head hurts way too much to move again.”

The bed shifted a little as Vokara stood up and she propped up some pillows behind his back so that he could lean against them. “I see. Then please be honest with me, Obi-Wan. How bad is the pain?”

I feel like my head was split open. Oh wait..

“Bad enough that I for once in my life admit that it hurts,” he grumbled dryly.

“An achievement none of us was looking for,” she retorted, sorrow lacing her voice, “I’ll inject you with some painkillers.”

Again Obi-Wan heard her moving around, rummaging through some drawers and ripping open a package. Something was laid down on a table he guessed had to be somewhere next to the foot of his bed. The squeak of the wheels of a stool followed next, telling him that she was probably sitting next to him again now. Still, it didn't change the fact that he was startled when a hand grabbed his forearm unexpectedly. He flinched, his wrist uselessly pulling at the restraint that still held him.

He was trapped. He couldn’t see. He couldn’t move. And somehow that let a wave of panic rise up inside him.

“Sorry, I should have warned you,” Master Che tried to calm him down but the apology fell on deaf ears.

“Please take them off,” Obi-Wan pressed out instead, tugging on his wrists, the panic visible in his face despite the bandages covering his eyes.

“Obi-Wan, those are…,” she began, but he cut her off.

“Do you have any idea how it feels to lose your eyesight?”, he grounded out, not caring that he probably was too harsh considering she only wanted to help him, “And if that isn't enough you take the little freedom I have left as well.”

The healer was definitely taken aback by his sudden outburst, as she pulled her hand back and remained silent for a moment. The sudden loss of contact made him involuntarily shiver. Obi-Wan wished he could see her face, to gain at least a glimpse of what she was thinking.

But then a click sounded and the cuffs fell away from his wrists. Slowly he pulled his arms together, absently rubbing his forearms. Finally, the panic lost its grip on him.

“Thank you,” he whispered, “…and I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize, there’s a lot to take in,” she said reassuringly, “You might not remember but you woke up a few times before – confused, trying to claw at your face.”

Obi-Wan hummed resigned. “No, I don’t remember.”

“Can you give me your arm?”

For once, he complied with the healer’s orders. He just wanted the pain to stop.

This time he expected her grip on his forearm and didn’t flinch away. She sprayed something cold in the crook of his elbow, before she grabbed something from the table.

“I'm going to prick you now, try not to pull away please,” she declared, waiting for him to acknowledge it.

“Just do it.”

“Okay,” Master Che said and pinched his skin with the needle without much fanfare. After she was done, she started putting the things away. “You’ll feel better in a few minutes.”

“Physically at least,” Obi-Wan muttered absently, before he could stop himself. Emotionally he still didn’t know how to handle this.

“Is there someone I can call for you?”, she asked tentatively, sitting down at his side again.

Satine. That was the first name that rang in his head. But she was gone. Because he had failed to slay that Sith like he had been supposed to.

Anakin and Ahsoka. He could feel neither of his padawans. Right next to the gaping hole that the bond with Satine had left behind, their bonds vanished into nothingness.

His best friend hated him. And his dear grandpadawan probably resented him for not helping her. For letting them sentence her for a crime she didn’t commit.

No. There was nobody. He was alone.

Not having enough strength to speak anymore, he shallowly shook his head and pressed his lips into a thin line. Obi-Wan felt like he was on the verge of breaking down and before he knew it, hot tears slipped between the bandages, burning on the sensitive skin, trailing down his cheeks.

“Hey, hey,” Vokara spoke with a quick and hushed voice, failing to hide that she was overwhelmed by the situation.

Obi-Wan had never cried openly. Even after Qui-Gon's death he had refrained to do so until Anakin had been settled in. Only in the silence of his room in the middle of the night had he allowed the tears to fall.

Unexpectedly, tender hands settled on his neck and pulled him closer against a shoulder. “I'm so sorry,” she breathed, sending soothing waves through the Force. They sat like this for a while, Obi-Wan still silent and unmoving, while the master healer simply held him close.

When his tears finally ceased again, he pulled back from the embrace, not quite knowing what to do or to say. His shoulders slumping, he lowered his head as if he tried to avoid her gaze. Logically, Obi-Wan knew that he wasn’t able to tell if she was even looking at him. And yet he tried to hide from those analyzing eyes, concealing the pitiful existence he had been reduced to.

"How come you don't ask what happened?" he finally dared to ask, his throat painfully dry once again.

Her silence already made him suspect that she was hiding something from him and this was a bad omen, but it caused him to stiffen when she finally vocalized it anyway.

“I don’t know how to say it, Obi-Wan… but there are recordings. Of your and Skywalker's fight."

So everybody knew. The images had probably already spread rapidly on the HoloNet. Obi-Wan didn't know what to say. It wasn't enough that his best friend had attacked and injured him - no, of course this had to happen on camera and would now possibly lead to a political conflict.

"We have also received news from Mandalore," Master Che spoke softly, but it still made his breath catch in his throat.

"Please don't," he interrupted her hoarsely, "I can't talk about it yet."

“I understand.”

No you don't. You have no idea. No one understands what I am feeling.

Obi-Wan wanted to yell, to shout. But he knew it wouldn’t change anything. So he resigned to silence trapping the thoughts that tore him apart inside.

“I should change the bandage, if that’s okay for you.”

He honestly didn’t care. But a small part inside of him whispered that it was not the healer’s fault that he was sitting here like this. She was just doing her job. It was unfair to let her get the brunt of his frustration.

“Just go ahead,” he muttered exasperatedly.

This time he was prepared for her touch. Obi-Wan felt the layers on his eyes slowly diminish until only the Bacta patch remained, covering them directly.

"This might hurt a little," Vokara said, her hand on his temple where the patch ended. "If it gets too bad, give me a sign."

Sitting up a little, Obi-Wan prepared himself for the pain and took a deep breath. The Master Healer was gentle and precise as she removed the patch, and he felt her use the Force to numb the skin a little. When it was finally off, he visibly relaxed, his fingers detangling from where they had unconsciously grabbed the blanket.

The cool air tingling against his skin, he found himself almost wanting to rub his eyes out of reflex, but fortunately Master Che was alert and caught his hands halfway.

He froze. "Oh, yes... bad idea."

Calmly, she let go of his hands again and Obi-Wan dropped them into his lap. “It’s a normal reaction, don’t worry too much,” she assured him and set about gathering her things. Again, Obi-Wan heard her moving around. It was hard to concentrate on all these things. He tried to put all these perceptions together into a picture that would at least give him an impression of what he could have easily seen before. He did not want to succeed. Whether it was due to the drugs that clouded his mind or whether his plan was simply too complicated and doomed to failure, he could not say. What he did know was that it made him angry and frustrated. He did not know how to deal with this helplessness. Obi-Wan couldn't let himself be dependent on others again.

'I see where this has gotten me,' he thought grimly, his mind wandering to Satine, who had died because of his failure, and his two Padawans, who had left him in the end because he had not been there when they needed him.

When he was alone, he couldn't accidentally hurt anyone either. And the other way around that also meant that one could not hurt him.

"I can practically hear your dark thoughts," the Jedi healer voiced after a moment, pulling up the chair next to the bed with a scrape and then sitting down.

Obi-Wan grumbled to himself, gnawing on his cheeks and slammed his shields into place. There was a beat of silence where neither of them spoke but in the end Master Che caved in.

“It's not healthy to keep it all in,” she sighed, “I'm here to listen, you know? Not just as a healer but as a friend.”

“I said I don’t want to talk about it right now,” he gritted out between clenched teeth, his voice darkening.

“I know what you said,” came her sharp response, “But you seem to me like you don’t want to talk about it all. And as a healer, I cannot and must not approve of that. Either you talk to someone you trust, be it Master Koon or even your commander.... Or I have to assign you a mind healer."

Obi-Wan wrinkled his nose. If it were up to him, he would prefer to avoid company of any kind right now. Ignoring what Vokara just said, he asked a different question instead.

"When can I go home?"

"Obi-Wan, have you even..."

This time it was him who would have liked to roll his eyes. "Yes, I listened to you, and I'll say again that I don't have the strength or the nerve to deal with this right now." His mood quickly declined and this was noticeable in his presence. Normally, he was known to always keep his calm and be level-headed but now those attributes just slipped away from him.

She let out an exasperated sigh and Obi-Wan knew he was more than a little on the healer's nerves.

"Definitely not today," she replied curtly, "Now let me check the wound, I have other patients to attend to."

A certain coldness had replaced the previous warmth in her voice. The rational part in his brain whispered to Obi-Wan that his behavior was not okay, and that he should actually apologize. But as before, the words stuck in his throat. Against his nature there was suddenly the need to just be alone. Subconsciously, he shut himself off, even from the Force, which still led a wild turmoil inside him.

His body did not twitch as Master Che's hands now touched his face and worked on the sore skin around his eyes.  Obi-Wan felt numb, as if he were no longer connected to his body. He was so lost in thought that he didn't even notice that the healer had finished her examination and was talking to him.

“… well. I think we can leave it off as long as you don’t touch it…”

“Hm?” Obi-Wan turned his head into the direction where her voice came from, “Sorry, what were you saying? I – I must have drifted off.”

Vokara paused for a moment. When she spoke again, her voice carried a hint of sympathy and the coldness from before had vanished. “I said we can leave the bandage off for now. The wound is healing well and I am optimistic that the scarring can be reduced to a minimum with the bacta.”

“… That’s good to hear. I guess.”

"There are ways to see with the Force, you know? Of course, it will take time and energy, but there have always been Jedi who have managed to make their way despite their blindness."

"I know."

Tahl. A good friend of his own master. One had hardly been able to tell she was blind. So gracefully had she moved in battle and so confident had been her demeanor. Obi-Wan had liked the woman. She has always been gentle. And a good listener. Back in his days as a padawan he had found himself at her apartment more often than not. Especially when he had gotten into yet another argument with his master.

Unfortunately, she was no longer with them. Like Qui-Gon.

"Is there perhaps a way to get some fresh air?" Although he couldn't see his surroundings, they felt like the walls were getting closer and closer.

"Your room has a small balcony. Are you sure you want to get up?"

“Yes, please.”

"Okay," Master Che stepped closer, "Then sit up and swing your legs over the side of the bed. But slowly, I'm warning you."

Obi-Wan did as instructed. The tiles were cold under his bare feet, but he didn't mind. It gave him at least a small impression of what surrounded him. When he finally sat upright, the nausea and headache returned. Propping his arms on the mattress, he tried to even out his breathing.

"Doing all right?" the healer inquired, placing a steadying hand on his shoulder.

Nodding, he swallowed the bile that had started to make its way up his throat. “Just… a little dizzy.”

“Okay, just grab my arm whenever you are ready.”

Obi-Wan took his time before placing his hand on the arm that was still holding his shoulder. Slowly but steady Vokara guided him to his feet then until he was standing mostly on his own apart from the arm that was being held tightly by the healer.

As he made his first step, he almost stumbled had she not caught him. Scrunching up his face, Obi-Wan stood still for am moment. "It feels strange. Like my sense of balance is completely messed up."

"Your body hasn't gotten used to missing some information input yet," she explained, "Give it time. Besides, the drugs I gave you are quite strong. Normally, no man would be able to take even one step after that. That you're still standing here amazes me."

Together they moved toward the balcony until they stopped and Obi-Wan heard the hiss of the door as Master Che opened it.

"We're almost there. There's a small step in front of you."

Carefully, Obi-Wan pushed his foot forward, felt the edge, and finally lifted it to climb up. Already he felt the shallow breeze that tingled against his skin and made his eyes itch a little.

At last, they entered the balcony fully and Vokara led him to the side as he at least suspected.

"There's a bench behind you. You should sit down."

Reaching his hand back and feeling the bench, he sat down and blew out a breath. The walk had been more strenuous than he wanted to admit.

"I must go on now, Obi-Wan. Padawan Dellian will check on you from time to time. Is that okay with you?"

He leaned back a little and let his head rest against the wall. "Yes. Thank you, Master Che. And sorry about earlier. I don't know what got into me either."

"You have a lot to deal with," she briefly put a hand on his upper arm, "Just remember you're not alone."

With that, she left him and Obi-Wan was again alone with his thoughts.

For a moment, he wondered if Anakin was still at large. Somehow it surprised him that they didn't want him to make a statement about the incident. Even if he was not sure if he wanted to give it. On the one hand there were enough recordings and on the other hand he didn't want to have to testify against his own brother. Even if Anakin had hurt him so much. Not only physically, but above all mentally.

And Ahsoka? Force, the poor child. Obi-Wan did not know what to do. He didn't know what they were doing to her now. What the Senate had decided. Maybe he could take her place. Ahsoka was a minor, and as her grandmaster, he had the position of a guardian in a way.

It was clear that only a scapegoat was being sought. Just another blow of the Senate against the Jedi. If they would now get a Jedi Master instead of a simple Padawan, that would only be fine with them.

Obi-Wan had nothing left to lose. And if it meant he could give Ahsoka another chance, it was worth it to him.

Maybe he would see Satine again sooner.

Chapter Text

Her hands involuntarily clenched into the fabric of her robe, the hood of which she had pulled deeper than necessary into her face. Although it wasn't her the media was leering at, it still felt like a pair of prying eyes lurked around every corner. They knew of her connection to the Jedi. Especially to Anakin and Obi-Wan.

The news had reached her unprepared during a Senate briefing. That Satine was dead... Padme could not believe it. She didn't want to. The Duchess had been a close friend. A person she could always trust. In fact, Satine had known that she and Anakin were married. Padme would have wanted to tell Obi-Wan, too. The man deserved it. But Anakin had vehemently refused and always got angry when she brought up the subject. There had always been an anger that Padme could not understand. And now to see the images of the confrontation.... somehow, she felt guilty. Could she have prevented this? Should she have insisted more that Anakin finally spoke to his master and not bottled up the frustration?

But now it was too late. Padme stood before a pile of broken pieces of which she did not know whether she could ever repair anything again. Or if it was even her role to do so.

Through good times and bad. That was what they always said about marriage. But had Anakin gone too far? Was there any way that could even begin to justify this atrocity?

Padme could not imagine it. And the anger and disappointment over the man she was supposed to love grew by the minute. Not only had Anakin fled the scene - no, he had also broken Ahsoka out and now they were both wanted. Padme could only hope that Ahsoka could beat some sense into her master. If the girl even knew about Anakin's crimes. To be unjustly condemned was already bad enough, but now to be confronted with the fact that she could probably never see her Grandmaster again and that Anakin was also capable of such actions - that had to pull the floor out from under her feet.

Anakin left those closest to him severely traumatized, and Padme wondered if he even realized it - or cared.

Her feet carried her up the stairs to the jedi temple, its structure looming high above the other buildings on Coruscant. The wind blew harshly and made her shiver a little. Determined, she pulled her robe tighter around herself and continued to walk up.

She did not know what to say, had no words ready. But it was wrong to leave her friend on his own now. And so it came to pass that she now found herself under the scowl of the temple guard, who refused to let her in.

"The temple is locked down for the time being. That means no visitors," the man grumbled, visibly annoyed by her presence.

"Please," she pleaded, "I am a friend of Master Kenobi and would like to check on him."

The Jedi's gaze darkened and he leaned down a little on his staff toward her. "So were the claims of many reporters before you, Senator," he growled, "So, if you would be so kind as to leave now?"

“No.”

The guard's eyes widened, giving Padme a good view on the large bags underneath the man's eyes. Sleep-deprivation, obviously. “No? Didn’t you…?”

She interrupted him by rising her hand. “I did hear you, don’t worry. But I am Senator Padme Amidala of Naboo and I have always been a supporter for the jedi. I can at least try to help if you let me.”

The jedi bared his teeth. “And if you were the Chancellor personally, I. Won’t. Let. You. In.”

So that wouldn’t work. Squaring her shoulders, Padme started a last, in hindsight a rather desperate, attempt.

"Would you abandon a friend in need?"

Groaning, the guard let his head rest against the staff in his hand. "Force help me," he muttered before raising his head again, "Senator, I don't know what you're trying to do here, but we're not getting anywhere like this."

Padme remained stubborn. "So your answer is yes?"

"No, of course not."

"Then why are you allowing one of your own to be left alone?"

The guard rubbed his forehead in annoyance. "Kenobi is not alone."

"Oh, he's not?", Padme raised an eyebrow, "As far as I'm aware, his own former Padawan severely injured him, and his grandpadawan is not here either. Not to mention his master who gave his life on Naboo many years ago."

She deliberately did not mention Satine, not wanting to get Obi-Wan in trouble. "So tell me, who else does he have? I'm sure anyone in his situation could use the support of a friend."

Shifting his weight, the guard blinked slowly. "You're not going to give up, are you?"

"Definitely not."

Sighing, the man glanced briefly at the temple, then back at her. "Fine, I'll let you in. But if I find out you're leaking any information to the media..."

Padme smiled placatingly. "I swear I have only the best intentions."

The guard took a step to the side. "Then let's go before I change my mind."

"Thank you." Bowing briefly, Padme then scurried up the remaining steps and entered the temple's entrance hall.

She had only been here a few times. Either it had been an official request or Anakin had smuggled her in behind the other Jedi's backs. Especially when his own master was not on Coruscant - away, on some mission on which Anakin could not or would not accompany him. Lately, the arguments between the two men had become more heated. Especially after Obi-Wan's undercover mission and his faked death. Anakin had never forgiven his mentor for that and let him feel it quite clearly.

As Padme walked through the almost deserted corridors, she realized how much the Jedi had to change because of the war. Fewer and fewer children were to be seen. Instead of peacekeepers, the Jedi now had titles like General and Commander. It was wrong, she could feel that even as an outsider.

No one stopped her. With her plain, brown robe and the hood pulled over her head, she might be mistaken for a jedi. Luckily for her, the way to the Halls of Healing was rather easy to find. She passed through the milky doors that separated her from her destination - and nearly collided with a Twi'Lek healer holding a patient file. Her hood fell off her head as she stumbled and was only stopped from falling by the healer in front of her who caught her by the arm.

She quickly straightened up again, somewhat embarrassed by the situation, and smoothed her robe a bit. "I'm so sorry Master Jedi…," she began but the healer cut her off.

"Senator Amidala? What are you doing here? The temple is closed to visitors." Her voice was sharp and Padme felt like she was shrinking.

Collecting herself, she crossed her arms inside the sleeves of her robe and met the woman's stern gaze. “I’m sorry for the intrusion, but I am concerned for my friend… Master Kenobi.”

Immediately, the Jedi's gaze softened. "I see,” she shifted the patient file in her arms so that she was pressing it in front of her chest with both arms, "Perhaps you should follow me to my office then.”

Both women moved in silence through the long, pristine hallway, passing patient rooms and other healers who scrambled to look after the injured. It was a sight that made Padme’s stomach twist. The war had taken so much. And it wouldn’t stop anytime soon.

The healer stopped in front of a door and put her hand on a panel next to it, letting the door reveal the small room behind it.

“After you, senator,” she said, motioning for Padme to enter with a wave of her hand.

“Thanks.” She stepped past the woman into the office, astonished by the sheer amount of files piling on the desk and in the drawers around it. Realizing that she was somewhat frozen on her spot, she turned her attention back to the jedi who had moved behind the desk, adding the file to the pile. “I’m sorry but I don’t think I got your name.”

A small smile tugged on the jedi’s lips. “My mistake. Somehow I'm used to people barging in here, already yelling my name,” she held out her hand, “I’m Vokara Che, head healer.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Master Che,” Padme said, returning the handshake.

"Sit down," Master Che invited her, pointing to the chair in front of the table and then sitting herself down. "So you're here to see Obi-Wan?"

"Yes, we're old friends."

The Jedi watched her with an analyzing, deliberative gaze. "I take it you know what happened?"

"I saw the footage," Padme replied rather quietly, a sinking feeling in her stomach at the thought.

"Well," Master Che pulled out a very thick folder from the pile and opened it, pulling out a picture, "I'll be honest with you, Senator. It looks terrible. The video footage didn't even begin to capture the extent of it. And since I don't want my patients to be unnecessarily upset by possible reactions from visitors, I want to prepare you."

She put the picture on the table, but Padme couldn't bring herself to look at it yet.

"The burns were so severe that there was nothing we could do for him," the healer continued, "Master Kenobi has gone blind."

She had dreaded this moment since she had gotten the news and had tried to prepare herself for the worst but that didn’t keep her heart from grinding to an almost painful stop.

Blind…

Anakin, what have you done?

Numbly, Padme lowered her eyes to look at the picture on the desk. Obi-Wan's face could be seen. A red, blistering wound stretched across his eyes, leaving the now milky iris pale in contrast.

"I can't believe that An... Knight Skywalker did this," she murmured, her gaze still fixed on the evidence of her husband's brutality.

If the Jedi had noticed her slip of tongue, she at least didn't let it show as she continued to speak.

"The why and wherefore will remain an unanswered question for us for a long time. Now we must try to help Obi-Wan.... He hasn't been the same since the incident. He's confused, depressed.... sometimes angry," as Padme looked up, she faced eyes filled with concern, "I don't know how to get through to him, Senator. He won't talk, not to me - not to friends. He's isolating himself and I am afraid we might lose him forever.”

Although Jedi were trained not to show their emotions, the desperation in Master Che's voice was clearly audible.

"I don't know if he wants to talk to me, but at least I'll try," Padme said with forced confidence, though she wasn't sure about this.

Master Che still looked at her intently with a tight expression, but then nodded. "Okay, then, I'll take you to him now."

The Jedi rose from her chair and led Padme down the long corridor again, until they stood before a locked room at the end.

"Wait here a moment," the healer said, activating the door panel, "I want to talk to him first to see if he's ready for visitors."

"Of course." Padme took a small step back, hands clutching again in the fabric of her robe. She watched as Master Che disappeared through the door and Padme stood alone in the hallway. Her heart hammered in her chest.

What was she going to say? Was Obi-Wan perhaps even angry with her? Could she even look at him, knowing that Anakin had done this?

She felt sick and had to pull herself together to not throw up.

Briefly the thought came to run away, but she would never forgive herself for that. And Obi-Wan probably wouldn't either, knowing that she had been here.

A few minutes later, the door opened again and Master Che ushered her in. “He's on the balcony,” she said in a hushed tone, “Is it okay for you if I leave?”

The fear inside of her made her almost say no. She did not want to be alone with him. She did not want to face this.

“Of course. Thank you, Master Che.” Padme gave a shallow smile and bowed.

The Twi'Lek healer tipped her head in acknowledgement and then left, leaving Padme in the small hospital room.

Taking a deep breath, Padme stepped around the bed towards the open door which led onto the balcony. Immediately a chilly breeze hit her face, making the hairs on her neck stand up. But then she focused on the reason she was here. Obi-Wan. The man was sitting on a bench against the wall, dressed in a simple short-sleeved white shirt and light blue sleep pants. His auburn hair was a bit disheveled and his beard was also longer than how he usually kept it. He had pulled his legs in front of his chest, his arms resting on his knees. In his hands he held something attached to a cord, letting it wander between his fingers again and again, but Padme couldn't make out what it was. His face was turned away, but she could see his jaw working.

"Obi-Wan?" she asked cautiously, slowly approaching the bench but keeping a certain distance.

His fingers stopped moving, clutching the object tightly now. "Senator Amidala." His voice was quiet, rough. It lacked the warmth Padme usually knew from Obi-Wan. And there was suddenly a distance - almost a wall - between them that Padme wasn't sure she could overcome.

Senator Amidala.

Though she had repeatedly offered him to call her by her first name, he had never done so, if only perhaps to tease her a little. But now? There was no tease, no smile hidden underneath the beard. It felt like they were strangers.

Words got stuck in her throat and before she could decide to say anything, Obi-Wan beat her to it.

"Why are you here, Senator?" His head was still turned away from her. It almost sounded like a dismissal.

But Padme wouldn't back down like that. "You're my friend, and I came to check on you..."

Obi-Wan hummed, finally turning his face to her. Although she had already seen the injury in the pictures, it looked much worse in reality. Shocked, Padme forced herself not to back away. Instead, she bit her lips, drawing a little blood.

White orbs streaked with red, burst veins moved as if trying to see her. Obi-Wan paused for a moment before his brow furrowed, his eyes closing momentarily, and he turned away again.

"You're afraid." It was a simple statement, but still it made the sinking feeling in Padme's stomach return.

Of course, Obi-Wan sensed her emotions, perhaps even her thoughts. She watched as he pulled his legs closer to his torso, his arms wrapped around them. A tremor wrecked his body.

Taking heart, she finally approached and sat down next to him on the bench.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, "I didn't know what to expect."

"I'm not a monster," his voice trailed off, "Even though I may look like one."

Padme shook her head vehemently, even though she knew he couldn't see it. "No, Obi-Wan. It - it was never my intention to imply that. I'm sorry..."

A sad laugh escaped his throat. "Don't blame yourself, Senator. I can imagine how I must look."

"It doesn't change who you are."

Obi-Wan's posture stiffened and his fist closed tighter around the object in his hand. "And what am I? I failed so badly as a master that my own padawan attacked me. My grandpadawan I could not save from wrongful condemnation," his voice broke, "And my inability to slay the Sith when I had the chance cost me two people who I held dear."

Satine and Qui-Gon.

Padme remembered Naboo clearly. How Obi-Wan had carried the dead-weight of his master out of the reactor room, a blank expression on his face. Padme had ordered her guards to keep Anakin away, not wanting him to see the body. She had then rushed to meet the young jedi halfway, guiding him to a secluded room where he could lay his master down.

Obi-Wan had not said a word, not even when Padme had tried to address him. He had only stared at the lifeless figure before him, trembling all over.

She knew how all of this had ended. With a promotion to knighthood, a young boy dumped at his feet – and a promise made to a dead man.

Und then there was Satine. The woman had confided in her on her feelings about Obi-Wan. Padme had kept this secret even if she had wanted to tell Anakin sometimes. Just to get him to talk to his master.

The news had not reported what her cause of death had been. But from Obi-Wan's words, Padme could make sense of what had happened. The Sith of Naboo had survived - and now had taken revenge.

“What Anakin did was wrong. There is no defense for his actions.”

"I don't know,” Obi-Wan raised his hand as if he wanted to rub his eyes but stopped midair, only to let it flop back down onto his knees, “I think I had it coming for a long time. Anakin never really trusted me. And ever since my fake death... nothing was the same after that. I didn't want to take the mission, but the chancellor.... he was so… so insistent that only I could take on this role.” He huffed. “Well, in the end, I got the short end of the stick and had to do it. I was threatened that I couldn't tell anyone or there would be consequences for the Order."

Obi-Wan shifted next to her and Padme noticed that he was freezing. The air felt even colder as he spoke again. “Sometimes I wish that that sniper had aimed at my head. Or that I wouldn't have survived the fall afterwards.”

“Don’t talk like that,” her voice was soft, pained by his words.

Padme watched how he squeezed his eyes shut and suppressed a sob. The grip on the object in his hand suddenly slipped and it tumbled to the floor with a click.

Not quite knowing how to help him or if she was even allowed to touch him, she bent forward and picked the little thing which turned into a necklace with a pendant off the ground. The cord was made of black leather and from it hung an elongated metal pendant with a bluish shimmer. Definitely handmade. It took her a moment to realize what she was holding in her hands.

Her eyes grew wide. "Is that...?" She glanced at Obi-Wan, who had now rested his head on his legs and was staring sightlessly into the distance.

"Yes," he croaked, "That's beskar."

Mandalorian steel.

Only one person could have given that to him. "You got it from Satine, didn't you?" she ventured to ask, her eyes never leaving him.

He nodded shallowly and held out a trembling hand without turning to her. Looking at the pendant again for a moment, she then gently placed the necklace back in his palm where he clasped it directly and pulled it back to him. The Jedi was silent for a moment, obviously searching for words, but Padme did not press him.

"She gave it to me when she left Coruscant after the Death Watch negotiations," he muttered, his expression incredibly distraught and sad, "She said I should see it as a reason to come visit her again."

And the next time they saw each other, she was murdered.

Padme's thoughts drifted to the wooden pendant around her own neck that Anakin had once given her. It wasn't fair that someone else could have everything taken away from them in such a brutal way while she had everything she could wish for.

Except that it was her own husband that had taken so much from his own friend.

“I’m so sorry…,” she whispered, her heart clenching painfully.

Obi-Wan slipped the necklace back on and let it disappear underneath his shirt. His lips were pressed into a thin line.

“It’s not like you can change what happened,” he breathed, “And it’s definitely not your fault.”

“Maybe I should have talked to Anakin more. I’ve seen his anger brooding underneath his skin for a long time.”

Straightening his back, Obi-Wan let his head flop back against the wall. "I saw that too, it's just.... somehow, I felt like I was the cause and every time I tried to talk to him, I involuntarily made it worse." He paused. "I don't think you, as his wife, could have done much. And I wouldn't want Anakin to end up taking his anger out on you either."

Padme's breath caught in her throat. "You - you knew we were married? How? Did...?"

Obi-Wan's face twisted and he laughed hollowly.

"I knew there was something going on between you since Geonosis. I'm..." he faltered briefly, then regained his composure, "wasn't blind. That you were married I only found out by chance. Anakin doesn't know I overheard him." His voice became quieter toward the end and an almost uncomfortable silence fell between them.

Padme stared at him, unbelieving. “Since how long?”, she whispered.

He pursed his lips and turned his head a little in her direction, the wound almost glowing in the setting light of the sun. "Maybe a few months. You two had talked on the comm. And were obviously arguing - at least that's what it sounded like. I had come home from a mission earlier. Thought he was talking to Ahsoka at first... So I went to check and when I was standing in front of his door I caught his words... that I should never know, that I am not trustworthy, that I wouldn't understand what it was like to love someone... and that I would rat you out to the council at the first opportunity."

She remembered this conversation. She had tried to persuade Anakin into confiding into Obi-Wan but he had almost exploded at that suggestion. Also, she recalled that Anakin had stepped outside his door briefly during their discussion, thinking he had heard or sensed something - but had found the apartment empty.

“Anakin told me that he was alone that evening,” she spoke carefully, not wanting to make it even worse.

“Well, I…,” his voice was suddenly so hoarse, “I left after that. Might have gotten myself drunk. Crashed at Dex’s after that. Not particularly one of my highest moments.”

Before Padme could say anything, they were interrupted. A young Jedi entered the balcony, obviously a little nervous.

"Master Kenobi...," the girl spoke, fiddling with the sleeves of her tunic, "I'm sorry to interrupt you, but some council members are here to speak with you."

Beside her, Obi-Wan groaned exasperatedly and let his feet slide off the bench. "Great..."

He ran a hand along his neck before addressing the other jedi. “Thank you, Padawan Dellian. I’ll be inside in a few moments.”

Padme watched as the Padawan shuffled away and then turned back to Obi-Wan. "They probably want to talk to you about Anakin."

The Jedi Master slumped his shoulders wearily. "That's what I'm afraid of. You don't have to stay; I don't want to keep you."

"No. It's okay. I'll stay... If that's what you want."

He seemed to think about it for a moment before shaking his head. "I don't want to drag you into this."

Padme frowned. Obi-Wan was closing himself off again. "You can't drag me into something I'm already a part of, Obi-Wan. Let me help you."

Unseeing eyes met hers. "The Council knows nothing of you and Anakin. It should stay that way."

“Then they won't know either, but that won't stop me from supporting you."

Obi-Wan sighed and muttered something unintelligible before turning back to her. "Fine...," he looked a little uncertain and embarrassed, "Eh.... I could use a little help..."

He held out a hand in her rough direction, and Padme didn't hesitate to take it. Slowly he pulled himself up by her arm, swaying as he finally got to his feet. Padme tightened her grip on his arm, trying to make out something in his features. "Are you alright?"

"Just dizzy and a headache. That's all," he grumbled, "Let's go inside."

A little unsteadily, they moved back inside, where Padme spotted Master Windu and Master Mundi, already waiting. Not showing anything on her face, she proceeded with guiding Obi-Wan back to the bed where he sat down with a grunt, a pained frown on his face.

“Thanks,” he pressed out between clenched teeth, discomfort evident in his voice.

But before for Padme could ask him if she should fetch a healer, Master Windu stepped in her way. “Senator Amidala, I wasn’t aware that the temple was open for visitors again.”

Padme opened her mouth to respond, but it wasn’t her words that broke the silence.

“And I wasn’t aware I agreed to talk to you. Let her be, Mace,” Obi-Wan shot back from his position on the bed, unnaturally biting for his otherwise rather calm demeanor.

The Korun Master's face contorted as he turned to Obi-Wan. "I believe this conversation should remain among Jedi, Obi-Wan," he replied coolly. The man seemed on edge, as if he wanted to get something of his chest.

"Just as Ahsoka's trial should have been an internal affair," her friend laughed bitterly, "Don't be ridiculous. What do you want?"

Arms crossed, the Jedi wrinkled his nose in displeasure and let out an exasperated breath.  "We need to talk about Skywalker and Tano. They're both wanted after your dispute."

If Obi-Wan was surprised by this news, at least he didn't let on. "Get to the point," he rumbled.

The Jedi Master glanced at her briefly before continuing to speak. "We need your help to find them. You're the only one with a strong enough connection to both."

With surprising agility, Obi-Wan suddenly leapt to his feet, anger written all over his face. Although he could see nothing, he still seemed to know exactly where Windu was. His face inches from the face of the other Jedi, the wide-open, milky eyes seemed almost demonic. "After all you've done, you dare ask such a thing of me?" he hissed, "For the sake that we might have once been friends, you're lucky I don't report you, Mace. Anakin may have hurt me, but you don’t get to play innocent either."

Windu's eyes narrowed to slits. “I never claimed I was,” he growled.

If Windu perhaps had seemed apologetic before, he no longer did, Padme noted. The stony, blank expression was back. But Obi-Wan could not see all that.

Obi-Wan didn’t back down. "So you were aware of what could happen. The Senate would certainly agree with me that that would make you partly responsible for this incident."

“You’re going too far, Kenobi,” Master Mundi spoke up.

“I’m going too far?” Obi-Wan whipped his face around towards the Cerean, “All you ever did was using me to your wishes, even threatening me when I wasn’t functioning like I was supposed to. I gave you all I had,” he drawled, his voice was dripping with acid, “Tell you what, I’m done with all of you. If you’re not cowards, you proof Ahsoka’s innocence like we were supposed to from the start.”

His chest rising and falling rapidly, he turned away from the two council members.

“Now get out,” he snarled, his hands balling into fists at his side.

Master Windu looked like he was about to protest, but Mundi’s hand on his shoulder stopped him.

Instead, he took a step back, signing his defeat for now. As both men moved towards the door, Windu turned around for a last time before exiting. It looked like he wanted to say something but decided against it in the last moment. Instead, he left in silence.

Padme watched as the door swooshed shut behind them before turning back to Obi-Wan who had slumped back down on the bed in the meantime, his eyes squeezed shut and hands twisting in the blanket underneath him.

“You okay?” she asked concerned, “Should I get Master Che?”

“No,” he rasped, meekly shaking his head, “That wouldn't do any good. She already gave me painkillers before you came."

Her mind swiveled around how she possible could help him. “Is there anything I can do?”

"If you could bring me something to drink, I would be very grateful." It was a simple request that Padme was happy to oblige.

Easily spotting a sink and a cup, she moved quickly. Returning with the water in hand, she pressed the cup shallowly against his hand until he reached for it. She waited a moment for his trembling to subside before finally letting go of the cup.

After taking a few sips, he let the cup rest in his hand on his knee. He had lowered his head, would be staring somewhere at his feet if he was able to.

Padme looked at him for a moment. He looked incredibly tired, drawn out. Like he would crumble into pieces if you so much as nudged him. She was torn between being angry at her husband and putting up a front for Obi-Wan.

“You don’t need to pretend that you’re not angry.”

He had caught onto her again. Sighing, Padme sat down next to him. “I know. It’s just…  I can’t understand what has gotten into him.”

“Anakin felt like I betrayed him. Me not being there when he needed me was only confirmation for him that I did not choose his side.”

“Did he know that you were flying to Mandalore?”

Obi-Wan shook his head. “No. Although maybe I should have told him. It all happened so fast…,” he paused, taking a strained breath, “The council denied my request to help Satine… I didn’t know what to do. So I asked Anakin for his ship without giving him a real explanation as to why I needed it all off a sudden. It just didn’t feel right to tell him right then.”

He swallowed dryly. “Besides, Satine and I never got far beyond being friends," his voice was merely more than a whisper, "There just wasn't enough time..."

Padme knew that Satine had been hesitant. That she didn’t want to keep Obi-Wan from his duties, that she knew how much he loved to help others. That she just wasn’t able to take it all away from him even if she had wanted to for a long time.

 And now she was gone. Taking a part of Obi-Wan with her.

“What do you want to do now?”, she asked quietly, watching his hunched-over form.

He shrugged. “I don’t know…This temple… all of this… it just doesn’t feel like home anymore.”

Chapter Text

When her master apparently lost his voice, Ahsoka had enough. Infuriated, she snatched the key from his fingers and stormed off, ignoring how he called hoarsely after her. Tears streaming down her cheeks, she ran through the corridors of the hostel until she reached their room. She jammed the key into the lock, and then rushed inside, slamming the door behind her.

Overwhelmed, she tried to wipe the tears from her eyes, but she would not succeed. Sobbing, she sat down on the edge of the bed.

She could not - would not - believe what had happened. Within a few days she had lost everything. Her future, her home, her family.

A soft knock sounded at the door. Ahsoka wanted to ignore it.

"Ahsoka?" Anakin's broken voice sounded from the other side, "Please, let me in."

She remained silent, just staring at the door.

“Please, I know you’re in there,” he tried again.

Ahsoka knew he was able to simply open the door with the Force, but he did not. "Go away," she forced out, her anger and sadness overwhelming her.

"Let me explain," croaked Anakin, his anxiety radiating off into the Force.

Finally, she had had enough. "No!" she cried, "There's nothing to explain! Whatever has gotten into you.... I... I don't know who you are anymore! At least, not my master."

An oppressive silence followed and she knew her words had hit home. But she didn't care if Anakin was still there. She couldn't look at him, not now, maybe never again. It felt like a betrayal.

Numbly, she stared out the window, watching the raindrops leave streaks on the glass. Ahsoka just wanted to go home. Wherever that was. And she needed distance from Anakin. Because of him she wasn’t left in some kind of cell. Even though she wasn’t sure if that would have been worse than how things were now.

Making a decision, she got up again. She thought about opening the door and making a run for it. But she didn’t want to take chances with running into Anakin. Instead, she turned towards the window and pulled it open. Immediately raindrops hit her face as she climbed up onto the windowsill. She turned back one last time, letting her gaze linger on the door. Anakin was there, Ahsoka could feel it. Finally, she pushed herself off and jumped onto the roof ledge below.

The roof tiles were slippery when she landed on them. In the twilight, the red of the sun reflected on their wet surface, providing a stark contrast to the normally dull, dark colors of Coruscant.

Ahsoka shivered as she jumped down to the ground. Her clothes had been completely soaked before, and now the night chill was beginning to set in. Crossing her arms and lowering her head, she moved forward as unobtrusively as possible. She tried to blend in with the shadows, avoided the gazes trespassers shot her. Maybe she should have searched for a cloak before she left. But it didn’t matter now. Everything blended into nothingness for her.

Her thoughts drifted to her grandmaster. Ahsoka had only caught a glimpse of him during the trial. There had been so much pain and despair in his signature. Ahsoka could no longer find any of that steadying presence she had valued so much. Her Grandmaster was broken. An empty shell. She had not known the Duchess personally, but she had seen how the two had interacted. Sometimes she had heard Obi-Wan talking to someone over his commlink in the evening. Often after particularly hard missions. He had then sounded happier, as if a certain burden had been lifted from his shoulders. She knew now that he must have been talking to Satine.

She wanted nothing more than to return to the temple. To embrace her grandmaster. Simply that all this had never happened.

But of course, that was wishful thinking. She could not go back, perhaps never again. Who would prove her innocence? She could not do it alone. Especially not since her own master was now also a wanted criminal.

Her feet had carried her forward without her noticing. Nobody had recognized her; she had become too much one with the masses in the underground. When she looked up, she realized where her path had led her. Dex's diner. Ahsoka bit her lips. It was late and she could see that Hermoine, the waitress, had already turned the sign on the door. Closed. The bold letters burned themselves into Ahsoka’s head.

But somehow the Force urged her to go inside. The lights were still on. A small cleaning droid made its way over the tiled floor, leaving a wet, shiny trail behind.

Ahsoka knew that Dex was a good friend of Master Kenobi. Maybe, just maybe he could help her. It was risky, but she had to give it a try. Taking a deep breath, she pushed against the door, grateful that it was still open.

The bell above the door rang as she entered and Ahsoka stood awkwardly inside the empty diner, before a feminine voice called from the kitchen.

“Hey! We're…,” Hermoine shouted energetically, stomping into the room, "...closed." Her eyes grew wide as she recognized the Padawan. "Dex...!"

A grumpy snort sounded from the kitchen and Ahsoka heard heavy footsteps approaching. "What is it?" the Besalisk asked irritably as he wiped two of his hands on his apron. He didn't seem to have noticed her yet, because it wasn't until his employee shakily raised a finger and pointed at her that his eyes fell on her as well.

"Hello, Dex," Ahsoka murmured uncertainly.

The addressed stared at her, opened his mouth, only to close it again directly. Instead, he turned his head to Hermoine. "You can call it a day. I can handle the rest on my own."

The blonde briefly looked like she was about to protest, but Dex cut her off. "Come on, Hermoine. Go on home. And you haven't seen anything here."

She gave Ahsoka a quick look before nodding. "Whatever you say, boss. Don't catch any trouble."

Then she walked quickly past her and grabbed her coat. Both Dex and Ahsoka waited, spellbound, until the door closed behind her.

"Ahsoka...," he then said, shaking his head, "What.... what are you doing here?"

Suddenly Ahsoka wasn't so sure it had been a good idea to come here. "I... I'm sorry. I should go..."

Quickly, despite his rather bulky stature, he stepped forward and grabbed her arm. "No, it's okay," he cast a cautious glance out the window, "Come on." He let go of her again and shooed her toward the kitchen.

Still a little unsettled, Ahsoka followed silently.

"I didn't expect you to show up here," he eventually admitted when they finally had some privacy, "Are you okay?"

She was still a bit speechless, so she just managed a shallow nod. Dex, meanwhile, looked at her with concern, and Ahsoka sensed his uncertainty. She had gotten him into trouble with her appearance. Her stomach twisted painfully.

The Besalisk tilted his head. "How can I help you, kid?"

Ahsoka gnawed at her cheeks, crossing her arms tightly over her chest as if they would provide some kind of cover. “I guess… you heard what happened?”

"I don't think anyone has gotten around that news," he paused, studying her gaze, "But it wasn't you, was it?"

"No," she croaked hoarsely, "And yet I feel like I'm to blame for everything."

Before she could stop herself, the words spilled out of her. "If I hadn't insisted on being part of the investigation and hadn't agreed to talk to Tormund, then...," her voice broke and tears came to her eyes, "Then my master would never have done what he did.... everything would still be normal."

Ahsoka sobbed and wiped the tears from her eyes, but they didn't stop flowing. Through her blurry vision she barely noticed how Dex had stepped closer to her, his hand hovering over her shoulder as if he was unsure about touching her.

“Calm down, kid…,” he tried soothingly, “None of this is your fault.”

He waited patiently until her tears subsided before speaking again. “How does a hot meal and a little rest sound to you?”

It wasn't until Dex mentioned food that Ahsoka realized how hungry she was. "Thank you, Dex. That would be nice," she blurted out.

The Besalisk threw her a small smile. "Okay. I'll just lock up the front and I'll make you something."

Ahsoka glanced after him as he disappeared back into the front of the diner. Although he barely knew her, Dex hadn't turned her away. She couldn't say why she had decided to come here. Perhaps because she could no longer bear to be in the presence of her master. Or maybe because she had hoped to be able to run away from it all for a moment. From her past. Her fear. From herself. Exhausted, she settled down on a small stool in the corner and buried her head in her hands.

A little later, Dex returned, turning off the light behind him. He looked at her again, a little worried, but said nothing. Instead, he turned on the stove and routinely began to prepare the meal.

It didn't take him long to hold out a plate with a Nerfburger on it. A rather forced smile crept into Ahsoka's face as she accepted the food. "Thank you."

Her favorite dish. She couldn't even tell you how many times she had been here with Anakin and Obi-Wan. It only felt like a distant memory. How the two of them played jokes on each other. How they laughed together. Both liked to deny it again and again, but they had been sometimes more alike than they had wanted to admit. Just like brothers.

And now there was nothing. Absently, she swallowed the last bite of the burger. For a moment she sat still, staring at the empty plate as if it were able to turn back time and give her back her family. Her grip tightened. It wasn't fair.

And then the anger was back. Burning and biting, raging like an inferno inside her. Ahsoka let out a scream and with a bang the plate shattered on the floor.

Stunned, her eyes fixed on the pile of shards at her feet.

"Oh no...," Ahsoka jumped to her feet, "...I'm sorry." Before Dex could even make an attempt to stop her, she was already kneeling down, frantically trying to puck up the shards. Of course, it didn’t take long before one of the pieces caught on her skin. Hissing, Ahsoka jerked her hand back, eyes roaming over the bleeding gash inside her palm.

“Here,” Dex offered her a towel, "Hold this to the wound. I have a medkit upstairs in my apartment."

Ahsoka accepted the cloth and held it to her hand. It stung, but just then the pain helped her ground herself a little. Meanwhile, Dex had begun picking up the remaining shards, much more carefully than she had tried before.

Ashamed, she pressed her mouth into a thin line. "I should be better than this."

The Besalisk picked up the last shards and hummed. "Don't worry, even you Jedi can't always close yourself off from your emotions. It's normal to be angry in a situation like yours. I won't judge you for it."

He let his gaze roam the kitchen once more before opening the door that led to a stairwell. "Come on, let's go upstairs. Then I can tend to your hand and you can get some rest."

When she entered his apartment, she was admittedly surprised. It was small, but still beautiful. There were many plants in the room, some of which Ahsoka could identify as exotic spice or tea plants, while others she had never seen before. And it was warm. A stark contrast to the gloomy, rainy weather outside.

"Sit on the couch," he said, pointing to the piece of furniture, "I'll get the medkit."

Clutching the hand with the towel and holding it in front of her chest, she sat down. There was already a pillow and blanket at the foot of the couch, as if it was a regular occurrence for Dex to have someone sleeping here.

Dex came back with the kit and a large towel in his hand and placed both items on the coffee table, then opened the kit.

"Give me your hand," he said then, holding out his meaty, compared to hers, huge hand. Wincing, she took the towel from her palm and held out her injured hand to him. Despite his stature, he was careful and very precise as he first cleaned the wound and then covered it with a bactapatch. The cut still hurt, but not as bad as before.

Sighing, Ahsoka withdrew her arm and lowered her head. "Thank you... For everything I mean."

Dex grunted in response and eyed her carefully. He then handed her the large towel from the table. "You can dry off a little with this. I'm afraid I don't have any suitable clothes for you."

The padawan gratefully took the cloth from his hand and began rubbing it over her arms as if it would help her banishing the cold that had settled deep inside her.

"Now, would you like to tell me why you decided to come here?"

Ahsoka looked up to watch him, trying to discern if he was still uncomfortable in her presence. But there was nothing of the sort.  Just concern and somehow the feeling that he had sat here like this with someone before. She licked her dry lips before she spoke. "I don't know to be honest. It's just... all too much. I didn't know where to go. And suddenly I ended up here."

The Besalisk laughed harshly, a shallow grin on his face. "It's not the first time I've heard that."

She perked up at his words. "What do you mean?"

He nodded briefly toward the blanket and pillow. "Obi-Wan," he said, "The man has become a regular visitor lately." A frown appeared on his face. "I'm worried about him. He's become so… quiet, withdrawn… and sad.”

Her chest tightened as she thought about her grandmaster. “I don’t know if I’ll ever see him again,” she admitted quietly, “I can’t even tell if he’s alright.”

She had tried to reach out to him but the meager connection they shared had been muffled. How she wished it were different. That she would know the man, who had done almost as much for her training as her actual master, better.

Dex shifted on his feet and grabbed something of the table. “You know… I have his comm frequency. If you want to try, I mean.”

He held out the small device. Ahsoka swallowed thickly. What was she supposed to say?

Did he even want to hear anything from her? After everything that had happened?

As if Dex could read her mind, he pressed the commlink into her unbandaged hand. "Do it. He won't blame you.... He wouldn't be able to, he loves you way too much for that."

Ahsoka was sure that Master Kenobi had also loved Anakin like a brother. And yet she was no longer sure whether there was anything other than hatred between the two of them. Why should that be different for her? She had resented his choice to go undercover as Hardeen as well, hadn’t talked to him for weeks after that. Although they shared quarters, Anakin and she had managed to shut him out. He had started to disappear every now and then. Sometimes for hours, sometimes for days. Had taken solo missions. Just not to bother them more than necessary, when they obviously didn't want him there. In his own home. Only now did she realize how often her grandmaster had actually not come home in the evening. And it was also clear where he had been then. At least she hoped that he had ended up here.

Ahsoka felt like she was about to be sick again.  Her thumb hovered over the commlink. She needed to this. Not just for herself.

Drawing in a deep breath, she started the call. The device beeped. And beeped. It felt like an eternity, but then-

Nothing happened. The call ended.

‘The contact is not available,’ was displayed in glowing, green letters.

Letting her shoulders slump, the commlink fell into her lap. “He’s not answering.”

Dex frowned. "It doesn't have to mean anything, maybe he just doesn't have his commlink."

"Or maybe he just doesn't want to talk to me," she muttered before she could help herself and picked up the device to hold it out to Dex, "But thanks for trying anyway."

Carefully, he plucked the commlink from her hand. "That won't be it. Besides, he won't know it's you since you're calling from my device. So, if anything he doesn't want to talk to good old Dex."

It was a poor attempt at humor but still it made Ahsoka laugh a little, even if it only lasted a moment. "You're probably right. Maybe he's still in the Halls of Healing and no one brought him his commlink."

She paused. "I just hope Anakin didn't hurt him as bad as it looked."

But she couldn't get her hopes up. Things were looking grim. Not just for her. "Obi-Wan is strong," Dex tried to reassure her, though he sounded unconvinced, "You might want to try again tomorrow. Right now, you should get some rest."

Ahsoka nodded weakly. "That would probably be the best... even though I'm not sure I'll be able to sleep."

Dex scratched his chin as he thought about it. "Maybe I can help you with that. Hang on a sec."

With that he disappeared into the adjacent kitchen and began rummaging through the cabinets. Ahsoka craned her head from her spot on the couch, to catch a glimpse of what he was doing. After a moment he seemed to have found what he was looking for, because next he filled a pot with water and heated it on the stove. Dex was making tea, she realized.

It didn’t take long before the distinctive whistling of the kettle could be heard and Dex reentered the room with a steaming cup of tea in his hand. "Here. This is herbal tea," he said, handing her the cup, which immediately warmed her hands, "Helps you sleep... or if you're hungover."

"How did you figure that out?" she smirked as she took a sip, the tea helping her warm up.

Immediately, Dex’s face screwed up and Ahsoka wished she had never asked. Still, she got her answer. "Well...like I said, Obi-Wan was here a lot. Sometimes only after he got drunk in some bar before. I know he's capable of suppressing the effects of alcohol. But still, he didn't."

Ahsoka couldn't bring herself to look at him. "How many times?" she asked instead, feeling guilty.

The Besalisk merely shrugged his shoulders. “I didn’t count.”

The padawan set the cup down with a sigh and rubbed her temples. “It should have never gotten that far,” she mumbled, “That he felt like he needed to drink his worries away instead of talking to us."

Dex pulled up the armchair that was next to the couch and sat down. "Getting him to talk openly about his concerns is as impossible as convincing him that it's not all his fault. I know he still blames himself for what happened on Naboo – and probably for a lot of other things. The point is… that you’re not responsible for his decisions."

"Yes, but still I contributed to them," she shot back glumly, "After the thing with Hardeen.... my master and I had known that he wanted to talk to us. But we didn't listen. And then suddenly he was gone. And neither of us cared enough to go looking for him."

"We both know you care about him. And I know for a fact that he never doubted that."

Despite his soothing words, she didn't feel any better. She couldn't shake the feeling that she could have done more, shouldn't have been so ignorant and dismissive.

Sighing, Dex took the cup from the table and held it out to here again.  "You should drink it before it gets all cold."

As Ahsoka sipped her tea this time, a memory came up. She had just become Anakin's Padawan. After the battle on Christophsis, she had fallen ill. It had been nothing special, just the flu. But it had been enough that she was bound to the temple for the time being. Unfortunately, her master had to leave again, which was why she had stayed behind only with Master Obi-Wan. Although he himself had had a lot to do, he had always taken care of her. Especially by bringing her a warm tea again and again. After that, she had always felt better, even if she wondered if it had really been the tea.

Ahsoka emptied the cup in a few gulps and handed it back to Dex, who was still sitting in front of her. "Thank you, Dex."

"Sure, kid," he responded kindly, "Now lie down. You'll be safe here. And we'll see tomorrow."

Signing her defeat, she nodded curtly and then grabbed the blanket and pillow, lying down on the sofa. Dex got up from his seat and walked quietly in the kitchen, probably to put the dishes away, before disappearing into his own room.

When silence finally fell, she stared at the ceiling, thoughts circling in her head. She wanted to hope that everything could get back to normal.

Unfortunately, it was never that simple. Some broken things were not meant to be fixed.

Chapter Text

"There's nothing to explain! Whatever has gotten into you.... I... I don't know who you are anymore! At least, not my master."

The words stung. Anakin squeezed his eyes shut, letting his head flop against the door. But it was the truth. He had no right to call himself her master. Not anymore. Not after everything he had done.

Suddenly, all the strength he had gathered to keep himself upright faded into nothingness. His legs gave out and he let himself slide down the wall.

“Anakin… please listen to me."

Obi-Wan’s words still echoed inside his head. He had heard them. But never really listened. The way out had been that simple, just strike. Let him feel the pain he had felt under his skin for years. The feeling of not being at home here, of being an outsider. In some way he had let his master feel it, had excluded him from his life after his undercover mission. Had shown him that he was not welcome.

Anakin didn't understand how Obi-Wan could have done such a thing. Not after Qui-Gon had died in his arms.

But he had never asked for answers either. His trust had been broken, so he had seen no reason to rebuild it.

Still, he knew his anger had been misplaced. It had not been Obi-Wan who was to blame for everything. It had been the Jedi. The Council. But above all he himself.

The Chosen One. How he cursed that prophecy. Anakin had seen the fear in the eyes of the other Jedi, had fed on it. Had reinforced his conscience that he possessed powers no one else could control.

The only one who had never confronted him with that had been Obi-Wan. Not a word had he lost about the prophecy.

And yet he was the one who had taken the brunt of Anakin's anger on a daily basis.

Anakin pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. “I should have never left Tatooine. They should have never found me.”

Tears began to trail down his cheeks. For all the mistakes he had ever made in his life – this was the one he would never be able to come to terms with. He didn’t know how to make amends. He had destroyed everything in just a few seconds. Just because he didn’t know how to control himself.

Sniffing, Anakin pulled his head up again and let it rest against the wall. His fingers ghosted over the commlink on his arm. He thought about calling his wife.

How right she had been. She had warned him of what could happen. Had begged him to speak with his master. But Anakin didn’t listen. He had always been stubborn and wanted to get his head through the wall. No matter whether he was right or wrong. He had gotten away with it for too long.

Maybe he deserved that, being hated. Padme had every right to ignore him, to hate him, even to divorce him.

But still, he had to talk to her. At least he should try to explain himself. With that, Anakin heaved himself to his feet and wiped the tears from his eyes. When he reached out with the Force, he found that Ahsoka was long gone. Silently he stared at the closed door. He knew he should let her go for now. Only he hoped that she knew where she was going. And that maybe she could forgive him someday.

Anakin pulled his hood deep into his face, walked down the hall, past the receptionist and out into the pouring rain.

He had only one goal. 500 Republica. Nightfall gave him the protection he needed as he approached a parked speeder. No one gave him a second glance. Anakin deftly swung himself into the pilot's seat and tampered with the cables under the controls. It didn't take long for him to hotwire the vehicle and bring the engine to life. It was an outdated model, but he could fly just about anything. As he set off, he wondered if maybe he should have been a pilot after all. But no, he had wanted more. To be a Jedi. To help others.

Anakin bit into his cheeks. Instead of helping, he had hurt the ones he trusted most, cast them out. His fingers tightened around the wheel, his prosthetic almost leaving marks. He wondered if he would be able to face Obi-Wan ever again. He couldn’t take back what he had done – or what he said. The damage was done.

Lost in thought Anakin almost automatically landed the speeder between the tall buildings and hopped out. He looked up to where he knew Padme’s apartment was, rain drops blurring his vision. He wasn’t so certain anymore if he wanted to do this.

Maybe he should just disappear. Leave it all behind. His life. His family, his friends. Who he used to be.

“No,” Anakin muttered to himself, tearing his gaze away. He couldn’t run from his mistakes forever. Not anymore. For far too long, he had sought the faults of others. Never with himself. It had been simple. His ego had grown with his power. But with it also the attitude that he was infallible, invincible. Obi-Wan had been right. After one of Anakin's outbursts, his master had said words that he had not forgotten to this day.

One day your anger will get the better of you if you don't learn to control yourself, Anakin. And I don't know if I will be there to stop you.

Obi-Wan had left him alone after that, an expression of disappointment carved into his face  as he shut the door behind him. Anakin had called him a coward after that. How wrong he had been.

He still stood in front of the apartment complex, contemplating about his master’s words. Obi-Wan hadn’t stopped him. Hadn’t even lifted a hand to stop the strike. His stomach twisted painfully. Had his master foreseen what he was about to do?

That Anakin would ultimately be his downfall?

He unhooked the lightsaber from his belt with a trembling hand. Lightsaber wounds didn’t bleed. And yet he almost felt the blood that was now clinging to the weapon, to his hands. The pain and fear he had caused with it.

Obi-Wan’s scream echoed in his head. That broken whisper of his name when he had turned to leave the man who had raised him.

Anakin's fingers slipped from the cylinder in his hand. With a wet thud the weapon dropped down into the mud. He stared at it, numbness overwhelming his senses.

This weapon is your life.

No. It wasn’t anymore. He didn’t know where his place was now. The place he had called home was his no longer. Anakin swallowed thickly and picked the sword back up from the ground.  His fingers traced the scratches and nicks on the surface, remembering how they got there. How many times he had saved a life with it. And how many times he had taken one.

Detached, he lowered the weapon to his side and focused back at the apartment block in front of him. It was time.

His wet boots squeaked on the floor as he hesitantly entered the complex. Immediately he was surrounded by beautiful painted walls and pristine floors, a cleanliness that contrasted harshly with the rest of Coruscant. That had always been something that had bothered him. Anakin needed a little chaos to feel comfortable. He had often infuriated Obi-Wan with it, but at some point his master had given up on it.

A shallow smile stretched across his face. He could still remember the day when Obi-Wan had discovered that Ahsoka was just as much of a mess as her master. His friend had stared at them both in disbelief for a moment before silently turning around and marching into the kitchen to pour himself a not-so-small glass of whiskey.

Both of them had insisted that they weren’t that bad but Obi-Wan had merely shook his head, taking another swig from the glass.

Now that memory left a sense of bitterness behind. His smile faded again as quickly as it had appeared. He had destroyed everything he had held dear. And probably had not only torn his own life apart, but Obi-Wan’s as well. Hearing that Satine had died right before all of this had happened… it explained why his master hadn’t been able to be much help. Anakin could only imagine how grief and shock must have been eating him up from the inside.

And what had he done instead of helping his brother? He destroyed maybe the last anchor Obi-Wan had had that kept him from falling into that dark hole.

His lightsaber still in his hand, Anakin trailed towards the elevators, leaving muddy footprints on his path. He pressed the button and the doors opened smoothly with a soft ping, revealing its mirrored interior.

His reflection kept staring back at him, tired blue eyes peeking out underneath the hood. Anakin had never felt more out of place.  Lowering his gaze, he stepped inside and turned around to face the still open door. His finger was hovering above the button that would bring him up to Padme’s apartment, as he noticed the little droid. With a little wipe in front of it, the little droid pushed forward, removing Anakin's muddy footprints, leaving a shiny trail behind. With a whir, it bumped against his feet, then emitted a displeased-sounding beep and moved back. Entranced, Anakin screwed up his face and at first glanced after the cleaning droid until his gaze caught on a small speck of dirt just in front of the tops of his feet.

"You missed a spot," he muttered to himself, somehow resigned, and hit the elevator button with a bit more force than necessary.

The door swooshed shut and the lift began to move. His heart pounded in his chest and Anakin fought to get air into his lungs. He was afraid. After all the things he had encountered over the years, he was afraid of this. Of the reaction of his own wife.

Anakin involuntarily flinched as the lift grinded to a halt and announced its arrival with a ping. With a heaviness in his steps, he stepped out into the hallway and headed for the door that led to her apartment. Absently, he pulled the dripping wet hood from his head, his equally wet hair falling into his face. As he arrived in front of the door, he briefly thought about using the biopad to open the it since his imprint was stored on it, but then decided against it. Instead, he knocked and waited.

Nothing happened. Frowning, Anakin knocked again, this time a little louder. "Padme? It's me... Please, we need to talk."

Again, no answer was heard. He reached out with the Force and realized that his wife was indeed not home. Where could she be now?

Making a decision, Anakin put his hand on the scanner and entered the apartment.

Nothing looked out of the ordinary as he stepped into the living room. As always, the room was neatly made, just the way Padme preferred it.

“Master Ani, what a surprise!”, a voice suddenly piped up from somewhere across the room and Anakin turned to look at the new arrival. C-3PO. Of course.

Groaning inwardly, he put on a forced smile. “Hello, 3PO,” Anakin said and before the droid could start with babbling nonsense, he quickly added, “Where is Padme?”

The droid stalked further into the room, its golden color shimmering as if it had just been polished. "Oh, she suddenly left in a hurry. Just mumbled that she had to get to the Jedi Temple."

Anakin’s breath got caught in his throat.

Padme knew. And instead of looking for him, she went to the jedi temple. To Obi-Wan.

A pang of jealousy and also anger surged through him before he knew better.

Unwanted. Second choice. Outcast. Monster. The words echoed in his head, stoking the fire inside of him.

“No,” he muttered silently, shaking his head, “That’s not right.” He carded one of his hands through his damp hair, the other still clamped around the lightsaber.

“Will you leave me for a moment...?” he asked then, his voice unnaturally unsteady, “I need… to think.”

3PO looked at him with his big yellow photoreceptors and probably would have tilted his head if he had been able to. But thankfully the protocol droid didn’t push the subject und instead started to leave again. “As you wish,” he said with his typical tinny voice and disappeared around the corner.

When he was finally alone again, he let out a breath he hadn't even been aware he had been holding.  He dragged himself over to the couch and dropped down, placing the lightsaber carelessly on the table in front of him.

Anakin didn't know why he hadn't expected Padme to decide to check on Obi-Wan. The two had always been friends, even if he had never wanted to admit it. What was he doing now? His heartbeat quickened again and Anakin felt a panic attack begin to creep up on him. He needed to talk to someone.

With trembling fingers, he picked up his commlink and stared at the small black device before hesitantly dialing the ID.

He hadn't called her in a long time. Maybe he should have.

With a crackle, the connection established and a feminine voice answered.

"Hello?"

Anakin's throat was suddenly dry as he answered. "Hello, Mum."

"Ani? Is that you? Oh my gosh, I haven't heard from you in a long time." Her voice was filled with joy and somehow that made his heart ache.

"I know, I'm sorry. It's just... a lot happened."

A moment of silence followed before Shmi said something again. "Is everything okay? You sound depressed."

He suddenly remembered going to Tatooine together with Obi-Wan when he was younger. The nightmares had plagued him so much that he almost woke up every night, screaming his lungs out until his master had somehow managed to wake him up. Both of them had been shaken to the core by this and neither of them had been able to ignore the issue any longer, even though they had started to avoid each other after this. Their arguments had gotten worse before this, reaching their peak when Anakin literally told Obi-Wan that he wished that Qui-Gon would have been his master. The silence that followed had stretched on and Anakin had gotten angrier as the time passed. Maybe it had been the lack of sleep or maybe it was the knowledge that he would not receive help from the jedi. It didn’t matter anymore.

Obi-Wan had simply woken him up one morning, telling him that they were going on a trip. Anakin had been confused, had almost refused to go because he didn’t really have the energy to deal with his master.

“Just leave me alone,” Anakin grumbled, turning over and pulling the blanket over his head.

His master stood in the doorway with his arms crossed, the lines of exhaustion carved deeply into his face. “Come on, Anakin. At least give me the chance.”

“You had your chance,” he grunted in annoyance, trying to block out the other man's presence.

Obi-Wan sighed and turned to leave. "If that's the way you want it, then stay here. Shall I at least give your mother a message?"

Immediately he was on his feet.

"Is this a bad joke?" he hissed as he stomped over to Obi-Wan and glared angrily at him.

"Why would I lie?" his master countered him wearily, seemingly unaffected by Anakin's anger, "So we can continue to fight...? And make you hate me even more than you already do?"

Somewhere this had struck a nerve inside him, but he hadn't dared say anything about it.

"So you're serious about this? We're going to Tatooine?" he asked incredulously.

Obi-Wan shrugged his shoulders. "If you don't want to, all you have to do is say so. I won't force you."

Anakin couldn't remember ever being ready faster. When they had finally set out, an almost uncomfortable silence had hung between them again, and that hadn't changed much when they had finally landed near Mos Espa. He had immediately walked ahead in the direction of Watto's store, hoping to find his mother there. Instead, he had only found the Toydorian who, after a little more or less forceful persuasion, had told him where his mother was.

Obi-Wan had silently accompanied him, hadn’t even said a word when he had threatened Watto. It wasn't until they were both in a speeder, Obi-Wan in the driver's seat for once, that Anakin had decided to say something.

"It's not true," he murmured, his gaze fixed on the redhead.

His master didn't look at him, his eyes still roving over the endless amounts of sand as he drove the rust bucket forward. "What do you mean?" he asked anyway.

Anakin swallowed. "What you said this morning. I don't hate you. And I'm sorry that I wished Qui-Gon was here and not you. I know you're trying your best."

Still Obi-Wan didn't look at him, but Anakin noticed a hint of sadness enter his eyes, and his grip on the steering wheel became almost steely. When he tried to reach him through their training bond, he hit a wall that seemed impenetrable.

Resigned, he pulled back and looked at Obi-Wan. "Master, please... I know that..."

He was interrupted when the other suddenly stopped the speeder. “I think we're here,” said Obi-Wan, pointing at a small hut ahead.

Anakin looked ahead, noticed the small, makeshift building. His heart felt like it was about to jump out of his chest. Seven years. That’s how long he hadn’t seen her. He was sixteen now. Hesitantly he got out of the speeder, starting to walk towards the hut until he noticed that Obi-Wan still hadn’t moved from his spot.

“You’re not coming?”, he asked, turning around again to face his master.

“Do you want me to?”, Obi-Wan returned simply, as if he actually expected his padawan to say no.

“Of course,” Anakin answered, the all-familiar sting in his chest returning, together with that sense of wrongness.

They had walked the short distance together and Anakin had finally met his mother again, together with her husband Cliegg. She was no longer a slave, had finally earned her freedom. For a few hours, Anakin’s world felt complete. But when they were about to leave again, he hadn’t felt comfortable of the two staying on Tatooine.

“I don’t want you to stay here, mum,” he said, pulling her into a tight hug.

“We'll be fine, Anakin,” she tried to calm him, running a hand through his hair, “I promise.”

Anakin vehemently shook his head. “No, you don’t understand,” he shot a look at Obi-Wan who had stepped back to give the family some space, “I've been having dreams… of you dying.”

“Oh, Ani,” she caressed his cheek with her hand, “I know that Tatooine is a dangerous place but I assure you that I am safe here with Cliegg. Besides, we can’t afford to move to another planet.”

He bit his lip, thoughts running through his head. “I’m sure if I ask Pad… Senator Amidala, that she will be able to help us out.”

Again, his mother shook her head. “Ani, we can't…”

But before she could end her sentence, Obi-Wan interfered. “Ms. Skywalker, I don’t want to sound rude, but I think your son is right. You shouldn’t stay here.”

Shmi sighed and pulled away from the embrace. “And where do you suggest we go then, Master Kenobi?”

Obi-Wan suddenly looked a bit insecure and swallowed thickly, but still he kept his voice steady. “Well, there is a small farm on Stewjon… the place is a bit rundown and the barn needs to be rebuilt because a fire destroyed it but… with a bit of work it could definitely be called a home.”

Anakin hadn't realized what Obi-Wan was suggesting at the time. Stewjon. The name had sounded somehow familiar in the back of his mind. But back then he had been much too euphoric that there was an option to get his mother away from Tatooine. He had asked no questions. Neither how Obi-Wan knew about the farm, nor why he seemed so absent and depressed when he mentioned it. For him it had only mattered that they had managed to convince Cliegg and his mother.

They had brought the two to Stewjon after this.  Obi-Wan became dangerously quiet again the longer they stayed. He obviously didn’t want to remain there longer than necessary so Anakin took mercy and said goodbye to his mother after they had helped them to set up the most necessary things. He felt like a heavy burden had been lifted of his chest. But still, not everything was alright.

On their flight back to Coruscant he had finally gained the courage to address the issue.

“Is there something you want to tell me?”, he queried, eyeing the man next to him carefully.

Obi-Wan shook his head. “No. It’s fine.”

“You’re acting strange,” he pushed further, trying to get through to his master.

“The visit just stirred up some memories, that’s all.”

Anakin furrowed his brows, confused. “What memories? What do you…?”, he stopped himself as it suddenly dawned on him, “Stewjon is your home planet.”

“Yes.” Obi-Wan answered tight-lipped avoiding his padawan's gaze.

“And the farm belonged to… your parents?”

He only got a shallow nod in response but it was confirmation enough. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, “I didn’t know.” They had to be dead.

“It’s okay,” his master muttered absently, “I wouldn’t have offered it if I didn’t want them to have it. At least like this the place at least gets a purpose again and you don’t need to worry anymore.”

“If you say so,” Anakin mumbled, still unconvinced.

They hadn’t talked about it ever again. It only came up years later, when Ahsoka had found an ominous envelope at some point while cleaning up the living room, somewhere far up on a shelf. She had given it to Anakin, who had then opened the envelope after short moment of hesitation. Inside had been an official letter from Stewjon. He had read two names which at first meant nothing to him, until he had seen the last name. Kenobi. Hectically he had read on, suddenly having a bad feeling about it.

Accident… Fire... We are regret to inform you that they did not make it out…

It was dated about 6 years ago. One year before they had gone and picked up his mother from Tatooine.

Silently he had folded the letter and put it back into the envelope, trying to close it again. Then he had given it back to Ahsoka, telling her to put it back and forget she had ever seen it.

Anakin somehow felt sick, as he stared at the commlink in his hand.

“Anakin? Are you still there?”, his mother asked suddenly, concerned.

“Yes… sorry. I must have drifted off,” he forced out, trying to hide the quivering in his voice, “I am fine. Just wanted to check if you’re doing well.”

"Oh, of course… me and Cliegg are doing well. The farm is thriving. You wouldn’t believe it. Maybe you and Master Kenobi want to come and visit us again."

He couldn’t tell her. He didn't have it in him. His mother had always been so proud of him. It would break her heart, to know what her dear son had done.

No, he couldn’t tell her. Even if that was the wrong decision.

“Sure,” he said instead, “We’ll see when we have some time to spare.”

A noise could be heard from the other end of the line and Anakin heard how his mother spoke to someone.

"Sorry, Ani," she then spoke up again, "Cliegg needs my help with something, we can talk again later, okay?"

"Of course," he attempted to sound composed, "Don't let me stop you."

"Take care of yourself. And give my regards to your master."

Anakin laughed shallowly. "Will do. See you, Mum."

The line disconnected. And then the silence was back. And with it, the dark thoughts, the fear. With shaky fingers Anakin put his commlink on the table, next to his lightsaber. He finally had to do the right thing.

A small piece of paper and a pen lay on the table and Anakin quickly wrote down a few words, before he placed the note next to the rest of his things and stood up with the intention to leave.

As he reached the elevator he glanced back for a last time. He needed to do this. Not just for his own sake, but also for everyone he held dear.

As the lift door closed behind him, the note was left on the table, somehow sealing his doom.

Only one sentence was written down on it:

I'm sorry.

Chapter Text

His heartbeat thrummed in his head. But it's no calm and even beat. It’s an aggressive pounding that drowns out all the other sounds. And it makes Obi-Wan’s head hurt. He shifts his hands on his head, trying to ease some of the pressure, but it was futile. The hammering remained. Only when a soft hand landed on his shoulder, he managed to break through the haze. His head snapped up, eyes trying to see what they could not.

“Obi-Wan?”

Padme. Right. He had almost forgotten that she was still here.

“Sorry,” he muttered, running a shaky hand through his hair, “Were you saying something?”

A moment of silence followed and he wondered if he had just imagined her being there. But then she finally spoke again. “I…”, she hesitated, “It’s not that important. You don’t look so good, Obi-Wan.”

As if he didn’t know that. Obi-Wan hated when people saw him like this. Weak. Vulnerable. The pounding in his head kept him from formulating a real answer, so he just let out a more or less audible hum.

He knew that Padme was right. He didn’t feel good. But somehow, he couldn’t bring himself to admit that. Suddenly ice-cold fingers brushed against his forehead. Obi-Wan hissed at the sudden sensation and jerked his head back. A spike of fear shot through him, his body demanding him to jump up and get away from the obvious threat.

But for once the rational part of his mind won. He was safe. No one was hurting him. His heart pounded so fast that it almost felt like he was suffocating. Obi-Wan leaned forward, one hand pressed against his chest, the other clamped around his knee with a bone-crushing grip.

"Please don't ever do that again," he rasped.

He felt her settle down next to him on the bed. "I'm sorry. But you definitely have a fever."

That would explain, at least in part, why he felt so bad. Aside from the obvious facts. Suddenly he was freezing again, and he couldn't manage to suppress a shiver.

Beside him, Padme heaved a sigh and stood up again. "I'll go get Healer Che. She should really take a look at this."

Before Obi-Wan could stop her, she had disappeared from the room. Another tremor ran through his body. Suddenly, he felt sick. He leaned forward and squeezed his eyes shut, even though he knew it wouldn't do any good. His head was spinning. As if he were caught in a permanent free fall.

"Obi-Wan?" Again, he hadn't noticed anyone approaching him. He wanted to answer, but the nausea wouldn't allow it.

"Can you raise your head for me for a moment?"

As little as possible, he shook his head. And again, everything was spinning, turning him upside down. Even though he couldn't see it.

He vaguely heard someone kneel down in front of him and touch him gently on the arm. Obi-Wan had to suppress the impulse to flinch away.

"Are you sick?"

A short nod was all he managed before his body finally gave up. Fortunately, Master Che had been quick enough to produce a bucket and push it towards him, so that he reflexively pulled it towards him.

While his stomach was getting rid of his rather meager meal, the healer moved away from him again.

"Perhaps you had better leave now, Senator. I think Master Kenobi needs some rest."

"Of course," came Padme's gentle voice from the other corner of the room, "I'll check in tomorrow if that's okay."

He didn't deserve her, Obi-Wan thought quietly. Somewhere Padme reminded him of Satine. Loving, empathetic. His heart contracted painfully at the thought. And he brought unhappiness to these people. It felt again as if someone had stuck his head under water. He could no longer follow the conversation and so he did not notice how Padme left the room.

The smell of vomit pulled him back to reality. Someone reached for the bucket. "Are you feeling any better now?" asked Master Che, suddenly close to him again.

"Maybe a little," he choked out and let go of the bucket, only to be handed a wet cloth and a cup instead.

"You can rinse your mouth out a little if you like, the bucket is still right in front of you."

With shaky hands, he took a sip of the water, banished the stale taste from his mouth, and spit it back out, hoping to at least hit the bucket. Master Che at least said nothing, but waited patiently until he was finished.

He wiped the wet cloth over his clammy skin. It felt cold even though he knew that it probably was rather warm.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice rough. The healer took the cup and the cloth from him again, apparently together with the bucket as the smell finally disappeared.

“Sorry for the mess,” Obi-Wan mumbled. Vokara reappeared again after a moment, sitting down on one of the stools, its screeching sound the only indicator for him to know where she was.

“I'm a healer, Obi-Wan,” she retorted softly, “I’ve seen worse than this. And there definitely is no need to be sorry for something you can not control.”

He hummed quietly, unconvinced. Another shiver ran through his body.

Vokara apparently noticed that. “Are you cold?”

He nodded meekly. “Yes. Even though, sometimes I feel like I just took a detour to Hoth and sometimes I feel like I am walking through the deserts of Tatooine.”

“I see. Come on, lay down.” She somehow managed to pull the blanket from underneath him as he shifted into a lying position. Only a second later, he felt how the blanket was pulled over him. But the cold remained, having manifested in his bones.

"I need to take your temperature," the healer then said and started looking for something in the drawers until she finally found it. "Don't be alarmed, I'm going to touch your ear."

In response, something cold pressed against his ear until finally a continuous beeping sounded.

"Hmm," he heard Vokara grumble, turning his head on the pillow in her direction.

"You don't sound very delighted," he noted wearily.

"Your fever is higher than expected," she confirmed to him, "I'll have to look at your eyes again. Has the pain gotten worse?"

"No," he replied uncertainly, suddenly feeling a little uncomfortable.

"Okay, that's something. Can you open your eyes as far as you can for me?"

He did as instructed, feeling a burning sensation and tears welling up in his eyes.

"Still very red, but otherwise no new abnormalities," the healer muttered to herself, even though Obi-Wan had no idea what she was doing, "Good, you can close your eyes again if you like."

He blinked a few times, but the stinging and pain remained. "So?" he queried.

"Your eyes are not to blame for your fever. I think the stress is catching up with you so slowly."

His eyes began to fall shut. He just wanted to sleep.

Maybe forever.

"Hey, you need to stay awake for a moment," Vokara breathed softly, suddenly sounding like she was very far away from him, "Let me give you something for your fever."

Obi-Wan wasn't aware if he had given a response or just continued to stare blankly ahead. It was also irrelevant as she injected him with something and the blanket was pulled a little higher afterwards.

He didn't notice when she left the room as merciful sleep swept him away.

And then he saw her again. With her blonde hair, that smile he had fallen in love with years ago. She was just standing there, her arms spread open as if she wanted to embrace him.

Obi-Wan knew this was not real. Satine was dead. And he could not see.

Still, he let himself be trapped in that illusion and stepped forward into her arms. He did not find the warmth he craved so much there. Obi-Wan could not feel her touch. His hands moved right through her. Even in his dreams he was not set free of his burden. The reminder that she was gone and he was still there remained.

Satine smiled up to him, her blue eyes shining. “You’re here,” she whispered. Her hand moved up as if she wanted to caress his beard, but again he could feel nothing.

“I’m so sorry,” he choked out, “It should have been me.”

"You can't undo what's been done, my dear.”

Obi-Wan shook his head, tears welling in his eyes. “Please forgive me.”

Her hand fell away again. And suddenly her face contorted, blood pooling from her mouth. Obi-Wan looked down and found the wound in her abdomen the darksaber had left behind. Again, he wore that dreadful red Mandalorian armor. Satine’s hand stretched out to him and he knew he would have found her bloody handprint on his cheek if any of this would be real.

“No,” he breathed frantically, trying to grasp onto her. Satine was fading right in front of him. Again.

“Please don’t go,” he pleaded as she vanished, but it was futile. She began to dissolve. At last, her wide eyes, which still haunted him, disappeared.

Obi-Wan was left in darkness again. He noticed only moments later that he must have woken up. His skin was even more clammy than before and his face was streaked with dried tears. The pendant around his neck clung to his skin and suddenly he felt aware of its weight more than ever. She wouldn't want him to drown himself in self-pity. But the guilt - just the conscience that her blood was on his hands - threatened to crush him.

And no one could take that away from him. No mind healer. No well-intentioned word of a friend.

For the first time in days, Obi-Wan stretched out his senses. The temple was quiet around him, except for the unfortunate souls that lay awake in the Halls of Healing – like him. He felt their pain and exhaustion. And like many times before Obi-Wan cursed the force-forsaken war.

The Force felt different. Before he had used it to support for his senses. But now he needed it to see. It was strenuous to gather all the information of his surroundings his eyes had normally supplied.

After a few minutes, Obi-Wan gave up again, the fever getting the better of him. He laid back down, staring ahead into the darkness for a moment more. This was his reality now. This darkness. The fact that he lost his family.

His eyes drifted shut and sleep took him again, but this time Obi-Wan was spared of a dream.

He was awakened hours later by unnaturally loud voices in the halls of healing. It sounded like an argument.

"... He's in no shape to worry about that!" That was Master Che. Energetic - and visibly upset.

Obi-Wan frowned and sat up, trying to listen to the conversation.

"He deserves to know," a calm voice replied, "It wouldn't be fair to keep it from him. Not after everything that's happened."

Straining, he tried to place the voice, but the wall between them didn't make it any easier.

"I have to disagree. As his healer, my patient's health must come first. And he's definitely not getting better, Plo. On the contrary, his health is deteriorating again."

Plo was here. "Don't get me wrong, Vokara," his friend tried, "but it's only a matter of time before he finds out. He shouldn't have to find out by accident."

Obi-Wan had heard enough. A little awkwardly, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and let his bare feet rest for a moment on the cold floor. For a moment he threatened to feel sick again, but he suppressed the urge. Taking a deep breath, he then stood up, one arm still resting on the bed. His legs did not hold him. With a yelp he crashed painfully to his knees on the tiles. Face contorting, Obi-Wan bit his tongue. He paused briefly, listening to see if anyone had heard him. But that didn't seem to be the case as the argument continued outside the door.

Clenching his jaw, he gripped onto the bed railing beside him and heaved himself up again. With an iron grip he held onto it. His breath came in gasps, this little activity already being strenuous for him. After he was at least somewhat sure to have regained enough strength that he would not faint at the next attempt, he slowly straightened up.

Again, he swayed on his legs, but remained upright at last. "Come on," he muttered to himself, "you haven't forgotten how to walk."

Carefully, he pushed his foot forward, feeling the grout of the tiles slide under his sole. When he had more or less taken the first step, he finally let go of the railing and stretched out his arms to feel his way forward. He knew that the door to the corridor must be to his right, if his ears were not betraying him.

Slowly he moved forward, pushing his feet more or less ahead to feel where exactly he was stepping. At some point he felt the wall with his hand and let it slide along it until he came upon the door frame. At least that's what he thought. The voices were now very close.

Obi-Wan approached the door and felt for the button that was supposed to open it. When his fingers finally found the small panel, he didn't hesitate to press it. With a hiss, the door opened and immediately the conversation fell silent.

Although he could not see, he knew that two pairs of eyes were on him.

"Obi-Wan, you shouldn't be up," Vokara began immediately, back in healer mode. He heard her coming closer and only raised his hand to stop her.

"What am I not supposed to know?" he asked straight out. A moment of silence passed and for a moment Obi-Wan thought the fever was making him delusional.

"I really don't think now is the time," Master Che tried again, trying to reach for his arm, but Obi-Wan was quicker, now getting angry.

He turned in the direction he suspected Plo was standing. "I'll ask you again. What don't you want me to know?" he hissed.

"Calm down, Obi-Wan," his friend spoke up in response, "I will tell you, but maybe you should sit down for this."

Beside him, he felt Vokara fuming. "I don't believe it," she grumbled, "But fine, Plo, you're responsible now."  Thereupon she turned around and moved away with clacking steps.

“Great,” Plo sighed, “That went well.”

Obi-Wan crossed his arms. "I don't know which one of you had the glorious idea to argue outside my door, but if you didn't want me to know, you would have had to pick another place to have the conversation. You two were unmistakable."

"She stopped me just before I could enter your room," Plo said apologetically, "Now come on, let's go inside, you're shaking."

Obi-Wan nodded briefly, now also realizing that the strength was leaving him again, and wanted to take a step back to make room for Plo. But his foot slipped and he lost his balance. It was his luck that Plo was close enough to grab his arm that he would not fall again today.

As the other Jedi pulled him back up, Obi-Wan rubbed his temple with his free hand, as if that might soothe his headache.

"Vokara wasn't exaggerating when she said you were sick, huh?" murmured Plo.

"It's nothing more than a cold," Obi-Wan grumbled, "The dizziness just makes me struggle more than it would otherwise."

"I see. It's just a few more steps to your bed."

This time Obi-Wan didn't protest as Plo held his arm as he led him over, not really trusting his own legs anymore.

When he finally sat down on the mattress, he raised his head even though he couldn't see Plo. "What is so important that you stood up against the rage of our healer?"

Surprisingly, the Kel'Dor sat down next to him on the bed. "There are actually several things I wanted to tell you. But first - here."

Something was pressed into his hand. Confused, Obi-Wan frowned.

"Your commlink," Plo enlightened him, "I thought you might want that back."

He stroked his fingers over the small device. "Thank you... But how am I supposed to use this? I can't read."

With his thumb, he pressed the button that activated the holoprojector that would normally now show him his messages.

"I know, but you can set the device to read the text to you," Plo replied, "I didn't want to change anything without your permission."

Obi-Wan simply held the device out to him again. “Just go ahead.”

He heard Plo fiddle with the device for a moment before it was handed back to him.

“Here, now it should work. You have a missed call, by the way. From Dex.”

Dex. Somehow Obi-Wan had not thought about the Besalisk at all. But of course, the man would worry about him, even though their friendship was more than strange.

He set the commlink down next to him and redirected his focus back to Plo. “Maybe I will call him back later. I guess this was not the thing you wanted to talk about with me?”

His friend chuckled before falling silent again. “No. I'm afraid not. But we are not there yet.”

A clicking sound sounded as Plo apparently took something from his belt but this time Obi-Wan did not need his eyes to know what his friend was holding. He felt it.

“My lightsaber,” he breathed, taking it from the others hands, “Why do you have it?"

Plo huffed. "Well, actually, Mace was going to give it back to you, along with an apology. But apparently your last conversation didn't go so well."

"And let me guess," Obi-Wan joked dryly, "He didn't have the balls to talk to me again."

"Take it any way you want," chuckled his friend, "The fact is, he should never have taken it from you. The council hasn't agreed on how yet, but there will be a penalty for that, too."

As if that would bring his eyes back. Or would have prevented Anakin from turning on him. Obi-Wan kept these thoughts to himself.

Instead, he muttered, "I hope they don't forget what the real problem is with all this."

"I know. I've talked to the men of the 501st and 212th, they want to help prove Ahsoka's innocence. The council has agreed to that. Already the first leads have been found."

Obi-Wan nodded shallowly. "That's good. How are the men doing? The situation is certainly not easy for them right now."

"Rex and Cody keep them together. Most fear the units will now be split up."

That's what he had been worried about. "We can't do that to them."

"I know that... listen, Obi-Wan," Plo paused for a moment, "I've offered to take over both units.... If you should decide to retire from duty."

Obi-Wan mulled over what he had heard, letting the words sink in. "Thank you, Plo... If I'm honest, I haven't really thought about it."

"Take your time."

He sighed and slumped his shoulders. "We’ll see. So, what is it now that you wanted to tell me?"

When his friend remained silent, Obi-Wan tilted his head, his eyebrows narrowing. "Plo?"

"Anakin turned himself in. They're taking him to the temple right now."

Chapter Text

"Anakin turned himself in. They're taking him to the temple right now."

His heart grinded to a painful stop and for a moment Obi-Wan forgot how to breath. His ears were ringing and the buzzing was getting louder with every breath he tried to take. Suddenly, the sound turned into the hum of a lightsaber. Obi-Wan could almost feel the blade as the heat approached his face, burning and blistering his skin.

He could see Anakin aiming the blue blade at him.

I'll show you how sorry I am!

"Ob...an!"

The pain was back. Everything was on fire. Obi-Wan tried to yank his head away, but couldn't. Desperately, he clawed at whatever was holding him down. Suddenly the grip let go and he took the chance to back away from the bed, until his back collided with a wall.

"Obi-Wan?" a voice pierced through the static in his head. Somehow it sounded like Anakin. He pressed his hands over his ears, trying to block out these hallucinations.

"Obi-Wan, you must try to calm yourself. I'm not going to hurt you," Anakin spoke again. Clenching his teeth almost painfully, Obi-Wan pressed the back of his head against the wall behind him. This was not real. Anakin was not here. Something tapped gently against his mind and instantaneously he slammed the walls into place, shutting himself off from the outside world. If he couldn't protect his body, he could at least protect his mind.

The presence withdrew again, but that didn't help him. Reality and memory were blurred together and Obi-Wan could no longer differentiate between them. His mind was fighting a battle over which he had no control.

“Obi-Wan, come on!" shouted Anakin again, but this time he suddenly sounded different.

No, this was not his Padawan.

He paused.

"That's right. Just breathe."

Something in his head snapped back into place. The pain receded again, leaving a numb sensation behind. These were the Halls of Healing, and no one had attacked him either. It was all in his head.

"Plo?" he choked, fighting to get his breath to even out again.

“Yes, It's me,” his friend spoke, even though it sounded like they were talking through a wall.

Obi-Wan put a hand over his eyes, letting the resulting pain ground him again. “Sorry,” he murmured quietly.

"No, it's okay," he heard Plo moving and apparently crouching down next to him, "Is it alright if I touch you?"

Obi-Wan nodded curtly. Gently, Plo put his hand on his shoulder and for a moment he lost himself in the physical touch.

How many times Anakin had made that very gesture. After they had succeeded in battle or when they had bantered with each other. Sometimes Obi-Wan thought he could still see the smile of his former student.

But that was an illusion. A brainwave. Everything he had was broken apart. He stumbled among the rubble and did not know where to go. His demons were lurking everywhere.

Obi-Wan pulled his legs to his chest and folded his arms on his knees, resting his head on top. "What are you going to do with him now? With Anakin, I mean."

A moment of silence followed, and briefly he wondered if he had imagined Plo as well, but then his friend finally spoke. "That depends on his testimony.... And also on yours."

Plo sounded unnaturally distant, almost reserved. Obi-Wan knew that his friend could not give him the answers he sought, and that he was both overwhelmed and shocked by the whole situation. In a way he sat between the chairs. On the one hand, he had his duty as a council member, and on the other, he was closer to their lineage than probably anyone else inside the order. His lack of emotions was only a testament to his own helplessness.

“I don’t know if I am ready for that,” he breathed, his fingers clenching into the fabric of his trousers.

"I know," Plo replied, "But the incident has been all over the media.... We are expected to give an answer. We can't wait much longer, the Senate is putting pressure on us."

Of course, those rapacious politicians had their fingers in the pie again. First Ahsoka, now Anakin. It was always about the reputation of the Republic, so an incident like this could not be negotiated behind closed doors.

"When is the trial scheduled for?" asked Obi-Wan wearily. There was no way out. Either he faced the questions or the Senate would take it from there.

"The day after tomorrow," Plo paused briefly, "And the chancellor will be there."

"And half the galaxy will be watching," Obi-Wan huffed, an uneasy feeling settling in his gut. It wouldn't just be Anakin being asked questions. But they would also interrogate him. Especially him. He had been responsible for Anakin since he was a little boy. His behavior, his actions - all that was just a mirror of what Obi-Wan had tried to teach.

"They will hold me partly responsible," he noted silently.

The chancellor had always shown a special interest in Anakin. Of course, he would stand against Obi-Wan. He had the Jedi Order behind him, but he had already seen what happened when their help was needed. From Padme he could not expect to turn against her own husband. He could not and would not demand that of her. Bail would be on his side, but unfortunately his vote would not be enough to overrule the chancellor.

Effectively, he stood alone.

He would bear the brunt of Anakin's mistakes.

"I won't let you down," his friend replied.

Obi-Wan could only laugh hollowly. "Don't make promises you can't keep. We both know how this ends."

"I'm not going to let you take the fall," Plo grumbled, settling down next to him against the wall.

"I don't think I have a choice."

"There's got to be some way we can convince the majority of the Senate."

Obi-Wan scuffed in utter disbelief. "The chancellor has his way with words. He knows how to twist facts so that in the end truth and lies are almost indistinguishable."

Somewhere he had no strength to fight any further. Even if it was not fair. But when had it ever been. Obi-Wan was hardly used to it any other way. So why should it be different now?

Plo was silent, but Obi-wan could feel his inner turmoil in the Force. A sad smile settled on his face.

"It's not your fault, Plo," he rumbled shallowly, his eyes fixed on the endless blackness, “Some things are beyond our control."

“This should not be beyond our control.” A flash of anger surged through the Force, almost unnoticeable.

Obi-Wan had nothing more to say about it. Absently, he rubbed his arms as a tremor plagued his body again.

"I want to go home," he muttered after a moment.

"I don't know if that's a good idea, Obi-Wan...," Plo tried, but Obi-Wan interrupted him.

"I doubt my condition will change much by the day after tomorrow," he bit out, "So if I'm going to stand before the Senate, at least I might as well go home."

With a sigh, Plo stood up again. "You know I can't decide like that. Only Master Che can."

Obi-Wan heard a movement in front of him that he couldn't place, but he could sense that Plo was facing him.

"But maybe I can persuade her...," his friend continued to speak, "Come, give me your hands. When you're sitting on the floor, you don't look very convincing.”

Even though he didn't feel like getting up, he knew that if he really wanted to go home, he had no other choice. Still, he spared himself the humiliation of blindly groping for Plo's hands and instead silently held out his.

His friend, fortunately, did not comment on his action and simply grabbed his hands and pulled him up.

"Careful," Plo warned him and led him over to the bed, where Obi-Wan dropped down.

"Are you sure you feel well enough to go home?"

Obi-Wan screwed up his face and rubbed the back of his neck. If he was honest, he didn't feel up to anything.

He expelled a breath. "I don't know. But who knows what will happen after the trial...," his stomach tightened convulsively, "At least I don't want to have spent the rest of my time here."

Instead of calling for Master Che, Plo sat down next to him. "What Anakin did... is not your fault. I know you gave everything for the boy. More than anyone else would have. You were always there when he needed you.”

Obi-Wan's throat was dry. "And yet, it wasn't enough.... I wasn't enough."

He didn't know where it had started to go wrong. Maybe with his mission as Rako Hardeen. Maybe when he decided to pretend he didn't know about Anakin and Padme. Maybe when he had failed to rescue Qui-Gon on Naboo.

"No, Obi-Wan. The Council... no, we took advantage of your connection. Knowing full well that it would drive a wedge between the two of you. We overrode your will, multiple times. That Anakin felt he could no longer trust you was our fault."

"And what difference does that make now?" snapped Obi-Wan, breathing heavily, "Everything I held dear is gone.... It doesn't matter who's fault it is."

When Plo fell silent, Obi-Wan lifted and rubbed his temples, wincing as the movement pulled at his injuries.

"Can you just go get Master Che?" he sighed.

His friend paused for a moment before finally standing up. "...Sure," he replied unnaturally quietly.

As Obi-Wan heard the door close again, he wondered if he had been unfair. After all, Plo only wanted to help him. And he was perhaps one of the few people who understood what was going on inside him.

The sound of footsteps made him sit up again. A moment later, the characteristic hiss of the door was heard and Master Che, together with Plo, entered the room.

"I heard you want to go home," she stated bluntly with her typical healer's attitude.

Too tired to argue with her, he nodded shallowly even if it made him feel sick again. "Yes," he answered as confidently as he could.

Vokara's presence shifted from agitated to compassionate. She had expected a longer answer. Some kind of justification. Arguments so that she would let him go. But he gave her nothing.

The speech she must have had on the tip of her tongue suddenly seemed to escape her.

"Obi-Wan, I don't think this is a good idea. Your fever hasn't gone down and your wound still needs care. Let alone the fact that you can barely walk two steps."

Her words hurt, but they rang with truth. "Well, apparently that's sufficient for the upcoming trial," he shot back bitterly.

"I've argued several times against it having to be this early."

Obi-Wan could not see it but apparently she had given Plo a dark look, so he felt the need to defend himself. "We know it's too early, but a later date was not allowed."

Vokara grumbled and began pacing up and down, her shoes clacking on the tiled floor. "If it were up to me, he wouldn't be participating at all."

This time it was Plo who huffed exasperatedly. "We all know what happens if Obi-Wan doesn't show up. It would only make things worse."

Obi-Wan heard her sigh. "I don't like it."

"Does that mean you're going to let me go?" he interrupted them.

Vokara stopped in her tracks. "Definitely not, if you don't have someone to look after you."

Before Obi-Wan could say anything, Plo jumped in again. "I can do that... If that's okay with you both, of course."

In his mind's eye he could practically see Master Che's face, clenching her jaw and looking back and forth between them.

"Fine," she agreed after a while, "But only if you come back tomorrow for a check-up. And if your condition worsens, you stay here again."

"I can live with that," Obi-Wan replied lightly, now at least slightly happy to at least get out of this wretched place.

“I’ll get you your medicine,” Master Che supplied and left them alone again.

"You haven't seen my robe by any chance?" Obi-Wan asked sullenly, not really expecting an affirmative answer.

Plo chuckled. "Indeed I have," there was a rustling noise, and moments later Obi-Wan felt the soft fabric against his hands, "Here."

"Thanks," he rasped a bit surprised, grasping the fabric and quickly putting it around himself.

"Your boots are next to you as well."

Moving his foot to the side, Obi-Wan was indeed met with the old familiar leather and didn't hesitate long, putting them on. Still, neither helped him feel the same as before.

Just at that moment, Master Che entered the room again. "Here are the painkillers, you can take another one in the next few hours in case the pain comes back."

Obi-Wan nodded and took the packet held out to him, letting it disappear into the pocket of his robe. "Is there anything else I should be aware of?"

"Be careful when you walk, your sense of balance isn't the same."

He hummed resignedly in response. "I noticed that already."

"I'm not saying this to spite you, Obi-Wan. It's going to take time for you to adjust, whether you like it or not."

"I know," was all he said in return.

"Well, then you're free to go."

Obi-Wan pursed his lips and then stood up a little shakily, but he stayed on his feet this time. "Thank you, Master Che."

"Just doing my job, Obi-Wan," she replied gently, "Take care of yourself."

He smiled shallowly in response. "I don't make promises."

Plo approached him and Obi-Wan understood the unspoken request and placed his hand on his friend's shoulder. "Let's get you home."

Together, they left first the medical room and finally the Halls of Healing, Plo always one step ahead and Obi-Wan letting himself be guided. The way seemed longer to him than ever and the many looks of the other Jedi he felt at his back did not make it easier for him.

Sometimes they had to stop short as the strength drained from him, Obi-Wan sitting down on one of the long window sills at the gigantic windows of the temple where he could have watched Coruscant's skyline, had he still been able to do so.

All the way Plo was nothing else patient with him. But still Obi-Wan could not shake the feeling that all this was not right.

After half an eternity, they finally arrived at his quarters. Although this meant that he could finally hide from the eyes of the other Jedi again, Obi-Wan wasn't sure if he was ready to return here. Even outside the door, he could still feel traces of Anakin and Ahsoka's presence. Plo lingered somewhere behind him, almost like a shadow. He wasn't sure if he could handle it. Obi-Wan had always been a very private person. And now he had been deprived of even the simplest activities. Resignedly, he felt for the biopad. When he finally found it, he put his hand on the panel and waited until the door opened.

When it opened, Obi-Wan was almost overcome by the imprints in the Force. Over the past few days, he had focused so much on using the Force to gain impressions of his surroundings. Even on the way here, he had had to struggle not to gather too much information. So many people, all of them strong in the Force. It was giving him a headache.

More or less confidently, he stepped over the threshold. It was strange to be here again. Now that no one was here anymore. This apartment had always been so full of life. He had never admitted it, but he had enjoyed having Anakin and Ahsoka around. Even if, as a Jedi Master and member of the Council, he would have been entitled to a larger single apartment in a separate wing.

Obi-Wan took another step and bumped his foot against something metallic lying on the floor.

Stiffly he bent down and picked it up, holding it in front of him as if he could see it. Except, he didn't need to see to know what it was.

A droid part. One of Anakin's little experiments.

Plo shifted behind him, his insecurity leaking into the Force.

"Let me help you clear the floor a little," his friend tried to help him and began to push past him, but Obi-Wan stopped him. His fingers still clutched the droid's piece as if it held all the answers to the questions he had.

Suddenly, a surge of anger overcame him. He gritted his teeth and tightened his grip. The metal began to bend. But that didn't stop him. Something had built up inside him that wanted to get out right now. Before he could help himself, a scream escaped his lips and the metal part in his hands was crushed so that nothing remained of its original form.

Breathing heavily, he let go of the scrap metal. With a clack, it hit the ground somewhere in front of his feet and came to rest there.

He heard Plo put something aside, probably one of the many datapads, and approach him cautiously. "Are you okay?" he asked tentatively.

Obi-Wan swallowed around the lump that had settled in his throat. "I... I think I need a moment to myself."

A hand was placed gently on his upper arm. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

Obi-Wan shook his head. No, no one could help him with that.

"Would you like to rest?"

Instead of answering, he moved past Plo, the movement almost automatic. He could find the way to his room even without seeing it. When he put his hand on the door, he stopped.

"There's nothing you can do, my friend. I'll manage," he said distantly.

Obi-Wan sensed that Plo was obviously uncomfortable with this, but still his friend did not contradict him. "As you wish," he retorted, "… well, if you need me, just give me a call."

"Sure," the words slipped out of his mouth, "Thanks."

As Obi-Wan pushed open the door, Plo spoke one last time. "I'll come back in a few hours, okay?"

A sad smile settled on his face. "If it makes you feel better, go ahead."

With that, he finally entered his room and shut the door, leaving Plo behind. In the Force, he felt his friend linger for a moment, until finally his presence also slipped away.

With solitude the silence returned. Obi-Wan could close his eyes just like that, but he wasn't ready for that. He couldn't face Satine yet again. He dragged himself sluggishly over to his bed, automatically stepping around the plant that stood at the foot of it. Carelessly, he placed his lightsaber and commlink on the nightstand and sat down.

For a moment, he just kept staring ahead. Not that he knew what to do with himself. He was no longer used to the stillness. Obi-Wan didn't know why, but something made him reach for the small wooden figurine on his nightstand that he'd had ever since he was brought to the temple. It was from his parents. A kind of parting gift. A small fox. Carved by his father and beautifully painted by his mother. He remembered the bright orange-brown tones of the fur. And the small engraving on the belly of the animal that bore his name.

As he sat there, holding the little fox figurine in his hands, he wondered what would have been if the Jedi had never come for him.

Chapter Text

Exhaustion had surprisingly swept her into a deeper slumber than she had anticipated. When Ahsoka opened her eyes, the sun was already making its way through the rather dirty windows of the apartment. For a moment she remained still under the warm blanket, not yet ready to face the day yet. But then the worries of the previous days returned and she did not have it in her to remain inactive any longer. Reluctantly, she sat up and rubbed her eyes, even if that did little to shake off the still lingering weariness. Her gaze swept across the table in front of her, where it briefly locked onto the commlink Dex had given her yesterday.

Still nothing. No message left. No missed call. Ahsoka pursed her lips and slumped her shoulders in defeat. An uneasy feeling returned to her, and once again she wished that none of this had ever happened.

There was also a small note on the table; written in a rather illegible handwriting.

I've left you some food in the kitchen, in case you want breakfast. I'm downstairs in the diner. - Dex

Indeed, at that moment her stomach announced itself with an undignified growl. A little sluggishly, Ahsoka flipped the blanket back from her lap and stood up. As she now had to realize, she hadn't even noticed how Dex obviously must have walked past her several times and even prepared breakfast.

"Force, I must have been really exhausted," she muttered to herself as she shuffled toward the kitchen. On the counter was a plate of pancakes. As the smell of the sweet pastry hit her nose, she almost felt like she was back home in the temple.

You could almost call it a tradition. Whenever they had successfully completed a joint mission and actually spent the next few days in the temple, they had fresh pancakes on one of the mornings. Mostly this task fell to Master Kenobi. He was a decent cook, even if he did not have much fun with it. But the times had been all the nicer, where he had done it nevertheless for them. Anakin had also tried it several times, but had already failed at the task not to set the food on fire. And she herself? She somehow managed it, but her pancakes were just not as good as Master Kenobi's, even if neither man had openly admitted it.

But like everything nice, this memory faded, leaving a bitter aftertaste. In the time after the Hardeen mission, there had been hardly any words between them.

She and Anakin had been shipped out again shortly after, and it had been an easy excuse for not talking about the elephant in the room. After their return, a few weeks later, it had been no better. In the meantime, Master Kenobi had also been pulled back to the front, and when they returned to their apartment, they were greeted by an almost oppressive silence.

"Looks like we have the apartment to ourselves," her master said with satisfaction as he strode confidently into the living room and dropped his bag next to the couch.

Ahsoka stopped in the doorway, her fingers tightening around her own backpack and her eyes fixed on her Grandmaster's closed room door. "Don't you wonder where they sent him?" she asked quietly.

Anakin followed her gaze briefly, screwed up his face, then shrugged. "I don't see why we should care," he murmured, visibly irritated, before disappearing toward the kitchen. Ahsoka heard him opening the fridge and obviously picking out a few things. "Hey, Snips," he called after a moment, "How about we make some pancakes?"

It didn't feel right. "No, I'm not hungry," she pressed out, wanting to disappear into her own room, but Anakin stopped her, now apparently a little worried. "Are you okay?" he asked, one arm on her shoulder,” … I know our last campaign wasn’t easy…”

Ahsoka huffed and brushed his hand away, then took a step back. "Really? How can you be so ignorant?" she bit out before she could think about it further.

Her master's expression darkened. "Ahsoka, don't start that again...." he growled.

She ignored his passive threat. "Don't you see?" she breathed as tears gathered in her eyes, "This," she pointed around her with her arm, "This isn't going to work unless you two get along. I don't want to have to choose between the two of you."

Everything seemed to bounce off her master's stoic facade. "Then you should reconsider your priorities, my Padawan," he merely sneered before turning and disappearing into his own room.

Ahsoka gazed after him for a moment before retreating to her room, locking the door and dropping onto the bed. When the tears fell, she could no longer hold them back.

For the next two days she hardly left her room, avoided her master. She just wanted to be alone. It was late in the evening of the second day when she heard the door to the apartment open and then quietly close again. Master Obi-Wan was back.

Ahsoka sat up on her bed, but didn't dare leave her room. Somehow, she knew what was coming. A few moments later, she heard her master enter the living room as well. She sensed that he was angry.

"Hello, Anakin," his former master greeted him. He sounded exhausted.

Without responding, Anakin cut to the chase. "We need to talk," he stated coolly.

A sigh was heard. "Very well. Can we at least sit down for this? I'm not feeling very..."

"Don't worry, it won't take long," Anakin interrupted him harshly.

She heard Obi-Wan put his bag down somewhere on the floor. "What do you want to tell me?" he asked wearily, as if he had already given up fighting Anakin.

"It can't go on like this," her master said, and a cold shiver ran down Ahsoka's spine.

"Anakin, I don't know how many times I have to say I'm sorry..."

"I don't want your apology," a moment of silence followed, "...I want you to leave."

"...What?" The question came so quietly that Ahsoka barely heard it. Her heart began to race and she didn't know how to calm down. This couldn't be happening. She knew she should get in there, try to mediate. But she felt trapped. She put her hands over her mouth and stifled a whimper that crept up her throat.

"Anakin, you can't be serious..." her grandmaster tried.

"Do I look like I'm joking?" bit back Anakin, "It's obvious you and I aren't going to work as a team anymore, and I'm not going to let Ahsoka's training suffer any further. So either you go... or we are."

No, she didn't want it to end that way. Holding her breath, she hoped that Master Kenobi would talk back, any way he could. Instead, there was the shift in the Force, as his presence suddenly all but disappeared behind impermeable shields, taking the warmth away.

"If that is your wish, I will make arrangements," Obi-Wan replied resignedly, "I... I do not want to stand in your way."

Then she heard the heavy footsteps as Anakin, still seething, left the apartment, wherever, and silence returned. For a moment Obi-Wan seemed to remain rooted to the spot in the living room, until he too disappeared into his room with dragging steps and let the door fall into the lock.

She didn't know what to do and stared ahead, still unbelieving about what she had just witnessed. Part of her wanted to rush out and reconcile her two masters, whatever it took, but the larger part, and especially the stronger one, made her want to just curl up on her bed and forget everything.

That's exactly how she found herself a few hours later, on a damp pillow as time had not yet managed to dry her tears. Sniffling, she sat up and stretched her senses. Her master had not yet returned and she doubted he would be back before morning. But Master Kenobi seemed to be still there, even if his presence was very dim.

Uncertainly Ahsoka went to the door and stepped into the living area, which still looked the same as when she had returned. Only that it somehow no longer felt so lively.

She had a lump in her throat as she moved over to her grandmaster's room. Just as she was about to knock, she heard a feminine voice. Ahsoka paused.

"You don't look good," spoke the voice softly, which Ahsoka now recognized as Duchess Satine, "What happened?"

A broken laugh escaped the Jedi Master's throat. "Where do you want me to start?"

"Did something happen between you and Anakin again?"

A beat of silence. "He wants me to leave."

"What?" hissed the duchess, "He can't just kick you out. He doesn't have the right."

"I know," Obi-Wan countered, "But maybe....  maybe he's right, and it would be better if I moved out... I'm just so tired of having to fight at home as well... I can't do it anymore." His voice broke a little at his last words.

“Oh, Obi.”

Ahsoka could listen no further and stepped back from the door. She knew what it would come down to. Obi-Wan would leave. Yet, at this moment she didn't really want to believe it yet.

But all that had changed when a few days later she found the papers from the quartermaster confirming that the request for a new apartment had been approved.

With her hands a little shaky, Ashoka took the plate of pancakes as the memory passed over her and sat down at the kitchen table. The whole thing had not been long ago. Master Kenobi had actually packed up some of his meager possessions already when he had a little time to spare on Coruscant. Ahsoka's heart ached as she had watched him do it now and then, but hadn't brought herself to say anything.

And then everything had happened so quickly. Master Kenobi had received a private message after which he had called an emergency council meeting. Now she knew that it must have been the call for help of the Duchess of Mandalore. And since the council evidently did not want to provide official help, Obi-Wan had begged Anakin for the Twilight and had managed for at least a few seconds to break through her master's torrent of anger.

Absently, Ahsoka took the first bite. The pancakes were fantastic, just like she remembered. Even though she lost a bit of hunger, she ate the pancakes completely. Dex's effort should not have been in vain. Afterwards, she put the now empty plate into the sink. A glance at the chrono told her that it was noon in about an hour. For a brief moment, she considered going down to Dex's diner, but probably that was too dangerous. She was still a wanted woman.

Instead, she decided to check the HoloNews. Ahsoka turned on the device and the familiar voice of the reporter came through to her.

"...there appears to be new evidence in the case of the Jedi Temple bombing. We don't have much information yet, but it appears that Ahsoka Tano, who has been on the run ever since, may not be the perpetrator. Such a miscarriage of justice would be a scandal if confirmed. We will keep you posted on any developments."

Ahsoka stared at the screen without blinking. They had reopened her case after all. Whoever was responsible for this decision, she couldn't be more grateful to that person. If she was proven innocent, did that mean she could return to the temple? ...but did she want to?

Thousands of questions circled in her head and she was only pulled out of her thoughts when the reporter brought up another topic that made her sit up and take notice.

"...and there is more news from the Jedi Temple. After the confrontation between Generals Kenobi and Skywalker, Skywalker has apparently turned himself in and been taken to the Temple. A public trial is scheduled for the day after tomorrow with both generals, as well as the Chancellor himself, in attendance."

The brief joy she had felt that she might be declared innocent after all instantly gave way to an uneasy feeling. Not that she was worried about Anakin. No, no one could doubt that he was guilty. Ahsoka worried for her grandmaster. The Chancellor's presence at such a trial never boded well, especially when Anakin was involved, who was known to have a good relationship with the man.

With a wave of her hand, she turned off the device and hastily grabbed the commlink from the table. "I need to talk to Dex," she said to herself and left the apartment to climb down the stairs to the diner.

She found him, fortunately, right in the kitchen, by the stove.

"Dex," she addressed him when he didn't notice her at first because of the noise.

The Besalisk jerked his head around before quickly turning back to the stove to prevent the food from burning. "I see you found some sleep?"

Ahsoka smiled shallowly. "Yes, thank you. Also for the pancakes."

Dex glanced out through a small hatch in the wall into the main room. It was well filled, as usual. "No need to thank me, kid. But you should be careful, I've seen patrols on the street."

Ahsoka sat down on the stool she had been sitting on yesterday and fidgeted with her fingers. "Have you seen the news?"

Dex took a piece of meat from the grill to assemble into a burger, which he then slid through the hatch forward to Hermoine. Then he looked at her. "Yeah... And I'm worried, too."

"I have to get to the temple," the words literally fell out of her mouth, "I have to see Master Obi-Wan."

Surprised, Dex dropped the barbecue tongs in his hand onto the counter before quickly picking them back up. "Excuse me?" he asked in irritation, as if he hadn't heard her correctly.

"You heard me right," Ahsoka confirmed again, a little nervously, "I have a really bad feeling about this upcoming trial, Dex."

Dex continued working, but glanced at her intently. "I don't know how you imagine that, Ahsoka. It's not like you can just walk in through the front door."

Ahsoka bit her lips. "I was hoping maybe you could help me with that."

The Besalisk stopped what he was doing and looked at her in disbelief before something shifted on his face. "Why do I keep getting involved in such madness..." he muttered to himself, rubbing a hand over his face. Then he focused his eyes back on her. "Okay, kid. Let's say I'm going to help you. What's your plan?"

The padawan grinned broadly. "You got a speeder?"

A few hours later

"I'm still not sure I like this plan," Dex growled tensely, two hands clutching the steering wheel as he flew them toward the Jedi Temple under cover of darkness. Ahsoka gave him a quick glance before tacking him back to the path ahead. They had almost reached the temple.

"I can't let this sit on me," she muttered, "I have to see him, no matter what it takes. There's something dark lurking here."

The Besalisk huffed a laugh. "Do you Jedi always speak in riddles, or is that a peculiarity of your lineage?"

Ahsoka snorted and shrugged. "I think you'll have to answer that question for yourself."

Slowly they approached the temple and Dex turned off the speeder lights. Next to him, Ahsoka sat up, watching her surroundings closely.

"We need to get to the other side of the temple, I'll let you know when I see our apartment."

Dex grumbled quietly in confirmation and set the vehicle in motion. "So did I get that right? You're going to jump on the balcony and then break in?"

Ahsoka nodded in concentration. "In theory, yes. In practice... Let's see....There!"

She pointed to a balcony on the upper floors. The apartment beyond was dark.

"Are you sure he's there?" asked Dex as he flew closer, "You said yourself that he was about to move out.... maybe... you know."

Of course, she couldn't be sure. But still, she had to try. "If he's not here, I'll just go look for him."

When they were finally in position, Ahsoka climbed out onto the hood of the speeder and set to jump, but Dex stopped her once more.

"Ahsoka," he called over the wind, and Ahsoka looked at him through the windshield, "Watch your back."

A shallow smile came across her face. "I will," she replied gratefully, "Thanks for everything, Dex."

Without looking back again, she jumped. Gracefully, she landed on the balcony and could now peer into the apartment. Everything looked the same as before. At least almost. A few datapads had been put aside on a table and a wrecked droid part lay on the floor. Someone had been here.

She stepped in front of the glass door and turned around once more. Dex had already disappeared. There was no turning back. Taking a deep breath, Ahsoka used the Force to manipulate the door lock and was satisfied when the door finally popped open. On quiet soles she crept into the apartment.

Before she could take a good look around, the door next to her suddenly opened. The apartment was still dark, only the light of passing speeder lit the room again and again for a few seconds. But it was enough to make her breath catch in her throat. Leaning in the doorway was Obi-Wan, though it took her a moment to process that it was really him. The flashing light from outside made his face light up briefly, or more precisely the blistering wound that stretched across his eyes.

Bloodshot, milky, but still blue, eyes were desperately searching for her, even though Ahsoka could already see that they would never be able to catch even the slightest glimpse of light again.

"Ahsoka, is that you?"

Chapter Text

“Ahsoka, is that you?”

His voice broke the silence, but Ahsoka still found herself trapped in a state of shock. She didn't know what she had expected. Just not this. It was surreal, to see her grandmaster like this. He seemed like a shadow of his former self.

In front of her Obi-Wan tensed up, confusion stretching across his features. It hurt, this uncertainty. He still didn't know for sure that it was her. Obi-Wan couldn't see, and she still had to lower her shields to let him in.

Swallowing hard, Ahsoka finally overcame the rigidity. "Yes... it's me," she breathed, her voice rough as unshed tears gathered in her eyes.

“You came back…,” he whispered, his voice laced with disbelief. Some of the tension seemed to leave his body again. Obi-Wan carefully pushed himself away from the doorframe, as if he was having trouble standing on his own, and took a tiny step forward, one hand slightly outstretched. "... Where are you?"

Her heart was hammering in her chest. Why was it suddenly so hard to move? Her grandmaster was standing right in front of her, searching for her, and yet she couldn't bring herself to move toward him.

For a moment, the shaky hand remained extended in her direction before Obi-Wan dropped it again, defeated. The step he had taken before, he now stepped back again and his face disappeared in the shadows of his room. Ahsoka could see him turn his face away, even though nothing more than his silhouette was visible. "I'm sorry...," he rasped, ".... I didn't mean to overwhelm you."

He thinks I'm afraid of him, she realized with a pang.  Ahsoka knew that if she let him go now, he would continue to retreat. She would confirm to him that he had indeed scared her.

And with that, she was suddenly free. Determined, she closed the distance between them and caught him in a tight embrace. Obi-Wan was surprised by the sudden touch and subconsciously wanted to take a step back, but Ahsoka wouldn't let him.  With her head against his chest, she heard his heartbeat quicken and how he struggled not to panic. The need to defend himself threatened to get the better of him. Did he think she would hurt him?

Carefully, she lowered her shields in an attempt to reassure him. She gently tapped against his mind. Although he didn't let her in yet, she could already feel his inner turmoil. As his barrier slowly sank, Ahsoka had to pull herself together not to flinch. There was so much fear and pain. His light, which had otherwise shone so brightly, was little more than a flickering flame fighting against the darkness. He wandered around without orientation, like an animal lost in the storm.

How much of this was Anakin's doing? And how much had manifested in his mind over the last few years?

When he finally returned the embrace, she noticed that it wasn't just his hands that were shaking, but his whole body. Ahsoka twisted her head slightly to see his face and wrung one of her hands free to hold it shallowly over his forehead. The heat was visibly palpable.

"You're sick," she stated solemnly.

"I know," he replied awfully quiet.

His verbosity was so uncharacteristic for him. Normally he would deny that he was sick or draw attention to another topic. But he did not. Ahsoka hardly recognized him. Obi-Wan had always been surrounded by an air of serenity and solemnness, but he never lacked warmth. He cared and loved so much, that it ached to see him so shattered beyond repair.

"Oh Master...," she continued to hold onto him, even though she wasn't sure who was holding who up, "...I'm so sorry."

His hand moved and then came to rest on her neck. "It's not your fault, Ahsoka."

The Padawan swallowed hard and took a step back, pulling away from the embrace. "... Can I see it?"

It was hard to tell in the dark, but she noticed how he screwed up his face a little. "I think you already have," he muttered evasively.

“Please.” She needed to see what Anakin had done, even if that did not help her with understanding why he did it.

For a moment he said nothing, and Ahsoka thought he was going to decline. It made her sad that he seemed to be ashamed. From the brief glimpse she had caught, she knew his face looked terrible. She could imagine the reactions of the people; especially the children who didn't know any better.

"Go ahead," he finally said, even though his voice didn't sound very confident. Ahsoka stepped over and flicked on the light, which almost blinded her for a moment. Obi-Wan, of course, didn't notice any difference.

She eyed him closely, watching both of his eyes stare into the nothingness. The dark blue of his iris had given way to a milky light blue. The glow in his eyes had disappeared. Probably forever.

Ahsoka approached him again. As she stood before him, he lowered his head slightly, as if looking at her, even though he was unable to. Perhaps a kind of reflex, a reaction of his body that still had not understood that something was missing.

"Does it still hurt?" she asked hesitantly, as she looked at the angry wound cutting across his face.

Obi-Wan bit the inside of his cheeks and squeezed his eyes shut. "It does. Sometimes..." he searched for words, "...sometimes I still feel the blade hit my face... It burns- And it just won't stop."

That he admitted he was in pain hit her like a brick. For all the years she had known him, he had always hidden it from her. Even if his body bore the obvious marks. She remembered how she had sometimes sat at his bedside for days, waiting for him to wake up after a mission that had once again almost cost them their lives. But then when he had woken up, he had always asked about her and Anakin first. He was always concerned about the welfare of others, never about his own. It left a bitter taste that this very quality had been his undoing.

Because he had tried to help his friend, not even wasting a second on thinking that maybe it would be better to let him go.

Ahsoka knew that Obi-Wan could be a true stubborn man, but he had always had the best interests at heart.

Now it was as if the crumbling facade he had maintained had collapsed. Ahsoka wondered if anyone had ever looked behind the mask of her grandmaster. Maybe Satine had seen what was going on inside him. Maybe she was the only person he had blindly trusted besides Anakin. But there Obi-Wan had obviously been wrong.

Ahsoka's throat was dry. "What Anakin did...that was wrong. He should never have attacked you."

Obi-Wan scowled in response. "It doesn't matter anymore," she watched his hands clench and unclench, "What's done is done."

“It does matter, master,” she argued back, but without raising her voice. They didn’t need that now. "Do you think it's easy to watch the two people I love destroy each other so much?" Her voice cracked. "It scares the hell out of me.... I don't want to lose you two."

"And what do you expect me to do?" he retorted softly, sending a shiver down her spine, "I have nothing left to give, Ahsoka."

I lost everything I held dear.

Ahsoka couldn't help him, and neither could he help her. Somewhere she had the feeling that she was to blame for everything. If she had never agreed to talk to Turmond, maybe none of this would have happened.

Obi-Wan seemed to sense her thoughts. "What happened between me and Anakin... it was just a matter of time. I was selfish… thinking that I could raise Anakin directly after losing my own master. I should have…,” he faltered and turned his head away, “I should have asked for help.”

In her spare time, Ahsoka had tried to find out more about her Grandmaster's past. Frustration had quickly set in after she realized that most of his mission was under wraps, especially in his younger years. Even though she hadn't understood why until now. In the beginning, she thought it was because he was a council member. But all the other members' missions were viewable, so she quickly ruled out that reason. Something had happened in her Grandmaster's past that the Jedi were trying to hide.

What she did find, however, was the report shortly after Obi-Wan had accepted Anakin as his Padawan. She didn't remember which Jedi had written it. It was also not important. What was important was that it was made abundantly clear that Anakin's training was under the closest scrutiny.

"They would have taken him away from you, wouldn't they?" asked Ahsoka, even as the words formed a lump in her throat.

“Probably.”

His shields were up again and it was almost impossible to read his face. The only thing that was carved into his features was sadness. “Do you regret it? Taking Anakin in?”

“No,” his voice trembled, “The only thing I regret is not giving him more options.”

“What do you mean?”

The Jedi Master expelled a heavy breath and then shuffled over to his bed, settling down on it. He ran a shaky hand through his beard.

"What I mean is... that I never gave Anakin the choice to get another master."

Ahsoka was baffled by his words.  Almost automatically, she moved over to him and sat down next to him on the bed. "Do you think Anakin would have wanted someone else?"

Obi-Wan pursed his lips and bowed his head. "I wouldn't have blamed him.... I wouldn't have chosen me either."

Doesn't he know how important he is to us?

"I would have chosen you," she whispered, "And I think Anakin did, too, even if he rarely showed you."

Obi-Wan said nothing in reply, but just stared at the floor between his feet. As he leaned forward, a chain had slipped from his tunic and now swung shallowly at his neck. Ahsoka had noticed the leather band on his neck before, but had never thought anything of it. The pendant that had now come to light, however, told a story that now made her heart tighten again painfully. The gray-black shimmering metal she knew only from history books. Beskar.  One of the most valuable metals of all, it even withstood a lightsaber. Mandalorian steel.

There was only one person from whom he could have gotten it. Satine.

The shape of the pendant almost resembled an incisor of a predator, even though it was not polished smooth and the structure of the unprocessed metal was still visible.

"I'm sorry about Satine."

Still her grandmaster remained silent, but it seemed as if the furrows on his forehead were deepening. His hand closed around the pendant before he finally slipped the chain from his neck. The leather band hung between his fingers. A few tears escaped his eyes and quietly dropped to the floor. Ahsoka decided not to comment on it.

For a moment, he stroked his fingers over the metal until he suddenly reached out and held the necklace out to her. "Take it,” he forced out, almost as if he was giving away his very existence.

Confusion spread through her as she looked at it. "What, why?" she asked, shaking her head.

He clenched his jaw. "…They're going to take it from me. And I don't want it to fall into the wrong hands."

At first, she didn't understand who he meant by they. But then it dawned on her. The trial. He was firmly convinced that he would be convicted.

A little uncertainly she took the piece of jewelry from his hand. It was still warm when she closed her fingers around the pendant. "I'll take care of it," she promised, her gaze fixed on him, "And I'll give it back to you."

He nodded shallowly, not turning to her. "Thank you."

She put the necklace around her own neck. It felt foreign. But still it carried some of her grandmaster's signature. “What will happen now?"

Obi-Wan sat up a little. "Plo told me that evidence has been found that you are not to blame for the death of Letta Turmond... that means you are free to return.... if you want to. I think the council will make an official announcement tomorrow morning."

Somehow, she did not even want to know who was responsible. Only one thing mattered for her. "And what about you?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. I'll find out the day after tomorrow."

It was not fair. "They can't just charge you for Anakin's mistakes.”

"Yes, they can," Obi-Wan replied defeated, taking a deep breath, "I think you know Anakin didn't grow up in the Temple, but joined the Order when he was nine.... His training was initially forbidden because the Council had already then sensed this unbridled anger inside of him.... Well, I objected and the council finally agreed, but only on one condition."

A feeling of dread settled in her stomach. She could guess what the condition was. "You agreed to take full responsibility for Anakin's actions in order to allow him to be trained."

Obi-Wan hummed. "Yes...the responsibility is mine, even after he was knighted."

"But Anakin is an adult and makes his own decisions." It was hard to comprehend.

"He has become the person he is now because of my training...and obviously I have failed him." His shoulders slumped.

"No, you did not," Ahsoka denied it, "Anakin would never have gotten this far without you. You gave him a family. You taught him what was right and what was wrong.... And I know he had understood it because he taught it to me in return."

Her grandmaster laughed sadly. "If I didn't think Anakin was capable of training a Padawan, we would never have assigned you to him," his face fell, "We all thought Anakin could control his emotions.... After we brought his mother to Stewjon, it only seemed like he finally trusted me.... And he was happier."

Obi-Wan plucked at his fingers. "Then the war began... and with it the anger returned - Anakin became a stranger to me. Everything I did was wrong. He stayed out of my way. Disappeared sometimes for days."

He turned his head shallowly in her direction. "Through you, we tried to show him that we trusted him.  And I still don't regret it."

There was that unspeakable pain in his voice again. "You two have become a wonderful team. And Anakin really would do anything for you."

He chose me over you. And hurt you, because he believed that you had not been there for us. Ahsoka felt sick and tears welled up in her eyes again. But this time she couldn't hold them in. It was as if a dam had been broken.

The Padawan sobbed and didn't know what to do with herself. Maybe she should have stayed away. Then she would have spared Master Obi-Wan the pain of her presence.

Somewhat hesitantly, a hand came to her shoulder blade and Ahsoka watched with blurred vision as Obi-Wan held out his arm. For a moment she sat rooted to the spot until she moved over to him and rested her head against his shoulder. Her tears soon soaked his shirt but that didn't seem to bother him as he held her close.

"I'm scared," she hiccupped.

His grip on her tightened. "Me too."

Chapter Text

As night fell, the temple was even quieter than it had become anyway. As the war progressed, the numbers of Jedi became fewer and fewer. Parents decided against giving their children to the Order, fearing they would end up as generals on the front lines. He could not blame them.

Plo let his eyes wander over the empty corridors. Not for the first time, he wondered if they had strayed from the right path. The Senate should have no influence over them. They should not be its puppets. And instead, they were betraying their own people.

His stomach cramped painfully at the thought, and the Jedi forced himself to continue on his path. He had already checked on Obi-Wan a few hours ago, but it just didn't feel right to leave his friend alone when he was so obviously struggling. Obi-Wan had insisted that he was fine on his own, but Plo had seen through the lie. The news had frightened the other jedi. More than he would let on. Obi-Wan Kenobi was terrified and Plo could not deny that he did not feel the same. Deep down, he knew the man would leave as soon as he got the chance. It was a selfish thought, but Plo dreaded the day he would most likely see his friend for the last time. Even though it was probably for the best.

A bitter thought crossed his mind. For Obi-Wan to decide which path to take, he had to survive long enough in the first place. Whatever the chancellor was up to, it did not bode well.

He reached the apartment door and was about to knock when he noticed that there were two presences inside. He immediately identified one of them as Obi-Wan, even though it no longer carried its former strength around it. But the second made him pause. Perplexed, he lowered his hand again and stared at the closed door.

"...Ahsoka?" he muttered to himself, his breath catching in his throat. The girl had found her way back. His heart leapt and he would have liked nothing more than to rush into the apartment and embrace the Padawan. He had long considered taking Ahsoka as his student. They had a connection since he brought her to the temple as an infant. For years he had watched her progress and when the day came that she was finally ready, he had been told that she had already been assigned. His heart had broken that day, but he had seen that Ahsoka could not have been better matched with Anakin and Obi-Wan as her masters.

Plo took a step back from the door and leaned against the wall, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. He would not disturb Obi-Wan and Ahsoka in this sacred moment. Perhaps it was the last occasion where the two would see each other for a long time. Again it stung inside him as he remembered how this lineage was torn apart. He had seen it in Obi-Wan's face, when the smile and the glow in his eyes had vanished little by little. He had seen it in Ahsoka as she grew quieter and quieter. And he had seen it in Anakin, how the rage that was simmering inside him broke out again and again.

They had all failed them. Personally, he had failed as a friend. He should have been more supportive of Obi-Wan when the Council forced him to take full responsibility for Anakin. That had not been right. And instead he had looked away.

Now it was too late. Things had started rolling and Plo was aware that no one could stop the chancellor. The only thing he could do now was to find out why Anakin had done what he had done.

Plo pushed himself off the wall, feeling in the Force for a moment for Obi-Wan's and Ahsoka's presence. They were intertwined, giving each other strength despite the fear and sadness that surrounded them.

Heavy-hearted Plo turned away. There was no place for him here.

His legs carried him again through the too silent corridors as he moved toward the turbolifts. They held Anakin in the detention cells deep inside the temple. A deserted place, meant to shield whoever was down there from the outside world.

Plo never thought these cells would ever be used again. It was a place abandoned by the Force, even though it was directly under the temple. Once, the cells had been built to hold Sith or renegade Jedi who posed a threat.

Now they held Anakin. Because he had attacked the person who probably trusted him the most and would give up everything for him. The man he should consider his brother.

A feeling of coldness settled in his bones as the Jedi Master finally entered the turbolift and it moved down into the depths. He did not know how he should face Anakin. There was this unspeakable furor burning in his veins over the fact that the boy still hadn't understood that Obi-Wan had only ever wanted the best for him. No matter what it had cost.

But now was not the time for anger. Plo wanted to understand what had driven Skywalker to this act.

The elevator came to a stop with a jerk. Determined, Plo stepped out and scanned the hallway in front of him, which looked more like a prison. The walls were reinforced with durasteel and the individual cells were sealed with ray shields. Two temple guards were positioned in front of one of the cells.

They acknowledged his presence with a brief nod in his direction, but made no effort to stop him. As a council member, he had the right to be here. Plo stopped short in front of the ray shield and took a deep breath before instructing one of the guards to open the cell. With a hiss, the red wall was removed and the Jedi Master could enter.

Like the corridors before, the cell was more than bare. In the middle of the room stood a small table with two chairs, all mounted on the floor. On the far wall was a door that led to a small refresher unit. And then there was the narrow bunk that was set into the wall. From there, Anakin looked at him with wide eyes. A mix of different emotions surged toward him, but one thing was clear. Skywalker had not expected him to show up here.

A little awkwardly, the Jedi Knight stood up and tipped his head down. "Master Koon, I... I wasn't expecting a visitor."

"I wonder what that's about," Plo bit back more sharply than he had first planned. Anakin winced visibly, fiddling nervously with the force-dampening cuff on his wrist. The young man, usually brimming with self-confidence and arrogance, was hardly recognizable.

Plo sighed and motioned at the table. "Come, sit down, Anakin."

Anakin hesitated and bit his lips, but finally took a seat on one of the chairs. Plo followed shortly after and took the seat opposite him, his eyes never leaving the young Jedi. Skywalker had lowered his gaze, his fingers folded on the table in front of him, though that did not hide the trembling.

"What are you doing here?" he murmured after a moment.

Plo tilted his head, but still it was impossible for him to catch the boy's gaze. "I want to understand you, Anakin."

The fingers on the table suddenly stilled. "... How is he?" asked Anakin quietly.

"How would you feel in his position?", Plo decided to ask back.

No response. Skywalker continued to stare at the tabletop in front of him.

Plo continued to probe. "Your hit blinded him. Did you know that?"

The silence stretched for another moment - until Anakin broke. He sobbed and put his head in his hands as his shoulders slumped.

"I don't know what drove me..." he sniffled, finally raising his head so Plo could look into the tear-filled blue eyes, "...If I could, I would take back everything I have ever said or done.... please, you must believe me…”

Not that this would change anything about the current situation.

"Why were you so angry with Obi-Wan?" The question sounded simple as he let the words slip from his mouth, but he knew it was anything but.

Anakin shrugged his shoulders, tears still slowly dripping down his cheeks. "I don't know that either. Maybe because I felt betrayed...," his voice became quiet, "... or maybe because I always felt like a burden to him."

Plo frowned. "What do you mean?"

The young Jedi pursed his lips. "I know he took me in because he promised Master Qui-Gon... I just could never understand why he didn't pass me on to another master all these years. Especially in the early years, I could see how it was eating him up inside to see me. The boy who had taken away his own master." Anakin plucked at his fingers. "It's stupid, but somewhere it made me angry. I pushed him away, again and again."

Plo studied his counterpart closely. "You wanted to know how far he would go for you."

Anakin swallowed heavily and croaked: "If you want to call it like that."

The guilt was written all over the other man's face, but Plo was not here to console him. "At some point, you must have realized that he wasn't going to give you up."

The boy nodded stiffly.

Plo decided not to say anything about the council's influence over his training for the time being. "So what's changed? I know you two have been getting along worse and worse over the past two years."

“The war,” came the quiet answer, “After I was knighted and I had men under my own command, I felt… I felt like I could do so much more than they let me.”

Once again, the jedi master became aware of how young Anakin still was.

“You thought that Obi-Wan was holding you back?”

Another nod. “The chancellor… he always told me about the great things I could achieve. If Obi-Wan would not be standing in my way all the time.”

Plo could not do much to hide his surprise. “And you believed him.”

“I guess.”

“And when Obi-Wan took on his mission as Hardeen you felt like he always had lied to you? That he did not care about you?”

Anakin’s gaze hardened and for a second Plo could sense a brush of anger. “I considered him my brother. How would you feel if your own family betrays you…? That maybe after all… you weren’t a family.”

Plo’s heart ached at the boy's words.

His throat was dry as he spoke next, the words heavy as he finally managed to get them out. “Obi-Wan did not want to accept the mission.”

Confusion spread over Skywalker's face. “What are you talking about?”

“Your master refused to go on this mission,” Plo clarified again, “But the chancellor forced our hand. We had the choice between sending Obi-Wan onto this mission or facing repercussions for the Jedi order.”

Confusion turned to shock as the words sank in. "You say he was forced," he gaped.

This time it was up to Plo to just nod silently.

Anakin rubbed his hand over his face, his gaze suddenly blank, but his eyes were shining with unshed tears again. "I never let him explain himself… and I asked him to leave.”

He knew that. Plo remembered exactly the day he found out by chance. He had trained with Obi-Wan.

His feet slid across the training hall mat as Plo ran his katas again and again. When he had already gone through the steps for the fifth time, he glanced at the chrono again, only to find that his friend was already half an hour late.

This was unnatural for Obi-Wan.  Even though he had just returned from a mission in the Outer Rim yesterday, he was never actually late. As if on cue, the door of the salles opened. Obi-Wan strode toward him and Plo couldn't help but notice that the man was pale and looked exhausted. Moreover, some of his hairs seemed to be out of place. Something was wrong - more than usual.

"Sorry I'm late," Obi-Wan skipped the greeting and strode past Plo to one of the benches against the wall, starting to slip off his shoes and outer tunic.

Plo hummed, studying his friend insistently. "It's all right... You don't look so good. Are you okay?"

His friend halted his movements for a moment,  his back still turned to him. "No need to worry," Obi-Wan finally said, grabbing his lightsaber and clipping it back to his belt, "Just didn't get much sleep, that's all."

At last he turned and took his position facing Plo on the mat. He flashed him a small smile, but it didn't reach his eyes.

Methodically Obi-Wan began to warm up but Plo couldn't shake the feeling that this wasn't a good idea. "Listen, we can train another time when you're a little more rested."

In response, Obi-Wan sighed and straightened up. "I'm fine, Plo. Now come, let's get started."

Still unconvinced, he finally gave in and activated the blade of his sword, adjusting the strength. Opposite him, Obi-Wan did the same, only to assume his typical Soresu position. One hand outstretched straight, the sword arm above his head. The fingers pointing to him trembled a little.

When Plo was ready, he took a step back and assumed his own position.

With a small nod from both parties, the fight began.

He went directly on the offensive, and for a moment it seemed as if Obi-Wan would counter his attacks with ease, as always. But then something changed. Something seemed to occupy the thoughts of his friend, because in the next moment he made a mistake. His right foot slipped too far back and he lost his balance when Plo's blade met his. Obi-Wan's blade twisted too far to the side and Plo's own blade now had a clear path - and hit the back of his friend's hand with a sizzle.

With a yelp, Obi-Wan dropped his lightsaber and experimentally flexed his now injured hand with a pained face.

Plo cursed softly, worried, and deactivated his saber. "Force, I'm sorry. Is it bad?"

Obi-Wan shook his head. "Nothing a little bacta won't fix."

“Maybe you should sit down for a moment,” he suggested and motioned at the benches, “I'll get the medkit.”

It was even more worrisome when Obi-Wan only grunted silently in response and began to trudge over to the wall.

Plo made his way to the adjacent refresher to get the medical supplies from there. Fortunately, he found the kit relatively quickly and was able to return to the training halls. Obi-Wan had indeed settled down on the bench in the meantime and now sat bent over, his head supported in his uninjured hand. The other hand hung limply over his knee. He seemed to notice Plo only at the last moment and flinched a little as the Kel'Dor settled down beside him.

"Show me your hand," Plo said gently, holding out his own.

Obi-Wan rubbed his eyes and sat up a little. "I can do that myself," he grunted, "Just give me the bacta."

Their eyes met, and once again the exhaustion in his friend's eyes was unmistakable. But there was more. Sadness and pain.

"Obi-Wan, let me do this."

The other Jedi Master's gaze hardened for a moment, but finally, wordlessly, he held out his hand.

"Thank you," Plo murmured, and began to inspect the wound.  It was only a minor burn, thankfully. Nevertheless, he knew from experience that they could hurt just as much. Carefully he applied the bacta ointment and then closed the area with a small bandage.

When he was finished, Obi-Wan withdrew his hand directly, his gaze averted.

Plo busied himself with packing the medical supplies away. "Now perhaps you'd like to tell me what's wrong?"

"I don't know if there's much to tell," came the evading answer.

He wouldn't give in that easily. "Did anything happen on your last mission?"

Obi-Wan had already given his report to the council yesterday, but perhaps he had left something out.

The redhead shook his head. "The mission went fine...," he glanced at the chrono, "I think I need to get going too, I have something to do."

Obi-Wan started to get up, but Plo stopped him with a hand on his upper arm.

"Obi-Wan, you can't be serious now."

His hand was shaken off rudely. "I told you not to worry," his friend hissed, visibly irritated, and stood up.

Plo did the same, now a little angry. "No worries? Have you looked at yourself in the mirror? You look like you haven't slept a minute in the last few days. Now tell me what's wrong."

Obi-Wan clenched his teeth, balling his hands into fists. "It's nothing."

Lie. Plo didn't even need to use the Force for that. "Did something happen between you and Anakin?"

"No," Obi-Wan bit out tight-lipped.

Another lie. “You know I am your friend, not your enemy?”

The other man shifted uncomfortably on his feet and crossed his arms over his chest. “Of course.”

“Then why are you lying to me?”

Obi-Wan averted his eyes again. "Maybe because I just don't want to talk about it," he grumbled, defeated.

"I can see it's obviously bothering you," Plo tried, "Let me help you."

His friend worked his jaw and then bit his cheeks, thinking. "Anakin wants me to leave," it suddenly tumbled out of him. His shoulders sagged visibly.

Plo was shocked by this revelation. "What, why?"

His friend shrugged his shoulders. "He said I would interfere with Ahsoka's training as long as I was there...," his voice cracked, "that I'd better go, since we wouldn't be working together anymore." Pain seeped through Obi-Wan’s normally well-maintained shields.

He could hardly believe what he was hearing. His heart ached. "You can't take that lying down."

"And what do you think I should do?"

Plo shook his head in despair. "Can't you try to talk to him?"

"Anakin won't listen to me."

"But..." began Plo, but was interrupted.

"I can't take it anymore, okay?" snapped Obi-Wan suddenly, his eyes filled with tears, breathing heavily, "I'm done."

He took a step back and ran a shaky hand through his hair. "I still have to see the quartermaster. Excuse me."

Before Plo could stop him, Obi-Wan turned and walked briskly out of the training halls, ignoring how he was called after.

"You hurt Obi-Wan more with that than he probably showed."

Anakin sobbed. "I know. I see that was wrong. I'm so sorry."

He brushed tears from his face and faced Plo. "Do you think... do you think maybe I can talk to him?"

At that, he had to shake his head. "I doubt he would like that, Anakin."

The boy lowered his head again. "I understand that. Can you at least tell him I'm sorry?"

"I'll see what I can do about that." He would not traumatize Obi-Wan further. The man was already struggling enough.

Skywalker tipped his head. "Thank you."

"Just so you know, Ahsoka has returned to the temple. She's with Obi-Wan right now."

Anakin let the words sink in before he spoke again. "What about her trial? Have any more clues been found?"

"She is innocent.  There will probably be the official announcement from the Senate tomorrow."

The young Jedi rubbed his hands over his face, still stunned. "That's good...even if I wish none of this had ever happened."

"I think Obi-Wan would only agree with you on that," Plo thought out-loud, causing the boy to flinch again.

"What's going to happen now?" he finally asked.

"Well, you and Obi-Wan will be on trial the day after tomorrow."

"What, why Obi-Wan?" Anakin blurted out, "He didn't do anything."

"The esteemed chancellor never told you that, huh?" replied Plo calmly. He hadn't expected it any other way. It had seemed from the beginning of Anakin's training that the Chancellor held a grudge against Obi-Wan. Of course, he would never tell his personal favorite Jedi what his master had done to allow him to train.

"What are you talking about, Master?" queried Anakin.

Something told him it was not his place to tell this story.

"You know, it's getting late. I think you'll understand what I mean by the trial at the latest."

Skywalker looked at him still confused, opened his mouth to say something, only to close it again directly.

Plo rose from the table.

"I'll talk to Obi-Wan and see if he's willing to talk to you.  But don't get your hopes up too high."

Anakin pursed his lips. "...Of course. I can understand if he doesn't want to."

He could see the boy was serious. Remorse surrounded his Force signature.

"Rest, Anakin," the Jedi master finally sighed, "You too will need your strength."

With that, Plo moved toward the exit of the cell, leaving the troubled jedi behind. As he again strode toward the turbolift, he didn't quite know what to make of the conversation.

Anakin seemed just as confused as Obi-Wan, if not more so.

Somewhere he couldn't get rid of the feeling that something sinister was waiting for them and they were heading straight for it.

Chapter Text

Chapter 12

He couldn't do it.  Even though there was this part inside him that was crying out to understand why Anakin had done what he had done, the irrational part prevailed, trapping him in a vortex of fear.

Ahsoka sat nestled up next to him, but her calming, grounding presence just wasn't enough.

The trial was in a few hours. And then he had to face Anakin. Involuntarily, he gasped for air in an attempt to loosen the knot in his throat that threatened to strangle him.

"Obi-Wan, you must try to breathe calmly," the Padawan spoke, suddenly sounding so adult that he had to wonder if perhaps he had missed more than he thought. Ahsoka had been officially declared innocent yesterday. All this time it had been Barriss. Ahsoka had accepted the information silently, but Obi-Wan had felt her inner turmoil, the anger, but also the incomprehension. He still couldn't understand why she was still sitting at his side. She was free. Nothing should keep her here anymore. What made her so sure he wouldn't betray her too?

If he could, he would run. And never look back.

Obi-Wan continued to struggle for air. His eyes were burning. Maybe he had forgotten to blink again. But it made no difference. The darkness would remain anyway.

Subconsciously he noticed that Padme had not come back as she had promised. Not that he could blame her. Who knows what had stopped her.

Seeing with the Force was everything but easy for him. In good moments he managed to make out individual silhouettes, but most of the time the Force was as helpful as his clouded pupils. It kept slipping away, and in the end, he felt drained of all the energy he had scraped together. Obi-Wan felt like a youngling. His own incompetence made the rage boil up inside him and there was nothing that could stop it.

"No one will force you, Obi-Wan," spoke Plo, whose presence he had almost forgotten, "Anakin only asked me to tell you."

“I know,” he breathed in response, somehow feeling detached from his own body, "How much time do we have left?"

"Just under two hours," the Kel'Dor said after a moment's hesitation. No one had to say out loud that this sounded like a death sentence.

Shortly thereafter, a commlink began beeping. For a moment Obi-Wan thought it was his, but that was a foolish thought. There was hardly anyone who would still contact him.

Finally, Plo quieted the offending noise and left the apartment with brisk steps, but not before Obi-Wan could catch that one of the temple guards was on the line.

"Do you think...?" began Ahsoka, shifting uneasily beside him. 

... it's starting already?

Obi-Wan forced his breathing back under control. "I don't know." There was so little time. And what little was left melted like sand between his fingers.

"Ahsoka, maybe you should..." he began, the words almost sticking to his chapped lips. The padawan interrupted him.

"No," she defended herself confidently, "I'm not leaving."

Obi-Wan slumped his shoulders and rubbed his hands over his aching temples. "I just want you to be aware that it will take time for any of us to be at large again. I don’t want you to throw your future away.”

"I will wait," came the quiet reply, "I don't care how long it takes."

Whatever argument was on the tip of his tongue, he didn't get to it when Plo entered the apartment again.

"Obi-Wan, there's someone here to see you," he said straight out. Something had stirred his friend inside, only what it was remained hidden from him until now.

"Who...?" he was about to ask, but he got his answer sooner than expected.

"Master Kenobi."

Swallowing hard, Obi-Wan sat up straighter. "Mrs. Skywalker."

What was she doing here? Obi-Wan did not know if he could withstand a mother's protective instinct. She had entrusted her child to him. And now look what he had done to Anakin. So much anger and hatred.

"Perhaps it would be better if you left us alone for a moment," he breathed, his voice raspy.

He could feel her emotions as if they were his own. There was anger above all. Obi-Wan would be angry at him, too, if he were her.

He felt Ahsoka hesitate beside him, but a little nudge with the Force that assured her she didn't have to worry about him finally made her leave his side.

Both waited in silence until the door closed behind the two Jedi. With his head bowed, Obi-Wan listened as Anakin's mother walked across the room and finally took a seat opposite him.

So far, she has remained silent. It unnerved him that he could not see her expression. But Obi-Wan could sense that something was bubbling inside Anakin's mother.

"Can you tell me why my son suddenly calls me after months, tries very unconvincingly to make me believe that everything is all right, and a few hours later I have to find out what happened between you?" Her tone was biting and it felt like a knife was cutting into his skin.

Obi-Wan swallowed hard. "I don't know exactly what you want me to say," he went on the defensive.

She gasped and got up from her seat again, pacing through the apartment. After a moment, she came to a stop in front of him. "I want to know what happened," she demanded angrily.

Clenching his jaw, he tried to remain calm. "Anakin attacked me, that's what happened."

"My son would never just do something like that."

Before he could stop himself, Obi-Wan finally raised his head and stood up himself, now standing face to face with her. "Oh really?" he asked with a hiss, giving her a good look at his disfigured face.

A gasp followed, an awkward step backward. Obi-Wan heard Shmi bump into the coffee table and start to fall. He stopped her halfway by catching her arm. Silently, he pulled her up, the anger in his chest subsiding again.

"I'm sorry," he rambled, letting go of her again and averting his face. Not knowing what to do with himself, he sat down again.

Obi-Wan crossed his hands behind his neck as he braced his arms on his legs to suppress the tremors that wrecked through his body. Or maybe he was doing it to hide his face from her. "I wish I knew...," he breathed, “I wish I knew what has gotten into him…”

Shmi still stood rooted to the spot, shocked. Her anger was gone, swallowed like a ship by the infinite blackness of space.

"My gosh...," she finally managed, kneeling down in front of him to lift his head. She then let a hand hover over his scarred temples. “I did not realize…”

He felt the heat of her skin. For a moment there was the desire to lean into that warmth he craved so much.

Obi-Wan grasped her hand and pulled it down, a sad smile on his lips. “Don’t worry about me.”

"Don't worry...," she repeated doubtingly, "I.... my son has blinded you!"

Obi-Wan gently squeezed her hand, as if that could assure her that he would not fall into pieces in the next moments. He had no words to respond. So he let the silence speak for itself.

It was not long after that he heard her sobbing. How could he comfort her when he didn't know how to help himself?

"Anakin will need you..." he finally said, "When this is all over."

Shmi sniffed and tried to catch her breath. "And how will I ever be able to look at him again without having to remember what he did?"

And there they both stood at the same point. Obi-Wan had not wanted to deal with it until now. Or rather, hadn't been able to.

"I don't know if I can forgive him...," he finally tried, his tongue heavy as he spoke, "...but even I realize that I can't hate him. He is and will always be my brother, even though we may never have the relationship we once had."

He remembered the good times. When they laughed and joked together, had each other's backs. And the shatter points that had sent the whole framework reeling. The war. Hardeen. Ahsoka's trial.

When Shmi still said nothing, he continued. "He will need his mother, Shmi. Whatever caused him to do what he did, he needs to heal. And he can't do that here. And I've ignored that all these years."

Where other Jedi had felt comfortable and safe, Anakin had always felt irritated.

"And where will you be if he should ask for you?" she finally whispered.

He had only one answer to that, even if she wouldn't like it. "I don't know," he replied under his breath, "I, too, need time."

His skin ached and itched. Obi-Wan felt the need to scratch and not stop until there was nothing left of him. He withdrew his hand from hers and clenched his fingers.

"I see," she replied, "I.... I have to think about it."

She'd have enough time to do so, Obi-Wan thought bitterly. Whatever came out of the trial today, Anakin and he would not walk out free.

"Of course," he pressed out, banishing his thoughts into the back of his mind.

She slowly withdrew her hand from his and with that the coldness immediately returned. "I should go," she breathed, standing up and taking a few steps back.

Obi-Wan nodded stiffly and stood up as well. "Don't let me stop you."

Once again they found themselves standing in front of each other, not really knowing what to do with the other.

With the knowledge that she was about to leave, fear returned as well. It seemed to be reflected on his face.

Unexpectedly he found himself in an embrace, feeling too overwhelmed to really return it properly.

Somehow he managed to wrap his arms around her body. And with that, the memories returned.

"I'm glad you came to visit us after all," his mother greeted him joyfully, hugging him before the door was even fully open.

Obi-Wan grinned and embraced her as well, giving his father, who was standing in the doorway, an amused look.

"Don't crush our son," the man  joked, at which point his mother finally let go of him.

Snorting, Obi-Wan now also briefly stepped over to his father to greet him with a quick hug. "Glad to see you both, too."

"So you grew a beard, huh?" his father said, running a hand through his own, by now only gray, beard.

"Afraid I'll wear it better than you?" he asked back, raising an eyebrow.

"Doubtful," his father snorted, rolling his eyes.

"Boys, I hate to interrupt you, but the food is getting cold. We should go inside," his mother reminded them.

His parents already went into the kitchen, while Obi-Wan still lingered in the hallway, his eyes glued to one of the pictures. It must have been taken shortly before the Jedi came for him. He was to be seen together with his parents, perhaps two years old. Sitting on his father's lap, he grinned into the camera with big blue eyes, his red hair slightly tousled, holding a small wooden fox in his hands. To his left sat his mother, laughing, her blue eyes sparkling and a strand of blond hair falling into her face. And then, of course, there was his father. His mother was right when she said that he was the spitting image of him.  Auburn hair, beard and, of course, the blue eyes.

"Obi-Wan, are you coming?" his father snapped him out of his thoughts.

Shaking his head, he tore his gaze away from the image, banishing the thought of what would have been if he had never left Stewjon.

He joined them in the kitchen, where freshly baked bread and a delicious smelling soup were already on the table.

"Looks good," he commented as he sat down.

"I hope it tastes like it smells," his mother chuckled, pushing a full plate over to him, "Now I'm curious, how are you and your student doing? What was his name? Anakin?"

Obi-Wan nodded as he took a piece of the bread and bit into it. "We're getting along...I think. It's not exactly easy teaching someone. Sometimes I wonder if I was ever really ready for it."

Obi-Wan had initially considered taking Anakin with him, perhaps to get some distance from the Temple. But the boy seemed less than eager to do anything with his master lately. Now the opportunity had arisen for Anakin to participate in an excursion, and Obi-Wan hadn't had the heart to deny him the wish. So he had flown alone to Stewjon.

"You shouldn't underestimate yourself," his father said, "I'm sure you'll do a fine job."

Obi-Wan forced a clenched grin onto his face, then took another bite.

For a moment, he didn't want to think about his duties, he just wanted to enjoy a moment with his family. Even if one person was missing.

The memory shifted. He was still on Stewjon, just a few days later.

He was still on Stewjon, just a few days later. He was saying goodbye to his parents.

"Come back sometime," his mother said, giving him a hug, "And then be sure to bring Anakin."

"I will," he replied, even though the thought of his Padawan pained him.

Then it was his father's turn. "Remember, we're proud of you," he said, "And the door will always be open for you here if you need us."

"Thank you," Obi-Wan smiled softly, now letting go of his father as well.

The memory wavered again, this time it was him, back on Stewjon, a year later.

He stood in front of the slightly open front door, the key clasped in one shaky hand. In the other he held the picture of himself and his parents. Obi-Wan forced himself to take a deep breath and then pulled the door closed, locking it in one swift motion.  The smell of burning wood still lingered in the air. He couldn't bring himself to look at the remains of the barn.

With heavy steps he moved away from the house, his fingers gripping the picture frame so tightly that he almost left gouges in the wood.

Feeling suddenly cold, Obi-Wan pulled away from Shmi. "You should go now," he murmured hollowly.

Anakin's mother seemed to hesitate for a moment. "You know, if you ever need someone.... I'm here for you just as I am for Anakin."

"I appreciate that, thanks."

She placed a hand on his shoulder. "Be safe, Obi-Wan."

Then she pulled it back and left the apartment.

He felt empty as he stared into nothingness. His skin still itched.

When the temple guards came to pick him up, he could barely muster a reaction. Even as the handcuffs locked around his wrists along with a feeble excuse that the guard had to follow protocol, he didn't care. As they strode through the halls of the temple, he was aware of Ahsoka and Plo hovering at his side. It made no difference; his head was trapped in vacuum.

When they reached the exit of the temple, heat prickled his face. The sun was shining. Obi-Wan lifted his head. His eyes burned.

Sometimes he had dreamed of fire and lava. Had woken up screaming when it felt like he was burning alive.

His eyes still burned as he averted his eyes and pulled the hood of his robe deep into his face.

Someone impatiently ushered him forward, past the glances of prying eyes and drones that would record every single step he took.

Obi-Wan hid his cuffed hands in the arms of his robe. As his fingers began to scratch the top of his hand and the blood began to stick to his fingertips and robe, he no longer noticed.

Chapter Text

Chapter 13

Anakin couldn't tell exactly when the guards had actually come for him. He had taken Plo's advice and tried to get some rest, but he had not found any sleep. Still he had hoped that maybe Obi-Wan would show up, but as time passed, he realized that would never happen. He could understand it, but still it destroyed something inside him when in the end only the guard stepped through his cell door to take him to court and not his master as he had hoped. Perhaps it was the hope of restoring something of what they once had that faded away, or it was the awareness that he was now alone that set in.

After handcuffing him, the guards led him outside to the steps of the temple, where the first reporters were already waiting, pointing their cameras at his face and pelting him with questions.

Anakin ignored all this, turned his head away and continued to walk forward, still flanked by the temple guards.

He would have liked to turn back time. Perhaps for once in his life he should not have been so ignorant, should have seen that perhaps things were not always as they seemed. Time and again he had demonized Obi-Wan, had called him emotionless and heartless. Yet he was just the opposite. Like any human, he felt, and even if he had mastered hiding his pain from others, the signs had always been there. His smile had not been able to hide how his eyes had glazed over at certain moments. Anakin had just deliberately not wanted to see it. Once he had heard Obi-Wan crying after one of their many arguments. Petrified, he had stood in front of the closed door, listening to the muffled sobs. He knew that if it had been Ahsoka in Obi-Wan's place, he would not have hesitated long to comfort her. It had been different with his master. Even if Anakin could never say why that was so.  In the end, he had turned away from the door, had hidden in his anger, had convinced himself that he was in the right.

He hated himself for it.

The only thing left for him to do now was to try to make things right. Obi-Wan did not deserve to be held accountable for mistakes that were not his own.

It felt like an eternity until they reached the courthouse, in front of which the next cluster of people had already formed. Anakin didn't give the people another glance and walked briskly forward, hoping to disappear quickly.

But then he heard her voice. "Ani!"

He almost stumbled as he came to an abrupt stop. "Mom?" he asked incredulously, stretching his neck to find her in the crowd.

"Ani!" it sounded again, and this time he found his mother, relatively far back in the crowd.

"Mom!" he shouted, and tried to sprint off, but the guards immediately held him back.

"Knight Skywalker, we're going to have to ask you to keep moving," one of the guards tried calmly, a hand on his upper arm.

"But...," Anakin calmed down and looked at the man, "... please, let me talk to my mother for a moment."

Something like sympathy showed on his counterpart's face, but still he shook his head. "I'm sorry, I can't do that."

Before the incident, he would have been fuming at this point, but now? Anakin bit his lips and dropped his shoulders. "Maybe at least a minute?... that's all I ask - please."

The man gave him a steely gaze, and Anakin was beginning to think he wouldn't be able to convince him. But then the guard's gaze softened. "All right...but just a minute, and no more, understand?"

With that, he called out to his colleague to let the woman in the crowd through. Anakin stared, transfixed, as his mother wove her way through the crowds and finally came to a stop in front of him.

"Mom..." he began, but words failed him. Should he apologize for what he had done? Should he justify himself?

"Oh Ani...," his mother sobbed, her eyes full of tears as she put a hand to his cheek, "...what did you do?"

He shook his head in despair. "I... I don't know, Mom," he replied, his voice breaking, "I'm so sorry."

He leaned into her touch, for a moment sinking into the fact that his mother was actually here.

The guard interrupted that moment. "Knight Skywalker, I'm afraid your time is up, we must take you to the courtroom now."

Anakin slowly broke away from his mother and looked into her eyes. He could see incomprehension, shame but also fear reflected in them. "I will try to make things right, I promise."

He could no longer wait for her answer as the guard now impatiently pulled him along, through the large door of the building.

The slamming of the door sounded almost final. The corridors that lay before him were relatively empty to the streets outside. Anakin had never been here before, though he knew that many of the criminals they had faced on their missions had been brought here sooner or later.

Just outside the courtroom, they were stopped. The Chancellor stepped into the hallway, his hands folded in his robes and an expression on his face that somehow made Anakin shudder.

This man had forced Obi-Wan to go on the mission. Had caused Anakin to distrust his own Master so much.

Stiffly he straightened up and met Palpatine as neutrally as possible. "Chancellor," he greeted the man with a shallow bow.

The Chancellor's lips curled to reveal a toothy grin. "Anakin, my boy," the latter began, "I am terribly sorry you are in this situation."

Anakin swallowed hard and would have preferred to take a step back. "I alone am responsible for my situation.  The only one who is here for no reason is Obi-Wan."

Palpatine's expression darkened almost imperceptibly to the outsider, but Anakin could see the glare in his eyes. The gnarled hand that came to rest on his shoulder made him freeze. "What did they tell you, my dear?"

Anakin tried to shake the hand off, but couldn't move. He wanted to answer, but the words kept escaping his grasp. A fog had settled around him and it took away some of his memories.

You did... you did what? What was he going to accuse the chancellor of?

He didn't know anymore. All he knew was that Obi-Wan had failed him. And that he had taken his revenge.

The Chancellor's blue eyes held him captive, and he couldn't even tell anymore if he was sorry for what he had done.

"I... they didn't tell me,” he muttered as if in a trance.

Palpatine continued to smile. "That's what I thought. Don't worry, I'll help you."

When the hand was removed from his shoulder, the veil that had settled around him did not disappear. Frowning, Anakin rubbed his temples, watching as the Chancellor disappeared through one of the doors to the side.

Still confused, he let the guard lead him into the already packed courtroom, past the benches to the front with a small table to the left and two chairs. The guard unceremoniously seated him in one of the chairs and then took his place against one of the walls. Anakin looked around and noticed that the table to the right was already occupied.

Obi-Wan.

The man kept his head down and seemed to absently tug at the bandages wrapped around both of his hands.

Anakin didn't know why, but anger was rising again inside him.

His stare seemed to have been noticed when Obi-Wan finally raised his head and turned it in his direction. The man's eyebrows drew together as if he were trying to discern something. But Anakin didn't have to be a doctor to see that wasn't possible. Obi-Wan's eyes were milky, the skin around them angry red and bulging where the scars had formed.

Silently, Anakin averted his eyes again, suddenly uncomfortable. It was as if something was missing from him. He didn't know what it was, but something was very wrong here.

He was jolted out of his thoughts when the judge finally took his seat and the chancellor also entered the room.

"I would ask you to be quiet," the judge ordered, waiting for silence to fall in the room, "We are gathered here today to deal with the incident between Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker and Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi."

The judge's gaze first fell on him. "Anakin Skywalker, you are charged with aggravated assault on Obi-Wan Kenobi. Do you object to this charge?"

"No, your honor."

He watched as the statements were carefully recorded.

"Can you explain to me how the incident occurred?"

Again, there was that pressure in his head. "I was angry," he finally admitted, turning his head in Obi-Wan's direction, "I felt abandoned."

"And that's why you saw the only way out was to get physical?"

Anakin's eyes remained fixed on his former master, who was not looking at him but had simply turned his head forward. "Yes," he gritted out.

"Do you regret it?"

The answer was actually on the tip of his tongue, but suddenly he found it difficult to formulate the words. He averted his eyes and looked first at the judge and then at the chancellor, who was watching him intently. "I don't want to make a statement about that," the words fell out of his mouth, and immediately there was uneasiness in the hall as some of the listeners made their disbelief known.

Was that really what he had wanted to say? Anakin didn't know.

"I again ask for silence," the judge again demanded in an authoritative voice.

"Knight Skywalker, has there ever been any violent confrontation between you and Master Kenobi?"

"Not that I can recall," Anakin returned, a little irritated.

Before the judge could ask any more questions, the chancellor interjected. "Your Honor, may I make a comment?"

Without much hesitation, the man agreed. "Proceed, Chancellor."

Palpatine rose from his seat and moved to the center between the two tables. "I well remember meeting young Skywalker while he had visited the Senate for a tour with a group of younglings. The boy had had a black eye and when I asked him how that had happened, he had been very evasive."

Again, a whisper went through the hall.

"Chancellor, what are you getting at with that statement?"

Palpatine smiled. "Of course," he glanced in Obi-Wan's direction, "I merely wish to question how, or rather from whom, he received the black eye."

Anakin glanced briefly over at Obi-Wan, who still had a neutral expression on his face. He himself barely remembered what might have happened.

An assistant of the judge threw a holo on the wall. It showed a snapshot of a video recording in which he could be seen quite clearly - and also the black eye.

"Master Kenobi, can you perhaps tell me something about this?"

The addressed sat up a little and folded his hands. "I think just before, Anakin and I had a little training accident."

"A training accident?" the judge raised an eyebrow questioningly, "Could you elaborate?"

Obi-Wan sighed, "Well, we were doing a Force exercise," he explained calmly, "where you sit across from each other and a ball is moved back and forth between you using the Force. Over time, you get faster and faster at it. Anakin missed said ball at one point and was unfortunately hit very unfavorably in the eye."

"I see. Master Kenobi, am I correct in thinking that you may have overestimated your student's ability?"

"He was in no way lacking in skill. Rather, I think his concentration had waned at that moment."

"I understand, were there any other witnesses to the incident, perhaps?"

Obi-Wan shook his head. "I'm afraid not. Of course, there are the records in the Halls of Healing, but there's probably nothing more written there like I just described."

The judge hummed and wrote something down. "Were there any other such... accidents?"

"I don't think I understand what you're getting at exactly, your honor."

Adjusting the small round glasses on his nose, the judge glanced at his files. "Well, Master Kenobi, you are here today because you are accused of child neglect and endangerment regarding Anakin Skywalker."

Anakin could see Obi-Wan visibly slump and it almost hurt him to see his former master like this. Even though it was still nearly impossible for him to form a clear thought.

"I never willingly put Anakin in danger," he said.

"You agreed to take full responsibility for his actions so that the boy could be trained, even though there had been many concerns. What drove you to do this?"

"Anakin deserved a chance, I decided to give it to him."

Lie, whispered a dark voice in Anakin's head, you are merely a promise to a dead man. Subconsciously, he clenched his hand into a fist.

"You have been the victim of your student's rage; do you believe you are also the cause of it?"

Obi-Wan scratched at his hands. "Quite, yes," he replied a little hoarsely.

"Have you sought help?"

"I...no, I have not."

"Why not?" the judge probed further.

Biting his cheeks and pursing his lips, Obi-Wan took a moment before answering. "Because I thought I could do it on my own."

"So, you deliberately put your own pride before the needs of your student?"

For the first time, Anakin could see something like anger come across his master's face. "No, I did not," he pressed out, "And I will answer no more questions."

Something twinged inside him, and Anakin felt the need to say something, but there was only emptiness in his mind.

"Very well," the judge finally said, "The court has no further questions. We will now retire for the time being for the sentencing discussion."

With that, the judge, along with the jury and the chancellor, left the courtroom. An oppressive silence fell over the room and once again Anakin caught himself looking over at his Master.

Only now he noticed that Obi-Wan seemed ill. He was paler than usual and he thought he could see a little sweat on his forehead.

Remorse wanted to overtake him and again he asked himself why he had not been able to say anything to support his friend.

 Obi-Wan contorted his face and carefully put two fingers to a particularly red glowing spot around his eyes, only to quickly take them away with a wince.  He was in pain.

Bile slowly crept up his throat, and Anakin forced himself to look away as he felt sick. It was his fault. And now he hadn't even managed to help Obi-Wan.

Sinking into shame and self-pity, he only belatedly realized that the judge had re-entered the courtroom and was now apparently ready to pronounce the verdict.

His breath caught in his throat with tension.

The judge calmly sorted through his documents before he began to speak. "The court has deliberated and has now reached the following verdict," the man readjusted his glasses and picked up a document, "Anakin Skywalker, based on the evidence before you, the court has decided to sentence you to five years in the Republic Judiciary Central Detention Center for aggravated assault."

Anakin's mind shut down as shock set in. Five years. Here in Coruscant prison.

"Obi-Wan Kenobi, due to your significant influence on the development of Anakin Skywalker, the court has decided to sentence you to a term of three years in the Republic Judiciary Central Detention Center."

When the gavel fell, Anakin knew it was now over for them both.

Chapter Text

Chapter 14

Three years.

Considering the accusations that had been made, Obi-Wan had expected worse. It hurt that no one supported him - and that Anakin in particular had remained silent. Instead, he had felt hatred and anger from his friend. Obi-Wan had tightened his shields in a pathetic attempt to evade Anakin.

Just before the trial began, a Medic had hastily and messily bandaged his bleeding hands, the thick bandages limiting his movements, yet somehow, he managed to keep scratching. It was as if the pain was the only thing keeping him from losing his mind.

Child endangerment. Obi-Wan had expected them to drag up flimsy accusations, but still the shock had run deep at the announcement. Even if he were free again in a few years; the brand would remain forever. People would hate him and even if he couldn't see their stares, he knew they were there. Burning, digging into his flesh, leaving deep wounds.

His greatest enemy was still only himself. Even if people would eventually forget what had happened - he never would.

A guard came over to him with clacking steps. "Kenobi," a gruff, authoritative voice rang out, "please stand."

Despite the throbbing pain in his head, Obi-Wan did as ordered, swaying briefly and leaning awkwardly on the table in front of him with his bound hands to regain his balance.

The guard didn't seem to care, because without waiting long he grabbed his upper arm and pulled him along. Obi-Wan stumbled. His knees hit the hard ground before he even knew what had just happened to him. He hissed through clenched teeth as pain rippled through his bones.

"Now don't act like that," the guard hissed in exasperation, pulling at his arm again, but Obi-Wan lacked the strength to get his feet under him. " As you wish," the man murmured, summoning one of his colleagues, who grabbed his other arm rudely. Mercilessly, the two men hoisted him up and pulled him forward, more or less kneeling. They ignored his weak protest when he asked them to wait at least a moment so that he could at least try to stand up. His knees dragged further above the ground and he could already feel the first abrasions forming on his skin.

Where they were pulling him, he couldn't say, but he knew he wasn't going the same way he had come. Apparently, they passed a door, because they stopped briefly before the guards continued with their transport.

"Can we please...," Obi-Wan put in again desperately as the pain in his knees grew worse, but was immediately stilled when a punch hit him in the pit of the stomach.

"Keep it down, scum," the guard to his left barked, punctuating his sentiment by jabbing a finger at Obi-Wan's scar. Blinded by the pain, he jerked his head away, at which the guard laughed.

"Get used to it," the man grunted, "your new friends in jail like you even less."

With that, they stepped through another door and a shallow breeze hit his face. He heard the hum of a speeder and the click as its doors were apparently opened. Suddenly one of the guards let go of his arm and grabbed his legs instead.

Surprised by the sudden change in orientation, Obi-Wan could do nothing but flounder helplessly like a fish on land. For a brief moment, he wanted to use the Force to push the men away, but he knew that would only make things worse.

With momentum, the two threw him into the waiting van, causing Obi-Wan to land on his bound hands and hit his chin hard on the metal floor, making him taste blood moments later. Dazed, he pulled himself up a bit and spat out, retching on the metallic taste in his mouth.

"Hey, what are you doing?" an angry voice called from behind him, and only now did Obi-Wan realize that he was not alone in the speeder.

Anakin.

"Stay out of this, Skywalker," the guard barked, striding around him to hoist him back up. Unceremoniously, he was ferried into one of the seats against the wall, his hands and feet secured with binders.

Apparently satisfied with his work, the guard exited again, slamming the door behind him. Obi-Wan could imagine how it must have become dark around them now.

Breathing heavily, he rested his head against the cold wall behind him and tried to calm himself. All the strength he had gathered for the trial had slipped away. Every single vein inside him burned like fire. His body wanted to demand much needed rest, but his mind disagreed. He was not safe here. Whether the guards or Anakin were the greater danger, he couldn't tell.

"Obi-Wan...?" a cautious voice finally asked again, "... are you - are you alright?"

How do you think I'm doing? The anger in him wanted to snap back, but instead he remained silent.

Anakin seemed to move to face him as the soft crackle of electricity emanating from the binders filled the air. "I... I’m sorry. For everything. I should never have attacked you... You've always been there for me. And at the interrogation just now... I don't know what happened, it was like I was suddenly missing memories. Palpatine, he..."

Obi-Wan finally interrupted him. "Just leave it, Anakin," he murmured wearily and deflated, still struggling to breathe, "You've done enough."

The pressure in his head was becoming increasingly unbearable, and when he closed his eyes for a moment, he found he no longer had it in him to open his eyes again. He was losing the battle with unconsciousness. The last thing he heard was someone calling his name and he again tested the solidity of the ground with his skull.

The steel was really hard.

He only woke up again when something stabbed him in the arm. Obi-Wan jumped up. At least he tried. Once again, his hands were in restraints and there also seemed to be some sort of belt wrapped around his waist, which effectively pinned him to the surface he was lying on.

"Hey, hey," a feminine voice called from beside him and a hand settled on his shoulder, "Easy, I'm trying to help you."

His heart was pounding up to his throat. He tried to regain his bearings with the help of the Force, but it kept slipping from his grasp. Realizing that his efforts were in vain, he eased up and dropped his head again, only now noticing that there was a pillow there.

"Where am I?" he asked in a hoarse voice.

"You're in the prison infirmary here on Coruscant," the woman told him, not unkindly, "You collapsed during transport."

"Oh," was all he could produce in response.

The hand on his shoulder squeezed gently. "The guards gave you quite a beating," she murmured, "I don't often see the Chancellor's unit personally getting their hands dirty."

Obi-Wan could only snort hollowly in response. "Lucky me."

It wasn't until the doctor took her hand away that Obi-Wan noticed that he was obviously only wearing his underwear and they had put a blanket over his legs, the scratchy material clinging to them.

"...Where are my...?" he continued, but she understood him as it was.

"I'm afraid no personal belongings are allowed in prison; they've already taken them from you."

His ears burned red with shame as he realized that someone had undressed him while he was unconscious. Fortunately, he had given Ahsoka the necklace.

Again, his hands itched and Obi-Wan tried to lift them, but of course he didn't get far.

"Wait," the doctor muttered, starting to rummage for something. After a moment, she seemed to have found what she was looking for. A soft clack sounded and the shackles around his wrists fell off.

His surprise scarcely concealed, he rubbed his aching hands. Though he still couldn't stand up, it was better than nothing. "Thank you... Why are you doing this, if you don't mind me asking?"

"You don't exactly seem like someone who would try to stab me with a knife at the first opportunity," she replied, slightly amused.

"Appearances could be deceiving," he muttered, rubbing a hand over his face. His fever still made it hard for him to form a clear thought, but at least he was feeling a little better than before. Remembering the sting that had woken him up, he concluded that she must have injected him with something.

"Really?" she challenged him, "Since the beginning of our conversation, there's been a small knife here beside you on the table. And I know you Jedi don't even need your hands to move it."

Obi-Wan turned his head wearily in the direction he suspected the table was, blinking. He had no idea where the knife was. He couldn't even get a rough picture of the woman who was talking to him. The longer he tried, the more it became a mystery to him how Tahl had managed to see anything anyway.

His state of mind must have shown on his face when the doctor spoke again. "It's giving you trouble, isn't it?"

"What do you know?" he murmured back, staring ahead, more unfriendly than she actually deserved.

She seemed patient. "Well, before I started here, I worked on a traveling medcruiser. At one point, I had a blind woman as a patient. She was also Force sensitive, but was not a Jedi. She had told me that she managed to use the Force to see."

Obi-Wan frowned. "I know it can work. The only thing that remains closed to me so far is how."

"I think you'll figure it out sooner or later."

If only it were that simple. Still, it felt good to talk to someone who didn't just treat him with hatred and dislike.

"May I ask what drove you to start here?" he ventured, "I doubt the pay here is particularly good... or that the patients are especially appealing."

She laughed shallowly, and for a moment she reminded him a little of Satine. "No, they certainly aren't...and I'm not going to answer that question for you today."

Obi-Wan's face fell. "I'm sorry...I didn't mean to offend you."

"That's alright," she retorted, and he could hear that something was bothering her. It had never been his intention to make her sad. But apparently that was what he was best at.

"I have to go, the other patients are waiting," she said finally, standing up, "Try to get a few more hours rest before they come for you, Mr. Kenobi."

"Obi-Wan," he muttered before he knew better, "My name is Obi-Wan."

When she didn't answer, he wondered if she had already left and it had escaped him, but then she spoke up. "Very well, Obi-Wan... but I meant it, you really should try to get some strength. You're going to need it."

With that she was about to leave again, but he stopped her one last time. "Wait, could I at least get your name, Doc?"

"Sadie," he got in reply, and a moment later he heard her footsteps moving away.

Now he was alone again.

With effort, he managed to turn onto his side and pull the thin blanket a little higher. His mind still hadn't processed the events of the last few hours. He wondered what he had done wrong to deserve this. Was he such a bad person?

Exhaustion took him away from finding the answer. Obi-Wan closed his eyes.

Satine was there again. As before, she stood there, arms open. Obi-Wan could not bring himself to move toward her.

Her smile disappeared and she lowered her arms. "What's the matter, Obi? Why don't you come here?" she asked in her sweet voice that chased him in his best and darkest dreams.

Obi-Wan shook his head and awkwardly took a step back. "You're not real."

Satine tilted her head. "Of course I'm real, dear."

The moment she stepped toward him, he immediately backed away. "No you're not."

Suddenly she paused, staring blankly at him. And then abruptly, she was gone. Obi-Wan whirled around, but there was nothing. Only blackness. He called her name, but no one answered.

"I'm sorry," he breathed into the nothingness.

"You should be sorry," suddenly hissed a voice to his right, and he found himself face to face with Satine. Her blue eyes gone, leaving only black, endless sockets. "You killed me," she breathed, shoving him away.

Obi-Wan fell. Whether he ever hit the ground he didn't know, as he was jerked back to reality.

Gasping for air, he woke up, disoriented. He wanted to startle up, but the thing around his waist held him back.

"The Duchess?" unexpectedly sneered a voice beside him, "You don't really think that woman was ever in your league."

The guard was back. And apparently, he had been talking during his nightmare.

"At least I've gotten further than you ever would have," he grumbled back quietly, having little patience, and turned onto his back.

A hand closed hard around his chin and jerked his head back. "What did you say?" the man demanded angrily.

Obi-Wans grabbed the man's wrist. He knew the guard was very close to his face. The man stank. Wrinkling his nose, he wanted to answer but they were interrupted.

"Hey, what's going on?"

Sadie.

Neither he nor the guard let go. If Obi-Wan could see, he'd probably stare into the dark flashing eyes of his counterpart.

"The worm here has offended me," the guard growled, and at that Obi-Wan was met with an odor that nearly made him retch.

"Let him go," Sadie said, "You know it's against the rules to touch prisoners when it's not necessary."

The guard laughed, but to Obi-Wan's relief, finally let go. "Believe me, it was necessary."

His boots squeaked as the man moved away from the bed. "You know my offer still stands," he purred, addressing Sadie.

Obi-Wan heard a hand being slapped away and had to stifle a smirk.

"Get your hands off me, you creep," Sadie bit out, "Now wait outside, I'm not done here yet."

"You don't know what you're missing," he snapped, but eventually left the room.

Sadie sighed and moved somewhere to Obi-Wan's right, judging by the sound again looking for the key to the shackles.

"Here," she finally murmured, stepping up to the bed, "I'll take that off for you."

With a click, the belt holding him to the bed finally opened.

"Thank you," Obi-Wan said as he carefully sat up, his abdomen aching from the blow the guard had given him during the transport, "Is he giving you trouble?"

She snorted contemptuously. "He just can't take no for an answer. But I know how to fight back, thank you."

Obi-Wan raised his hands placatingly. "I... I didn't mean to be presumptuous."

Sadie only hummed in response, and a moment later she pressed a bundle into his hands.  "Here, put this on."

His fingers brushed over the rough fabric and he knew exactly what he had on his hands. Black shirt. Orange jumpsuit. Memories of the Hardeen mission came flooding back, threatening to make him sick. Was Bane still here?

I'll give you a reward when I plug you full of laser bolts!

Although he had been aware of what was coming, he had not really dealt with it. Now it was too late.

A little awkwardly, he managed to pull the shirt over his head the right way, pleased for a short moment that it took the chill off a little. The overall took him longer, and inwardly he cursed himself for his own incompetence.

Sadie was still around, but thankfully didn't comment on his struggle.

After half an eternity he had made it and put his feet on the cold floor, feeling for the shoes he knew had to be there. This time, the Force apparently had mercy on him, for he found them relatively quickly.

When he finally finished, the doctor approached again, carrying something humming. The sound made Obi-Wan's stomach twist again. Binders. Again.

"I'm afraid I'll have to put these on you," she said apologetically, "Give me your hands."

At least they're not Force-suppressive. Resignedly, he held out his hands and a moment later the metal shackles around his wrists clicked shut. It surprised him when, moments later, a shackle around each of his ankles snapped shut as well.

Obi-Wan pressed his lips into a thin line. If the guard should now decide to play his tricks on him again, he had only the Force to defend himself. And he knew better than to use it here. They were just waiting for him to give them a reason to take the Force away from him.

"Come on, get up," Sadie finally said empathically, and Obi-Wan did as instructed, having no real choice.

A guiding hand on his upper arm, she led him across the room and he took the opportunity to scan his surroundings with the Force. First he sensed Sadie, the rest of the patients, and then the guard, behind a wall. Obi-Wan's eyebrows drew together, forcing himself to sink deeper. The Force was not giving him any more information. Frustrated, he refrained from further attempts and instead concentrated on not tripping over his own feet.

Small steps.

A door opened and Obi-Wan stepped through, not exactly thrilled about having to be alone with the guard now.

"Took you forever," said man grumbled, immediately checking to see if the restraints were properly applied.

If I really wanted to kill you, I wouldn't even need my hands, Obi-Wan thought bitterly, but kept his expression neutral and let it wash over him.

"Here we go then," the guard grunted, pushing Obi-Wan forward rudely, "And don't you collapse again, I'm not dragging your damn ass here again."

Decisively preferring to remain silent, he shuffled ahead, his every step accompanied by the electric hum of the binders. So the chancellor had assigned his personal henchmen to transport him. Obviously, Palpatine did not trust the actual guards in the prison.

Obviously, he still wasn't walking fast enough for the guard when a toe hit him in the back of the calf. Obi-Wan stumbled briefly, but caught himself again, thank the Force. He whirled around and fixed the guard with a cool stare. "That was unnecessary, don't you think?"

He almost expected to be punched, but surprisingly the punch failed to materialize. There were probably cameras. "That's none of your business, scum. Now get a move on before something else happens!" grumbled the guard, pulling out an object. Immediately, Obi-Wan felt a kind of hole form in the Force in front of him. A Force-suppressant collar. "Or are you and I going to be in trouble?" the guard asked menacingly.

Obi-Wan clenched his jaw. "No," he finally pressed out and turned back around to continue walking.

"Good choice," the man behind him laughed, putting the device away again, "We wouldn't want your new friends to have it any easier than they already do."

His stomach twisted at the thought, but he stopped himself from letting it show. A lot might have been taken from him, but burying his head in the sand now wasn't going to help him. He had to be strong if he wanted to survive here.

They passed through an airlock of sorts and were met by two clones. Obi-Wan was almost relieved to hear the familiar voices. Fortunately, the two men also took over the rest of the transfer and the greasy guard finally disappeared.

"Come, let us take you to your cell," one of the clones said in a neutral voice, pushing him forward with a hand on his shoulder blade, but not so fast that Obi-Wan lost his balance.

With the two men, he climbed onto the platform he already knew, the one that had brought him to the cell with Bane and Eval back then.

Hopefully he did not have the pleasure with the two again. They moved slowly upwards and finally came to a stop.

As one of the guards removed his shackles, a question forced itself to Obi-Wan's mind. "May I ask who I'm sharing the cell with?"

"You haven't been told?" the clone snorted in amazement, deactivating the ray shield that sealed the cell, "Skywalker, of course."

Stunned, Obi-Wan allowed himself to be pushed forward, only half noticing the shield close again behind him with a hiss.

Of all the people in here, they had to lock him in with him.

Movement was audible from one of the upper bunks and a moment later a pair of feet touched down on the floor.

"Obi-Wan," Anakin said, almost sounding like a wounded animal.

Obi-Wan swallowed hard and threw his mental shields into place.

He would not let Anakin get that close again.

Chapter Text

Chapter 15

"Obi-Wan."

Anakin's fingers twitched nervously as he struggled to remain calm. His Master stared unseeingly toward him, his jaw tense, his posture stiff. His hands were still wrapped in bandages.

"Who did this?" he asked cautiously, his throat tight.

Obi-Wan's face darkened and his hands clenched into fists briefly, but that was all the reaction he gave.

Pursing his lips, Anakin shifted uneasily on his feet. He didn't know what worried him more, the silence or the fact that Obi-Wan was like a ghost in the Force. He scanned for the usual signs of a Force-suppressant collar, but found nothing. Obi-Wan shielded from him.

Swallowing hard, he took a step back, putting a little distance between them in this tiny cell. "The two lower beds are still vacant...," he finally murmured, "The one to your left is under mine, the one on the right has none above it."

Obi-Wan's eyes twitched briefly to either side, probably more a reflex than really serving any purpose. Then, without paying further attention to Anakin, he slid over to the right-hand bed and sat down.

The orange of the jumpsuit made him look paler than he usually was. But Anakin knew that it was not only that. There were lines on his friend's face, the shallow breathing and the way he held himself.

He is in pain.

"I'm sorry..." he whispered, backing away fully now, "I... I'd better let you." Averting his eyes, he heaved himself back up onto his bed.

And then the light went out. Bedtime. The cell was filled only with the reddish glow of the laser shield, and when Anakin looked down at Obi-Wan again, he found that he still hadn't moved. His milky eyes glinted in the dim light. Anakin's heart contracted painfully.

What have I done?

It was minutes, or perhaps hours, before Obi-Wan finally retreated completely to the bed, but he did not lie down. Instead, he pulled his legs in, leaned against the wall, and continued to stare at nothing.

He didn't sleep.

Anakin felt helpless. He knew that prison was changing everyone - and it scared him what would become of them both. A sinking feeling in his stomach, he turned over on the hard mattress and tried to get some sleep.

He found maybe 3 hours of sleep before the light was rudely turned on in the cell. Groaning, he sat up and found that Obi-Wan was still sitting there just as cramped as he had been that evening.

"Did you sleep at all?" he asked as he climbed down from the bed and busied himself with putting on his shoes.

Anakin didn't expect an answer, but was still surprised when he got one.

"What's it to you?" grumbled Obi-Wan softly, his voice raspy.

He paused what he was doing and looked up, blinking. Obi-Wan had turned away from him, his face turned toward the laser shield. "Nothing... I guess."

Somehow, he had never imagined that he would one day be uncomfortable in his Master's presence. Of course, he had pushed Obi-Wan away time and again, made it clear that he didn't want him there, but still - his friend had always been there somehow. And now Anakin suddenly found himself on the side that had been pushed away.

It hurt, even if he would never have admitted it to himself before.

How had I ever treated Obi-Wan - or any human for that matter - like this? No one deserved that.

He sighed and finished putting on his shoes. "They'll be coming to get us for breakfast in a minute. You should get ready."

Not that there was really much to do there. Besides their beds, there was just a small sink and toilet in the cell.

Obi-Wan slumped his shoulders at that and gave a snort before swinging his feet over the side of the bed, continuing to barely acknowledge Anakin's presence. He felt around with his feet for his shoes, but they were a good distance to his left.

Anakin pressed his lips together, thinking for a moment about leaving Obi-Wan to his own devices. But guilt took over, and with a swipe of his finger, he moved the shoes with the Force so that they bumped gently against his friend's feet.

His master went rigid, teeth clenched, his fingers clawing into the edge of the bed. He then finally expelled a breath and leaned forward, gripping the shoes.

"Thank you," he muttered softly, and proceeded to put the shoes on.

Consciously, Anakin chose not to answer. Instead, he watched through their cell opening as the guards took the first prisoners from their cells. It would not be long now.

Although the laser shield confined them to this tiny room, it also protected them. Anakin was sure that everyone in the prison knew about the Jedi newcomers. They were probably already rubbing their hands together.

Even if Anakin didn't want to admit it to himself, he knew that Obi-Wan and he had to stick together to survive here. The question was whether his master could ever trust him again - or even wanted to.

With a hiss, the laser shield deactivated, and two clones waited for them on the floating platform. "Skywalker and Kenobi, come out," one of them ordered in an authoritative voice, but at least Anakin could sense no malintent in either man.

Having no other option, he finally stood up and moved to join the two guards on the platform, only to find that Obi-Wan had not followed.

"Kenobi, the order applied to you as well. Come on get up," the man repeated himself, growing impatient.

It was not Obi-Wan's way to protest unnecessarily in such a situation. That had always been Anakin's territory.

Frowning, he watched as the man finally started moving toward the cell exit with scurrying steps and a hand on the wall to guide him.

It wasn't until Obi-Wan came to a stop next to him that Anakin realized what was going on. A thin layer of sweat stood on his friend's forehead and his breathing came shallower than normal.

How did I miss that earlier?

Previously, he had thought it was just pain plaguing the other Jedi, but as he now saw, it was also illness.

"You should see a doctor," he whispered softly, so the two guards wouldn't hear.

Obi-Wan squared his jaw in response and shook his head, his fingers curling up.

"You're almost falling over, you know-" Anakin argued again in a hushed voice, but he was rudely interrupted by his friend.

"No," Obi-Wan hissed angrily, fixing him with those milky, bloodshot eyes. There was fear, well hidden by a neutral expression, but Anakin knew his master too well to let such a thing escape him.

"Hey," one of the guards interjected, "I didn't give you permission to talk."

Anakin left it at that.

Shortly after, their platform began to move and they were finally escorted into the large dining hall. As soon as the large doors swung open, an oppressive silence settled on the room.

"So much for attracting as little attention as possible," Anakin grumbled, finding himself facing several hundred pairs of eyes. It was as if they had been waiting just for them. He stretched his back and glared back angrily. It didn't take a genius to know that they had just entered the lair of the Gundarks. As for who was the leader here - that remained to be seen.

The doors were closed behind them and the slamming sound burst the silence like a bubble.

Many prisoners averted their eyes again, focused back on their food. Others, however, continued to study them both. Their eyes wandered first over Anakin and then over to Obi-Wan. A sardonic grin followed, a flippant whispered comment to their tablemates - and a laugh.

I don't like this.

It was clear which of the two of them they already considered the easier target. Obi-Wan seemed unimpressed by it all, but maybe he just hadn't noticed, as absent-minded as he seemed to be.

"Come on," he nudged the man with his arm, "Let's get something to eat."

Obi-Wan pursed his lips and abruptly pulled the touched arm away.

"Woah, hey," Anakin tried placatingly, "I won't hurt you."

His words seemed to have no effect as his Master instead stepped back a bit, holding his arms defensively in front of him as if Anakin were a threat.

"Why should I believe you?" he growled, his eyes glistening with unshed tears, "...have you ever once told me the truth?"

And again, the attention of the room was on them. Anakin let his eyes wander briefly before focusing on his counterpart again. "I don't think this is a good time to discuss such things," he replied as calmly as he could.

Obi-Wan screwed up his face in disgust. "You expect me to trust you when, conversely, you never could...," his voice was sharp as a knife, "...how naive do you think I am?"

There was an anger that burned dangerously under his friend's skin.

"Obi-Wan, please... we need to work together here."

"We?" asked Obi-Wan incredulously, lowering his hands, "We don't have to do anything. I don't want your help, Anakin."

Anakin swallowed around the lump that had settled in his throat. "And what if I need you?" he breathed.

Obi-Wan laughed scornfully in response. "Suddenly you need me?" he snarled, "For years I held out my hand to you and you slapped it away... I thought well, give the boy his space... just be there when he needs me."

He puffed and lowered his head for a moment. "...And then I had to learn that you trust even someone like Palpatine more. That I'm apparently not worthy of being part of your life as well..."

"...Obi-Wan..."

"...No, you've rarely showed more than hatred for me," his master continued, snorting, "...and I was foolish enough to think we were friends... tell me, what stopped you from ending it?"

He took a step forward, giving Anakin a good look at his disfigured face.

"I...," he started, but the words stuck in his throat.

"I what, Anakin?" hissed Obi-Wan, this time pushing him back ungently so that he almost stumbled, "If I've been such a drag on you, why don't you just get rid of me, huh?"

"...I don't want to kill you."

"Well maybe you should have!" barked Obi-Wan back, his chest rising and falling heavily before he slowly calmed down again and added in a whisper, "...then at least I'd get to see one of the few people who cared about me again... wouldn't always have to feel like I was out of place and unwanted."

The words made the hair on the back of Anakin's neck stand up. "...I didn't want that."

I don't remember what I wanted at all.

"Stop lying, Anakin," Obi-Wan huffed out, through clenched teeth.

Desperation spread through him. "Please, give me another chance."

He decided to take a step toward Obi-Wan and hold out his hand. A mistake, as he had to realize too late. Something changed in his friend's face and Anakin had perhaps a millisecond in which to detect Obi-Wan's right arm begin to move.

A blink later, the fist painfully met his temple, snapping his head to the side. Even in his weakened state, Obi-Wan had one hell of a hook.

But it didn't stop there.

Dazed, Anakin didn't register until it was too late how a body - Obi-Wan's body - collided with his, knocking him to the ground.

And then the next fist hit - and the one after that. He lost track.

It probably took no more than seconds for someone to tear Obi-Wan off him, but to Anakin it felt like an eternity. He tried to let out a breath of relief, but the blood in his mouth clogged his throat. Coughing, he tried to open his sticky eyes, but he couldn't manage more than opent them a bit. With blurry vision he saw Obi-Wan being dragged out through the doors and he wanted to ask where they were taking him, but he produced nothing more than a groan.

There were voices he couldn't place and it was getting harder to concentrate.

So he closed his eyes.

Chapter Text

Chapter 16

Padme watched as Ahsoka paced nervously in front of the sofa, arms crossed in front of her chest. Sighing, she placed Anakin's lightsaber back on the table next to the small handwritten note.

"Sit down, please, Ahsoka," she finally murmured, exhausted, "You're driving me crazy."

The Padawan finally stopped, eyeing her with a look that at first contained something like defiance before it was replaced with resignation. Biting the inside of her cheeks, Ahsoka finally sat down on the small armchair that stood next to the sofa.

"Sorry," the girl breathed, rubbing her temples.

If she was honest, she didn't really know how to help Ahsoka. With the trial, she had just lost the two people who had always been there for her. Padme herself hadn't made it to the trial, or even to Obi-Wan again. Guilt gnawed at her as she thought about it. In the days she had left, she had tried with Bail and other trusted senators to help Obi-Wan.

But in the end, it had been to no avail.

And in the end she had been denied access to the courtroom. By order of the chancellor.

She had no choice but to follow the spectacle via holo. With each passing minute, the lump in her throat had grown larger, until in the end she had even felt sick. The accusations were far-fetched, everyone who knew Obi-Wan even a little knew that. And yet they smeared his name, took away his dignity.

Padme didn't know what made her more angry. The accusations or Anakin's refusal to defend his master - his best friend - in the slightest.

When she had come home and found the note with Anakin's lightsaber, she had felt betrayed.

Did she even know Anakin, the man she was supposed to love?

Several days had passed since the trial. Since then, silence reigned. Not only did they not know what was happening in the prison, but Ahsoka was much quieter than usual. Together with Master Koon they had tried to get through to her, but without success.

It felt like she was walking on a minefield.

"What are you thinking about?" she finally asked, watching as Ahsoka fiddled with the chain around her neck.

Ahsoka's fingers paused before finally gripping the pendant tightly. "He said he was afraid," she finally croaked, staring ahead, "...and that scares me."

Padme finally rose from her seat and stepped over to Ahsoka, kneeling down and placing one of her hands around the Padawan's, the other she used to lift the girl's head. "Even though Obi-Wan has never shown it openly, he feels fear just like any other person. Jedi or not, no one may close themselves off completely from their emotions."

The padawan sniffed. "That is not how I was taught."

"And yet you witnessed their emotions over and over again... love, joy... but also anger, sadness, and fear."

Ahsoka averted her eyes. "I guess."

"Do you think less of them now?" she echoed.

For a moment, Ahsoka remained silent before answering softly. "No... but I don't know what to believe anymore either."

Despite all the experience Padme had, she still wasn't able to tame such a situation. She needed a Jedi. Reaching for the commlink that lay on the table, she finally dialed Master Koon's frequency, which he had recently given her. The Kel'Dor had taken care of accommodations for Anakin's mother first.

The commlink was already beeping longer than normal, which caused Padme a little concern. But finally the call was answered.

"Koon," came the reply. The man sounded stressed and a little out of breath.

"Master Koon, it's me, Padme Amidala," she finally said, a little worried, "...I need your help... it's about Ahsoka."

Voices and sounds of speeders could be heard on the other end of the line.

"...I'll be there as soon as I can," Plo replied, "...I was on my way to you anyway."

A pit opened up in her stomach. "What's wrong?"

"I don't want to discuss this via comm right now, but... I was at the prison... something happened."

Padme cursed inwardly and gritted her teeth. "Okay, we'll be expecting you," she replied, her voice as confident as she could manage.

When Plo hung up, she couldn't help but slump her shoulders in defeat. Every time you thought you'd hit rock bottom, an even deeper hole opened up.

"What did he say?", Ahsoka snapped her out of her thoughts.

Shaking her head, Padme looked at her seriously. "Not much, he's on his way here. He has news from the prison."

Dread spread across Ahsoka's face, and Padme hated herself for it. "Bad news, then?"

"I'm sorry, Ahsoka."

The Padawan got up from her seat again and started pacing again, only this time Padme didn't have it in her to stop her. Not when she herself felt the need to just storm off.

The few minutes it took Plo to get to them felt like hours.

When the Jedi Master finally arrived, the two women waited, spellbound, for his news.

Plo sighed and sat down on one of the couches, rubbing his temples. "I wanted to see if I could visit Obi-Wan... apparently there was an incident."

"What?" both Ahsoka and Padme blurted out simultaneously, aghast.

The Kel'Dor indicated for them to sit down, which they did for him to continue. "Obi-Wan attacked Anakin... they assume that if the guards hadn't intervened in time, he might have even killed him."

"...That doesn't sound like him at all," Ahsoka, who unlike Padme was still able to put her thoughts into words, breathed, stunned.

Padme stared back at Plo, and if the man could show it, she'd probably see him avert his eyes.

"...And what about Anakin?" she finally dared to ask, swallowing around the thick lump in her throat that still took her breath away. Even though she didn't know where she stood with Anakin at the moment, she still couldn't help but worry about him as well.

"I'm sorry, Padme," the Jedi Master said softly, "When I asked about him, all I was told was that he would be in the infirmary and unable to receive visitors."

Why does the universe hate us so much?

Putting her head in her hands, Padme suppressed a sob. She didn't know what else to do.

Plo sighed and let his gaze wander between the two of them. You didn't need to be a Jedi to sense that he was feeling the same way, except that he was somehow forcing himself to stay upright and look ahead. Padme didn't understand where he got the strength.

"...I think it would be good to get some distance from this whole thing... for both of you," he suggested sympathetically.

Padme shook her head vehemently. "I can't just stand by and ignore it... as a senator and as a friend, it's my duty to do everything in my power."

"With all due respect, no one is any help if you break from this... so please, Padme, think of yourself for a moment as well."

Standing up, she faced the Kel'Dor, eyeing the man closely. "And what gives me the right to dump all this burden on your shoulders? ...What gives you the right to presume that I have less strength than you?"

"It is not a question of strength, Senator," Plo returned calculatedly, "I have never doubted that. But I know from experience that one's limitations are sometimes closer than one would like. So I ask you again to leave the matter to me, at least for a few days. Because someday I will need you... and then with everything you have to offer."

Padme squared her jaw and held his gaze. He might be right, but she didn't like it.

Ahsoka, who had been silent until now, now interfered. "What are you not telling us, Master?" she asked, tilting her head.

The Jedi Master now turned his attention to the Padawan. "Please, don't ask, Ahsoka," he whispered, crossing his arms in front of his chest in a rather pitiful attempt to hide the twitching of his fingers.

"We have a right to know," Ahsoka continued to insist, eyes blazing.

Plo remained adamant. "It would bring you nothing but pain."

Ahsoka's gaze darkened and she bared her teeth. Before the girl was about to say anything, Padme intervened. "Ahsoka," she said, putting a hand on the Padawan's shoulder, "...maybe he has a point... you haven't been yourself since all this happened."

Something seemed to deflate inside Ahsoka, and her eyes softened again as she began to realize it as well.

"Look, it may not be what you want to hear, but I think it would be best for you if you maybe left Coruscant for a bit," Plo began again, "I was able to convince Anakin's mother to travel back to Stewjon tomorrow. Perhaps you would like to accompany her."

The Padawan gnawed on her cheeks and clenched her fingers. "What if I don't want to go?"

Plo eyed her with a fatherly calm. "Then I will not force you. It's your choice. The only thing I can promise you is that I will do everything I can to help Obi-Wan in the meantime."

She paused for a moment, then finally nodded. "...Okay ...I think - I think I need a moment to myself... you can find me at the temple if you're looking for me."

With that, Ahsoka stormed out before anyone could stop her. Frozen in place, Padme stared at the door closing behind the Padawan.

"Did we make a mistake?" she asked hoarsely.

"No," Plo assured her, "She'll understand."

Padme nodded silently and finally turned back to the Kel'Dor. "What did Ahsoka sense? Do you know something you've been keeping from us?"

The Jedi expelled a breath and seemed to think for a moment. "... I was able to gain access to some video footage from the prison. It's not pretty, Senator."

There's a spark inside her again, trying to ignite the fire in her veins. It's a rage she can just barely control. Master Koon's hints are enough for her to already imagine what the records would show.

"Show them to me," she bites out, "please."

For a moment it seemed like Plo was going to refuse, but Padme shot him another determined look, so he did finally pull a chip out of his pocket and walk over to the holoprojector placed in the corner.

Before activating the device, he turned to her again, "Are you really sure?"

Padme raised her head. "Don't ask me again."

Plo tipped his head and turned on the projector. The first recording could be seen. It apparently showed the arrival at the prison.

The transporter backed into the gate and it wasn't long before the doors swung open from the inside and two guards stepped out, a struggling Anakin between them. He seemed to be shouting something and kept turning back to the speeder as they dragged him away, but unfortunately the recording had no sound.

Obi-Wan followed next, and what Padme saw made her breath catch in her throat.

Two more guards got out, a motionless body between them.

Obi-Wan.

Unceremoniously, they dumped him on the floor in front of the transporter, his limbs twisted and pinned uncomfortably beneath him. Still he did not move an inch.

"What did they do to him?" asked Padme in shock, staring at the holo.

"If I only knew," Plo murmured defeatedly, "After the trial, we were forced to leave the chamber directly.... The guards must have given him a good beating pretty much immediately after that."

One of the guards spoke into a commlink and it wasn't long before a stretcher was brought in. Roughly, they transferred Obi-Wan, caring little that his arm fell back down and also his head was more or less hanging over the edge.

Padme leaned forward as she got a good look at Obi-Wan's face in the camera for a moment.

His eyes were only slightly open, but it was enough to see the terror and pain in his milky eyes. Blood was running from the corner of his mouth and one could only hope that he had only bitten his tongue during whatever the guards had done to him. The bandages around his hands had also turned dark, as had the fabric of his pants above his knees. Even in the bluish, dim image, it was obvious that it was blood.

"These monsters," Padme growled as the first shot ended, "This is inhumane."

Plo quietly hummed in agreement, "I'm afraid there's more."

The second shot showed Obi-Wan with a guard in the hallway, already in prison garb. Their friend was shuffling forward more than walking, hampered by the bindings around his ankles. Right behind him, the guard followed.

Suddenly there was a skip in the shot and the next moment Obi-Wan suddenly stood facing the guard, a grim expression on his face.

Padme frowned in irritation and rewound. Once again, the strange skip was visible. "Something's missing," she muttered.

"Mhm," the Kel'Dor agreed with her, pointing to the guard, "That guy there is one of the chancellor's personal guards."

At that, Padme perked up. "I don't like the sound of that."

The recording continued. The guard pulled something out of the pocket of his uniform, but you couldn't tell because his back was to the camera. Whatever it was, it made Obi-Wan take a step back. Obi-Wan mouthed a quick reply before obediently turning away again and continuing on his way.

"The man threatened him with something," Plo commented, one hand under his chin, "And there aren't many things that really rattle Obi-Wan."

Padme let his words run through her mind. "Do you have something specific in mind?"

The Jedi lowered his arm again. "I honestly don't know. You could threaten him with anything. Obi-Wan's back is against the wall, and he's well aware of that."

"That's not very encouraging," she returned dryly, staring at the projector where the next clip was already loading.

"I never tried to be encouraging, either."

The last shot showed a large refectory. Many prisoners were already sitting at the tables and eating what was served to them as food. In the next moment Anakin and Obi-Wan entered the room and within seconds all the attention of the room was on them.

As if spellbound Padme looked at the image.

Anakin said something to Obi-Wan as he intently let his gaze roam the room. When Obi-Wan barely reacted, he nudged his master's shoulder, whereupon he jerked back as if he had been burned.

For the next few seconds, it looked like the two were arguing, though surprisingly it looked like Anakin was the calmer of the two.

What happened next left Padme gasping.

Anakin was about to reach for Obi-Wan, and it was at that moment that something changed on the Jedi Master's face. Teeth bared, Obi-Wan swung his fist at Anakin - and struck with full force. Padme's husband went down hard, and immediately Obi-Wan was on him - continuing to punch him without mercy.

Shocked, Padme put her hand over her mouth and had to turn away for a moment as she threatened to feel sick. Silently, she forced herself to look again.

Guards came rushing in, pulling the two apart, with four guards already struggling to hold Obi-Wan back, who seemed intent on inflicting further damage on Anakin, a man already lying motionless on the floor. They pulled him out of the room and the recording switched. One of the guards tried to handcuff Obi-Wan, but failed. With a burst of the Force, he threw three of the guards back, causing the men to collide with the surrounding walls. The fourth abruptly let go of him, seeming to frantically shout something into his commlink.

Obi-Wan stood in the hallway breathing heavily, his hair disheveled and his knuckles bloody. His expression resembled that of a wild animal. More guards joined them, including again the man they had identified as Palpatine's personal guard. Two of the guards drew some sort of electric batons and approached the disoriented Jedi. Obi-Wan expertly dodged the first blows, but the guards quickly gained the upper hand as his strength began to fade. One of the sticks hit him hard on the hip and he went down with a silent scream, where the second guard planted the tazer directly on his chest. Only when he lost consciousness did the guards let him go. Palpatine's henchman stepped forward, knelt in front of Obi-Wan, and pulled something out of his uniform again.

And just at that moment, the recording ended, leaving Padme in a sort of trance.

"He's not in any more recordings," Plo informed her quietly, removing the data chip from the projector, "Even his presence in the Force is gone."

Padme blinked, still fixated on the now deactivated holoprojector. She didn't know how to process what she had just seen.

Was Obi-Wan finally broken? And did this justify his attack on Anakin?

Her stomach twisted painfully as her thoughts continued to circle.

"Padme?", Plo snapped her back to reality as he placed a hand on her shoulder, "...perhaps you should sit down."

Stunned, she let him lead her back to the sofa and sat down, shivering.

"Deep breaths," he continued to speak to her, "Try to calm down."

She tried to follow his calm voice, but would not succeed. Plaintively, she continued to gasp for air. Through his black mask, Plo continued to look at her closely, his hand a steadying presence on her shoulder.

Realizing that her panic was not abating, he placed a finger on her forehead. "Sleep," he breathed.

Padme's mind had nothing to counter this, and she sank into darkness.

Chapter Text

Chapter 17

Darkness and cold greeted him as Obi-Wan struggled back to consciousness.

My new most loyal companions, he thought bitterly.

The hard metal floor promised nothing in the way of comfort, and the still-present bindings around his wrists immediately told him that the guards had nothing left for him either. A rancid smell rose to his nose and the dirt under his fingers told him that wherever he was, it had not been cleaned for a long time. Unmoving, he tried to get a picture of his surroundings with the Force - only to find that he couldn't reach it. Instead, there was this instantaneous, intense pain that coursed through his entire body as he tried, causing both new and old injuries to scream out.

An electric shock.

Stunned by pain, Obi-Wan awkwardly fingered his neck, where he directly found the instrument of torture. A thin metal band stretched tightly around his neck, almost cutting into his skin. He felt no clasp. Disheartened, he dropped his hand back to the floor and tried to breathe through the pain.

After a few minutes, it finally became bearable and Obi-Wan dared to move to a slightly more comfortable position. Another mistake, as he had to learn painfully.

An involuntary scream escaped him as he tried to turn his hips and immediately even the thought of moving was gone. Obi-Wan gritted his teeth convulsively and held as still as he could.

His head spun, his stomach rolled over, and he wished he had never woken up. Powerless, he let his head flop back to the floor and tried to remember.

He had attacked Anakin, supplied his brain vaguely. Then guards had come in, had dragged him away. He had fought back, even with the Force. Next came glaring pain. Batons. Electric shocks. And the Force suppression collar.

Obi-Wan continued to lie still on the floor as pain coursed through his entire body. He was at his wits' end. Not even able to sit up, he was forced to remain in the same position as the guards had thrown him into the cell.

He let out a wicked laugh as the situation began to sink in. Ever since he was little, he had always denied it.

But now he saw it clearly. Nobody wants you. The universe has no place for Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Obi-Wan closed his eyes, even though it made no difference, and forced himself to give in to exhaustion. He didn't feel like himself anymore. Attacking Anakin... he didn't know what had happened. Something inside him had just snapped. All the pain, frustration but also anger had just flowed freely through him. But most of all, panic and fear.

He didn't even know if he felt anything like remorse. There was only this burning in his veins. Emotions he had always kept locked away - emotions he had never allowed himself to feel - wanted to come out.

Memories, both good and bad, flashed through his mind's eye. Qui-Gon, telling him with a warm smile that he was proud of him - only to replace him with Anakin the next moment.

Was he lying?

Cody and the men as they laughed and joked together. Then the hours after a long, bitter battle, Obi-Wan equipped with nothing but a spade, wanting to at least give the fallen a place to rest if they couldn't bring them home.

Home... where was that anyway?

Anakin, how he looked at him with shining eyes when Obi-Wan told him that he would train him to be a Jedi - until the day his life was plunged into never-ending darkness.

... I thought we had been brothers.

His cell was opened, followed by heavy footsteps and a clatter as something was thrown ungently to the floor.

"Eat," a gruff voice commanded before the man turned back around, boots squeaking, and exited the cell again.

Half-heartedly, Obi-Wan fingered for the tray - but couldn't find it. Every little movement made his back burst into flames. His legs felt like someone was stabbing him with thousands of needles.

He decided he wasn't hungry.

Hours, maybe even days passed that Obi-Wan spent in a more or less conscious state. The first thing he noticed as apparently two people were in his cell discussing.

"He hasn't even touched the food yet," one of the two men, obviously a clone, noted with concern.

"That's not our problem," grumbled back the other, whom Obi-Wan identified as the person who had brought him the food earlier, obviously not sharing much of his comrade's sentiment.

A moment of silence passed before the first spoke again. "... That's not right," muttered the guard.

A contemptuous snort. "You'd better do as you're told, rookie," the other murmured, unnerved, "If you don't want me to send you back to Kamino, you'll clean up the trays now and see that you get ahead... or I'll find someone else."

A pair of steps moved away, leaving only the clone behind. Obi-Wan flicked his eyes in the direction he suspected the young man was heading, as if that might do him any good. Scrabbling, first one, then two, and finally three and four trays were picked up from the floor.

I must have lost consciousness at some point after all.

The noise died away as the guard stood up and apparently paused for a moment. It was so quiet that Obi-Wan almost didn't hear it.

"...I'm sorry."

Obi-Wan didn't reply, letting the words wash over him. The clone shifted on the spot, perhaps expecting some reaction, but when he got none, after another moment of hesitation, he left the cell with brisk steps.

A clack sounded, signaling to Obi-Wan that he was now alone again. His stomach growled and his throat was dry as Tatooine's deserts, but all this was indifferent to him.

If this is how I am to end, then so be it.

A bitter thought he had had before during many battle.s The difference was that before, he had at least had the privilege of dying alongside his comrades.

Only not like this. Alone. In the dark. Forgotten.

He wondered how his men were doing. Had they already been assigned a new Jedi? Or even been split up? Obi-Wan could only hope they were okay and not suffering from his mistakes.

Cold slowly made its way into his body as the thin jumpsuit offered little protection against the cold metal floor. If he could he would warm himself with Force, but as it was all he could do was pull his arms a little closer to him.

He drifted back into an unrestful sleep until a noise called him back to consciousness.

Someone entered his cell again. This time, however, they were not heavy steps, but light and graceful. No guard.

Pausing, he listened as the cell door was gently closed again and the footsteps slowly approached him. Obi-Wan braced himself, though he had little to counter the person if he had bad intentions.

"Hey, it's alright," a familiar voice finally spoke, "It's Sadie."

She knelt down and seemed to survey him. "Those bastards..." she cursed under her breath.

Some tension released from his body and Obi-Wan allowed himself to breathe normally again.

"What are you doing here?" he croaked, his voice failing.

"I got a tip that someone down here could use some help," supplied her, "Well, apparently this one was correct."

The new guard.

He heard her set something down and a moment later something opened. "Here," she said, pressing a bottle shallowly to his lips, "Drink, but carefully."

The water was like a balm on his dry throat, and if he could have, he would have emptied the whole bottle, but she took it back first.

"Thank you," Obi-Wan screwed up his face. "I don't want anyone to get in trouble because of me... you'd better get back before someone sees you."

"Don't even try," the forcefully retorted, "I'm a doctor. It's my job to help others."

"And what about the newcomer?" he asked adamantly, "If they find out he informed on you, I guarantee they'll send him back to Kamino."

"They won't find out."

pursing his lips, Obi-Wan craned his head in her direction. "Do you know what they do to clones who are sent back?"

Sadie remained silent.

"They call it reconditioning," he continued, remembering how Cody had once confided in him, "The men never come back."

"I promise nothing will happen to him," she said after a moment, her voice steadfast.

Obi-Wan could give little credence to her words and merely hummed.

"Do you think you can move?" she finally asked.

He shifted a little, but his hip immediately protested painfully. "No," he grunted, through clenched teeth.

She put a hand on his shoulder to make him stay still again. "Okay, okay. Don't move. Where are you in pain?"

Obi-Wan expelled a breath as the stinging finally eased a bit. "Lower back. Hip. My legs feel numb sometimes."

Sadie took her hand off his shoulder and went back to looking for something. A moment later, the familiar tone of a medscanner sounded. "Hold still," she said as she ran the device over his body, whirring.

After a short time, the device fell silent as the scan completed. When Sadie said nothing, Obi-Wan grew uneasy.

"So, am I dying?" he asked dryly, even as he found even that humor increasingly difficult.

 "No," she murmured back intently, "...at least your spine is intact. Your pelvis, on the other hand... I can see two fractures."

"Great," Obi-Wan murmured, resting his head on the floor, "...I still don't understand why they don't just shoot me."

The doctor huffed. "Well... practically speaking, that would be murder. But I don't think I need to explain that to you."

She set the scanner aside. "I'd prefer it if I could take you to the medbay. But that would really be too conspicuous, I'm afraid. The fractures look reasonably stable, so I'm hoping a Bacta injection will help for now. That means I need to move you to that bed over there."

"I didn't realize they were so gracious after all," Obi-Wan grumbled back, a little embarrassed that he hadn't managed to find either his food or the bed in all his time in this cell.

"I'll give you some painkiller so you can at least move around a little," Sadie explained, rustling as she began to prepare something, probably the syringe.

Obi-Wan silently stretched out one of his arms as far as it would go with his hands chained together.

A moment later, Sadie took his still-bandaged hand, paused briefly when she noticed the cuffs, and then proceeded by pushing up his sleeve and beginning to disinfect a spot.

"Ready?" she asked when she was satisfied with her work.

"Just go ahead," Obi-Wan agreed, and only a moment later he felt the sting that made him involuntarily startle briefly again.

"Hold still for a few more minutes," she said gently, "Then we can try to get you on your feet."

"Okay," breathed Obi-Wan, trying to follow her advice.

"You did quite a number on your cellmate, by the way," she said as they waited, "Broke his nose and cheekbones several times... first thing he did when he was awake was ask for you."

Confronted directly, he began to feel ashamed. "I guess I should be sorry now," he muttered, wishing he could turn away from her gaze, which he knew had to rest on him.

"I'm not going to judge you. I don't have the right to...," she paused for a moment, "but you both seem - lost."

"I won't forgive him, if that's what you're getting at," he retorted harshly.

Sadie hummed thoughtfully. "Bold words, don't you think?"

Obi-Wan bit the inside of his cheeks. "I was wrong about the person I trusted the most. I thought Anakin was my brother... now I don't even know if he was ever my friend."

A tremor moved through his body and he pulled his arms back to him. "How can I forgive him if I can't trust him?"

"I guess you'll have to figure that out for yourself," Sadie replied, "Do you think we can move you now?"

Obi-Wan moved his legs a little in response. The pain was still there, but the painkillers had taken a little edge off. "It's fine," he finally said.

"Very well." Sadie moved around him and knelt at the side of his head. "I'm going to lift you up slowly now, so if the pain gets too much, let me know."

He nodded curtly and thereupon her arms reached under his upper arms. Sadie gently moved him to a sitting position, already causing a strong burning sensation in his back. Obi-Wan breath hitched and he wanted to brace himself on the floor out of reflex, but his bound hands allowed little movement.

The doctor paused. "Are you all right? Do you want me to wait a moment?"

"I'm fine," Obi-Wan pressed out, "Keep going."

If we wait now I don't know if I'll even be able to stand up.

Together they heaved themselves to their feet and Sadie wrapped Obi-Wan's arm around her shoulder as far as it would go with the handcuffs. It was an undignified process. Obi-Wan's legs wouldn't cooperate, which meant Sadie had to pull him more or less completely. His hip screamed with every movement and he had to grit his teeth to resist the pain.

"Just keep on breathing," Sadie ordered as she expertly moved him forward.

A humorless laugh escaped from his throat. "You're starting to sound like Helix," he yipped between gasps of breath.

"Who's Helix?" asked Sadie back, her voice strained.

"The medic of my battalion," supplied Obi-Wan as Sadie finally lowered him onto the bed.

The mattress was thin, barely providing any cushion between the metal sheet that served as the bed frame. And it stank. Perhaps even worse than the rest of the cell, if that was even possible.

Still, Obi-Wan was happy not to have to lie on the cold floor anymore.

"Before I give you the Bacta, I'd like to take a look at the site."

If he was honest, he was already pretty exhausted from the previous procedure. But he needed her help, so he let her.

Obi-Wan shifted a little so he could slip the top of his overall down, at least as far as he could with the cuffs on his hands.

"Any chance you can remove those?" he asked demurely, holding up his hands, even though he basically already knew the answer.

"Unfortunately no," Sadie returned apologetically," I don't have a key for these. I'm afraid we'll just have to make do."

Defeated, Obi-Wan lowered his arms and let her work. Gently, she examined first his back and finally his hip, where she finally stopped.

"When was the last time you ate?" she asked suddenly as she ran another scan.

Obi-Wan opened his mouth to answer, then closed it again when he realized he didn't even know the answer.

For weeks already, he hadn't really felt hungry. Endless missions and reports for the Council, Satine's death, the continuous quarrel with Anakin; even within his own four walls he had not been allowed to find peace. The thought of food had passed quickly there.

"I don't know," he said sullenly, "...couldn't find what they brought here."

It wasn't a lie, but it was also nothing more than a pathetic excuse.

"I see," Sadie took her hands from his back, "Do you still feel ill?"

"No more than I did before," he answered honestly, "I feel drained... cold... without the Force - it feels like a part of me is missing."

At that, she blanched. "You can't reach the Force?"

Obi-Wan blinked.

She hadn't seen the collar yet.

Wordlessly, he pulled back the collar of his shirt so she could see the fine metallic band.

Sadie gasped, extending her fingers until they came to a stop just above the band. Obi-Wan felt the warmth.

"... May I?" she queried tentatively.

He only tipped his head shortly in response, feeling detached somehow.

Her fingers slid over the metal. "I can't see a lock," she murmured, "No seam... nothing...." Sadie let her hand hover over his neck again where the tape pressed into his skin. "It cuts you."

"...It also delivers electric shocks when I try to reach the Force..." he added wearily, releasing the collar of his shirt so that his tormentor was hidden again.

Sadie seemed to have fallen into a kind of stasis as she still didn't move from her position.

"Sadie?" asked Obi-Wan as the silence began to stretch.

It seemed to have the intended effect. Sadie recoiled and managed to break free of her trance. "I... I'm sorry... I've just never seen anything like this before.... This is - this is just cruel."

Obi-Wan didn't want to upset her. "It's not your fault," he tried to reassure her, "You're doing what you can."

The doctor expelled a breath, and if Obi-Wan had to guess, she probably just dropped her shoulders. "Still... it's not fair."

"The galaxy has never been a kind place," he retorted wryly, "We just have to learn to make do with what we are given."

Sadie said nothing in response and instead began preparing the injection.

Obi-Wan silently allowed her to do so, this time only flinching a little as the needle was placed just above his hip.

"Done," stated Sadie, helping him pull the overall back up, "Let me put some more Bacta on your neck and hands."

Again he let her, even though they both knew it was just a drop in the bucket. His neck would be bloody again in a few hours.

Sadie methodically finished replacing the bandages around his hands and settled back.

"Okay," she said, "Just one more thing."

She turned to her bag and pulled out something Obi-Wan already recognized from the sound.

A ration bar.

Without much fanfare she pressed it into one of his hands. "Here, you should eat that."

He let his useless eyes flicker between the bar and the doctor before giving in.

The thing tasted just as awful as he remembered her, but as he ate he realized how hungry he actually was.

It wasn't long before he held out the blank paper to Sadie and she plucked it from his hand.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome," she replied softly and stood up, "I'm afraid that's all I can do for now. Is there anything else I should know?"

Obi-Wan shook his head. "No. You've helped me enough already."

Sadie sighed. "Not even close... before I go, would you like me to tell Anakin something?"

Staring ahead of him, Obi-Wan let his mind wander. He was conflicted. Should he make a move on his former best friend? Or was that naive?

"No," he finally pressed out, "I have nothing to say to him."

"As you wish," Sadie murmured, visibly disappointed, but not contradicting him, "... I'll try and see what I can do for you."

With that, she left him alone. Perhaps it was selfish, his behavior.

But Anakin had made his choice and now Obi-Wan was making his.

Both had to get along with it, whether they wanted or not.

Chapter Text

Chapter 18

Ahsoka let her eyes wander over the now deserted apartment. She had loved this place. Now the only thing that remained were shadows. Gone was the feeling of security. Shattered memories replaced previously happy moments.

With heavy steps she moved through the living area, side-stepping droid parts and datapads. On the kitchen counter still lay the pad with the message from the quartermaster.

When had the point been when things had started to break?

Her eyes found the shelves on the walls filled with various models of starships.  Eleven models to be exact - one for each birthday he had shared with Obi-Wan. There was no twelfth to be seen. Not because it didn't exist. Ahsoka knew the small box was still sitting unpacked in her Grandmaster's room. Anakin had been furious when he discovered the gift on his desk on his 21st. She remembered exactly how he had stomped to Obi-Wan's closed room door and after a moment's hesitation had set the package down there. Ahsoka had watched the proceedings with a kind of detachment from her room, thinking for a moment about taking the model - just so her Grandmaster wouldn't have to see it.

She hadn't. Perhaps an hour later, Obi-Wan returned from a council meeting and headed first for the kitchen, unaware of the knife thrust that would await him. Methodically, he made his tea, a birthday gift from Anakin. Ahsoka's stomach twisted as she watched through the crack of the door as he headed in the direction of his room with the steaming cup - only to come to a dead stop outside the door. Frozen, he stared at the gift at his feet and he turned briefly to Anakin's room, face falling.

The Force buzzed with hurt as Obi-Wan finally picked up the box, his face almost painfully neutral, even though Ahsoka knew it was just a mask he would drop as soon as the door closed behind him.

She hated all of this.

All the room doors were open and she caught a glimpse of her master's room, untidy as she knew it. Obi-Wan's room, on the other hand, was almost empty. There were a few boxes piled up next to his desk, where he had already begun to gather his few possessions - about to leave them.

She padded into the room, her eyes wandering before they caught on the small wooden fox on the nightstand that she had seen before. Affixed, she approached and took the figurine in her hand. The details made the little creature seem almost realistic. Someone had put a lot of time and love into this project. Ahsoka ran her finger over the small notches in the wood, smiling. When she went to put it back, she noticed something engraved on the bottom.

Obi-Wan. Our Light in the Dark. In Love, Mom & Dad.

Ahsoka's smile fell. When she was younger, she had once asked Obi-Wan about his parents.

Normally, Ahsoka cared little what the other Padawans said. Yet somehow it was just this one thing she couldn't ignore.

Her parents.

She knew it was normal for children to be taken early by the Jedi. But the thing was - everyone had a story somewhere in their file, if only a name of one of the parents. For Ahsoka, there was nothing there. A blank spot was all that could be found for her.

Crestfallen, Ahsoka had gone home after class and had stepped, lost in thought, into the kitchen - where she nearly collided with her Grandmaster, who was preparing dinner.

Surprised, she grinded to a sudden halt and blinked. "I thought you were still on a mission," she blurted out.

Obi-Wan jumped and looked up, apparently similarly surprised by her presence. "Oh, Ahsoka," he smiled, "it's good to see you. Yes, the mission went shorter than expected."

Somehow it bothered her that he had noticed her so late. Master Kenobi usually knew she was on her way before she even entered the apartment.

Crossing her arms, she studied him for a moment. He looked tired, but that was little unusual for him; perhaps he was a little pale. From his collar peaked the corner of a Bacta patch.

"How did the mission go?"

Humming, he turned back to cutting the vegetables. "It was... alright... I think. We were able to successfully destroy the Separatist base."

Ahsoka stepped closer, momentarily forgetting her own worries. "What happened?" she finally asked, pointing briefly in the direction of the patch.

"Oh that," Obi-Wan ran a hand over the back of his neck, "Nothing bad. Stray blaster bolt. I already got to listen to Cody's lecture."

This didn't really sound convincing, but she left it at that for now. "If you say so... but if you just came back, why don't you rest a bit?"

Her Grandmaster paused in his movement, blinking. "I guess I just needed something to do."

‚I had to keep my mind occupied so I wouldn't have to think about what had happened‘ was probably more what he wanted to say, but Ahsoka didn't press him.

"I see," she murmured, absently scratching her elbow.

Obi-Wan let his gaze wander briefly to the chrono on the wall before settling on her. "And you?" he asked, "You're here earlier than usual. I thought you were still meeting up with your friends?"

Why does he always have to be so observant?

Ahsoka shifted on her feet. "... I didn't feel like it today."

Setting the knife aside, her Grandmaster frowned. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah... of course," she evaded, "... I guess I just needed a moment to myself."

"Oh," Obi-Wan took a step back, looking a little startled,"...don't let me stop you then."

That was not what she was trying to accomplish.

"I...," Ahsoka finally put in, faltering for a moment, "No... if I'm honest, it's not that."

Obi-Wan eyed her with worry. "Anakin should be back here soon if you'd rather talk to him... I can call Plo too."

Her stomach clenched painfully. How did they always make him feel unwanted?

She shook her head and sat down on an empty spot on the kitchen counter, dangling her legs. It made her feel a little like a youngling, but it didn't matter now.

"We talked today about our origins...," she murmured finally, "... and about our parents."

Her grandmaster tilted his head, still not quite understanding. "And what's bothering you?"

She didn't really know how to explain it. "It's just... there's just nothing about my parents, Master," she waved her hand in frustration, "... just a blank spot."

Obi-Wan looked at her with sympathy. "Just because there are no names in your file doesn't mean your parents don't love you, Ahsoka."

She bit her lips. "Why did they never reach out then?"

"When parents give up their children, they want to give you a chance - a future that offers more than they ever could," Obi-Wan paused for a moment, "Often they find it hard to contact their children years later for fear of making a mistake."

Ahsoka only hummed in response, letting the words sink in.

"...If you really want, we could look for your parents," Obi-Wan cut in, "You have the right."

Sighing, she rubbed her forehead. "I don't know what I want... I mean, you, Master Plo and Master Anakin, you're my family. And my parents? I don't even remember them."

Obi-Wan gave her a soft smile which didn't quite reach his eyes. "It is solely your choice, my dear."

If only it were that simple.

"I just...," she glared at him, "what would you do? ... Do you know who your parents are?"

Immediately his expression turned bitter and pain and sorrow flashed through Force.

"... I knew them, yes," he pressed out in a hoarse voice, averting his eyes.

She should never have asked.

"I'm sorry," she offered uncertainly.

"It's not your fault," he breathed, staring ahead, "You couldn't have known."

Ahsoka swallowed hard. "... What happened, if you don't mind me asking?"

For a moment he didn't answer and she thought she had gone too far, but then he gave his answer so quietly it was barely audible.

"They died a few years ago," he whispered, "There was a fire in the barn, it trapped them… they were only able to recover their remains."

Numb, she finally put the little fox back in its place and stepped back. That had been the moment she had understood what the contents of the letter she should never have found had been.

A knock at the door jolted her out of her thoughts. "It's open," she called out of habit and reentered the living room.

The apartment door opened, revealing her guest.

"Mrs. Skywalker," Ahsoka greeted before briefly letting her gaze wander over the chaos in the apartment, "I... sorry, I wasn't expecting visitors."

Anakin's mother smiled gently. "It's all good, Ahsoka. How are you?"

Biting her lips, she let her thoughts wander. "I don't know," she finally murmured, shrugging her shoulders, "This place... it's just not the same anymore."

Shmi came closer and picked up one of the many droid pieces scattered on the floor. "I never imagined my son would be capable of something like this...," she placed the part on the kitchen counter after a moment's contemplation, "And yet I must have been mistaken."

Ahsoka said nothing.

"I heard you might be accompanying me," Shmi continued, looking at her, "If you want to, of course, I'll be the last one to make you do anything."

I don't know what I want!

"There's nothing here to keep me here anymore, I guess," she replied absently. Whatever this place was to her, a home it was no longer.

Shmi watched her quietly as she went into her room and grabbed a bag, automatically packing up her things - as she had done for many missions before. Ahsoka didn't think anymore. In just a few minutes, she slung the bag over her shoulder and only faltered as she was about to leave her room again - her eyes glued to the shelf next to the door. In a rather old-fashioned looking frame, there innocently stood a photograph.

It was perhaps a few years old, but Ahsoka remembered it clearly. A diplomatic mission had brought her to Alderaan with her masters. It had been almost unusual for them to be sent on such a mission - but perhaps they had just been granted a small moment of peace. The negotiations had quickly ended successfully and they had been able to enjoy Alderaan's beautiful nature for at least one evening.

The picture showed them sitting together on the shore of a lake. It had been a starry night. Anakin and she leaned together against a large stone and gazed up, so that the small celestial bodies were reflected in their eyes. Obi-Wan, on the other hand, was not looking up at the sky. He sat across from them, watching them both with a smile almost hidden by his beard.

R2 had taken this snapshot without her knowledge. It was only months later that the droid had shown her the picture, after the situation between Obi-Wan and Anakin seemed to escalate further and further.

In a pitiful attempt to remember the good times, Ahsoka had had this photo printed on a piece of flimsi and placed it on this shelf.

Ahsoka stared for another moment before tearing herself away. Determined, she walked past Shmi, who was standing in the doorway of her room, and left the apartment. Only in the hallway of the temple she stopped and waited until Anakin's mother followed her after a few seconds.

"Are you sure this is what you want?" she asked.

Without answering first, Ahsoka closed the apartment door. "Yes," she finally breathed, "I'm ready."

"Very well." Shmi gently placed a hand on her shoulder. Together they headed toward the hangar and it was absurd, but to Ahsoka it felt like she was leaving a big part of her life behind, though that wasn't the case. She would be back. She didn't know when or how, but she would.

Stewjon was a chance for her to heal and learn - but perhaps also to forget.

Chapter Text

Chapter 19

Three hours and 46 minutes. Since then, Anakin had not seen the doctor. He kept his eyes fixed on the obsolete chrono on the wall, watching as the hands slowly advanced, accompanied by an almost obnoxious ticking.

Anakin took another whistling breath. Despite bacta treatment, his entire face was still badly swollen, forcing him to hang his mouth open a little to get any air at all. He didn't judge Obi-Wan for that. He had deserved that.

Shortly after he had woken up, he had asked the doctor about his master. Unfortunately Sadie had not been able to help him and somehow that had caused an uneasy feeling to spread inside him. A few hours ago a guard had suddenly appeared and had said something to Sadie, which Anakin had not understood because of the droning in his ears. Whatever it had been, the doctor had grabbed the first aid kit and left the medbay.

The time alone made Anakin think again. Still he did not know how to justify his own decisions. Only one thing became more and more conscious to him. Obi-Wan had not only been his master. He had been both the father he was never allowed to have and the brother who always supported him. And Anakin had never wanted to understand this. That Obi-Wan had always given, without taking even once. That behind the Jedi Master's stoic facade was also just a man looking for a place to call home.

Anakin had been Obi-Wan's home. And all he had done was destroy that.

In retrospect, Anakin should have seen his mistakes much earlier. His master had always been a quiet man, but even so, Obi-Wan seemed to grow ever more silent. His smile never reached his eyes anymore. He seemed to care less about himself.

Anakin had blamed all of this on the war.

It had always been because of the war.

Hadn't it?

Despite all the years they had spent together, he now felt he hardly knew the person who was so important to him.

Listening had never been my strong point.

He was jolted out of his thoughts when the door to the medbay swung open and Sadie returned, wearing a somber expression.

"Doc?" he called even though his words could barely be heard.

It was still enough to get the doctor's attention. After stowing the medkit again, she finally came over to his bed, gripping the clipboard at the foot of his bed.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, looking at his data, "Any pain?"

"Is' f'ne," he nasalized, blinking as his eyes began to water a little, "Did y'u find h'm?"

Sadie sighed and pursed her lips. "I think it's better if you don't know."

Anakin screwed up his face, confused. "Why?"

The raven-haired woman glared up at him with her ice-blue eyes. "You have a visitor, Anakin. The less you know, the safer it is for all of us."

Still he couldn't quite follow what must have shown on his face.

"The Chancellor is here," Sadie finally provided, jotting something down on the clipboard and then putting it away again, "He insists on talking to you, even though I've pointed out to him that you're not fit enough yet."

A sinking feeling spread through him. He still couldn't quite remember what had happened in the courtroom after the chancellor had intercepted him earlier. The outcome of the proceedings spoke for itself.

"Now?" he asked.

The doctor shook her head. "I was able to convince him that you needed at least one more bacta treatment so you could at least speak somewhat. That will take about two hours."

"The ch'ncellor agre'd to wait dat long?"

Sadie hummed. "You seem worth it."

He didn't like that.

Detached, he watched as Sadie prepared the bacta and finally began to apply it to his face. Until now, he had never felt uncomfortable in the Chancellor's presence - no, he had even trusted him.

But now? Obi-Wan's words echoed in his mind. Why had he always confided in Palpatine before his own mentor - his best friend? It didn't make sense.

Was it the Chancellor's words that made him think he was always right? Was it them that had sown the doubts in his mind? That had made him push Obi-Wan away?

"Okay," the doctor finally spoke, removing her gloves, "Maybe you should get some more rest while you have the chance. The chancellor is an impatient man."

"Y'u d'nt sound like `im a lot," Anakin stated, eyeing her from his place on the cot.

Sighing, Sadie brushed a strand of hair from her face. "I won't say anything about that...the walls have ears here."

He then let his eyes wander around the room. Sure enough, he spotted two cameras in the corners. "I see."

"Rest," was the only thing Sadie told him before she finally turned away and disappeared into one of the adjacent rooms.

Anakin let his head sink into the pillow and stared at the ceiling. He missed Padme. His mother. Ahsoka. Obi-Wan, of course. But did he even have the right to call himself part of this family anymore? After all he had done?

So absorbed in his twisted reality, he hadn't even understood what he had done. He didn't know what to do.

Who else was going to believe him? Where normally the bonds with Ahsoka and Obi-Wan filled their spots, there was now an oppressive emptiness. He had always hated to be alone. And yet he had always held Obi-Wan at arms length. Like a stranger whom he could not trust.

But why?

The question bored into his mind as he finally let his eyes fall shut and he succombed to a restless sleep.

"Skywalker." A familiar voice snapped him out of his slumber.

"Rex?" he groaned a little dazedly before his mind caught up to him. Logically, his captain wasn't here. Just one of the prison guards.

He squinted into the clone's black visor, now on alert.

"Stand up, please," the man continued in a neutral voice, already holding a set of binders in one hand.

His eyes never leaving the guard, Anakin slowly straightened and planted his feet on the ground. With one hand he carefully ran it over his face, noting that indeed the swelling had gone down.

"Come on," the clone ordered again, now looking a little impatient.

"Sorry," Anakin replied shortly, finally standing up after hastily stepping into his shoes.

"Hands out."

Again he did as instructed, watching as the bindings closed first around his wrists and then another pair around his ankles.

The guard stepped back and waved him forward. "Any funny business and you'll regret it," he murmured as Anakin passed.

He acknowledged the threat with a blunt nod and continued shuffling forward, the binders whirring softly. "The Chancellor is waiting for me, am I right?" he finally asked as they strode through the long, gray corridors.

"Yes, has been trying to get a meeting with you for days."

Interesting... and kind of disturbing.

Anakin shoved his worries back into the back of his mind. He needed a clear head now.

Finally they reached their destination, but not as he had expected, they stepped into the visitor's center, but into an interrogation room. He swallowed around the lump in his throat. Dozens of times he had sat at this metal table - but never as a prisoner.

Chancellor Palpatine sat at the end of the table, a smile on his face as he caught sight of them.

"Ah, Anakin, my boy," he said as he stood up and walked over to them, "I was beginning to think I wouldn't see you again."

His blue eyes wandered to the binders. "Are they really necessary?" he asked the guard, obviously outraged.

"They are protocol, sir," the clone replied stiffly, straightening further.

Palpatine hummed and something flickered in his eyes as he fixed the other man. "Perhaps you could make an exception," he suggested, his voice sweet.

As the Chancellor spoke, Anakin suddenly felt a little woozy and the world began to spin, but as quickly as the moment had appeared, it disappeared.

What was that?

"...Very well, sir," the guard agreed in surprise, and began to undo his bonds almost mechanically.

"You may leave us," Palpatine continued, his eyes still trained on his target.

For a moment, the clone froze and it seemed like he was trying to say something, but Anakin again couldn't follow as the pressure rebuilt in his mind. Blinking, he bit back a groan.

Through the ringing in his ears he only half heard the guard again oddly agree and leave the room, closing the door behind him.

"Anakin, are you alright?" the Chancellor's concerned face appeared in his field of vision as the oppressive feeling subsided again and Anakin gratefully gasped.

"...I'm fine," he pressed out, still struggling a little not to vomit.

A hand hooked under his shoulder. "Maybe you should sit down," Palpatine offered sympathetically, leading him to the chair in front of the table, where Anakin immediately settled down with relief.

"Kenobi beat you up pretty bad," stated the Chancellor, looking anxiously at the bruises and his swollen nose.

"It wasn't Obi-Wan's fault," Anakin countered defensively, not really wanting to talk about it.

Palpatine huffed in disbelief. "Not his fault? My boy, did you see your face? I don't think his fists hit that often by accident."

He hit because I pushed him too far.

Anakin pursed his lips and chose to remain silent.

"You can talk to me, my dear."

There was something in Palpatine's eyes that Anakin couldn't place and he didn't like it. Something leering - something evil. The roaring in his head made itself present again.

Leaning back, he tried to gain distance. "I don't mean to be rude, but why are you here, your highness?"

Palpatine stood up and folded his hands in the sleeves of his robe. "I am here because I care, Anakin. To hear that it took only a few days here to awaken the beast in Kenobi."

Anger flared inside him. How could he speak of Obi-Wan in such a way?

"Obi-Wan is innocent," he bit out, then added in a whisper, "...we both know that."

A sickening chuckle pierced the silence. "You're disillusioned. Where was your master when you needed him?"

The pressing in his head turned into a painful hammering that made it hard for him to think. "He was by my side... as always," he panted.

"But don't you see where he's gotten you?" pressed Palpatine further, "You should let him go, my boy. He's no good for you."

Anakin shook his head in an attempt to clear the veil in his mind and jumped up from his seat. "No... he's like a father to me... I just realized too late that he always had my best interests at heart."

Something like a scowl flitted across the chancellor's face before it was replaced by a neutral expression. "You don't understand who could really help you...."

He'd had enough. Hastily, he stepped backward toward the door and pounded on it with one fist. "Guard!" he shouted.

Immediately the door was opened and the clone from before stepped in, blaster at the ready. "What's going on here?"

"Take me back...please," Anakin begged, holding his head.

Fortunately, the guard didn't hesitate long and led him out of the room. Away from Palpatine. Anakin barely caught on as they walked through the corridors and the clone spoke into his commlink until they arrived back at the infirmary and Sadie came running towards them.

"My gosh, what happened?" she asked, supporting Anakin and leading him to his bed.

He couldn't answer. Instead, his stomach finally got the better of him and he vomited on the spot, coughing and hacking.

The doctor cursed and produced a bucket from somewhere, which she shoved at him.

When it was finally over, she handed him a cloth.

"Thank you," Anakin murmured, wiping his mouth. The pressure in his head had faded back into nothingness.

"What was going on?" asked Sadie again.

"I don't know...I suddenly got a terrible headache," he explained.

"A migraine?" the doctor suggested.

"No," Anakin shook his head, "...it was nothing like that. It was...it was like something was trying to get into my head."

Sadie stared back at him as she began to understand.

"Doc, there's something wrong here," he continued again.

Her eyes flashed. "What can I do?"

Anakin licked his lips and his fingers clawed at the bed sheet.

"Get Obi-Wan out of here..... I think he is after him now."

Chapter Text

Chapter 20

Stewjon was magnificent. Ahsoka let her gaze wander over the sea of trees, watching flocks of birds disappear again and again under the seemingly endless canopy. A small river broke through the greenery, rippling softly.

It was hard to imagine that there were places that rivaled Alderaan or even Naboo in beauty.

"Ahsoka, are you coming?"

The Padawan snapped back to the present and turned to Shmi, who was waiting patiently for her.

"Of course," she replied quickly, a little embarrassed that she had allowed herself to be so distracted, "...I'm sorry."

Shmi laughed softly. "Don't worry," she placated, turning her gaze skyward, "It's breathtaking, isn't it?"

She nodded, swallowing hard. "... It's so quiet."

Anakin's mother put a hand on her shoulder. "Come, let me show you the farm."

Together, they made the short walk from their ship and it wasn't long before Ahsoka caught sight of the large barn. "Wow," she breathed as she spied the many animals grazing peacefully in the surrounding pastures.

A little behind the barn was the house, looking much older than the barn.

The fire, right.

As they walked, Ahsoka wondered if her Grandmaster had planned to return here. Maybe when the war was over - or things had just been different.

"Anakin and Obi-Wan helped us restore the barn," Shmi said as they walked past the building, "But I think it pained him - being here."

"He never told us about his parents," Ahsoka murmured thoughtfully, "...do you think it hurt him - seeing Anakin with you, I mean?"

Shmi stopped. "I think he was happy for him... but he carries a deep-seated pain inside, easy to miss if you don't look closely. He is clinging to the little pieces of joy in an attempt to conceal his sadness."

"He doesn't deserve to have to be sad." No one did.

Dusk had already set in when they entered the house. In the kitchen they met Cliegg, who was preparing dinner.

"You're back," he smiled, setting aside the spoon he had been stirring the stew with and hugging his wife.

Shmi returned the hug and finally stepped back, resting a hand on Ahsoka's shoulder. "We have a visitor," she said, "This is Ahsoka - Anakin's student."

"Nice to meet you," Cliegg greeted with a smile.

Ahsoka bowed shortly. "Thank you for letting me stay."

"Of course, my dear," Shmi replied and stepped further into the kitchen, "Now let's eat something first, the flight was long."

Together they set the table and Cliegg finally served the prepared stew. It smelled wonderful and the longer Ahsoka stared at the full plate, she realized how hungry she actually was.

"The farm is bigger than I expected," she finally said between bites, letting her gaze wander between Cliegg and Shmi.

Cliegg chuckled and took another spoonful from his plate before replying. "Indeed it is. But a lot of the people here on Stewjon are poor; farming is the only lucrative business out here that helps you make ends meet."

"I see," Ahsoka glanced out the window toward the pastures, "But isn't that way too much work for two people?"

"Well, you certainly have to dedicate yourself to this work," Shmi replied, "But it's nothing unmanageable. Besides, Master Kenobi's parents did it too."

A frown drew on her face as a question presented itself. "Isn't it strange that they decided to give their only child away? ...Just because of the promise to become something greater?"

Anakin's mother tilted her head, a questioning look on her face. "As you know, I too entrusted my son to the Jedi."

"I know... but your situation was different, wasn't it?", Ahsoka turned her gaze back to the pair before her, "It seems to me that Master Kenobi would have been safe here... that he could have grown up here with his parents."

"That may be, but it would also have meant that his path as a farmer would likely have been predetermined. The Jedi could offer him more options."

"Yes, but is being a farmer something bad?" she bit her lip and looked out the window again, "...it seems peaceful."

"It bothers you that you don’t know why your parents turned you in, doesn't it?", Cliegg finally interjected, wearing a look full of sympathy.

Ahsoka put down the sppon. "Yes," she admitted quietly.

"I don't think they had bad intentions, dear," Shmi said.

"And why didn't they leave a name then?", Ahsoka bit out, harsher then intended. After she realised what she had done she quickly added, "Sorry."

Before either could answer, she sparach again. "Is it okay if I go rest? ... I'm tired."

Her eyes softening, Shmi stood up. "Of course. Come, follow me, I'll show you your room."

Silently they walked down the hall until they stopped in front of one of the doors. "Here," motioned Anakin's mother, "As far as I know, this was his room at the time...he said we were free to make changes, but we left it mostly as is."

Anakin nodded curtly. "Okay."

"Are you going to be okay?" asked Shmi again, "Or do you need something?"

"No, I'm fine," Ahsoka returned, "Thank you."

"Sleep well then," Shmi said goodbye, leaving her in the hallway.

Sighing, Ahsoka finally entered her room.

It was small, but had everything one needed. The light of the rising moon fell in through the window, enveloping the desk in grayish light. Ahsoka stepped closer as something caught her attention. On the table was a leather case of some sort, held together by a string, and a block of wood that someone had obviously tried to carve something out of.

It felt like the object was whispering, like it was trying to tell her its story. Intrigued, Ahsoka took the wood in her hand. It looked very much like the fox she had found in her grandmaster's room, except that only the rough outline of an animal was visible. A wolf, perhaps?

Ahsoka sat down on the bed with the unfinished figure, running her fingers over it. It still called to her, somehow. She didn't have the ability of psychometry, but she knew it was possible to receive memories that way, if the impression on the object was strong enough.

And this one was singing.

Ahsoka closed her eyes and reached out with the Force. There was a white flash and she became part of a memory.

Obi-Wan sat at the desk, holding the block of wood in one hand and the carving knife in the other. He roughly chopped away the pieces, a grim expression on his face.

He didn't seem really happy.

A knock sounded at the door, causing their grandmaster to pause. "Yes?" he called, half turning around.

A man with gray hair and a beard - unmistakably Obi-Wan's father - poked his head in. "Can I come in?" he asked gently.

"Sure," Obi-Wan replied, nodding toward the bed.

His father entered the room and quietly closed the door before settling on the bed. "You're trying your hand at carving again?" he noted with a smile.

Obi-Wan hummed and frowned. "Yes, I guess...," he set the utensils aside and slumped his shoulders, "...it seems I haven't inherited your talent, though."

The other man huffed and grabbed the piece of wood. "Don't always be so harsh on yourself," he turned it between his fingers, "With a little practice, you'll soon be carving figures at least as good."

Grumbling, Obi-Wan took back the project he had started, looked at it briefly, then discarded it on the table.

His father tilted his head and looked at him worriedly. "Are you alright? ... You seemed distracted during dinner."

Obi-Wan averted his eyes, biting his cheeks. "I'm fine."

"You don't have to lie to me, Obi-Wan...," his father sounded sad, "There's no shame in admitting you're struggling with something."

There was a beat of silence before her grandmaster spoke.

"I'm worried about Anakin."

"Your apprentice?"

Obi-Wan nodded curtly, frowning. "I feel like I'm doing everything wrong... every time - every time I take a step forward, it seems like he takes at least two steps back."

He looked at his father, his eyes shining with unshed tears. "... Am I such a bad person?"

Ahsoka choked on her breath.

The older man motioned for him to sit next to him on the bed. Hesitating briefly, Obi-Wan finally got up from his seat and shuffled over, taking the spot next to his father.

"You're not a bad person, son," his father finally said, "...and I don't think Anakin realizes what he's doing."

Obi-Wan huffed and rubbed a hand across his face.

"Force, I love that kid, ...but I think he still tries to find Qui-Gon in me and...," he chokes, "...and then he gets disappointed everytime he realizes that I am not that man."

"You don't need to be that man," responded the other sincerely.

"Well, he certainly doesn't want me," Obi-Wan grinds out, getting a distant look again. "...I can't go on any longer," he added after a moment of hesitation.

It felt wrong seeing her grandmaster like that. He was always a steadying presence - strong and unstoppable.

"Have you talked to anyone at the temple about this?" his father asked, "...someone you trust?"

Obi-Wan shook his head. "I can't... if they get wind that I'm having trouble with the boy, they'll take him away from me... and Force knows where they'll send him then. After all, I only got permission to train him because I agreed to take complete responsibility for him."

"You're running yourself ragged, Obi-Wan," came the counter, "You need help. For both of your sakes."

Running a hand through his hair, Obi-Wan finally propped his head on his hands. "I know," he breathed.

"Maybe give Anakin some distance, show him that's you when he needs you, but without pushing," the older Kenobi suggested, "And you should find someone you like to talk to, maybe not a Jedi. Keeping worries to yourself never did anyone any good."

Obi-Wan pressed his lips into a thin line and smiled sadly. "Yes...thank you, dad."

The memory faded with this and Ahsoka found herself back in the present, sitting on the bed with the unfinished figurine in her hands. It now felt heavy in her fingers, having seen the memory it held.

Gingerly she put it back on the table. Had her grandmaster really spoken to someone?

The longer she thought about it, she could think of only two people outside the Order in whom he might have confided.

Satine... and maybe Dex.

Ahsoka sighed and lay down on the bed, staring at the wooden ceiling. It was strange to be so far from home - at least without Anakin or Obi-Wan by her side.

All of this felt wrong. She should be able to help - but instead she had fled, closing herself off from her problems.

Her stomach tightened and she curled up on her side, clutching her arms around her upper body.

Chapter Text

Chapter 21

Time had turned into a meaningless construct. Obi-Wan felt trapped in his own mind. The silence, the darkness - they began to bite into his flesh, steadily tearing out small pieces.

Sleep he could not - and would not. Not with her waiting for him. The thought alone felt wrong. That Satine, the angel he had loved all these years and still did, was becoming the very demon who wouldn't even let him have his peace in his sleep.

Obi-Wan coughed wetly, wincing as the movement caused the twinge in his back to flare up again. His feet were still a little numb, and somehow the whole thing made him feel uneasy.

It's just the cold. At least that's what he tried to tell himself.

He didn't dare sit up to maybe warm his cold limbs a little, remembering the doctor's words. Force, he was more than tired and his body was crying out for rest he could not give it.

Another cough pushed its way out of his chest and Obi-Wan finally forced himself to roll onto his side, hoping to get a little air into his lungs. It did relieve a little of the pressure - but now his back burned. Obi-Wan bit back a groan, regretting his choice. But there was no return now - he simply lacked the strength.

With his bound hands he groped for the collar around his neck, restlessly tugging at it. Sadie had been right.  There was no seam, no lock. It could only be broken by violently cutting it through.

Defeated, he lowered his hands again, for a moment just focusing on breathing.

A sound made him sit up and take notice. Footsteps - three pairs if he had to guess - moved along the corridor outside, until they finally stopped in front of his cell. Obi-Wan stilled, waiting like a predator for is prey.

Only that I am the hunted one.

With a click, the cell door opened and the three people briskly rushed in. A few moments passed and hands were on his arms, yanking him up mercilessly.

Obi-Wan screamed involuntarily as his hip twisted painfully - and just reacted. Gathering the strength he had left, he rammed his elbow into the person behind him, snarling with satisfaction as it actually made contact. A pained yelp was heard and set of hands came loose.

"Hey!", one of them yelled at him angrily, taking a hand from his upper arm to obviously reach for something. The now familiar whistle of a baton sounded, but this time Obi-Wan was miraculously faster. Ignoring the pain he was in, he twisted underneath the remaining hands and managed to loop the band connecting the manacles on his hands around the offending arm. Throwing his weight into the movement he tore the man from his feet, the baton clattering to the metallic floor not a second later.

The third man apparently learned from the mistakes of his comrades and backed away from Obi-Wan. For a moment, silence fell on the room, broken only by the occasional groan of the downed guards and his breathing. Obi-Wan strained his ears, hoping to locate his counterpart.

Apparently his luck had run out. The next sound he heard was the click of a blaster. His sluggish brain took too long this time to process that he should move.

The shot went off.

The thing about blaster bolts was that, unlike real projectiles, they melted into their target, be it metal, cloth - or flesh. It tore through his left ankle like it was nothing. Obi-Wan went down hard, slamming into the unforgiving floor chest first as his leg was swept from underneath him. The remaining air in his lungs turned into a scream, now pushing out of his chest as everything below his hip flared sharply - only to suddenly go completely numb. Panic rippled through him and he was about to move his still-bound hands to his suddenly unresponsive limbs when another click sounded and the hot muzzle of the blaster pressed between his eyes.

"Stop moving," the guard growled, his voice freezing the blood in Obi-Wan's veins.

Still choking on his breath, he raised his head a little and squared his jaw. "Come on...kill me," he forced out.

Huffing, the man pressed the gun harder against his head. "Love to," he breathed menacingly, so close that Obi-Wan could feel his breath, "Too bad I have other orders."

Before he could counter anything, the guard barked at her colleagues to get the hell up. Sure enough, they seemed to get up, and shortly thereafter Obi-Wan was hoisted up again, hanging limply between them. His legs felt like thousands of pins and needles were picking at his skin.

Maybe that's a good sign, he mused, At least it's not no sensation.

The muzzle of the blaster returned to his forehead. "Now listen to me, Kenobi," growled the guard, "I'm giving you a choice to cooperate - and things could turn out favorably for you. Resist," the man leaned into his space and Obi-Wan could smell his fetid breath again, "-and things could get worse."

A dry laugh escaped his throat and Obi-Wan snapped his head back, the weapon sliding from his forehead. "You know...," he wheezed, "You made one fatal mistake." He turned forward again, his milky eyes probably now right in front of the man's. "... I've got nothing to lose."

The logical part inside him screamed at him that this was a stupid idea. The irrational part - well - that one didn't care anymore.

With that, he jerked his head back - and shortly thereafter headbutted the man in front of him, their heads smacking together with a resounding crack. Blood filled Obi-Wan's mouth but that didn't keep him from grinning maniacally as he listened to the guard's pained noises.

His grin still didn't vanish as a fist collided with his face in return, snapping his head to the side. Spitting out a glob of blood, he rose his head again.  "Is that all you got?" he challenged.

"Wait it out, you...," the guard angrily continued, before the beeping of his commlink interrupted him.

The man stepped back, suddenly silent, and left the cell moments later. Obi-Wan strained his ears but couldn't hear what was being said.

Anyway, it wasn't long before the cell door opened again. "Come on," the guard ordered coolly, "Bring him up."

Without further fanfare, they started moving, Obi-Wan hanging between them like a dead-weight. No one spoke.

For all the courage and sass he had just had, he now suddenly felt very different. He did not know where they were taking him - and who was waiting for him. He forced himself to calm down and even out his breathing.

He coughed again, slumping briefly in the grip of the two guards.

They didn't care. The men only strengthened their grip on his arms and hoisted him forward.

When they finally arrived at their destination they unceremoniously yanked his arms up and fastened his shackles to something above his head. As soon as they released him, his legs gave way, and with a thud, his entire weight hung from his wrists and shoulders. Obi-Wan stiffled a groan as he felt his shoulder joints strain and the metallic rims of the cuffs cut into his hands.

They simply left him like that.

Like a piece of meat that had been hung on a hook.

He lacked the strength to pull his legs back under him. Not to mention that everything down there still didn't feel right. The pain was everywhere, Obi-Wan couldn't even pinpoint which part of him wasn't hurting.

The chain they hung him from clanked as he slowly swung back and forth.

Is this the end?

Obi-Wan knew no one would come for him.

Why should they? He had nothing left to give. He was useless now.

But to die like this, he couldn't come to terms with that - he didn't want to.

He squeezed his eyes shut as tears welled up inside him.

"Don't you think that's unbecoming for a great Jedi Master?" a cynical voice suddenly asked right next to him, making him jerk in his restraints.

He was obviously not alone. But without the Force and his eyes - he was nothing.

 And worse, he knew that voice.

"What do you want?" he rasped, trying to keep his voice steady.

A dark chuckle was heard. "I wanted to see how you were doing, Master Kenobi."

"Why string me up like that then? You could have at least brought a cup of tea." His attempt at humor fell flat. The air was thick with something unpredicable. Obi-Wan was at his mercy, trapped like a fly underneath a glass.

"I heard you were uncooperative," came the reply, and he heard the man move behind him, "..I won't have that kind of behavior," he whispered in his ear.

Run!, his mind screamed.

Obi-Wan tried to jerk away, to no avail.

"What. Do. You. Want," he asked again.

"Guess, my dear."

There was only one thing that man is interested in. For too long he had turned a blind eye to that - and now it was too late.

"Anakin," he stated solemnly.

"Good," his Tormentor commented, "I see your mind hasn't left you yet."

Obi-Wan licked his chapped and bloodied lips. "If it's him you want...then why am I here?"

"Because it is you who stand in my way."

Snorting, Obi-Wan shook his head. "Haven't been doing a lot of standing lately," he retorted dryly.

Something grabbed him by his throat, lifting him up.

Obi-Wan's eyes went wide, panic getting the better of him. He flopped uselessly in the air, struggling for breath.

The Force. He was using the Force.

"You think this is funny, Kenobi?" snarled the other, finally letting go of him.

He fell back harshly, his wrists again catching on the rough metal.

"The boy still clings to you like a child to is mother," the man continued, "Even after all that has happened...all I want is for you to show him that you mean nothing to him."

Obi-Wan swallowed thickly. "...No."

A moment of silence passed.

"No?" he sounded surprised. Footsteps sounded and Obi-Wan felt a breath on the back of his neck. "He took everything from you. Your home. Your family. Your seight. And you still dare to say no?"

Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath before answering. "I have protected Anakin since he was entrusted to me. He may have strayed from the right path," he opened his eyes again, "But it certainly won't be me who pushes him into the deep."

"Bold words for someone in your position, don't you think? You're just going to leave your boy alone - thinking he can save himself?"

"Anakin is not alone."

A dark laugh broke the silence. "Yes, but what he needs is you. And if you don't give him up willingly, then I'll have to remove you by force."

A shiver ran down his spine. "So you're going to kill me now?"

Cold and gnarled fingers caressed through his hair. "Oh no, Obi-Wan," purred the chancellor, letting his hand rest behind his ear, "You don't know how many people are interested in someone like you. A Jedi - even one as pathetic as you - science can learn a lot even from you."

Take it away. Take it away. Take it away!

Obi-Wan's heart thumped in his chest. Palpatine must have noticed his uneasiness and laughed. "You know," he lulled almost sweetly, "things could have been so simple had you decided to give me what I want. But no," he paused and suddenly grabbed his hair, yanking his head back, , „… But instead you decide to suffer.“

He finally stepped out of his space again and Obi-Wan let his head fall against his chest.

„Prepare him for transport.“

Chapter Text

Chapter 22

"... Breaking News: Jedi General Obi-Wan Kenobi, who was previously sentenced to several years in prison, escaped from prison tonight. Previously, he had already become conspicuous by aggressive behavior towards the guards..."

Padme put aside the datapad she had been working on earlier and stared in disbelief at the large screen that showed the news.

A blurry camera shot was visible. It was the video from the prison that Master Koon had already shown her as well. Obi-Wan was fighting - or rather defending himself - with the guards. The video stopped before one could see how the guards had beaten up the Jedi shortly after.

"...It seems this man is but a shadow of his former self," the reporter continued speaking in a voice that barely hid her disgust, "Dear citizens of Coruscant, watch yourselves! If you see this man, inform the authorities immediately and get to safety! Hey. Is. Dangerous!"

Clenching her fists, Padme eyed the image of Obi-Wan which was then shown. It was not a favorable photo. The Jedi looked grimly with bloodshot eyes in the direction of the camera, as far as one could call it like that, since he had not been able to see it at all. There were bruises on his head, standing out harshly against the red of his scar.  He looked sick. His hair was disheveled and his skin was pale as a sheet, covered with a thin layer of sweat.

All of this reeked of a massive lie. The media branded him like a criminal - a lunatic.

She had to find out what had happened.

Padme grabbed her robe and made her way to the prison. The imposing complex was brightly lit with spotlights even at this late hour and one could already suspect that the entire guard was on heightened alert. Many patrols crossed her path and in the distance she could spot several ships with searchlights.

They really try everything to cover up the truth. She was firmly convinced of that.

Quickly she approached the entrance gate, where a group of soldiers was already waiting for her.

One of the men stopped her before she could even approach. "Stop right there!" he ordered firmly.

Padme took a step back and gently raised her hands. "Alright, no need to overreact," she said softly, "I'm here because I want to visit someone."

The soldier eyed her through the black visor of his helmet, before visibly relaxing. "I'm sorry, Senator Amidala. But at the moment we are not allowed to allow anyone into the prison...I think you were able to follow up on the jailbreak thing."

She tapped her head curtly in response. "Of course, I understand," she said, "But calls are still possible?"

 „Of course, senator.“

„Thank you.“ With that she quickly withdrew, making her way back to her apartment. Padme already knew who she needed to talk to.

She sat down on the couch and set up her commlink for her upcoming call. When she was ready she sat back for a second and took a deep breath. She hadn’t forgiven Anakin for what he had done – and she was still angry. But she had no space for anger now. She needed to focus on the task at hand.

Anakin would need to call her. But somehow she had the suspicion that he might already be working on that. Force-related stuff she never understood completely.

Indeed the commlink started beeping after a second. Hesitantly she activated the device.

„Hello?“, she asked tentatively.

There was a moment of silence before she got an answer.

„Padme… ehm, it’s me, Anakin.“

She hesitated shortly.  „… Hello, Anakin.“

Anakin shifted on the other end of the line. „I… I know that you are still angry at me…,“ he stopped and she waited patiently, „Force, I will never be able to forgive myself either… and I won’t even try to beg for your forgiveness… I don’t deserve that…“

Padme heard enough. „Quit with your self-loathing, Anakin,“ she said harshly, „I know why you are calling, so tell me what you know.“

He seemed to be taken aback by her words. „“I… o- okay,“ Padme couldn’t remember every hearing her husband stutter, „I'm worried about Obi-Wan…“

He continued with a whisper. „… I don’t exactly know what happened but whatever they are showing in the news is not correct,“ he searched for words since he probably couldn’t speak openly, „He was there, Padme… and he was threatening first me and then assumably Obi-Wan.“

It didn’t take her long to understand who he meant. „Who can I trust?“

„Don’t ask anyone of us. I think he has eyes and ears everywhere.“

Anakin was talking cryptically but she still managed to keep track of what he was trying to tell her. „Okay…,“ she breathed, „I see what I can do.“

„Thank you,“ replied Anakin, „… I trust you.“

Before she could say more, the line disconnected. Padme was left with her stomach churning and an overall uneasy feeling.

The chancellor. Somehow she had always known that the man was dangerous but hearing it now from Anakin – it made her afraid. Even though he had tried to hide it, she heard the terror in his voice.

He asked her not to involve the jedi. Who should she then turn to?

Padme dropped her head into her hands and raked her fingers through her hair. There weren't many people outside the Order that Anakin – and especially Obi-Wan- knew very well and trusted.

First she thought about asking Bail for help but he was too close to politics – too close to Palpatine.

So who else would be willing to go these lengths for Obi-Wan?

Only one person came to her mind. Padme didn’t knew him personally but she heard enough stories to be sure that he had his heart in the right place. And more importantly – he was a dear friend of Obi-Wan’s.

Padme quickly changed into some civilian clothes and ordered 3PO to cover for her absence. Night fell slowly over Coruscant and shrouded the skyscrapers in a dim light. She pulled the hood of her robe deeper into her face and mingled with the crowds. Obi-Wan's face was visible on many of the display panels, along with the horrendous announcement. Padme felt the need to destroy every one of those screens.

The further she descended into the lower levels, the more oppressive the atmosphere became. The only light down here came from the large neon signs and the lights that shone out of the stores.  Figures loitered at every corner, some keenly observing the people passing by, others completely preoccupied with themselves.

Forcing herself to move on, she soon spied her destination. The restaurant was located on a comparatively spacious square and shone out to her in bright colors. Inside the restaurant there was still a bustle of activity when Padme entered.

A blonde waitress and a droid were busy trying to keep up with all the orders.

Padme took a seat at the edge of the bar, almost in the corner of the diner, and waited. She continued to keep the hood on her head to remain undetected.

It didn't take long for the waitress to step up to her. "Hi, what can I get you?" she asked a little stressed, playing with the stylus of her datapad.

"I'd like to talk to your boss."

Her expression soured. „Do you want to complain? You can tell me what you have to say.“

Padme sighed. „No, I don’t want to complain. I have a personal matter, which is why I need to speak with him urgently."

She became no less suspicious. "And who are you if I may ask, darling?"

Turning her head so that the waitress could see her face, she looked resolutely at the woman. "I think you might recognize my face."

The blonde took a step back. "Senator...?" she caught herself in time and whispered, aghast, "...I- what are you doing here?"

Padme closed her eyes for a moment, then finally looked towards the kitchen. "Like I said... I need to talk to your boss. Please, it is really urgent."

Finally relenting, the woman disappeared into the kitchen. A moment later, a huge Besalisk stepped behind the bar, wiping one set of hands on his apron. He let his eyes wander over his guests, before he stopped when he found her. With heavy steps he came over.

Bracing himself with his arms, he leaned over the counter. "I hear you're looking for me," he murmured.

Smart man. He knows better than to use my name.

"I'm here because I am concerned for a mutual friend," she supplied calmly, eyeing him from underneath the hood of her robe.

Dex held her gaze with equal steadiness. "Maybe we should continue this conversation in a more private place, then."

With that, he straightened up again and opened part of the counter so Padme could step behind it. It was surprising that none of the guests cared.

Padme followed Dex into the kitchen, where he stopped. "The diner closes in about an hour," he explained, "Then we can talk. If you like, you can wait upstairs in my apartment until then."

He gestured toward a staircase at the far end of the kitchen. "Thank you," she breathed with a nod and quickly climbed the stairs. The apartment she found looked quite cozy - at least for a man like Dex. Padme sat down on the couch, noticing the blanket and pillow lying on the side. It looked like he must have had a visitor.

The large window gave her a good view of Coruscant's nighttime activity - and not for the first time, she wondered if she could have prevented some things.

Padme rubbed her temples with her hands as a headache began to make itself known. She didn't even have an idea what she should actually ask Dex.

It wasn't like he could just leave his restaurant to go on a wild bantha chase with her.

Lost in thought, she didn't notice as time passed and Dex entered the apartment.

"I have an idea why you're here, Senator," he crossed his arms and leaned against the kitchen counter, "But I want to hear it from you."

Exhaling, Padme collected herself. "It's Obi-Wan," she finally said, "I think you heard what happened last ... and I know that what they told you on the news is not the truth."

Dex scratched his chin and stepped over to the sofa. "Thought as much," he muttered, "But that still doesn't explain why you're here."

"I know that someone probably took Obi-Wan, and that the Chancellor is involved in some way in this whole story," she paused and looked him in the eye, "And I need your help to find Obi-Wan."

"That's what I thought," he grumbled, taking a seat across from her, "Lately, many of Obi-Wan's friends have requested my help...just not him."

He looked genuinely concerned. "I've been worried about him for a long time, he is - he is not himself anymore."

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"What I mean is," he paused, "That Obi-Wan shouldn't have to drown his worries with some cheap alcohol because he was so damn afraid to talk with anyone about them."

He fixed her gaze. "Do you know how many times I picked him up from some shady bar? How close he was to losing himself?"

Padme swallowed thickly. "I didn't know."

Dex huffed. "... I guess no one saw what your husband was doing to the people around him."

She squared her jaw. "It was not within my control what Anakin did," she ground out, "... I tried talking to him, but... his anger was unpredictable."

His amber eyes analyzed her for a moment more, before he evidently found what he was looking for. "So you want me to drop everything and go on a probably life-threatening mission with you?" he asked.

Padme was not deterred. "Yes," she replied confidently, "If we don't help Obi-Wan - no one will...he will die."

Dex stood up and stepped to the large window, arms folded behind his back. "You know-," he began, "you didn't even have to convince me."

He turned back to her. "My answer would never have been no."

Chapter Text

Chapter 23

When Obi-Wan regained consciousness - he felt strange. His head felt like it was wrapped in  cotton and in general he felt detached from his own body.

Groaning, he tried to turn his head a little to relieve his aching neck - only to find that something was holding him down. Now on high alert, he tried to move his arms, but immediately met resistance there as well.

He couldn't move an inch.

Obi-Wan stared into the black, trying to calm himself. What else had Palpatine said? He was still useful for science?

Nothing of that bode anything good. He focused again on his own body. He had been laid on his side, legs slightly bent and  arms stretched out, presumably fixed to the edge of the bed on which he lay. The pain - it was mostly gone. His leg still burned a little where the blaster shot had hit him, but it was no longer the sharp sting of a fresh wound. His hip also felt somewhat normal again as far as he could tell with the drugs that were probably flowing through his veins. The lingering sense of sickness had been replaced with an extreme fatigue which he now constantly fought with.

Now that he concentrated on it, he tasted remnants of Bacta on his tongue.

Why did they heal me?

 „I see subject Thirteen is awake,“ suddenly rumbled a tinny voice, making Obi-Wan flick his eyes in the general direction of the noise.

„What?“, he croaked confused, again straining against his bonds. The typical whirring of a meddroid got louder.

"The patient should not move so that the surgical site is not disturbed."

Obi-Wan's mind was sent reeling. "Surgery site...?" he asked in alarm, "Where am I? What are you talking about?"

"I am not allowed to answer these questions," the droid replied, positioning itself somewhere above him, "It is suggested that the patient calm down. Otherwise, sedation will have to be performed."

His heart was pounding up to his throat. "Okay...," he finally breathed, "I... I am calm."

Fortunately for him, the droid seemed to buy his desperate lie. "What am I doing here?" he dared to ask again.

He heard a device activate, followed shortly by a beeping sound which by now he could attribute to a scanner. "Blaster shot wound sufficiently healed by Bacta, scarring present but not restrictive to patient... pelvis fractures successfully stabilized," the droid rambled, completely ignoring Obi-Wan's question, "... incersion at L2 still healing, continuing immobilization of patient recommended."

L2? Obi-Wan wasn't good with medical terms, but during the war he had picked up enough from the doctors to know that the droid was talking about one of his lumbar vertebrae.

Again, panic rose in him. "... my legs feel numb," he tried, hoping that this time the droid would respond to him.

The droid continued to hover over him, obviously calculating. "Patient claims loss of sensation...proceed with testing."

Before Obi-Wan could react, a sharp needle was unceremoniously plunged into the sole of his foot. He tried to pull his legs away as he cried out in pain but the restraints held him firmly.

"Lie detected... continue with sedation."

"No, no, wait- ," Obi-Wan continued, but the droid again ignored him completely and a moment later he felt the hot burn in the crook of his elbow as the drug made its way into his veins.

His world again turned into nothingness.

When he woke up again, it was to the sensation of someone fiddling with bandages that wrapped around his lower back. Something held his back in an elevated position, assumably another nurse droid.

"Thirteen is awake," droned the computer-generated voice and Obi-Wan inwardly cursed himself for being so transparent.

"Who are the other twelve?" he asked instead, decisively trying to figure something out.

"The subject is required to be silent; they will speak only when asked."

Obi-Wan raised his eyebrows, but did not initially resist the instruction. A moment later, the restraints holding him were released.

"Stand up."

Breathing through his nose, Obi-Wan complied again and sat up carefully, noting the painful twinge in his back. His hand tried to move to his back, but was stopped by a metallic gripper. "Do not touch," the droid ordered leaving no room for negotiation.

Obi-Wan nodded and released his hand, allowing the droid to finally let go. As the metallic fingers fell away, he lowered his hand to the mattress to brace himself. Slowly and deliberately, he then swung his legs over the edge of the bed, feeling the cold floor tiles under his bare soles.

His back acted up even more as he finally stood up and it felt like he met some kind of resistance as he tried to straighten his back. The force-suppressing collar still pressed uncomfortably against his neck, but he resisted the urge to try to pull at it.

He had no idea where he was, what they wanted him to do, or what they had done to him.

Apparently a now normal day in my life.

A shiver traveled done his spine, as the chilly air in the room began to bite at his skin. They had taken most of his clothes, leaving him only in a pair of short-legged pants. And if Obi-Wan had to take a guess - they probably had no intention of giving them back to him.

Obi-Wan stood still for now, carefully listening to what was going on around him.

"Subject Thirteen will be transferred to test chamber 3."

What kind of tests?

A moment later he was thrust forward with the end of a blaster in his back. Calculatedly, he started moving, careful not to trip over his own feet.

The ground beneath his feet was cold, metallic. His footsteps echoed dully off the walls around him. They were probably somewhere underground.

Another jab in his back made him stumble as they suddenly turned sharply left. Obi-Wan snarled, trying to stomp down the frustration that began to settle inside him.

They marched him forward until they suddenly came to a stop and pushed him into a room somewhere to his right. The meddroid began to move past him and began to search for something judging by the metallic scraping noice it made while searching tables and cabinets.

In his mind, Obi-Wan went through the information he had been able to gather so far. He didn't know where he was, but most likely on a planet in an underground facility. In addition, there were probably several subjects being held here. This was some kind of experimental laboratory. They had healed him but didn't give him access to the Force and also implanted something into his spine which he didn't know the purpose of.

I'm not getting out of here like this.

The droid had obviously found what it was looking for and approached him again. "Keep your head still."

Shortly thereafter something was placed over his head, making him notice only now that his hair must have been reduced to nothing more but a buzz cut. The thing the droid hefted to his head had some kind of metal pins so he assumed that these were electrodes.

When the droid finished plucking at the device, it flew back again. "Step forward into the test chamber."

Obi-Wan swallowed and stopped in his tracks. "What kind of test is this?" he asked calmly.

"Step forward into the test chamber," the droid droned again emotionlessly, only this time the barrel of a blaster between his shoulders again tried to convince him to move.

Relenting, Obi-Wan cautiously walked forward and slid his foot over a doorstep.

This room felt even colder and he absently rubbed his arms to regain some warmth.

Behind him the door closed with a hiss, sealing him in for whatever test they had planned for him.

A voicebox activated with a crackling sound. "Fight," was all that a modulated, yet unmistakably feminine voice said before a dead silence settled on the room again.

The hairs on the back of Obi-Wan's neck stood up. Fight against what?

Without the Force, it was almost impossible to tell if he was alone in this room and what he was up against.

He had only his ears to rely on. He bent his knees slightly, getting into a fighting stance.

A sharp whistle to his left had him whirling around just in time to catch the knife that was supposed to bury itself deep into his back. The arm holding it was strong as he wrestled with it. Gritting his teeth, he pushed his attacker back, again getting some distance between them.

"We don't have to do this," he panted, defensively holding one arm in front of him, "... we can work this out."

"There's nothing to work out," a desperate female voice responded. She snorted and huffed a laugh. "They told me they'd let me and my son go as soon as they got enough test results from a Jedi...and the only thing they got is you. A fucking broken, invalid Jedi. An outcast."

She spat out. "We've been waiting so long...," she rasped, "And I'll do anything to make sure they get what they want. You will not stand in my way."

Again she lunged at him and Obi-Wan found himself on the floor moments later as she jumped at him, knife mere centimeters from his face. "You really think they let you go if you help them?" he gritted out while fending off the knife, "They always want more. It's a vicious cycle."

The woman roared and pulled the knife back, only to stab it at him again. This time she got a hit in. The blade sunk into the flash of his forearm and Obi-Wan yanked his arm back on reflex with a pained cry, dislodging the woman from her position with a well-aimed kick to her chest.

The weapon was still stuck in his arm as he got back to his feet and he wasted no time to pull it out. His other hand came away sticky with blood and he already felt how his injured arm began to tremble. He was loosing a lot of blood, fast.

Holding the bloody knife in his left hand while pressing his injured arm to his chest, he again tried to reason with the woman. "I don't want to fight you," he drawled, "And you also don't have to fight me."

"They have my son," she pleaded, "You have no idea what they do here."

Obi-Wan increasingly wondered if he really had the strength to stand up to a desperate mother.

Chapter Text

Chapter 24

Obi-Wan dropped the knife at his feet. "Okay," he breathed, lowering himself to his knees, "Do whatever they told you to do."

He heard her breathing, obviously struggling with her choices. "Why are you doing this?" the mother finally asked, "Throwing your life away like that."

He exhaled through his nose and closed his eyes. "You have something worth fighting for," he smiled shallowly, "A family... - I had to leave what was dear to me behind a long time ago."

"You have no one?" she queried tentatively.

Obi-Wan thought of Anakin, Ahsoka - Satine. "No," he muttered to himself, "no one who should put themselves in danger because of me."

They were interrupted as the door to the test chamber opened. "Subject Ten, please step back," ordered a droid, stepping in front of Obi-Wan with metallic steps. The knife was picked up from the floor.

"What are you doing to him now?" asked Ten anxiously.

"You need not be concerned," a new voice replied gruffly, "Go on, take them away."

Obi-Wan listened silently as more droids entered the chamber and escorted the mother out.

I hope they don't hurt her.

"Kenobi," the newcomer finally spoke, and somehow the voice sounded strangely familiar to Obi-Wan, "I expected more from you - losing to an untrained woman - pathetic."

"I had no intention of fighting," he growled back, clutching his still bleeding arm tighter.

Force, he was beginning to feel dizzy.

She huffed condescendingly. "I bet even one of my droids could have defeated you. Don't you have any self-preservation instincts? I would have expected more from a Jedi Master."

Obi-Wan did not engage in her games. "Who are you and what do you want from me?"

The woman chuckled. "Have you forgotten me already, handsome?" she purred, placing a hand under his chin. He pulled his head away, but instead she gripped his chin in a vice grip, holding his head still.

"It seems you have left no lasting impression on me," he said heavily with the hand gripping his lower jaw.

The fingers gripped even tighter. "Interesting how much you relied on your eyes and connection to the Force," she analyzed, "Without that, you are truly nothing."

She leaned into his space. "Your master would be disappointed in you."

Obi-Wan bit his cheeks and fixed her with his milky eyes. "Tell me something I don't already know," he murmured neutrally.

"Oh, did I hit a sore spot there?" she challenged manically.

Ignoring her taunts, he kept his cool. "How about you tell me your name first."

He could practically hear her scowl.  "I'll give you a hint," she hissed, "You and your master ruined my life - my research."

So slowly, a bad premonition of who he was dealing with crept up on Obi-Wan. "I doubt you've been released from prison."

She laughed. "Look who's talking. You know what they're saying about you? That you broke out. That you're dangerous. You're going to spend the rest of your life on the run."

"If that's how you're trying to get me to be your ally, it's not going to work," he returned, unimpressed.

"You? Ally?" she giggled, "Oh my dear Obi-Wan, your sole purpose for me is to find out more about you Force-sensitives." She stroked the side of his face. "I just want you to realize that there is no future for you out there. Besides, you won't escape me, I promise you that."

He was getting tired. "Are you done talking?" he asked impassively.

„Don’t you dare fall asleep on me,“ she snapped and a second later fingers pressed into his open wound. Obi-Wan screamed and pulled his arm away. „That was unnecessary,“ he gasped, spitting out a glob of blood as he had bit his tongue. Now he indeed was wide awake – a courtesy of the adrenaline now rushing through his veins.

She huffed. „Maybe – but now I have your unwavering attention, I suppose.“

Tell that to my circulation.

"I would be much better at paying attention if there wouldn’t be more blood outside my body than inside."

She traced the scar on his face and then moved to one that crossed his chest. „I think you had worse,“ she breathed enchantingly, letting her hand sit against the base of his neck.

Obi-Wan resisted the urge to pull away. „You still didn’t tell me your name.“

The woman moved her hand to cradle his head again. „Stop pretending,“ she lulled, „I know that you know who I am.“

He squared his jaw. "It would be rude if I guessed and I was wrong, wouldn't it?"

The hand tightened uncomfortably around his ear. „Say my name.“

Obi-Wan held his head up, fixing her with unseeing eyes. „Jenna Zan Arbor.“

„Good,“ she purred before finally letting go of him.

Jenna stood up and moved inside the chamber, presumably towards the door. „Bring him back to his cell,“ she ordered coolly, „And don’t forget to take a sample.“

The clicking noise of her shoes told Obi-Wan that she finally left but that didn’t ease his mind.  A few droids replaced her. One of them grabbed his still bleeding arm, stretching it out. Not a second later the stench of cleaning alcohol filled his nostrils followed by the sharp sting as the liquid was poured on his wound. Obi-Wan hissed and tried to pull away but the droid didn’t let him go. Instead a second droid placed it’s claws on his upper arm and shoulders to keep him in place.

Tense, he tried to listen to what the droid would do next, but couldn't assign the sounds to anything. A sharp sting went through his arm again as the droid began to sew the wound closed. Obi-Wan winced in pain - and was rewarded with another pair of metallic arms holding him still. He tried to breathe through the pain but the exhaustion that had been plaguing him for days now made that almost impossible. Not thinking, he tried to pass the pain on to the Force.

His body immediately went stiff and his brain stopped working as the electric shock cursed through his body.

Stupid. You're stupid, Kenobi.

When the shock finally subsided he noticed that he was lying on the floor, a puddle under his head. He must have fainted.

Groaning, he sat up slowly, gingerly putting a hand to his head. His cheek was wet as well but it didn't smell like blood.

Drool.

Obi-Wan huffed and lowered his hand again. "How undignified," he muttered to himself.  He noticed that his arm was bandaged and that there was also a small tape stuck to the crook of his elbow.

Did they take blood?

He remembered how Arbor had said something about taking a sample and somehow that fact didn't sit well with him.

Slowly he stood up and reached out a hand, carefully sliding one foot in front of the other. Soon his fingertips touched the cold metal of a wall and a further inspection of the room told him that he was in some kind of small cell. Completely empty and maybe just big enough for him to lie stretched out on the floor if he wanted to. The door had neither a lock nor a latch on his side and sank completely into the surrounding wall.

Obi-Wan pressed his lips into a thin line and stepped back before sitting down against one of the walls. The metal was cool against his bare back and he found himself longing for at least a thin blanket.

The Force-suppression collar pressed uncomfortably against his throat and Obi-Wan wondered if it had somehow gotten tighter but a short probing with his fingers that his skin was swollen instead.

Probably burned.

His thoughts circled to the other prisoners. He was number 13 and the mother was number 10. What about the rest? Were there more than 13 people down here?

Exhaustion soon claimed him and he fell asleep slumped against the wall.

"Rise and shine!" Arbor's voice suddenly blared through a pair of speakers after a while, startling Obi-Wan from his unrestful sleep.

He grumbled under his breath and ran a hand over his face. "...Just shut up..."

She cackled. "Not quite awake, my dear?"

Obi-Wan didn't care for an answer and instead closed his eyes again, letting his head rest against the cool metal. He felt exhausted and drained.

Shortly thereafter, his cell door was jerked open, followed by the familiar clack of heeled shoes on the floor. "Don't you think your behavior is rude?" feigned Arbor.

Huffing, Obi-Wan shrugged. "You're not very accommodating either."

He felt her lean down toward him. "You chose to disobey me...," she hissed, now clearly incensed, "...and you cost me three of my droids."

Arbor leaned in closer so that he could feel her breath on his face. "... And I liked these droids."

Obi-Wan swallowed and squared his jaw in response. "This wouldn't have happened if you removed this," he tapped the collar, "I'm sure."

Jenna snorted and pulled back. "You still don't get it, do you? I can't remove it."

Furrowing his brows, he shot her a questioning look which earned him another laugh. „It was built with the intention to never be removed again,“ she explained gleefully, „So no locks – anything. Closed is closed. The only way to remove it is to cut it.“

She again came closer to him and traced the collar with one of her fingers. „Unfortunately, it was made from Beskar, so not even a lightsaber can cut it,“ she chuckled, „You would loose your pretty head before you get rid of the collar.“

Beskar. The chancellor really spared no expense.

Obi-Wan didn't let his concern show and instead fixed her with a neutral expression. "If you want to study the Force, then I am the most inappropriate test subject imaginable."

Her hand trailed up to his cheek and it sent an uncomfortable shiver down his spine. He wanted her to take it away. "You may not be able to use the Force as you please, but the medichlorians," her finger traced a vein on his neck, "They are still flowing through your veins. They still react without you knowing - to joy, fear... anger. It is a question of willpower, my dear. How far will you go to get back what you lost?"

She lightly touched the collar once more before she finally pulled back again. "Stand up."

He stood up, planting his feet steadily on the floor. Her presence didn't intimidate him. Obi-Wan knew that he could probably easily overpower her but that wouldn't get him any further. This complex was a maze. He would never find his way out on his own.

And then there was the strange device on his spine. Whatever it was - he was sure that it was nothing good.

„Hands,“ was the next thing Jenna ordered and Obi-Wan complied with a grin on his fine.

„You know,“ he chuckled as she fastened a pair of shackles around his wrists, „Usually one starts with buying dinner first.“

The scientist said nothing and instead pulled him forward by his upper arm.

Just as he almost reached the threshold of the cell, the alarm suddenly went off. The deafening noise made Obi-Wan's head ache and disoriented him. Absently, he rubbed his temples, only subconsciously registering how the droids told Arbor something about an escape attempt. He was then pushed roughly back into the cell and the door closed with a hiss, taking the noise away.

Obi-Wan again was left in dead silence. He knew that the other prisoners would not bother to get him out as well.

The Jedi part of him told him that this was the wisest, safest decision - but the simple human in him – that one felt alone, abandoned.

Chapter Text

Chapter 25

Since there was nothing he could do, Obi-Wan sat down on the floor, fiddling with the cuffs around his wrists. Sitting here like this - it reminded him of the past.

Past missions - Anakin, sometimes Ahsoka, at his side. Under other circumstances, his cell door would have been opened long ago - Anakin would make a joke about his clumsiness; they'd leave together.

These were ghosts of his past. Nothing more than memories that had turned to ash, leaving a bitter taste in Obi-Wan's mouth. Again he wondered if what had happened was his own fault, if he had deserved it. Maybe he really should have just become a farmer then.

He shifted again so that he had the wall at his back and continued with staring into nothingness. What was the purpose of all this?

Something heavy started gripping his heart and before he could stop himself, he found himself turning around - and smashing his forehead against the wall.

Obi-Wan didn't stop when the mild headache from before turned into a pain that threatened to overwhelm him. He didn't stop when a steady flow of thick blood started dripping down his face, making the air smell of iron.

"Obi-Wan."

He laughed when he heard the voice and slumped his head against the wall. "Go away."

„Padawan, please.“

„… you’re dead,“ he croaked, whipping his head around, even though he knew he would not be able to see anything.

„I am merely one with the Force.“

„There is no Force for me,“ Obi-Wan grounded out, turning away again, „… now leave.“

„Please don’t do this.“

„Or what?“, he snapped, „… got another kid for me to train?“

„I'm sorry,“ Qui-Gon said quietly, „I never meant to do this to you.“

Tears welled in Obi-Wan’s eyes. „… and still you left,“ he breathed, „.. where were you when I needed you?“

Silence.

„I guessed so much,“ he mumbled to himself, letting hot tears drop onto the cold metal floor, „Now go back to your precious Chosen One.“

„Pada-.“

„No,“ Obi-Wan interrupted him, „…Don’t call me that. We both know that you didn’t want me.“

„That’s not true.“

Closing his eyes, he let the pain wash over him. "Then why didn't you ever show me? ...Why did you just throw me away for a child you didn't even know? Was even one 'I'm proud of you' too much to ask?"

"I didn't know what to do."

Obi-Wan laughed hollowly. "Get out of here now."

A moment ticked by and for a second he thought that Qui-Gon had finally left him.

"Just hold on, Obi-Wan...you're not alone."

Just then his cell door was ripped open, and the muzzle of a blaster was pressed against the back of his head.

"Come on, get up," a male voice barked frantically. Obi-Wan could barely hear him over the blearing alarm.

When he didn't move, an arm looped around his neck, pulling him up in a headlock. The blaster never left his head.

"Arrik!" hissed a familiar voice, "What are you doing?"

The mother. Ten.

"If he's our ticket out of here, I will gladly take it," Arrik gritted out coolly, tightening his hold on Obi-Wan.

"Mom, I'm scared...," piped up a small voice, which Obi-Wan assumed belonged to her son.

She quietly soothed her son, before turning to his attacker. "This is not how we do things!" she argued, "He doesn't deserve to be here any more than we do."

“Maybe that’s not how you do things,“ growled Arrik in response, „But he's the reason we’re here in the first place so he will get us out as well.“

Obi-Wan kept his silence as Arrik whirled him around and pushed him forward with a slap of his blaster. He might as well just shoot him. It wouldn’t make a difference.

It wasn’t long until they encountered the first group of droids. Immediately Arrik again put his arm around his neck and pulled him back, pressing the blaster tightly against his skull. „One step closer and I'll kill him,“ he threatened.

Blood trickled down his chin and then continued to trail further down his neck, before stopping on Arrik's arm. The man didn’t even flinch.

„Release Subject Thirteen,“ ordered one of the droids mechanically.

Interesting. They really are only concerned about me.

„You will let us leave,“ negotiated Arrik, „Then you can have him.“

Obi-Wan would have liked to laugh. The man was a poor excuse of a negotiator.

He was pulled forward again, the arm around his neck almost cutting off his air supply. Metallic footsteps ahead told him that the droids were letting them pass before they went after them, their blasters probably always trained at them.

These droids are more intelligent than the standard Separatist droids.

An airlock opened somewhere above him. He heard someone climbing a ladder. Probably Ten and her son.

When the sound died away, he was suddenly let go and pushed forward. "Come on, climb the ladder," stressed Arrik, accentuating his point pushing the blaster into his back.

Obi-Wan swallowed thickly and felt for the ladder until one of his hands came to grasp a rung. As he took the first step up, a strange feeling spread through his back. Grimacing, he stopped for a second.

His back didn't feel right.

"Hey, keep climbing!" shouted Arrik from below, and Obi-Wan took his arm up in a gesture of surrender before returning it to the steel bars of the ladder. He continued climbing and his back gradually got worse.

What had started as an uncomfortable pressure now turned into a sharp pain that stole his breath. His legs suddenly didn’t comply properly and he lost his footing, skidding down at least four of the steps. Obi-Wan gasped as he caught himself with his shackled hands, panic washing over him.

Against his better judgement, he somehow managed to slam his feet back onto the ladder and continued with his tedious task of going up. He already felt the breeze of fresh air when a pair of arms helped him with getting up the last bit.

As soon as he was out of the airlock, the pain exploded in his back.

Obi-Wan let out a guttural scream as he collapsed to the ground, vainly trying to put a hand to his back. It felt like someone had crushed the bones and torn the muscles in his lower half.

„Mom, what is wrong with him?“, he heard the kid ask in a panic and a second later hands were on his shoulders, trying to ground him.

„Obi-Wan, hey… try to breathe,“ the mother tried and he absently wondered how she even got to know his name, „… we’re almost out, just hold on.“

He could barely hear as all noise was drowned out by the buzzing that had taken residence in his ears.  Ten moved her hands to cradle his head instead as he writhed on the floor but that didn’t help him. His breath came in short gasps as he fought to get the much needed air into his lungs.

As Arrik ascended the ladder, the man apparently hesitated for a moment before quietly ordering Ten to help getting him up. Hands moved to hook underneath his armpits and began to pull him. Obi-Wan wailed as something shifted again in his back and his legs uselessly dragged over the floor as they made their way towards what Obi-Wan guessed must be a ship.

„Set him down again,“ breathed Arrik again, for once handling him with a resemblance of gentleness as he guided him down to the floor, „Get the ship ready.“

Obi-Wan heard someone stopping hard. „We are not taking him with us?“, Ten asked shocked.

Arrik swallowed hard. „We can’t, Lyn,“ he said quietly, letting his hand rest on Obi-Wan’s shoulder, „They would continue to hunt us down.“

„They will hunt us either way!,“ she yelled back.

The other man kept his cool. „No, they won’t,“ he explained calmly, as if he wasn’t about to sign Obi-Wan’s fate, „They always only needed a jedi… and they have one with him.“

„… you’re cruel.“

„No, I am not. Think of your son… and now prepare the ship.“

A moment of silence ticked by before Obi-Wan heard footsteps on metal – the ship’s ramp. Lyn had left. The hand on his shoulder tightened.

„I don’t hate you, Kenobi…,“ Arrik suddenly murmured, „But I hope you understand my decision…“

Obi-Wan pulled in another labored breath. „… please kill me…“

The hand on his shoulder fell away, taking the small piece of comfort he had clung to away. „I can’t… I'm sorry.“

Arrik's boots squeaked as he stood up and finally ran up the ramp as well. A second later the engines behind Obi-Wan fired up and he futilely clawed at the muddy ground to pull himself forward.

But it was no use. The ship’s ramp closed with a hiss and with a loud burst the ship ascended up into the atmosphere.

He had no tears left. Defeated he let his head flop onto the ground, barely noticing how a fresh trail of blood made its way into his eye. The liquid awoke an all-familiar sting but it was nothing in comparison to the havoc that had been caused in the rest of his body.

„Enjoying some fresh air?“, Arbor asked nonchalantly when she found him. She stopped somewhere in front of him. „It truly is a beautiful day today… a pity that you can’t see it.“

Her droids soon joined her, blocking the few sunrays that had found their way onto Obi-Wan’s face. „Should we go after the other prisoners?“

„No,“ the scientist chuckled, „I have what I need. And they won’t get far with that ship either way… now bring him back to the lab.“

Without so much as a warning, Obi-Wan was hoisted up and he would have screamed again in pain but all he could muster was a weak croak. They mercilessly dragged him back down into the complex and deposited him on a hard metal table. He twitched involuntarily as they unshackled his hands only to fasten them to the table again.

More straps were then pulled tight over his head, torso and legs, aggravating the device in his back.

Obi-Wan wished that that thing would just take the sensation in his legs away. But there was no mercy for him.

Electrodes were again fastened to his head, before a warm hand trailed down his bare chest and then cam to rest on one of his knees.

„Make sure he’s not running away again,“ Arbor ordered as she gave his leg a short squeeze.

Chapter Text

Chapter 26

"How trustworthy is this information?" asked Padme, her fingers curling nervously around the edge of the seat. The small freighter they had acquired rumbled ungently under her feet.

Dex grumbled under his breath. "Hard to say. But it's the only lead we have," he rubbed one of his meaty hands through his face, "At least the statement is true that a ship left port at the time in question - I checked the logs."

The senator nodded stiffly and pinned her gaze on the viewport in front of her, watching as Coruscant grew smaller and smaller beneath them. "How long will it take us to get to Vanqor?"

"If there are no complications, about two days," the Besalisk looked at her seriously, "We should think about how we want to proceed and what we will do if we do find Obi-Wan."

That was her main concern. There were only two of them, and it was impossible to tell what to really expect. They had a small but well-equipped medbay in the back of the ship, but somewhere Padme still feared it wouldn't be nearly enough for what was to come.

Her fingers twitched nervously. "...I'd prefer it if we had more support."

Dex huffed. "...I am all you have, senator," he turned serious again, "but yes, our chances are not favorable." The Besalisk looked at her. "How good a shot are you?"

„I know my way around,“ responded Padme solemnly. Her guards – and Anakin - had made sure that she knew how to defend herself.

"Good," Dex answered, "If it comes to me having to carry Obi-Wan out, you'll have to shoot our way out."

She shifted her gaze to him. "Do you think it will be that bad?"

"I know Obi-Wan," the Besalisk breathed, "...and his luck."

"Anakin always said he was as stubborn as Gundark... and at least as strong."

"That's insulting," Dex grumbled, unimpressed, "...to Obi-Wan. The man could single-handedly burn down entire cities if he put his mind to it."

He caught her gaze. "But fortunately, he's too kind-hearted."

"I have a feeling you know him a hell of a lot better than I do," Padme muttered.

Something shifted on Dex's face as he returned his gaze to the viewport. "... he's like a brother to me."

That was all he offered to her and somehow she didn't dare to push him even though she knew that he wasn't telling her everything. They lapsed into silence after that, the hours dragging on painfully slowly.

After five hours Padme could stand it no longer and excused herself to the back of the ship, keeping herself busy with checking their supplies and then finally getting some needed rest.

She was awoken hours later by Dex's voice blaring through the ship's speakers.

"Senator, I need you here in the cockpit. Now!"

Without thinking Padme scrambled to her feet, barging into the cockpit not a second later.

"What's wrong?" she asked anxiously as she sat down in the co-pilot's seat.

Dex only motioned towards the viewport and as she followed his hand, she caught sight of a small ship floating around in the distance.

„Our scanners picked up three lifeforms on board. They've been trying to hail us for the last few minutes.“

Padme frowned. "Should we answer?"

He leaned back in his chair. "It's maybe an hour until we reach Vanqor - if you know what I mean."

"They could know something," Padme concluded.

"Exactly."

Waiting no longer, she contacted the ship in the distance, waiting with anticipation as the link was established.

The connection was poor, but a male voice was clearly audible after a short time. "Hello, can you hear me?"

"Yes, we can," Padme answered.

"Thank the maker...," she heard him mutter and their was commotion in the background, "...we could really use your help, our engine is not working properly."

Padme let that information sink in for a moment. "How about you tell me your name first? I'm Padme and with me is my companion Dex."

The man on the other end almost stumbled over his words as if he was still reeling from a shock. "Yes, of course... sorry. The name's Arrik. Also with me are Lyn and her son."

Dex shot her a surprised look. "You have a kid with you?" she voiced his thought.

"Yes."

"How old is he?"

"Nine," came the answer, "...and he is not doing well. We think he might have caught an infection."

Padme cursed under her breath. "Okay, listen. We are here because we are searching for our friend. He has probably been taken to Vanqor. Auburn hair, beard and a scar over his eyes. Have you met someone who fits that description?"

Silence. The senator furrowed her brows. „…hello? Arrik?“, she tried.

It took them another moment to answer. „…I… I – yes, we have…“, he stuttered.

Anxiety spiked up inside Padme and a glance at Dex told her that he was feeling the same. „Can you tell us where he is?,“ she pressed on, „Is he alright?“

There was a bustling noise on the end of the line. „Padme?“, a female voice spoke up, „It's Lyn. We have seen your friend. His name is Obi-Wan, right?“

„Yes, that's him,“ she quickly answered, „Where is he?“

"He's being held in some kind of experimental lab run by a female scientist. I think her name was... Arbor?"

Beside her, Dex screwed up his face. "...Not her," he muttered under his breath, anger etched deeply into his face.

Padme didn't have time to respond to his reaction, but an uneasy feeling spread inside her. "... You escaped from there, didn't you?"

Again, a moment of silence stretched out.

"...yes," Lyn finally confessed, "...but we couldn't take him with us - we're terribly sorry."

Swallowing hard, Padme leaned back in her seat, fighting to keep her composure.

They had left him behind.

"...It's...alright," she finally forced out after collecting herself a bit, "You said your son is sick?"

"He has been for a week now," Lyn explained in concern, "His fever is getting worse and we have no medication for him."

Padme muted the call for a moment. "We can't just let the child die," she said, turning to Dex.

The Besalisk continued to stare out the viewport, eyes steely. "I know," he growled, "...but we don't have time to waste either."

 „Then what should we do?“

He finally met her gaze. „It’s your call, senator. I'll follow your lead.“

Spoken like a soldier.

She turned back and reactivated the microphone. „Okay, we will dock at your ship and give you some medicine for your kid. But- ,“ she stopped for  a second, „If you try anything funny, there will be consequences. Do you understand?“

„Yes, of course,“ came the curt reply, „… thank you.“

With that Padme ended the call and Dex wordlessly began to move their ship towards their destination. Even though he kept his quiet she could see how his fingers unconsciously tightened every now and then.

„We'll be fast,“ she offered quietly but her words fell on deaf ears.

As they approached the other ship she got up from her seat. „I will gather the supplies. Will you meet me as soon as we dock?“

Dex's face was hardly readable as he nodded shortly and she wasn’t sure if it was sorely anger that was plaguing him or also something else.

With brisk steps Padme left the cockpit and approached their small medbay tucked away in the corner of the storage room of their freighter. She had packed enough supplies to last them for at least a week – if they had to handle one injured person.

The child was an unaccounted factor but also one she couldn’t ignore.

Making up her mind, she began to gather a spare blanket, some antibiotics and fever reducers. That was all she could give them until now.

Collecting the supplies in her arms, she went back to where the ships had docked to each other. Dex was already waiting at the still closed airlock, a blaster at his hip.

Padme decided not to comment on it. „Are we ready?“, she asked instead.

„Yes,“ the man answered and let the airlock open with a hiss, revealing three distraught and emancipated fugitives. A woman with brown curly hair – Lyn – stood near the airlock hovering protectively in front of her son who lay bundled up on one of the bunk beds behind her.

On the other end of the room stood Arrik, a human with short black hair. He was watching them with hawk eyes even though his fingers didn’t reach for the blaster that hung from his belt.

Padme noticed Dex tense as he noticed the weapon as well.

„We brought the medication,“ Padme stated gently holding out the bundle, „It’s not much but that should help at least a bit.“

Lyn began to move forward and took the package from her hands with shaking arms. As she did so Padme again noticed how thin all of them were as the skin stretched tightly over their bones. Cuts and bruises littered the pale skin but what caught Padme’s attention was the number which had been crudely carved into Lyn's forearm.

Ten.

A glance towards Arrik revealed that he was wearing a similar branding just with a different number.

Twelve.

„Thank you,“ said Lyn quietly, throwing them a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

„You’re welcome.“

It was then that Arrik finally approached them, clutching a datapad to his chest. Guilt was written all over his face. „You are going down to the surface now?“, he asked, tiredness lacing every word.

Before Padme could say anything, Dex stepped in, building himself up in front of the other man. "You have something to tell us?" he bristled.

"Dex!" hissed Padme sharply, but the Besalisk continued to stare down the poor man.

"I... yes," stuttered Arrik intimidated, shoving the datapad forward as if his life depended on it, "I - I tried to sketch a location and plan of the lab... at least as far as I remember."

Dex took it from his hands with far more gentleness now, accessing the drawing which had been scribbled on it. "In which cell do they keep him?"

Arrik pointed at one room he had marked with a cross. "There...," he stopped short and shifted his finger, "But sometimes they took us to the... to the test chambers."

Padme watched how a shiver wrecked the man's body.

I don't even want to know what they did to them. But she also knew that there was no running away from the truth either.

"Thank you, Arrik," she breathed gently, taking the datapad from Dex's hands, "This is valuable information." She glanced at Dex. "We will continue on our way to Vanqor. As soon as-," she faltered, "-as soon as we retrieve Obi-Wan we will return for you and then take you with us."

Arrik only offered a sharp nod as a response and quickly stepped back, his eyes flitting over Dex with anxiety.

"Good luck," Lyn offered sincerely, now cradling her son, "- and thank you."

 „You're welcome,“ Padme mumbled with a quick bow before ushering Dex from the ship and closing the airlock behind her.

"You were unnecessarily aggressive with him," she murmured to Dex as they walked together back to the cockpit.

Grumbling, the addressed settled into the pilot's seat, busying himself with disengaging their ships and setting course for the surface.

"Didn't you see the look on his face?" he finally growled, not looking her in the eye, "Guilt. He did something to Obi-Wan and he didn't tell us."

Padme shook her head. "You're jumping to conclusions."

Huffing, the Besalisk leaned back and crossed her arms. "Whatever. I don't trust him."

"That doesn't justify your behavior."

He screwed up his face. "Are you going to lecture me, senator?" he snarled coolly.

Blowing out a breath, Padme fixed her gaze on the planet that lay before them. "No...," she paused, "- just remember that they've been through hell too."

Dex didn't respond to her words and instead proceeded to steer the ship toward the location Arrik had given them. Indeed some kind of complex appeared - nestled into the stony ground like a fortress.

"Land the ship over there," she suggested, pointing to a spot behind a small cliff. The freighter would be hidden from view there and it was still close enough to the lab so that they hopefully could make a fast escape.

Not a minute later the ship sat down on the ground with a thud. Dex turned off the engines and wasted no time with jumping up from his seat, grabbing the blaster he had left beside the control panels and stomping out of the door into the storage hold.

Anxiety fluttering in her chest, Padme followed him on deft feet. As she caught up to him Dex had already shouldered her pre-packed bag with supplies they might need for getting Obi-Wan out and wordlessly held out another blaster for her.

Picking it from his hands, she strapped it to her belt. „Before we go…,“ she stared at Dex's back as he opened the ship’s ramp, „… is there anything you want to tell me?“

A gust of wind passed through the now open storage room and she watched as he clenched his jaw. With heavy steps he walked halfway down the ramp, only to stop. It seemed like he was thinking about something which made him hesitate, but finally he shook his head. "... No."

He walked down the rest of the ramp, waiting for Padme at its end, his expression unreadable. Unconvinced, Padme also exited the ship, watching Dex closely.

"Then let's go," she said as if offering him another chance to tell her something, but he didn't take it.

Cautiously they approached the complex until they arrived at one of the heavily armored doors, always watching out for surveillance cameras and patrols.

They were lucky though and they were able to reach the door undetected. Without much fanfare, Dex removed the covering of the control panel and began to fiddle with the wires until the door opened with a hiss.

With blasters at the ready, they entered the room beyond, where there was a ladder leading vertically down into the depths. Padme cursed under her breath. "We'll never get Obi-Wan up here."

"We don't have time to look for a more suitable exit," argued Dex intently, peering down the shaft, "We'll have to carry him up... somehow."

She knew he was right, but didn't like it at all. Not that they could change anything about their situation.

"I'll go down first," she stated determinedly, holstering the blaster and stepping onto the ladder to start her descent. Dex kept his eyes trained on their exit until she reached the bottom and was able to check if the hallway was safe. Only after she signaled for him to follow did he descend the ladder as well.

"Still nothing here," she whispered as she carefully looked around the corner.

Strange.

"I don't like it," mused Dex, pressing himself flat against the wall, "Why leave the majority of the complex unguarded?"

Padme stopped short in her tracks, dread creeping up inside her. "... because she knows we're here," she muttered, suddenly whirling around, "Dex, this is a trap!"

As if on cue a group of droids entered the hallway in front of them and another one came up behind them, effectively cornering them.

The droids didn't open fire as they approached, but kept their blasters trained at them.

"If I had known you were coming, I would have at least prepared tea," a female voice purred through the speakers, giggling, "- but instead you barge in uninvited. Don't you think that's rude?"

Padme bared her teeth. "The only thing rude here is you, Arbor. You know exactly why we're here."

"Senator, you hurt me," it sounded like she was turning away from the mic, "...don't you agree, Kenobi?"

Chapter Text

Chapter 27

"Senator, you hurt me," she turned toward him, "...don't you agree, Kenobi?"

A hand carded through his unkempt beard, by now far longer than he liked to keep it. Obi-Wan barely heard her words. He found it difficult to form a coherent thought.

Again he tried to take a breath, but the tube they had put down his throat and the machine that forced air into his lungs at regular intervals denied him. It hurt - breathing. And his addled mind didn't supply him with any information on how that came to be.

Somewhere deep down he remembered a shrill beeping sound accompanied by a sharp pain from his chest.

Did I die?

There had been tests before that. Not that Obi-Wan had distinct memories of any of them. They had all blended into an unending void of pain and agony. Everything hurt. His head, his chest, his legs.

He would never forget the crunching sound they made as one of the droids had shattered them.

Arbor's hand moved from his beard to somewhere and suddenly he found his air supply cut off. Milky eyes sprung open and he jerked on the table - moving parts of his body he shouldn't move - desperately trying to get the oxygen he needed.

"There you are," purred Arbor finally letting go of the tube she had pinched closed, "You should know better than to ignore me, honey."

He let out a gurgling sound which must have transmitted through the microphone as there suddenly where voices blaring through the speakers.

"Obi-Wan!,“ a familiar voice he somehow couldn’t place yelled angrily, "Don’t touch him, you lunatic!“

Padme clenched her hands into fists in anger.

How dare she touch him.

"I will kill her," she hissed, just loud enough for only Dex to hear, "I'll kill her... - with my bare hands if I must."

Dex stepped closer to her, eyeing the droids surrounding them closely. "Remember when we talked about shooting?" he whispered, one set of hands resting close to the blasters strapped to his belt.

Her eyes darted back and forth between the droids surrounding them and her companion. "That's insane, Dex," she whispered back, not quite seeing how they should destroy around thirty droids with barely any cover.

"Get behind me, senator," ordered the Besalisk quietly, stepping forward while using one arm to get her behind him.

"They'll kill you!" she hissed sharply, watching how the droids trained their weapons on Dex now.

"We're built sturdier than humans," was the only thing Dex offered before pulling his blaster with lightning-speed and beginning to shoot in both directions.

As the first shots rang out, Obi-Wan was filled with a sense of dread.

"Your chef is brave," Arbor commented nonchalantly, apparently watching the action via a camera, "...I'll give him that."

She turned her attention to him again, her hair falling in his face. "How many bullets do you think it takes to kill a Besalisk?"

Her words again did not make sense to him. Instead he tried to shift in his restraints, in a futile attempt to ease some of his pain. But her hand on his arm stopped him.

"Stop that,“ she ordered harshly before proceeding to press down on all the bindings that held him to the table – closing them even tighter, "You know what happened when you moved and you weren’t supposed to.“

Flashes of the sensation of hands inside his torso made him shiver and he forced himself to lay still.

Suddenly the sound of blaster fire died down and a silence settled over the room that threatened to take Obi-Wan’s breath.

Arbor suddenly jumped up from her seat next to him and it sounded like she was frantically typing something. "Nonono..,“ she punched something angrily, "No!“

Her heels clacking on the tiled floor, she stalked back to him and roughly took hold of his chin. "I was so close,“ she sneered, digging her nails into his skin, "- But your friends had to destroy everything.“ Arbor leaned down so that her mouth was next to his ear. "If I can’t have you,“ she whispered, "Then they won’t either.“

Her fingers suddenly let go of him and she hurried to the other end of the room, searching for something. When she returned, she didn’t waste time and plunged a needle into the crook of his elbow without warning. "You’re nothing special, Kenobi,“ she said, her voice dripping with acid, "You’re just an average human… your bones, your organs… nothing of these show any indication that you are a jedi…“

"Only your blood…,“ she snickered, "I would love to continue to work with you, my dear. But it seems our time has been cut short. So see this -,“ she tapped his arm, "See this as one last donation to science.“

Obi-Wan felt how the blood was slowly leaving his body and his heart began thumping faster in his chest to keep up with the loss.

Padme cursed under her breath as she downed the last droid and sprinted over to Dex where he was kneeling in the middle of the hallway, blood oozing into the fabric of his tunic. "You’re hurt…,“ she muttered, already busying herself with taking a few bacta patches out of their medical bag.

"Don’t bother,“ grunted Dex, trying to pull away, "We don’t have time for this.“

She gripped his arm to stop him. "… You are of no use to Obi-Wan if you bleed out before reach him,“ she snapped and efficiently pulled the fabric of his sleeve away to slap a bacta patch on the blaster wound.

Three more wounds got an equal treatment before she finally let go of Dex again. "… now let’s find Obi-Wan.“

Together they methodically moved through the hallways in search for the lab Arrik had marked on the map. Dex walked slower than before and had become awfully quiet, but the look of determination on his face hadn’t changed.

They finally reached a hallway which was bathed in darkness. "Arbor must have cut the power," Padme noted gravely as she stopped and fished two headlamps from her backpack, handing one to Dex.

The lamps filled the corridor ahead of them in a dim light, and the turnoffs cast grotesque shadows ahead.

"The lab should be at the end of the corridor," stated Dex and started moving again, blaster clutched tightly.

As they approached, they indeed spotted a heavy metal door with a small recessed window. Padme tried to peer through it, but despite the flashlight, she could see nothing in the blackness. Next, she tried to open the door using the control panel, but of course this didn't work without power.

"Blast," Padme hissed, "How do we get the door open?"

Dex hummed and inspected the door, holstering the blaster. "Step aside," he finally said, gripping the door with his four arms.

She had just taken a step back when Dex forced the door open. With a creak, the metal bent off its hinges and finally fell fully to the floor.

Padme blinked in surprise, letting her gaze wander between her companion and the demolished door. "Well," she finally looked at Dex, "Unconventional, but effective."

Grumbling, Dex tipped his head and picked up the blaster again. "Let's go."

The first thing they found inside the room were a lot of monitors and machines that looked like they were supposed to be in an operating room. A shiver ran down her spine as the glow of her lamp fell on more and more tools, the purpose of which she didn't even want to know.

"This is a fucking experimental lab," Dex hissed beside her, his eyes fixed on an open file labeled with a black "13."

Padme shook her head in disgust and turned away. "Let's see about finding Obi-Wan."

The room stretched farther than she had thought, and the light from her lamp was not enough to fully illuminate the room.

If she was honest with herself, this dead silence in the complex was getting to her and a certain fear was spreading through her.

I want to get out of here.

Swallowing, she picked up her blaster again and tiptoed forward, carefully peering around the room.

What awaited her made her freeze.

"DEX!," she bellowed, already darting forward, discarding her blaster on the nearest table.

Before her lay Obi-Wan, strapped to a metal slab - unmoving.

Her eyes found first his darkly discolored and awkwardly bent legs, then his torso - covered in long, red lines, held together by what looked like staples, and finally her gaze lingered on his face - and the tube stuck in his throat.

Rushing to his side, she fingered for a pulse or any sign that he was alive. "He’s not breathing,“ she gasped, panic strangling her as Dex rushed to meet her, his expression equally distraught.

"The tube,“ Dex urged, "We have to remove it.“

Padme followed the tube where it ran from Obi-Wan’s mouth to a device thagt should have been pumping air into his lung.

Fingers trembling, she tried to figure out what to do.

"Padme,“ Dex called her back to reality, already pulling on the metal straps that held Obi-Wan’s head firm against the slab, "Come on, I need you here.“

Forcing herself to move, she also took hold of the metal restraints and pulled. With a screeching sound the bolt finally came lose and Dex wasted no time with throwing the piece away before tilting Obi-Wan’s head back. "Pull the tube out.“

"What?“, croaked Padme, still trapped in a shock state, blinking at the Besalisk.

"The tube, Padme,“ repeated Dex, still holding Obi-Wan’s head, "My fingers are too thick to do this without hurting him.“

As if on autopilot, Padme finally stepped behind Obi-Wan's head and took hold of the tube, unsure of what to do.

"Now pull. Slow and steady," Dex instructed her with a calm that was her only anchor at that moment.

Carefully, she did as instructed, and indeed the tube could be pulled out with relative resistance. Once it was out, Dex listened again for any sign of a breath, but found nothing.

A snarl edging itself into his face, he removed the rest of the restraints holding his friend captive with a roar and placed a set of his hands in the middle of Obi-Wan's chest, starting compressions while quietly counting to himself.

Padme stared blankly at the scene, watching how the light of Dex's lamp flickered as he moved and how small droplets of blood began to cake the man's hands as the stitches on Obi-Wan's chest reopened.

She had been prepared for a lot – just not this.

Chapter Text

Chapter 28

It was like a nightmare. Or one of these horror-holos Dex absolutely hated. His headlamp illuminated the whole scene in a yellowish hue which provided a stark contrast to the red of the blood that kept bubbling out of Obi-Wan’s chest.

He still tried to ignore the black number which had been crudely tattooed on his friend’s forearm and the few notes he had read in Arbor’s experiment folder.

Function of organs: no abnormalities.

Bone resistance: Average.

Dex pressed his lips into a thin line, trying to focus on continuing with the compressions.

But one thing he knew for sure. There was no safe place for Arbor in this galaxy. He would find her.

And then she will pay.

Normally, he was not someone who believed in the supernatural or miracles. But today - for Obi-Wan's sake - he prayed for someone to respond to his desperate calls.

Suddenly Obi-Wan jerked under his hands, gasping for breath. For a moment it seemed as if a shimmering bluish figure was detaching itself from its friend, long hair falling on its shoulders, a sad smile almost hidden by a beard.

Qui-Gon.

But as fascinating as the moment was, it quickly snapped him back to the present as the figure dissolved and Obi-Wan once again needed his attention.

“Obi-Wan,” he breathed, immediately turning his friend on his side as he continued to cough, “… it’s okay, I got you…”

The jedi again tried to suck in a wet breath but didn’t seem to notice their presence at all.

Dex crouched down so that he was face-to-face with his friend. “Obi-Wan, can you hear me?”, he tried.

Unseeing eyes tried to focus on him, but the action did not seem coherent. Hesitantly, Dex reached out and carefully touched one of Obi-Wan’s hands.

His friend flinched in response but did not manage to pull his hand away, his head flopping on the table. A trail of saliva and blood led from his mouth, forming a small puddle next to where his cheek was pressed to the metal surface.

“We need to get him out of here,” whispered Padme, having witnessed the whole ordeal.

“Yes,” acknowledged Dex, still wrecking his brain on how to proceed, “… you think they have something like a blanket around?”

Obi-Wan's pale skin looked even paler than he knew it actually was with the dark shadows that surrounded them. The only thing they had left him was a poor excuse of shorts. The rest of his body - Dex had to force himself not to look away in disgust - had fallen victim to the experiments. They had even taken the hair on his head - leaving Obi-Wan with a kind of military styled buzz cut. The beard on the other hand had been left untouched. And then there was that collar around his neck – a cruel invention meant to hurt a force-sensitive. But he didn’t see a way to remove it now, so he had to leave it, as much as he hated that.

“There’s nothing here,” Padme explained as she returned to his side, a grim expression plastered onto her face.

“Blast,” muttered Dex in response and stood up again.

Gingerly, he now fully grasped Obi-Wan’s hand, keeping hold of it as the jedi tried to pull it away again. “… I will lift you now,” Dex explained after a moment of hesitation, “Can you try to press my hand twice if you understood that?”

His eyes wandered to the trembling hand held firm in his own. No response.

“Dex, we need to get him to a medìc,” urged Padme, worriedly staring at the blood collecting on Obi-Wan’s chest, arms and legs, where stitches had torn open.

“I know…,” he rasped and let go of Obi-Wan’s hand, “…I'm sorry, my friend.”

With that he carefully moved to lift Obi-Wan off the table.

The jedi began struggling and made a pained noise which probably would have been a guttural scream had he had any strength left.

His heart clenching painfully, Dex tried to shift the man in his arms, hoping to somehow brace the broken legs at least a bit. Obi-Wan’s head lolled against his shoulder, chest contracting sharply as he alternated between breathing and coughing.

Without a word, they started moving out of the lab, back to the ladder they had descended when entering the complex.

Obi-Wan was a dead weight in his arms, still shaking violently. “We're almost out,” Dex tried to soothe him, “… just a moment more and we're at the ship.”

Balancing the man against his chest, he used his second set of arms to climb up the ladder as steadily as possible. The jedi whimpered silently.

When he finally made it to the surface, Padme was already waiting for him, shooting a worried glance at Obi-Wan’s limp form. “Go ahead and prepare the ship,” Dex suggested as he began walking, “The faster we get out of here, the better.”

The senator hesitated for a second. “Are you sure you'll be alright on your own? Arbor could still be around.”

Dex shook his head. “If she’s smart enough, she left long ago…. Now go.”

Padme let her eyes wander between him and Obi-Wan, but then nodded sharply and began to run towards their ship.

Watching how her silhouette grew smaller in the distance, he continued on his path with steady steps.

“Don’t you dare give up on me, you hear that?”, he mumbled mostly to himself, “… you always said that you wanted to learn how to cook…”

He swallowed thickly. “… I promise you I will teach you everything I know if you hold on now…”

Of course, he got no response.

“What was your favorite dish again?...nerf burger? That’s what you always ordered when you visited with your kids…”, his breath got stuck in his throat, … yeah, I can teach you that…”

His fingers tightened around Obi-Wan as he finally reached the ship, the engine already running.

Padme met him halfway up the ramp. “We're ready for take-off,” she announced, her eyes resting on the jedi, “I already activated the meddroid, he's already waiting for Obi-Wan.”

Dex nodded sharply as he ascended the ramp completely and let it close behind him. “Good, get us up in the air. I'll handle this,” he waltzed towards their small medbay, “Call me if you need me.”

He then quickly moved on to the small medbay tucked in the corner and gently deposited Obi-Wan on the cot there, eliciting a groan from the man. The meddroid immediately began hovering over him, scanners ready.

“I must ask you to step back from the patient, sir,” it bleared.

Dex glared at the droid and bared his teeth. “I won’t leave him alone.”

The droid was undeterred. “I am programmed to help my patients, not hurt them,” it announced monotonously.

The ship jolted under his feet as they ascended into the atmosphere but Dex didn’t move an inch from his place. Somehow he couldn’t get himself to trust that droid but at the same time he knew that Obi-Wan needed the treatment. “Okay,” he finally breathed, moving a bit to the side, “You can proceed but I'll be watching.”

Not waiting any longer the droid began to scan Obi-Wan, the device's screen flashing in an angry red. After it was done, Dex could swear that there was something alike a frown on the droid's face.

“The patient has severe injuries to both upper and lower legs, as well as the knees. Presumably caused by violence with a blunt object....," it said, as Dex stared at the almost black discolored and swollen limbs, ".... there are also poorly stitched wounds on the torso, arms and legs that show signs of unprofessional surgery."

"Arbor," Dex hissed quietly, clenching his fists as the droid continued with his seemingly endless list.

"... seemingly deeply embedded into the spinal cord."

Blinking, Dex came to attention. "What did you just say?" he queried.

The droid looked up from his list. "There is some kind of device in his back," it repeated, "It has been somehow implanted in his spinal cord."

“What kind of device?”, he urged, panic rising up.

“I have never seen anything like it.”

Dex nervously ran a hand over his face. “Does it have an explosive? Can you remove it?”

“I am not equipped to perform such delicate surgeries,” it answered, “But my sensors did not detect any kind of explosive… the device seems to cause severe pain to the patient though… recommend sedation to proceed with treatment.”

His eyes wandered up to Obi-Wan’s face. His friend had his eyes screwed shut und was still gasping for breath. “Do it…,” Dex finally relented, “Treat him as best as you can.”

The droid bopped its head in acknowledgement. “I will administer a mild sedative now and then I will proceed with fixing the sutures and stabilizing his ribs and legs. Then he needs to be transferred to a medcenter.”

Swallowing, Dex watched how the droid prepared the medication and then injected it into Obi-Wan’s arm. The man was too weak to flinch away but his breath evened out eventually. The droid then proceeded to fit an oxygen mask on Obi-Wan’s face and attach a monitoring bracelet on his wrist.

“Patient exhibits tachycardia,” the droid noted after a moment, turning to Dex, “Is there something I should now?”

“He wasn’t breathing when we found him,” he supplied, “… he choked on a breathing tube connected to a not working machine… I had to perform CPR – he looked relatively stable after that though.”

The meddroid processed the information. “The description fits with the injuries presented,” it rambled then, already moving to administer a different kind of medication in Obi-Wan’s arm. “His heart rate should stabilize now.”

Dex eyed the monitoring bracelet with anticipation and let out a breath as his friend’s heart rate indeed returned to a normal. “Okay,”

“He also needs blood,” the droid said then, as it continued to hook Obi-Wan up with fluids, “He lost a dangerous amount.”

Arbor.

“She must have taken it,” Dex growled, “We interrupted her during one of her… experiments.”

Gathering the tools it needed the droid, kept moving around. “Like I said, an immediate transfer to a medcenter is recommended.”

Watching a second longer, Dex finally stepped back. “I'll… I'll talk with Padme… tell me when he wakes  up.”

He then almost fled from the medbay, stopping as the door closed behind him and letting his emotions wash over him.

“Blast…,” he hissed into his hands, flopping his head back against the wall.

Things were bad – if that would even sufficiently describe their situation. They needed to find a save place for Obi-Wan – and one that could provide a decent doctor. He didn’t know if his friend would ever be the same – or if he even was still in there.

The ship jerked again as Padme apparently docked on the other ship they had left behind priorly.

Right. They promised to pick them up.

Dex pushed himself off the wall and walked up to the airlock, meeting Padme halfway. “Obi-Wan needs a real medic,” he said immediately, “There is something in his spine and the droid can’t remove it.”

Padme stopped short. “What?”, she asked unbelieving, “What do you mean there’s something in his spine?”

“I don’t know what it is,” Dex explained, “But it’s causing him pain.”

Cursing under her breath, Padme ran a hand through her hair. “Okay…  we'll… we'll figure this out. Let's just pick up the others and then we're on our way.”

“On our way to where?”, Dex urged, as Padme opened the airlock, “Obi-Wan is a wanted man. We can’t just bring him to a Republic medcenter. Not even speaking of that collar around his neck we still couldn’t remove.”

With a hiss, the airlock finally opened and shortly after Lyn and Arrik poked their heads through the opening.

“You came back…,” mumbled Arrik gratefully, helping Lyn to climb through the door with her son in her arms.

“We don’t have much time…,” Padme ushered them inside and closed the lock again, “Obi-Wan is not doing well and we need to find a doctor as fast as possible.”

Lyn’s face fell. “… is he going to make it…?”

Both Padme and Dex remained silent at that, making the woman turn her head down. “Sorry,” she mumbled.

“Our meddroid will take a look at your son as soon as he is finished with Obi-Wan,” Padme finally said and pointed towards the small sleeping quarters to her right, “You can take the bunk beds and rest.”

“Thank you…,” Arrik and Lyn mumbled simultaneously as they shuffled past them.

Dex kept a close eye on the group until the door closed behind them. “So where do we go now?”

“I suggest we set course to Stewjon,” Padme then said, “They have a proper medcenter and the risk of getting discovered there is relatively low.”

“Stewjon?”, Dex queried confused, “Why there of all places?”

“Because we have friends there,” argued Padme, already walking back to the cockpit, “… and it was Obi-Wan’s home after all.”

Dex remained standing behind her, his face tight. “…Padme… you know that Obi-Wan’s family is dead, right?”

Her hands halted over the controls. “… yes, of course…,” she breathed, “Anakin told me… His mother and her husband are living on the farm now.”

Blowing out a breath, he sat down in the co-pilot’s seat. “Okay… I just… I just don’t want to hurt him more than necessary.”

Padme settled her brown eyes on Dex. “That’s not my intention,” she said calmly, “But Stewjon is our best option.”

He swallowed thickly. “I know… I know."

Chapter Text

Chapter 29

Ahsoka carefully carved away another piece of the wooden figurine she had been working on since a few days, admiring how it had turned out. At first it had felt wrong – taking Obi-Wan’s things – but on the other hand she also knew that he had left it behind. Maybe because the memory somehow pained him – or maybe because he had simply forgotten that it was there after all.

She sighed as she set the small bird aside and looked up at the blue sky. Stewjon was a desolate planet. News barely reached them and Ahsoka was questioning what she had missed since she had arrived here.

Letting her eyes roam over the farm, she suddenly heard turmoil coming from the house. Worry flitting through her stomach, she grabbed her things and quickly got up from her spot, making her way back.

When she entered the kitchen, she encountered Shmi frantically speaking into a comm and Cliegg standing next to her with a stricken face.

“What’s wrong? Did something happen?”, Ahsoka asked with a hushed voice, her eyes flitting between the pair.

“… okay, we'll get to the hospital as soon as possible,” Shmi said, “Don’t worry, I know people there who are willing to help.”

Ahsoka didn’t get the answer the person on the comm gave, but Shmi ended the call after that.

“What’s going on?”, she repeated again, crossing her arms.

Shmi let out a breath, looked at her husband for a second and then locked her eyes on Ahsoka. “I was talking to Padme…,” she started, “I… things happened while you were here, my dear.”

She had a bad feeling about this.

“Tell me,” she urged numbly.

Anakin’s mother walked around her and proceeded to grab her bag, as well as the speeder keys. “Come,” she put a hand on her shoulder, “I'll tell you everything on the way.”

They hurried to the speeder in silence and when they were finally on their way, Shmi began to tell her everything she knew.

And it filled Ahsoka with gut-twisting dread.

The media had claimed that Master Obi-Wan had escaped prison. He did not.

Palpatine - their chancellor – had transferred him to some kind of experimental lab. Into the hands of a mad scientist. A woman who wanted to study the Force so desperately that she had no sense of mercy left.

Padme and Dex went to retrieve him from that hellhole, finding more refugees in the process. Obi-Wan was in a bad shape. Half-dead. With a device embedded in his spine and a Force-suppression collar that couldn’t be opened.

Ahsoka felt sick.

The drive to the nearest hospital took them only twenty minutes but for her it felt like an eternity.

“Padme said that they will be here in approximately half an hour,” explained Shmi as she and Cliegg already got out of the speeder, Ahsoka close on their heels, “We need to find doctors that are willing to help Obi-Wan.”

“Why would they refuse?”, she asked aghast.

“Because his face has been all over the media,” Cliegg chimed in solemnly, his eyes fixed on a small screen at the hospital entrance where a reporter summed up the events that took place on Coruscant.

Ahsoka followed his gaze and indeed found a small picture of her grandmaster on the screen with the word ‘fugitive' written under it in bold letters. “That’s a lie,” she snarled,  a hand curling around the Beskar pendant that still hung from her neck.

“We know, dear,” Shmi reassured her calmly, putting a hand on her shoulder, “Come, let's find someone who is willing to help us.”

Anger and sadness fought a vicious battle inside her as she trudged forward, wondering if anything in this blasted universe was fair.

“Cliegg and I know some of the doctors pretty well,” Shmi explained, “I think we can get them to help.”

Ahsoka only nodded numbly, lost in her own thoughts.

How dare they brand Master Obi-Wan as a criminal?

“Let us speak with them,” Cliegg ripped her out of her trance, “You can keep a look out for the ship.”

“Sure,” she blurted out bleakly, gazing out of one of the big windows of the hospital.

Shmi and Cliegg disappeared in one of the rooms behind her, literally trying to bargain for Obi-Wan’s life.

As she stared into the sky, Ahsoka wondered if Master Plo had also betrayed them.

He had promised to do everything he could for Master Kenobi.

But what was everything? How far do the jedi really go for their own? – did they even call Obi-Wan their own? Or did they already brand him an outcast – a lost cause not worth saving anymore.

Her grandmaster had always been nothing but kind-hearted. He had given every fiber of his being, trying to turn a burning universe into a better place.  

She also knew that he suffered in silence. When he believed that there was no one to witness, his shoulders would slump and his smile would fade. Ahsoka had observed how the cracks in his mask had begun to deepen over the years.

How Satine’ death had broken that mask in half, unveiling the pain that etched its way into his face.

Her eyes widened as a small ship appeared on the horizon. “Master,” she blurted out, already running out of the hospital towards the small landing platform.

Dust swirled in her face as the ship touched down, but Ahsoka didn't care. She stared transfixed at the ramp as it slowly opened to reveal a familiar silhouette.

"Dex!" she called, barreling towards the Besalisk and catching him in a tight hug.

"Hello kid," Dex grunted tiredly, placing a hand on the back of her head, as he embraced her.

Lifting her head against his chest, Ahsoka looked at him with wide eyes. "...How is he?"

The lines on Dex's face deepened. “I wish I could tell you some good news… but he is not doing good… hasn't been responsive since we got him out.”

Ahsoka swallowed thickly. “Can I see him?”

The Besalisk gently pushed her away from his chest and focused his eyes on hers. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. The medics should have a look at him first,” he said quietly, “- and Obi-Wan wouldn’t want you to see him like this.”

Working her jaw, she stared back. “… I've seen a lot of things, Dex…,” she argued.

He breathed out through his nose in response and shook his head. “This is not a battlefield, Ahsoka.”

“But it’s still my war,” she growled, “… let me see him.”

Dex’s gaze turned steely. “No,” he said firmly, “The medics will take care of him first, then you can see him. And then Obi-Wan might tell you what happened – on his own terms. That’s what he would want.”

Ahsoka bared her teeth,  anger slithering through her veins. “When did you become an expert at knowing what Master Obi-Wan would want?”, she snapped.

“Watch your tongue, kid,” the Besalisk breathed out coolly. There was something in his eyes Ahsoka couldn’t place.

Pain. Sorrow? Regret?

While they were standing there a group of medics rushed out of the hospital, a stretcher between them and the Lars' close on their heels.

The medics ascended the ramp without another word while Shmi and her husband came to a halt next to them. “They are willing to help,” she announced relieved.

“Thank you,” Dex replied, “I don’t know how we will ever make that up to you.”

Shmi vehemently shook her head. “You don’t owe us anything. Obi-Wan did so much for us…”

After a moment the group of medics exited the ship again, this time with a still figure lying on the stretcher.

Ahsoka stared as they passed by, eyes catching on Obi-Wan’s form covered by the white sheet with only his head poking out. There was a mask on his face. The fog collecting on the inside of it was the only indication that he was alive.

Her body began moving on auto-pilot but a meaty hand held her back. She craned her head to meet Dex's pleading eyes. “Ahsoka, please.”

A part of her wanted to pull away – to run after her grandmaster – but the other part, it told her to wait – to listen.

“Okay,” she deflated and stepped back, watching as the hospital doors swung closed behind the group.

“Thank you,” whispered Dex, tiredly  running a hand over his face.

Only now Ahsoka noticed that there were bandages on his arms and peeking out of tunic.

They didn’t get Obi-Wan out without a fight.

There was again commotion on the ship and in the next moment Padme walked down the ramp, followed by three people Ahsoka had never seen before.

“Ahsoka,” the senator greeted her, a smile tugging on her tired face as she embraced her quickly, “It’s good to see you.”

She then stepped back again, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “I should introduce you to our companions…,” she said after a second, turning towards the small group, “These are Arrik, Lyn and her son Cain, we- ,” Padme faltered shortly before she caught herself, “We picked them up from the lab  we retrieved Obi-Wan from.”

Ahsoka eyed the group carefully.

They looked awful.

They reminded her of the Togrutan slaves they had freed on Kadavo. “You were with him?”, she asked quietly.

Somehow it stirred something inside her – knowing that her grandmaster hadn’t been alone the whole time.

But instead of answering Lyn and Arrik exchanged gazes, regret and shame seeping into the Force. “They mostly kept us separated,” Lyn finally offered, not meeting her eyes, “… but we saw him sometimes, yes.”

Ahsoka immediately knew that she had been told a half-truth but before she could inquire further, Dex interrupted them.

“We should get inside,” Dex said, turning to Lyn, “Your son still needs to be looked at.”

The woman nodded silently and then they quickly shuffled away towards the hospital, leaving Ahsoka alone with Padme and Dex.

“What did they do?”, she queried numbly, staring ahead.

“We don’t know for sure,” Padme answered, “And I guess only Obi-Wan might give us that answer.”

A hand again settled in between her shoulders. “Come,” breathed Dex, “Let’s wait inside for the medics to finish.”

Detached Ahsoka let herself be led into the hospital, barely noticing that a nurse directed him towards a room and she was sitting on a plastoid chair shortly thereafter.

In front of her was an empty space for a bed.

Somehow that was a way to familiar sight for her.

Ahsoka stared at her assignment, trying to finish at least something.

She hated politics. It was almost impossible for her to keep track.

Sighing, she looked up and propped her head on her hands. Her master was never much help with that sort of thing; she usually asked Master Obi-Wan.

At least until things had happened.

She hadn't seen her grandmaster in a couple of days now. The betrayal still sat deep with her and her master, the whole Hardeen incident having opened up a big rift between them. They were angry and hurt.

Still, Ahsoka worried. She knew her grandmaster had been sent on a mission. Another solo one. A mission her master knew about and chose not to tell her about.

Her eyes found her Master sitting on the couch, reading some reports.

For the umpteenth time that day, his commlink started beeping, but he only spared it a short glance before continuing his task.

Ahsoka frowned. "Shouldn't you answer that?"

Anakin looked up shortly before shaking his head. "It's not important."

“Apparently important enough to keep calling you,” she quipped but as soon as the words left her mouth she found her master giving her a dark glare.

“Sorry,” she breathed out, turning her head back towards her assignment.

Anakin hummed and set his datapad down. “I have to go to the senate now,” he grumbled as he stood up and moved past her, “There should be food in the fridge if you're hungry.”

“Mas…,” Ahsoka started but the man was already out of the door before she finished.

She forced out a breath and pinged her nose. “Meeting in the senate… sure,” she mumbled to herself, “More like running away from responsibilities…”

Sometimes she wished that Senator Amidala would knock some sense into he master’s head.

They had planned to spar today. But Anakin… he hasn’t been himself anymore. She had never seen him that angry before.

It scared her.

Finally giving up on her assignment, Ahsoka turned off the datapad and stood up, stretching herself as she did so. As she turned towards their sitting area, she noticed that Anakin had left his commlink behind.

“You really don’t want to be disturbed, huh?”, she mused as she picked up the device. A lamp at the top kept blinking, indicating the calls her master had chosen not to answer.

Something twisted inside her stomach. Before she could think about it again, she unlocked the device, the call list popping up.

02:34am missed call: Obi-Wan Kenobi

03:01am missed call: Obi-Wan Kenobi

03:14am missed call: unknown identity

04:56am missed call: Halls of Healing

10:00am missed call: Halls of Healing

12:34pm missed call: Halls of Healing

Ahsoka swallowed thickly, the commlink falling from her hand.

Almost mechanically she turned around and grabbed her boots while she already was already halfway through the door.

The other jedi gave her weird looks as she rushed past, but she didn’t care.

Ahsoka didn’t know which anger was stronger. The one directed at her grandmaster for faking his death – or the one directed at her master for voluntarily not telling her that Master Obi-Wan was back.

And most likely in the Halls of Healing.

She barged through the glass doors, startling the padawan behind the reception.

“Where....-,” she started but stopped short as she suddenly found herself  face-to-face with Master Che.

“Padawan Tano,” the healer greeted her calmly, folding her hands in front of her.

Ahsoka’s mind was still spiraling. “I swear I didn’t know,” she breathed.

The Twi'lek heaved a sigh and put a hand on her shoulder. “Come, my child,” she urged her gently.

She was led into a recovery room and numbly sat down on one of the chairs.

“What happened?”, she asked glumly.

Master Che sat down next to her, her presence in the Force wrapping around Ahsoka like a cocoon. “Master Kenobi was brought in tonight. We don’t know exactly what has happened but the guards found him collapsed on the temple stairs.”

She paused. “I don’t want to go into details… but his condition wasn’t good. It decreased even further this morning so we were forced to perform an emergency surgery as one of his lungs collapsed. The healers are finishing up with him just now.”

Ahsoka continued staring at her.

“We tried to reach your master as he is listed as Master Kenobi’s next of kin,” Master Che elaborated holding her gaze, “But he didn’t answer his comm.”

“He's not at the temple,” she lied, the words feeling like lead on her tongue, “… he forgot his commlink and I- I saw the missed calls.”

It didn’t seem like the jedi master bought her excuse but thankfully the woman didn’t press further. “In the short moments he was awake he kept asking for both of you,” Master Che tilted her head, “But we know that the situation between you hasn't exactly been easy, am I right?”

Ahsoka looked away, pressing her lips into a thin line. “I don’t know.”

Before they could talk more, a group of healers wheeled a bed into the room and connected Master Kenobi to the varying machines, before rushing out of the room again.

Her stomach tightened as she caught sight of Master Obi-Wan. She couldn't see much, but his head and upper body already suggested what had happened.

A thick bandage was wrapped around his head, doing nothing to hide the horrible bruises and swelling that distorted Obi-Wan's face. It looked like someone had taken his head and smashed it against the wall. Repeatedly.

Both of his arms appeared to have been broken, the left one wrapped up to the elbow in a bacta cast, the right one even up to the shoulder. The gown her grandmaster was wearing was thin enough that she could see more bandages wrapped around his ribs and shoulders.

"Who was that...?" she whispered in shock.

Someone who was very angry with the Jedi Master. The irrational fear that her master might have had something to do with it spread inside her.

"We don't know, dear," Master Che replied patiently, "If you like, I'll leave you alone with him. The anesthetic should wear off soon."

Ahsoka nodded detachedly. "Yeah... that's… okay I guess."

The healer stood up and gave her a wan smile. “If you need us, you can just call us, okay?”

With that she left them alone, the silence settling over the room like a heavy blanket.

Ahsoka gave her grandmaster a closer look, still struggling with what to think. She had always known Master Obi-Wan as gentle-hearted. It was so unlike him to deceive them like that. To pretend that they would not be hurt by his actions.

Something was off about that whole situation and she couldn’t place her finger on it.

On the bed Master Kenobi began to stir, his face twisted into a pained grimace as he blinked his eyes open. It took him a moment to notice her.

“Ahsoka…,” he croaked, his voice incredibly dry. He didn’t even try to suppress his surprise.

He didn’t expect anyone to be there, waiting at his bedside.

“Hello master,” she said, forcing a smile on her lips.

Obi-Wan twisted his head on the pillow so that he could see her better, swallowing hard. “I'm s-…”

“Don’t,” breathed Ahsoka, turning away, his gaze burning on her skin, “Not now.”

Hurt flickered through the Force and as she forced herself to look at him again, he had turned his head away, now mindlessly staring at the ceiling. One of his eyes was still bloodshot, the white barely visible.

“What happened?”, she finally asked.

Obi-Wan didn’t give her any reaction, except that the tips of his fingers seemed to flinch inside the cast.

“Master?”, she probed again.

“It doesn’t matter,” came the curt reply. There was a slight hint of a tremor hidden in his voice.

“This doesn’t look like it doesn’t matter,” she argued harshly.

Master Kenobi huffed a laugh which quickly turned into a hacking coughing fit. As it finally subsided, he whispered so quietly that Ahsoka barely caught it: “… I don’t know why you should care…”

Ahsoka bit the inside of her cheeks hard enough that she began to taste blood. The anger was back again.

“I don’t know either,” she blurted out, the words rolling of her tongue before she could give them second thoughts, and jumped out of her seat, rushing out of the door without turning back.

She didn’t know why she had come.

She only knew that this was not how it was supposed to go.

Only days later Master Plo told her what had happened. That Darth Maul had somehow survived being cut in half by her grandmaster. That he had an apprentice now.

And that he was out for revenge.

Master Kenobi had barely uttered a word about it, taking the fact that his nemesis was back with an aura of calmness that took years to achieve.

At least that was what Ahsoka had envisioned as she hid in her room, banishing the image of that silent scream for help that was so clearly etched into her grandmaster's eyes from her thoughts.

Ahsoka balled her hands into fists, eyeing the empty space before her.

Had she known then that it had never been Master Obi-Wan's choice to accept the undercover mission, she would have listened to him. Instead, she had run away, leaving him alone when he needed them. Leaving him alone to fight his demons. Leaving him to fight a demon that had manifested itself after years of absence, only to take the only good thing Master Obi-Wan had clung to.

Ahsoka decided that she was done running. She was here to stay, whatever it took

Chapter Text

Chapter 30

They had already been waiting for five hours. With each passing minute, Ahsoka grew more restless. Shmi and Cliegg had to return to the farm to feed the animals, promising to return in the morning. It probably would overwhelm Master Obi-Wan either way if there were that many people around. Tired, she let her head sink against Dex's shoulder, suppressing a shudder. It got cold on Stewjon in the evening. Thankfully, Padme finally returned, a pile of blankets slung over her arm and a tray with three steaming cups in her hand. "They could only give us two blankets, I'm afraid," she explained as she set the tray down on the small table to her right and held out the two blankets.

"Thank you," Ahsoka murmured, taking one and wrapping it around her shoulders.

"Take it," Dex said, beside her, his chest rumbling as he spoke, "I'm warm enough."

"Okay," Padme agreed, not questioning the man or being too tired to do it and sat down next to Ahsoka, spreading her own blanket on her lap.

Dex wordlessly picked up the tray from the table and grabbed a cup before holding the tray out to them both.

The cup was pleasantly warm as Ahsoka closed her fingers around it, chasing away some of the chill that was trying to find its way into her bones.

An old familiar smell reached her nose. Sapir tea. Master Obi-Wan's favorite tea.

„Did they give you any update?“, she asked quietly, staring at the green liquid swirling inside the cup.

„No,“ the senator answered solemnly, „… nothing.“

„Have a bit of faith in your grandmaster,“ encouraged her Dex, even though he didn’t sound convinced.

Ahsoka pulled a face. „You didn’t see him after Maul and his… his apprentice got to him.“

She watched how Dex pursed his lips and averted his gaze. „Oh, I did.“

„What?“, she breathed confused.

The Besalisk took a big gulp from his cup, not even flinching as the hot liquid must have burned down his throat. „You didn’t even notice that he was gone from the Healing Halls a few days after your visit, didn’t you?“

Shame bubbled up inside of her. „When I came to visit him… I- I didn’t know what I had expected. I was still angry, for sure, but… but seeing him like that… it somehow convinced me that I should listen.“

„You knew that Master Obi-Wan didn’t want to fake his death.“

She only had understood that right before the trial.

„Yes,“ answered Dex tight-lipped, „… I  listened to his apology… to his story… If I had been in his position, I would have made the same decision.“

„What happened then?“

„The doctors said that he could go home if he had someone to help him.“

Something that Anakin and her should have done.

„But Obi-Wan apparently had refused,“ Dex continued, „… which was more than unlike him. It was almost like he was afraid of going home…“

Ahsoka squeezed her eyes shut. „It was our fault… we just left him alone.“

Dex said nothing to that. „I offered to take him with me,“ he stated instead, „… and they let me.“

He sighed and ran hand over his face. „Obi-Wan didn’t want to at first, but I didn’t take no for an answer…. He stayed more than two weeks at my place until the casts on his arms could come off and he was able to do most things on his own.“

And they hadn’t even questioned where the man that should have been part of their family was. If he was fairing well. If he needed them.

„Thank you,“ she croaked.

“Don’t blame yourself, kid,” Dex consoled her, “You had enough on your own plate.”

“That doesn’t change that I voluntarily decided to shut him out,” Ahsoka bit out.

As Dex didn’t answer they lapsed into silence, the tea in her hand slowly growing cold. The padawan drank the cup in one go, grimacing.

Sapir tea had never been her favorite.

Her eyes wandered towards the door that let towards the hallway. “How do you think Anakin is doing?”, she asked.

She decisively forwent the word ‘Master'.

“He was… upset,” Padme chimed in, “… he was the one who told me that Master Kenobi needed help.”

“Is he…?”

“Regretting everything? … yes, I think so. But he seemed afraid, almost haunted by something,” the senator looked at her intensely, “And the chancellor has something to do with it.”

“You think Anakin is in danger?”

“I don’t know, Ahsoka,” Padme shook her head, “But one thing I know for sure, the chancellor shows way too much interest in him.”

Ahsoka frowned, letting that information sink in. She had never liked the chancellor and the friendship between him and her master had made her feel uneasy, but something like that? Orchestrating the abduction of a jedi master from prison? That was too much for a simple politician, right?

Right?

Probably Master Obi-Wan could tell them more.

Voices could finally be heard in the hallway and all three of them tensed up as a group of nurses along with a doctor pushed in a bed, an all-familiar figure laid up in it.

"Mr. Kenobi got through the surgery well," the doctor explained with a small smile as the nurses prepared everything, "We were able to remove the device from his spine, but it damaged some important nerves as well as bone material. Nevertheless, we are confident that with enough time he can learn to walk again-"

"Sorry," Padme interrupted the doctor, eyes wide, "You're saying there's a chance Obi-Wan might not walk again?"

The doctor eyed her with sympathy. "Maybe, yes. In addition to his spine, his legs have been severely damaged, and it's been difficult to fully repair. We did what we could, but we couldn't save large parts of his lower leg bones and feet, so we had to replace them. Even if he manages to get back on his feet, the chances of him walking without pain are very slim."

Ahsoka felt sick.

"There's nothing you can do?" Dex asked detachedly, staring at Obi-Wan's legs, which were hidden by the blanket. They formed unnatural shapes, already indicating to the braces that held them in place.

“I'm sorry.”

Ahsoka couldn’t follow the conversation anymore, her eyes locked on Obi-Wan’s face. It was strange seeing him with hair that short. His beard on the other hand was longer than he usually kept it.

She knew already that he probably wanted to trim it as soon as he was able to.

Could he even do it without seeing anything?

Her eyes fell on the collar still strapped around his neck.

So he doesn’t have the Force either.

“What about the collar?”, she asked.

“It’s Beskar,” Dex answered instead of the doctor, “Only the Mandalorians have proper tools to open it… and I guess they are not very keen on helping.”

Ahsoka cursed silently.

“He was awake shortly after the surgery,” the doctor finally said, “He was responsive but it seemed that he had a bit of trouble with coordination.”

“Could it be brain damage?”, Padme asked concerned, her brows furrowed, “We know that he must have been cut of from air for a while…”

“Potentially,” replied the doctor, clutching his datapad to his chest, “But the brain is capable of overcoming a lot of trauma so it would be a wise decision to give him time to heal.”

“I see,” Padme nodded stiffly, “Thank you, doctor.”

“Of course,” the man bowed slightly, “We'll leave you alone then.”

As they finally left the room, Ahsoka didn’t waste a second before jumping out of her seat and padding over to the bed. Carefully she took one of her grandmaster’s hands in hers, minding the bandages wrapped around the limb. She could see stitches protruding from the hem of his shirt.

“They must have redone Arbor’s crude stitching work,” grunted Dex as he took the spot next to her.

“What did she do to him?”, she whispered, gently clutching the hand in hers.

“Not now, Ahsoka,” suggested Padme, now standing on the opposite site of the bed.

Million questions burned inside her head, but she stomped them down – for now.

The hand she was holding suddenly jerked and Ahsoka snapped her eyes up in surprise. “Master?”, she asked, studying the man closely.

He didn’t give her any indication that he had heard her.

“Obi-Wan?”, Dex now tried, voice a little louder.

Still nothing.

“Maybe we should let him sleep,” Padme finally suggested, “He definitely needs his rest.”

One glance outside told Ashoka that it was in the middle of the night by now. “It’s late.”

Visiting hours were almost over. Soon they would kick them out. “I want to stay… he shouldn’t be alone when he wakes up.”

Padme’s eyes softened. “Ahsoka, I don’t think the medics will make an exception…”

Before she could protest, indeed a nurse entered the room. “I know it’s not what you want,” she gave a slight smile, “But I have to ask you to leave for today – our patients need their rest.”

The padawan opened her mouth only to close it again. She couldn’t come up with anything to say, tired as she was.

Thankfully it was again Dex who stepped in for her. “Could I speak with you for a moment?”, he asked the nurse.

She hesitated for a second eyeing him warily before finally nodding.

They shortly stepped out of the room and Ahsoka wondered what he was up to. She again let her eyes settle on Obi-Wan, waiting for any sign that he was waking up.

Nothing.

About ten minutes later Dex came back, a fold up camp bed tucked under his arm. He held it out to her, smiling fatherly. “You can stay.”

Her eyes almost balled out of her head. “I- I thank you, Dex,” she blurted out, engulfing the man in a quick hug before taking the camp bed from him.

“Sure, kid,” he grinned, before turning serious again, “If you need us, we're right outside in the ship, okay?”

She gave a short affirmative nod. “I know.”

“Good,” Dex tipped his head and spared Obi-Wan one last glance, “Watch out for him.”

With that Padme and him left her, closing the door behind them.

The room fell silent except for the steady beeping noise of the machines. Methodically she got to work and set up the bed right beside Obi-Wan’s, being as quiet as possible.

As she finally laid down on the bed, draping the blanket over herself, she turned so that she could see her grandmaster’s silhouette in the dark.

“I'm here, master,” she whispered, “… and I am not going anywhere.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 31

His return to consciousness was - unexpected. Obi-Wan still remembered how he had desperately tried to breathe and then nothing. His memories were blurred, partially distorted or even completely absent. Vaguely, he remembered familiar voices calling his name as he was caught in the maelstrom of pain.

It had sounded a lot like Dex. Nothing more than a figment of his imagination. A cruel fantasy that made him believe that someone had come for him after all.

Later, there had been other voices claiming they were doctors, that he was safe.

Arbor had become creative.

Obi-Wan shivered and pulled his arms up, surprised to find them not restrained. Still his body hurt all over and he made a noise as he shifted on his back.

„..aster..?“, a voice reached his ears.

He instantly froze, swallowing hard.  „Why…,“ he rasped quietly, balling his hands into fists so that his fingers began to painfully dig into the palm of his hand.

Why Ahsoka? Why did Arbor choose her of all illusions?

„Master!,“ the illusion again called  and then there were small hands on his own, trying to uncurl his fingers, „You're hurting yourself!“

She sounds so real.

„Please stop,“ the teenager pleaded, her voice trembling, „You’re safe, okay?“

Obi-Wan squeezed his eyes shut and yanked his head to the side, trying to block out the voice. „Stop…,“ he choked out, tears forming in his eyes, “I give up… I'll do whatever you want… just stop.”

The hands pulled back abruptly. “Obi-Wan, it’s me...,” she mumbled, her voice hitching, “I am not going to hurt you.”

His heart was threatening to jump out of his chest. She had him at her mercy. He couldn’t run away – she had made sure of that – and there was nowhere to go.

There was noise next to him and then something cool was pressed against his hand. “Here… you remember this?”, Illusion-Ahsoka tried again in despair, “… you gave me this before the trial.”

Trembling, he closed his fingers around the small object. He instantly recognized it.

The pendant.

Arbor couldn’t have gotten a hold of that.

Right?

“Ahsoka?”, he asked gingerly, reaching out with one of his hands, clumsily bumping against the railing of the bed he was laying in.

Delicate fingers again found his hand. “Force, yes…,” Ahsoka cried with unhidden joy as she squeezed his hand, “It’s me.”

Even though he was relieved to find that he indeed was safe, he didn’t have it in him to crack a smile.

A wave of pain shot through his body and he accidently squeezed Ahsoka’s hand hard enough in response for her to notice.

“Do you need anything?”, the words tumbled from her mouth immediately, reminding Obi-Wan of the fact that she was still so young, “I can get one of the medics…”

“It’s okay, Ahsoka…,” he stopped her, his voice laced with exhaustion. There was this all-familiar sensation around his body that told him that the good drugs were already running through his veins.

There wasn’t a lot more the doctors could do to ease his pain- except knocking him out cold again.

But Obi-Wan did not want to go back to sleep.

Maybe all of this is gone when I wake again.

He didn’t want this version of reality to end. Even if it might still be some kind of cruel illusion.

“I'm sure the medics can at least do something,” Ahsoka argued and Obi-Wan knew she was pitying him.

He shook his head which hurt way more than it should. “No more medics please…,” his voice sounded choked.

There were hands on his body holding him down as another cut into his stomach with a sharp knife. His throat had been too sore to scream.

“Okay, okay,” Ahsoka finally conceded and gently moved his arm back so that it was laying straight on the bed, removing some tension from Obi-Wan’s aching back.

“…Where are we?”, he finally asked.

“Stewjon,” supplied the padawan, “It was- it was the safest option for you.”

Stewjon.

Images of the farm – his parents – flashed through his head, squeezing his heart painfully. When Anakin and him had dropped Shmi and her husband here he had never thought to return again.

He had wanted to leave this place behind – to finally close this still festering wound.

“Oh,” was all he managed.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he licked his lips, noting how dry his throat was, “… it’s just… unexpected.”

“I understand…,” mumbled Ashoka insecurely.

Obi-Wan would have loved to give her a hug if he would have been able to. “How about you get some rest?”, he asked instead, “… you sound exhausted.”

Ahsoka huffed a laugh. “You’re one to talk, master.”

“I didn’t say I am not exhausted,” he replied bitterly, making Ahsoka fall silent, “…It’s just hard to sleep when you're being chased by demons.”

“… You’re having nightmares?”

Obi-Wan hummed. “You could say so.”

“Mas… They say that it helps talking about them.”

“There is not much to talk about… Sometimes I see Satine and she keeps telling me how I am at fault for her death…,” he stopped shortly, “… that she hates me.”

I hate myself too.

“Sometimes there is Arbor… doing her experiments… sometimes there is Anakin yelling at me that he wanted a different master.”

He swallowed thickly. “Sometimes there is Qui-Gon, saying that he is disappointed with me.”

Ahsoka didn’t say anything but took his hand again, her fingers gently wrapping around his. His cheeks stung and only then did he realize that he was crying.

“Sorry,” he forced out and tried to wipe away the tears with his free arm but miserably failed to do so as his hand landed somewhere on his chest instead.

What is wrong with me?

The padawan wordlessly produced a tissue from somewhere and quickly wiped the tears away, ignoring his embarrassment. She then repositioned his arm.

“The doctors said that you have coordination problems,” she explained calmly as she did so, “They don’t know yet if it is caused by brain damage and how long it might last.”

Fear wormed its way into Obi-Wan’s chest, constricting his breath. “…Okay.”

“They are optimistic though,” Ahsoka added quickly.

“I don’t like when they are optimistic.”

Arbor had been optimistic.

“They are trying to help you, you know?”

Do I?

“I know,” he murmured, shifting again as the pain in his legs intensified.

“Master, we should really call the healers. You're getting paler by the second.”

Obi-Wan was about to protest but instead only made a choked noise that made him clamp his mouth shut. “Very well,” he eventually forced out.

He heard Ahsoka shuffling around, followed by a quiet beep as she pressed the call button.

Indeed the healer didn’t need long to arrive. “Mister Kenobi,” he greeted, “It’s good to see you awake. What did you need?”

“My back and legs hurt,” he admitted defeated, “… and my head as well.”

“Let me see what I can do about that,” the healer said quickly, not a second later tapping on something what sounded like a datapad. “Your file says it’s okay to administer another dosage of painkillers. Do you want that?”

Obi-Wan only nodded weakly.

“Very well.” The man began to operate a machine somewhere next to his bed and soon his pain dulled so that it finally became bearable.

“Thank you,” he rasped relieved, closing his eyes momentarily.

“Of course, don’t hesitate to call us if you need anything.”

The medic then quickly excused himself, leaving him and Ahsoka alone again.

“The call button is on your left side – on the bed railing…,” she mentioned after a moment.

Obi-Wan clumsily groped for said device and finally found it as he got his hand under control. He hated how his body was failing him.

I feel trapped.

“You think you can try to sleep now?”, Ahsoka ripped him out of his thoughts.

He opened his eyes again, flicking them to the side where he suspected the teenager. “Don’t let me keep you.”

“That’s not what I meant, master.”

Obi-Wan sighed. “The answer to your question is still no.”

“You don’t want to or you can’t?”

Knowingly he kept his mouth shut.

“Then how about we just… talk?”

Come on, give her the chance.

“What do you want to talk about?”, he breathed, his voice catching in his throat.

“How about you tell me something about Stewjon? It’s your home planet after all, isn't it?”, Ahsoka started.

She’s just curious.

“Stewjon is… kind of beautiful in its own way,” he searched for words, “… my memory is hazy to be honest… I just remember it being green.”

The padawan chuckled fondly. “It most definitively is… and really calm too… I like it.”

“That’s good to hear.” Obi-Wan tried to crack a smile, but of course Ahsoka caught on.

“You don’t?”

He really didn’t want to talk about it, but he still did it – for her sake. “It reminds me of the farm, my parents… - and how everything ended.”

“I understand…,” she sounded sad now and it broke his heart, “… but that shouldn’t change your memories about the time before, right?”

“No, of course not. I guess I just never processed what happened properly,” he supplied.

He didn’t have time to mourn.

“Back at the temple… I saw a little fox figurine. It’s from your parents, isn’t it?”

Obi-Wan nodded meekly. “My father used to carve a lot and my mother loved to paint. I was never good at any of these things.”

“I think I saw one of your unfinished figures lying in around in the house. It didn’t look that bad.”

It was the first time he genuinely laughed. “Not bad isn’t good either, Ahsoka.”

“You’re to harsh on yourself, master.”

A sigh escaped his lips. “Maybe…”

He suddenly felt tired and barely stifled a yawn.

“How does sleep sound to you now?”, Ahsoka asked him again, way too observant for his liking.

“Tempting,” he confessed, letting his eyes drop closed.

“Then get some rest, master. You most certainly need it.”

Obi-Wan only hummed, letting exhaustion pull him into blissful nothingness.

Ahsoka watched how her grandmaster fell asleep, the tension finally leaving his face. His pain had been palpable in the Force and it had hurt her – seeing him suffer like this.

Her eyes wandered over to the chrono on the wall. It was midnight.

Exhaustion began to pull her towards sleep, so she eased herself down on her own cot, pulling the blanket over her shoulders.

She barely slept two hours as a noise ripped her from her dreams.

Blinking awake Ahsoka let her eyes adjust to the dark, finally realizing what had woken her.

“Master,” she blurted out, seeing the dark figure moving restlessly on the bed.

Instantly she was up on her feet and hurried over to the bed, watching how Obi-Wan’s face was  covered with sweat and contorted into a pained grimace.

She hesitated a second – thinking about what to do – until she finally put a hand on his shoulder, intending to wake the man.

His eyes opened with a gasp escaping his throat and he tried to sit up but the brace around his back held him back.

Obi-Wan grunted in pain as he flopped back on the bed, breath coming in short gasps. An arm found his way around his midsection.

“Master?”, Ahsoka asked gingerly, her hand still settled firmly on his shoulder, “It’s okay… it was just a nightmare.”

“Ahs'ka?”, the man slurred, pulling his head to the side.

Frowning, she put a hand against his forehead and he immediately pulled his head back, trying to escape her cold fingers.

“Force, you’re burning up,” Ahsoka cursed, her other hand already fiddling with the call button.

Why couldn't things just be easy for once?

Chapter Text

Chapter 32

The medics struggled for three days, trying to stop the infection. But it was to no avail.

They took Obi-Wan’s left leg on the fourth day.

„It’s not fair,“ Ahsoka mumbled next to her, making a face, „… he should be getting better… not worse.“

Padme hummed and looped her arm around the teenager, pulling her into a hug. „I know, dear,“ she whispered, her eyes trained on Obi-Wan’s still form, „… but he's strong. And we will be there for every single step of the way.“

Obi-Wan had only woken up once after the surgery, disoriented and his body still plagued by a low fever. It had been hard to tell him that his leg was gone.

He had taken in that information with this neutral expression she had seen him wear during important negotiations, barely showing any emotion. But Padme knew that there was fear hidden behind that well constructed facade.

She didn’t blame him for any of it. She would be terrified if she would be in his position.

Obi-Wan finally stirred on the bed, blinking his eyes open. He looked terribly exhausted, dark bags encircling his reddened eyes.

„Hey,“ she greeted him gently, catching his attention.

„Padme,“ he returned, his voice raspy.

She stood up from her chair and took the cup of water from the table next to the jedi's bed. „Do you want to drink something?,“ she asked, already fiddling with the straw inside the cup.

As Obi-Wan nodded shortly, she carefully took one of his hands and folded it around the cup and guided it towards his mouth, keeping her hold on it.

He took a few gulps, before she took it away again.

„How are you feeling?“, Ahsoka then asked, taking up her usual spot next to the bed.

Obi-Wan grunted and turned his head in her direction. „Better… I guess.“

„Your fever has broken,“ supplied Padme, „… we were really worried about you.“

She watched how he worked his jaw before answering. „… still alive… sorry.“ Bitterness laced his voice.

Out of reflex she shook head even though he couldn’t see it. „… that’s not what I meant.“

He closed his eyes. „I know… I'm just exhausted.“

Taking one of his hands in hers, she gave it a gentle squeeze. The doctors had finally removed most of the bandages around his upper body, the bacta having done its job. Only the scars remained.

Padme was glad that Obi-Wan didn’t have to see them.

„It’s okay if you want to sleep. We'll be here.“

The words barely left her mouth as his eyes dropped close again.

They spent the next week like that – constantly hovering next to his bed. Luckily his condition finally got better and after ten days confined to the bed the doctors finally deemed him fit enough to start some light physical therapy.

Padme watched with furrowed brows as the therapist gently moved Obi-Wan’s remaining leg and the man barely suppressed a pained flinch in response. The woman also immediately noticed her patient's response. Gently she eased the limb back down onto the bed. „How bad is your pain?“, she asked gently.

From experience Padme suspected that Obi-Wan would lie about his discomfort. His answer surprised her though.

„Bad,“ the man choked out, still struggling to catch his breath, „I don’t know what’s worse… my back, my right leg… or the one that’s not even there anymore.“

The therapist shot him a sympathetic look and readjusted the blanket over his body. „Then we should continue later today – and I'll see if the doctors could adjust your medication again.“

They had tried to lower the dosage to see how Obi-Wan would be doing. Their first try hadn’t gone well. Padme would never forget how her friend had tried to keep himself from screaming and struggling to take in the smallest of breaths.

I only ever saw him as a battle-hardened, intelligent jedi. A man who never showed any weaknesses.

But seeing him like this… it rattled something deep inside her.

After the therapist went off to talk with one of the doctors, both Padme and Ahsoka took up their seats again.

„You’re frustrated,“ Ahsoka noted dully, watching her grandmaster sadly.

„How would you feel if you couldn’t even get up to use the refresher?“, Obi-Wan retorted dryly, his voice still strained.

The padawan lowered her head, nervously picking at the back of her hand. „Not good… I suppose.“

Obi-Wan blew out a breath, his gaze softening. „Sorry… I didn’t intend to snap at you…,“ he swallowed, „… how long do you intend to be here? You have a life to go back to, after all…“

„We are not going anywhere, Obi-Wan,“ interjected Padme.

„Mhmm,“ the man grumbled under his breath, leaning back against his pillow. There was a layer of sweat on his forehead, another indication that he still wasn't feeling much better.

It was in that moment that Dex finally returned, a few bags of food in his arms. He instantly noticed the tension hanging in the air.

„What’s going on?“, he asked sharply as he sat the bags down, „Everything okay?“

„Another bad day,“ Ahsoka supplied simply.

Dex frowned and leaned over the foot end of the bed. „I thought the pain was getting better.“

„I don’t know…,“ Obi-Wan replied, hands clasping at his blanket, „Today just feels like someone rammed a knife into my back.“

„Sorry, buddy,“ the Besalisk grimaced, „I think you just need to give yourself time.“

„I know…,“ the jedi sighed, taking a deep breath, „It just feels like I am running in circles.“

A soft knock on the door interrupted them and a nurse entered the room. „Ah, good morning,“ the woman greeted, „Mister Kenobi, your therapist told me the pain has gotten worse again?“

„Yes,“ Obi-Wan nodded, „I can’t really tell where it is coming from though… everything just hurts.“

„Okay,“ the nurse said, „I'd like to check all the surgical sites again. Just to be sure nothing goes amiss there.“

She then looked at them. „If you could leave the room for a moment, I would be grateful."

Padme shot Obi-Wan a questioning look, knowing that the man was still anxious around medics. „Are you okay with that? Or should one of us stay here?“

Tension crossed his face and he seemed unsure.  "I... if Dex could stay?"

Padme looked up at the man addressed. "Of course," he replied quickly, "If I may."

The nurse smiled and tipped her head. "That's no problem," she agreed, "It shouldn't take long either."

"Okay," Padme and Ahsoka quietly said their goodbyes and left the room, closing the door behind them.

"Do you think everything is all right?" Ahsoka asked uneasily, staring down the hallway, "... I've never seen him like this."

She pulled the girl into a hug. "I should hope so," she murmured, "But I don't know."

The padawan slowly released herself from the embrace. "I've been thinking...," she breathed, "Master Obi-Wan won't be able to return to the Jedi, will he?"

Padme screwed up her face. "I'm afraid not. Not while he's a wanted man."

"Okay...," Ahsoka bit her lips, "I... I think I want to stay with him... There's nothing keeping me with the Jedi anymore."

"You want to leave the Order?" Padme asked, shocked, "Ahsoka, this is not a decision to be made lightly..."

"I know. I know," she stopped, turning towards Obi-Wan's room, "I'm just afraid I'll end up alone again..."

She lost everyone she held dear.

"You should talk to him," Padme suggested, following her gaze.

Ahsoka looked at her urgently. "Do you think Anakin will be... mad?"

"He'll understand," Padme reassured her, "Besides, he'll also face banishment from the Order."

"What will happen to him?"

"I don't know," she told her, "The last time I spoke to him, he seemed restless... But I think he regrets what he did."

"Can you forgive him?" Ahsoka asked, "Because I don't know if I can."

“I feel like… I need to give him a chance,” Padme confessed, “Anakin has made mistakes, yes… but I still love him… somewhere. If everyone abandons him he will definitely stray from the right path.”

The Togruta watched her with an unreadable expression. “I understand.”

Before Padme could say anything, the nurse finally exited the room. “We are done,” she announced, “You can go back in.”

“Thank you,” Padme bowed slightly and re-entered Obi-Wan’s room, Ahsoka hot on her heels.

“Everything okay?”, the padawan immediately wanted to know, coming to a stop next to the bed.

“No infections,” Obi-Wan forced a smile, “So nothing is out of the ordinary.”

“But?”, Ahsoka quirked up an eyebrow.

“They upped the pain medication again,” Dex answered instead, “… his wounds are not healing as they are supposed to.”

“You spent two days in a bacta tank. How is that possible?”, she mumbled in disbelief.

Obi-Wan wordlessly tapped the all-too-present collar around his neck.

“The Force,” Ahsoka finally understood, “That’s why you’re not healing.”

“And being cut off from the Force for a long time can make you sick,” Dex added solemnly, “… we need to get that damn thing off.”

Scoffing, Obi-Wan shook his head. “There is no way a Mandalorian is willing to help me… not after everything that happened.”

“What about Satine’s sister?”, Padme threw in, “Bo-Katan. She knew you and Satine were close.”

A sad expression crept onto her friend’s face. “No. She- she won’t even look at me.”

“Obi-Wan, you are not to blame for…”

“Let’s not talk about that,” he interrupted her with a stern voice.

“Then what?”, Ahsoka snapped irritated, “We can’t just let you die.”

Obi-Wan genuinely looked taken aback. “Ahsoka, I am not dying…”

The padawan stared him down, even though it had no effect on him. “But you are not getting better either… ,” her voice was barely more than a whisper, “I can’t loose you too.”

Before anyone could react, she was up on her feet and stormed out of the room.

“Ahsoka!,” called Obi-Wan, desperately trying to get up but only succeeded in almost falling off the bed.

Dex luckily caught the man just in time before his head could hit the tiled floor. “Hey, it’s okay… she'll come back,” he soothed as he helped him back up, mindful of his injuries.

Fear was written on the jedi's face. “I don’t know what to do,” he rasped, “I- I swear Bo-Katan will have my head when she sees me again.”

“Okay, calm down…,” Padme took hold of his arm and helped him lie back again, “We'll find a way.”

A tremor shook Obi-Wan’s body and a single tear slipped from his milky eyes. “I can’t do this…”

Chapter Text

Chapter 33

Ahsoka hadn’t visited again. He only knew from Shmi and Cliegg that the girl had returned to the farm and had barely left her room since.

He was worried, to say at last.

“Mister Kenobi?”, his therapist ripped him out of his thoughts.

“Hmm? Oh, I'm sorry…,” he excused himself, “Could you please repeat what you said?”

The woman sighed as she moved his leg again. “You’re worried about that girl, aren't you?”

Obi-Wan pressed his lips into a thin line. “She’s… she's like a daughter to me.”

A chuckle escaped her throat. “I can see that… she adores you.”

“… I don’t deserve her.”

“That’s not true,” she chided, “… and you know that.”

She put her hand against his foot. “Come, try to push my hand away.”

Obi-Wan screwed up his face in exertion and did as she told him. It was a slow and painful process but the result still seemed to satisfy her.

“Good,” she praised him, “If you keep going like this, we can try standing up in a few days.”

In a few days?

Obi-Wan swallowed around the lump in his throat. They had attached his first prosthetic today. A dingy thing, scrapped together from a broken droid.

But Stewjon was a poor planet, he was glad for everything they could offer him.

“Okay,” he rasped, “What about my back brace? Any chances at removing that?”

She made an apologetic noise. “Your back is still not stable enough… something is holding up the healing process.”

That damn collar.

It was a struggle to breath around it and every few days the doctors had to put bacta around it as the sharp metal teared into his skin.

“I understand,” he said, despair leaking into his voice.

The therapist paused for a moment and he knew that she was ogling him with sympathy.

I don’t want anyone’s sympathy. I don’t want to be reduced to… whatever this existence is.

He was angry.

“I think we are done for today,” she finally said, “Do you need anything?”

“No,” Obi-Wan bit out, sounding harsher than he intended to, “… thank you.”

My back and leg still feel like they have been set on fire, but it’s not like they can keep pumping me full of drugs.

He had to learn to deal with the pain – his limitations.

“Very well,” the woman replied, “Just call if anything changes, okay?”

Obi-Wan only nodded in response and waited unmoving until she left his room before letting his shoulders drop. Shaking hands found their way up to his face.

He forced himself to take a deep breath, as a wave of nausea threatened to overwhelm him.

Not another mess for them to clean up.

It was tiring – being dependent on everybody. There was barely anything he could do on his own.

Eating was troublesome. Not to mention his constant needs like relieving himself or wanting to take a shower.

It was embarrassing. Even though he finally upgraded to using a wheelchair to get to the refresher now.

Never unassisted though.

Time ticked by painfully slow. Padme, Dex, Cliegg and Shmi kept visiting throughout the day, keeping him from losing his sanity.

Ahsoka still did not visit.

Obi-Wan forced himself not to dwell on it. It still hurt.

It was on the fourth day right after he finished his first walking exercise and was sitting at a small table in his room, that a soft knock sounded from the door.

“Come in,” he called, not really paying attention as he suspected that it was one of the healers.

The door opened slowly and was closed again.

Obi-Wan finally lifted his head from where he had been focusing on the glass of water in front of him. “Hello?”, he asked cautiously, furrowing his brows.

Another second ticked by, doing nothing to help with his uneasiness.

“Hey,” an all-familiar voice finally piped up.

His heart grinded to a halt.. “Ahsoka,” he breathed, a chill running down his spine.

He heard how she tip-toed closer, coming to a halt on his left side. Obi-Wan twisted on his chair, would have loved to stand up but knew he should – could – not.

“I…,” the teenager started hesitantly, before falling silent again.

In moments like this he missed his capability to see. Without the Force – it was almost impossible to guess what someone else was thinking or feeling just by their voices.

Instead of saying anything he opened his arms – waiting for her to decide.

His confidence shattered as Ahsoka remained unmoving. Slowly he let his arms sink again.

Almost as his hands had reached his sides again, he was suddenly engulfed by a pair of arms.

Obi-Wan gasped surprised, his breath momentarily stolen from his lungs. But before she could pull back again, he looped his own arms around the girl, pulling her close. The embrace sent searing waves of pain through his body but he didn’t dare to let go.

His head dropped on top of Ahsoka’s head, his beard catching on her montreals.

“I'm sorry…,” he whispered.

Underneath him, Ahsoka shook her head. “No…,” she objected, “I shouldn’t have yelled at you. None of this is your fault.”

Gently, he pulled back. “I know that you want to help me, but…,” he shook his head, “… I really don’t think that Bo-Katan will help us.” Obi-Wan huffed a laugh and turned away. “She has never been fond of me. Always a true Mandalorian.”

“And then there is this whole fiasco with Maul and Satine…,” he continued calmly  “…she has enough on her own plate.”

"You're looking for excuses," Ahsoka murmured with a hushed voice, "Asking costs nothing.... if she declines... then we look for different ways."

Obi-Wan grimaced. "No... you don't understand," he rubbed a hand over his face, "One of the last things I was allowed to see was Bo-Katan's face... how she said that I should pray for my life that we would never cross paths again... that it was her last mercy to let me go after everything I did to Mandalore and Satine."

He could only guess the look Ahsoka must be giving him. “… she threatened you?”

“You could say so,” he responded, “… and I don’t know how to feel about one of them coming close to my neck.”

“That’s…,” Ahsoka bristled with anger, “How dare she?”

A sigh escaped his throat and he massaged his temples as a headache started to make itself known. “Please, calm down, dear.”

“Sorry,” the padawan's voice was much quieter now, “…sorry.”

He tried to crack a smile as the roaring in his ears reached new volumes. “It’s alright.”

The girl went silent for a moment before speaking again. “… are you okay? You’re… pale?”

The buzzing was persistent. “I…,” he started, his tongue feeling unnaturally heavy, “Could you help me get back to the bed?... I admit I feel rather tired.”

He held his arm out for her to take.

“Oh… sure,” she said quickly, insecurity leaking into her voice.

Ahsoka lightly took hold of his arm but soon noticed that he was lacking more strength than she thought and increased her grip on him. Obi-Wan gritted his teeth as he used his other arm to push himself up, both his legs protesting in different ways.

The prosthetic creaked loudly as he put his weight on it.

His frame shook from the strain which made Ahsoka eventually loop his arm over her shoulder and settle her other arm around his waist.

It was humiliating – having to lean on her like that. Thankfully she didn’t comment on his weakness and simply guided him the short distance over to the bed, sitting him down gently.

Obi-Wan used his arms to pull his legs up on the bed, absently rubbing the stump of his left leg.

“Is the prosthetic bothering you?”

His hand stopped its movement. “I’m not sure… today was the first day that I actually walked with it.”

“Oh.”

She feels bad for not being here.

“I think I just need time,” he said quietly.

She hummed and sat down at the foot of the bed. “I… can I ask you something?”, she asked shyly.

Obi-Wan furrowed his brows concern. “Of course… you know you can talk to me about everything.”

“I know..,” her voice was hushed, “It’s just that… I've been thinking… about what I want.”

He listened intently.

“You won’t return to the Order, don’t you?”

He had a feeling that he already knew what she was getting at. “No. I won’t.”

Something shattered inside him as he voiced his loss. The very thing he had fought for most of his life – gone. Now he was… nothing.

“Okay,” she breathed, “Then… I guess there is no reason for me to stay there either.”

“You want to leave the Order?”,  he asked for clarification, keeping his voice as steady as possible.

“Yes,” came the short answer.

“Ahsoka,” Obi-Wan sat up on the bed, “I don’t want you to make that decision just on my behalf.”

“I realized that there are more important things than becoming a Jedi knight,” her voice was strong, “… a family.”

His heart was squeezed painfully but his chest was filled with warmth.

“What about Master Plo?”, he argued, wanting her to be sure about her decision, “I know that he would take you in without asking… you wouldn’t need to spend your life on the run.”

“It’s not the same…. With Anakin gone…,” she choked and let out a sob, “… you’re the only person that makes me feel safe.”

His throat tightened. He didn’t know what to say.

Why me?

I have nothing to offer to her.

“… okay,” he forced out, “Just don’t forget that no matter which decision you make, I’ll support you. Jedi or not.”

Obi-Wan heard how she shifted from her spot and a moment later again arms looped around him, her head settling on his shoulder.

“Thank you,” she mumbled.

He let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding and gently tugged his head to the side as her head started to press against the collar around his neck. Suppressing a wince, he used on his hands to prod at it, his fingers coming away sticky.

It was bleeding again.

As he cursed silently, Ahsoka whipped her head back. “Did I hurt you?”, she asked shocked.

Vehemently he shook his head. “No, no…,” he explained, “…This just keeps happening.”

The teenager stood up from the bed and shuffled around, before returning to him and pressing a piece of gauze against the wound. “There is no way that this thing can stay on…,” she whispered.

“I know.”

“We need to ask the Mandalorians for help.”

A weight settled on his chest, taking his breath away. “…. I know.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 34

Two weeks later

Ahsoka watched solemnly as Obi-Wan limped out of the hospital, leaning heavily on the crutches he had clamped under his shoulders. His gait was uneven, the prosthetic obviously still a hindrance for him - besides the back brace that somehow held his back together.

He'd never talked about it - and she'd never asked in return - but you didn't need to be a doctor to realize that the thing was uncomfortable.

The doctors had done everything they could. They discharged Obi-Wan now, hoping he would get some rest - word had gotten out about his anxiety around medics.  They had all received instructions from the doctors to provide Obi-Wan with the best possible support. Even if he couldn't - or didn't want to - accept that others had to help him. Ahsoka wasn't sure if it was pride or shame that kept him from doing so.

A blue scarf was wrapped around his neck, effectively hiding the collar Ahsoka hated so much.

Dex and her quickly approached him, meeting him halfway.

“Good morning, ol' man,” the Besalisk greeted the other with a grin.

Obi-Wan lifted his head and quirked up an eyebrow. “And here I thought you were starting to hold back on me,” he quipped back, one of the most genuine smiles Ahsoka had seen in a while creeping on his face, “But good morning to you too… you relict.” Dex only looked mildly surprised by the response.

The wind ruffled Obi-Wan’s hair, exposing his graying temples. Ahsoka couldn't help but laugh.

“What’s so funny?”, Obi-Wan asked, tilting his head in her direction.

“Oh nothing,” she snickered, “I just missed this.”

Obi-Wan huffed and started hobbling forward again. “Let’s get going, shall we?”, he proposed, “… I don’t know how long I am able to keep standing…”

“Of course, the ship’s straight ahead.” Dex gently put his hand between the other man’s shoulder blades. It looked like a friendly gesture,  but Ahsoka knew that he did it because he was afraid that Obi-Wan might stumble.

Nevertheless he made it up the ship’s ramp without an incident, coming to a halt on the top.

For a moment, Ahsoka was confused until she realized what he was waiting for.

Directions. He has no way of knowing where to go.

“You have to turn left now,” Dex explained, “It’s maybe four steps until you reach the door to the cockpit.”

Obi-Wan tipped his head in understanding and began moving in said direction. As he reached the door, it opened with a hiss, revealing Padme in the pilot's seat.

The senator turned around, smiling as she stood up. “Hello Obi-Wan,” she greeted lightly, embracing him carefully, “It’s good to see you finally up and about.”

Obi-Wan gave her a wan smile and slowly returned the gesture by lifting one of his hands from his crutches to her back. “Thank you, Padme.”

Padme stepped back, studying the man closely. “How are you feeling?”

“I'm fine.” It was Obi-Wan’s usual answer if someone voiced their concern – but somehow it came out with less strength than normal.

Before they could discuss further, Dex intervened. “Let’s prepare for take-off, shall we?”

Padme re-seated herself on the pilot’s chair while Ahsoka silently took up the seat behind her. Dex seemed to whisper something into Obi-Wan’s ear whereupon the man turned slightly to the right, using one of his crutches to locate the chair meant for him. As his crutch made contact with the durasteel with the chair a hollow noise echoed through the ship but everyone decided to ignore it.

Ahsoka forced herself not to stare as her grandmaster made his strenuous way over to the seat and awkwardly sat down with a pained grimace on his face. With the back brace on, he had no chance on bending his lower back, making every move he made seem somehow uncoordinated.

He leaned the crutches against his leg and buckled himself up, unbeknown of the pair of eyes that was watching him.

In the meantime, Dex had also sat down and not soon after their ship lifted off the ground.

They were going back to the farm, Cliegg and Shmi having offered to take them in. Obi-Wan had taken that information in without saying anything and Ahsoka had wondered if it was bothering him.

But they didn’t have a choice.

The flight thankfully wasn’t long and soon they exited the ship again, the all familiar smell of farmland reaching their nostrils. Obi-Wan had taken a few steps from the ship before he had stopped again, an unreadable expression on his face.

“Everything okay?”, Ahsoka asked cautiously as she returned to him.

“Hm? Oh… I,” Obi-Wan stumbled over his words before shaking his head, “Sorry… it’s just strange… being here again.”

“There are lot of memories, aren’t they?”

He pressed his lips into a thin line and nodded. “You could say so.”

“If you want to talk about anything…,” it was a quiet offer, free for him to accept or decline.

“Thank you, Ahsoka…,” he forced a smile, “… but not right now.”

“Okay,” she breathed, watching how his milky eyes flitted over the landscape. Sometimes she wished she could share what she was seeing with him.

“You want to join us inside?”, she finally asked, “I think Shmi and Cliegg prepared some food.”

Something shifted on Obi-Wan’s face. “I…,” he hesitated, obviously struggling with his answer, “… yes, of course.”

His expression turned blank again.

But Ahsoka knew what she had seen.

Sadness. Grief. Pain.

Quietly she led the way, holding the door open for Obi-Wan as they reached the house. He limped past her, only stopping shortly to run one of his hands first over the wall and then over a small dresser which had been pushed against it. His brows furrowed momentarily as if something confused him but the emotion was gone before Ahsoka could ask him what he was pondering about.

Without needing directions he hobbled forward into the kitchen, catching up with Padme and Dex who had already greeted Shmi and Cliegg.

Ahsoka quickly joined them, the smell of freshly cooked dinner reaching her nose.

“Sit down,” she heard Shmi say firmly as she entered the room and watched how the woman pushed Obi-Wan, visibly disgruntled, onto one of the chairs.

“I'm not-,” Obi-Wan started but Anakin’s mother cut him to it.

“It’s okay, dear,” she smiled, “Relax. We have more than enough helping hands.”

Her grandmaster's shoulders slumped visibly and he kind of seemed hurt by her comment. Ahsoka shortly pondered why until it dawned on her.

He thinks he is a burden.

Before he had people who had depended on him – and he still has – but with his independency constantly taken from him he probably started feeling useless.

She took the seat next to him as a pot of soup was set down on the table and then divided onto plates.

Ahsoka couldn’t help herself but dig right in, only stopping when she noticed that Obi-Wan was barely eating. The man was absently stirring the soup with his spoon.

Observant as she was, Shmi also quickly took note. “Obi-Wan, is everything okay?”

He froze, seemingly caught off-guard. “Of course,” he answered tight-lipped after a moment, “Like I already mentioned to Ahsoka, it’s just strange to be here again.”

Everyone at the table eyed him carefully. “I understand,” Shmi eventually said, “If there is anything we can do…”

“I know,” Obi-Wan interrupted her, his hand clenching around the spoon, “… I'll let you know if I need anything.”

The silence that followed was almost unbearable. Still, Ahsoka would have preferred it to the question that came next.

"What is your plan now?" Cliegg started again, letting his gaze wander around the group.

I didn't want to talk about it yet.

"I'm afraid we can't stay any longer," Padme supplied, "So Dex and I will leave for Coruscant tonight."

Obi-Wan's ears perked up at these words. "You're leaving?" he asked, irritated, "Why didn't you say anything?"

“We wanted you to focus on your healing,” Dex replied undeterred.

A sour look crept on Obi-Wan’s face as he turned his head away and it made it even harder for her to say what she needed to say.

“… and I wanted to join them,” she told him quietly, “… to get some stuff… say my goodbyes…”

His jaw clenched and he swallowed hard. “Alright,” he acknowledged silently, a sense of betrayal radiating of him.

Their conversation died down again after that and no one dared to start another until dinner was finished.

Silently, Ahsoka helped the others clean up, avoiding having to look at Obi-Wan who still sat unmoving at the table. Maybe they should have given him a heads-up.

But there was no going back now.

Sooner than she'd liked they were done and all they needed to do was leave. Somehow this was the hardest part.

Obi-Wan unsteadily got up from his place with a frown that spoke of discomfort and propped himself up on the table to find his balance. He then took hold of his crutches again, fixing them with unseeing eyes after he finally found his footing. “So this is it then?”, he asked.

“Yes,” Padme returned, her face filled with concern, “… I'm sorry about not telling you this earlier.”

He shook his head in response. “No… it’s okay. You were probably right,” he paused shortly, looking thoughtful, “…It’s just that I still have no idea how to thank you for all of this.”

“I owe you my life,” his eyes glistened as they flitted over them, “I won’t be able to ever repay you for this.”

“You don’t owe us anything,” Dex subjected, squeezing his friend’s shoulder, “You would have done the same for us.”

Obi-Wan flashed him a smile that didn’t quite reached his eyes. Ahsoka didn’t need the Foce to see that something was bothering him.

A few more words were exchanged but she didn’t really pay attention. The Force was buzzing but she couldn’t understand what it was supposed to mean. She shook her head in an effort to clear her thoughts.

Having said their goodbyes, Dex and Padme already walked ahead to the ship, accompanied by Shmi and Cliegg, leaving her alone with Obi-Wan in the kitchen.

“You seem distracted,” he noted, his perception still on point.

Ahsoka crossed her arms in front of her chest. “And you are bothered about something,” she countered.

His scar twitched as he furrowed his brows, the air thick with tension. “I don’t know what it is,” he finally relented, “… I just feel like I should remember something and… that knowledge gives me a bad feeling, that’s all.”

“What should you remember?”, she asked, the weird sensation in the Force returning.

Obi-Wan hobbled over to the counter and leaned against it, putting his crutches aside in favor of reaching up to stroke his beard.

It was such a familiar gesture but somehow it unnerved Ahsoka now.

“I know that there is a gap in my memories,” he explained, a stricken expression on his face, “…Between the prison and Arbor’s lab.”

“The doctors said that it is normal not to remember everything…,” she tried even though she was unconvinced herself.

Her grandmaster shook his head vehemently. “No… it’s not that… It’s that I just know that whatever I am missing was important.”

The Force nudged her again and she had a hunch what he might be missing. “Obi-Wan… do you  remember Chancellor Palpatine being there with you?”

His face pinched in concentration before he again shook his head. “No… should I?”

Ahsoka nervously shifted on her feet and licked her suddenly dry lips. “He probably was the one to send you to Arbor’s lab… I know that doesn’t make sense.”

He let the information sink in while staring into nothingness. “Is that all?”, he blurted out, still unconvinced.

“That’s all I know,” she pressed her lips into a thin line, “… sorry.”

“Alright,” Obi-Wan tipped his head, “…Promise me you will be careful.”

A small smile crept on her lips. “I always am.”

“I am serious, Ahsoka.”

A lump formed in her throat. “I know,” she responded sincerely. The Force again whispered something intelligible, as if it was unsatisfied with something. “… will you join us outside?”

“Of course.” He took hold of his crutches again and pushed himself off the counter, motioning for her to go ahead.

As they stepped outside Ashoka noted that the sun had begun to set, casting long shadows over the farm. Somehow it felt like they were dark harbingers, even if she didn't know what they heralded.  

It left her with an uneasy feeling.

The Force still felt murky, like a thick veil of darkness was trying to settle down.

She turned to Obi-Wan one last time and pulled him into a hug before she could think about it further. “I will be back in a few days…,” she squeezed him tighter before stepping back again, “… try not to die while I am gone.”

He didn’t smile at her attempt of humor. “I'm more worried about you… all of you.”

Ahsoka wondered if he might have sensed something if he still had access to the Force. If he shared the same sensation of dread as her.

“Everything will be fine,” she said – or lied, “… try to get some rest.”

She then forced herself to walk away, up the ship’s ramp and into the cockpit where Dex and Padme were already waiting.

“Are you ready to set off?”, asked Dex, as she settled down in the seat behind him, sparing her a glance.

“Yeah,” she answered, letting out a breath in an attempt to push down the feeling of uneasiness, “Let’s go.”

The Force continued to whisper.

It only got louder when she set foot on Coruscant hours later.

Chapter Text

Chapter 35

The sand that the ship kicked up as it took off stung his face. But Obi-Wan's mind didn't really catch up to that. He was struggling too much with his inner turmoil - the feeling that something bad was about to happen.

Subconsciously, one of his hands shot up to the collar under his scarf, his fingernails digging under the metal in an attempt to rip the thing off.

A warm hand closed around his and released his fingers from their iron grip. He only now realized he was bleeding - the sticky feeling on his neck and fingers and the smell of iron.

"You shouldn't do this, Obi-Wan," Shmi spoke softly, still holding his hand, "... now you're bleeding."

Obi-Wan squared his jaw in response and fixed her with milky eyes. "It has been since they put it on me," he murmured sharply, earning him a gasp, "What's a few more drops?"

The hand around his tightened. "But there's no need to hurt yourself..."

A hollow laugh escaped his throat. "Is there really not?"

"Obi-Wan, we're worried about you."

He could imagine exactly how Shmi must be looking at him right now - full of pity.

He abruptly withdrew his hand and settled it back on the handle of his crutch. "... I think I need to go for a walk."

"It's getting dark already," Shmi argued immediately, holding him back by the arm as he was about to turn away.

His patience was wearing thin. "You know as well as I do that it makes no difference to me," he bit out.

"And where do you think you're going? You can barely stand on your feet," Shmi hissed back, now also audibly annoyed.

He clenched his teeth, forced a breath out of his nose - and let go of his tension. "Shmi, please," he reasoned with her again, much calmer now, "... I just need this."

The hand on his arm softened a little. "... then let me go with you."

The more dominant part of him didn't want that. But his voice of reason whispered that he should accept the offer.

“… Fine,” he breathed, adjusting his scarf  so that it mostly covered the collar again.

Without waiting for her to react, he set off. He knew the way to his destination blindly. Leaning on his crutches, he walked forward with the surest step he could muster, listening intently to his surroundings. He heard the wind whistling around the houses, the birds chirping -  Shmi walking beside him with quiet steps.

The cobblestones beneath his shoes quickly turned to pebbles and then to uneven, overgrown forest floor. Obi-Wan stopped short, suddenly aware that things might be more difficult than he had previously thought.

"What's wrong?" Shmi asked, having accompanied him in silence until now.

He hated having to admit his problems.

"The path," he admitted quietly, "... I'm afraid the vegetation has taken it over."

Fortunately for him, Shmi didn't rub any more salt in his wound. "Tell me where we're going and I can guide you," she offered instead, "... if you trust me."

Obi-Wan was ashamed of himself but still tipped his head slightly in acknowledgement. “It should not be far anymore. Just walk straight ahead until you reach a clearing with a large tree and pond on it.”

"Alright," Anakin's mother breathed, gently placing a hand on his arm and leading him slowly forward, whispering little warnings whenever something got in their way.

He knew they had reached their destination when he heard Shmi make a surprised noise next to him. "Oh..."

A shallow grin stretched across his face. "It's beautiful, isn't it?" he asked melancholically, his memories illuminating his otherwise dark surroundings.

Slowly, he released himself from Shmi's grip and limped forward until he could feel the bark of the old tree with his fingers. A few tears pricked at the corners of his eyes but he forced himself to pull himself together.

Not now.

His hand moved further upwards, where it felt the first wooden beams above his head - and the remains of a rope ladder.

"Did you build that?" Shmi murmured, her voice vibrating with astonishment.

Obi-Wan swallowed hard and lowered his hand again. "My father and I built it...," he confirmed, "For a long time, the idea of building a tree house had been nothing more than an old joke between us... until one day, on one of my visits, we just did it," sadness spread through his heart, "... I had always wished somewhere that maybe I could show it to Anakin."

He knew it was unfair – telling her that.  But still he could not stop himself.

“I'm sorry…,” Obi-Wan quietly added after a moment.

“No,” Shmi returned equally stifled, “… don’t be.”

Her words did nothing to ease the weight that had settled on his heart.

He took a step back from the tree and awkwardly began to kneel down, his prosthetic creaking loudly as he forced the joint to bend. A sharp pain ran through his back, making his breath hitch and forcing him to catch himself with his hands on the floor.

Wordlessly Shmi settled her hands on his shoulders and gently eased his upper body upright, so that he could readjust his leg.

"Thank you," he breathed, once again wishing he could meet her gaze.

Her fingers squeezed him gently before withdrawing again.

He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to tame his inner turmoil. He was not to succeed.

With shaky hands, he finally felt over the forest floor in front of him until they found what he was searching for.

The stone felt exactly as he remembered it. Over the years, moss had begun to overgrow the surface - trying to hide the aching truth from him.

I definitely need to clean this place… maybe plant some flowers.

His fingers dug into the growth and pulled it out with a tug. Obi-Wan let the greenery fall to the ground regardless - too caught up with what has been hidden underneath.

Delicately - as if it could hurt him, and of course it would - he traced the precisely chiseled notches in the smooth stone.

Renan Ben Kenobi

Siala Kenobi

Loved and Unforgotten

He suddenly felt like someone had dumped a bucket of ice-cold water over him, making him shiver harshly. It became even harder to breathe around the lump in his throat and suddenly he found himself choking, his body shaking so violently that he threatened to fall over.

The tears he had tried to hold in the whole time began to fall mercilessly.

He only noticed that Shmi had sat down next to him when she gently took his hand. "Do you want me to stay or do you need a moment to yourself?" she asked calmly.

It was supposed to be a simple question, but at that moment it made Obi-Wan struggle with his decision.

Sending her away would be the easiest solution - and he could shovel his pain back into himself alone, hiding it from others. Adjust the mask in front of his face.

The last person he had allowed to see his weaknesses had been Satine.

His beautiful angel whom he had failed so miserably.

"... please stay," it tumbled out of him ever so quietly.

"Of course," Shmi whispered, "Is it okay for you if I hug you?"

Still fighting to get his breath under control, he gave a hesitant nod. His body still involuntarily tensed up as her arms looped around him, pulling him against her side.

"Sometimes I wonder if I ever made the right decision...," he finally blurted out, his hand clenching on the gravestone, "... if it's fair that so many have already had to go - and I'm still sitting here."

"None of what happened is your fault, Obi-Wan."

He squeezed his eyes shut and turned his head away, hiding the evidence carved into his face. "... I think your son sees it differently."

"Anakin is a man of his own decisions - and only his own.  You taught him with the best of intentions, but how he applied his knowledge in the end was entirely up to him... all I can say is that as his mother, I couldn't have asked for a better mentor for him."

The words that should have been soothing instead tugged at his heart, making it feel like someone was trying to rip it out.

"...Then why couldn't he trust me, Shmi? ...why did he feel like I was his worst enemy when I should have been his brother?"

He let the question hang between them, pulling out of her embrace and proceeded with  pushing himself awkwardly to his feet. The splint around his back had begun to pinch uncomfortably and Obi-Wan grimaced as he placed one of his hands against the throbbing spot, though it did nothing to ease his discomfort. 

He wished he could reach the Force. With his other hand, he hastily wiped the remnants of tears from his face.

A rustling beside him told him that Shmi was also getting up. A moment later, his crutches were held out to him.

Obi-Wan released his hand from his back and intended to take the crutches, but Shmi held them tightly.

"Promise me one thing Obi-Wan...," she whispered sharply, "Promise me you'll stop blaming yourself for everything."

With a jerk, he pulled the crutches towards him and looked up briefly at the sky, which offered him nothing but blackness. "I can't do that," he replied, finally turning his head in her direction, "You know that too."

"Very well," Shmi conceded, "But I won't stop trying."

Obi-Wan did not try to give her a smile. "I don't expect you to."

They made their way back together in silence, each of them lost in thought. Only when they climbed the steps of the house did Shmi speak again.

"...I could take care of it, you know," she offered.

Frowning, Obi-Wan stopped. "Take care of what?"

Her hesitation told him that she was unsure. "The grave...," she finally murmured, "Only if you want to, of course... but I can imagine how hard it must be for you."

She could never imagine.

He shook his head. "I can't ask you to do that."

"Please, Obi-Wan. You gave us the farm and we are so eternally grateful for it... Let us at least give you something back."

"You're already doing so much by letting me stay here," he pressed his lips together, "...this is more than enough."

"This is your home..."

"This is not my home," Obi-Wan snapped abruptly, interrupting her, ".... At least it hasn't been for some time."

For a moment, he was glad that he couldn't see anything. The memories that lingered in this place - they were too much to bear. When he had realized on his arrival that Cliegg and Shmi had not changed anything in the house, it had triggered something indescribable.

It left a burning sensation - a longing. The desire for something he would never have again.

The realization that he had made this decision at a young age and now had to live with the consequences.

Obi-Wan had fought to become a Jedi - and had turned his back on his real family.

Maybe they would still be alive if you hadn't left, whispered the dark voice in his head.

"Can we maybe talk tomorrow...?" he rubbed his temples, "I'm - I'm tired."

“Of course,” Shmi responded and it was everything Obi-Wan needed to almost flee to his room.

He sat down heavily on the bed, disposing his crutches at the end of it before running a shaky hand over his too short hair. His fingers clenched around the short strands, trying to pull on it but finally finding nothing to latch onto.

Letting out a frustrated growl, Obi-Wan dropped his hand and stared daggers into the darkness instead, his eyes beginning to sting again.

It felt like only yesterday that he had been sitting here with his father. Or how his mother had sat smiling in the chair at his desk, the sunlight bathing her blonde hair in a golden hue.

The longer he thought about it, the more he realized how much his memory of his parents was threatening to fade. He had taken a photo of them with him after they had died - but now it was useless to him.

Besides, he had had to leave it behind in the temple - along with many other things that meant something to him.

Absently, Obi-Wan finally loosened the clasps of his prosthetic and slowly detached it from his stump, wincing as the cool evening air touched the irritated skin.

He deposited his leg on the floor beside the bed before lying down, his head landing heavily on the pillow. His back pinched uncomfortably and he would have liked to remove the back brace as well but he knew that he was not allowed to.

Even though he knew he would find no rest, he eventually closed his eyes, letting himself be dragged under.

This time it wasn't a nightmare that haunted him, but a memory.

The Force was gone, but he still felt the dark presence that had settled over the room. His arms jerked in the restraints, his shoulders aching from the strain.

A cynical voice spoke to him - no, not just any voice, the Chancellor. The Chancellor was there, threatening him.

He wants Anakin .

Obi-Wan shivered involuntarily, fear making itself known.

Obi-Wan licked his chapped and bloodied lips. "If it's him you want... then why am I here?"

"Because it is you who stands in my way."

He had given a snippy reply and that was all it took. Suddenly he found himself hanging from his neck, desperately struggling to breathe.

The pieces clicked together like a puzzle.

The Force. Someone was choking him with the Force. Palpatine.

Palpatine was using the Force.

Palpatine is the Sith Lord .

Obi-Wan shot up with a scream that died on his lips. Still caught in shock, he realized too late that he was falling, having moved so much that he had rolled out of bed.

With a loud crack, his shoulder collided with the hard wooden floor and at the same moment he felt the pop as his shoulder joint gave way. The pain barely registered, as terror began to settle deep inside him.

Palpatine is the Sith Lord.

Chapter Text

Coruscant

Anakin paced nervously back and forth in his small cell - he already called it his - rubbing a hand over the beard that had grown in his time being here. He wouldn't be lying if he said he was yearning for a shave.

The beard itched.

Increasingly, he wondered how Obi-Wan could stand it.

Obi-Wan.

He didn't know how long it had been since he disappeared. Weeks. Maybe even months.  When the guards had taken him from the infirmary, he had screamed and fought, had demanded answers.

Of course, he hadn't gotten any.

Instead, they'd taken him to a dark part of the prison - which he was sure wasn't legal - and thrown him into this little box with no windows, sealing the door behind them.

That was the last time Anakin had had human contact.

A droid periodically pushed a tray of water and ration bars through a small crack in the door. In a desperate attempt, he had once tried to grab the droid with his hands - without success, of course.

In response, they had turned off the light in his box, leaving him in darkness.

It had started to get to him. The confinement, the darkness.

Absently, Anakin wondered if this was how Obi-Wan constantly felt.

For perhaps the first time in years, he had even tried to meditate. But the Force slipped through his fingers as if it were unnaturally distant.

Either there were force dampeners built into the walls - or they were mixing something into his food. Neither was something he could do anything about.

He was constantly hungry and thirsty. He didn't have the strength to spurn his meals.

Pulling at his hair, Anakin finally sat down on the thin mattress on the floor that served as his bed.

The thing stank - just like the rest of the cell - but over time he had become accustomed to it.

I would kill for a shower - and a little light.

Sitting here in the dark made him realize more and more what he had done to Obi-Wan. How dependent you are on your eyes - what it does to your mind when suddenly there was nothing there.

He missed them all.

Padme. Ahsoka. Obi-Wan.

A single tear, hot and stinging, ran down his cheek and Anakin absently wiped it away, ignoring how the touch hurt his face.

He deserved all of this.

I am a monster.

Suddenly there were footsteps in the hallway - am I hallucinating? - and his cell was torn open, a group of guards rushing in without a word.

"Hey, what...," he started as they roughly took hold of his limbs, wrestling his arms behind his back before putting him in binders.

Neither of them spoke as they pulled him out of the cell, dragging him to force-knows-where. Anakin tried to struggle to break free, but one of the guards just laughed, unceremoniously kicking his legs away.

They didn't let him get up again, instead dragging him across the filthy floor.

He could barely see where they were taking him, the lights of the corridors burning painfully in his eyes.

Are they going to kill me now? What had happened?

The Force wasn't coming back to him, no matter how hard he tried.

So it was the blasted food.

The guards dragged him into a room where there was nothing more than two chairs and a table made of shiny metal. Without much ado, they hoisted him onto one of the chairs and tied his hands to the backrest.

Anakin growled as they tried to secure his legs to the chair as well, and kicked one of the men hard.

He missed, of course, and sooner than he wanted to admit, he could no longer move his legs.

"What's the meaning of this?" he barked, straining against his bonds.

The guards left the room without a word and closed the door behind them.

Anakin stared at the blank wall with his breath rattling in his chest  and wondered what was going on. He tried to calm himself and then closed his eyes, concentrating on letting air into his lungs. When his heart stopped threatening to jump out of his chest, he opened his eyes again and sat up for the first time after being dragged out of his room.

He was dirty. The jumpsuit he was wearing was now more tan than orange and his hair was matted - and itchy.

"I could help you out of your situation, you know boy?" a voice suddenly said, making him snap his head up.

His eyes settled on the dirty smile of Chancellor Palpatine and his blood froze in his veins.

"What do you want?" he choked out, his windpipe constricting.

Palpatine studied him as if he were a small child. "I would have thought that the Jedi - or rather Master Kenobi - would have taught you better manners. I should no longer be surprised that this man is a complete disappointment."

The words grated on Anakin's nerves. "I save my good manners for the people who have earned my respect, Chancellor."

The politician's eyes narrowed. "Bold words for someone in your position, don't you think?"

Anakin straightened up on his chair as much as he could. "Don't think I don't have you figured out."

"It took you long enough," Palpatine huffed, the malicious grin returning to his face, "Tell me, how many times has your master tried to warn you about me?"

Too many times. Damn it, Obi-Wan why didn't you stand your ground?

"Let my master out of this."

Palpatine leaned back in his chair, folding his arms in the sleeves of his robe. "I thought you might be worried about the old man," he said nonchalantly, "You two were so close, weren't you?"

He tilted his head, his gaze burning on Anakin's skin. "Until you took his eyes out," he continued amused, "I must say I'm really proud of you, cutting yourself free like that-."

 „Stop,“ he snapped, his voice rough, „Just stop.“

"This hatred. Maybe I should have locked you two in a cell a little longer after all."

"I. Don't. Hate. Obi-Wan," Anakin grunted, his fingers curling into fists.

He had just never shown him.

"He was holding you back, boy," Palpatine argued undeterred, "Don't you see how much potential you have? How much you can still learn from me?"

Amber eyes stared back at him.

"I will never join you," he countered, swallowing his nervousness.

Palpatine chuckled and stood up from his seat, circling the table like a predator leering on his prey. He came to a stop behind Anakin's chair, leaning forward. "Maybe you need a little motivation," he whispered directly into his ear, making him jerk his head to the side, "A demonstration of what you've caused."

The Sith produced a datapad from his robes and placed it on the table in front of him. His cold hands wrapped around Anakin's head, pinning him in place.

A shiver ran down his spine.

"I want you to take a good look at this," Palpatine whispered, "And remember, you could have prevented this."

With a click, the datapad screen activated.

It showed a recording from a surveillance camera. Anakin stared at the metal table on which an all-too-familiar figure coming into the frame..

Obi-Wan.

He looked awful. There were cuts and bruises covering every inch of his body; a bloody bandage wrapped around one of his forearms.

And someone had dared to shave off his hair, leaving only an uneven buzz cut of the ginger hair.

Palpatine's fingers carded almost gently through his hair and if he could he would have pulled away.

But he couldn't.

His master was barely conscious when the droids pulled him between them before throwing him onto the table and restraining him with metal straps. The recording was of poor quality, but Anakin could see Obi-Wan trying to writhe as they pinned him down, face contorted in pain. One of the droids fixed what looked like electrodes to his head.

The droids finally stepped back and an unfamiliar woman in a lab coat stepped forward, first running a hand over Obi-Wan's temple and then sliding her finger down to his knees.

The video had no sound, but the woman seemed to be commanding the droids while squeezing Obi-Wan's legs almost tenderly. His friend was shaking violently, trying to pull away.

The scientist laughed as she seemed to realize this as well and stepped up to his head again, whispering something in his ear with a grin as she ran her fingers through his beard.

As she did so, the droids re-entered the frame, each of them carrying what looked like a heavy sledgehammer.

"No," Anakin gasped helplessly, watching as they positioned themselves around Obi-Wan's legs.

Palpatine chuckled next to his ear. "You should know best what the punishment is for a slave who tried to escape."

A choking lump formed in his throat.

Masters usually broke a slave's leg - twisted it just to be sure that they would never walk normally again.

"I see you understand what I mean," the Sith grinned, "Kenobi here almost made it, you know? Until his comrades betrayed him - dumped him like a piece of trash."

In the video, the droids raised their hammers.

"They left him right outside their ship - unable to move, in pain."

The hammers came down on Obi-Wan's exposed legs.

I'm so sorry, Obi-Wan.

"How do you think it feels when everyone betrays you?" Palpatine asked nonchalantly, "Your comrades, your family..."

The droids continued even as the legs had lost their natural shape.

Anakin forced his eyes closed, tears burning on his skin.

A cold finger removed the tears almost fatherly. "Now, now, you don't need to cry, my boy," Palpatine soothed with mock sympathy, "You have the fate of your friends in your hands. Join me and nothing will happen to them."

He opened his eyes again, settling them on the paused video recording.

They had finally let go of Obi-Wan, leaving him unconscious on the table.

"Did you kill him?" he croaked softly.

"I didn't kill him. But I'm afraid Arbor was a little too enthusiastic with her experiments..."

Arbor. Somewhere that name sounded familiar to him.

A deep sadness clutched at his heart, tearing out something viciously.

"You're a monster...," he whispered, trying to remember all the beautiful moments he and Obi-Wan had shared, ".... A fucking monster."

There was no anger left inside him - only defeat.

"You call me a monster, even though it was you who pushed Kenobi first?" indulged Palpatine, "I only finished what you started."

The Sith leaned forward again. "You are a monster, Anakin Skywalker."

I know.

He had mercilessly exploited Obi-Wan's gentleness, had taken his heart, torn it out, crushed it and then stuffed it back in.

And yet the man had been there at the end. Holding out his hand.

"You couldn't save him," Palpatine continued, "But your wife, your Padawan. They still can. All you have to do is join me."

No. Never.

"Over my dead body."

Palpatine stepped back to the other side of the table, a scowl on his face. "Then be sure their blood will be on your hands as well."

"...Don't you dare touch them," Anakin sneered, once again struggling helplessly against his bonds.

"You had your chance, Anakin," the Sith replied unperturbed and called the guards back into the room with a wave of his hand, "Take him back to his cell."

Anakin squirmed, trying to break free as they lifted him from the chair and replaced his bindings. "Don't touch me!" he yelled, swinging wide to hit just about anything.

A baton hit him hard in the face in response, breaking his nose effortlessly.

His vision blurred as he tried to gasp for air, choking on the blood pooling in his throat. He barely registered that the guards had already started dragging him along, his mind hazy.

That only sunk in when he suddenly was flung forward, his face smacking against the metal floor of his cell. The door closed behind him with a bang, sealing him in darkness again.

Anakin tried to get to his feet, bloodied fingers scraping over the ground – trying to find purchase. A warm liquid kept running down his face, hitting the floor with a silent drip.

The metallic taste made him gag, but there was nothing left in his stomach.

He crawled to the door on all fours, pushing himself up against it.

"Let me out!" he roared, slamming his upper body against it.

He howled as he continued to beat himself against the door - but it wouldn't budge.

There was no one there to hear him.

Energy spent, he sank to his knees, pressing his head against the door.

You brought this on yourself, Anakin.

He had no tears left.

Chapter Text

Their quarters were exactly as she had left them. The teacups neatly stacked next to the sink, the datapads scattered on the coffee table - it was almost as if they had never been gone.

But the dust that had started to collect told a different story. Just like the echoes in the Force that slowly began to fade away.

Her heart aching, Ahsoka tiptoed through the apartment, letting her eyes roam over the remnants of her past.

She had snuck into the temple, even though she didn't really have to. But she needed a little time to herself. To collect the things she wanted to take with her.

Her fingers tightened around the bag she was carrying over her shoulders as she pushed open the door to her room. The first thing that caught her eye were all the pictures she had taped to the wall above her bed.

Each of them felt like it had been taken a whole lifetime ago.

Ahsoka padded over to the bed, carefully plugging one of the pictures of the wall.

It showed her and Anakin on Christophsis, staring daggers at each other. Captain Rex had taken this picture while Ahsoka had told her master that she was to be his Padawan.

You're stuck with me, Skyguy.

Things had been different then.

She put the picture down on the bed, refocusing on the remaining ones on the wall.

There was another just showing Anakin and Obi-Wan. The two men were standing in the kitchen.  Anakin grimaced apologetically as he held the frying pan out to his master, with a charred something in it, while her grandmaster stood across from him, a steaming cup of tea in his hands and an exasperated look on his face.

"I swear, I was just trying to make pancakes like you always do!"

"Anakin, using R2's rockets to cook isn't how this works..."

She let the image slide onto the one she had already taken down and swallowed hard.

It was too much to bear.

Using the Force, she grabbed the remaining pictures and plucked them off the wall before letting them float to her outstretched hand. Not daring to think about it any longer, Ahsoka gathered all the pictures and stacked them into a neat pile before sliding them into her backpack.

Ahsoka turned away from the now empty wall and let her eyes wander through the rest of the room. On the shelf next to the door, the picture of Alderaan and the river stone Anakin had once given her still stood.

Something that connects our lineage.

She grabbed both and shoved it deep into her bag. There was hardly had anything else. Her lightsabers hung off her belt, the crystals constantly humming with melancholy.

Ahsoka lingered in her room a moment longer, before she forced out a breath and stepped back into the living room.

Her master's room was still locked, the door acting like a mental barrier - keeping her from thinking about the man who was supposed to lead her to knighthood.

She kept away from his room.

Instead, she turned to her grandmaster’s room, where the door still stood ajar as it had been the last time, revealing the few boxes he had packed.

Quietly, Ahsoka padded in, reaching out for a moment to the presence that still lingered inside the room.

Where there had once been joy now hung dark shadows, sadness and pain.

Biting her lip Ahsoka quickly hid from these feelings before they could overwhelm her.

Her eyes fell on a wooden box that had been neatly placed on the desk. Before she could think about it, her fingers latched under the lid and carefully opened the box.

Inside were more small tins and two lightsabers. One painfully familiar, the other a weapon she did not recognize.

Ahsoka took out Obi-Wan's lightsaber, running her finger over the small scratches on the surface.

The kyber crystal hummed a quiet song, saddened by the absence of its guardian.

He would certainly like to have it back.

Resolutely, she clipped the hilt to her belt before turning to the other lightsaber.

She had an idea who this weapon must belong to - or rather had belonged to.

The man Anakin worshipped. The man Obi-Wan never spoke of.

Qui-Gon Jinn.

Ahsoka had no opinion of the deceased Jedi Master. To her, he was an unsolved mystery.

How was it possible that the two people who were so important to her had such different reactions when it came to Master Jinn? While one person's eyes lit up, the other's filled with pain and sorrow.

Maybe this was a similar expression she now wore when thinking of her own master.

Next to the remaining lightsaber was a small box with a clear lid, revealing a braid of ginger hair.

Ahsoka gasped as she realized what it was. "Master Obi-Wan's padawan braid..."

It hurt to see the braid lying here, knowing that her grandmaster had never had the chance to present it to his Master. Instead, it lay here now, locked in a dark box – forgotten.

She also knew that Anakin had not given his braid to Obi-Wan - perhaps the first painful reminder of their broken relationship. Instead, the box - like this one in front of her eyes - was sitting on a desk in Padme's apartment.

Did Anakin even realize what he had done?

If the Padawan withheld the braid from the master after the knighting, it was considered a disgrace. A sign that the student wanted to turn his back on his mentor.

In her mind's eye, Ahsoka could almost see her grandmaster's smile drop when Anakin must not have handed over the braid during the ceremony.

Swallowing hard, she tore herself away from that thought.

There was another small, delicately crafted box in the box. Whatever it was, it called out in the Force.

With suddenly trembling fingers, she lifted it out of the box, hesitating for a moment to open it. It felt like she was intruding, but then again, the Force was almost beckoning for her to go on.

She eventually opened the box. Her heart dropped when she saw what was inside.

A ring - an engagement ring.

"Oh master...," she croaked, tears stinging her eyes as she took out the fine silver ring. Like the figure on Stewjon, there was a strong memory attached to it.

Ahsoka let herself be drawn in.

"...I don't know what to do, Dex," Obi-Wan muttered, staring absently into the glass of whiskey in his hands before taking another generous swig, emptying the glass in one go.

Grimacing as the alcohol burned down his throat, he set the glass down on the counter in front of him.

"How about you stop drinking for now," Dex grumbled beside him, pushing the glass aside and shooing the waiting bartender away, "...and tell me what's going on."

The Besalisk twisted around on his barstool, turning to face the Jedi Master.

Instead of answering, Obi-Wan pulled the small box from his pocket, putting it on the counter right in between them. His eyes found the wall of alcohol behind the counter again.

"What's this?" the cook asked.

"Just open it."

Obi-Wan continued to avoid his friend's gaze as he took the box, opening it carefully.

He heard the soft click, followed by a moment of silence.

"Oh, Obi-Wan..."

"I know it's stupid-," he began, but was interrupted by a meaty hand on his arm.

"No, it's not," Dex countered amicably, turning his friend with his hand so that Obi-Wan had to look at him and firmly pressed the box with the ring into the other man's palm with his other hand, "You love her, don't you?"

Obi-Wan pressed his lips into a thin line. "I am a Jedi, Dex...."

"That wasn't my question."

"...I do," the Jedi Master breathed softly, his eyes glassy, "...even if that's hard to believe."

"Why would that be hard to believe?" Dex probed, his expression growing concerned.

"I have been told that I am incapable of such emotion...," Obi-Wan offered, stealing the glass back from Dex and having another whiskey refilled, "...obviously nothing even resembling affectation."

He took a large sip, sadly eyeing the engagement ring in his hand.

"Did Anakin say that?"

Obi-Wan sighed. "I don't think that's what he meant... besides, it's not important."

Dex shakes his head in disbelief. "Of course it's relevant! He hurt you with his words."

Letting the engagement ring disappear back into his pocket, Obi-Wan stood up from his chair. "... I should get home... Anakin and Ahsoka should be back from their mission today."

"Oh no, forget it," Dex also jumped up and grabbed the Jedi's arm again, "You stay with me today, you hear? I'll make you something sensible to eat, you'll sober up and then we'll talk as adults."

"I'm not a child, Dex," Obi-Wan stated firmly, setting his jaw, "Let me go."

"I'm worried about you," countered the Besalisk, "Maybe you don't want to see it, but you need help, Obi-Wan. You are pushing yourself too far and I'm afraid you stumble over the cliff one day and there's no one there to catch you. So please, let me help you - as your friend."

With that, he let go of Obi-Wan's arm and took a small step back, waiting for a reaction.

The Jedi Master stood unmoving beside him. "I don't want to drag you into this."

"So you want me to watch you go down a path you won't come back from? Forget it."

Obi-Wan turned his head, watching Dex with reddened eyes. "Why do you care?"

It was disheartening, seeing him like this.

"Why shouldn't I? ...You're my friend. And I know you would never hesitate if I needed your help."

Casting his eyes to the floor, Obi-Wan hummed quietly in response.

Dex gently placed his hand on his friend's shoulder, beginning to steer him out of the bar. "Come on. Let's go back to the diner."

There was no more protest and Obi-Wan resignedly let himself be pushed out the door, stopping only when his feet met the sidewalk. "What do you think she'd say?", he rambled quietly, "With the war and all... we haven't seen each other in person in years."

"Don't sell yourself so low, Obi-Wan," Dex said honestly, "I've seen you two together. I think she would say yes in a heartbeat."

A small smile pulled at Obi-Wan's lips, even if it didn't reach his eyes. "But is it the right thing to do? Isn't it selfish?"

"It's your life. No one can force you to stay or do anything you don't want to do."

Except that they could. As they had bitterly experienced with the Rako Hardeen mission.

She closed the little box again with a pit in her stomach. Obi-Wan and Satine had never gotten a chance together.

The Force urged her to take the ring, so she carefully placed the box in her bag as well.

She then closed the wooden box with a soft clack, exhaling a breath she didn't realize she had been holding.

Ahsoka scanned through the remaining cardboard boxes, finding mostly datapads, some clothes and some old books printed on flimsi. Only in the last box did she find something that made her stop.

A holocube, some printed pictures like the ones she had hanging on her wall - and a larger framed picture that looked very old.

Ahsoka knew immediately who she saw there. Obi-Wan, still small, together with his parents.

Did he take this from the house?

His father looked so damn much like him. The beard, the red hair, the smile - it was all there. Only his eyes, Obi-Wan got them from his mother.

It was hard for her to imagine losing her parents like that. Maybe it was like a protection for her - not knowing her parents at all.

Even though she knew that Obi-Wan could no longer see the pictures, she took them all with her.

They are his after all.

And he had never gotten the chance to get his things.

The rest of the room was mostly bare now, only on the bedside table sat the small fox figurine she already knew.

Ahsoka grabbed a small towel and wrapped the finely crafted figure in it before stowing it safely in her backpack.

"Okay....," she muttered to herself, "I think I'm done here."

Her stomach still churning, she left her grandmaster's room, a heavy weight having settled on her shoulders.

As she stepped over the threshold, it suddenly felt like a storm was coming down on her. Her breath was stolen from her lungs and all of a sudden Ahsoka found herself on her knees, holding her head.

The Force screamed.

And Ahsoka screamed with it, though her voice was drowned out by the alarms that were going off in the temple.

So many lights - snuffed out as if they were nothing.

The Padawan crawled on all fours over to the window, trying to figure out what was going on.

She couldn't understand what she was seeing - maybe my mind was playing tricks on me.

The clones were storming the temple.

Chapter Text

Ahsoka backed away from the window, perplexed, her mind racing.

This can not be real. Thiscannnotbehappening.

Struggling to catch her breath, Ahsoka pulled herself up on the small coffee table, almost tripping over her own feet.

She couldn't form a clear thought.

There was so much fear, despair - and death - in the Force. It hurt just to think.

Her stomach suddenly tightened painfully and she found herself retching onto the floor, halfway slung over the couch table.

I have to get out of here.

With shaky legs, she finally stood up, dragging herself over to the door. She put her hand against the door panel but nothing happened.

The power had been cut.

The floor rocked as an explosion went off somewhere beneath her and Ahsoka barely caught herself on the wall before she could fall.

Despite all the battles she had already fought at her young age - this scared her.

And there was no one here for her.

No Anakin. No Obi-Wan.

Ahsoka’s fingers grasped at the lightsabers hanging from her belt. Her heart threatening to jump out of her chest she pulled it free and activated the green blade.

She had to cut her way free.

Just as she reached out to push through the door, she heard a commotion in the corridor.

There were desperate shouts, followed by blaster fire and screams.

Then there was silence.

Swallowing hard, Ahsoka stepped back from the door, the humming of her blade the only sound to break the silence.

Synchronized footsteps moved along the corridor again before they stopped in front of the door.

They know I am here.

Cursing silently, Ahsoka scrambled back into Master Obi-Wan's room, which was farthest from the front door, and closed the door as quietly as she could.

"...open the door," came the cold command from outside and not a moment later Ahsoka heard the soldiers throwing themselves against the door.

Why are they hunting us? What have we done?

The men I know would never hurt anyone of us.

Ahsoka backed away as far as she could and listened intently.

They hadn't broken through the door yet, judging by the loud banging sound.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Their rhythm was in sync with her heart beating in her throat.

Her eyes fell once more on the wooden box on Obi-Wan's desk.

Master Jinn's lightsaber.

Maybe she would still need it. Wasting no time, she grabbed the whole box and shoved it into her backpack with the rest of her things.

There was a loud bang as they managed to break their door. Ahsoka forced her breathing under control and drew both of her lightsabers, not yet activating the blades.

It was disturbing – witnessing how the clones moved with deadly efficiency. The metal of the hilts dug into her palms as she tightened her grip.

With her montrals she picked up on five presences right outside the door that led to her hiding space.

It can only be seconds before they find me.

Crouching down, Ahsoka got into position. She didn't want to kill the men, but she knew she had to if she wanted to get out of here alive.

Another explosion below her shook the temple again, making her blood run cold.

As if through a fog, she witnessed what happened next. Two clones burst through the door of the room, blasters raised - and Ahsoka just moved, igniting her sabers with a roar.

Her green blade sliced through the first blaster with a hiss and a well-aimed kick sent the clone in front of her stumbling into his comrade,  clearing her way into the living room. She leaped over both downed men, parrying the first laser bolts that sailed towards her.

At first she simply tried to deflect the bolts, but as the fire became more focused and she found herself at her limit, she made a difficult decision. She redirected the bolts back to the shooter.

Ahsoka winced as the blue bolt hit the trooper in front of her in the chest and another small light disappeared in the Force. The remaining two men didn't care about their fallen brother. They moved on with mechanical efficiency, intent on eliminating her.

Her arms burned as she continued to defend herself against the onslaught and she knew they wouldn't be able to hold out much longer. Besides, it was only a matter of time before reinforcements would arrive.

Gritting her teeth, Ahsoka still reached out to the Force and grabbed the two soldiers in a last ditch effort - throwing them against the wall with all the strength she could muster.

She immediately began to run, even as the image of the clone's twisted neck burned in the back of her mind. Ahsoka skidded out into the hallway, immediately starting to cough as smoke tried to make its way into her mouth and nose.

The temple is burning.

Her eyes first found the many corpses littering the floor - Masters, Knights and Padawans... even the younglings - and then the squad of soldiers rounding the corner.

Ahsoka began to run in the opposite direction, leaping over debris and lifeless bodies at the same time. Another explosion tried to bring her to her knees, but by sheer force of will Ahsoka stayed on her feet, pressing forward.

As she leapt down a flight of stairs, she collided with a familiar presence.

"Master Plo...," she gasped, taking in the battered form of the Kel'Dor master.

"...Ahsoka," the Jedi Master gasped, leaning forward as he held himself up against a wall. He kept one hand pressed against his stomach, but Ahsoka could see the blood trying to squeeze its way out between his fingers.

"You're hurt," Ahsoka sputtered wide-eyed, her fingers uselessly hovering over the man's injury.

Plo did not pay her words much mind. "You need to get out of here, dear...," he croaked, the words obviously costing him much strength, "The chanc'llor... he h's taken ov'r." The Jedi Master started to fall over in front, but Ahsoka caught him before he could hit the ground.

"Master, I don't understand...," she muttered desperately, holding the man close.

Drawing in a wet breath, her friend twisted in her arms. "Palp'tine h's turn'd the cl'nes 'gainst us," he slurred through bloodied lips.

Though before the words could register, there was another explosion. But this one was close.

Plo was ripped from her arms and her body was sent flying. Fire licked at her skin and she found herself smashing against wall remnants and other debris before she got stuck between some panels.

Ahsoka groaned as she wriggled out of the confined space, her fingers slick with her own blood. Stunned, she crawled forward on all fours before slowly pulling herself up. Blood rushed to her eyes as she looked up, but still she understood what she saw.

The sky.

They had blown up the temple.

"Master...," the words fell from her lips, "Master!"

No one answered.

Stumbling through the debris field, Ahsoka tried to find survivors, but found no one.

She somehow managed to pull herself onto the stairs that had once led up to the temple. Her legs gave way beneath her and her knees hit the hard stone, but she was too numb to feel the pain.

Behind her, columns of black smoke rose up into the sky, turning the day into a pitch-black night.

Her body began to move without her giving the command. Stumbling, she somehow made it down the stairs without being spotted, taking quick steps away from the temple.

I have to get away from here.

With a retching sound, Anakin choked up what little food had made it into his stomach, holding his head with a pain-wracked face as it continued to throb.

Even though they were trying to cut him off from the Force, he sensed something was wrong.

It was as if a flaming inferno was going through the Force, accompanied by loud screams. It was nauseating.

With difficulty, he pulled himself back to his feet, focusing on the steel door in front of him.

Ahsoka. Obi-Wan. Padme.

He had to get out of here. If he wanted to live, he had to get out of here now. Gritting his teeth, he raised his trembling hand and called for the Force.

It wanted to slip away from his grasp, as if he was trying to reach something through a wall. A metallic smell filled the air and Anakin felt something sticky run out of his nose.

"Come on," he growled, concentrating harder and ignoring the white specks that were appearing in his field of vision.

With a roar, he gave it everything he had to  and was rewarded with a bang as the door lock shattered. Anakin sank to his knees, coughing and spitting out something indistinct, before stumbling towards the door.

The two troopers in front of the door noticed his approach too late and Anakin managed to overpower the two men before they could raise the alarm. His body was still screaming with exertion, the time of lack of nutrition and sleep deprivation dragging him down. And then there were the aches from his last encounter with Palpatine, or rather Sidious.

Anakin tried to take a deep breath, but it wouldn't come through his blood-clogged nose. The pounding in his head reached new heights, but he forced the feeling to the back of his mind.

He grabbed one of the dropped blasters and limped down the hallway, trying to figure out how to get out.

He had maybe minutes before they realized he'd broken out.

And then Sidious will come for me.

The thought sent shivers down his spine and Anakin dragged himself forward with newfound vigor. He rounded a corner when he spotted a narrow staircase leading upwards.

Holding his blaster at the ready, he began the ascent, listening intently for any noise. Surprised, he found no one at the top of the stairs.

Where is everyone?

Didn't they think I could escape?

The thought gnawed at his pride, but he didn't have time to dwell on it now.

Putting one foot in front of the other, he walked through the next deserted corridor. Rust collected on the metal plates on the walls and the light above his head flickered irregularly.

Wherever he was, it was far down.

His irritated eyes spied a barely legible sign.

Morgue.

The report of Obi-Wan's undercover mission popped up again in his mind's eye. How he and the other criminals had escaped via this very room.

He still couldn't help but feel betrayed, feel used. Anger wanted to flare up in him again, even though he knew it wasn't right.

“Obi-Wan did not want to accept the mission.“

“What are you talking about?”

“Your master refused to go on this mission. But the chancellor forced our hand. We had the choice between sending Obi-Wan onto this mission or facing repercussions for the Jedi order.”

…

„You are a monster, Anakin Skywalker.“

He silently followed the sign until he reached a door, which he managed to push open with some difficulty. Behind it, he spotted a kind of control room and the familiar chutes that held the coffins. Everything looked as if it hadn't been used for years.

He just had to power the panels again.

With practiced fingers, he then quickly removed the cover from one of the devices, only to find that the cables behind it were completely scorched.

"Blast," Anakin cursed, smashing the piece of metal to the floor before wincing as he realized how loud the noise had been.

He listened tensely for a moment.

Only silence.

Breathing a sigh of relief and reprimanding himself for his imprudence, he looked around for an alternative. His gaze fell on the chutes, which were closed with a kind of lock.

Maybe I can bend it open.

Anakin climbed onto the slide and wedged his prosthesis between the two metal plates, pulling with all his might. The movement hurt his stump, but he could feel the metal slowly giving way, so he continued.

With a groan, one of the plates came loose, revealing the dark shaft behind it.

Face contorted, Anakin gazed into the blackness.

I don't know how Obi-Wan managed that.

Finally, he forced himself through the small opening and slowly slithered down the rather steep descent, his fingers chafing against the rough walls.

He made it down in one piece with much effort, climbing out of the pipe as the alarm above him went off.

Anakin couldn't help but grin. "Too late, you gundarks."

The room he had arrived in was equally deserted and he had an easy time picking the rather outdated lock on the door and entering the small courtyard beyond.

Letting his gaze wander around, he realized that he must be in the lower levels. Probably a disused part of the prison.

And they didn't think it was necessary to guard this way, as no one should be kept down there.

The only thing separating him from his freedom now was a wall about two meters high. If he could use the Force, he would have simply jumped over - but if he was honest, he felt drained and he no longer had the energy to break through the Force suppressants again.

His headache was still making him dizzy and his broken nose was making it harder to breathe with every second of exertion.

With the last of his strength, he gripped the edge of the wall with his fingers and tried to pull himself up, using his feet to push himself off the rough concrete. After half an eternity, his hands finally found purchase and he rolled rather than climbed over the wall.

He landed awkwardly on the other side and felt his ankle twist painfully on impact.

Drawing in a sharp breath, Anakin leaned briefly against the wall, nursing his hurting limb. The alarm still blared deafeningly above him and as he looked up at the sky, he saw something that worried him deeply.

A column of black smoke.

It took him a moment to realize what lay in that direction.

„The temple," Anakin sputtered in shock and hastily pushed himself away from the wall, nearly stumbling as he began to run. On his way, he grabbed a poncho from one of the many stalls, ignoring the vendor shouting angrily after him, and threw it on, effectively hiding his prison jumpsuit and his battered appearance.

He didn't know how long he ran, but he had almost reached the temple - or rather what was left of it - when he bumped into someone more than familiar.

"Ahsoka...," he mumbled in bewilderment as he collected himself a little, taking in her bloodied and beaten form, "...what?"

His Padawan trembled all over and looked towards him with a lost expression. "...master?" she whispered, her voice laced with disbelief.

Anakin dropped to his knees in front of his Padawan, gently placing his hands on her arms. "...what's going on here, Ahsoka?" he asked hoarsely.

The smoke from the temple continued to burn in his eyes.

Her blue eyes spoke volumes, but he couldn't understand... "... you don't feel it?" the teenager croaked.

Anakin shook his head in despair. "They drugged me...," he tried to explain, even though the words failed him, "I... I can barely reach the Force."

Ahsoka sobbed and lowered her head, a tear falling from her face. "They're dead... all of them."

Chapter Text

Anakin held his Padawan a little closer, beginning to slowly lead them away from the chaos.

They're dead... all of them.

"It's okay, I've got you...," he spoke softly, soothing words, even as he did not feel them in the slightest.

He wouldn't pretend that everything was like it used to be between them - it never would be. But now they only had each other, whether they liked it or not.

Pulling the girl into a side alley, he asked a question that had been burning itself into his brain for weeks - maybe even months. "Ahsoka, do you know where Obi-Wan is?"

The girl took in a laboured breath and nodded. "Yes... he's- he's not here."

Relief washed over him.

"Thank the Force," he breathed, "... they told me that he died during-," the words got stuck in his throat, "during whatever they did to him in that facility."

"He almost did," Ahsoka pulled away from him, absently scratching at the blood on her arms, "...he still could."

Anakin tried to catch her gaze. "Are you hurt?" He took note of every cut and bump that littered her body.

"No, I- ," his Padawan turned away briefly, the burning temple reflecting in her eyes, "...just a couple of scrapes and bruises."

"Okay, that's good...," he tried to reach for but she took a step away from him, making him halt his movement, "... I am not going to hurt you."

"How am I supposed to trust you?" Ahsoka turned back to him, her eyes shining with unshed tears, "After everything that's happened… after everything you did.“

Anakin's legs gave way and he fell to his knees. He barely felt the pebbles make their way under his skin. "I'm sorry, you hear me?" he pleaded, "I know I can't undo anything and damn it, I hate myself every day for what I've done... but you have to trust me now, please." Tears welled up in his eyes as he knelt there, one trembling arm outstretched to his Padawan - no not anymore.

"Did you know he was afraid of me?" Ahsoka breathed sharply, her silhouette grotesquely illuminated by the flames behind her, "Of me, Anakin. You tormented him so much that he couldn't recognize me. He begged for them to stop."

She clenched her teeth. "And there was nothing I could do. He could not sense me - and he could not see me. If he hadn't given me Satine's necklace before, I don't know what he would have done to himself."

A tear dripped onto the asphalt in front of her. "And that's your fault."

He heard footsteps in the distance.

Again, he forced himself to his feet, stumbling in Ahaoka's direction. "I swear, I will never harm any of you again.... But we have to get out of here, Ahsoka. Now."

Her eyes narrowed and her hands clenched into fists as she jutted her chin up at him. "If you think that's the end of it, you're wrong," she hissed, "You destroyed us. And why? Because you were too blind to see the truth. You threw everything away because you can't even listen for a moment!"

Ahsoka shoved him away from her and he barely managed to stay on his feet as his sore ankle gave way. Her words hurt, but he knew they were the truth.

He didn't have time to reply as a squad of clones rounded the corner, but he also knew the words would have been stuck in his throat either way. Instead, he quickly grabbed Ahsoka's wrist and pulled her along, barely avoiding the blaster bolts that whistled past his ears.

She could hate him. But he wouldn't leave her behind.

Never again.

Blindly, he fired his blaster backwards, wincing inwardly as he heard one of the men fall in response.

Anakin dashed on, leading them through many winding alleys before finally arriving at a familiar diner.

"Dex!" he bellowed pulling Ahsoka away from the windows and ignoring how the guests stared at him in shock and some of them left the room in a hurry.

The chef entered the room barely a moment later, weapon carefully hidden behind his apron. His eyes widened. "You...," he murmured when he recognized him.

Exhaustion began to pull at his bones. „Please... we need your help...," he panted, "... we need to get out of here."

Dex didn't lower his weapon, but eyed Ahsoka instead. "You okay, kid?"

The teen took a moment to gather her breath. "Yes...," she finally replied, "...but he's right, Dex. We have to leave Coruscant immediately... the clones, they- they are hunting us."

It seemed as if the Besalisk finally understood what was going on. "The smoke...," he muttered in disbelief.

" ... is coming from the Jedi Temple," Anakin finished for him, eyeing him with despair.

The other man finally lowered his blaster, ushering them into the kitchen. "The ship we used to get here is in the lower docks," he murmured, still meeting Anakin with distrust, "You can have it."

"What about you?" Ahsoka asked worriedly.

Dex gave her a toothy grin. "I'll be fine. If they wanted something from me, they'd have shown up here by now."

His Padawan was less than convinced, but didn't comment on it. Instead, the Besalisk raised one of his arms, inviting her to come closer.

Anakin was surprised that there was no hesitation. The girl almost melted in his embrace and it somehow hurt to see that.

The trust.

It's all your fault.

"Take care of yourself, okay," Dex whispered barely audibly, "I- I can't do it again."

His expression looked pained and for a moment he clutched the girl a bit tighter before letting go of her.

I can't do it again? What is he talking about?

Anakin was lost in confusion until it finally dawned on him. "You got him out right...? Obi-Wan. You and Padme..."

Saying his wife's name hurt like being hit in the chest by a blaster bolt.

"Yes, we got him out...," Dex breathed, taking a step towards Anakin, "But it was more than close..."

Swallowing hard, he looked into the amber eyes of his counterpart. "Thank you...," he choked out, "I know my words aren't worth much, but - just thank you."

Dex's features softened ever so slightly. "Listen, Anakin. I'm not the one you need to apologize to," he inched closer so his mouth was next to his ear and whispered, "But I want you to know that if you harm a hair on any of them - I'll kill you."

A threat. One of whom Anakin knew to take seriously.

"If I ever go off the rails again...," he continued, his throat dry, "then don't hesitate."

"I never do." Dex finally moved out of his space, his signature in the Force cold as Hoth.

Anakin let his gaze dart briefly to Ahsoka, noticing how she was already peering nervously towards the windows. They were running out of time.

There was another question burning under his skin.

"Padme...," he held the cook's glare, "is she okay?"

"She is intending to leave for Naboo soon," answered the other man, "... no one tried to get to her until now."

"Good...," Anakin was more than relieved, "That's good...Will- will you have an eye out for her? I don't know when I can see her again."

For a moment, Dex did not answer, the words hanging between them like a bad omen. Anakin forced himself to take a breath, even as his chest tightened.

"I will." The reply was so quiet that Anakin barely heard it, but despite the darkness that currently surrounded them, the words rung with honesty.

"We have to go," Ahsoka suddenly hissed from her position, pointing towards a squad of clones approaching the diner.

"Go," Dex urged them in response, pointing towards a back exit, "I'll keep them busy."

Anakin had just enough time to give a silent 'thank you' in his direction before Dex disappeared back into the diner, closing the kitchen door behind him.

"Okay, let's make sure we get out of here," he muttered shortly afterwards, listening with an uneasy feeling as the troopers entered the restaurant. On quiet feet, he turned towards the back exit, only to be held back by a hand on his upper arm.

"Wait," Ahsoka whispered behind him, "...you're going to need this."

She held something out to him and it took him an alarmingly long time for his mind to take in what he was seeing.

He immediately shook his head vehemently. "No, forget it.... I can't take this."

His Padawan didn't listen to him. Instead, she pressed the silver hilt unceremoniously into his hand, closing his fingers around it.

The crystal sang with sorrow. Whether it was because of his presence or the absence of its owner, Anakin could not tell.

This weapon is your life, Anakin.

Somehow this broke something inside him and he barely suppressed a sob that escaped his throat, a hot tear escaping from his cheek.

"I'm a monster," he mumbled, squeezing his eyes shut.

By now it was like a kind of mantra for him.

"Now come," Ahsoka's fingers tugged at his poncho, oblivious to his struggle with his demons.

Anakin lowered his hand, the fabric of the poncho effectively hiding his martyrdom. His heart pounded painfully as he began to follow the teenager, caught in a daze that made him lose touch with reality.

He paid half a mind to the fact that they had started running, zapping past the silhouettes of the lower level.  His finger kept flexing around Obi-Wan's lightsaber, as if that could calm the crystal inside.

Instead, it continued to hum its mournful song, as if it had witnessed Anakin's atrocities.

If Obi-Wan had had his weapon, he probably wouldn't be blind right now.

Loud shouts snapped him back to the present and he realized at the last moment how another squad of clones had spotted them and opened fire.

They were so close and yet the docks suddenly seemed so far away. As if in slow motion, Anakin stared at the red bolt, his hand twitching to activate the lightsaber but his mind held him back.

This is not your weapon. You should not wield it.

A searing pain shot through his shoulder and he began to stumble, the floor rising up to meet him.

A hand closed around one arm and yanked him in the opposite direction - away from what could have been his end. Ahsoka had a snarl on her face as she pulled at his limb, swinging her green lightsaber with the other hand.

"Why..." he started to ask, but he couldn't get out more than a croak.

Ahsoka understood him anyway. "If I wanted to get rid of you, I would have done so already," she pressed out between clenched teeth and continued to defend him.

There was that spark of familiarity. The feeling of something he thought he had lost long ago.

Their eyes met for a moment and suddenly brought their surroundings to a standstill.

Fear. Anger. Sadness. But also forgiveness and determination.

Oh Padawan Mine.

His feet finally found their footing again, and that was enough to get him moving. His world was now spinning faster than he could follow, and the next moment he found himself on a small ship, pushing the button with all his might to close the ramp.

Ahsoka was already in front of him in the cockpit, frantically entering the coordinates before they ascended into the atmosphere.

Anakin watched silently and settled into the co-pilot's seat - he knew he wouldn't be flying today.

The blue lines of hyperspace almost blinded him, but he took them in instead, for they were a sign of freedom to him.

Another sob escaped him, and he ran a hand through his hair to rid himself of dirt and grime. „You should try to clean yourself up a bit,“ Ahsoka suggested, eyeing him from the pilot's seat, "Then I can patch up your shoulder."

He looked down at his now dirt-encrusted hand. "Yeah... maybe you're right."

With shaky knees, he stood up, leaning on the back of his seat. His eyes wandered back to the viewport. "... where are we going?"

He would have expected a lot in response, but not that.

"Stewjon."

Chapter Text

A few hours earlier

The first thing he noticed was a calloused hand feeling for a pulse on his neck. Then came the sharp pain in his shoulder and the almost numbing throbbing in his head.

"Hngh...," he made a sound in an attempt to speak but his tongue felt heavy.

"Obi-Wan?" There was a rough, masculine voice that wanted his attention.

Dex? No.

Cliegg.

Obi-Wan opened his mouth again, but Shmi's husband quietly hushed him. "Take it easy. Just try to breathe."

He couldn't.

Palpatine is the Sith Lord.

His head felt like it was going to explode and the feeling intensified with every passing second.

And the force-suppression collar burned. Almost constantly tickling with electricity.

His eyelids batted uselessly, his body trying to understand what was going on.

The roaring in his head suddenly reached new heights and Obi-Wan couldn't help but give voice to his pain.

Palpatine is the Sith Lord.

Something is not right.

Even if he didn't have access to the Force, he could still feel the agony that suddenly overshadowed it.

He screamed, hands flopping to clutch at his head.

"...iegg what's g'ing on..." fragments of a new voice reached his ear subconsciously.

That was the last thing he heard as the roar suddenly plopped and his body began to contract painfully.

He didn't know if it had been minutes or maybe even hours when he was graced with consciousness again. The only thing he was sure of was that he felt as if he had been run over by a speeder - several times.

"He's awake...," someone whispered above him and barely a moment later he heard a shuffling beside him.

"Obi-Wan?" Cliegg asked softly, carefully placing a hand on his arm.

He couldn't suppress the wince in response and winced as the jerking movement caused his pain to flare up again.

"Obi-Wan, do you understand me?"

"...y's," he eventually croaked, his throat so dry that speaking became an ordeal.

"Okay, okay... that's good," Cliegg sounded relieved, "You had a seizure. Try to lie still."

A seizure. That's a new development.

"Cliegg, we should get him to the hospital," interjected Shmi, whose voice Obi-Wan's hazy mind could finally place.

"N'o...," he mumbled, tongue not really cooperating, "No m're doct'rs pl'se."

The hand on his arm stilled.

"Obi-Wan, you can't be serious...," Shmi argued, but Cliegg intervened.

"Get me our medkit, will you? ....and my old arm sling," he ordered calculatingly.

"This is madness."

Cliegg sighed. "Just do it... please."

A moment of silence passed, but finally Obi-Wan heard Shmi turn and hurry out of the room.

"Is something hurting?" Cliegg directed his attention back to him.

"Everyth'ng," Obi-Wan slurred in response. He wanted to move, get off the cold floor, but his body was not complying.

"Do you think anything is broken?" came the next question.

Did anything feel broken?

 He did a mental check and came to the conclusion that it was primarily his right shoulder that hurt and the arm in question felt a little numb. "Sh'ulders disl'cated."

"I figured so much." Cliegg shifted beside him. "I'd still like to take a quick look at your head and back before I sit you up. Is that okay with you?"

There was no point in arguing about it, so he nodded weakly, closing his eyes for a moment in an effort to get his senses back under control.

Cliegg's hands began feeling his skull not a moment later, continuing towards his neck and finally down his back after turning him slightly on his side. He stopped just above his back splint.

"How's the back pain?"

Obi-Wan took the moment to swallow, even though his throat continued to feel like sandpaper. "Same as before, I guess...," he answered, his voice clearing up a bit, "Why?"

"The skin looks irritated and a little swollen," Cliegg noted silently, "Probably from your movements..."

His words were somewhere worrying, but Obi-Wan had nothing left in him to panic about. There was just a strange emptiness.

"...I don't dare remove the splint, so..."

His eyes snapped pointlessly open again, realizing that Cliegg had continued speaking. "What did you say?" he inquired, frowning.

Again Cliegg stilled for a moment, his worry evident even though he did not say anything. "I said I'd put some Bacta on your back... but I don't dare take your splint off."

"... it's okay," he answered, beginning to feel like a bother again.

He still hated being dependent on others.

The sound of footsteps in the hallway told him that Shmi had returned, probably with the requested medkit.

"Here," she was panting a bit as she sat something down with a thud, "... is everything alright?"

"I'm okay, Shmi...," Obi-Wan grunted, though he sounded unconvincing.

Cliegg huffed beside him. "I think he primarily dislocated his shoulder when he fell," he recounted, "Plus his back is a little swollen and his neck is bleeding from the collar."

Instinctively, Obi-Wan lifted his good arm and felt for the constricting metal around his neck, noticing how his fingers were indeed coming away sticky.

At least it had stopped shooting electric shocks. Perhaps because his body had now withdrawn from the Force out of reflex - the instinct to constantly reach for it now hindered by the awareness that something cruel was going on.

"Okay, let's get you up," Cliegg reached carefully under his left shoulder, mindful not to jostle the other joint, "Ready?"

Obi-Wan nodded tightly and not a moment later the other man pulled him up, slowly setting him down on the bed. He still couldn't help but bit back a small cry as his injured shoulder moved.

The creaking of the floorboards followed by the dipping of the bed told him that Shmi was settling down beside him, one of her hands intertwining with the fingers of his left hand. She squeezed it gently in an effort to calm him down, but Obi-Wan could not feel comfort in her actions.

It reminded him so much of the way Satine had held onto his hand in her last moments.

"We should try to put your shoulder back in place now."

Obi-Wan raised his head. "Have you done this before?"

"Yes," answered Cliegg, gently placing one hand on his chest and the other on his elbow, "On Tatooine I learned a few medical things by necessity. Is it okay for you if I do this or should we take you to the hospital after all?"

No more hospitals. They were like labs.

Even though Obi-Wan knew that the doctors had helped him, he could not forget what Arbor had done in the laboratory. The sterile environment, the sounds of the machines - all of this evoked a fear in him that he could not control. "Do it."

"Very well. Try to breathe normally. I'm pulling on three."

Obi-Wan did as he was told.

"One... Two... Three."

Crack.

Making a choked noise, Obi-Wan keeled over, only being stopped by a hand on his chest.

"Relax," Shmi spoke softly, still keeping her hand pressed against his chest, "It's over."

His shoulder was still aching as Cliegg carefully maneuvered his arm into a sling and secured it. "You should keep your arm still for the next few days, then hopefully everything should be fine."

"Thank you," Obi-Wan murmured in response, suddenly feeling a bone-deep exhaustion settle into his body.

Unmoving, he allowed them to apply Bacta to the lesions on his neck and then to the swellings on his back, barely hiding the slight flinch that wanted to go through his body.

Still, he visibly relaxed as their hands finally withdrew.

Cliegg left the room for a moment, presumably to put the medkit away again, leaving him with Shmi.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked quietly.

Do I want to talk about it?

Obi-Wan huffed exhaustedly and lowered his head, rubbing his left hand over his face. "... I don't know where to start."

"Wherever feels right."

It doesn't anywhere.

He licked his dry lips. "...I remembered things...," he continued, "...from prison." He found it hard to talk about. "On my last day... Palpatine came to see me in my cell. He wanted me to give up Anakin."

His eyes burned and he squeezed them shut in response, letting a hot tear run down his cheek. "And despite everything he did... I couldn't, Shmi. Even though I don't know why."

It felt like he was losing his breath.

Shmi's hand squeezed his arm lightly. "Take your time."

"Palpatine, he-...," he tried to take a deep breath, "He choked me... with the Force."

"But...," Anakin's mother subjected, clearly at a loss of words.

"He is the Sith Lord the Jedi have sought for so long.... And he wants your son as his apprentice."

Shmi audibly gasped beside him.

He still continued. "And now... I don't know how to describe it... Even though they've cut me off from the Force, I can feel something bad happening."

His fingers twitched restlessly. "It feels like death."

"Do you think that's why you had the seizure? Because of something in the Force?"

Obi-Wan contemplated her words. "I think so.... The collar was emitting electricity  even though I wasn't actively reaching for the Force."

He could almost feel Shmi's burning gaze on him. "This thing is electrecuting you?"

His face twisted into an apologetic grimace. "Did I forget to mention that?"

"Obi-Wan!"

Wincing, he turned away a little.

"Sorry, sorry...," Shmi breathed in response, still agitated.

"It's alright...," he mumbled, " ... it's not like you can do anything about it."

"That doesn't make it any better."

He had to smile a little at that. "No, I don't think it does."

They fell into silence for a moment until his still sluggish brain pushed a thought to the forefront of his mind. "Damn," he cursed as his head snapped up, realizing what had escaped him so far, "Do you have a commlink?"

"I- I... yes. It is in the kitchen," Shmi stuttered, taken aback by his sudden behavior.

Obi-Wan immediately bent deon and started blindly fishing for his crutches, until his fingers finally closed around the by now familiar metal.

He jumped up clumsily, his foot wobbling and only having one crutch to support himself as his right arm was caught in the sling. He didn't have time to deal with his prosthetic leg - not to mention that he probably couldn't put it on properly with one hand anyway.

He hobbled past Shmi, ignoring how she called after him angrily, and left his room.

Left. 10 steps forward. Then through the door.

Everything in the house was the same as before.

Obi-Wan barged into the kitchen, startling Cliegg who was still arranging things. „Obi-Wan, what's wrong? You shouldn't..."

"Where's your commlink?" he interrupted him harshly, his heart hammering in his chest.

Cliegg seemed to notice his unease. "It's just to your left on the counter."

Not wasting any time, Obi-Wan hobbled over to the counter and leaned against it, leaving his left hand free to feel for the device. It didn't take him long to find the familiar device. He picked it up only to realize his mistake.

He couldn't read the display.

In the meantime, Shmi had followed him into the kitchen. "What is going on...?"

Obi-Wan's breath quickened. "I need your help."

Shmi was immediately at his side. "What do you need?"

Swallowing hard, he pressed the commlink into her hand. "I need you to call Ahsoka," he asked, mentioning the teenager's frequency in the same breath.

Tensely, he listened as the commlink tried to establish a connection shortly afterwards. The call never connected.

He bit his lips hard. "Try again."

Nothing again.

A bad feeling settled in his stomach. "Try Dex and Padme. You should have their frequencies."

Both attempts came to nothing.

His anxiety reached new heights.

"That doesn't have to mean anything," Shmi said softly.

He wished he could look at her. "But it could mean anything."

The worst part was that there was nothing he could do. They had no ship, he could barely walk. He was trapped by the shortcomings of his own body – like a bird whose wings had been clipped.

Chapter Text

Shmi watched anxiously as an absent look came over Obi-Wan's face and he lapsed into silence.

She couldn't help but notice that the man seemed ill - even more so than in the evening. The events had robbed him of his strength - and now he had to worry about the few people he had left. Shmi wished there was something she could do.

Obi-Wan's fingers clutched the edge of the tabletop - the only thing that seemed to be keeping him upright.

"Maybe you should get some rest," she suggested quietly, eyeing the man in front of her warily.

He did not reply. Instead, his jaw clenched and his fingers pressed a little harder into the wood, making Shmi think he would leave marks if he pressed a little harder.

"Obi-Wan...," she reached out for him, a gesture he couldn't see, of course, but before she could touch him, he pushed himself off the counter, grabbed his crutch and hobbled out of the room without another word.

Shmi wanted to go after him, now more than worried, but Cliegg held her back. "Leave him," he breathed, following her gaze down the corridor, "We can't help him now."

A rumble sounded from Obi-Wan's room and a moment later the man came out again, this time with the prosthetic leg attached. Shmi recognized immediately that it was not properly attached.

Understandable with only one hand.

The Jedi dragged the leg behind him more than he walked with it, but it obviously gave him enough balance that he left the crutches behind.

Part of her wanted to stop him, but instead she bit her lips hard as she looked sadly after his retreating form.

When the front door closed behind him with a clack, she couldn't help but wince. "You think he will be alright?" she breathed.

Cliegg hummed. "It's not like we can stop him."

"But what if he gets hurt...? He does not seem to be in his right mind."

"Oh, I think he is," her husband argued, "He just does not know how to handle his grief."

His words made her eyebrows shoot up. "You think...?"

He shrugged his shoulders contritely. "I don't know, but whatever's going on on Coruscant can't be good. And that none of them are answering..."

Shmi didn't want to imagine the end. She wanted to hope that they were all safe and sound.

Her thoughts drifted to her son.

Is he all right?

It was still hard to believe that her boy would be capable of such deeds. The last time she had met him, there had been nothing but regret in his eyes - a deep-seated despair.

But then there had been the broadcast of the trial. And he hadn't even tried to defend Obi-Wan.

The Jedi Master's words echoed in her ears.

He is the Sith Lord the Jedi have sought for so long.... And he wants your son as his apprentice.

Palpatine.

Shmi tried to tie the individual threads together in her head, but she couldn't quite manage it.

Had the chancellor been influencing her son for much longer?

Had he planted his hatred for Obi-Wan in his head?

Overwhelmed, she rubbed her temples, only to find herself pulled into a light hug. "Calm down, dear," her partner soothed, "It doesn't help to rack your brains."

Lowering her head, she nodded stiffly. "I know..."

It's only in a mother's nature to worry.

Anakin stared absently at the planet looming in their viewport, his fingers repeatedly flexing around the lightsaber in his hand. His shoulder still throbbed, even after Ahsoka had supplied it with Bacta.

But he paid no mind to it. The pain was more grounding, distracting him from what he was about to face.

"You should give it back to him," he broke the silence, his hand stilling for a moment.

Next to him on the pilot seat, Ahsoka huffed. "No," she said, continuing to focus on steering their ship towards the surface.

"Ahsoka-," Anakin choked on his own words, "I-I can't do this. Obi-Wan won't even let me get close."

"So you're just going to give up? I never thought you were a coward before."

Snips, he wanted to chide her, but he had no right to. Not anymore. Instead, he had no choice but to stare at his – former - padawan, knowing full well that she had a point.

Silently, he settled stiffly into the co-pilot's seat, his legs suddenly feeling like they would not hold him any longer. In the past, he would never have backed down from a confrontation, would have faced her with a wide grin.

But then I had had Obi-Wan at my back.

Now he was the challenge.

And that's your fault.

He himself had driven Obi-Wan past his breaking point.

"Back in prison...," he finally started, his throat dry, "I'm sure he would have killed me if they hadn't ripped him off me first..."

The only sign that Ahsoka had heard him was her fingers digging briefly into the steering wheel. "Padme told me about it....," she murmured, "That doesn't sound like Master Obi-Wan at all."

Anakin let out a breath. "I know but.... He just snapped. I tried to apologize, but he wouldn't take any of it."

He ran a shaky hand through his hair. ".... He really scared me."

Ahsoka hummed quietly. "How do you think he felt when you went off on him?"

They dipped down into the atmosphere and Anakin could see the trees drawing nearer.

"Not really well I suppose...," he rasped, swallowing around the lump in his throat, "But- but how can I fix this? I know I made a mistake - Force, it's the biggest mistake of my life - but I want to fix it... I just don't know how."

"... what made you do it?"

The question kind of took him off guard, even if it was the most obvious one.

Why did I do that?

"I don't know...," Anakin admitted quietly, redirecting his eyes to the lightsaber in his hand, "There was suddenly so much anger in me that I didn't know how to control... Combined with the frustration I had built up towards Obi-Wan...," he made a motion with his hand, "... you know how it ended… there is no way to explain myself.“

"You were frustrated with Master Obi-Wan?"

He hated talking about this. "Yes...," he quietly offered, "I always felt somehow that he was holding me back, that I could achieve more if he would only let me... that he didn't trust me."

"Did you ever talk to him about it?"

I should have.

"No," the word felt like ash on his tongue, "...I've only spoken to the Chancellor about it."

"I don't see how you could trust him more than your own Master," Ahsoka argued, driving the dagger in even deeper and making Anakin almost drown in his shame.

"Considering he is the Sith we were looking for all the time it kind of makes sense now...," he defended weakly, suddenly feeling like a child.

Ahsoka let out a hollow laugh. "... yeah, I guess."

She landed the ship on a small meadow near the farm - with a skill she could only have learned from him. In the distance, he could already see two familiar figures coming out of the house.

Anakin's heart tightened painfully.

"Let me talk to them first," Ahsoka said as she stood up. He could only nod stiffly in response, not trusting his ability to form words right now.

Frozen in place, he watched as Ahsoka approached his mother and her husband, both of them pulling the teenager in a quick hug. He couldn't hear their words from the ship, but his mother looked up at the cockpit a moment later, making Anakin hide from her eyes.

She must hate me. Like everyone else.

Light footsteps sounded behind him on the ramp and he sucked in a sharp breath in response.

"Anakin?" his mother's hesitant voice reached his ear and it took everything he had to turn to her, "You're alive..."

"Mom...," he whispered, standing awkwardly next to the co-pilot's seat. Her eyes were shining with unshed tears as she slowly came closer. She came to a stop in front of him, lifting one hand up to his face.

"Oh Ani...," before he could stop her, she put her arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace.

Anakin couldn't hold himself together anymore and let his head sink onto hers while hot tears ran down his cheeks. "I'm so sorry..."

His mother held him all the tighter and he melted into her embrace. "I know, dear..."

Sniffling, he pulled his head back so he could see her eyes. "You don't hate me?"

She gently stroked a strand of hair from his face before lingering over the bruise on his face with one of her fingers. "You are my son. I could never hate you... besides, I can see how much you regret what you did."

Clumsily, he wiped the tears from his face. "Obi-Wan...he's here, isn't he?"

His mother nodded, but her eyes filled with worry. "Yes, but he left the house a few hours ago without telling us where he was going.... And he- he hasn't been well."

I need to find him before he can hurt himself.

"I-I need to talk to him," he said, anxiety spiking through his veins, "I need to try and apologize to him..."

"I know," his mother breathed, "I have a hunch where he might be...."

He listened intently to her explanation, learning about the slowly crumbling treehouse - and the grave of Obi-Wan's parents.

A shiver ran down his spine. "I'll try to find him...," he promised, "I just have to somehow make him understand that I don't want to hurt him."

"I have faith in you," his mother replied with a slight smile, squeezing his shoulder briefly as she did so.

Together, they left the ship to join Cliegg and Ahsoka. Anakin came to a stop in front of his stepfather, not really knowing what he wanted to say.

Fortunately, the man took the task off his hands. "Good to have you back, boy," he murmured, offering his arm for a light hug.

He hesitated for a moment, but then returned the gesture. "Thank you," he said as he withdrew again, "I know you wouldn't have to welcome me like this..."

Cliegg watched him with a stern gaze. "We're not the ones you have to justify yourself to."

"Yes...," Anakin shifted nervously on his feet, "That's why I should go find him as soon as possible...," he looked briefly at Ahsoka, "I think in the meantime Ahsoka can already tell you what happened."

She nodded briefly and then turned to his parents. "A lot has happened..."

Shmi hummed in response. „Obi-Wan had some kind of seizure tonight. He seemed upset and confused... Said that Palpatine is the Sith Lord and that you're in danger."

Ahsoka frowned. "But how...?" she shook her head before she could voice her thought, "Not now. Anakin, you need to find him."

Part of him wanted to know what she was going to say, but he stomped it down. "Alright," he turned his gaze towards the forest at the edge of the farm, "I'll try my best."

With that, he took his leave and moved forward as fast as he could, even though his ankle was starting to give him problems again. Gritting his teeth, Anakin nevertheless hurried forward until he reached a clearing.

The first thing he spotted was the small pond and the large tree in the middle. But that wasn't the only thing. There was indeed an old tree house on the tree, now eaten away by the ravages of time, but the basic platform was still there. On one side hung an unstable-looking rope ladder that swayed slightly in the wind.

And then there was Obi-Wan. He was sitting in the middle of the platform, his back leaning against the tree trunk. His friend was facing away from him, but the sight still made him pause in his steps.

Obi-Wan's hair was perhaps a few centimeters long, exposing his greying temples way more than before.

Anakin received a jolting reminder of what they must have done to Obi-Wan in the lab.

Even from a distance, he could see Obi-Wan sitting there stiffly, his face set in a stony scowl.

Obi-Wan had definitely lost weight. His jawline was more prominent even though it was mostly hidden by the beard.

He wore a washed-out blue scarf around his neck, which didn't look like it would provide much warmth.

His heart hammering in his chest, Anakin took another step closer, stopping only when he noticed another horrifying detail.

He has lost his leg.

Shocked, he stared at the metallic something that the doctors must have given him as a prosthesis. It was obviously a discarded droid leg, but even as an amateur you could see that it didn't fit properly.

His own stump suddenly began to throb and he found himself subconsciously reaching for the hurting limb. Obi-Wan had made sure he got the best prosthesis at the time - had probably played a relationship or two to get it.

Anakin knew all too well what a difference that had made. He had just never told Obi-Wan how grateful he had been for it.

I'll build you something sensible.

Taking a deep breath, he stepped in front of the platform and stopped immediately when he noticed Obi-Wan tense up, obviously having heard him.

His throat was suddenly as dry as if he had swallowed a pile of sand. "Obi-Wan?"

Chapter Text

His voice echoed between the trees and it was as if even the birds had stopped singing their songs. But maybe Anakin just couldn't hear them over his own heartbeat pounding in his ears.

He still had his eyes fixed on Obi-Wan, but he had yet to give a response. Only the slight shift in his posture revealed that he was aware of Anakin's presence.

Anakin took another step forward. "I- I just want to talk...," he paused, hoping for a reaction only to get none, "Is it okay if I come up?"

Again nothing.

Very well then.

There was no way he would just leave now.

Taking a deep breath, Anakin grabbed the old rope ladder and began to climb up, deliberately making a sound with each step he took so that Obi-Wan could locate him.

As he stepped onto the platform, the wood made an ominous creaking sound, as if it would break at any moment. "Should we be up here?" he rambled, just to ease his mind, "This doesn't look very stable..."

Obi-Wan continued ignoring him.

Carefully, Anakin pushed himself forward, stepping around the most rotten-looking planks. When he reached his master's side, he hesitated briefly, but then settled down at a little distance from him.

"Are you going to continue to give me the silent treatment?" he asked dryly, trying a different approach, "Usually you never..."

He never got to finish.

 „Just shut up…,“ Obi-Wan interrupted him, his voice gruff and lacking its usual warmth.

"I..." Anakin opened his mouth stupidly, only to close it again, "... okay."

They sat like that for a while, Anakin a silent observer of Obi-Wan's every move. A small black pendant kept dancing between the man's fingers, disappearing into his palm from time to time, only to reappear.

He had only seen the necklace once before.

On the day that had destroyed so much. Anakin remembered vividly how Obi-Wan had fallen from the roof and crashed onto the crates below.

Later, when he had caught up with Ahsoka, who was already holding the lifeless form of his best friend, the pendant had slipped out of the collar of his tunic.

At the time, he had thought nothing of it.

But now - when he saw the Beskar moving before his eyes - it all made sense.

Anakin swallowed hard. "I'm sorry," he began again, his voice wanting to let him down, "...for all of it."

Obi-Wan's fingers froze and he lowered his hands into his lap. "You can't change the past, Anakin..."

Tears began to gather in his eyes. "But I wish I could...," his lips quivered and he barely suppressed a sob, "I - I was arrogant, blinded by this - this power I was promised." Anakin had to take a moment to breathe. "I didn't realise how the Chancellor was manipulating me, turning me against you... fuelling this rage in me."

He wished he could look Obi-Wan in the eye. "I never told you this, but... you've always been like a father to me," a single tear dislodged itself from the corner of his eye, "I never appreciated what you did for me... and yet you never let me down."

"But I let you down...," he continued, "I didn't want to see that you needed me too... turned my back on you, made you feel like you couldn't talk to me."

He had seen the glow slowly fade from Obi-Wan's eyes, but still he had never brought himself to ask if he was all right. In the end, he had stolen his last light.

Obi-Wan had always been fine, right?

Anakin shifted nervously on his knees. "I know I'm not supposed to ask this, but.... Can you give me one last chance?"

He lifted his head, a slight breeze tousling his hair. The seconds that ticked by felt like hours.

Obi-Wan had lowered his head, face pinched. But he still did not speak.

Something broke inside Anakin. "Alright... then I should better leave, shouldn't I?" he forced himself to his feet, even though they felt unstable.

He was about to take a step back when Obi-Wan's right arm shot out, wrapping around his ankle briefly, only to let go immediately when the movement must have obviously hurt. Anakin watched as his master cradled his arm in front of his chest with a grimace.

"Obi-Wan?" he asked cautiously.

"Sit back down," rhe other murmured, staring sightlessly ahead.

He immediately did as instructed, mindfully keeping his distance. "... did you hurt your arm?" he continued, only now noticing the sling that lay discarded next to Obi-Wan's legs.

"Dislocated my shoulder last night," Obi-Wan surprisingly indulged him, pulling the sling over and beginning to manoeuvre his arm back into it.

Anakin watched him struggle with it for a moment before he decided to say something. "Let me help you...," he offered, making his friend halt his movements.

Obi-Wan's jaw clenched. "...No," he grumbled eventually, jamming his arm into the sling and pulling the strap over his head.

„Mom said that you had a seizure last night,“ muttered Anakin, "Did that happen there?"

A hesitant nod was all he received as an answer.

Carefully he shuffled closer and immediately noticed how Obi-Wan's muscles tensed.

But there was no fear in the Force. In fact, there was nothing at all.

"Why can't I sense you?" he whispered, studying his master's scarred face, "Our bond... is it gone? Or are you simply shielding from me?"

The bitter laughter that escaped his counterpart made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. A flurry of emotion rushed across Obi-Wan's face as he did so, from despair and hopelessness to sheer pain.

"Do you really believe that, Anakin?" he asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "That I could shield from you?"

He didn't understand. Nothing made sense.

"Obi-Wan, I don't know what you're trying to tell me..." His eyes darted over his master’s face, desperately trying to find any indication on what was going on.

His master instead huffed again and raised his left hand, reaching for the scarf around his neck. For a moment he seemed to hesitate, but then he jerked the fabric aside.

Anakin didn't know what to stare at first. The dried blood that had obviously been running down Obi-Wan's neck over and over again. The thick, constricting metal band that cut into the soft flesh of his neck. The small metal thongs that dug into his neck like needles.

„… you like it?“, Obi-Wan asked cynically.

"Fuck, I...," he was at a loss for words, "what's that?"

His fingers twitched, but he resisted the urge to touch the collar.

"A gift from your dear chancellor," his counterpart hissed through clenched teeth.

Your dear chancellor. His words hit him as hard as Obi-Wan's fists in prison.

The metal shone almost harmlessly in the light of the sun. As if it were a simple necklace, grotesque in its own way, and not a cruel instrument of torture. Anakin's eyes traced the surface again and again, but found no weak point - no lock.

Wordlessly, Obi-Wan put the necklace with the Beskar pendant back on.

The light immediately reflected on the small piece of metal - identical to the collar.

Anakin swallowed hard as the realisation of what he was seeing sank in. They - Palpatine, no Sidious - had used Mandalorian steel to torture Obi-Wan. Tearing apart what might have been the last beautiful memory of the woman he had loved and then so cruelly lost.

And if that wasn't enough, it took away Obi-Wan's last anchor to reality - the Force.

"... since when?" he croaked, his stomach tightening in spasms.

 „… when they took me from the prison.“

He silently did the maths. Months. Obi-Wan was wearing this abomination since months.

"There...," the words stuck in his throat, "There has to be a way to get rid of this thing."

Obi-Wan stretched his head skywards. "The Mandalorians could probably remove it...," he clenched his jaw, "... too bad they would kill me."

"So what...?" Anakin was stunned, "Are you just going to keep it on? That can kill you too..."

"Oh, now you care?" Obi-Wan sneered in return, his friend's expression darkening. "Unless you have some grandiose solution in mind, leave me alone."

He didn't know how to handle the bitterness. The wall that Obi-Wan had carefully constructed between them.

Anakin turned in his seat so that he was sitting directly facing Obi-Wan. "No," he stated firmly, "I won't leave you alone. Not again. You can hate me. You can hit me. You never have to speak to me again if you want to.... But I won't let you destroy yourself any further."

The Jedi Master's hands clenched into fists. "... It was you who destroyed me in the first place."

There no point denying it. No matter how much it hurt.

 „I know,“ Anakin forced out, "If I could, I'd give you my eyes right now. But like you said, I can't change the past.... But we can still change the future. I need you, Obi-Wan. We all need you."

He took a moment. "It was no accident that you had the seizure last night," his gaze was fixed on Obi-Wan's face, "I don't know how, but Palpatine managed to get the clones to turn on us... they burned the temple, killed everyone on their path."

Obi-Wan tensed in front of him.

"I don't know how many survived," Anakin continued, "Ahsoka barely made it, but..."

"Ahsoka's alive?" Obi-Wan interrupted him, milky eyes searching his desperately.

"Yes," he confirmed, "we escaped from Coruscant together.... I probably wouldn't have made it without her either."

Anakin unclipped Obi-Wan's lightsaber from his belt and placed it carefully on the ground between them. "I will not stand by and watch Sidious destroy everything we've fought for so long. I would like you to stand by my side one last time....," his fingers clenched over the wooden planks, "... but of course the decision is yours alone."

With that, he stood up for good and turned away.

Obi-Wan did not try to stop him again.

Not when he descended from the platform. Not when he came to a stop in front of the tree, throwing a glance up towards the man that had raised him.

Anakin silently lowered his head again, his eyes finding a large, smooth stone he had missed earlier. It looked as if someone had only recently removed the moss and grass that had previously covered the stone, revealing the delicately crafted letters that had been carved into it.

Renan Ben Kenobi

Siala Kenobi

Loved and Unforgotten

His heart sank. Of course he had heard about the death of Obi-Wan's parents, but seeing the grave at his feet was something else.

Eyes lingering on the gravestone a moment longer, he finally stepped back.

"I'll go back to the house now," he called up to Obi-Wan, even though he could barely see him from his position, "... I guess the others would be glad if you'd join too."

The wind rustling through the trees was the only answer he got.

"Very well," he muttered, while he dragged his feet around.

He would not force Obi-Wan to do anything, even if he hoped that the man would make the right decision in the end.

That Obi-Wan could give him one last chance.

Chapter Text

Chapter 43

Anakin had just crossed the clearing when he heard a thump behind him. Turning around, he was surprised to see Obi-Wan, who had probably just climbed down from the tree house.

The man sat kneeling on his remaining leg and slowly began to push himself back up, using the arm that was not in the sling for support.

Anakin briefly wondered if he had jumped, but quickly banished the thought.

After a moment, Obi-Wan came limping towards him, still dragging the prosthetic behind him rather than walking with it.

When he reached him, he eyed Anakin with a grim look. "You're done staring?" he murmured, his milky eyes piercing him.

"How do you...?" Anakin started, but broke off in the middle, "... sorry." He raised his arms placatingly, even if the gesture was completely pointless to a blind man.

Even as he did so, something slammed into his chest, shortly knocking the air out of his lungs.

Coughing, Anakin willed his fingers to close on whatever Obi-Wan had just shoved into his chest.

His lightsaber.

"I'm done," Obi-Wan growled, letting go of the weapon, "... do whatever you want with it."

The man continued to push past him and Anakin couldn't help but blink in irritation.

"How... what do you mean by 'You're done'?" he called after he had caught himself, scrambling after the jedi master, "Obi-Wan! Stop right there!"

Of course he didn‘t.

Fortunately, Anakin quickly caught up with him, thanks to the bad prosthesis. "So you're just going to leave us alone with this?" he asked incredulously, ".... That doesn't sound like you."

Obi-Wan laughed humorlessly as he continued to walk forward. "Is that so? You just said it was my decision. Here you have mine."

"Yes, I know what I said," Anakin rambled quietly, taken off-guard, "But I meant it when I said we needed you..."

The other man only hummed in response, ignoring the question underneath.

Anakin pursed his lips and made a decision. Putting a hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder, he stopped the man in his tracks, forcing him to turn to face him.

"What do I have to do to make you trust me again?" he asked sternly, "That's what this is about, isn't it?"

Obi-Wan's face was covered in a mask of steel. "What makes you think there's anything left to fix?" he asked coolly.

"Because I know," Anakin argued, "Why else did you just stop me from going?"

"You hadn't told me what had happened on Coruscant. That's all."

Anakin stared in shock at the man he had called his friend. He couldn't deny that the words hurt. "That's it?" he breathed, swallowing hard, "What happened to you, Obi-Wan? I hardly recognize you."

Obi-Wan clenched his jaw. "Funny, isn't it? How eyes can deceive you..."

Something inside him snapped. "I took your eyes," he ground out, "Not your damn heart, did I?"

This finally made him stop. Anakin watched as his master's hands clenched and unclenched. "...I thought I didn't have one."

His voice was so quiet that his words were almost lost in the wind. But they were still crystal clear to Anakin. "What are you talking about...?"

"Do you really think I'm going to forget that easily?"

Anakin's breath caught in his throat. "What did I say...?" he asked cautiously, though he could almost guess.

He had thrown many words at Obi-Wan over the years - deliberately hurting him.

"You said that I don't know how to love... That I am incapable of showing affection," Obi-Wan finally turned towards him, though his eyes looked blankly through him, "I guess one needs a heart for such things, right?"

"I'm sorry," Anakin returned honestly, "I-I shouldn't have said that."

The memory of Satine's death came to his mind again. How Obi-Wan had left everything behind to save the woman he loved. How he had returned devastated - with empty arms.

"But you said it," Obi-Wan breathed, sounding incredibly vulnerable, "... and you can't take that back."

With that, he turned away again, continuing on his way to the house. Anakin stood rooted to the spot on the dirt road, lost in his own thoughts.

I did this. I hurt him.

His feet suddenly feeling like lead, he dragged himself the last stretch back to the house, silently entering the kitchen only to find himself immediately in the center of attention.

"Your conversation didn't exactly go well, did it?" Ahsoka asked from her seat at the kitchen table, eyeing him knowingly.

Anakin slumped his shoulders. "I take it he's back then?" he sighed, "No.... I'm afraid... I'm afraid I haven't really been able to accomplish much."

Lapsing into silence, he sat down at the table, the stares of his parents and his padawan burning on his skin. ".... I'm sorry," he muttered dejectedly.

"It's alright," Ahsoka eventually said, "...I'll try to talk to him." With that, she stood up and held out her hand. "Will you give me his lightsaber?"

Nodding stiffly, he handed her the weapon. As it left it hand it felt like the crystal was quietly humming almost like Obi-Wan had sometimes done when he had prepared tea.

His Padawan eyed the metal cylinder briefly as if she heard it too, but then clipped the weapon to her belt.

"I'll see what I can do...."

Ahsoka grabbed a wooden box from the counter that he hadn't seen before. Still, it seemed strangely familiar to him.

As he watched her move towards Obi-Wan's room, he felt like a hopeless failure.

I guess I am only good at destroying things.

-

The knock on the door almost made him drop the small piece of wood he had once started carving on his desk.

He didn't feel like company. If he was honest, he felt the need to drown everything in alcohol in a pitiful attempt to escape reality.

It knocked again, reminding him that he still hadn't answered.

"Not now," he murmured, clutching the unfinished wooden figurine between his fingers.

His ears buzzed, joining the headache that kept wrecking behind his useless eyes.

"Obi-Wan, it's me," Ahsoka's voice rang through the door, "...can I come in, please?"

He didn't want her to see him like this. Didn't want anyone to see him like this. With stiff fingers, he wiped the half-dried tears from his cheek.

"...come in," he replied just loud enough for her to hear outside.

The door creaked as Ahsoka slowly opened it, followed by the creaking of the wooden floorboards as she finally entered and closed the door behind her.

"Hey," she breathed softly, coming to a stop somewhere behind him.

Obi-Wan gently put the figure down. "Hey."

"Mind if I sit down...?"

There was a lump in his throat, making it difficult to breathe. "...Of course."

He listened as Ahsoka padded over gently and sat down on the bed. "I... I got something for you," she began carefully and something was set down on the table in front of him, "... I thought you might want to have it back."

Frowning, he groped for the object until his fingers found a wooden box.

Oh Force.

He didn't need his eyes to know what was in front of him. The box in which he had collected the few things that meant something to him.

Suddenly trembling, he opened it, his fingers hovering first over Qui-Gon's lightsaber and then over the small box that he hated and loved at the same time.

Pressing his lips into a thin line, he took out the small box, snapping it open with a flick of his thumb. Delicately he touched the ring he knew that still sat there on the dark blue cushion.

I loved you always. I always will.

A single tear dislodged itself from the corner of his eye but he did not move to wipe it away.

"It was a silly thought, wasn't it?" he mumbled more to himself than to Ahsoka, "That she would have me..."

"That's not true," Ahsoka countered softly, "You two were just denied the chance..."

Had there ever been a chance at all?

Obi-Wan hummed quietly. "I guess I should get over it."

"Mas...," Ahsoka stopped herself, "Obi-Wan, did you even take the time to grieve?"

There is no Death, there is the Force.

But where was the Force now?

He couldn't deny that he had constantly pushed his pain away since Satine's death. But thinking about it now - it made the walls collapse around him, crushing him under their weight.

"I can't think about her...," he admitted, his throat dry.

He imagined if he could still see her ghost would be hovering in the corner, silently judging him for her demise.

You're the reason I am dead, Obi-Wan.

"Take your time."

Forcing his eyes closed, he took the ring from its place, clutching it tightly in his hand. It almost felt warm in his palm, like it was breathing.

He wished he could listen to the small kyber crystal's song.

"... I don't know where to start," he whispered, even though he didn't know why he was even talking about it.

He didn't want to. But still, his tongue didn't seem to obey him.

Or was it his heart after all?

Ahsoka shifted closer to him. "What's your fondest memory with her?"

One particular evening came to his mind.

„So this is your idea of a nice etablisment?“, joked Satine, quirking up an eyebrow beneath the hood that hid her face.

"Would you rather go to one of the fancy restaurants and find an article about you and me on the HoloNet tomorrow?" he had asked back, the neon sign of Dex Diner reflecting in his eyes. He turned to her, putting an arm around her shoulder. "Trust me, okay?" he grinned, "The owner is a good friend of mine."

Satine had given him a suspicious look, but a shallow smile had formed on her lips. "Go ahead then."

Obi-Wan almost laughed. "I... no, no, that's stupid," he stopped himself and shook his head.

"Come on, tell me," Ahsoka urged anyway and he could almost hear her smile.

It was getting hard to even remember her smile, he realized bitterly.

Dropping his own smile, he put the engagement ring back. "The last time she was on Coruscant, I took her to see Dex.... It was- it was nice... we could finally be ourselves. Not a jedi measter, general or duchess....," he took a deep breath, "I guess that was the night I decided I wanted to marry her."

"Did she know?"

"No," Obi-Wan breathed, pressing his lips into a thin line, "... but I should have told her then." Regret began to put pressure on his heart.

"I'm sure she did know in a way," Ahsoka reassured him.

Obi-Wan lifted his gaze only to find more darkness. The slight tingling feeling on his eyes did tell him though that he must be staring at the sun. „I once told her that I would have left the order if she would have asked…“

He blinked as the burning sensation began to hurt. „… but she never did.“

A small hand wormed itself into his, gently squeezing it. For once Obi-Wan did not flinch at the touch. „She must have known how much good you were doing as a jedi.“

He chose to keep his silence at that.

Ahsoka squeezed his hand once more. „…. Did Anakin tell you what happened on Coruscant?“

Obi-Wan hesitated for a moment, but then nodded stiffly even though the movement rammed the collar's thongs into his neck again.

The Padawan waited a moment before she continued. "When I was there... I met Master Plo," her voice was suddenly raspy.

A shiver ran through his spine and a small voice already whispered in his ears what Ahsoka hadn't voiced yet.

"He died when the clones bombed the temple."

Holding his breath, Obi-Wan closed his eyes, subconsciously squeezing Ahsoka's hand.

Rest well, my friend.

"I...," Ahsoka faltered, "I know that something is wrong, Obi-Wan... And I also know that we can't do this without you."

Something was placed on the desk in front of him and from the sound alone, he knew immediately what it was.

He screwed up his face. "Ahsoka, I already told Anakin that-"

"I know," she interrupted him, "But you've never been one to stand by idly."

She slowly withdrew her hand. "I won't force you to do anything."

Silently he listened as Ahsoka stood up and walked to the door, before pausing for a moment. "... but I need you, Obi-Wan."

With those words, she opened the door and left the room, leaving him alone with the lightsaber on the table.

With trembling fingers, he reached for the weapon, tracing all the scratches and dents it had collected over the years.

I don’t know if I am prepared for another war.

Chapter Text

Chapter 44

Obi-Wan let out a breath as he put his lightsaber back down, bathing in the silence that had now settled over the room after Ahsoka had left. 

He knew she was right. He couldn't run away forever. Even if he wanted to. 

It was time to confront his demons. And he should start with the one that wore his Padawan's face.

His stump stung painfully, reminding him that maybe he shouldn't have been running so much. Wincing, he began to pull off the prosthetic, freeing the unforgiving metal from his sore leg remnant. He eased the droid leg onto the floor beside the desk before carefully feeling his stump with his fingers. The whole area was swollen and warm to the touch, not to mention extremely painful.

Cursing softly, Obi-Wan let go of his leg, already knowing that he needed someone with working eyes to look at it.

But not today.

Grunting, he braced himself from the desk with his healthy arm, carefully dragging himself over to his bed. He sat down heavily, trying to steady himself a little. His ribs twinged around the rigid splint on his back, reminding him that he had to get rid of the damn collar around his neck so he could get well. 

Whatever 'healthy' meant.

He lay back, his head coming to rest on the pillow on his bed. It almost felt like only yesterday that his father had been sitting on the edge of the bed and he himself had been leaning gently against the headboard of the bed. 

"I fear that you worry too much, Obi-Wan," his father observed with a knowing look, his silver hair reflecting in the sunlight.

"I can't afford not to worry," he returned bitterly, his eyes fixed on the window. It was almost strange - the calm and peace that reigned on Stewjon. Part of him was just waiting for all hell to break loose in the next moment.

His fingers twitched subconsciously. They always did ever since the war started.
His father tilted his head, now visibly worried.

"Obi-Wan, can I ask you something?"

Obi-Wan let his eyes wander to his father, finding the man holding himself unnaturally still. Almost as if he was afraid of something. "...Of course."

Renan's Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed hard. "I know I shouldn't be asking you this, but... Did... did your mother and I make the right decision? To give you to the Jedi?'

His heart skipped a beat. As much as he was praised for his silver tongue, it was failing him so miserably now. "I...," he began, only to fall silent again, "... I don't know anymore."

He watched with pain as the lines on his father's face deepened and he grimaced. 

His fingers twitched again. "When I was younger, I would have answered with a resounding yes... but now - I hardly recognize myself. I'm tired, dad...," his eyes glistened with unshed tears, "And they just won't let me sleep."

His shoulders slumped, whereupon his father motioned him to hug him. Hesitating briefly, Obi-Wan finally scooted over, letting his father wrap an arm around him. Obi-Wan let his head fall on his the man‘s shoulder. 

The warmth of his father fading into oblivion, Obi-Wan stared sightlessly into nothingness. 

Maybe I should have left when I still had the chance. Should have realized sooner that I had tried to cling to a dream that should never have come true. Instead, out of selfishness, I had dragged the people around me into ruin.

What good did I do after all? 

My master is dead, my parents are dead, Satine is dead. My own padawan hated it so much that I only looked at him that he took away my light. I brought war to systems that only ever wanted peace - all in a name for the Republic I was supposed to believe in.

A Republic led by a Sith Lord. 

Maybe it was the right thing to do. Stop Sidious and then - then maybe he would get the chance to find peace.

Or I die in the process. 

With this thought in his head, he forced himself to sleep a little, even if he couldn't find much rest.

He slept until the first bird sounds reached his ears. He had enjoyed their singing in the past, but now - now he almost felt as if their calls were mocking him.

Face contorted, he sat up and reached for one of the crutches he had leaning against the desk. Foregoing the prosthesis, he stood up with difficulty, trying to balance himself with only one crutch and one arm in a sling.

Slowly he hobbled out into the hallway, entering the kitchen a moment later. The smell of freshly brewed caf fills his nostrils.

A clatter as someone set down a cup, followed by a voice, made him flinch. "Morning," Anakin greeted him.

Obi-Wan took a small step back in surprise, not expecting anyone to be up already.

The kitchen chair scraped across the floor. "Sorry.... I didn't mean to startle you," Anakin rambled frantically while Obi-Wan was still struggling with himself, "I... I can go." 

"No," he finally stopped the other man, "No, stay. I wasn't expecting to run into anyone right now, that's all."

He could almost feel Anakin's gaze on him as he stared. Ignoring this, Obi-Wan walked the last bit to the table and sat down, putting his crutch on the floor. 

"Ehm...," Anakin shifted his feet on the floor, "... okay. Do you- do you want a tea or something?"

Obi-Wan smirked a little. "In fact, I'd have a caf..."

He couldn't see if Anakin was surprised by his choice and could only listen as shoes squeaked on the tiles, a cup was retrieved from the cupboard and finally caf was poured.

"Here," his former Padawan announced as he placed the cup of steaming brew in front of him.

He wrapped his free hand around the drink. "Thank you." The warm steam rising reached his face, almost uncomfortably pricking at his scar. He didn't pull back though, desperately chasing the small glimmer of warmth that wanted to evade his innermost core.

Anakin settled down on the table again, audibly fiddling with his mug.

Obi-Wan knew it was time to say something. "Anakin, I...." The words stuck in his throat.

What am I trying to say?

"... I cannot give you the forgiveness you seek. Not yet. Maybe not as long as I live.... But I still think you deserve one last chance," his fingers clutched at the cup, if only to hide the trembling. A small smile wanted to tug at his lips but he did not let it show, "... if only for old times sake."

It was never easy to cut your brother out of your life, was it?

A turmoil of emotions went through his body. And all their voices whispered, screamed to him.

Fear. You know what he's capable of. You can't trust him.

Anger. How can you overlook his actions? He deserves your rejection.

Joy. You have a chance to get your family back.

Sadness. Why try when you'll end up with a pile of ashes anyway. You know your fate, Obi-Wan.

Anakin said nothing for a moment and Obi-Wan wished he could look him in the eye now.

Suddenly there was a soft sob, filling the heavy silence that had settled between them. Something inside him wanted to make him stand up and take the other man in his arms, just as he had done earlier. 

Instead he did not move, silently listened to the tormenting sound.

After a few minutes, Anakin regained his composure. "I... I don't know what to say," he croaked, "... I guess I am just grateful that you still can give me a chance... I know you don't have to."

Obi-Wan lifted his head, sightlessly eyeing his counterpart. "That doesn't mean I'll forget what happened."

"Of course," Anakin returned quickly, sounding small, "I swear I'll never do anything like that again."

"Don't make promises you don't know you can keep," he reminded his former student sharply.

There was a halting intake of air and he could imagine Anakin backing away, visibly hurt by his words.

"I want to help you, do you hear?" came the quiet words instead, "I'm sure I can build you a much better leg and that thing on your neck," his voice was filled with anger and disgust, ".... If you let me, maybe I can figure out how to open it."

Something sparked inside him. "You think you could open the collar?"

"I mean, no... but I could try. I just need to take a good look at it."

His fingers will close around your neck, a dark voice whispered in his head. 

Would you rather have a Mandalorian with a saw at your neck?, a much lighter voice hissed back.

That's insane.

It's your best chance.

Is it?

Glistening hot liquid poured over his fingers as he must have somehow knocked over his cup, snapping him back to reality.

Obi-Wan hissed in pain as he jerked his fingers towards him, shaking them in an attempt to get rid of the hot liquid.

"Shit," he heard Anakin curse, the chair scraping across the floor as he hastily jumped up, "Here." A cloth was pressed into his hand. "I'm sorry... did you burn yourself?"

His fingers twinged slightly. "Don't bother," he reassured his counterpart, flexing the limbs experimentally, "It'd only a minor burn."

Anakin hummed unconvinced and moved again, rummaging around in the freezing unit judging by the sound. 

Sighing, Obi-Wan leaned back in his chair, placing the towel on the table, "Anakin, really it's..."

"Uh-huh," he ignored him, returning to the table. Something cold was pressed unceremoniously into his hand.

Obi-Wan flinched at the sensation, accidentally jarring his still hurting shoulder. "Warn a man, would you?" he grumbled with a grimace.

"Sorry," Anakin mumbled half apologetically, "But Kix always said to cool burns, remember?"

Of course he did. 

His thoughts kept circling back to his men, to the battles they had survived together. He had always valued the clones as friends. And now to know that they turned against the Jedi for some inexplicable reason did not sit right with him.

Another reason to move forward. 

To fight one last time.

Obi-Wan lowered the hand with the cool pack into his lap. "What do you need to inspect the collar?"

Chapter Text

Chapter 45

"The wound is indeed inflamed," the doctor muttered as he palpated Obi-Wan's stump, making him wince every now and then when the man hit an especially tender spot, "I will prescribe antibiotics for you. You should avoid using the prosthesis for the next two weeks. The wound needs time to heal."

"I understand," Obi-Wan replied, his fingers subconsciously digging into the cot he was sitting on.

"If the inflammation doesn't improve after three days, please come back," the doctor added.

Obi-Wan didn't want to imagine what would happen if that came to pass.

He just nodded silently in confirmation.

At that moment, there was a knock and the door to the treatment room opened, followed by two pairs of familiar footsteps.

"I found this old scanner," Anakin announced without greeting, with an enthusiasm he hadn't lost since childhood, "If I edit the frequency of the signal and the code a little, we should be able to examine the collar on your neck."

Sighing, Obi-Wan sat up slightly, steadying himself with both of his hands on the cot. His right arm protested as he did so, but today he had taken off the sling, somehow feeling the need to have both of his hands free. "Anakin, you shouldn't get your hopes up too high..."

"Well, I'm not just going to stand by and watch how that thing kills you either,“ the man snarked back.

"If you're interested, I'd be worried about the infection on his leg if I were you," the doctor interjected seriously, "If we can't get it under control, even removing the collars won't help."

"Is it that bad?" Ahsoka asked quietly, sitting down next to him on the cot. Obi-Wan tried to shift his stump away even though he knew that she must have already seen it.

"The infection is still in the outer tissue and parts of the remaining muscles," came the explanation, "But should it spread, the severed bone in the stump is the next point of attack. In that case, we would probably have to amputate more parts of the leg."

Obi-Wan clenched his jaw, not liking the prediction in the least. "But you said the antibiotics will help with that."

"They can, yes. But for the drugs to work, the body needs rest and as little exposure to stress as possible," the doctor paused, "And to me, you don't seem to be in a stress-free environment."

"But if we don't remove the collar as soon as possible, he can't heal," Anakin argued, "You can see for yourself how sick he looks."

"You know, I'm sitting right in front of you...," Obi-Wan grumbled, making a face.

Anakin huffed. "No offense, Obi-Wan, but you're pale as a sheet."

Before he could defend himself, the doctor intervened. "Mr. Kenobi, I have to say that your friend is right. It's obvious that your back is causing you increasing discomfort and it also seems to me that you can't move your right arm properly."

Ahsoka gave him a light nudge in the side - a reprimand. "You didn't tell him?"

He could already picture the doctor raising his eyebrows accusingly. "Didn't tell me what?"

That was exactly why he hated seeing the medics. Sighing, he gave in. "A few days ago... I had a seizure. I fell and dislocated my right shoulder."

"And you didn't think it would be appropriate to tell me about it?"

Swallowing thickly, his hand wandered up to his forearm, clawing at the scar tissue that was there.

Thirteen.

Obi-Wan knew it was that exact number they had branded on him.

"Please stop," he croaked desperately, jerking helplessly in the restraints that held him to the cold table. He could take no more. The all-consuming pain had rubbed him raw, trapping him in his world of darkness.

They didn't let him lose consciousness. The chemicals they injected into his veins made sure of that.

The reply was an amused laugh. "I won't stop until I get what I want, my dear," Arbor crooned, pressing a hand to one of his shattered legs, "Now behave."

The hand was taken away and barely a moment later he felt the cold blade on his chest.

Obi-Wan bit through his lip in an attempt to keep his scream in. He managed to do so until Arbor hit the bone.

A bloodcurdling scream tore from his throat, quickly becoming nothing more than a pitiful rattle as his voice failed him. It felt like his heart was going to squeeze out of his chest - probably through the hole that had just been cut in his chest.

Tears welled in his eyes.

Something was set down beside him with a jarring clatter until his jaw was forcibly clamped shut, effectively silencing him. "Well, well, who's crying?" she scratched away one of his tears with a fingernail, irritating the scar around his eyes, "I've only just started."

An uneasy feeling spread inside him - an anxiety triggered by something buried deep within him. Obi-Wan wished Dex or Padme were there - someone who understood what had been done to him in Arbor's lab.

His silence obviously spoke more than a thousand volumes, or he must have unconsciously grimaced.

It made no difference.

"I'm sorry," the doctor apologized sincerely, "that was presumptuous on my part. I would still like to examine you, if I may."

"I-." What did he actually want to say?

There was a sudden tremor wrecking his body and suddenly he found himself jumping up on one leg, hastily grabbing his crutches and limping - fleeing - in the direction he thought the door was.

Already grasping the handle, he paused briefly. "I- I need a moment."

He offered no more, but stumbled out the door, stopping only when he had somehow made it out of the hospital, sinking shakily down the side of the house. The crutches fell clattering to the floor.

An involuntary sob escaped his throat and he pressed unsteady hands against his eyes, trying to get his breathing back under control.

The panic attack washed over him like one of the giant waves on Kamino, sweeping him along - and threatening to drown him.

Somewhere to his left he heard footsteps, heavy but at the same time cautious, followed by the sound of someone sitting down next to him at a certain distance.

The person did not speak for a moment and Obi-Wan was grateful for it, knowing that he would not be able to answer if he was asked a question.

Obi-Wan gasped for air and dropped his head against the wall behind him, willing his heart not to beat so fast that it hurt.

He spent a few minutes just breathing until he felt he had calmed down enough.

"Do you need anything?" Anakin's voice reached his ear, unnaturally quiet, ".... I have a blanket here... It's pretty cold today."

It was indeed. Obi-Wan had been feeling pain in his bones ever since he had gotten up, turning every movement into agony.

"Thank you," he croaked, letting the warm blanket be draped over his shoulders.

He still found it difficult to speak, especially to Anakin.

But he tries. Even without the Force, I can tell he's serious.

Anakin shuffled along beside him. "When I was still in prison... Palpatine showed me a recording of droids breaking your legs...," he admitted quietly, "He said you died shortly after... and for a brief moment, I was afraid he was telling the truth."

Obi-Wan snorted humorlessly. "Oh, I died..." he breathed, "She just kept bringing me back."

"Anything you want to talk about?"

He licked his chapped lips. "I don't know what there is to talk about ... I was Arbor's lab rat." Memories flooded his mind. "...All this time I wished my heart would just give up. That I wouldn't keep coming back to being strapped to that table.“

His thoughts stopped on the day Dex und Padme came to get him out. „When Padme and Dex finally found me, I had already lost hope.... I resigned myself to the fact that I had been forgotten. Even though I heard their voices and knew they were finally coming for me, I didn't feel anything when Arbor turned off the ventilator. I- I just accepted it..."

"You thought no one would come for you?"

He pressed his lips into a thin line. "Why would it? .... No one knew where I was... and I don't think anyone should have cared."

If Anakin was horrified by his words, Obi-Wan didn't realize it. "I cared...," Anakin muttered, "... for what it's worth. Ahsoka did. Padme did. And Dex did as well."

You have a strange way of showing that you care, he almost said, but he kept his silence instead - he was done fighting.

"Are you going to let the doctor check you out?" Anakin finally asked, "One of us could stay with you. I could also ask mom or Cliegg if that would make you more comfortable..."

A second ticked by.

"What if I decide not to have the check-up?"

"Then we won't fight you about it. I just think it would be better to know if you're well enough before we try to remove that collar."

Obi-Wan picked at his fingers. "There's something you should know about the collar...," he took as deep of a breath as the constricting metal band allowed him, "Every time I try to use the Force or someone else uses it on me - the collar gives off an electric shock."

"What?"

He almost laughed. "Nice feature, isn't it?"

"Obi-Wan, I... I don't know how we're supposed to remove the collar then. I thought I could exploit the weak points in the mechanism and manipulate it with the Force."

Squeezing his eyes shut, he gave a slight smile. "I know. And I still want you to go ahead."

"You could die in the process."

"I know."

"I’m not sure if I can do that."

He only nodded stiffly. "I've had a lot of time to think about it. Even before you came, I already realized that the Mandalorians weren't an option. The journey would be long and dangerous - and it's uncertain whether they would help us at all."

His back twitched painfully and he moved a bit to ease some of the pressure. "My time is running out... either we try to break this thing open with the Force or that's it for me... I don't think I can make it much longer."

"Are you sure you want to entrust me with this?"

„You’re the only person capable of even attempting this.“

"Okay," Anakin's voice was barely more than a whisper, "If you want, I'll try once I've built a working scanner and understand the mechanism."

"Thank you... Anakin."

It was a sliver of hope. A thin thread he could cling too.

And if the universe decided that his time had come - well, he had someone waiting for him on the other side.

Chapter Text

A few days later

Obi-Wan lay back on the soft bed, letting the doctor attach a monitoring bracelet around his wrist and some electrodes to his chest.

Somewhere at his head sat Anakin, silently tapping with one of his feet on the floor.  "Are you absolutely sure you want to do this...?" he finally asked, nervousness clinging to his voice, "You know once I start, I won't be able to stop."

Of course he knew that. Anakin had been able to decipher the mechanism with a lot of work, finding out that there were many small metal rods inside the collar, which had slid into each other and mostly fused together. They had to find the weak points of these connections and break them one by one without ever losing their grip on the individual bars once they had been pulled back - otherwise the small metal spikes that were already drilling into Obi-Wan's neck would shoot out, effectively choking him on his own blood.

"I'm sure, Anakin," he returned, "you know that's the only way."

"Yes, of course," his former Padawan's voice was hoarse, "I just don't like doing this to you."

He didn't know what to say. "I can only ask you to do this...," he decided, "But if you choose not to, I'll have to accept that."

"No, I'll do it," Anakin stood up, "... Of course I will."

"I have prepared the syringes with the force-suppressor here," the doctor explained, setting it down somewhere to Obi-Wan's left, "... and you should wear those... to protect you from the electricity."

With a snap, Anakin pulled on the thick rubber gloves that would ensure that he could continue to touch Obi-Wan even when the collar was activated and emitting electric shocks.

They had a plan. Once the collar was off, he would be injected with the force-suppressant, as he could not judge for himself whether he would be able to control himself once he could touch the Force again.

It was essential that he could shield his presence so that Sidious could not localize it. Until they were sure of that, they would fall back on the force suppressors, as bitter as that felt.

"And you should take this," the doctor continued, placing something in Obi-Wan's hand.

Frowning, Obi-Wan took the small rubbery object, trying to feel what it was. Somehow his mind did not supply him with a sensible answer. "What is it?" he asked, a little irritated.

"It's a mouth guard...," Anakin was the first to answer.

"... exactly, so you don't bite your tongue off," the doctor finished the sentence.

Obi-Wan huffed as he ran his fingers over it.

More likely to muffle my screams.

Well, he couldn't say he didn't like having something to bite on. Even if he hadn't admitted it, he was afraid - terrified, if he was honest.

Another bitter thought crossed his mind.

"I- we have to keep me from lashing out...," he muttered, "It's too risky for me to hit Anakin."

It seemed as if Anakin understood him immediately.

"Oh, no, forget it. We will not tie you down," he argued, aghast.

"It's not that you can hold me down while trying to open the collar.... And the good doctor here certainly isn't strong enough," he turned in the direction where he heard the doc's voice before, "No offense."

"... non taken."

He could almost feel Anakin's burning gaze on him. "I don't think you're going to hit me."

Sighing, Obi-Wan sat up once more. "You should know better than anyone what happens when you're exposed to electric shocks," Force knows, both of us have been subjected to more than enough, "All I have to do is accidentally touch you and our plan is ruined... and I can't and won't risk that."

He then heard Anakin curse softly, finally accepting that he was right. "When this is all over, I need a drink..."

Not just you.

"I'll go see if the hospital has anything suitable," the doctor muttered, audibly nervous. The man left the room almost frantically, leaving the two men alone.

Exhaling through his nose, Obi-Wan lay back down, unable to stop his mind from spinning.

"Are you sure you're okay with this?" Anakin poked him again, "You kind of were... terrified when the doctor tried to examine you earlier."

No, I am not okay with this. I'm probably going to kick and scream if the electricity burning through my veins does it for me.

"I'll be fine," he mumbled, absently scratching his forearm where the scar was.

A weight settled beside him and he realized that Anakin must have sat down on the edge of the bed. "... you don't have to fool me, you know?"

His fingers lingered over the bulges that adorned his skin. Suddenly it was hard to speak.

"You scratched the... the scar bloody," Anakin breathed, now standing up and looking for something a moment later. When he had apparently found what he was looking for, he resumed his seat, pausing for a moment. "I have something here to clean and a bacta patch... may I?"

Obi-Wan's fingers curled around himself before he finally let go of his forearm, holding it out to Anakin.

The alcohol burned as Anakin carefully dabbed at the wound, followed by the soothing sensation of the bacta patch being applied.

He quickly withdrew his arm in response, resisting the urge to begin scratching again. "... thank you."

"Of course."

"I don't know why I keep doing this," he admitted quietly, feeling ashamed.

Like a broken toy - used until it cracked and then left to decay.

"I know that feeling...," Anakin replied, his voice small, "Sometimes I catch myself scratching the scar where they removed the slave detonator."

Obi-Wan remembered well the small scar on Anakin's thigh - no more than an inch long, but still as serious as any larger one.

He was at a loss for words, so he just let the silence speak for itself.

Anakin gave a small laugh. "I never told you, but... I had a tattoo placed over it.... It kind of helped with the itch."

Snorting, Obi-Wan quirked up an eyebrow. "You mean the little astromech? I've definitely seen it."

"And you didn't say anything?"

"Why should I? After all, it's not illegal."

Anakin chuckled in disbelief before becoming serious again. "What I meant to say is that you might as well have it covered up... it might help."

Obi-Wan couldn't quite match his enthusiasm. "What use is a tattoo to me if I can't see it?"

"Well, it changes the feeling..."

He did not let Anakin finish. „It doesn’t change what happened either,“ he snapped, a strange burn settling inside him.

Anakin was silent for a moment and when he spoke again, it was as if his confidence had disappeared. "... no, I guess it doesn't."

A voice whispered that he had been too harsh, but he couldn't listen to it.

His fingers again crept up towards the bacta patch that now covered the number on his forearm.

The door to the treatment room opened and the doctor stepped in again, having brought something with him judging by the clattering sound that accompanied the man's steps. "I found these."

"Those should work," Anakin commented, now carefully neutral.

Obi-Wan felt bad for lashing out but there was nothing he could do about it now. "Then let's get this over with..."

It didn't take them long to secure his wrists in the padded leather cuffs and pull two more straps across his chest and thighs, effectively pinning him to the bed.

Anakin was touching his head, the rubber gloves feeling uncomfortably cold against his head and neck. He just wanted everything to end.

"Ready?" the other man asked one last time.

"Hmph," he gave his muffled reply around the mouth guard.

It’s not like I can run anymore.

"Okay, then I'll begin now."

Obi-Wan squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to prepare himself, but it was no use.

The electricity shot into his neck the second Anakin began to manipulate the collar.

A muffled scream escaped his throat and he writhed on the cot, tugging at the restraints with all the strength his tortured body could muster.

If anyone spoke to him, he couldn't hear them because the loud whistling in his ears blocked out any sound.

It felt like he had been thrown into lava, every inch of his body burning. Obi-Wan tried to gasp for air, but he couldn't - the collar felt tighter than ever.

Panicked, he tried to pull himself up, tried to tell them he couldn't breathe, but he couldn't be heard. His heart stuttered painfully and then - nothingness.

 With a creaking sound, a gap finally formed in the collar and Anakin wasted no time in pulling it open further, freeing the metal ring, still sparking with electricity, from his friend's neck. His gloves were slick with bright red blood, both coming from the small holes in Obi-Wan's neck as well as his nose.

Struggling to get a grip on the now bloody material, he pulled with all his strength, finally opening the collar wide enough for Obi-Wan's neck to fit through.

The electricity vanished as quickly as it had come, now that the Force wasn’t used anymore.

Anakin hastily discarded the collar into a tray beside him, pulling off the gloves in the same motion.

He immediately cradled Obi-Wan's head, easing the mouth guard, which now showed deep teeth marks from his mouth.

There was no reaction.

"Obi-Wan?" he asked cautiously, dread settling in his gut.

Immediately the doctor was at his side, taking the vitals. "He's not breathing," he stated, now directly feeling his throat, "His throat is swollen shut."

Anakin jumped aside as if on autopilot to make room for the man, watching in a trance as he first inserted a tube into Obi-Wan's windpipe and then connected it to a ventilator.

Another machine emitted a loud, continuous beeping sound, causing the doctor to curse sharply. "Cardiac arrest. Starting reanimation."

Chapter Text

Patience had never been one of his strong suits. Obi-Wan had tried again and again over the years to get it into his head, but the lessons had never stuck.

Right now, it felt like that was exactly what was coming back to bite him.

Anakin stared at Obi-Wan's still form on the bed, breathing tube still stuck in his mouth and his chest steadily rising and sinking. In his mind, he wanted to categorize it as a sign of life - but he knew he couldn't, wasn't allowed to. The machines next to the bed took over the job that Obi-Wan's lungs were supposed to do.

The doctor had said that there was no telling when or if he would wake up again.

An overwhelming emptiness had spread inside him. He had been sitting on the side of the bed for six days now, just waiting for something. Ahsoka kept him company, her concern irradiating of her in almost blinding waves. She had kept bringing him food, trying to coax him outside for maybe just a few minutes, but he couldn't be moved.

It's my fault he's lying here.

What was the point of removing the collar if he lost his life in the end?

No, his place was here at Obi-Wan's side. Until the day he woke up.

Or they turned off the machines.

Anakin looked at Obi-Wan's face, still barely able to bear seeing that scar, the scar I caused myself. Most of the time, people seemed relaxed when they slept. Obi-Wan somehow did not. The deep lines on his forehead still had not ceased as if he was constantly frowning of pinching his face in pain.

Is he in pain?

He had been told that there was no sign that Obi-Wan was actually awake somewhere in there, but locked in his own body. Anakin found that hard to believe as he looked at his friend's face.

They also said that he could talk to him. Whether it was really for the purpose of Obi-Wan hearing him or his own mental state, he couldn't say.

So far he had kept rambling about everything that came to his mind. Mostly memories. Past missions. Sacred moments they had shared even though he had never admitted it openly to the other man.

Nevertheless, he had avoided talking about certain things until now. He kneaded his fingers nervously, the sound of the machines drilling into his head.

"I never appreciated you enough...," he murmured quietly, his gaze fixed between his feet, "I- I always took the things you did for granted."

He sniffled, a tear dropping between his feet. "You've probably figured it out by now, but Padme and I are married...," he paused, wiping a hand over his eyes, "I was so afraid to tell you. I was convinced that you would betray me to the Council."

Anakin looked up, his eyes settling on Obi-Wan. "But I misjudged you again, didn't I? Would you have approved? Would you have been happy? Blast, would you even have been my best man?," more tears trailed down his cheeks, "What would you have done, Obi-Wan? ...Sometimes - sometimes I feel like I don't know anything about you."

His mouth was dry. "Maybe I should have cared enough to ask."

A hollow laugh escaped his throat. "You know a while ago I had this dream... there was peace in the galaxy and- and Padme and I had two beautiful children, twins to be exact. A boy and a girl," he swallowed hard, "I know me being a father is a horrible idea, but that's not my point here..."

Anakin leaned back in his chair, staring blankly ahead. "...the point is... you were there too, as their uncle sort-of."

"I know that was nothing more than a dream, but sometimes, sometimes I wish it was a reality," he chuckled non-chalantly, "You've always been good with kids."

His eyes glinted in the sterile light of the hospital. "I think you would have made a wonderful father too."

Except that Satine is dead and she took your joy with her.

Somehow the fact that Obi-Wan never told him about her kept bugging him.

But now was not the right time.

"You deserve to be happy," he murmured, "Not... not whatever this is."

The door to Obi-Wan's room opened and Anakin wiped his eyes again, but not fast enough for Ahsoka not to notice.

"Hey," she said softly, eyeing him for a moment before shuffling into the room and closing the door behind her. Her eyes wandered to Obi-Wan. "Any changes?"

Anakin shook his head haggardly. "No," he replied, struggling to keep his voice from breaking.

Ahsoka tipped her head, frowning with concern. She continued to linger at the door for a moment until she finally came over to him, settling down next to him. "And how are you?"

Her question brought his thoughts to a screeching halt, leaving him numb for a second. "I-...," he didn't know what he wanted to say, "Not really well, I suppose."

"Is there anything I can do for you?"

He let out a choked laugh. "You could wake him up," he whispered, his throat feeling tight.

A small hand snaked into his, pressing it gently. "You know I can't do that."

His fingers trembled as he continued to struggle and Ahsoka held him tighter in response.

"It's not your fault," Ahsoka breathed, "You tried your best."

A flinch went through his body and he pulled his hand away, letting it claw into his knees instead. "Without me, we wouldn't be in this situation... I did this to him."

Silence stretched between them, interrupted only by the beeping of the ventilators.

The noise had started to hurt in his ears hours ago. But it was okay, it was the least he deserved.

He would sit here until he went deaf.

"I don't think that's what Obi-Wan would have wanted," Ahsoka broke through his thoughts.

"I don't know what he wanted," he almost snapped before turning quiet again.

"If you truly believe that, then I question who is really blind here."

Sometimes he wondered where she got her silver tongue.

Obi-Wan.

Had they talked to each other more often?

Suddenly it felt like he had been left out of something, like he missed a vital part of life.

"Enlighten me then," he ground out.

Ahsoka took a deep breath, shifting in her seat. "It's you, Anakin. He always wanted to make you happy."

He pressed his lips into a thin line. "I don't understand why.... I- I never offered anything in return."

"Sometimes I think he was trying to give something he never had himself," the girl murmured.

His mind rattled as he tried to understand. "You mean he wasn't happy?" He tilted his head in her direction.

"At least he tried to be. But I asked him about Master Jinn once and... something felt off about their relationship. There was so much pain in his eyes," she paused, "Like an old wound had been torn open and he was futilely trying to stop the bleeding."

"I guess having your master die in your arms will do that to you."

"There's more," Anakin found Ahsoka's gaze fixed on Obi-Wan's still form, "I felt it."

Frowning, he followed her gaze. He had only known Qui-Gon for a few weeks. Obi-Wan himself had hardly spoken about the man and Anakin had never asked - not because he didn't care, but because he himself had not been able to bear the look in Obi-Wan's eyes after Qui-Gon's death.

I should have made him talk.

"I always felt that I would be crossing a line if I asked him," he finally admitted, "...he always preached that jedi do not form attachments."

Ahsoka snorted. "There's a difference between caring for someone and attachment.... Besides, you didn't really seem to take the latter seriously either - except for him."

Anakin slumped a little, defeated. "If you're just here to keep throwing my mistakes at me, then you'd better leave."

"Sorry."

Grunting in response, he leaned his head back against the wall behind him.

"Did you know he kept an engagement ring for Satine?" Ahsoka suddenly blurted out, like her words meant nothing.

"What?" he sputtered, jerking his head around so fast it made the muscles in his neck ache.

She didn't look at him. "The last time I was in the temple... I found the ring in a box in his room, along with a few other things that must have meant something to him."

By now he had found out that Obi-Wan had loved Satine. But the ring - had he wanted to leave the Order to be with her?

What made him stay?

He never told me about Satine. Was it only fair that I hadn't told him about Padme either?

Something started to simmer under his skin and he didn't know how to make it stop again.

"You're projecting."

Anakin clenched his teeth. "Why did he never say anything?"

"Probably for the same reason you didn't."

"I wasn't the one who preached all the time that you can't have attachments."

He was angry now.

Ahsoka just sighed. "You should know that as a master to a padawan, you have to fulfill certain obligations, whether you like it or not."

The beast inside him growled. "Seems like you know him better than I did," he said bitterly.

"I'm not here to argue, Anakin."

"Then what's your point?"

"My point is that you two are more alike than you might be comfortable with."

With that, the teenager stood up, briefly walking over to the bed to squeeze Obi-Wan's hand, which of course he didn't notice, and then heading towards the door.

She stopped once more in the doorway. "Your mother is worried, by the way. Maybe you should make an appearance."

Anakin stared as the door closed behind his Padawan.

His beast hissed again, but Anakin now kicked it back towards the darkness, slamming the door shut even as it wailed. The fire inside him cast an ominous shadow of a dark figure that seemed to stare into his soul.

A heavy breathing noise accompanied by some mechanic clicking filled his mind and Anakin scrambled to pull himself back towards reality, drowning the flames as he did so.

The hospital room came back into focus and the breathing he had heard turned again into the noise of the ventilator Obi-Wan was connected to.

„Fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate, hate leads to suffering.“

Breathing heavily, he stared into his master's lifeless face. "Please wake up," he pleaded, sounding small, "I need you here."

His beast roamed behind his bars, just waiting to pounce.

And I don't know if I can defeat it alone.

Chapter Text

He did leave the room after all. After 15 days at Obi-Wan's side and no change at all, his mother had finally persuaded him to accompany her, promising that Cliegg would take his place for that long.

Now he sat at the table in the kitchen, absently poking at the soup with his spoon. He didn't feel hungry.

His mother sat next to him, watching him with concern. "You can't go on like this, Anakin," she murmured, reaching for his hand that held the spoon and gently easing it to rest.

His face was now reflected in the broth, distorted into a grotesque grimace. Stubble grew on his chin, stretching across his face almost like a shadow. "You don't know how it feels...," he paused, swallowing around the lump in his throat, "... to carry this guilt around with you. Knowing you've made a terrible mistake, but- but there's nothing you can do to fix it."

He dropped his spoon into the soup. "I should be lying there, not Obi-Wan."

"He wouldn't want you to destroy yourself like that," Shmi returned quietly, "Even though you may not be able to see it, you two have made really big steps towards each other. Obi-Wan does not hate you, dear."

Anakin huffed. "How can you be so sure? I- I burned his damn eyes out."

"Because I can see it. He loves you far too much, Anakin. You're the brother he never had."

He averted his eyes, everything suddenly becoming too much for him. "I'm a terrible brother then."

"You need to try to look past your mistakes. Otherwise it will eat away at you."

Tensely, he worked his jaw. "Then what do you think I should do?"

His mother took the spoon out of the soup and held it out to him. "First you eat something and then-," she nodded to one of the corners of the kitchen where, surprisingly, the droid leg that the doctors had given Obi-Wan as a prosthesis stood, "then you build him something sensible."

His eyes found the rusty excuse for a leg.

I've always been good at fixing things.

Right?

"Alright," he breathed and eased the spoon out of his mother's fingers, forcing himself to focus on the food again.

I have to do this.

For Obi-Wan.

He took a bite of the soup and it did not taste bad at all, but he was still not hungry. Nevertheless, he emptied the plate and finally pushed it away from him before looking at his mother again. "Happy now?" he asked jokingly, but his attempt at humour fell flat.

Shmi's eyebrows pinched together into a frown. "I'm not doing this to torture you..."

"No, I...," he felt ashamed now, "That's not what I meant, I'm sorry."

Sighing, his mother stood up, taking the plate from its place. "I think Cliegg has some tools in the barn. Maybe you could have a look and see if there's anything useful in there."

For a moment he fixed his gaze on the now empty table before finally standing up too, heading directly for the droid leg. Small flakes of rusted paint crumbled to the floor as he lifted it.

This thing is an infection risk.

Clutching it tighter, he left the house, heading for the barn. Once inside, Anakin deposited his leg on the wooden workbench, his eyes tracing the rows of tools. Luckily it seems that Cliegg had everything he might need.

Except for more parts.

He knew he would have to return to the hospital to get data on Obi-Wan's leg. There was nothing worse than an ill-fitting prosthesis.

Anakin clenched his right hand, letting the fine motors work. It had taken months until his hand had fit him well enough.

"You're still in pain," Obi-Wan stated quietly, watching as Anakin subconsciously grabbed his arm again and again.

"It's fine," he grumbled back, turning away from his master. He didn't want to talk with him right now.

Geonosis was still a way too fresh memory – one neither of them had really talked about until now. Both of them had been hurt, Obi-Wan got stabbed in the leg and he, well, he lost his hand because he wasn’t strong enough.

Somehow he felt like he could have bested Dooku. If Obi-Wan wasn't constantly holding him back in his potential.

"Anakin...," Obi-Wan sounded sad now, but he didn't let it bother him, "... I'm sure someone can take a look. Your prosthetic shouldn't hurt."

Anger bubbled up inside him now, swirling around inside him. "What do you know?" he sneered, stepping into Obi-Wan's space, "You still have all your limbs. You can't even understand."

"Then let me try," his master pleaded, "don't shut me out."

Obi-Wan's hand reached out to him, but Anakin was quicker as something inside him snapped. In a haze, he pushed the supposedly reassuring hand aside and clenched his right hand into a fist, ignoring how it sent lightning through his stump - and let it barrel towards his Master.

Metal collided hard with soft flesh, followed by a sharp, painful intake of breath.

Anakin stepped back, watching now as Obi-Wan writhed around his midsection, barely able to hold himself upright. The man coughed, his face contorted into a grimace of pain.

One of his legs threatened to give way beneath him - the one that Dooku had injured - but instead of helping, Anakin took another step back and released his prosthetic in one fluid motion.

The burning sensation took over, threatening to overwhelm him.

"Take it," he snapped, throwing the prosthetic at Obi-Wan's feet, "Try all you want, Master."

He almost hurtled out of the room then, ghost fingers clenching around each other, rekindling the fire in his stump.

It was only days later that his prosthesis found its way back to him. Padme had handed it to him one evening, telling him that her experts had adjusted it again.

Back then he somehow hadn't made the connection.

That Obi-Wan had given the prosthesis to her, hoping that she had more resources to help than him.

Phantom pains could drive someone mad, making someone do things one would regret later.

He should never have hit Obi-Wan. But the pain had been all-consuming, making him blind.

Shaking his head, Anakin tore himself away from the memory. He would make sure Obi-Wan would not be in such pain.

Determined, he made his way back to the hospital, immediately checking in with Obi-Wan when he arrived.

Of course, there was no change.

The doctors were able to give him a scan of Obi-Wan's legs, as well as some pictures of the amputation site. Those made him sick, if he was honest with himself, but he knew that this information was important.

He could also find some scrap parts, most of them from decommissioned droids or machines.

He could make this work. He was sure of it.

Less than two hours later, he found himself bundled up in the barn, endlessly connecting cables and cutting metal parts just to weld them back together again.

It didn't feel like he was getting anywhere.

"This can't be it," he grumbled, looking at the pile of scrap metal in front of him.

I bulit podracers. I should be able to build a karking leg.

Rubbing a hand over his face, he sat down on the stool, suddenly feeling like he couldn't manage anything at all.

A soft knock on the barn door and a moment later Ahsoka poked her head in, first taking in the mess strewn around the floor and then himself.

Anakin huffed tiredly. "How come you always catch me at my worst?"

Smirking, Ahsoka entered, pulling the door shut behind her. "Maybe because I know you... are you getting anywhere?"

He turned on the chair, turning back to the tangle of cables on the table. "Not really... I feel like I'm in over my head," he admitted.

"Oh," Ahsoka sounded genuinely surprised, now stepping next to him, "You want to walk me through it? Maybe we can find a solution together."

Something stirred inside him as he watched her take a seat beside him.

Like nothing ever happened. Like we are still master and padawan.

I... sure," his voice caught in his throat for a moment and he had to clear his throat, "... the problem is that I haven't managed to get the sensors and motors to work smoothly together yet. The way the prosthetic is now, Obi-Wan would limp like a blasted droid."

Ahsoka leaned forward, taking in his drawn plans and the small computer Anakin was using for adjustments. "Can't you use your arm as a template of sorts?"

Humming, he shook his head sadly. "No," he replied, unlatching his prosthesis to show her, "The doctors have inserted a neuroimplant into my stump, allowing me to actively control my hand with my nerves." He reattached it again. "Obi-Wan doesn't have one. This means that the leg basically has to work independently of him, so recognize which movement Obi-Wan is currently in to enable balance and walking as normally as possible."

The teenager's eyes widened. "And you want to achieve that with this?" she motioned at the pile of junk, "I mean... you need like high-end sensors and motors to achieve what you want."

Anakin huffed. "That's the problem, Snips." Her nickname slipped almost too easily off his tongue.

If him calling her that bothered her, she did not let it show. "Well, then let's see if we can make it work together.“

He watched as she grabbed the plan and then inspected the individual parts. Somehow this very scene filled him with warmth. The normalcy besides that nothing of their situation was close to being normal. But mostly it was the fact that Ahsoka could look at him and there was no fear or hatred in her eyes.

You asked for a second chance - use it... and don't mess up again.

Smiling to himself, he refocused on the project at hand again.

Neither of them knew - or cared - how much time had passed, but after what must have been nearly 3 days, the two sat in front of their first prototype, completely exhausted, the cables not yet covered by plates and still - experimental looking.

Ahsoka rubbed her forehead. "Any idea on how we can test it?"

"Only Obi-Wan can," Anakin mumbled back, similarly exhausted, "But I'm confident the leg will work."

They really had given it their all. If everything worked, even the toes of the prosthesis would be movable.

The teenager only hummed in response.

He slid her some metal parts that would serve as a cover. "Here, let's make sure we remove the rust and then seal the metal."

"Don't you want to take a break?"

Anakin stopped short in his tracks, anxiety suddenly crawling under his skin. "I-..."

No, I can’t stop. I don’t want to be alone with my thoughts again. I can’t tame my beast like this.

"Anakin?" Ahsoka asked quietly, tilting her head worriedly.

"I think I want to keep going..." he mumbled, taking the parts he had given her back and already reaching for the sandpaper, "You don't have to stay."

"It's been three days..." she shook her head, "You need to rest too."

He exhaled and tried to collect himself. "...I can't, Ahsoka."

"You can‘t or won't?" she probed.

He bit the inside of his cheeks and painstakingly began to sand away the rust on the metal.

"Anakin."

"Just leave me alone," he gritted out.

"Why are you doing this to yourself?" she continued to ask instead, unfazed by the anger that began to seep from his edges.

His hands clenched around the metal, his prosthetic almost leaving small dents. "Just stop it."

Ahsoka rudely snatched the pieces from his hands, forcing him to turn to face her. "No. Talk to me. I see how you struggle. Why are you destroying yourself like that?“

He had heard enough. With flashing eyes, he fixed Ahsoka. "Because I don't know what will happen if I let myself rest!" he growled, tapping his head with his finger, "There's something in here I can't control..." He took a deep breath. "...And it's scaring me."

The teenager had straightened in her seat, now blinking at him in shock.

Unable to look at her any longer, he snatched the parts back and turned back to the workbench, continuing with the sanding. "I'll go on here. You do whatever you want."

There was a buzzing in his ears and his vision had narrowed to a tunnel. He only focused on his hands and the pieces in front of him.

I can do this.

He barely noticed how a piece disappeared from his field of vision and the sound of sanding sounded next to him.

Chapter Text

Obi-Wan blinked his eyes open, focusing on a ceiling he didn't recognize.

Frowning, he blinked again. He could see.

Adrenaline pumping through his veins, he sat up on the bed, the covers slipping down to his waist. He frantically scrubbed hands over his face, only to not find a single trace of a scar.

His eyes then trailed down his upper body noticing that most of his scars were absent there as well.

"This can't be real...," he breathed to himself fighting confusion with a bordering panic attack.

Suddenly there was movement beside him, making him realize only now that he was not alone.

"Obi-Wan?" Satine asked hesitantly beside him, sitting up slowly in bed next to him as if he were a wild animal that she might accidentally scare away, "Everything’s alright, dear…“

His heart stuttered to a painful stop and he forgot to breathe, staring at the ghost in front of him. Panic-stricken, he scrambled off the bed as fast as he could, his legs catching in the sheets so that he almost fell face-first to the floor, his arms barely catching him. Obi-Wan hastily pulled his legs free, only taking a millisecond to recognize that his leg was also there again, before backing up against the wall behind him, pressing his back flat against it.

Satine had followed all his movements, concern etched into her face. Slowly, she raised her arms in a gesture that made it clear to him that she meant no harm. "I'm not going to hurt you, Obi-Wan... you're safe here."

Her blue eyes stared back at him, meant to comfort him, but the only thing he saw how the light in her eyes was snuffed out - replaced by this endless void of nothingness.

Shaking he pulled his knees to his chest, hands raking through his hair as he pressed his face onto his legs.

"You're dead...," he croaked, between broken breaths.

Obi-Wan heard Satine get up and somehow that made him jump to his feet, sprinting towards the door before she could round up on him.

None of this is real. None of this can be real.

Stumbling into the living room he heard her call his name but his only thought was to get away.

In front of him was the door to the refresher and he barreled in, locking the door behind him before sinking down against the durasteel.

Tears made their way down his cheeks as he sat on the floor, wondering what he had done to deserve this cruelty.

A soft thud sounded on the other side of the door and he knew that Satine must have settled down. "Obi-Wan, please you have to calm down... I can explain everything to you."

It hurt so much just to hear her voice.

Sweat and loving.

He pressed his trembling hands against his ears in an attempt to block them out, but he couldn't. "Please just go," he begged.

"…Okay," she replied after a moment and he listened as she hesitated briefly at the door before moving away.

His skin was crawling and when he tried to reach for the Force, he found it almost blinding, making him shy away from it.

Again he forced himself to his feet and heaved himself over to the mirror above the sink, taking in his appearance.

There was no scar on his eyes, no gray in his hair. Instead, he looked at least a couple of years younger than he actually was and somehow - healthy.

Obi-Wan ran a hand over his face, his beard, finding this stranger in the reflection doing the same.

He had the strong urge to punch the mirror.

A knock at the door made him whirl around again, staring at the closed door - his last defense.

He didn't dare move, afraid to make a noise, even though he knew she knew he was in here.

"Obi-Wan? Are you in there?" a male, husky voice suddenly asked.

No. No. Nonono.

Choking, he clamped his hands over his mouth, backing away from the door until his back hit the rim of the sink.

"Obi-Wan, please," Qui-Gon's voice was urgent, "Open the door. We only want to help you."

"This can't be real...," he whispered to himself, "... you're both dead."

Suddenly something occurred to him.

Am I dead?

His mind spiraling, he tried to remember what had happened last.

He had been on Stewjon after... well after the thing in Arbor's lab. Anakin had tried to remove the collar around his neck.

The electric shock that had followed had burned terribly, had stolen his breath.

Didn't I make it?

Obi-Wan looked up, steadying his breath.

I need answers.

Pulling himself together, he stepped to the door, his fingers encircling the lock.

Here goes nothing, I guess.

Swiftly he unlocked the door, opening it slowly. Behind it stood his master, looking exactly as he had the last day he had seen him.

Obi-Wan didn't know what to feel, what to think. An odd sensation washed over him, as if he wasn't really awake. His eyes twinged painfully and a slight cramp shot through his leg.

His tongue felt heavy and he did not trust himself to form sensible words.

So he chose silence.

Qui-Gon looked at him with a mixture of sorrow and pain, cautiously approaching him.  "Oh, Obi-Wan ... I wish we could meet again under different circumstances."

He shook his head, his voice catching in his throat.

I don't quite understand.

A warm hand touched his shoulder and he barely suppressed a wince. "You're dying, Padawan."

"Dying?" he echoed stupidly.

But apparently his meager words were enough for him to be understood. Qui-Gon pressed his lips into a thin line and signaled him to go into the living room. Obi-Wan did so, his gaze lingering briefly on Satine, who wore an equally sad expression.

"Sit down," Qui-Gon walked over to the small dining table and pulled back the chairs, settling himself on one.

With all the battles he had fought in his life, he had never felt so tense. Obi-Wan sat down in the vacant chair opposite Qui-Gon, still wary of his surroundings.

"A few weeks ago, Satine and I were drawn here by the Force," his master began to explain, "We didn't realize why we were pulled here at first, but ... then you showed up."

"The moment we found you, it was obvious that something was wrong. You ... you're not like us."

Obi-Wan let his gaze wander between Qui-Gon and Satine. "You mean I'm not dead."

"No, you're not," Qui-Gon fixed him with sharp eyes, "Not yet."

Somehow, this prospect filled him with less worry than it should. Now that the adrenaline was ebbing away, he felt the bone-deep tiredness inside him again.

Maybe I am just tired of it all.

"So what is this?" he asked.

"We think this is some kind of transition to the Force," Satine chimed in, her eyes shining with emotion, "For those for whom the time has not yet come."

"Not my time yet?" he asked incredulously, once again feeling like he was being played for a cruel joke.

For so long he had wished just to be allowed to close his eyes forever.

When will my time finally come?

When will I finally be allowed to leave?

 Qui-Gon grasped his hand on the table before he could move away. "Obi-Wan, you have a life to go back to."

His fingers clenched into a fist under Qui-Gon's digits. "A life?" he snapped, unshed tears welling in his eyes and his voice breaking, "Do you really still want to call my existence a life?" Even if his pain wanted to make his voice fail, the venom that resonated with his words was all the stronger.

His master withdrew his hand. "You survived."

"...They've decided to leave some pieces of me," Obi-Wan corrected scornfully, "There's no surviving when you've long given up."

Satine gasped audibly and he felt guilty for it, but he would not take back his words.

Qui-Gon's eyes softened. "We have time... why don't you tell us your story? Everything."

Obi-Wan narrowed his eyes and laughed humorlessly. "I don't think that's what you want. It's... it's not a nice one."

A hand gripped his again, but this one was softer, more delicate. He opened his eyes to find that Satine had sat down, now gently holding his hand.

The last time he had held her, she had died.

They both did.

Swallowing hard, he stared at Satine's hand, forcing himself not to shake. Something must have shown on his face, because Satine suddenly made a move to pull away, but Obi-Wan caught her hand before she could do so, holding onto it like a lifeline.

"Please... don't," he breathed weakly, allowing himself the moment out of affection even though he knew that none of this was real.

But it could, Obi-Wan, a dark voice whispered, You just need to let go.

Her hand moved back in his direction, intertwining their fingers. Warmth spread into his digits, like something he had lost was trying to slot back into place.

Obi-Wan mentally put up a wall, knowing that he would only find pain if he let this happen.

It will tear you apart as soon as you lose her again.

Scenes of a life that he might have had in another dimension flashed before his inner eye. He heard laughter, himself, Satine and - were there children?  Happiness was the word that best described it all, peace the next thing that came to his mind.

You could have been happy, Obi-Wan, whispered the diabolical voice, but instead you decided to go to war.

No, you did it for your family, countered a much lighter, merciful one, You did it for Anakin. Ahsoka.

Letting out a breath, he lifted his gaze to face Qui-Gon and Satine. "Where do I start...?"

Satine squeezed his hand. "Maybe start the day I died."

So he told them. All of it.

And he only stopped when his throat ached so much that he couldn't formulate words anymore. When the memories he'd been trying to suppress became too much to bear that his throat started to close.

When he fell voiceless, he found himself in dead silence, the universe around him grinding to a painful halt.

Obi-Wan stared at his trembling fingers, which must have tightened on the table in front of him at some point, dislodging from Satine's hold. He didn't dare looking up, too afraid to find himself alone again.

Maybe this was his punishment. Having to relive the most painful parts of his life all over again, having to face the ghosts of his past.

He didn't know what he did to deserve this though.

Chapter Text

Gentle hands pried his fingers away from the table surface, spreading warmth into the limbs that had threatened to turn numb on what felt hours ago.

Obi-Wan didn't notice the first sporadic tears escaping from the corners of his eyes as Satine slowly guided him towards her, her hands gliding up from his to pull him into a hug. His head fell exhausted against her shoulder, his tears staining her shirt.

He wanted to pull away when he realized but Satine held him firm. There was no strength that allowed him to put his arms around her. She was just a ghost, nothing more.

Obi-Wan could not cling to this illusion. Even if he wanted to so badly.

Qui-Gon's watchful gaze kept burning on him, a constant reminder that he shouldn't give in to his temptation.

They are dead, which right do they have to judge me?

Satine's hand crept up to the back of his head and he turned his gaze up from his seated position, eyeing her blurry form.

Somehow he almost felt like a child that needed to be comforted by his mother.

Suddenly feeling embarrassed, he pulled back against Satine's hold, hastily wiping the tears from his face. "... I'm sorry," he forced out.

"There's nothing to apologize for, Obi-Wan," Satine returned calmly and he noticed that her eyes were equally wet as he looked at her more closely, ".... You've been through a lot."

"She's right," the scrape of a chair across the floor sounded and suddenly Qui-Gon was at his side, watching him with concern, "And I think I owe you an apology, Obi-Wan."

A calloused hand settled on his shoulder and he forced himself to look his master in the face, only to find unreserved sincerity.

Obi-Wan swallowed heavily, suddenly struggling to breathe.

Qui-Gon smiled gently. "I'm afraid I took the things you did too much for granted.... Your strength, your wit, your loyalty - your selflessness," the man's eyes were shining in a way Obi-Wan hadn't seen before, "I apologize, Obi-Wan. It was cruel of me to cast you aside for Anakin. It took me a long time to see that - too long. I was blinded."

The Jedimaster squeezed his shoulder in an attempt to hide the shaking of his hands. "I'm proud of you, you hear? I know I never told you that and Force - I hate myself for it."

There were no words to express what he felt, so Obi-Wan kept his silence.

"I know I can't ask for your forgiveness," Qui-Gon continued, "but I hope you can at least look at your old master without feeling pain."

He kept his head lowered, still unsure how to react. He couldn't deny that Qui-Gon's words did him good.

He cares. You're not just a failure.

Even if he had to die first to realize that.

The last thought struck him bitterly, causing an uncomfortable feeling to flare up in his stomach.

It took him a while to find his words. "I... I appreciate your words, master," his throat was painfully dry, "But I think you're right. I cannot forgive you - at least not now."

Qui-Gon's hand slipped off his shoulder, leaving behind a strange sensation of loss. "I... understand."

The Jedi Master straightened, taking a step back. "I'll leave you two alone for now, then."

The man almost hurried out of the room and Obi-Wan couldn't help but stare after him, feeling like he just stabbed the other in the back.

Hurt had leaked into the Force mixing with the never-ending turmoil that crowded this place.

"He'll come around," Satine murmured, rubbing a hand over his back, "Don't think too much about it."

"This is all surreal," was all he produced after a moment, shaking his head as if this would bring him back to reality.

Hands cradled his jaw, forcing his gaze upwards. "Then take a moment to breathe, dear," her fingers trailed up to his temples, "Just breathe."

Obi-Wan huffed und leaned into her touch. Something slipped around his neck, out of the collar of his shirt as he did so, dangling between them like a beacon gleaming in the sunlight.

His necklace. He hadn't even realized that he still had it here.

Satine took hold of the dark beskar shard with one of her hands, eyeing it with a mixture of emotions. "You still have it."

"Of course I do," Obi-Wan admitted, wrapping his own hand around hers, "Never took it off voluntarily."

The beskar reflected in her eyes. "I never told you what they mean, did I?"

He tilted his head. "No, I guess not."

She took the pendant and let it slide between her fingers, as he had often done - whenever he had felt lonely.

"We call them Kar'ta be Beskar, made from a part of the Beskar'gam of the person gifting it," she explained softly, before looking up at him, "They are meant to protect your loved ones. Like an armor."

Loved ones.

'I loved you always. I always will.‘

"I didn't know you owned a set of armor," he smirked, only know catching the slight tint of blue on the metal - probably from the armor's painting.

"Of course I did. I am Mandalorian after all," she jabbed back with a grin before turning serious again, "I never wore it though as you might have already guessed."

Of course I know.

"It's been comforting whenever I felt lost... or sad," he added, "... or when I wanted it all to be over."

Satine let go of the pendant and instead intertwined their hands together, studying him closely. "Did you often feel like this?" she asked quietly.

It was almost impossible to meet her eyes. The shame was too intense - the feeling of having his darkest secrets laid open.

But if I can't trust Satine, I can't trust anyone.

"Yes," he breathed, "So many times I've felt out of place, useless, expandable... unloved," he faltered, the words getting stuck at the tip of his tongue, "I lost my family first, then my home... and then when they just left me in Arbor's lab... I think- I think that's when I lost myself as well."

Tears burned in the corners of his eyes again, but this time he refused to give in to them. "I tried with everything I had... and in the end it didn't even matter. I just wanted to die."

His confession hung heavy in the air between them.

He felt pathetic.

"I wish none of this had happened," Satine breathed, her gaze filled with sorrow, "But no one can change the past. For what is worth, Obi-Wan, you must look to the future. As hard as it will be for you."

Incomprehension spread through him. "What do you mean?" he asked hesitantly, frowning.

Satine gently kneaded his fingers. "You need to let me go, dear."

No. Never.

He shook his head vehemently. "No, I can't do that. I love you, Satine. All I ever wanted was to marry you and be by your side."

Her expression filled with pain. "I'm dead, Ben."

"Then I might be as well," he murmured back.

"You can be happy, Obi-Wan. I know that," Satine tried again, "There will be someone out there for you to love. And I swear to you, you have my blessing to go on. I want you to live. Don't just throw away your chance. If not for your sake, then do it for mine."

That someone is you, Satine. Always have been. Always will until the day I die.

His face became stony. "And if I don't want that? If I decide to stay here? To close that chapter once and for all?"

"Then of course I will accept you with open arms. But also think of the people you will leave behind."

Anakin. Ahsoka. Padme. Dex.

Obi-Wan took a deep breath. "I promised them to fight. One last time."

Satine nodded tightly. "Whenever you feel ready, your Master and I can show you how to make it back to the other side."

For a moment they looked at each other, a little lost, until Obi-Wan finally stood up, still holding Satine's hand. "May I have today? Just you and me?"

Her eyes sparkled with something he hadn't seen for a long time - joy. "You may."

A chuckle escaped his throat and he found himself genuinely smiling. Finally giving in, he pulled her into a tight hug, which she returned eagerly. His lips found hers and when they eventually pulled away from each other Obi-Wan questioned if that is what it would have felt like if he had been granted a life at Satine's side.

A warm feeling spread inside him, as if something was beginning to heal, even if only ever so slightly.

For a few hours, he wanted to be able to forget his worries - and that was exactly what he did. They'd spent their limited time talking, laughing, reminiscing on memories long past. And by the end of the day Obi-Wan fell asleep with Satine in his arms - his mind for once at peace.

The next morning he was awakened by a gentle kiss on his cheek, pulling him from his slumber. Obi-Wan found Satine's crystal blue eyes directly in front of his and reached out to caress her face, brushing a strand of blonde hair behind her ear as he did so.

It made him almost forget that she was nothing more but a ghost.

"Good morning, dear," she murmured before he found his words, sending him one of her smiles that had burned themselves into his mind.

Obi-Wan hummed and grimaced playfully, letting his head slump against the pillow. "Just one more hour...," he grumbled, feigning to fall asleep again.

He was more than surprised when he actually dozed off again, only waking up several hours later. Blinking, he sat up on the bed, feeling rested for the first time in what felt like years.

The side of the bed next to him was empty.

He stood up on light feet, the tiles cold under his bare toes. He trailed out towards the kitchen, where he found Satine.

"Are you making tea?" he asked as he approached, pushing his hair back from his forehead.

Satine looked up from her task, grinning amusedly. "Well look who finally woke up too," she greeted teasingly, continuing to pour the tea into a cup, "But yes, I made you some tea."

Obi-Wan accepted the hot drink, wrapping his hands around the warm mug. "Sorry, I must have been more exhausted than I thought," he returned sheepishly.

Chuckling, Satine eyed him. "You looked like you needed it."

"Probably true," he huffed into the steaming liquid, taking a careful sip, "Don't you take tea?"

Her face fell ever so slightly. "Ben, I'm..."

It clicked before she even fully spoke it.

"...dead. Right," he finished the sentence for her, feeling stupid again.

It was a reminder that he didn’t belong here.

Suddenly no longer thirsty, he put the tea aside and took a step back. "I should get dressed and see if I can talk to Qui-Gon."

Obi-Wan hurried back into the bedroom before Satine could stop him and hastily dressed, pulling his tunic around himself like a protective armor.

When he went out again, Satine was still standing in the kitchen, looking at him with a serious expression.

"... Qui-Gon is probably outside... meditating," she said quietly.

Once again, he found himself at a loss for words. Even though it hurt to see her like this, he nodded silently, knowing that there was no way to mend this wound.

He forced himself to walk out the door, stepping out into a lush garden he hadn't noticed before.

His eyes fell directly on Qui-Gon, who was sitting on a flat stone near a small stream, clearly deep in meditation.

Obi-Wan approached cautiously, settling quietly opposite his master. Not wanting to disturb the other man, he waited patiently until he opened his eyes again.

"Obi-Wan...," Qui-Gon murmured, watching him with a strange expression while he shifted on his spot.

"Master," he tipped his head slightly, "I-I feel that I was unfair in our last conversation."

His mentor blinked at him, for once patiently waiting for him to continue.

"I want you to know that I'm not judging you," the words felt heavy on his tongue, "Your decisions - I understand why you made them... I guess. But there's no denying that it didn't hurt - still hurts."

Obi-Wan sighed. "Nevertheless, I need all the support I can get for what lies ahead.... Even if it means reopening old wounds."

Qui-Gon pressed his lips into a thin line. "It was never my intention to inflict those on you. I was a fool."

He almost laughed. "Let's not dwell on the past, shall we?"

He wasn't ready to face that part of his life again. Not now.

"As you wish, Obi-Wan," the Jedi Master folded his hands in his robes, "Just know that I am here to talk whenever you feel up to it."

"Thank you, master."

"You've made your decision, haven't you? You want to go back."

"Yes," was all he offered.

Qui-Gon stood up. "Then follow me."

The man walked back towards the house, where Satine was already waiting for them. "So this is it? You're leaving?" she asked as they approached.

Obi-Wan came to a halt in front of her, unsure what to do. "Seems like it."

Their eyes lingered on each other until Satine finally stepped forward and pulled him into a hug. "Then take care of yourself, do you hear me? And remember what I told you."

Obi-Wan laughed sadly, returning the hug. "I will, my dear."

After they had separated again, Qui-Gon led him down into a basement where there was a strange, black anomaly.

There was a strong pull in the Force.

"What is it?" he asked, although he already suspected it.

"Your way home," Qui-Gon replied nonchalantly.

He approached hesitantly, now recognizing a faintly glowing thread in the darkness. It felt strangely familiar.

It's mine. This is my life force.

"The bond looks fragile," he stated solemnly.

"Balancing on the brink of death does that to you," his master retorted dryly, "But I'm afraid that's all you have."

An uneasy feeling spread through him.

"So I am just supposed to follow it back towards the other side?"

"That's my guess, yes."

Obi-Wan took another step closer so that he could almost grab the bond when he stretched. "Well, then here goes nothing."

Gathering all the energy he had left, he stepped into the void and reached for the bond. Or at least tried to.

The moment he touched it, the bond began to retreat like a snake, threatening to leave him behind.

Images of a flailing body on a hospital bed filled his vision, followed by screams that were not his own.

Obi-Wan matched those screams in his desperation to find a hold on the bond.

No, you won't get rid of me that easily!

Just as his hands finally seemed to latch on, the bond suddenly jerked - violently backlashing in his direction. It hit Obi-Wan with such force that he was thrown back.

It took a moment before the pain registered.

He screamed as his eyes burned and the world again dimmed around him, futely clawing at his face to stop whatever was ripping his face apart.

Blindly he stumbled back, barely aware that someone was calling his name and that there were arms at his shoulders, stopping him from falling.

It hurts. Ithurts.

The air filled with the smell of iron and he felt something warm and sticky run over his palms, down to his elbows.

„‘bi-Wan!“

„Qui-G’n,… he ‘s bl’ding!“

Obi-Wan could not recognize the voices, they were drowned out by the deafening noise in his ears.

Large hands gripped his wrists, prying them away from his eyes. "Oh Force, Obi-Wan...," gasped a familiar voice, "Try to breathe... I know it hurts."

He was guided to a sitting position on the floor, leaning against someone’s chest.

The burning intensified once more, making him writhe against the arms holding him - before the fire suddenly died out, leaving him gasping for air.

"His eyes...," Satine's voice now reached his ear and despite his spiraling mind, he knew immediately what had happened.

With shaking hands, he groped his face before he could be stopped, scraping crusted blood from the familiar bulging scar tissue around his eyes.

He was blind again.

And I didn’t make it back.

Chapter Text

Meanwhile on Coruscant

The diner in front of him seemed almost unremarkable, a place that bustled with life - even if he had no desire for company. Lowly creatures loitered here in the lower levels, a melting pot of drugs, crime and violence.

A sneer spread across his face. He had a - let's say certain - distain for this place and its inhabitants. One false step and he found himself with a knife at his throat.

Not that it bothered him. You had to be stupid enough to attack an Imperial soldier, let alone one of his standing.

No, it was just that he liked to keep his hands clean. Blood always left ugly marks on his white armor.

Only extremely high-priority missions were assigned to him personally.

Assignments like this one.

The three holopucks sat nestled in the small bag on his belt.

Anakin Skywalker.

Ahsoka Tano.

Obi-Wan Kenobi.

The latter traitor brought him here today. Something itched in the back of his mind when he let the name roll off his tongue, but he shoved it back with efficiency into the dark corner of his mind, where all the other things from before sat... from before that order.

His fingers twitched briefly as he continued to watch the diner, the neon light reflecting of his black visor.

Information from the data surveillance of the spaceport had revealed that Dexter Jettster had left the planet together with Padme Amidala on an unauthorized ship - to Vanqor.

Shortly afterwards, the Emperor had received word that Kenobi had escaped from Arbor's laboratory.

That day, he had lost several good soldiers to the Sith's unbridled rage. It had been a bloodbath - a sight that had sent a shiver down his spine.

Somehow Arbor had been allowed to live on the premise that she would still be needed for research. Not that he had ever seen the woman again since the incident.

Probably only the Emperor himself knew which forsaken place she had been taken to.

He didn't care either. He was here for Kenobi.

Kenobi, who was probably being helped by the owner of the diner.

Checking once more that his blaster and vibroblade were in place, he crossed the square at a brisk pace, hastily brushing aside the few creatures that dared to step into his path as they noticed him.

The diner's guests immediately paused as he stepped through the door, tension filling the air. Placing a hand on his gun, he jutted his chin briefly toward the exit. “Diner's closed,” he murmured, his voice carrying through his vocoder.

Frantically, people jumped up from their seats, scrambling to leave the restaurant. Grinning under his helmet, he turned the sign on the door from ‘Open’ to ‘Closed’, watching out of the corner of his eye as a serving droid disappeared behind the counter in the kitchen.

Checking once more that there was no one else in the room, he finally sat down at the counter, drumming his fingers on the durasteel top.

It didn't take long for his target to enter the room.

Dexter Jettster casually cleaned a glass which he eventually placed next to the tap on the counter, meeting him with a hard-to-read look. “Normally it's the owner's job to close the store,” he commented dryly.

A scoff escaped his throat. “Figured you might want to prevent there being more witnesses than necessary,” he returned.

“Witnesses?” the Besalisk crossed his four arms in front of his chest, "Perhaps you should tell me the reason for your visit, Commander. Or should I say Cody?"

There was a certain smugness clinging to the man in front of him, something he would love to wipe of his face.

Sadly he needed Jettster alive and talking.

“That's still Commander for you,” he murmured back coolly, halting the movement of his fingers, “Don't you normally offer your guests something to drink?”

The cook's eyes darkened. “The diner is closed, as you may have noticed yourself.”

Directly to business then.

“There are records of you leaving Coruscant without authorization,” Cody paused, watching Jettster's expression closely, hoping for a slip, "to Vanqor. I wonder what you wanted there. Especially in Senator Amidala's company."

Amused, his counterpart bared his teeth. "So you're the Empire's errand boy now? Do you have to put up with hunting down poor civilians?"

He didn't let the teasing bother him. Instead, he wordlessly pulled Kenobi's holopuck out of his pocket, sliding it across the counter until it came to rest just before the edge.

“Where's Obi-Wan Kenobi?” he asked slowly.

The tiniest twitch flashed over the Besalisk's face before his expression leveled out again. “How should I know?” he asked back calculatedly.

The traitor's holoprojection hummed softly between them.

“Perhaps because Kenobi's last known position was Vanqor,” Cody pressed on, “A convenient coincidence, don't you think?”

Jettster didn't let on and just tilted his head. “I have not seen Kenobi since his arrest,” he stated firmly, “... and now I wish you to leave my restaurant, Commander.”

“Mr. Jettster, I would like to remind you that withholding relevant information and aiding imperial wanted persons is a crime.”

The Besalisk uncrossed his arms and leaned with all four of his arms on the counter, inching close to his helmet. “Is that a threat?”

The man was so close that his breath caused his visor to fog up briefly.

Cody took his hand from the table and wiped it demonstratively across the black visor. After that he returned his limb to its previous resting position. “This is a reminder of your duties as a good citizen of Coruscant.”

Green eyes blinked at him before a deep rumble escaped his counterpart's throat, evolving into an untamed laugh.

Cody narrowed his eyes unamused, his scowl invisible to the other man.

A transmission crackled to life inside his helmet.

"Commander, we are about to approach Senator Amidala. Awaiting orders."

A grin stretched across his face as Jettster fell silent, now looking at him somberly.

Interesting how they all cave in to the same threats.

Accentuated, he activated his own commlink, never taking his eyes off the Besalisk. "You may proceed. I'm done here."

With these words, he stood up from the bar stool, grabbed the holopuck from the counter and turned towards the door. The air vibrated with the sense of danger. The sound of durasteel scraping on durasteel reached his trained ears.

A blaster being dragged across the counter.

“If I were you, I would reconsider your plan,” Cody noted coolly, continuing to the door and taking the handle, only to pause again briefly, “You will find that the Empire is not as forgiving as the Republic.”

The hand on the blaster stilled.

Good.

Tipping his head briefly in the direction of the cook, Cody opened the diner door. “It's been a pleasure, Mr. Jettster.”

The man's green eyes almost burned into him, filled with anger, and somewhere that very expression stirred something like glee inside him.

Turning away, he finally left the restaurant, meeting his soldiers halfway.

“I want you to intercept all transmissions and monitor every little movement in this building,” he ordered as he walked on, "If Jettster so much as sets a toe outside, I want to be the first to know. Do you understand that?"

“Sir, yes, sir!”

Now it was time to wait. Sooner or later, the rats would leave their hiding place.

Dex stared after the commander as the man left his restaurant. He set off as soon as the door closed, hurrying around the counter to lock the door. After he had done so, he paused briefly at the window, peering out over the dark square.

The white armor of the stormtroopers contrasted harshly with the dirty gray of the lower levels.

Baring his teeth, he stepped back.

It was time to leave, to leave Coruscant for good. Padme and he had hatched an escape plan just before their return, which would come into effect the moment the Imperials started asking too many questions.  

If he was honest, Cody's appearance had shaken him. He had known the commander well, had been sure that he would protect Obi-Wan with his life. Of course, that had also been true the other way around.

Obi-Wan had always spoken highly of his commander, always with that hint of a smile that spoke of unbridled fondness.

'A loyal companion and a dear friend.‘ That was what he had said.

Dex hadn't been able to find any of it behind the black visor. What remained was an empty, cold shell of a once luminous presence that still bore the name and face of a former friend.

It was inexplicable to him what had happened to cause the clones to ruthlessly stab the Jedi in the back.

What had led them to murder them all.

Grimacing, Dex turned away and walked towards the stairs leading up to his apartment, grabbing the blaster from the counter as he passed.

Once in his apartment, he hurriedly pulled out the vibroblades and a bag he had hidden under a floorboard. He methodically strapped two of the blades around each of his forearms before slipping the last one into his boot.

He shoved the blaster onto his belt and finally threw on his coat before slinging his backpack over his shoulders. Last but not least, he grabbed the commlink from its hiding place, which only had a few encrypted frequencies stored in it.

He paused for a moment, his gaze fixed on Coruscant's skyline. Somewhere he had never thought he would be forced to flee again in his life. He had tried to leave his dark past behind him, had built up something here with his restaurant - and had fulfilled himself a wish.

All this only to lose it again.

His fingers clenching, he turned away, his heart strangely aching.

Dex crept down the stairs, making sure he couldn't be seen from outside the building, before opening a hidden hatch in the floor of the kitchen. Behind it was a narrow supply tunnel, a remnant from his smuggling days. Since the Empire had taken over, he was glad that he had taken care of its maintenance.

Descending into the tunnel, he pulled the hatch shut behind him, plunging himself into darkness for a moment as it snapped shut. Pausing briefly, Dex stared ahead of him before turning on his flashlight and beginning to walk down the tunnel.

It ended in Coruscant's sewer system, the sickening stench held back only by a sort of airlock gate that Dex had to pry open.

Holding an arm in front of his nose, he waded through the knee-deep sewage, the acrid steam bringing tears to his eyes.

In front of him, a rat scurried across the narrow footbridge at the edge of the canal, its eyes reflecting yellow as it crossed the light of the lamp.

Above him ran the many winding alleys of the lower levels, by now probably being searched by Imperials.

He had to hurry if he wanted to make it to the spaceport undetected.

Dex picked up the pace, struggling to move forward as the clay-like substance almost seemed to grip his legs.

When he finally reached his destination, Dex clutched the rungs of the ladder like a life line, knowing that his window of escape was probably closing.

He climbed up, heaving the manhole cover aside to peer out. In front of him was a thankfully deserted alley, soaked in the shadows left by the otherwise glaring signs. He heaved himself out of the hole before closing the manhole again.

Scurrying down the alley, he only stopped when he reached a major intersection that still separated him from the harbor.

It was swarming with soldiers.

Cursing, Dex retreated into the shadows, wondering if he should dare cross the intersection.

His hesitation cost him valuable time.

Time that his opponents obviously knew how to use. A blaster clicked at his back and he whirled back, drawing his own weapon - but it was already too late.

The shot rang out, tearing into the soft flesh of his left leg.

Dex howled as his leg gave way, bringing him down onto one of his knees, but he wasn't known to give up without a fight.

Half blind he whipped his rifle around, firing in the direction of his attacker as he forced himself back to his feet.

He managed to duck behind a house wall before the next volley of fire whistled around his ears. The shots were worryingly accurate - definitely from a clone and not one of the new soldiers the Empire was adding to its military.

“I thought we were done, Commander,” he called from his hiding place, sliding down the wall so that he came to rest flat on his stomach, trying to aim his blaster into the alley behind him. He couldn't spot anyone.

“It seems we are not, Mr. Jettster.” The voice sounded from somewhere at the end of the alley and Dex caught a flash of white just before another blaster bolt flew towards him, forcing him to retreat back behind the wall.

Gritting his teeth, Dex went through his options. It wasn't far to the spaceport. But there was no way he'd be fast enough with his leg - not with the Imperials at his heels.

He needed to take them out. “Is it forbidden to go for a walk now?” Dex stalled as he scanned his surroundings for more soldiers, finding two on the roof above him and another three near the crossing down the street. Plus the good commander.

None of them had a free line of sight on him which was his advantage for now but Dex was under no illusion that the situation could escalate within seconds.

“I wouldn't exactly call fleeing through the sewers a walk in the park,” Cody returned, still patiently waiting.

Dex huffed out a laugh. “Minor inaccuracies, don't you think?”

His words were ignored. "We don't have to fight. Turn yourselves in and I promise nothing will happen to you," the commander offered.

“Lying doesn't suit you, Commander,” Dex bit back, mentally bracing himself, "... and your negotiating skills leave a lot to be desired. I would have expected you to have learned more."

This time his answer was received. At a signal he couldn't see, the soldiers began to advance, opening fire as soon as they spotted him.

Rolling out of the line of fire, Dex fired back, killing two of the soldiers with well-aimed headshots.

Their advance had been a mere distraction, he realized the next moment.

A grenade rolled in front of his arms - too far away for him to grab it and hurl it back. Too close for him to have any chance of escaping unscathed.

Dex twisted around as far as he could with one working leg and scrambled as far away as his body would allow.

The next moment his vision was filled with a blinding white, followed by acrid smoke and the smell of burning flesh.

His leg was caught in a limbo of being dangerously numb and feeling like someone just ripped his skin off.  He didn't need to look to know that it was bad - maybe even lethal by the alarming amount of red that he caught with his blurring vision.

Struggling to keep breathing through the pain, he barely noticed how Cody approached almost nonchalantly, his white boots carefully moving around the puddles of crimson.

“You should have just listened to me, Jettster,” the clone said coolly, looking at him through his visor like he was a puny maggot.

The disgust was almost palpable and Dex couldn't help but feel the same for his opponent.

“Fuck you,” he growled, raising his blaster and firing.

Cody didn't even try to move - he probably didn't expect Dex to try anything. The blasterbolt shattered his chest armor, burying itself into the soft flesh beneath.

Dex watched as the commander collapsed, uncoordinatedly fingering at the plastoid chunks that kept crumbling from his chest.

He might have laughed at the irony of the whole situation if he'd still had the strength. As it was, the ground came up to meet him, his head hitting the hard asphalt hardly as he lost consciousness.

When he regained his bearings, the first thing he felt was the biting pain in his battered leg, the first thing he saw was the inside of a poorly lit cell lined with durasteel.

There were rust-red stains on the floor, which already revealed everything about the purpose of this room.

Wincing, Dex tried to shift his weight onto his good leg by pulling himself up by the chains that had been used to attach his arms to the wall above his head.

Nausea threatening to overtake him, he dared to bend his leg - only to find it twisted morbidly beneath him, shrapnel still clinging to it, half-hanging in a bright red puddle.

Someone had tied a tourniquet around his thigh, the only thing keeping him from bleeding to death.

“Shit,” he hissed through clenched teeth, tilting his head back so that it was resting against the wall on his back.

Guess there is no walking out of this for me.

As if on cue, the cell door opened, blinding him so much with glaring white light that black spots formed in his field of vision.

Blinking, he still made out two figures, one dressed in familiar armor, the other clad in a black robe.

Dex mentally braced himself, putting on a neutral expression, which he carefully supplemented with a smug smile. “Chancellor... Commander, to what do I owe the pleasure?” he probed.

The door to the hallway slid shut again, shrouding them in darkness for a moment before a dim, reddish light filled the room, effectively hiding the bloodstains from their eyes.

He watched as Cody adjusted his blaster, observing with satisfaction that the man's movements were accompanied by a certain stiffness. Cody may have replaced his shattered breastplate, but Dex knew the blaster wound was still fresh on his flesh.

Even Bacta doesn't heal that fast.

“Dexter Jettster,” the Sith drawled, “It has come to my attention that you are withholding relevant information from us.”

The chains rattled as Dex shifted his stance. “I know nothing of the sort,” his lips thinned, “But even if I did, I would never speak.”

Amber eyes flashed under the black hood, accompanied by a grin that made his blood run cold. “You don't have to speak for me to know what I want.”

A gnarled, cold hand suddenly reached out and came to rest against his forehead. Dex had maybe a second to react before pain like he'd never felt before shot through his head - ripping apart his mind like it was nothing.

A loud noise reached his ears that registered somewhere as his own screams, soon turning into a desperate choking as his breath failed him.

His legs spasmed beneath him, threatening to fail him.

As quickly as it had begun, it was all over again. The hand withdrew and Dex found himself slumping in his chains, blood dripping from his nose, mouth and ears.

He had no voice to speak anymore, no strength to fight. So he glowered at his opponent instead, as a last act of defiance.

A low chuckle echoed through the room. “They are on Stewjon.”

Chapter Text

A thunderous boom reverberated across Stewjon as the Star Destroyer pierced the atmosphere, followed by a suffocating stillness that seemed to steal the very air from his lungs.

Anakin stood frozen, his gaze locked on the looming vessel, the weight of inevitability settling on him like a suffocating cloud. His mind raced, frantic and desperate.

How could we have missed them? How did they find us?

A sharp tug on his arm jolted him from his thoughts. Ahsoka’s voice broke through the silence, urgent and pleading. "Anakin, we have to leave. Now!"

His eyes met hers, cold and resolute. "I can't."

She stared at him in disbelief, her face contorted with confusion and fear. "You can't? What do you mean? They're going to kill us-"

Her words faltered as she saw the grim resolve in his expression. Slowly, the truth began to sink in. "Oh no... forget it."

Anakin's voice was quiet, each word heavy with finality. "Obi-Wan is in no condition to be moved. And I’m not leaving him behind. You need to take the ship, get my parents, and go."

Ahsoka’s eyes flared with defiance. "You need me here, Anakin. I’m not abandoning you."

Anakin’s hand found her shoulder, a rare touch of tenderness in the midst of the chaos. "No, Ahsoka," he said softly, "They need you more. Please."

His grip tightened, a flicker of vulnerability in his voice. "We both know why they’re here. And they won’t stop until they have me."

Ahsoka’s eyes filled with frustration and pain. "And then what? You’ll let Sidious turn you again? Will you finish what you started? You can’t do this alone, Anakin. You don’t stand a chance."

Her words struck deep, cutting through him like a blade, but his resolve remained unshaken. He would not be dissuaded.

„Go,“  he breathed, „That’s all I ask of you.“

For a moment it looked like she wanted to fight him further but then she relented. Her eyes sparked with something he couldn’t place as she stared at him for a moment longer before she wordlessly turned around and took of towards the house.

Anakin swallowed heavily, watching her go. „I’m counting on you, Snips…“

He turned, his movements swift and deliberate, as he leapt into a speeder, heading straight for the hospital. The first of the smaller ships began to descend ominously above him, the weight of urgency pressing down. Time was slipping through his fingers. With a grim resolve, he slammed his foot down on the gas pedal, pushing the speeder into a reckless, neck-breaking speed.

Upon reaching the medcenter, he barely allowed the vehicle to come to a full stop before throwing himself out, his boots slamming into the ground with unrestrained force. He barreled through the entrance, startling a handful of doctors and nurses as he moved past them, every step driven by a singular need.

Obi-Wan's room was in the intensive care unit, all the way at the end of the corridor. Anakin’s hands shook, a cold sweat creeping down his neck as he reached for the door. He tore it open without a second thought, his breath ragged with fear.

A doctor was in the midst of administering tests, his hands frozen mid-motion as he looked up, startled. "Mr. Skywalker, what-"

"Get out," Anakin cut him off, voice low but urgent, laced with impending danger. "Hide. Don’t come out until we’re gone. You won’t survive otherwise."

The doctor’s face went pale, his breath catching in his throat. "But-"

Anakin’s hand shot out, gripping the man’s shoulder with a force that left no room for argument. He shoved him toward the door. "Now," he commanded, his voice a cold echo of the storm raging within him.

Sidious was on his way here. He could feel it.

Once the doctor was out of the door, Anakin focused his attention onto the still form of his master. Obi-Wan laid flat on his back, a tube stuck in his throat so that air was getting into his lungs.

All it would take was someone disconnecting the machine and Obi-Wan would die.

Swallowing heavily, Anakin shook those dark thoughts out of his head and went over to the table opposite Obi-Wan’s bed and grabbed the prosthetic he and Ahsoka had built earlier. Sidious would come for them both. He had no illusions about that.

Anakin moved to Obi-Wan’s side, his fingers trembling as he carefully attached the prosthetic to the stump of his master's leg, making sure it didn’t snag on the fragile skin. He spoke softly, his voice raw with emotion. “At least this way, you might have a chance to escape…”

His gaze lifted to Obi-Wan’s face, pale and still, a haunting silence filling the space between them.

If you ever wake up.

Blaster fire erupted from outside, followed by the sound of anguished cries. In that instant, Anakin knew their fate had come. With trembling hands, he seized Obi-Wan’s lightsaber and ignited it alongside Qui-Gon’s, the room now bathed in the cold, artificial glow of blue and green.

The door was torn from its hinges, a clone rushing in with a blaster raised, the silence before the storm now shattered. With a roar born of desperation, Anakin lunged, his lightsabers aimed at the man before him - but halted abruptly when recognition struck.

"Cody…?" The name escaped his lips, a mixture of disbelief and frustration. His sabers hovered at the commander’s throat, but the black visor before him betrayed nothing. The Force around him was a tangled mess, as though even it could not fathom what was happening.

The good commander remained still, his blaster unmoving, offering no sign of acknowledgment.

A low, cold voice echoed from the shadows of the hallway, sending a chill through the room. "Remove your lightsabers, Anakin," it intoned, dark and commanding. "We have no need to make a mess, do we?"

As the words reverberated through the air, it felt as though the temperature in the room plummeted, an oppressive weight settling over him. Anakin found himself paralyzed, held in place just by the force that radiated off the voice. His hands, once firm around his lightsabers, were no longer in control. The blades flickered out, their hum silenced, the weapons now nothing more than cold, lifeless metal in his grasp.

Sidious entered the room, his figure cloaked in shadow, the hood of his robe obscuring much of his face. Yet Anakin could still make out the cold, malicious smile that twisted the Sith's lips.

"Did I leave you speechless, my boy?" Sidious' voice was sharp, cutting through the silence like a blade.

Anakin tried to take a slow, deliberate step back, his gaze never wavering from the figure before him. The familiar pressure began to build in his head, just like it had in the courtroom, a relentless force pressing against his mental defenses. His jaw clenched, teeth grinding in an effort to hold it at bay. And then, without warning, something cold and slick trickled from his nose, its path winding down his cheek before falling to the floor with a soft, unsettling splash.

He didn't need to look to know what it was.

The room seemed to close in around him, the air thick with tension. Sidious’ laugh, low and cruel, echoed off the walls. Anakin’s breath came in ragged bursts, his pulse hammering in his ears, but he fought to keep his focus, to keep control.

“You’ve come so far, Anakin,” Sidious purred, taking a step forward, his eyes gleaming beneath the hood. “Yet you still resist the inevitable. Why fight it?”

Anakin’s hands tightened around the hilts of the lightsabers, but his body refused to obey. The pressure in his mind intensified, a vice grip around his skull, and he could feel his resolve slipping like sand through his fingers. He had been prepared for this - prepared for the darkness to consume him, but it still terrified him.

His vision blurred for a moment, and he would have liked to wipe the blood away, but it only seemed to flow faster, more freely. Sidious was watching, savoring his torment.

"You were meant for so much more, Anakin," Sidious continued, voice dripping with false sympathy. "All of this power, all of this potential… yet you squander it. You cling to a dying ideal."

Sidious moved closer, his fingers brushing lightly over the railing of Obi-Wan's bed.

It was the first time Anakin found the strength to speak, his voice barely more than a strained whisper. "Stay away from him," he hissed, the words sharp but fragile, like the last remnants of his will fighting against the inevitable.

But Sidious was unmoved, his gaze cold and calculating as he reached out and seized Obi-Wan’s hand. His fingers traced the crude tattoo carved into Obi-Wan's forearm by Arbor, an intimate gesture that felt like an insult. "It’s always been you, Anakin. You are the one who will kill him in the end," Sidious said, his voice dripping with venom. "No matter how you fight it, no matter how you try to twist fate, it will always be you who drives the dagger into his heart."

He let go of Obi-Wan’s arm with a flick of his wrist, dropping it carelessly back onto the bed, and turned his gaze fully onto Anakin. There was no warmth in his eyes, only a terrible, unyielding certainty. "Did he ever tell you that, despite everything you’ve done, he refused to give you up?" Sidious' hand reached out, his fingers brushing Anakin’s cheek, wiping away the fresh blood that stained his skin. "I might have even set him free if he had rejected you," he murmured, his voice soft, almost affectionate. "But instead, he chose you again."

Sidious’ grip tightened on Anakin's face, his touch turning possessive, almost cruel. "So I had to break him. You forced my hand." His eyes gleamed with cruel satisfaction. "At first, I thought of sending him back to Zygerria, to the slave pits. It worked so well last time, didn't it, dear?"

A low, mocking chuckle escaped Sidious' lips. "But then I realized that he could be far more useful to me. For the Future of our Empire."

"I'll never join you...," Anakin pressed out, still unable to move.

The Sith's grin turned into a snarl and suddenly the machines Obi-Wan was hooked up to started wailing.

The impeding sense of death was enough that Anakin finally managed to free himself from Sidious hold. "No!," he snapped, shoving the Sith away and reactivating the sabers in his hands with a roar.

Sidious staggered back, his eyes flickering with annoyance, but his malevolent grin never wavered. In a swift motion, his hands twitched, and a crackle of dark energy surged from his fingertips, meeting Anakin's attack head-on. The hiss of lightsabers meeting Sith lightning echoed in the hospital room, but Anakin pushed through the searing heat of the dark energy.

With a roar, Anakin spun, his right saber slicing downward in a vicious arc, while his left saber darted forward like a deadly serpent. Sidious leaped backwards with unnatural speed, his own crimson blade igniting with a snap-hiss as he blocked the strike. The force of their weapons colliding sent a shockwave through the air.

"You are nothing but a tool, Skywalker," Sidious taunted, his voice rasping like a thousand insects crawling over skin. "The dark side will consume you."

Anakin snarled, spinning both blades in a blur of motion. He was faster than Sidious anticipated, and with a vicious lunge, he forced the Sith Lord to jump back, blocking both blades with a quick, fluid motion. The room was filled with a symphony of whirling sabers, the clash of plasma, and the crackling of the dark side energy that pulsed from Sidious like a deadly wave.

Anakin was relentless. His saber twirled in a complex, aggressive display as he pressed the attack, striking from all angles. Sidious parried and countered, his movements more calculated but no less deadly. Every swipe of his blade was precise, each strike a calculated attempt to break Anakin’s defense. But Anakin was fast, his movements a blur of power and rage.

But as quickly as this fleeting surge of hope had risen within him, so too did it collapse - crushed by the undeniable weight of his choices.

A familiar click, a sound that echoed in his mind, and he spun on instinct, expecting to see Commander Cody’s face staring back at him, ready to fire. But it wasn’t Cody. It was a shadow, someone wearing his face, and in that moment, Anakin saw it for what it was - a cruel mimicry, a puppet in the hands of the Sith. The blaster’s cold barrel pressed against Obi-Wan’s forehead, and for a moment, time seemed to slow. Anakin’s heart stopped, a sudden terror coursing through him as his eyes locked onto the weapon aimed at his master.

The real Cody would never do this. He would have sacrificed himself without a second thought for the life of his general. Anakin knew it. But as the moment stretched on, he realized there was no time for reflection. The bitter reality of what he was about to lose surged within him.

His hand shot out, instinctively using the Force to freeze Cody in place. Time itself seemed to buckle beneath the weight of his power, but the second he moved- his focus diverted - he felt it.

A sudden, searing heat pressed against the tender skin of his throat. A crimson blade - Sidious’ blade - sliced through the air, poised with deadly precision against his jugular. The burn of the lightsaber's edge made his muscles tense, the smell of singed flesh rising.

"You can't save everyone, Anakin," Sidious whispered in his ear, his voice dripping with sickening satisfaction. His words curled like smoke, wrapping around Anakin's thoughts. "You’ll learn that soon enough."

Anakin’s heart clenched, the weight of the Sith's words sinking deep. He could feel Sidious’ cold presence like a dagger against his mind, his twisted grip tightening with each passing second.

"Kenobi will live," Sidious continued, his tone light, as if making a casual proposition, "if you join me now."

He knew there was no choice left. To defy was to lose everything. "Okay... I... I surrender." The words burned on his tongue, like ash, tasting of betrayal and defeat.

"Kneel."

The crimson blade remained hot and unwavering against his throat as he complied, his hands trembling as he placed the sabers on the ground before him.

Sidious moved with a predatory grace, stepping around him. With a flick of his hand, the sabers lifted from the floor, vanishing into his cloak. "You made the right choice, my apprentice."

Anakin’s breath came in shallow, ragged gasps. His mind, unwilling to fully accept the reality of his decision, spun in denial.

"Prepare Kenobi," Sidious commanded, and Anakin’s head jerked up, his eyes wide with horror.

"You said you’d let him-" His voice faltered, but the words were cut short by the burning press of the blade against his neck. A small, pained gasp escaped him.

"He'll live," Sidious said, his voice chillingly calm. "But whether that lasts... depends entirely on your behavior."

Chapter Text

He had no idea where they had taken Obi-Wan after the shuttle ascended toward the Star Destroyer. Sidious had placed a cold, heavy hand on his shoulder as a squad of clones wheeled his master's lifeless form away on a stretcher, a silent gesture that held him at bay. The weight of the moment pressed on him, and a shiver crawled down his spine.

He’ll live. But whether that lasts... depends entirely on your behavior.

The Sith's voice, smooth and venomous, echoed in his mind.

The only thing that brought him any semblance of peace in that moment was the knowledge that Ahsoka and his parents were escaping, their small ship quietly slipping past the Star Destroyer and into the atmosphere. Yet, he knew the truth - Sidious had orchestrated it all. The Sith had what he wanted, and nothing would ever be the same again.

"Come, my boy," Sidious said, his tone disturbingly paternal as he guided him through the hangar, "You look as if you haven't eaten in days."

"I-" He paused, his eyes still locked on the door through which the clones had disappeared with Obi-Wan. "I'm not hungry."

Sidious' laugh was chilling, a sound devoid of warmth, as he nudged him forward into the turbolift. "Nonsense."

The turbolift doors slid shut with a soft hiss, enclosing them in a hollow silence. Sidious stood beside him, the air thick with the weight of his presence. The dim light of the control panel flickered, casting ghostly shadows in the chamber as they descended. Each moment felt heavier, as if the very air had thickened in the wake of Obi-Wan’s absence.

He couldn’t get the image of his master out of his mind - motionless, unconscious, but still alive. A wave of helplessness washed over him again. It had all happened so fast, too fast.

"He's not dead," he muttered under his breath, his eyes darting to the floor, avoiding Sidious’s piercing gaze.

Sidious’s voice, dark and steady, cut through the silence. "No, my apprentice," he replied softly, almost with a tinge of mockery, "but whether he ever wakes again... that is for you to decide."

His words struck like a whip, and the young man stiffened. He felt the weight of the Sith Lord’s gaze, his every step calculated to break his resolve.

Sidious placed a hand on his shoulder again, firm and cold. "Come now, you must not dwell on such things," he said, his tone deceptively calm. "You have far greater matters to consider. The future. Your future."

The lift shuddered slightly as they descended deeper into the heart of the Star Destroyer. He could feel the tremor in the walls, the cold metal surrounding him, but it was Sidious’s words that resonated like a painful echo.

He had known this moment was inevitable. The Sith would never allow the Jedi to remain hidden for long. Not when there were tools to be used, lives to be manipulated, destinies to be shaped.

Sidious’s voice was almost fatherly as he spoke again, guiding him forward with subtle pressure. "You’ve been at war for far too long, my boy. You have been a servant to a cause that only ever used you as a shield. But here... here, you will be free."

"I didn't ask for this," he whispered, his words barely escaping his throat. "None of it."

Sidious chuckled darkly, the sound dripping with derision. "Ah, but you have already chosen. This path is not one of your making, true, but you will walk it all the same. The galaxy does not care for your doubts or your questions. It only cares for power."

The turbolift slowed, the end of their descent near. The doors hissed open, and Sidious gestured forward, his movements smooth and deliberate. "Come now," he said, guiding him out into the cold, sterile corridor of the Star Destroyer, "there is much to discuss. And you need your strength, after all. We cannot afford any more weakness."

As they walked, his eyes were drawn once more to the shadows, wondering where Obi-Wan was - if he was even still breathing, locked away in some distant medical bay.

Hesitantly, he reached out, his senses stretching toward Obi-Wan’s familiar Force signature. But before he could trace it, something heavy and violent struck the shields of his mind, like a battering ram crashing against a fragile wall.

Anakin staggered, his feet faltering as he came to a sudden, breathless stop. A sharp pain exploded inside his skull, and he instinctively pressed his hand to his temple, trying to quell the relentless ache that threatened to split his mind in two.

When he lifted his eyes, he was met with Sidious’s burning gaze, his presence suffocating, oppressive.

“I recommend you refrain from that,” Sidious seethed, his voice low and dangerous. “Remember, it’s not you who will suffer, but Kenobi.”

Anakin kept himself from glaring back at the monster in front of him and nodded shortly.

A devious grin stretched onto the Sith’s face. „Good. You learn fast.“

They finally arrived at their destination: a door swishing open at the end of the hallway, revealing a lavishly set table, with a chair at each end. 

"Sit down." 

Anakin, never one to easily follow orders, found himself seated without resistance, his senses sharp as the Sith circled around the table. 

Sidious, in no hurry, took his time before sitting across from him, pouring himself a glass of wine once he had settled.

"See, Anakin, all of this could have been avoided from the very beginning. But you were never one to listen. You charge ahead, believing that your strength, your fate as the Chosen One, would be enough to protect you. But it’s not your strength that fails you - it’s your mind, always clouded, always rushing forward without thinking."

Anakin's fingers curled into a fist. "What do you want from me?"

"For now, I want you to eat." Sidious' voice was cold and calculated. A droid, which Anakin hadn't noticed before, rolled forward, its metallic arms swiftly preparing a plate. "Once we reach our destination, time will no longer be on our side."

Anakin stared at Sidious, the weight of his words pressing down on him. "Where are we going?" His voice was edged with suspicion, though his curiosity burned brighter.

Sidious leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping in front of him as he regarded Anakin with a predatory calm. "Ah, the destination. We are heading to a place where our work will truly begin, where the future will be forged. Mustafar."

Anakin’s brow furrowed at the mention of the volcanic world. "Mustafar?" he repeated, his tone uncertain.

Sidious smiled thinly. "Yes. A fitting place for the next phase of our plan. It is there we will bring forth an army, one unlike any the galaxy has ever known. An army of Force-sensitive soldiers, not merely clones bred for war, but beings with the potential to wield the Force as you do."

Anakin’s pulse quickened. His mind struggled to process what Sidious was saying, but the implications began to settle in. "Force-sensitive clones?" he murmured, his voice distant. "How is that even possible?"

Sidious’ grin deepened, his eyes gleaming with dark delight. "With the right resources, anything is possible. The cloning technology is well-established, but we have... enhanced it. The Kaminoans failed to understand the unique connection between the midichlorians and their host. But, with a very special contribution from a previous... experiment, we were finally able to crack the code.”

Anakin's thoughts flashed to the events he’d been told about - of Obi-Wan's captivity, the brutal experiments conducted by the woman who had nearly killed him. He had heard the details: how Arbor had allowed Obi-Wan to escape with the help of Padmé and Dex, how Sidious had almost ended the scientist‘s life for her failure. The mention of her now made something in his gut twist.

"Arbor," Anakin said flatly, "You’re talking about her."

Sidious didn't flinch. "Yes, Arbor. Her... methods were unorthodox, but she served a purpose. She is the reason we have made such progress in the cloning project."

Anakin’s stomach turned. He remembered what he had been told - the cruelty, the inhumanity. How Arbor had pumped Obi-Wan's blood almost to the point of death, trying to extract whatever they could from his body. She had almost killed him before Dex and Padmé managed to intervene. Slowly suffocating on a tube stuck in his throat.

"You used his blood?" Anakin asked, barely able to keep the disgust out of his voice.

Sidious’ eyes darkened, but he held Anakin's gaze with a cruel calm. "Yes. Kenobi‘s blood is... valuable. His connection to the Force, his midichlorians, makes him the perfect template for a first attempt. With it, we can create clones who aren’t just soldiers, but powerful Force-wielders -clones who will obey without question and fight with unmatched skill."

Anakin’s fists slipped under the table, his thoughts swirling in turmoil. "So that’s why she tortured him... That’s why you tortured him." His voice was raw with the memory of Obi-Wan’s suffering, the image of his friend trapped in that lab, unable to escape the agony.

He hadn’t been there himself, had only been told fragments of what must have transpired by Ahsoka.

And he was sure that she didn’t know everything.

Obi-Wan himself had refrained from talking about it.

Sidious leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with dark satisfaction. "Indeed. But it was necessary. The path to power is never clean, Anakin. You know that better than anyone. Arbor’s methods may have been extreme, but they have brought us closer to our goal. The army we will create will be unmatched."

He wanted to be sick. „You said he was the perfect template for a first attempt…“

The Sith savored a bite of his meal, dragging it out for a moment before finally responding to Anakin’s question. "Exactly. Until now the experiments left much to be desired," he said, casually picking a piece of meat from between his teeth. "Most of the clones didn’t even survive the first few hours. Others were... simply defective."

He paused, his eyes darkening as he continued. "By the time we optimized the conditions, Kenobi’s blood had already aged. The midichlorians were... deteriorating. Some of the clones that did survive lost the little amount of force-sensitivity they were created with."

Sidious took a slow sip of his wine, the red liquid swirling in the glass as he looked at Anakin with a calculating gaze. "Of course, now that Kenobi is... available again, we could extract fresh blood. But let's be honest," he leaned forward slightly, a cold edge creeping into his voice as he locked eyes with Anakin, "You have much more potential. Even if some midichlorians are lost in the process, we would still create an army of the most powerful Force wielders the galaxy has ever seen."

Chapter Text

Satine had believed that she was done experiencing fear and terror. That death would finally bring her the peace she had fought so long for.

But now she held Obi-Wan desperately, him writhing and screaming in agony as more and more wounds opened on his body only to close again shortly afterwards, leaving ugly scars in their wake.

Bile rose up her throat as she clutched his head, hoping to somehow soothe him through whatever was happening, even if she knew it was useless. Her stomach flipping, she watched as his limbs twisted and snapped, deep cuts appearing on his body, only to be mended as if by magic. Blood caked her fingers as the red liquid squeezed through Obi-Wan's lips, his screams now little more than choking.

His bones somehow snapped back into place, bruises forming and disappearing as all this was just a terrible nightmare. Only his left leg didn’t return to its unharmed state. The limb kept swelling, festering, until it was past recognition and Satine knew exactly what was going to happen.

She squeezed her eyes shut, holding Obi-Wan tighter.

It couldn’t have been more than minutes, but the agony stretched on, each second dragging like an eternity. Slowly, Satine opened her eyes again, her vision first settling on the mangled stump where Obi-Wan's left leg had once been. Her heart clenched painfully, unwilling to look, yet unable to turn away. Her gaze moved upward, lingering on the scars - each one a testament to a battle fought, a pain endured. She followed their cruel path until her eyes reached his face, where she hesitated, as though the sight of him could break her entirely.

With trembling fingers, she reached out, her thumb brushing over the scar that had taken his sight. It felt like touching a wound deeper than skin - something unspoken, a loss that neither of them could escape.

Obi-Wan hadn’t fainted. Somehow, he hadn’t. And yet, he lay in her arms, breath ragged and uneven, his body shaking with the weight of everything he had endured.

Her voice caught in her throat, thick with sorrow, the words barely forming.  "...What happened to you, dear?"

Obi-Wan’s lips parted, but no sound came. His throat worked as if searching for the strength to speak, but the pain - physical and otherwise - clamped down, cruel and unrelenting. Still, at the sound of her voice - soft, breaking, filled with so much love and grief - he turned his head slightly toward her, like a man drawn toward warmth in the dead of winter.

For a long moment, there was only the sound of their breath.

Then finally, his voice  same.

“They… took everything.”

Satine closed her eyes again, the weight of those three words falling like stones in her chest. She could feel it now, more than see it - the hollow ache beneath his words, the void where something once sacred had lived. Not just his leg, not just his sight - but pieces of himself. Honor, hope… maybe even faith.

“Who?” she asked, her hand never leaving his face.

He didn’t answer right away. She could see the muscles in his jaw tense. He was still fighting - not enemies, but memories. Ghosts. Finally, he exhaled shakily.

“The Sith. Sidious. He… he twisted Anakin.”

“I tried, Satine,” Obi-Wan whispered. “I tried to keep the peace… but there was no peace left to keep.”

She pressed her forehead to his, tears spilling silently down her cheeks.

“It’s okay…,” she said softly. “I’ve got you.”

Obi-Wan’s hand found hers - weak, trembling - but it gripped hers all the same. And though his eyes would never see again, they turned toward her, like he could feel her light cutting through the dark.

“It was Anakin,” he breathed. “He… he took my eyes.”

Beside her, Qui-Gon drew a sharp, ragged breath. His expression faltered - caught somewhere between disbelief and something alike… horror. She didn’t turn to him. She couldn’t. Her arms were wrapped around the man who had once been a pillar, now crumbling in the aftermath of everything they’d failed to prevent.

It wasn’t hatred she felt toward Master Jinn - but it was close. A quiet, enduring bitterness that had taken root years ago. She had watched him overlook Obi-Wan again and again, blind to the quiet loyalty in front of him. Blind to how hard Obi-Wan tried to be enough.

Obi-Wan had never spoken of it, not directly, but she had seen it in his eyes. The unspoken hope that one day, his Master might offer something real. A word of pride. A trace of warmth. Anything he could carry through the cold.

Instead, there had only been Try harder. Do better.

And so he did.

He tried. He endured. He took on Anakin when he was still a boy himself - not because he was ready, but because no one else would. Because it was expected. And now-

Now, here he was. Bleeding from wounds that ran deeper than flesh. Hollowed out by choices never truly his own.

Was this what devotion earned? Was this the price of always doing what was right?

His voice came at last, hoarse and barely above a whisper. Not for her, not for Qui-Gon - just the words of a man unraveling.

“This rage…” Obi-Wan said, eyes unseeing, “I don’t know what I did to ignite this inferno in him.”

But the truth was colder than that.

He hadn’t lit the fire.

He had simply carried it until it burned through everything he had left.

“Tell us,” Qui-Gon said at last, his voice low, almost reverent, as he sank to his knees beside the broken man who had once called him Master. “Tell us everything.”

There was silence at first - a hesitation that stretched thin between heartbeats. Obi-Wan’s lips parted, then closed again, as if the words themselves carried razors. But then, slowly, he began to speak.

And the truth poured out like ash.

He spoke of Ahsoka. The accusation. The confrontation with Anakin that unraveled everything between them. He spoke of the trial - how his voice had meant nothing, how his pleas were drowned beneath the weight of silence and suspicion. He told them how Anakin had turned his back, how the bond they had forged through war and blood strained under the pressure, becoming close to shattering.

He spoke of the verdict. The prison. Sidious.

How the Sith had slithered into his cell like a shadow, offering power in exchange for betrayal. How Obi-Wan had refused - and been handed over to Arbor’s lab in return. A place without light, without time. A place built for breaking people.

There, beneath endless hours of pain, he had begun to forget what hope felt like.

And then the world shattered.

He told them how the clones - once comrades, once brothers - turned their weapons on the Jedi. How the Temple, their sanctuary, became a grave. How they became prey in a galaxy that had once called them protectors.

His voice faltered. But he pressed on.

He told them of Dex and Padmé, who risked everything to pull him from the nightmare that was Arbor’s lab. He spoke of Ahsoka, bloodied but unbowed, surviving the purge that consumed Coruscant. Of Anakin - finally seeing through the darkness that had always clung to him. Realizing, too late, how Sidious had poisoned his mind from the start.

Anakin had tried to make amends. Tried to undo what he had broken.

“Tried to remove the Force suppression collar,” Obi-Wan ended, his voice unraveling into something almost childlike in its fragility. “That’s the last thing I remember.”

Then nothing.

The silence was thick - dense, suffocating. Only the low hum of the portal remained, pulsing with raw, unstable energy. Obi-Wan’s life force still writhed within it like a tether on the brink of snapping.

Satine couldn’t move. Could barely breathe. And in that moment, all she could hear was the sound of her own heartbeat - loud, hollow, desperate.

“You should rest,” Qui-Gon said at last, his voice low, as if speaking too loudly would shatter what little remained. He placed a steadying hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder. “Do you think you can stand?”

Obi-Wan’s lips pressed into a thin, bloodless line. The silence stretched before he finally shook his head, slow and small, like even that admission cost him more than he could afford. “…No.“

Qui-Gon only nodded. Quiet understanding passed between them. No judgment. No insistence. Only care.

With slow, deliberate movement, the old Jedi eased an arm beneath Obi-Wan’s shoulders, the other beneath his remaining knee, lifting him from Satine’s arms with the kind of strength born not of the body, but of devotion. Obi-Wan sagged into him, his head resting against Qui-Gon’s chest, breath faint against worn robes.

Satine stood frozen, her hands still outstretched toward where he had been. The sight stirred something old and painful inside her - a memory buried beneath years of dust and grief. A gunshot. Blood. A hidden road. Obi-Wan’s weight slung over Qui-Gon’s shoulder as they fled across endless plains. She had felt helpless then, too.

The memory broke her paralysis. She surged forward, moving quickly ahead of them, opening the doors to the quiet chamber within. Qui-Gon carried Obi-Wan through like something sacred. Satine pulled back the covers, fingers trembling as she tried to smooth the sheets.

Gently, Qui-Gon laid him down.

Obi-Wan didn’t speak. His body trembled - violently, like the pain was echoing through his bones. Satine was already pulling the blankets up, tucking them close. The weight of them was no comfort, but at least it was something.

She sat on the edge of the bed, reaching for his hand. Cold. Too cold.

She held it tightly, grounding them both in what little warmth was left.

That’s when she saw it.

A thick, jagged scar carved across his forearm - angry and raw, still painted in uneven black ink. The number etched crudely across ruined flesh:

13.

Her breath caught.

She didn’t know what it meant. But it rang in her chest like a bell tolling from somewhere far away - an omen of the dark, a mark from a place no soul should ever walk.

Satine sat unmoving beside the bed, Obi-Wan’s hand resting lightly in hers. His breathing was shallow but steady now, the worst of the tremors passed. She didn’t speak. Neither did he. Slowly Obi-Wans eyes slipped close, dragging him into a restless slumber.

Qui-Gon moved closer, his footsteps slow, heavy with years. He stood at the foot of the bed, hands folded in front of him, gaze drawn to the motionless form between them.

“He was always good at hiding pain,” he said after a moment.

Satine’s voice turned brittle. “He shouldn’t have had to.”

Qui-Gon was silent. There was no defense. Only truth between them now.

“I trained him to be strong,” he said eventually, eyes fixed somewhere far away. “To be obedient. Controlled. Graceful in discipline. But I never taught him how to fall. How to ask for help. How to carry failure without letting it define him.”

Satine looked at him now, really looked at him. “And you think that was a mistake.”

“I know it was.”

She nodded slowly. “We both left him to carry too much.”

Qui-Gon didn’t argue. He merely lowered himself into the chair on the opposite side of the bed, his movements slow, as though the weight of memory had aged him.

“I believed strength meant standing tall through the storm,” he said. “But Obi-Wan - he stood through too many. For too long. And when he finally broke, he didn’t know how to fall gently.”

Satine brushed her thumb across Obi-Wan’s hand, watching the faint flicker of his pulse beneath the skin. “Do you think he’ll come back from this?”

“I think,” Qui-Gon said carefully, “he will try. Because that’s who he is. But I also think… something in him has changed forever. Some part of him died back there.”

She closed her eyes. “Then I hope whatever's left can still feel love.”

A long silence followed, soft and sacred.

When Satine finally opened her eyes, Qui-Gon was still sitting there, watching over Obi-Wan with quiet reverence.

“Will you stay?” she asked.

He looked at her, and in his expression was something unspoken – an apology, a promise.

“Yes,” he said. “I’m here now.”

Satine swallowed heavily, settling her gaze on Obi-Wans scar-lined features. "Do you think he can still make it back?"

Qui-Gon was quiet for a long moment, gaze steady on his former Padawan. Then he spoke, low and sure.

“Not alone,” he said. “He’ll need someone waiting for him on the other side - to show him the way back. And someone here… to steady his back until he does.”

Satine’s hand tightened gently around Obi-Wan’s. “Then we’ll do that.”

Chapter Text

The void of space drained what little composure Ahsoka had clung to during the escape, stripping it away like breath in a vacuum. She collapsed into the pilot’s chair, trembling as she forced each breath past the knot in her chest.

The Empire hadn't even bothered to pursue them. That was the cruelest part. Instead, she had watched - helpless - as a smaller vessel had broken away from the fray, gliding unopposed toward the hospital. Minutes later, it was gone. Along with its precious cargo.

Anakin. Obi-Wan.

Both of them, now in the hands of the Sith.

Her stomach churned with guilt and dread, a hollow ache settling deep in her gut. In the distance, the Star Destroyer began its slow ascent out of Stewjon’s atmosphere, like a predator withdrawing from a fresh kill - its hunger momentarily sated, the destruction left in its wake.

Ahsoka sat frozen, fingers clenched around the flight controls, her mind reeling in the silence.

The ship jumped to hyperspace.

They were gone. Vanished. Without a trace.

Ahsoka blinked, once, twice - forcing the fog from her mind. She couldn’t afford to sit in the wreckage of her thoughts, not now. Not while there was still a chance.

She leaned forward, fingers darting across the console with urgency, scanning the area for anything - ion trails, heat signatures, hyperspace echoes. Most of the data was cluttered, distorted by the chaos of the escape. But then she saw it: a flicker. A gravimetric ripple, faint, but traceable.

A jump signature.

She locked onto it, isolating the signal. The masking was good - deliberate - but rushed. Whoever had plotted the jump didn’t expect anyone to be close enough to catch the vector as it formed.

The navicomputer crunched the data, slowly piecing together a trajectory. Her eyes narrowed as the readout formed.

Mustafar.

Ahsoka’s breath caught.

She’d heard the name in passing - just a planet. Remote, almost entirely uninhabitable. Seas of lava, violent eruptions, toxic air. Not a place anyone lived unless they had no other choice. Or something to hide.

Her stomach twisted, but she forced it down. There was no time for hesitation. They had taken Anakin. Taken Obi-Wan.

Why Mustafar?

She didn’t know. But she would find out.