While licking wounds was a part of the job when it came to working with Hutts, going without answers did not.
And as Atonas and Matham gathered what was left of themselves, they'd left the alleyway, having enough of whatever had transpired with the Hail daughter. Atonas had been barely able to say his own name much less do anything else, and by the time he'd practically dragged Matham from their sandy mishap, every part of his body screamed with both confusion and raging pain.
He was not sure what had happened. He could hardly remember anything. But, what the Twi'lek lackey did know, was that he was never uninformed for very long.
Sonika sat pensively, eyeing Obi-Wan from across the table as the suns began to paint morning light into the sky outside her kitchen window. Ragged, dark circles had formed under her eyes, no doubt from a mixture of exhaustion and worry, and she'd changed into comfortable clothes from her daily ones the night before.
"I still think we should bring this to the authorities," she said quietly.
Obi-Wan sighed and ran his hands down his face – given a week, he could not begin to number the reasons why that was not a good idea. Beyond exhaustion himself, he had forgotten the hard lump in his gut until it quavered and reminded him of its presence. Folding his hands on the table, he looked at her squarely, then caught sight of the man behind her across the kitchen.
He sighed heavily. "There is really only one thing we can do," he pushed back his chair, which scraped crudely across the floor, and rose, "and that is talk with Maridian, to see if she can remember anything. Otherwise, there is no use in approaching the authorities."
Which was more or less true. Obi-Wan had been a part of the authorities of the Republic for most of his adult life, and he knew that given the surrounding evidence of the scene, a case could easily be made. He hated keeping the knowledge from them, but knew it was best. This was, after all, a Jedi matter.
Or, what once would constitute as one.
I've waited too long, he mused quietly, I knew this would happen and I procrastinated. This is entirely on my head.
He left the kitchen after that, and paused before the entry into the living area to find an exhausted Henna asleep on the sofa. She was wrapped in a blanket, arm supporting her head, and breathing deeply. Obi-Wan tenderly pressed the force and found her peacefully sleeping in rest, and decided not to press further. Instead, he made his way to the room where Maridian was still unconscious, and entered quietly.
He meandered towards the bed quietly, and sunk into the chair that Sonika had dragged into the room from the kitchen. He let his bones sag into the furniture has he numbly considered this woman laying before him – this woman, who had entirely upturned his life. In one simple day she had uprooted him entirely and changed every plan he had made with Bail Organa and Yoda about this exile.
Well, perhaps not a day. He'd fed this as the weeks had turned into a month, and teased her satiating with vague answers and mystery. Hadn't he himself told her that he was an enigma; admitted it to her face? Though, in his own defense, he was rather raggedly not himself, and entirely vulnerable – at least, emotionally. He hadn't expected to come to Tatooine and get his emotions befuddled and ruffled by a desert woman and her family. He certainly hadn't bargained for that same woman to also be force-sensitive.
It was baffling to him that one woman could inflict such…chaos. In the solitude of his life as a Jedi he had been happy and complete, never lacking and on the verge of brashly confident. As a Jedi he had been reputable and praised; honored and trusted. But as a man? What type of man was he – a laborer who passed poorly as a friend, and an even worse neighbor? For just a second, it seemed, he'd dropped his guard to regain whatever trust in humanity that he'd lost at the hands of the Empire, in a vain attempt to stable his life, and ironically it had landed in the hands of a force-sensitive woman that he was wildly attracted to in all the wrong ways.
How and what had life gone so terribly wrong? He sat forward, propping his elbows on his thighs and ran his fingers through his hair. Obi-Wan puffed out an excessive breath and stared at the floor, considering the mess he had found himself in. So much for being a man of passivity, he thought.
"You look about how I feel."
His head snapped up. In his absent-mind from the present, he didn't hear the rustling of the sheets on the bed, or the fact that she'd stirred awake. Her labored breathing had steadied somewhat into a soft croak. He remembered the wounds he'd attempted to heal through the force – cracked ribs, bruised pelvis, intense bruising of the musculature of her side. Never mind the trauma that would perhaps come when her head leveled and she was clear of thought.
He gave her a lopsided grin and moped his unkempt hair from his face with his arm, "I'm afraid it's the other way around."
She gave him a soft smile. "You're a little late on the whole rescuing bid, huh?"
He chuckled lightly at her humor. "I'll remember next time."
She lifted her hand and rested it palm-up beside her on the bed, and he hesitated briefly before taking it in his own. She sighed deeply, staring at the ceiling, before shifting her eyes to look at him carefully.
"My sister is with you, isn't she?"
He didn't have to say anything, but he did. "She is."
"And my father knows?"
His throat suddenly clamped shut, but somehow managed words. "Unfortunately so."
At this he expected a regretful moan, but instead got a snort. "There goes any traveling rights I thought I may have possessed. He's never going to let me out of his sight." She gave him a hazy look, "Sonika is all right?"
"She is shaken up, but she will be fine." Obi-Wan situated himself in the chair and looked down to his booted feet, hand still tenderly in his own. A burning sense of responsibility lodged itself in his chest and reminded him with every breath of his duty. Years ago he would have never struggled with this – but he did, now.
"Maridian, I –"
"-it's okay, Ben. You don't have to feel responsible."
He blinked and snapped his head up to look at her. Did he feel responsible for this, truly? Was it even his burden to carry? These people he had never bargained for as he'd come to Tatooine, but fate had somehow shuffled them into his deck. The Jedi in him craved the responsibility of these people, but was he even a Jedi anymore with his compromised emotions and exile? He was so uncertain in these uncertain times.
Sure of the force be, Obi-Wan, he reminded himself of Yoda's words so many years before, Do not doubt. The force is, and it will be. The force, the way of the Jedi is. And a Jedi are you not?
Yes. He was a Jedi, down to his very core. He did not know how to be anything else. It flowed through him like the very blood that held his DNA; the very force that made him who he was. He was a Jedi without excuse – and he would not deny it any longer, Empire or not.
"Maridian," he said softly, drawing her back to look at him, "something has happened, hasn't it? You've been wanting to tell me something for a great deal of time that you have not, haven't you?"
At this, her hand suddenly went cold in his own, and he could not betray the tears that welled in her eyes as rising fear and trepidation sunk into the piercing blue depths that he had known so frequently. Suddenly the force became cloudy and cold round her, as if desperately trying to be both hidden and discovered all at once. Even as her hand rested in his carefully, he could feel her pulse begin to quicken, as her breathing became labored and uneasy with the strain of uncertain sorrow.
She nodded, looking away into the space of far off serenity and hopeful answers that he knew she would not find. He waited patiently for her courageous return, as he knew it would be courageous – he had never known her to be anything but that, even in her uncertain skepticism of him. The force around her had been strong and brave from the moment he had discovered her. He did not doubt that it would be, now.
"You did see," she whispered shakily, sucking in a sharp breath. The corners of her eyes squinted with pain as she struggled to steady her breathing, pain shooting through the force. When she opened her eyes, she leveled them at him: they were painful and discovered, in agony. "You did see that night at the door, didn't you?"
For what felt like a long moment, he said nothing, until he nodded. "Yes. I did see."
She nodded in confirmation and sniffled profusely, sucking in sharp and uneven breaths as she laid on the bed. Her spirit was broken and compromised now – not all force-sensitive's were thrilled upon discovery, as he'd seen from experience. But very rarely were they in agony and trepidation as this woman was. Obi-Wan felt utterly and completely helpless as her now trembling form rested before him, and the moment seized every speck of air that he could force into his lungs. His blood was racing hot and also steadily cold all at once in his body.
"I…I've been different my entire life," she whispered quietly, looking away. She draped her other arm over her forehead and fluttered her eyes closed, taking in slow inhales of air through the nose.
He rubbed his beard in contemplation, then squeezed her hand reassuringly. "Does anyone else know about this, Maridian?"
She looked back at him and nodded, fluttering her eyes closed again. On an exhale she replied, "Yes. My father."
Of course he had known, Obi-Wan reasoned. He'd raised her since birth – parents usually were aware of their children's capabilities when they were very young. He himself had been only six months when he had been active in the force, so he assumed Maridian was no older than that when her father had known. But, on Tatooine, with no way to bring her to Coruscant, how was a man to know what to do? He'd simply raised his daughter throughout the years, perhaps hoping that someday a Jedi would come and take her away; praying that another did not.
The air in the room suddenly was heavy and thick, like a blanket wet with rain. He could feel the tension travel into his chest and thicken the walls of his heart, until it threatened to explode in his very chest. The organ beat in a pace unheard of and which was probably unhealthy, but he could in no way think of a way to slow it. He was having all he could do to breathe steadily and be the pillar of steady strength and comfort that this woman needed.
He finally replied to her, softly, almost in a breath. "I can help you, Maridian," this drew her eyes back to his, and he suddenly felt lost when she held his full attention and threatened to undo every known thing about himself that he knew, "I have seen this before, and I know how to help you."
Her brow wrinkled. "How do you -?"
He sighed, taking her hand in both of his, patting it sympathetically. "I…I also have this ability," he said quietly, letting his eyes fall away from her intense and confused stare. He held the thought in the air momentarily, before returning to it.
"…Maridian, you are have abilities that come from the force," he said in a whisper, then looked back at her. " You are 'force-sensitive'."
Her mouth had already dropped open moments before, eyes suddenly glazed with a sense of fleeting composure. Her body began to tremble profusely now, and her breathing began excessively haggard to the point that he was worried. Getting out of his chair, he situated himself on his knees beside her, and in an absent mind, he cupped his palm along her cheek.
At this she went rigid, staring at him as if he had just materialized. "Do not worry, Maridian. I will help you through this," he jutted his head slightly to the side to contemplate the fear in her eyes, and gave her a soft upturn of his lips. "I promise you, I will help you."
She opened her mouth to speak, but he waved a hand in front of her eyes briefly.
"But for now, you must rest. And rest easy."
And at the simple wave of a hand, her eyes closed and she found rest in the quiet peace of sleep.