The idea for this came from the plot from the original Clone Wars comics; specifically, the last page of Volume 3 ("Last Stand on Jabiim"), and the majority of Volume 5 ("The Best Blades") and Volume 7 ("When They Were Brothers"), respectively. There are also minor references to events from Karen Miller's Clone Wars novel, "Wild Space", as well as Issue 6 of the new(est) Clone Wars comic book, currently being published by Dark Horse. I've heard minor griping from site patrons that citing inspiration for stories is akin to stealing plot lines and even plagiarizing. I strongly disagree; if anything, all of the source materials listed above are required reading for Clone Wars-era fen, and I hope my 'fic gives a few people the initiative to seek them out.
Summary: In the wake of tragedy, Ahsoka reflects on who her Master is, and what he means to her. Rated PG-13.
Recovery
Master Kenobi is hurt badly, of that Ahsoka is sure. The other details are fuzzy, grasped from the tittering of med-droids, the parade of Jedi Healers and Masters moving in and out of the operating room that he's in, and from her own Master, who is giving off the most unrestrained anger and pain that she's ever felt through the Force.
Ahsoka sits quietly on a bench outside the room where all of the action is taking place. It's been three days since they first found Obi-Wan and high-tailed it across the galaxy, and Master Anakin has not left his side. She can hear him on the other side of the wall, arguing, his voice loud and furious. Ahsoka picks at a string on her tunic sleeve and smiles a little to herself. The situation deserves no levity, but her Master sure knows how to cause a scene.
It's not two minutes later that the door swings open abruptly, Anakin fairly thrown through it. He lets out a string of angry curses, and then runs his hands, mechanical and otherwise, through his hair. He's filthy; they all are. They'd separated, Anakin and Ahsoka from Obi-Wan, in order to foil a Separatist plot. It was weeks before they even had a lead on where Master Kenobi had disappeared to, and as Anakin had reminded his apprentice every step of the way through gritted teeth, it was "nearly too late".
It was Asajj Ventress who had nabbed Obi-Wan. The news had surprised her Master, Ahsoka recalls ruefully - Ventress was very, very good at pretending to be dead. By the time they'd located him, deep underground and well after Republic troops had been ordered to move on from their post, it really had almost been too late. To say the esteemed Jedi Master was 'near death' was an understatement: He was beaten bloody, one eye swelled shut, his nose and several ribs broken. The med-droid that had examined him on the rescue ship on the way back to Coruscant had found traces of leeches in his bloodstream; he had also been hypothermic.
Unwittingly, Ahsoka shivers. She meets her Master's gaze, watching his face relax a miniscule amount; she calms him. More accurately, he knows she's been given to him so he can set a good example; regardless of whether this was a joke, something the Council expected to last only until everyone had had a good belly laugh, he seems determined to do right by her.
"How is he?" Ahsoka asks. It's a fairly obvious answer, and a rather silly question under the circumstances, but Anakin doesn't seem offended; knows, in fact, how terrified Ahsoka was at helping him Force-lift the wounded Obi-Wan onto a gurney, the idea that he wouldn't make it. It occurs to Ahsoka how little death she has actually witnessed, despite being stuck so frequently in the middle of a battlefield. Master Kenobi's demise is the first time she's had to contemplate losing someone she's truly come to care about, really contemplate, like thinking about his body stretched prone on a traditional Jedi funeral pyre. 'Don't mourn the dead', she's been taught for as long as she can remember, 'for they will ascend into the Force and be at peace'. It's stubborn, she supposes, selfish, but she's not ready to see Master Kenobi ascend yet. He needs to stay right there.
Anakin touches her shoulder kindly. "He's stabilizing," her Master says, his mouth set in a grim line. He has, Ahsoka knows, something of a reputation with the Healers for being obstinate, with most of the Order, as a matter of fact. She wants to ask what he did to get kicked out, but decides it's probably smart to let it go. It's the best chance her Master has at doing the same.
Ahsoka leaves for a while, after fruitlessly trying to convince her Master that he'd be more help to Obi-Wan if he were showered and rested. Anakin had just grunted noncommittally at her. Ahsoka knows it's not her place to push the issue. She doubts Anakin would listen even if Master Windu told him to do something. She's not entirely sure why, has only just begun to put bits and pieces of her Master's background together in her mind to form a cohesive picture, but she does know that Anakin Skywalker has a serious issue with authority.
The Healers' Ward is much less crowded now; she assumes Master Kenobi is resting peacefully. Dimmed lights cast a peaceful, artificial glow over the hallway, and Ahsoka realizes suddenly that her Master is nowhere to be found. He wouldn't have left, she decides. An army of Jedi couldn't have pulled him away from Master Obi-Wan's side.
Sure enough, she finds him moments later, inside the room earmarked for Obi-Wan. The door is open a bit, and Ahsoka makes to walk in and join them proper. She stops short outside, hovering on the other side of the door frame. Master Anakin sides astride of Obi-Wan's hospital bed, head bowed, hands clasped around Obi-Wan's, significantly frailer. Even from a distance, Ahsoka can see the simultaneous rise and fall of their chests - some sort of dual meditation, perhaps.
They look so ... intimate. Ahsoka is reminded of watching her Master and Master's Master practicing katas together. Perfectly in sync, completely at ease with one another; it's as if the universe contains only the two of them. She strains to hear what is being said, ashamed to be eavesdropping, but too caught up in the moment - their moment, not hers - to interrupt or simply walk away.
Obi-Wan speaks first, softly, chidingly. "That's very nice, Anakin. Thank you."
Anakin's head bobs slightly. He radiates pleasure, satisfaction, though it's laced with frustration and his usual anger. "They wouldn't let me help," he says, and his voice is slightly louder and quite a bit less happy. "They think I'm a fool. They think I can't heal my own Master."
"Ssshh," Obi-Wan says, and appears to wince. Anakin quiets and apologizes. He lays his head in his Master's lap, and sighs as thin, nimble fingers gently tug and toy with his unruly curls. Ahsoka realizes she's been holding her breath and puts a hand in front of her mouth, letting it out slowly.
"... don't know what I would have done ... you're everything, Master." Her Master's words are muffled slightly, but plaintive. She knows she will never have the opportunity to hear him speak so honestly ever again. "You're the only reason I'm still a Jedi," he whispers.
Obi-Wan makes an admonishing sound. "You've a Padawan of your own, now," he says, and it's meant to be comforting.
Anakin's smile is rueful, sad. "She's bright and scrappy. She'd do well with anybody."
"It's the will of the Force, my former Padawan." Obi-Wan's voice is somewhat stronger now, the tenor firm. He's the Negotiator anew.
Anakin's response is swift, terse. "It's the will of the Council," he says, and there's a sense of finality to it. Vaguely upset, Ahsoka decides to leave, when Obi-Wan's hand reaches out to squeeze her Master's shoulder. It beckons him to wait, and Ahsoka obeys, as well.
"She is ... yours, because you've formed a bond with her." Obi-Wan's voice is still strained, and Ahsoka is pretty sure her Master would be in trouble if the Healers knew he was encouraging him to talk so much. "Just as you are mine because ... my bond is with you."
Anakin's eyes look glassy. "I love you, Master," he says plainly. He leans in, caresses Obi-Wan's jaw, and then kisses the spot where his fingers have just brushed. "Nobody will take you from me again, Obi-Wan," he says, between dotting the other man's face with kisses. "Never. I will kill anybody who tries."
"Oh, Anakin," Obi-Wan whispers.
Ahsoka leaves them in peace. She doesn't go to her room right away, instead heading to the Room of a Thousand Fountains. It's one of her favorite parts of the Temple; she's always had a remarkably easy time losing herself in meditations here. She needs that more than anything, right now.
The noise from the numerous waterfalls dims as she falls into a meditative trance, legs crossed beneath her, arms slack. She sees them in her mind, in the Force: Her Master kissing Obi-Wan, touching him, telling him that he's the only reason he stays with the Order. Someday, Ahsoka realizes, he might make that choice; someday, when the Clone Wars are over and the Jedi have no absolute, pressing need for a show-boating Hero of the Republic, he might be gone, off to pursue his own selfish interests.
He won't ever be a civilian, Ahsoka decides. Even without a lightsaber, her Master is crazy powerful. At the very least, he'd grow bored with being 'normal'. Even selfish is a stretch. Ahsoka recalls something her Master promised her after they'd saved her people from Separatist oppression on Shili: "Someday, Snips, we'll stop all slavery across the galaxy. Just you and me."
"Just you and me," Ahsoka repeats to herself. Through the Force, she sees her Master, as clear as she had through her vantage point outside of Master Kenobi's room, pressing a kiss to the crown of Obi-Wan's head. His voice echoes dully in her mind: 'I love you, Master. Someday, Snips.'
"I love you, too, Master," Ahsoka says softly, and the chain of beads that make up her Padawan braid feel heavier than usual. She bows her head. "Someday."