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He was fourteen the first time it happened. The city grime clung to his robes, the fabric moulding to his skin in that sickening, uncomfortable kind of way but there was no way around it. It was the only clothing he had with him. The only clothing Qui-Gon had left him with when he abandoned him, the only remains he had of the order he thought he had understood. Obi-Wan wasn't sure of anything then, staring up at the smoke filled skies hoping, praying, that the Force would guide him.
The ash, from the latest series of attacks smeared across his face, mixed with blood, and Obi-Wan couldn't help but wonder what was the point in it all. He had chosen to stay in Melida/Daan, to help the Young from inheriting their parents' war, but the longer he stayed the more he realised that it was already too late. The city continued to carry on around him as if their world had not just been attacked, as if their homes had not just been blown to pieces behind them. Only twenty minutes ago a child, only a few years younger than him, had died in Obi-Wan's arms and yet the city had not stopped to grieve. Obi-Wan wasn't naive. He knew conflict already from his many missions as a padawan but this was something new entirely. There was no empathy here.
He had been standing there for what seemed like hours before he felt the drag of someone leading him away, some old Melidan whose face carried a hundred battles. The man smiled sadly and Obi-Wan felt sick to his stomach, he inherited this war too .
"Here," the man croaked. Forcing a flask into Obi-Wan's hand. "It helps."
"But... I'm not old enough."
"You're older than most."
Obi-Wan stared blankly at the flask as the old man gestured to the wreck around them. He remembered the children in the Young, how they reminded him of his creche mates, the girl in his arms; they weren't nearly old enough for everything going on. But they were old enough to die , a voice cried out inside his head. Obi-Wan took the flask and held it to his lips, the liquid burning his throat as it went down. He'd never felt so cold.
-
Obi-Wan watched the bespin fizz in his glass swirl around, the bubbles rising to the surface in a way that made his skin crawl. It was over. It was finally over. Yet why did he feel so empty?
Him and Qui-Gon had barely rested the last couple of months, chasing Xanatos from planet to planet, entangled in his sick games until the bitter end dangled on the edge of the acid pools. Obi-Wan still got a little uneasy going underground, remembering the mines from their first dealings together. The sulphur of Telos still hung in his nostrils and Obi-Wan wished he knew how to forget. Yet each time the smell hit him he remembered Xanatos’ taunt in his ears, he had been right after all, no matter how much Master Qui-Gon had tried to persuade him otherwise. Chun had died by his hand and it had felt good.
Thankfully Master Qui-Gon had pulled him back just in time and together they managed to overpower Xanatos. They had been so close, Andra had been right there ready to take Xanatos to Thani, they were going to stop his tirade and then everything had fallen apart.
“Live with that. And live with this.”
When he closed his eyes Obi-Wan could still see the sickening grin on Xanatos’ face as he made his choice, leaping backwards into the acid pools below. Unable to tear his eyes away he had watched as the acid fizzled and bubbled below, eating away at the flesh at sickening speed. There was nothing they could have done. Nothing Master Qui-Gon could have done. Yet that emptiness niggled at the back of his mind; what if Xanatos hadn’t managed to distract him? Would he still be alive?
“I am your biggest failure.”
There’s still time, his mind echoed.
There was a part of him that understood the struggle to live up to Master Qui-Gon’s ideals, to follow in Master Feemor’s footsteps. To feel a failure in the eyes of the legacy before him. As the bubbles poured down Obi-Wan’s throat he couldn’t help but wonder if Xanatos’ had burnt in those moments whilst the acid consumed him. Had it finally silenced the turmoil that had suffocated him for all those years? And as Obi-Wan chased his own answers at the bottom of his glass he couldn’t help but envy him.
-
It was almost easy after that, to deal with that hollow feeling clawing at his insides. Whenever he and Qui-Gon had completed a particularly tough mission, and sleep was a foreign concept, Obi-Wan would sneak away to stare at the Coruscant skies and drink until the building warmth in his chest melted into the sunrise. Sometimes the colours of the city would dance around him, the lights bouncing off of the glass of his bottle. He just wanted it all to stop. All the colours, the memories seared into his brain, the silence; god how he wished the silence would stop. It wasn’t like he could talk to Qui-Gon about it. Qui-Gon was ever growing distant, every mission where they didn’t connect, every call where Obi-Wan failed to do what Qui-Gon expected. If it kept happening Obi-Wan feared he would be sent right to the Agri Corps. Realistically he knew that he’d probably be picked up by another master, another Jedi he would just disappoint. He had to tell himself that, had to believe the Force had a plan for him, otherwise he had destroyed it all for nothing.
The past year whenever he felt like this, the doubt creeping in, she had always been there. At his side, humming to herself in the next room, soft in his arms. Obi-Wan missed her more than he could say. He knew, realistically, that it was for the best. That the Code he had sworn to live by couldn’t be thrown away so easily. His attachment to Satine had grown so fast and it feared him. He had heard the stories of what attachments could do to a Jedi, had seen how people had broken down due to their relationships, to the loss, and Obi-Wan had ran. He could still remember fighting off the mites on Draboon or the mining operation on Gromas, that night they laid beneath the stars. He missed her, Force how he missed her. Her laughter, her strength, the way she would tease him when they were alone; the last year had been filled with nothing but her and the loss was deafening.
Now he was back at the temple and alone for the first time in months. The moment they returned Qui-Gon had run off to his prophecies and his other various studies, and Obi-Wan had been left standing there wishing he had a task to keep him busy. He had paced his room a few times, completed laps around the gardens and visited his friends, and soon the darkness had crept in again. The cold whipping around his robes no matter where he turned. He had waited for as long as he could, tried to stick it out as if he could ignore the itching beneath his skin. Like his insides were clawing at him, begging for the one thing that seemed to lull it. It didn’t take him long to find his old hiding spots, half abandoned bottles hidden in temple corners and behind old statues. Obi-Wan fell away into the dark, running to the one place he knew no one would find him, knowing no one would care to find him gone.
The sky was burning orange, the world almost awake again, and he knew everything would go back to how it was before. As if he hadn’t just spent the last year on the run. Back to lessons and mediation circles, back to hours spent in the archives going over prophecies for Master Qui-Gon. He’d wake up and go through his routine, pretending he didn’t spend a week near death, in some damp ridden cavern, after he took a blaster to the back or that sometimes he could still feel the ghost of her hands upon his chest when he closed his eyes. Talk to his friends as if he didn’t see a whole village killed just for hiding him. The Temple was just the same as it had always been and it did nothing but make the emptiness inside of him grow. The last dregs of his adrees glistened in the morning light and Obi-Wan resigned himself to finish the bottle before anyone could wake to see him. Not that anyone, not even Qui-Gon, would mind as long as he proved himself worth the time. Obi-Wan tried to quell the bile rising as he drank, unsure if it was the alcohol that made him feel that way or if it was himself.
-
He’d failed him. He’d failed Qui-Gon and now he was going to leave him behind again. After all the second chances, all the failures and the lessons, Qui-Gon had finally had enough of him. Of course he’d join the Council, why wouldn’t he? Especially if it meant he got to alleviate himself of the burden that was having Obi-Wan Kenobi as his Padawan. He’d leap at the chance. Any Master would. Their problems had been growing for years and recently those problems had only seemed to accel at an alarming rate. No matter how many times Obi-Wan dedicated himself to the rules, clinging to the order in hope it could guide him, Qui-Gon managed to throw the rules out all together. Now Qui-Gon had a chance to join the Council, to get rid of his obligation as Master and rid himself of the hassle of having him as a Padawan. The worst part, Obi-Wan thought, was that Qui-Gon didn’t even have the heart to tell him himself, he had to hear it from The Chancellor. Even that had been an accident. Nobody trusted him and how could they? He ruined everything.
He had nearly gotten them killed on Teth, Obi-Wan knew that. Qui-Gon had tried to tell him but as per usual he had misinterpreted the message and landed them right in danger. Right in the den of a goddamn Hutt to add to the embarrassment. No other padawan he knew seemed to have so much issue with their Master. Perhaps it was for the best that Qui-Gon was going to throw him aside and join the Council. Sure, Qui-Gon had told Obi-Wan he wasn’t sure if he was actually going to accept the offer but he’d be a fool not to. They’d go to Pijal, have one last fumbled mission where Obi-Wan managed to mess up, come back and then that would be it. Pijal was his last chance to show Qui-Gon that he was still worthy of having a Master, even if it wasn’t going to be him.
When they returned to the Temple Obi-Wan hadn’t hung around long, making excuses he needed to prepare for their journey to Pijal first thing. It was a blatant lie, one that no one argued with, and it gave Obi-Wan an excuse to hide himself away in his room with a whole bottle of jawa juice. He stared around his room, barely touched since their return from Teth, and loathed how empty it truly was. There were mementoes, sure, trinkets he had collected over the years where he could, but nothing that truly felt like his. It was hard to call the Temple home sometimes when he spent most of it in the stars but the fear of losing it sat uneasy in the pit of his stomach. Which is why, on the way back to his room, Obi-Wan had had the good sense to go to the go to the archive to read some of the files about Pijal and of the Jedi already stationed there, Rael Averross. Obi-Wan liked to go into things prepared, to know what he was facing. Though part of him wished this time he never had.
The files painted a vivid picture of Rael Averross, Jedi Master, who killed his padawan after she had been struck by a slicer dart. This was the man they were going to help. It had been hard not to draw comparisons to Nim Pianna in that moment, the padawan who tried so hard and was put down when she failed her master. Obi-Wan kept replaying the scene in his head as he continued to down the jawa juice. It hardly burnt his throat anymore but it did little to stop his mind from running away from him. He thought of Rael Averross and he thought of Qui-Gon. He thought of Nim Pianna and how scared she must have felt when the bots took control of her body. How hard she must have fought to try and regain the tiniest bit of control when everything seemed to fall around her. Obi-Wan wondered what it felt like to look into your Master’s eyes as he pushed his saber into your flesh. A sick, almost desperate, part of himself wondered if Qui-Gon would do that to him. He remembered Xanatos. It made his stomach turn. The Force was toying with his thoughts and Obi-Wan prayed he knew what to do. He was seventeen and the universe was so kriffing suffocating. How was he meant to find balance in something so vast? His Master was leaving him, his path seemed so murky and their least mission was to help a Jedi who had killed his padawan when she became too much trouble. Pianna had let her Master down and Rael Averross had killed her in turn and now no one even knew her name. Would anybody ever know his name? Or would he be just another forgotten archive in a sea of paperwork?
In the morning they would leave for Pijal and Obi-Wan prayed it would give him the answer he longed for. Until then he knew drinking for the rest of the night would get him nowhere, he was too unsettled to continue anyway. Inside his emotions were swirling like a storm, loud and erratic, the alcohol in his system making it impossible for him to steady himself. Hiding the bottle, half drunk for another day, Obi-Wan moved to his meditation mat to begin the purge. Though his head spun Obi-Wan began to draw in on himself, pushing aside the negative emotions that threatened to overflow inside. He was one with the Force, the Force was with him. It ebbed and flowed through him, battling with swirling inside his stomach until a peace began to wash over him; he would show Qui-Gon he was worthy, he would show the Order. Obi-Wan continued to meditate for a few hours longer, ignoring the slight tremor in his hand.
-
In the back room Anakin slept, the excitement from the last few days no doubt finally catching up to him. Meanwhile, whilst dreams of flights and new worlds filled Anakin’s sleep, Obi-Wan stared out into the emptiness of the Naboo night sky, the silence threatening to squash him.
Master Qui-Gon was dead.
Obi-Wan’s hands shook, the lingering memory of Qui-Gon’s final breaths cooling his skin. They had been joking with one another only a few days before, before they had even stepped foot on Tatooine. Tomorrow the Council would arrive, conversations were to be had, a funeral to be held, and now he had a boy whose future rested on his shoulders.
“Promise me you will train the boy.”
He agreed. Of course he agreed. How could he have refused Qui-Gon then? The final plea laboured and rushed, too fast and too soon. Now the future of this tiny child was entirely in his hands, the future of the galaxy in his hands. He thought about the younglings back at the temple, their small hands working through the forms that had long become muscle memory to him. Anakin had already been through so much in his life before he even left the sands of Tatooine and now he was thrust into something much bigger than him and Obi-Wan had no idea where to even begin to guide him through it all - going through simple forms just felt so small in the grandness of it all. Did Anakin even know how to read?
How could Qui-Gon be so careless? How dare he promise this young boy the universe and leave him. They were never meant to get involved, they should have just left. Now Anakin’s world had been upturned and he was left with a sad excuse of a padawan as his protector. Part of him couldn’t help but hate Qui-Gon in that moment and it sickened him to his core. Memories of their time together soured with the future that laid before him, his stomach churning, as Obi-Wan reached for the flask in his robes; he couldn’t afford to allow his hate to linger beyond dawn.
He washed the bile down and waited for the sun to rise.
-
Obi-Wan returned back to his room, the bottle of adrees hidden back into its usual place. A habit he hadn’t quite shaken even as an adult - it separated the two in a way that comforted him. He supposed he could just drink in his room now he was old enough, the other masters certainly did in theirs when the mood took them. It just felt different for him. He did sometimes but there was something comforting watching the traffic fly overhead, the noise drowning out the screams in his head as the liquor settled in his stomach. There was safety in the Coruscant night sky, with nothing but the distant stars to watch him.
Stumbling in through the door he expected the room to be still with Anakin sleeping in the adjoining room, preferring to stay near him than with the other padawans. Anakin hadn’t managed to quite fit in with the other padawan since he came to Coruscant but tinkering in his room did seem to calm him and Obi-wan couldn’t deny him a little piece of home even if he tried. Instead of a still room Obi-Wan walked in to the lights on full, the sounds of small sobs filling the chamber and fear filled his lungs.
There on the bed lay Anakin, curled up and clutching at Obi-Wan’s covers, his face pressed into the bed. Rushing over Obi-Wan tried to send out a reassuring presence out with the Force, his hands gently resting on Anakin’s back. This wasn’t the first time Anakin had sought him out in the night. Too many times since they officially moved into the Temple Obi-Wan would wake to find Anakin asleep on the floor next to his bed, tiny hands clutching at the edge of covers, afraid that Obi-Wan would vanish too. Like Qui-Gon. Like his mother.
“It’s okay, Anakin, I’m here.”
The tiny body beneath his hand shook with the sobs, Anakin was struggling to try and regulate his breathing now hearing the familiar timbre of Obi-Wan echo throughout the room. He shot up, pressing himself into Obi-Wan instead.
“Yo-you were gone.” Anakin sniffled. “I thought yo-”
The thoughts died on his tongue, clearly afraid to finish his sentence and somehow make it come true. Guilt filled his lungs as Obi-Wan took a sharp inhale in, Anakin was clearly suffering more with his separation than originally thought. The Council had feared this, everyone had feared this, but he tried to ignore it each time Anakin excelled in his classes. His padawan had been hurting and he had done nothing to prevent it.
“I’m sorry, Anakin, I was in the archives,” he lied. “Rest now, we’ll talk in the morning.”
Anakin nodded and laid down on Obi-Wan’s bed, his hand moving to grasp part of Obi-Wan’s robe in his hand. Obi-Wan continued to watch Anakin, sending soft reassurances through the Force as he watched Anakin slowly fall into an even sleep. Now sat in the dark, he watched Anakin breath move in and out as if it would stop the moment he turned away. In the morning he would speak to healers, see what counselling Anakin could access to help ease the worries of separation, speak to the boy himself to see what they could do together; he couldn’t allow this fear to continue. Tomorrow he would move the adrees.
-
Anakin wanted to leave. Had surrendered his lightsaber to Obi-Wan and wanted to leave the Order. Their conversation played again and again in his head, running his hands over the lightsaber sitting heavy in his hands, the ridges smooth and cold like the fear that gripped his heart. They had been doing so well. Since his concerns after the situation on Dallenor with the pirates Anakin had excelled in his training, gotten his own saber and even went on his own errand with the Chancellor. How had Obi-Wan missed the worries of his padawan? How long had Anakin been resenting his time at the Temple? How long had he wanted to leave him?
They were meant to save each other.
Swallowing down his own insecurities, Obi-Wan tried to focus on his meditation and quash the barrage of thoughts inside his mind; they weren’t fair to Anakin. Obi-Wan couldn’t blame Anakin for his concerns about his future with the Order and needing time to process the thoughts in his head. If he had been given the choice of slavery or becoming a Jedi at nine he knew what he would have chosen too. His thoughts lingered on his memories of Tatooine and a small boy clinging to his mother.
Sighing Obi-Wan stood from his meditation mat, making his way out the door and into the heart of the Coruscant streets. There was no way he would be able to focus for the evening before they went to speak to Master Yoda the next day. The adrees in his room hadn’t been enough to calm his thoughts and his meditation helpless to ease the pressing doubts in his mind. When the nights turned like this he knew he would have trouble sleeping, his body craving something stronger to silence the worries his barriers could usually resist. The Coruscant streets bustled around him and Obi-Wan slipped into the first bar he could find.
-
“Will you walk it alone?”
“No, Master. As a Jedi. If you’ll show me the way.”
Anakin was going to stay. Sure, Carnelion IV had been hell but none of that mattered now - Anakin was going to stay! Had looked up at Obi-Wan with determination in his eyes, still buzzing from the recent mission, and asked him to lead him forward.
Of course he had to celebrate. Anakin was going to stay.
-
The party swelled around them, the people of the Talinn district cheering their recent victory, as Anakin beamed into his cup. Obi-Wan looked on at his padawan, pride swelling in heart. Taris was always going to be a weird mission but when they had stumbled across an old faction whose home was in danger Anakin had managed to navigate it flawlessly. The main, inner city, of Taris got to keep going on its usual way and the faction got to keep the only home they had come to know since the devastation had hit. It wasn’t perfect, the children on Talinn deserved to see clean air, but their little home on Taris was theirs and that was all that mattered.
It had been Anakin who suggested the diversion, utilising the RazBohan comm links, he had found in one of the old wrecks, to navigate the developers away from the settlement and allowing the Corportac to conveniently find the new piece of surface to build their new development. Which at that point the Jedi confirmed the rebel insurgence had been eradicated, of course, and that they wouldn’t have any further problems from people of the wastes. Also, did the Senator know that there had been a giant sinkhole in that old site anyway? Clearly unstable and unsuitable for their plans.
Obi-Wan liked missions like these ones. Ones which easily resulted in an ending everyone could benefit from and celebrations on both sides. The Senator had invited them to a dinner at her home that evening, which they had managed to brush off with excuses of repairs before their journey home. The people of Talinn were, no doubt, more fun anyway.
“Oh, thank you, but I’m not old enough”
The words pulled Obi-Wan from his thoughts to the older woman smiling next to Anakin, offering him some of the local brew in thanks for their help. The young man that sat before him startled him, when had Anakin grown so fast? He was almost an adult, the same age he was when Obi-Wan had become his master. There were times over the years Obi-Wan had worried, even their last training session had worried him with Anakin’s need to prove himself overwhelming him in the moment, but here on the outskirts of Taris, Obi-Wan knew Anakin was going to be alright.
“One won’t hurt, Anakin,” Obi-Wan smiled.
Anakin smiled at him before turning to the woman to accept the drink as Obi-Wan continued to nurse the drink he had the whole evening, tonight he didn’t need anything more.
-
Sometimes, if Obi-Wan closed his eyes tight enough, he could still see his mother. Flashes of hair curled around shoulders, her humming as she cooked. On cold nights he could almost feel her wrapping the blankets around him. Obi-Wan barely knew her, only had those flashes to cling to when loneliness threatened to consume him, but they were enough. He had been older when they took him, almost too old. Old enough he could remember the tears rolling down her cheeks as she kissed him goodbye. Sometimes his chest still ached at the loss of what could have been. It makes him wonder how Anakin must feel with it all. Anakin was a child when he came to them, with memories of his own. Not just flashes like Obi-Wan's but fully fledged memories built up over years. The Order, try as it might, could never erase that time; it was no wonder Anakin struggled to belong. How could he relate to the others in the Temple when none of them could remember home? How could he relate to Obi-Wan? They couldn't remember being held tight in the night when they had a nightmare or someone kissing their childhood scrapes away. Someone other than the crèche elders reading them enough stories to fill the galaxy. To miss something you barely remembered was bad enough but the loss of everything you once knew? If Obi-Wan's chest ached then Anakin's must burn.
-
Watching Anakin leave with Padmé to begin his journey to Naboo had left an ache in Obi-Wan’s chest. This would be Anakin’s first, proper, solo mission. He couldn’t be there to observe him, to watch over him and offer him guidance. It would be their longest time apart since they first met on the desert sands of Tatooine. Logically he knew this was healthy, that his padawan needed to have this time to become his own person outside of their bond but it did nothing to stop the tendrils of attachment gripping at his heart.
During their hunt for Zam Anakin had told him he was like a father to him. That kind of love was dangerous in itself but his own threatened to topple them entirely. Obi-Wan always saw Anakin more as the little brother he raised but deep down he knew there was truth to those words and it scared him. Who else had bandaged his wounds and helped him back up when he fell? Who else had been there for the nightmares? Who else felt the swell of pride when Anakin succeeded in his training?
He thought back to Qui-Gon and the pain of losing him, how that day had changed the course of his life both as padawan and master. Losing Qui-Gon was terrible but he had managed to carry on moving forward, trusted that the Force had a purpose and trusted it to guide him there. Anakin was so much more than a deathbed promise, a prophecy to see through, a padawan to train; he was everything. If he lost Anakin– he couldn’t even dare to finish that though.
There wasn’t time to dwell on what ifs when he had a mission to complete. In his room Obi-Wan studied the star charts in front of him, a glass of something amber in his hand (he’d long forgotten what hid in the bottles squirrelled away as long as it went down the same). It looked like Zam’s leads were drawing him towards the Abrion sector. Hopefully whatever hid there would be the end to this whole ordeal.
-
War. That’s what was on the horizon now the dusts of Geonosis had settled. The greatest war they would know. The clones had been called into battle, Count Dooku had fled, and Anakin was currently in the med bay awaiting a new arm. Worst still Obi-Wan knew he had to leave Anakin to recover, and accompany Padmé back to Naboo. Failure weighed heavy on his chest. He wanted to be there for Anakin, truly he did, but there was a war starting and the Jedi were about to be needed more than ever.
There was a comfort that Anakin would be returning to Naboo with Padmé at least. Obi-Wan ignored the warning screaming at the back of his mind, he had seen the way they looked at each other. He wasn’t blind. Memories of similar looks years ago flashed in his mind. War was brewing, Anakin could have this.
-
The ceremony had been wonderful. Anakin may have complained, saying it was a waste of time as he had already been knighted but Obi-Wan insisted. It was his chance to show the Order everything that Anakin had strived to achieve despite everything. He had been pulled and poked his entire training. Every obstacle they threw at him, every impossible task passed his way; Anakin showed them all he was worthy of the name.
After the ceremony Obi-Wan had congratulated him and teased Anakin about his training braid and how he now needed to actually figure out what he wanted to do with his hair for a change. He didn’t know how else a master was meant to greet their padawan promoting to Jedi Knight, having never got to experience it himself but he felt Qui-Gon would have done something similar.
Tomorrow the war would continue and Anakin would lead his own command of troops but today he was the newly appointed Knight whom Obi-Wan was proud to know and kriff if Obi-Wan wanted to celebrate that with a few drinks who was going to tell them no?
-
Ahsoka beamed up at them, excited to meet her new master. They were in the midst of a war, they were trapped on a planet with limited communications with enemy forces swarming them at every turn, and now a youngling had been stranded with them.
You’re older than most.
Memories flashed behind his eyes of his fourteen year old self, trapped in a war zone. A girl his age, whose name he never got, dying in his arms. She had smiled at him too when he first arrived. Obi-Wan looked at Ahsoka's smile and felt his fingers itch for the flask in his pocket. She was fourteen.
-
Collapsing onto his bunk Obi-Wan groaned as pain shot up his back. The last mission had been gruelling. He had been trapped on the planet surface for days, the comms link between him and the ship destroyed. He had completed the reconnaissance mission with little interference and the information they had found could really help the Republic. He just wished it hadn’t taken so long.
Clenching his hands the small tremors seemed to calm but the sweat still clung to his skin, his skin burning even though he no longer stood under the twinned suns of Byss but then why did he feel so cold? It was just exhaustion, he told himself, he would be fine in the morning. He just needed a sonic shower and a good night's sleep. He hadn’t slept properly since the mission started, not that one can sleep properly when hiding out in a derelict shack anyway.
Obi-Wan peeled off his robes as he stood up and poured himself a quick drink before making his way to the sonic. Shivering he blamed the cold on his lack of robes as he climbed in through the door. The pressure on his chest easing slightly as the liquid passed his lips. He would be fine in the morning.
-
It was a rare evening for the 212, finding themselves on shore leave on Coruscant for the first time in ages. They had descended into the 79’s and had, somehow, managed to convince Obi-Wan to join them. Obi-Wan smiled as he watched his troops unwind from the past couple of weeks, feeling honoured they had invited him to their little sanctuary. Even Cody was loosening up around his brothers, not having to worry about orders and missions for once.
Wooley was in the middle of a story of his time on Kamino training when Project crashed into their table grinning, a tray of drinks in his hands. “Who wants to lose tonight?”
The clones groaned, clearly in on whatever Project was trying to coax them to do.
“Kriff off, Project.”
“None of us want a hangover tomorrow, sithspit.”
“You’ve beaten everybody here at least twice, Project,” sighed Cody. The sound of a man who had had to drag too many of his brothers home at the end of the night. “What makes you think anyone is going to want to lose again?”
Ah, a drinking game , thought Obi-Wan laughing at the reaction of the clones. Who knew Project had it in him? He was such a lithe looking clone and yet the presence of him with a tray of nog shots.
“Not everyone,” grinned Project menacingly, turning to look at Obi-Wan.
“Oh come off it, Project.”
“Yeah,” chimed in Waxer. “You know the General doesn’t drink much.”
“The General can speak for himself.” Project hadn’t taken his eyes off Obi-Wan, almost daring him to look away. “What do you say, General?”
Obi-Wan looked up at Project, it was like staring down an acklay who felt an easy prey was sitting before them. Chuckling he couldn’t help but feel a bit sorry for Project, he had no idea who he just challenged. “Okay then.”
The clones around him shouted out a cacophony of objections around him, the rest of the bar turning to see the scene that laid before them.
“But you never drink!”
“He’s a seasoned pro at this, General, don’t do it!”
“You haven’t even finished your first!”
“You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into!”
“Now, now, gentleman,” Project shouted over the noise around him. “The General has made his choice.”
“Obi-Wan,” Cody whispered in his ear. “You don’t have to do this.”
Holding Project’s stare Obi-Wan lifted his glass to his mouth, draining the remainder of the cup he had been nursing all night. The Ryloth he had been savouring going down smoothly as if it had been water. “Let's get started, shall we?”
From that point chaos ensued. Project had placed drinks before them and they had downed each one in succession, each seemingly unaffected by the last. The clones surrounding them seemed to grow with each cheer, encouraging Obi-Wan with each drink placed before him. After the first ten Obi-Wan felt the rush tingle in his fingers, that edge and freedom he often chased washing over him in a familiar embrace. It was nice doing this with others for a change.
“I thought,” he smirked, “this was meant to be a challenge.”
Project guffawed, banging his fist on the table and demanding the strongest bottle of Jet Juice they could find.
Fifteen more drinks later and Project was struggling to sit up straight. Obi-Wan could feel the edges of his control begin to slip but he knew he could keep going for longer. The Jet Juice was strong and vibrant with a slight citrus taste to it, whoever brewed this had had some fun.
“You can back out any time,” Project slurred, his drink sloshing over his glass as he gestured towards Obi-Wan.
Placing his glass up to his lips Obi-Wan swallowed the next round, making sure to keep Project’s eye line as the Jet Juice slid down his throat. The burn smoothing in a bizarre kind of way that had come to ease him. Beside him he could feel the concerned stares of Cody drilling into his side but Obi-Wan ignored him, he didn’t want to listen to reason at this moment. He wasn’t Jedi Master Kenobi or General Kenobi tonight; he was just plain Obi-Wan and it was invigorating. Gently placing the empty glass upside down Obi-Wan smirked, he definitely could keep going.
“Your turn.”
Nodding Project stared down at the glass in front of him, as if trying to will it to float up to him, before he promptly passed out on the table. The bar erupted, the troops of the 212 shouting Obi-Wan’s name as if it were a victory cry.
“Did you see-”
“I can’t believe-”
“No one’s ever out drunk Project!”
As the celebrations carried on around him Obi-Wan chuckled, reaching out to take the glass next to Project’s head and bring it to his lips, chasing that buzz beneath his skin a little further.
-
He watched from the shadows as Anakin stood by his body, watching it be lowered into the ground to be reunited to the Force. His heart ached, wanting to forget the mission and embrace Anakin like he had when he was a boy, to reassure Anakin that he hadn’t left, he was right there but he couldn’t. Obi-Wan wasn’t even meant to be there in the first place. Master Yoda would be disappointed at him jeopardising the mission just to check in on his own funeral but he had to be there for him.
Looking down he knew that Anakin wasn’t alone. Ahsoka and Padmé were there to comfort him where he could not. They would steady him in this time until Obi-Wan was able to return. Ahsoka in the way he had done for Obi-Wan when Master Qui-Gon had died, Padmé in the way - well, in the way that only Padmé could. That would be enough to reassure him in the time to come as he was about to head into the belly of the beast.
On the other side of Padmé he heard her weep and his heart broke all over again. Anakin he had anticipated but he never expected her. His eyes flitted over, catching blonde strands held together in an effortless look she always managed to pull off. How had he forgotten about her in all of this? She didn’t have anyone she could confide in about this, it wasn’t fair.
Taking one last look at the scene below him Obi-Wan turned to return to the med bay to continue the rest of his transformation. The sooner he could find out more about the plan to kidnap the Chancellor and put an end to this madness. When he closed his eyes the scenes below him continued to play in his mind, he would have to wash those away later. He just hoped that they could forgive him.
-
"There will be more innocent blood on your hands, Kenobi!”
He was still alive. Taunting those around him, demanding Obi-Wan face him. Screams echoed in his mind from years ago melding with those who were reaching out into the Force now, the people who suffered at his hand. That day on Naboo had meant to be the end but as that familiar voice reached out over the commlink Obi-Wan laughed bitterly, of course he couldn’t be that lucky.
He’d failed Qui-Gon all over again. Killing Maul was meant to be the one thing he had done right as a padawan and he hadn’t even managed that right. Now the people of Raydonia were in danger because of it. Bile rose in his throat as he went over the transmission again and again.
“Unless you come. Face me. Come alone.”
It was suicide. Maul wanted him to go alone, no doubt leading him into a trap. The Council would provide support if he asked, Anakin would go if he asked. His hands shook, cold spreading through him as the memory of Qui-Gon dying in his arms washed over him.
“If you do not, this world will burn!"
His hand gripped his flask, the tremors easing as his anxieties washed away; he knew what he had to do. Qui-Gon’s memory would not be in vain, the people of Raydonia would be safe, he would prove that he was worthy of his role in the Jedi. He had to go alone.
-
The world of Mandalore was breaking around them but Obi-Wan could not dare to break her gaze, her eyes that once sparkled glazing over. He would not leave her now, could not. Her breath cooling on his skin just like his had. There was nothing he could do, Maul’s guards surrounded them on all fronts and she was too injured.
“Remember, my dear Obi-Wan,” she gasped, reaching up to hold his cheek. Obi-Wan leaned into her touch, chasing the warmth from so many years ago. If he closed his eyes then maybe this would all be a dream, they would be waking up together in their hideaway on Draboon and all of this would be gone. The throne room’s grey tones mocked him instead as Satine mustered by the last dregs of her energy to smile. “I’ve loved you always… I always will.
Obi-Wan felt the last of her exhale out into the world as Satine went limp in his hands, her body falling heavy in his arms. Another piece of his dying with her. Gently he raised her hand to his lips, pressing the ghost of a kiss they had long been denied into her palm. She was gone. Used as a pawn in Maul’s games as if her life was just something he would trade away. The grief and the anger swarmed inside, Satine had had nothing to do with any of it. The rage inside him boiled, threatening to overspill. They needed to suffer, they needed to burn, Maul needed to burn. As he laid her to rest, making sure not to disturb her head as he did, he could hear Maul’s amusement echo throughout the chambers. He continued to stare at Satine, trying to imprint her features in his memory, when the realisation hit him in a sickening, twisted way. She had loved him for who he was, not the man Maul wanted him to be. If he allowed Maul to take his anger in this moment he would no longer be that man.
Maul’s guards dragged him to his feet, the world around him muffled, as he maintained his view of her face for as long as possible. A cold, shooting pain ripped through his heart. He had left her once to do what was right and now he would do it again.
-
Anakin’s gaze had been piercing. If anyone had any idea of the grief that was threatening to consume him it was him. They had spoken about loss and anger and the difficulty to remain one’s self despite it all. Still, even after telling the Council everything with Anakin lingering behind, he had not been able to share the whole truth.
They would not know the way her laughter had brightened the harsh nights in the mines, would not know the love that lingered in his heart. He thought of Padmé. He could not warn Anakin of the pain of losing one so close to you, how could he shatter the peace he had struggled to find? Hand flexing around his glass he remembered the tiny boy who had been afraid to lose someone else, he remembered the shine leaving Satine’s eyes.
Obi-Wan stared out to the skies above, watching the Coruscant night swirl by and tried, helplessly, to convince himself that the tears in his eyes were from the alcohol burning his throat, even though it hadn’t stung him for years.
-
The hurt rushed off Anakin in waves beside him, the stress of the last few days finally catching up to him. From the tragedy of the bombings to trying to clear Ahsoka’s name to her finally walking away there had been little time to get Anakin to sit down and rest. Thankfully he had managed to convince Anakin to take some time away from the Temple before they were thrust back fully into the war effort, camping under the night sky just like they had when Anakin was a padawan. He remembered a time when Anakin almost left, how the decision had almost consumed him.
“Anakin,” he began, “dwelling on Ahsoka’s decision won’t bring her back.”
“I miss her, okay? Is that what you wanted me to say?” Anakin snapped, the fire crackling between them as he threw more kindling into the flame. “I still can’t understand how she could’ve left the Order.”
Obi-Wan sighed, Anakin’s thoughts were reminiscent of his own all those years ago. Although Anakin’s situation had been vastly different it didn’t erase the pain it had caused nor did it ease the shock. “It was a surprise decision to all of us.”
“It was wrong! She’s a Jedi; she belongs with us!” Standing up Anakin stared at Obi-Wan who could only look on. Ahsoka did belong with them, truly, but it had been her choice to make just as much as Anakin’s had been all those years ago. “She’s one of us.”
He didn’t need to be able to read Anakin’s mind to know that ‘us’ had not meant the Order and Obi-Wan knew he needed to change the subject soon. They could not afford to go down that line of thinking. Not if Obi-Wan wanted to continue to play the picture of blissful ignorance. “She made the decision, Anakin.”
“Well, what choice did we give her?”
None at all , thought Obi-Wan.
“The moment there were any suspicions about her loyalty, the Council turned their back on her.”
“I will grant you mistakes were made, but she chose to leave,” Obi-Wan reasoned. Just like you chose to stay . “Part of the Jedi way is not letting emotion cloud your better judgement and that’s precisely what Ahsoka did, even in her most critical moment.”
Maybe this had been a mistake after all. The events still too raw for Anakin, who always loved so fiercely. To Anakin this was just another person in his life he had lost, another thing taken away. This was not something Obi-Wan had an answer for, this was something Anakin had to figure out alone.
“Why don’t you get some rest?"
“I’m not tired,” Anakin replied, not looking back at him. “You can rest, Master. I will keep first watch.”
“Well, then, I will accept your kind offer.” Obi-Wan took to his bedroll beside the fire, staring out into the expanse before him. His attempt at comfort useless. “You can’t take responsibility for Ahsoka’s decision, Anakin.”
He didn’t know what else to say. There probably wasn’t anything that he could say at that moment that would help. Obi-Wan felt hopeless, unable to help guide Anakin through another moment in his life. Reaching into his robes Obi-Wan clutched at his flask, the familiar shell a grounding comfort in the silence that sat between them. At least something never changed.
“How would you feel if I turned into a major disappointment?”
The silence was shattered and fractured Obi-Wan’s heart in two. How could Anakin think he could ever disappoint him?
“It’s not the same-”
“It’s precisely the same. You took me under your wing and practically raised me. I’m your padawan, just like Ahsoka was mine. How well would you sleep knowing that I failed you?”
“Not very well, I imagine.” As the fire crackled, Anakin’s words sinking into the ground around him, Obi-Wan couldn't help but feel ashamed. He knew Anakin kept things from him, darting between the lines of attachment on a daily basis, but none of that was a failure; did he teach him that it was? When had he taught Anakin that the love he held was a shame? That the pain of his loss was something to be hidden? His fingers flexed around his flask. How could he even begin to convince Anakin otherwise? “Luckily, that isn’t true and never will be.”
The silence returned and this time Obi-Wan was glad for it. He barely slept the remainder of Anakin’s watch, staring out into the darkness, memories swimming around in his head.
-
The Order was beginning to notice. They couldn’t afford this now, not when the war lingered on. Anakin had not been thinking clearly during the meeting with the Chancellor, his animosity towards Clovis evident for all to see. He couldn’t just let this go, he had to say something.
“Anakin, I understand to a degree what is going on. You’ve met Satine. You know I once harboured feelings for her.” The loss of Satine still clung to him on long, cold nights aboard The Negotiator but he had made his choice long before Anakin had even left Tatooine. Even after the events on Mandalore, if given the choice he would go back and make that same decision again. “It’s not that we’re not allowed to have these feelings. It’s natural.”
“Senator Amidala and I are simply friends,” Anakin insisted, the lie rolling off the tongue after years of practice.
“And friends you must remain. As a Jedi, it is essential you make the right choice, Anakin, for the Order.”
At least until the war ends, Obi-Wan thought. Please just hold on until the end of the war. With the end of the war Obi-Wan hoped Anakin would finally be free of the burden on his shoulders, the obligation to an Order that had saved him from slavery. Free of the burden of being the Chosen One and living up to expectations impossible to meet. He deserved to live a peaceful life with Padmé if that was what he wanted. Of course he could never tell Anakin any of that, not yet. To do so would make everything real and he wasn’t ready for that. If it was real that would mean facing a future where Anakin would not always be by his side, it had been so long he didn’t even know what being alone truly meant anymore. He had gone from being padawan to Master Qui-Gon to being Anakin’s master with no time between to figure out who he truly was beneath it all. Unlike the other Jedi around him he had no time to carve out who he could be, independent of them all. No true sense of purpose but to serve others. Master Qui-Gon had had his silly prophecies and Anakin had even had his tinkering & robotics and even Ahsoka was finding her own way, what did Obi-Wan have? Hidden bottles of adrees and a swirling sense of dread of finding out that maybe, after everything, he was the problem after all.
-
Dooku was dead. The events on the Invisible Hand replayed in his mind as he left the Council, the moments he laid unconscious leaving large gaps in what happened on the ship. When he had come to Anakin had told him what happened in their rescue of the Chancellor he didn’t know what to think. Something ate at the back of his mind, something urging him to think things through; there was something he was missing. He wanted to celebrate their recent victory but the look on Anakin’s face… Obi-Wan chased his doubts away with a swig of his drink, hoping the uneasiness was nothing more.
-
The echoes of the screams filled his mind. The unending wave of loss pulsing throughout the Force the longer they stayed. Obi-Wan’s eyes fixed to the security footage as his heart leapt into his throat. It couldn’t be, he didn’t want to believe it, it wasn’t him. The images were the same, sure, the same hair, build, height but the eyes… those weren’t his boy’s eyes. He watched the younglings run towards the door before— he had taught him that move.
Forcing himself to watch it all, Obi-Wan felt the pain of those echoes merge with his own, wishing he could afford the luxury of silencing it at this moment. As he watched Sidious dub Anakin his new title Obi-Wan felt helpless. What was he to do? He wouldn’t face Ana- Vader like that. There was no way he could kill him. He wouldn’t. No matter what he had just seen, that was the scared little boy who clung to his bedsheets at night, afraid that he would leave. He was the one who snuck in broken droids to fix them in the middle of the night, trying to hide the oil stains on his hands.
But be strong , his own words from moments before reverberating back to him; he was right. He had to be strong.
-
As he hid inside the star skiff, knowing Padmé would lead him to Anakin, Obi-Wan couldn’t help but feel anger at her idea he could toss Anakin aside so easily. Yes, he had to stop him but kill him? He understood her pain and the concern for the father of her child. Kriff, her and Anakin’s child. They should have been rejoicing. He wanted to celebrate. They deserved to celebrate. Instead he was crouched in a hidden compartment of the ship, trying to control the tremor in his hand and praying his strength would find him on the other end. When they landed he would need to be prepared for whatever would happen. He had to try and save Anakin at least, that young boy surely still in there. He had to try, even if it killed him.
-
The heat overwhelmed him as he climbed back up the ridge, the anguish threatening to overpower him. Why did he feel so cold? At the river of lava Anakin crawled towards him, a shadow of the man he was once. His cries carried over the roar of the fire and brimstone to him; it broke Obi-Wan’s heart all over again.
“I HATE YOU!”
“You were my brother, Anakin.” He cried, no longer trying to hold back his tears. “I loved you.”
I still love you, he wanted to scream.
He watched as the fire caught on Anakin’s leg and began to engulf him, the screams deafening. As the flames melted his skin, Anakin reached out for him, asking for help to stop the never-ending pain, and Obi-Wan knew if he stayed now, he would be lost forever. The cries of Anakin threatening to cling on carried themselves over the blackened banks of Mustafar and somehow, somehow, Obi-Wan managed to tear himself away, slowly making the climb back to find Padmé, as he did the one thing he thought he never would do - he left Anakin alone.
-
The babies screamed in his arms as he looked at the body of their mother. His friend. Her dying breath begging him to see the good in Anakin, even after everything. She was- had been better than them all. As Luke and Leia squirmed in his arms he couldn’t help but picture what could have been. Visiting them all on Naboo as the twins ran around his feet, showing them around the Temple and all the hiding spots their father used to frequent, teaching them the ways of the Force as he had their father. They had had their future stolen too and, maybe, it was a blessing they would never know what they would miss.
The Jedi were scattered & destroyed, the Republic finished, something dark and terrible on the rise but none of that mattered now. He had to keep them safe. They were all that mattered now.
-
He didn’t turn back as he rode off into the Jundland Wastes, knowing his resolve would break if he did. Leia was safe with Bail and Breha, she would grow up in the safety of their home and be treated like the princess she truly was. Luke would remain with his aunt and uncle, a life that long ago that could have been Anakin’s. It was what was best, he had to trust Master Yoda in this. What else was there?
-
“How well would you sleep knowing that I had failed you?”
Obi-Wan rolled around the cave floor struggling to find a position comfortable enough to rest. His bedding wasn’t the greatest quality, barely enough to constitute a bedroll, but it was all he deserved. Every time he went to lay his head the memories flooded in, threatening to overtake him. He replayed the years over and over again. What had he missed? How could he have saved him? Was he always meant to be lost?
Had this been how Master Qui-Gon had felt all those years ago each time Xanatos had spread his misery across the planets? Did the screams of those caught in his destruction keep Qui-Gon up at night? Sometimes, on rare nights, Obi-Wan still felt the sulphur cling to his nostrils. The bubbling of the acid now merging with the sound of the lava as he watched his padawan brought down before him. He could understand now why Qui-Gon had distanced himself as he had. Those memories must have lingered each time he trained him, each time Obi-Wan had failed him. Had Xanatos’ dying words haunted him at night?
“I am your biggest failure.”
And that, truly, was the worst part of all. Deep down a twisted part of him wanted Anakin to know that he had never failed him, the failure had been Obi-Wan’s all along, but any hope of that had burnt on the shores of Mustafar. Instead Obi-Wan was left with the freezing nights of Tatooine, the quiet of the sands unsettling and long. Master Qui-Gon, Satine, Padmé, the Order, Anakin; he had failed them all. Reaching for his flask Obi-Wan sighed, the dreams wouldn’t visit him tonight.
-
Obi-Wan would wake up in the morning, the blazing suns of Tatooine rising early to herald in the new day. Dragging himself to work he would cut away at the carcass of the sand whale to earn the few credits he needed for supplies. As he hauled himself back to the cave he would down his flask on the way there, never stopping to savour the taste; it was basically paint thinner anyway. The rest of the evening he would spend meditating, hoping that somehow he could reach over to Master Qui-Gon for guidance, until the night pulled on too long and he would, reluctantly, lay his head down to rest and ready himself to repeat it all over again the next day.
He would wake up in the morning, he would go to work, come home to drink, meditate until it was time to pass out, and repeat it all over again the next day.
He woke up. He went to work. He drank, meditated, repeat.
Wake up, work, drink, meditate, repeat. Wake, work, drink, meditate, repeat.
Work, drink, repeat. Work, drink, repeat.
Work.
Drink.
It wasn’t living, whatever it was, but it was all he had left.
Repeat.
-
Obi-Wan shot up from his dreams, a scream dying in his throat.
“Master Qui-Gon?” He called out into the darkness. He thought he had heard him, his voice a whisper in the wind, and couldn’t help but think that perhaps after all these years Qui-Gon would reach out to him too. Help guide him towards the future. The hope clawed at his throat, grasping for every inch it could take. After all this time it was all he had.
“Master?”
The darkness looked back but did not say a word. Burying his head in his hand, Obi-Wan sighed into the night. It was just the wind.
-
The panic swelled as he realised how close they had come to discovering Luke. If they had indeed found him, if Owen hadn’t been able to keep quiet, he would have been powerless to stop them. Part of him was sickened at the relief he felt when he had seen they had caught Nari instead, leaving the Lars family alone. The body of Nari, still warm, casting a shadow onto the streets below. How had his life become this?
-
She looked just like her mother. So fearless and so stubborn. The resemblance cut him like a knife. Yet something niggled at the back of his mind as she stared up defiantly up at him. A hint of a boy he once knew. His heart ached. He bought her the gloves.
-
“What have you become?”
“I am what you made me.”
The flames surrounded him as Anakin dragged him across the rocks, pain searing through his body. Obi-Wan prayed Leia was safe, that despite everything she would make it home to Bail. The ringing in his ears overwhelmed him as time began to blur together, the pain stronger than anything he had ever felt. Was this how Anakin had felt when Obi-Wan left him to die? I deserve this , he felt as he felt himself slipping away. This was always how it was meant to be.
-
The crack of his lightsaber meeting Anakin’s helmet reverberated through the clearing merging with the sounds of Anakin’s laboured breaths, the sparks melting away at the material to show the melted flesh beneath. Pain shot through Obi-Wan’s heart as he saw the scars of Mustafar etched onto that once angelic face. “Anakin…”
“Anakin is gone.” The voice cracked, morphing between the boy he had known and the monster he had become. “I am what remains.”
“I’m sorry,” his voice broke. Tears were welling up in his eyes, years of regret and failure overspilling into the space between them. “I’m sorry, Anakin. For all of it.”
“I’m not your failure, Obi-Wan. You didn’t kill Anakin Skywalker. I did.” The glow of their sabers melted away leaving only the red of Vader’s illuminating his face. The glint in his eye something fearful and foreign. “The same way, I will destroy you.”
“Then my friend is truly dead.” Vader stumbled towards him, struggling to breathe with his helmet damaged as the light of his saber swayed closer towards Obi-Wan. He could end it now. Vader was weakened before him but there was still fight left in him. He stared into the eyes he once knew, now yellowed and filled with hate. It wouldn’t take much.
Obi-Wan… There’s good in him. I know. I know there’s still–, she whispered in his ear. Vader had taken over but somehow, somewhere, Padmé had managed to find the good in him still. To her, and the memory of the friend he once loved, he owed him the chance to try.
“Goodbye, Darth.”
He ignored the cries of his name falling from Vader’s mouth as he continued back towards his ship, dropping his flask onto the rocks below. It was time he went home.
-
The twins were safe again, the inquisitors would not rear their ugly heads towards Tatooine again, and for the first time in decades Obi-Wan’s mind was finally still. As he made his way back across the sands of Tatooine, towards the Jundland Wastes, he knew this time would be different.
As the passing became clearer in the distance a familiar figure flickered into view. His chest ached as he looked down to see the way his hair fell across his back, the way he held himself - there was no mistaking who that could be.
“Master Qui-Gon…”
“Well, took you long enough!” Teased Qui-Gon, his hands returning to this usual place on his hips, the way they had so many times before.
“Beginning to think you’d never come,” he smiled back. Oh how he had missed this.
“I was always here, Obi-Wan. You just… were not ready to see.” Part of Obi-Wan broke at that but he knew, in his heart, that Qui-Gon was right. He had spent all those years running through the motions, allowing himself to be trapped in the mistakes of the past, but now it was time for something new. “Come on, we’ve got a ways to go.”
As Qui-Gon melted away Obi-Wan steered forward into the pass towards home. He would move out of his cave, his self made prison not something he wished to wallow in any longer. He had refound his hope.
-
The cold night air did little to squash the flames littering Obi-Wan’s skin, sweat pooled around him as his body shuddered through the withdrawal. This was the longest he had gone without a drink since… he didn’t even know.
The urge to empty his stomach gripped him, bile soaking into the sands beneath his feet. His stomach had little left apart from the water he passed through his lips each time he expelled more. His body might be trying to cleanse itself but Tatooine was still a desert and water was precious.
Master Qui-Gon had stayed with him the night before, assuring him of what was real or not. Part of him felt shame for his old master to see him like this but deep down he knew this was no weakness. He was fighting a battle he had been building up to his whole life and he would see the other end victorious.
-
Obi-Wan sucked at the sand between his teeth. The grit against his teeth was coarse and revolting. He had poured it there, something had to be left. A small pocket yet not evaporated by the twinned suns above, a drop congealed in the sands, something!
-
Perhaps if he could sit up long enough he could ride his eopie to the nearest settlement and find the closest bar around. It couldn’t be more than a few hours ride. As he tried to stand him his legs gave way, shaking from trying to support his weight. He cursed himself for throwing away the rest of the liquor as he stared out into the vast desert dunes of Tatooine.
Perhaps, if he tried hard enough, he could stand up against the wall.
-
The days blurred into one as Obi-Wan continued to push through the withdrawal, the tremors no longer threatening to overtake his whole body. Slowly, day by day, it became easier to breathe again. The weight on his chest no longer a throbbing mass that wanted to consume him.
Some days he spoke with Qui-Gon, speaking through the pain he had bottled up all his life. Others he would scream into the darkness, asking the Force to just end it all. Until slowly, but surely, he began to meet the day with ease. His nights no longer filled with the screams of wars long past.
This wasn’t over, he knew he still had long to go before this would truly be behind him, but he was starting to see the other side and it was so bright. Kneeling down to meditate, something he hadn’t yet done since he returned back from his mission, Obi-Wan looked out into the wastes before him and smiled, the twinned suns of Tatooine brushing across his skin and, for the first time in years, he felt the warmth at last.