Hey guys! So, this little ficlet (one-shot?) got quite the decent reception when I posted it on tumblr, so why not share it with you guys on here? As a note, I made a few minor changes, not anything too noticeable.

I really loved the Obi-Wan's funeral scene in the episode. There are so many incredible possibilities to write for every character in this scene, so there is a possibility to see more of these in the near future...


If Obi-Wan would have seen the number of politicians attending the service, his mouth would no doubt thin, as he kept his animosity quietly to himself. For as long as Ahsoka had known him (known of him, really. He'd been quite the figure during her time in the creche), he'd always been like that. Keeping his deeper feelings to himself, while chiding those around him about handling theirs.

The Duchess of Mandalore wept openly. It was a staggering sight, for the Duchess had always seemed so aloof, so above everyone else. Her mask had cracked, revealing Satine, the woman Obi-Wan only spoke in snippets about, and who he warned Anakin not to say a word about. The woman Master Kenobi cared about more than he let on, and who clearly felt those feelings in return. Her presence in the Force was muddled with raw grief.

Senator Amidala was better at hiding it, but Ahsoka could easily make out the heavy sadness in her lovely gaze. She stood close to the Duchess, offering silent comfort, the only way one of her class could in a public setting.

And there were others. The Chancellor himself attended, not just one of his aids. The older man was sadly shaking his head, clearly troubled by this alarming turn of events.

Only the Jedi remained in perfect composure as the shrouded body descended into the floor. Ahsoka faltered, her knees feeling shaky. But she didn't give way. Obi-Wan would disapprove if she had. Grief is meant to pass through a Jedi's life, Ahsoka, his crisp voice reminded in the back of her mind. Not linger to fester and boil inside.

Master Plo Koon did not remark upon her comment concerning Anakin. In fact, he did not even seem surprised. Everyone knew far too well Anakin's difficulty when it came to failure, to death. He would take it hard when his Troopers perished. But this time, it wasn't his men - it was his father.

His desperate screams in the alley had eventually turned hoarse, until he fell completely silent. He had not uttered a word to anyone at the Temple for the last two days, only briefly when giving his report to the Council. Then, he sounded blank, robotic.

Ahsoka could feel the slow burning grief that surrounded and penetrated her Master, mingling with a volley of other emotions. Suspicion. Confusion. Fear. Rage.

She could admit quietly to herself that she was wary to see what he would do next.