He woke from the most restful sleep he could recall having since Qui-Gon had passed. He felt almost renewed, physically his body was ready for a taxing day of physical work at the temple; mentally, he was elevated to as brilliant plane of understanding, where he could smile before his eyes opened for the first time in a very long time. He stretched, expecting a warmth at his side, the same unaccustomed warmth that had woken him in the middle of the night as Siri had pressed into his side as she slept next to him. He let out a slow breath, recalling pleasant memories of wrapping an arm around her, haring her soft sighs as she had pressed a sleep-ridden kiss to his shoulder before her eyes closed again.

But now the bed next to him was cold, the small depression in the mattress where she had slept the only sign she had been there at all. He sighed, wishing they had been able to wake together; things had been strained between them, then friendly, then precipitous. But now…things could be perfect. But he also understood, feeling that small burn of guilt in his stomach that she must have had early morning business to attend to in the temple. He would reunite with her later, perhaps for dinner. They could talk about moving forward.

But now he had his own business to attend to, even though he blushed as she stood from the bed; realizing he had forgone his clothes, slipping into sleep after they had made love. He stepped into the shower quickly, though he wasn't sure who he thought might see him like this.


"Are you alright, Master?" Anakin's voice was tentative over his lunch, most of which had consisted of him swirling the contents of his soup bowl in slow circles. "You seem distracted."

"I am fine, Padawan." He wasn't eating his soup either; he felt bad snapping at him, but he was distracted. Siri had left on a mission with Adi Gallia that morning, according to the council, it was one that was unforeseen but essential to the investigation of an Outer Rim slave empire. He had felt uncomfortably guilty at the pang of loss that had hit him at the news. But he could never fault her for putting her responsibilities as a Jedi before speaking with him, there would be time to speak when she returned.

He looked up at Anakin, who was looking miserably down at his soup. The boy was having a hard time adjusting, and Obi-Wan realized that he might not be the most helpful. "I apologize, Anakin." His apprentice glanced up. "I am distracted; I'm not used to having someone be so perceptive." If the boy was surprised, he tried not to show it, but nodded to acknowledge him. "How was class?"

He started tentatively speaking of his assignments and actions, eventually turning into a pleasant chatter. Obi-Wan tried to focus on him, absorbing the information with a small smile to urge him on; but in truth he was still distracted. His mind on a night that would forever live in his memory, and a future that seemed to be so incredibly close.


"She has left." He could picture Adi Gallia saying the words to him days later in the doorway of their once shared room. But he hadn't believed her. She couldn't be gone.

The rest of the day had been a blur. He couldn't remember speaking more than five words to Anakin at dinner. And now, he laid in the bed they had shared less than a week before. His mind was at war with itself; half filled with memories of her, both old and new. The moment he had realized he loved her, followed by their shared confession of love. The feel of her bare skin on his, of kissing her deeply as he pressed her back into the bed, of her voice saying his name over and over again, of the immeasurable feelings that had burned between them. And the other half was angry. More angry than he had felt since he had seen Darth Maul fell his master. Angry at her for leaving, but more at himself for allowing this attachment to come to rest so strongly in his brain.

He stared at the ceiling, running his hands over his face, feeling the scratchiness of his beard starting to come in. He turned on his side, the bed feeling almost unbearably cold, horribly empty. He pressed his face into the pillow next to him, trying to force his emotions from his face. He was stronger than this. He was a Jedi Knight; it was just so hard to believe. How could she have left? Turned her back on the beliefs that had both shared so strongly? Beliefs that they had refused to betray, even it meant they couldn't be together? He felt his stomach turning, understanding now what true betrayal felt like.

But it was more than that. Buried under all of this rage, all of this anger about her departure, all of this self-targeted resentment was something far stronger. He could still feel the love for her, carried since he was seventeen; pressing against his heart, threatening to overwhelm him. Of all the things he was feeling, it was the strongest. It was the hardest. It was the worst.