A/N: Hello! Sorry about the delay; real life has been keeping both of us really busy over the past few weeks.
Just quick note/warning about this chapter: this chapter has descriptions of a character having trouble breathing. This happens in the first scene.
Enjoy!
His limbs felt heavy, as though his bones had been replaced by iron, dragging his body deeper and deeper into an inky pool of darkness. His every breath seemed too loud, a deafening roar in his ears.
Images entered his mind. Images of a time that he'd fought so hard to forget.
An inky darkness.
The terrible, smoky-red hand gripping him in place.
"Stay with me, Obi-Wan."
Spider-like threads of existence—a horrible pain puncturing his chest… the sensation of a needle sliding through his heart as it once more regained life.
"Life isn't done with you yet, apprentice."
Obi-Wan writhed, suddenly finding his hands free. The air was thinner, no longer burdened with the great weight of the Dark Side. His presence expanded, released from its cage.
He frantically reached out, instinctively searching for Anakin's bright center of light.
This was a dream… where—
It was much too loud—there were these strange muffled sounds surrounding him, a cacophony of noise muted as though originating from a distance.
It took him a moment to realize that the sounds were actually voices, coming from outside…outside wherever he was, it wasn't exactly clear.
Where am I?
Disorientation crashed down on him, causing his head to throb.
Why can't I remember anything?
And, of course, with that thought, his eyes opened to a shadow-filled haze of green and blue—shadows flitting beyond what seemed to be pale glass.
He was floating.
Obi-Wan blinked, trying to make sense of his surroundings.
Bacta? But that means—
Something's happened.
He tried to focus, tried to see what was happening outside of the bacta tank, but instead, the muffled voices got louder.
His head gave an almighty throb and he gritted his teeth on the rebreather, chin automatically tucking downward. Gasping, his heartbeat thundered in his ears, drowning out the drone of noise coming from the outside. His breathing hitched, becoming light and rapid.
Around him, the world was flashing, darkness intertwining with the bluish-green tint of the bacta, glowing in a way that Obi-Wan hadn't seen since…
But then, he reasoned, the light on Mortis had been different, darker, less harsh on the eyes—but heavy on the soul. The whole planet had been terrible, wonderous in the beginning… but deceptively evil.
He closed his eyes, the light reflecting red through his eyelids.
A memory pulled at his mind, and he shoved it away forcibly.
No. Not now.
Like a parasite, the pull grew, pressing upon his mind.
He was falling, or was the world rushing up to meet him? Around him the bacta seemed to swirl and writhe, dissolving into dark mist, reforming into an image.
First came the mountains, the jagged peaks and valleys, then the great chasms and pools of lava, then the fire, scorching and hot—the haze of yellow and the smoke…
A gasp filled the air, a last breath of a dying man.
Gray hair unkempt and falling about his face, his uniform darkening with blood, Tarkin seemed to hover above the ground, suspended by a clawed foot and two glowing blades.
Grievous laughed, his voice a terrible grating, rasping echo born from metal, flesh, and modulator.
With little care of the body he was holding, the cyborg General tossed the Captain's body aside roughly, treading on Tarkin's limbs as he continued forward. His face, marred, with glistening skin and metal, was thrown into harsh relief by the light of his lightsabers.
"Surrender; there is no escape." The mechanical hiss seemed to pierce the air, malice dripping from every word.
As the sound of battle filled the air, Grievous lunged, all four lightsabers raised. The night air, filled with embers and flickers of blaster fire, gave the cyborg the appearance of a true monster.
Obi-Wan hissed, teeth bared, willing himself to feel calm, but the images kept pouring into his brain, overriding his sight and hearing.
He remembered the fight, the darkness, the treacherous rock-terrain on which they'd fought, and the perpetual night that so frequently robbed them of any advantage.
Then had come the short-range missiles, fired by Grievous's forces. Echoes of their concussive blasts still rang in his ears, the image of airborne debris fresh even now.
He hadn't forgotten the feeling of being blasted backwards, the Force offering little to no protection on such short notice, the impact of his body on sand, and the jarring sensation of white-hot pain on his skin from the fiery planet's surface.
Breathe, Kenobi.
The hiss of the respirator filled his ears, but even it could not blot out the sound of rock thudding to the ground, the sizzle of lightsaber on rock as he fought to move faster than the cyborg General.
He remembered it all, right down to the very last moments where—Plo lying sprawled across the dark stone, trapped by droids, blaster barrels leveled as his body. And Piell, lightsaberless, facing down the General bare-handed and far out of any other help's way.
Obi-Wan remembered his choice, the moment when he'd thrown himself in front of the Kel Dor Master and watched the General plunge his clawed foot into Master Piell's chest.
The dance continued.
Then had come pain.
A moment's hesitation had nearly cost Obi-Wan his legs.
But the choice he'd made ultimately had cost Evan Piell's life.
Obi-Wan opened his eyes once more, feeling shame welling its way through him, eating at his chest. Gradually, his breathing slowed.
Sleep enveloped him once more, and yet the dreams seemed as vivid as day.
"The Master without an apprentice, how touching that you should come to my father's defense—let him die."
He was running, the ground blurring beneath him, the air frigid and uncomfortable. Behind him, he could feel a monster… a whirlpool of darkness.
Disembodied whispers filled his ears.
'Join us.'
'Join me.'
Caught in the memory, he spun, raising his lightsabers—green?
He blinked in confusion, his eyes flitting down to the foreign blades in his hands. Then a blue blade slammed into his own, jarring his whole body with the force of contact. His body shook with the effort it took to resist, shoving back against his attacker.
Obi-Wan struggled to look up. He knew who it was he was fighting. He knew the lightsaber that was forcing its way closer and closer to his heart more than he knew his own, and yet he wanted to see his attacker's face for himself. He wanted to see Anakin one last time—but he couldn't, it was as though his body had frozen in place, seemingly petrified by some unseen force.
"Master—Obi-Wan… help me… please..." A desperate whisper met Obi-Wan's ears, causing his heart to freeze.
He still could not move, his body locked in place. Frustration burst from his lips in the form of a hoarse cry.
"I can't help you," he yelled into the night, his voice cracking, pushing back against the great weight that bore down upon his body.
A laugh echoed, deep and terribly familiar, followed by a scream that tore through Obi-Wan's heart.
He choked,"I've failed you. I'm sorry, Anakin—I'm so sorry…"
The cry abruptly cut off, silenced. Something ominous and red dripped onto the ground nearby, pulling at Obi-Wan's attention.
And then the world righted itself.
The faint blue hue of Mortis's lower atmosphere melded into darkness.
Then, everything faded away.
The next time he woke up, he was no longer in the bacta tank.
Obi-Wan blinked up at the familiar white ceiling of the Jedi Temple's Halls of Healing. He had no idea how he ended up here—the last he remembered was falling, crashing into the darkness when he got to his quarters on the Negotiator.
Everything was just—fuzzy. His head felt especially heavy, probably from being in bacta for so long. He couldn't think at all; it was as though his thoughts were flowing in and out too quickly for him to make sense of them.
He vaguely remembered dreaming, but with every passing second, the images were falling away from his memory. The only aspect of the dream, or dreams for that matter, that remained clearly in his mind were the intense emotions… and even they were already beginning to fade.
He shook himself.
"Master Kenobi."
Letting out a quiet groan, Obi-Wan turned his head toward the voice.
Master Vokara Che sat next to him, smiling gently. The sight was so strange that Obi-Wan dimly wondered if this was a dream of some sort. In all the time he'd spent in the Halls, he had never woken up to the sight of the Master Healer sitting right at his bedside.
Something was…different.
"What happened?" Obi-Wan rasped, and the Healer tsked, reaching over to the water dispenser to fill a cup of water.
She handed the cup over to him. "Drink slowly."
Obi-Wan did as she requested, and he looked down at his legs, as though he just noticed them for the first time. Both legs were still wrapped, just like they were on the Negotiator, but his right ankle was also casted with a protective material.
"You, Master Plo, and Padawan Tano arrived at the Temple about two days ago. Master Plo and Padawan Tano are both alright—we treated them, and they were released not long after they arrived. Their injuries were not severe," Master Che explained.
Obi-Wan nodded slowly, and his vision swam. "I'm glad," he murmured, though he felt almost the exact opposite. He felt cold and tired, as though everything inside of him had been completely scraped out, leaving him hollow.
Empty.
Two days had passed since his return to the Temple, and he'd been unconscious for longer than that? The realization was harsh, but maybe it was better if he didn't know what had happened over the past few days.
Two days. Force, help me.
Ahsoka could have already made her decision, and he wasn't quite ready to face his Grandpadawan finally walking away from him.
She deserved so much better than him, after all.
As though Master Che sensed his anxiety, the Twi'lek Healer placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.
"As I'm sure you're aware, the cuts on your legs have damaged both muscle and nerve. Some of it has healed while you were in the bacta tank, but the rest of the damage will need to heal naturally," she explained.
Obi-Wan let out a quiet exhale. "I understand," he replied. He'd gone through this before, after Geonosis, only this time, everything was much, much worse.
This is more like after… after Naboo…
"You also had a very unstable ankle fracture," Master Che continued. "I had to stabilize it surgically."
At that point, the Healer's eyes narrowed. "Master Plo and your medic have both told me what you have done before arriving here. Under no circumstances are you allowed to leave from these Halls until I say so, Master Kenobi. Is that understood?"
"Of course," Obi-Wan replied, smiling guilelessly. He was fairly sure that he wouldn't be able to make it out of the room on his own, anyways—not in his current situation, at any rate.
The Twi'lek Healer raised her brows, clearly unimpressed, before she continued.
"I don't intend on going anywhere," he insisted. Leaving meant that he would have to face his failures, and he would much rather not do that right now.
Master Che placed a hand on his shoulder and smiled gently. "Take some time to center yourself and to rest. The Council and the war can wait," she assured him.
Before he could reply, a sharp knock echoed through the room.
Lifting his head slightly from the bed, Obi-Wan watched as Master Che walked towards the room's entrance, face twisting into a scowl.
Obi-Wan let out a sigh, allowing his head to flop back onto the pillow. He could barely hear Master Che speaking to someone standing outside of the room, but it was much too difficult to focus on anything in particular.
Closing his eyes, Obi-Wan allowed himself to drift until Master Che walked back in, frowning slightly.
"Master Krell would like to speak to you. He says it's urgent," she explained, voice soft and intense.
"Urgent?" Obi-Wan blinked and frowned. He had never spoken to the Besalisk in private before—why would Krell need to speak to him now? What could possibly be so urgent that—
Ahsoka.
Master Che opened her mouth to reply, but Obi-Wan was already nodding. "Well, if it's urgent, I see no better way to pass my time," Obi-Wan replied, though a part of him felt completely drained, which made little sense since he was unconscious for at least the past two days.
Master Che paused, frown deepening before she nodded, turning back to the door.
When Master Krell walked in a few moments later, face split into a wide grin, Obi-Wan felt the Force shift, almost imperceptibly. Something about Krell seemed different, but he couldn't say exactly what it was.
He feels wrong, poisonous…
"Master Kenobi," the Besalisk rumbled, moving right over to the stool next to Obi-Wan's bed and sitting down. His yellow eyes gleamed in the dim light of the room, and Obi-Wan resisted the urge to flinch, to shrink back at how Sith-like they were.
"Master Che said you needed to speak to me," Obi-Wan said, swallowing down the strange tightness in his throat. He wished he could shift away from the towering form next to his bed, but his legs felt numb and useless, as though they were foreign to his body.
"I do," Krell replied, and he grinned again, sending ice into Obi-Wan's veins. "I am going to take over Padawan Tano's training, effective immediately."
Obi-Wan swallowed, shaking his head and resisting the urge to shudder. He forced himself to breathe, to appear as calm as possible.
Of course, that didn't stop the tightness he felt in his chest, or the way his throat constricted so that he could hardly breathe.
"She—she chose you?" Obi-Wan croaked after a few long moments, finally looking up at Krell's eyes.
Krell barked out a laugh. "The Padawan may choose whoever she thinks would be right, but she is certainly in no position to make the final decision, especially so soon after the loss of her Master," he said, chuckling.
"But, the Council—"
"The Council does not understand Tano's intentions." Krell cut him off, leaning forward in his chair to look Obi-Wan directly in the eye. "And after everything that has happened with Skywalker, you should not be allowed to train a second Padawan. That much is obvious."
No, no this is wrong, so wrong
There was blood roaring in his ears, the strange tightness in his chest climbing up into his throat, but Obi-Wan nodded slowly, ignoring how his vision blurred as a strong wave of dizziness nearly overwhelmed him.
Anakin had only just died a few weeks ago, and Ahsoka didn't need a Master who struggled so terribly with grief and was unable to train her right away because he was still recovering from his injuries.
Ahsoka needed stability, someone who would set an example and guide her well, not someone who had already failed so horribly in all of those counts.
Never mind that, but Anakin had been his responsibility, and now…
He had already lost Qui-Gon all those years ago due to his own mistakes, and now Anakin. He couldn't afford to lose Ahsoka in the same way—just the idea of it was enough to send him spiralling back into the kind of thoughts he'd had right after Qui-Gon's death.
No, it would be better if she had someone else as a Master. Someone who wouldn't fail her as terribly as he had failed Anakin.
"Maybe not, but it is Ahsoka's decision," Obi-Wan said finally, voice hoarse and unconvincing, even to himself.
"She is not fit to decide!" Krell got to his feet, voice rising, and leaned over Obi-Wan's bed. The Besalik's hulking figure loomed over the bed, seeming to blot out everything until all that Obi-Wan could see was the Master's feral, menacing grin.
Obi-Wan flinched, feeling an intense rush of vertigo crash into him. The room swam, white walls, machinery, and sparse decor blending into one incoherent, gray mass; he blinked heavily, shaking his head.
Breathe.
A forced inhale, followed by an exhale.
Breathe, Kenobi.
"You are not fit to train Padawan Tano, let alone anyone else," Krell hissed, voice echoing oddly over the blood roaring in his ears, "not after everything you have done to Skywalker. You were never fit to train him in the first place!"
Obi-Wan attempted another inhale, trying to focus on breathing, as difficult as it was.
"And see what happened because of you?" Krell asked, slamming a hand on the bed, right next to Obi-Wan's shoulder. His presence in the Force was cold and terrible, unlike anything Obi-Wan had experienced before.
"I—"
"You must understand, Master Kenobi," Krell sneered, "that despite the fact that she is not fit to choose a Master right now, Padawan Tano still would never choose you, not after everything that you have done."
Anakin is dead because of me. Ahsoka wouldn't choose the one who condemned her Master to death—that much is obvious.
"You understand, I'm sure. The Council will be meeting later today, but I doubt that you will be able to attend with your… current situation," Master Krell sneered, smiling again, bowing in a painfully polite manner.
Folding his arms, the Besalisk made for the exit. "I will leave you to rest now, Kenobi."
Then he left the room, leaving Obi-Wan alone.
Air, I need air.
Swallowing, Obi-Wan shuddered, forcing in a breath through tightly clenched teeth. The room was getting more and more blurry for some reason, and the tightness in his chest was still present, potent and terrible.
Calm. Force, I need to get it together. Come on, Kenobi.
Blood was roaring in his ears, and Obi-Wan felt himself shaking, trembling, struggling to get air into his lungs. There was some loud, persistent beeping sound, barely discernible over the ringing in his ears.
Too much—this is all too much.
He blinked, then there were hands grabbing at his arms, and voices, garbled and unrecognizable, filtering into his ears. The Force shuddered as he struggled to take in more breaths.
What is happening?
Then, Master Che's face filled his vision, her eyes bright and concerned. Her mouth opened, but he couldn't hear what she was saying over the ringing in his ears.
The loud beeping grew louder and more frantic, and he shuddered, opening his mouth for air, only to find himself unable to take it in. It was as though something had completely closed his throat off, and there was nothing else he could do to get air into his lungs.
His body spasmed, his spine arching upwards-
There was a loud shout, followed by what felt like several pairs of hands pressing down upon his shoulders. A strange fuzzy feeling washed over him and everything blurred to the point of complete unrecognition—he blinked slowly.
"You are in desperate need of proper rest, Obi-Wan." The voice was quiet and commanding, somehow breaking through the blurriness and confusion. "Now rest."
For a moment, he tried to resist, but his eyes slipped closed, and Obi-Wan felt the world—with all of its pain and confusion and desperation—to slip into blessed darkness.
Around her, the Council Chambers were colder than usual when Ahsoka entered, her body rigid with tension. She desperately wanted to fidget, to somehow be able to express how nervous she really was. But this was the Council.
The Force whispered ominously, warning her that something bad was coming. A chill ran down her spine, and she let out a slow breath, resisting the urge to shiver. Every nerve in her body was screaming that something vital had changed; it was a feeling only amplified by the stony faces looking back at her.
Slowly scanning the room, Ahsoka noted that there seemed to be a rather large number of Councilors present. In front of her, Masters Yoda, Windu, and Mundi practically glowered, arms folded across their chests. To her left, Master Tiin stared out at the Coruscant skyline, seemingly undisturbed by the rather tense atmosphere. Masters Gallia and Koth were also present, along with, most surprisingly, Master Shaak Ti. Only Master Kcaj was there via hologram.
It was intimidating to see so many faces looking back at her.
Ahsoka felt as though a great weight had dropped into the pit of her stomach. Two ominous Council seats remained empty. But it wasn't the chair sitting beside Master Mundi's that gave her grief.
Exhaling softly, she turned back to face Master Yoda, briefly making eye contact with Master Windu as she went. Without meaning to, Ahsoka looked away.
Get it together, Ahsoka.
"Begin, we will, when Master Krell arrives." Master Yoda's voice broke into Ahsoka's thoughts.
Even as her blood froze, she nodded, replying, "yes, Master."
Krell. Master Krell. Her mind immediately jumped back to his terrible smile and the way that the Besalisk Master's Force signature had filled the air with smug pleasure.
Had she been right? Had she been too late?
Insecurities began creeping up into her mind, feeding her fears. She forced them down and away. Despite her efforts, the poisonous thoughts persisted.
Closing her eyes, Ahsoka let her chin drop a fraction of an inch.
Everything was going to be okay. She'd talked to Master Windu and told him what she was going to do, what she truly wanted…
A memory played about in her mind, gradually slinking its way across her vision. Her breathing hitched.
It's going to be fine, it'll all be fine, just fine…
Anakin was approaching her, his presence reeking of anger and despair, his mind corrupted and poisoned by the Son. Ahsoka's own fear was growing, a deep pain stabbing her heart as she realized what had become of her Grandmaster—
"Padawan Tano, is everything alright?"
Wide-eyed, Ahsoka's looked up to meet Master Windu's piercing gaze.
Calm. Calm yourself, Ahsoka.
Everything will be alright.
"Yes, Master."
No.
Around her, the Force shifted. Ahsoka tightened her grip on her mental shields, withdrawing into the smallest corner of her mind.
The temperature in the room suddenly dropped. Around her, tension practically hummed from the Masters.
I'm not alright. But I must be strong.
The large form of Master Pong Krell entered, his four arms swinging loosely at his side. With each step, Ahsoka felt the smug pride of the Jedi growing in the Force, his amber eyes tracing the room, taking in the large attendance of Masters.
"Masters." He was a matter of feet away from her now, bowing to Master Yoda, his many arms clasped behind his back.
The Besalisk nodded to Ahsoka, a smile slowly creeping up his lips.
"Ready to begin, we are." Master Yoda said, looking up at Master Windu. The other Jedi nodded.
"Master Plo should be with us rather shortly; he is briefed on the situation."
Suddenly Ahsoka felt alone, as if she and Master Krell had been marooned on an island, isolated from the other Jedi. She clasped her hands in front of her, the urge to fidget almost consuming her. More than anything, she wanted Master Plo to be there. She missed Anakin's presence, his powerful sense of authority, which so often contrasted with Obi-Wan's own calm.
Obi-Wan… she'd made a choice.
The Besalisk Master cleared his throat before folding his arms, facing Master Yoda.
"Heard, we have, of your request concerning Padawan Tano." The old Master nodded at Master Krell. "Acknowledge the right you have to train her, we do. However, a request of her own, Padawan Tano has; know this, you must."
"With all due respect, Master Yoda, I believe that I could not only serve Padawan Tano as a Master, but also as a guide through this…"
Krell looked down at Ahsoka, eyes glinting.
"This dark time."
Ahsoka fought to keep her breathing even, feeling frustration ignite her insides. The Force swirled ominously around the Besalisk, his smug demeanor weathering at her patience.
Master Windu leaned forwards, his face solemn, and exchanged glances with Master Mundi.
The Cerean cleared his throat softly. "If I may, Master Krell, Padawan Tano has requested to train with Master Obi-Wan Kenobi. I assure you, he is more than capable of completing her training. Not only that, but Master Kenobi is a part of her lineage. That should make him a likely choice in this situation."
Ahsoka let out a slight breath, finding herself nodding to the Jedi Master.
A smugness seemed to ooze from Master Krell.
"I have the utmost respect for Master Kenobi," the Besalisk replied, "but I do not see him among you. Why is that?"
Mace Windu narrowed his eyes, but he said nothing. Beside the Korun Jedi Master, Saesee Tiin brought a hand to chin, pondering something with a faraway look in his eyes.
"Master Kenobi is currently recovering from his last mission. These past few weeks have been rather grueling for him and for Padawan Tano," said Master Gallia, causing Ahsoka to turn and face her.
"Ah, I wish him a swift recovery." Despite his words, Krell's tone did not change.
He knew, Krell knew that Obi-Wan would be absent. I can feel it… he's planning something.
The Besalisk let out a sigh, arms folded tightly across his chest, his eyes locking with Master Windu's.
"The Temple heard of the loss of Knight Skywalker, a secret that the Council did not deem necessary to alert the general public about; yet the questions of how and why have yet to be answered."
Ahsoka clenched her fists and fought back the wave of frustration that washed over her senses.
Krell glanced at her, his slimy presence sliding up against hers. "But it matters not at this moment, does it?"
Ahsoka shifted, feeling the confusion of the other Masters spilling out into the Force.
"I feel it's necessary to separate the lineage here, with Padawan Tano. I sense a deep disturbance in the Force. Master Kenobi has just lost his apprentice, a notoriously rebellious Jedi that we—" Krell gestured at the Masters seated around him, "—have…no, that we had all foreseen to eventually fall into the darkness."
Silence filled the air.
"To make things short, I will say this."
The Besalisk Master swung an arm towards Ahsoka, his finger pointed directly at her chest. "Allowing Kenobi to be her Master will be our downfall."
There was a silence. Ahsoka's heart seemed to have stopped working properly, her body numb.
What?
Now that she hadn't expected. She narrowed her eyes, fighting to keep her expression neutral.
"With all due respect, Master, I do not believe that—" Ahsoka began, but she was quickly cut off.
"—Masters, I have always supported your decisions when it comes to pairing a Master and an apprentice, but surely you must see that it's unwise for Padawan Tano to remain within her current lineage. There are other Jedi within the Order who have come to see that Kenobi is not succeeding in his line."
What? For a second time, Ahsoka couldn't believe what she was hearing. Krell was outright attacking Obi-Wan—to the Council, of all people.
Master Kenobi may seem to be the perfect Jedi to me, but he must have his critics… "Enlighten us, please, with an explanation." Master Tiin sounded mildly frustrated; while his face remained impassive, his eyes burned with fire.
"Yes, let us hear it." Master Gallia narrowed her eyes, leaning forward in her seat.
Krell smiled again, causing a pit to form in Ahsoka's stomach. She shuddered, curling into herself slightly.
"We all know the curse of Kenobi's lineage," Krell began. "Some may call it superstition, I call it a curse because of what it has brought down upon the Jedi Order and the Republic."
Krell fixed an unblinking stare on Master Gallia, slowly moving his gaze about the room as he spoke. "Former-Jedi Master, now Count Dooku."
Krell's words echoed through the Chambers, nearly causing an immediate uproar in the Force.
Ahsoka's heart sank, the Besalisk's words tugging on a thread of fear that she didn't even know she had.
"Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn."
She knew whose name was coming next, dreading its utterance, the final confirmation of a loss that she had worked so hard to push away—
"Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker."
Krell's gaze fixed on Master Windu.
"Do you not recognize the now-frequent tragedy of loss in this lineage? Five Jedi, including Master Yoda himself, have come from Kenobi's line; we have lost three. One to the Force, one to the Dark Side, and another who is arguably just as responsible for the millions lost over the past few years."
Nearby, Master Gallia seemed as though she were about to offer a rebuke, but Krell plowed onward before she could even open her mouth.
The Besalisk's voice rose. "If not for Skywalker and Kenobi, we would not have so many Padawans' tombs. The Jedi Order is suffering because of them. Skywalker was a product of his training, as I am sure you are all aware, and I believe that it is essential that this lineage ends because of Master Kenobi's actions."
Krell jabbed a finger at the ground and stepped forward. "It matters not that Master Kenobi sits among you; he has the right to have a voice as both a Jedi and as a Master. The Council decided as much, and I respect that decision—but let us not forget the war that got Kenobi his seat on this Council… or the reason that this conflict began in the first place."
Silence filled the room. Even Master Yoda seemed to have been silenced by the Besalisk Master's claims.
Across from Ahsoka, Master Mundi shifted, his expression hooded.
"Master Krell, while I recognize your opinions of Master Kenobi, note that he had little control over the outcome of the invasion of Geonosis. This Council—" the Cerean gestured at the rest of the seated Masters, "—ultimately made the choice to mobilize the Order and prepare a full attack on the planet. One could argue the same for the death of Master Jinn."
Ahsoka had stood before the Council on multiple occasions; however, she'd always had someone there to support her. When she'd been formally accepted as a Padawan, for one, she'd had Master Plo with her. For missions, she was usually with her Master… had been with her Master—the thought sent her mood down yet another notch. Now…this was different.
Now, it felt as though she were seated in the center of a battle, boxed in on all sides with chains holding her down. Grief settled in her heart as she watched Master Windu and Yoda exchange a look.
None of this would've happened if I had been faster, if I'd asked Obi-Wan to be my Master before we left for the Citadel.
A weight dropped into the pit of her stomach.
If he even wants me as an apprentice.
Something must've slipped into her presence because Master Gallia, seated closest to Ahsoka, brushed against her in the Force.
"Have courage, Padawan Tano. The Force will guide you."
Ahsoka slowly turned her head to face the Tholothian Master and nodded, sending gratitude through the Force.
In front of Ahsoka, the war still raged.
Pong Krell snorted softly, folding his arms. "And what have you to say about Skywalker? He's been a wild card since the beginning—no thanks to Kenobi's teachings, might I add. With respect, Masters, not every Jedi approves of Master Kenobi's actions, and even less held Knight Skywalker in high esteem.
Master Windu bowed his head slightly, and Ahsoka felt her blood freeze. For the most part, the Council had remained impassive, their expressions blank and posture neutral. But now, the Korun Master seemed to display some form of a reaction to Krell's words.
"I understand your concerns, Master Krell. You are correct when you stated that this Council held concerns regarding Knight Skywalker. Particularly during his early years in his apprenticeship, Skywalker had difficulty overcoming attachment, but this is not an uncommon problem that a Jedi must overcome. Both Masters Jinn and Kenobi faced this same challenge."
Krell nodded slowly, eyes narrowing. "It is a challenge that all Jedi must overcome. However, you misunderstand my point. Padawan Tano must be instructed with greater discipline and respect—which I'm sure Skywalker never even considered as a Padawan's Master."
The Besalisk Master shifted slightly, meeting the eyes of every Master surrounding him. His Force presence seemed to expand outward, meeting Ahsoka's shields with a definitive sense of coldness and cruelty.
Ahsoka's teeth chattered, and she shrank into herself even more, wishing she was far away from here.
"I would like to submit before the Council that neither Kenobi nor Skywalker could defeat this attachment themselves and have passed on this failing to Padawan Tano," Krell said, brows furrowed. "Twelve years ago, I watched Kenobi wallow about in his grief for days on end, his Padawan challenging his every word. I see that same exact grief now, eating him alive once again—and yet I fail to see him here at this Council meeting."
Krell spread his upper arms wide.
"Should he not be here? Should not the Grandmaster, the sole remaining member of her lineage other than Master Yoda himself, be present to a meeting of such weight? I am a respectful critic, and yet I wonder just how incapacitated Master Kenobi has become… I digress, so I will return to my point about attachment."
With that, the Besalisk's eyes slid to Ahsoka.
"I see the same with Padawan Tano, a mirror of Skywalker and Kenobi, which is unfortunate… a Jedi must be able to see things clearly with eyes unclouded by pain and death. If all one can see is the fellow grieving Master, then they—Master and Apprentice—will ever so slowly be dragged down until the darkness consumes them."
Ahsoka stared at Krell, mute. Her mind was humming but inside, she felt numb. She wanted her Master, Anakin. She could picture him, the way he'd have leaped into action, defending Obi-Wan's reputation before his own. He'd have helped her, defended her and his former-Master.
She squeezed herself, arms hugging her chest. Fatigue bit at her every muscle, dragging her down. More than anything else, she felt oppressed and alone.
"Hmm." Master Yoda hummed softly, drawing all eyes to him. "A critic, I was, to pairing young Skywalker with Master Kenobi, but strengths they have gained from one another. Know this, you do, Master Krell."
A low roar seemed to fill Ahsoka's ears, and she shifted slightly, a movement that Mace Windu noted. He leaned back in his seat.
"I think we've kept Padawan Tano here for long enough without giving her a chance to speak. Padawan, your voice will now be heard by this Council. Despite what we have discussed, it is your future that lies in question."
Nearby, Master Tiin nodded. "What do you wish to do, Padawan?"
Suddenly all eyes were on Ahsoka. A shiver went up her spine.
What did she want to do? Questions and hesitations bubbled up within her, traitorous thoughts that weren't her own.
She choked back a sob.
I want Anakin. Obi-Wan.
Please.
A faint whisper met her ears, the sound of running water, soft words from what felt like ages and ages ago—a voice that she suddenly realized she could put a name to.
'Have courage.'
Master Yoda's head jerked upwards at her, his eyes suddenly focused on Ahsoka's face with renewed intensity. He said nothing.
Ahsoka took a breath, closing her eyes. She no longer cared that the Council was watching, or that Krell was still staring down at her, his large frame looming far above her.
No more lies.
No more tricks.
I'm not on Mortis right now, and I have a chance to make things right again.
She stared into Mace Windu's eyes.
Even if I will destroy the galaxy, like Master Krell says.
"I want to train under Master Obi-Wan Kenobi."
Krell's lip curled.
A fire ignited within Ahsoka's core, and she felt strength filling her. The Force burst into bright existence, warming her insides and feeding energy into her soul.
What she was about to do could get her into serious trouble. It was going against the Council's code of respect, and certainly against what she'd been taught.
'Follow your instincts—the Force will guide you.'
Ahsoka faced Krell, her eyes staring directly into his, her arms held at her sides. It took all of her self control not to clench her fists.
"With respect, Master Krell, I cannot train under you."
The words seemed to tumble from Ahsoka's mouth as she said them, urged on by courage brought on by the Force.
"I can't." She repeated, feeling anger flare from Master Krell. "I can't explain it, but something feels wrong about this."
Master Yoda made a soft sound of agreement. "Sense it in the Force, do you?"
Ahsoka's heart thundered in her chest, and she could feel heat rising in her face. Krell was eyeing her, fire blazing in his eyes. Instead of shying away, she met that stare, narrowing her eyes slightly.
"Yes, Master. That is as much as I can explain, but…" She looked back at the Grandmaster. "I must trust in the Force."
A few murmurs could be heard around the room.
"I find it strange that both you and Master Krell have seen such different things in the Force," Master Windu commented. "Are you sure of what you experienced, Padawan?"
And with that, Ahsoka's heart sank like a rock.
It's my word against that of a Jedi Master. Force, help me, I can't win this.
Again she felt a familiar warmth surround her, a tendril of light that she couldn't explain.
"I'm positive, Master Windu." She fixed her gaze on him.
The urge to plead, collapse on the floor and cry was growing. No longer did she feel that she could trust her own legs to support her. The Force was all that was holding her together now, a pair of invisible hands holding her upright.
Ahsoka looked away, met Master Gallia's eyes, then faced Master Yoda.
The Force was humming now, her chest almost white-hot—
"Master, I know what the Force wills me to do. If I am destined to become the apprentice of Master Krell, then I cannot remain in the Order."
Despite all of her misgivings for saying such words to the Council, Ahsoka's voice rang out clearly with a strength that she did not feel on the inside.
Silence filled the room—one could almost hear a pin drop.
A dangerous fire burned within Krell's eyes, blazing into Ahsoka's. Krell's presence unexpectedly grated up against hers, causing Ahsoka to blink in surprise.
'You're playing a dangerous game, Padawan.'
Mace Windu exhaled slowly. "Very well, you are dismissed, Padawan Tano. Please stand by for any further instructions."
Bowing to the Council, Ahsoka left without a second glance. She could feel Master Krell's glare following her every move.
The moment the doors slid shut, however, a wave of fatigue washed over her and she staggered, using the nearest wall to hold herself upright. Somehow, she felt weaker than even the first few hours of consciousness after the Citadel.
I can't believe I just did that.
Dazed, she dragged herself back to her quarters and threw herself face-first onto the bed.
I just gambled my future on a whim.
Obi-Wan, please be alright…
Please…
…
…
I miss you, Anakin.
She'd barely closed her eyes before darkness swamped her vision, pulling her down into the depths of sleep.
A/N: Thank you so much for reading! We'll do our best to post the next chapter soon :)
See you then!