Honeys, I'm home! A new SW obi-angst-no dialogue- fic for you. And now, once again, with feeling: not mine. Lucas's. I just wrote the story. Dong-ma?

The Death and Life of Kenobi

Obi-Wan Kenobi died.

It was not a quick death: merciful, painless. It was a slow one: so agonizingly slow that even Obi-Wan himself didn't know exactly when he had started to die. It had been a process; a series of events, of times and places, and the people in them.

A lifetime of little deaths.

First came the death of childhood, of constant security. Blast it, he was a grown man, had been a senior Padawan for years: his Knighthood would not be far away, he knew it. He had done some solo missions, had dreamed of exciting adventures of his own that would soon begin.

But after each dream, he had someone he could tell about it, and after each flight he had a home to return to, and someone there to tell him he had done well, or that it would all be alright. Someone who always knew what to do, someone he could lean on, someone who would not judge his opinions, someone who, sometimes, knew him better that he himself did.

But then that someone was gone, nothing left of him but memories, a promise and a lightsaber, and the lingering presence in their rooms that would not let him sleep at night, screaming of chosen ones and failures, pains and things long past that could be neither forgotten nor forgiven.

Now he would have to be the dependable one, the one to be leaned on. He would have to leave the childhood dreams of being a Knight, and become a Master instead.

When Qui-Gon Jinn died, a part of Obi-Wan died as well.

Then came the death of peace, of innocence. He had always sworn to protect the people of the Republic, and even to kill if necessary. He'd been on scuffles and battles on countless planets; but a war of the entire galaxy... He was a Jedi, proud to be one, a guardian of peace, with speech and negotiation always as his first weapons. Now he became a soldier, bearing a military rank, it's weight heavy on his shoulders.

He became a killer.

Blood in his hands, blood he could not justify or explain as easily as before. It tore him apart, from the inside, slowly and sneakily. The only way to cope was to accept, and learn to enjoy it. The thrill of it. But that sickened him even more, to experience it all again, after ten years, the want, the need to kill.

To go so close to falling down the melting pit again.

To jeopardise his faith in the laws and the ways of the Force and his kin, and just let it happen, forget what should, what ought to be.

When the Clone Wars began, so began the war inside Obi-Wan, a war that slowly killed.

The death of hope, of it all. He had known, before he had even watched the security feed, that it was Anakin. He had known. And he hated himself for that.

The things that went down in Mustafar... Unspeakable, unthinkable, unbearable things.

His home, his friends... gone.

Padme... gone.

All, everything, the universe... gone. All was lost.

The nights on Tatooine were the blackest of his life. He tried to run from sleep, but sleep would always catch him, wrap him in nightmares of fire and two blades clashing with the intent to destroy. And dark were the dawns and the days as well, for even in the light he could think of nothing but the fire, the blades and the end of an era. The end of it all.

With Anakin's fall, came the fall of an Order.

And with Anakin's death, came the death of Obi-Wan.

Rather cheery, was it not? Well, if you recall the name of the story, then you should already know that the next chapter will be even happier.

You know what makes me happy? I think you do :)