Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars or any of its associated characters; they all belong to their respective owners. I only own any characters or plotlines that you do not recognize.
Note: This chapter takes place during "Cargo of Doom," though it does not directly depict any of its events. It will follow what happened on Coruscanti side of the efforts to find Bane.
44. Abience
The aftermath of the Temple's infiltration weighed heavier than expected. For the communications center had not been the intended target. It had been the vault. It had been the kriffing vault, the one that Elara had squarely looked at. The one that she'd bypassed in favor of believing the easy explanation. The Jedi Order had, officially, terrifically, and horrifically duped. It felt like an insult. Like an affront on the Order and what they hailed themselves as. And the mastermind behind this shocking dupe, the man who had pulled it off––was none other than a bounty hunter known as Cad Bane. The formidable Cad Bane. The Duros man was hailed as the best bounty hunter across the known galaxy; he was renowned for getting the job done by any means necessary. And the incident at the Jedi Temple was a perfect example of that. For utilizing only a team of three––himself, a changeling, and a droid––he managed to slip in and out with startling ease. To make matters worse, Bane's next target was Bolla Ropal, a Jedi who had been charged with the keeping of the Kyber memory crystal. That crystal, paired with the holocron in his possession, would reveal the location of every known Force-sensitive child across the galaxy. Every child on that list was now in danger. Though, the Jedi did have one advantage––Bolla Ropal had been reported missing some time ago. That meant that Bane would have to first find him; and that meant that the Jedi, in turn, could find him. Needless to say, once the whole picture had been painted, plans were immediately put in place and enacted.
Ahsoka and Anakin were dispatched to the Devaron System in search of Ropal.
And Obi-Wan and Elara had been put in charge of attempting to locate Bane somewhere on Coruscant.
"I believe the lower levels are where we should begin," said Obi-Wan, tone diplomatically even.
Elara, who walked beside him, dipped her head into a nod. The two of them walked side-by-side, with a noticeable distance wedged between them. It had been a great relief to have gotten out of those vents; once they were no longer enclosed, the overwhelming wash of Obi-Wan's Force signature had waned. But in its place, an undeniable coldness had developed. A distance more than physical. It had arrived in the impassive look of his face as he turned and walked away. It lived in the squareness of his shoulders and the perfect levelness of his voice. The man walking beside her now was much more like the young man she'd met all those years ago, not the one she'd come to know.
"I agree. There's no better place on Coruscant for someone like him to hide," Elara reasoned.
The lower levels––better known as the Underworld––were renowned for their seediness. Cut off from all sunlight, the Underworld was illuminated by artificial lights, and often flickered with brightly colored electric signs. Toxic fumes made the air heavy and unpleasant. It was where the less fortunate were relegated to living, where crime slunk through dark allies to prey on the weak. Not everyone from the lower levels were cruel or bad; in fact, many were quite pleasant Elara had come to find. But it was, in a way, much like Tatooine. A place so rife with thuggish types, it had gained a certain reputation. So it was the perfect place to start searching for Bane. There were innumerable clubs and cantinas he could've holed up in. It was also entirely possible he even had a room in a boarding house somewhere.
There was an issue, however, with needing to search the Underworld.
"Therein lies a problem," Elara proceeded to point out. "There's simply too much ground for just the two of us to cover. It would take us months to comb every single level.
Obi-Wan hummed, a warm, low sound of consideration "What do you suggest, then?"
"We each assemble a small squad of troopers from the 442nd and the 212th to accompany us," she replied.
"Would that not be a risky play?" Obi-Wan posed. The word 'risky' made the corner of Elara's eye flinch. "There isn't a heavy clone trooper presence in the lower levels. Would it not seem suspicious if two Jedi appeared with a squadron of clones?"
Elara quirked an eyebrow and finally turned a glance on the man beside her. He walked with a strange, rigid grace. Every step smoothly flowed into the next, but there was a stiff tension in his body from the waist up. He seemed to notice that she'd turned her attention on him; for his head quirked in her direction, though his eyes remained dutifully forward.
"Two Jedi patrolling the lower levels is going to be suspicious enough. Even if we wrap ourselves up in our cloaks, we're going to stick out. That alone will tip off Bane if he's still on the planet. Bringing some of our men with us won't hurt."
This was when Obi-Wan's eyes darted to hers. He stared at her from under furrowed eyebrows, his expression pinched into something curious.
"You believe him to have fled?" he asked.
"I don't see why he'd stick around the scene of the crime; a smart thief would flee the planet immediately, especially given who they just stole from." Elara shrugged, turning her gaze forward again. "But I've been surprised by criminals before."
"Regardless, we must either confirm whether or not he is still on planet. A search will be required either way. Though I do concede on the matter of bringing troopers. It would be wise to have more than just us on the job," Obi-Wan said.
This, their attempt to hash out a feasible plan, felt more like a negotiation. Like they should be sitting on opposite sides of a table, discussing terms. It felt oddly formal, oddly lofty. This didn't feel right. And yet, Elara begrudgingly, silently pondered whether or not this is what should happen, for the time being at least. Their talk was inevitable––in fact, it seemed as though she could feel it bearing down on them. But until then, something had to be done. They could not afford to be distracted. For that was what Elara feared had just happened. That she had been so overwhelmed by their situation, by the feel of his presence in the Force, that she'd not picked up on the true intent of the intruder. That, in some way, this was true for Obi-Wan, too. It was remarkable, honestly, that he'd not picked up on it. In a strange way, it was hard not to feel somewhat responsible for what had happened. It was better, perhaps, to handle the strange negotiatory air between them than further hinder this investigation.
The pair began to descend the marvelous staircase in the Grand Hall, which still remained achingly empty. It left the padding of their feet to echo eerily around them. It had Elara wishing to speak in a murmur, as one would do in the Archives. And there was, still, a markedly distinct distance between them, wide enough that someone could pass between them comfortably. Only it wasn't comfortable. It was abnormal and strange and distressing. Everything about it had her wanting to close it that distance. Wrap her arms around Obi-Wan, hold him as close as was physically possible. To be drowned in his warmth and the hum of his energy, to be wholly consumed by the feeling of him and nothing but him. It was a feeling that wrecked her just as much as knowing that she couldn't. That this was how it needed to be, no matter how wrong it felt. It was suffocating. Absolutely suffocating.
"I suggest that, once we assemble our squadrons, we reconvene to discuss how we will go about tackling the Underworld. Who will take what levels," Obi-Wan suggested.
Elara felt her step falter at the proposal, struck with a realization. She came to a stricken pause, halting herself mid staircase. Obi-Wan continued to descend the steps, which had him leaving her behind.
"I thought we'd both remain on the same level," she said.
Obi-Wan then paused and twisted around, the soles of his boots whispering softly against the marble. A steady furrow started to pinch his eyebrows together; and then they stopped and one of them arched inquisitively. "The both of us searching the same level would be imprudent. We can cover more ground this way."
"Wouldn't it take more time? With you and I, and two squadrons of troopers, we could cover more ground more quickly. If you halve that effort and place it on two separate levels, it'll take more time," Elara pointed out. She started to close the distance between them, padding down the steps he'd managed to put between them. Obi-Wan's eyes followed her as she moved, and the closer she got, the tenser his expression became. When he spoke, the tone of his voice matched his face.
"We would be covering more ground."
"Not efficiently."
Elara had come to a stop one step above Obi-Wan. The energy that buzzed in the space between them now crackled with tension. It succeeded in its desperate bid to be acknowledged; only not in the way it wanted to. It developed a sizzling frustration, which popped and snapped hotly. And now they were taking that energy and utilizing it as a weapon against each other.
"It would be plenty efficient," Obi-Wan challenged. There was a clippedness to his tone, consonants snapping off his teeth wickedly.
A little huff of breath puffed between Elara's lips, which then twinged into the slightest of disbelieving smiles. "It would double our time. If Bane is still on planet––"
"Which you believe him not to be."
The interruption had Elara pursing her lips before, with a raised hand and closed eyes, she finished.
"If he's still on planet––which you believe him to be––it'll give him a chance to flee," she finished slowly, pointedly.
When her eyes opened, they locked with Obi-Wan's hotly. He stared up at her, head tilted slightly back, hands clenched at his sides. She stared him down, lips pursed, nostrils slightly flared. They stood closer than they had since exiting the vents. The air between them was charged. So charged that it felt like they'd be able to zap the other if they reached out and touched them. Nothing like this had ever developed before them before, not even in the contentious start of their friendship. This was an uncharacteristic, unnatural twist of the energy that usually moulded together so well. Now, instead of being beautifully harmonious, it was perfectly combative.
"You are remarkably stubborn," Obi-Wan snipped.
"And you're remarkably cocky," Elara shot back clippedly.
Obi-Wan's eyebrows jumped in a severe arc, launching towards his hairline. "Cocky?"
"Yes, cocky." Elara leaned forward some, which brought her to loom over him by several inches. The words burning forth to her tongue came without bidding without thought. "Ever since the day we met, there has been a cockiness about you." This was true. "Just because you didn't come up with a plan doesn't mean it's not clever. You're so dead-set on being the cleverest person in the room." This was not so true, but there was something satisfying in snipping back at him.
Just as they'd shot up before, Obi-Wan's brows came crashing down in a devastating furrow. His head stubbornly tilted back so me might meet her heated gaze better. His nose scrunched, nostrils flared, which resulted in his lips pulling into something distinctly, uncharacteristically spiteful.
"I am not the only one with faults, Elara; how many times must you be told that your stubbornness, your recklessness is going to get you killed? Has it ever occured to you that your recklessness doesn't put just yourself at risk?" he spat.
Their voices had raised, had started to echo in the emptiness of the Grand Hall. It was a good thing the Hall was empty. If it had been even sparsely populated, the scene on the staircase would have drawn quite a bit of attention. It would have been call for concern, given the two arguing parties. Because Obi-Wan and Elara never argued like this with anyone, let alone each other. They barely raised their voices, let alone allowed acidity to leak into their tones. At times they engaged in friendly debate, yes––but the key word there was friendly. This was not that. This was evidence of a breaking point. True, undeniable proof that something had snapped, something had changed. And given that both parties were silently determined to keep this disjointedness to themselves, they were very lucky no one was in the vicinity to hear them.
Elara's gaze bored into Obi-Wan's for a moment more, before she ripped it away. There was a magma-like heat roiling in her belly. One that promised more combative words, angrier ones that she surely wouldn't mean. The clippedness of their exchange was very much unlike them. Not even in the worst circumstances had either of them been so needlessly cruel to one another. It had all been born of a desperate need for release. To blow off steam in order to allow the tension between them to lessen. The problem was, the tension had not lightened. If anything, it seemed more tenuous, now; and it would be difficult to forget this moment, no matter the outcome of the situation. Because Elara so desperately wanted to fix this. To extinguish the need to snip and snark at one another, to warm up the coldness that had settled between them. But it was impossible to even think about doing so when they had a job to do. Even more impossible when it was the job making it difficult to rectify everything in the first place.
"Let's assemble our squads and meet outside the 442nd's battalion CP to discuss tactics," Elara suggested, voice bland and flat. Her eyes returned to Obi-Wan, who seemed, for all intents and purposes, thrown by the total three-sixty her attitude had just taken. "I'm sure that Commander Cody and Captain Ack-Ack will have decent enough insight on the situation."
Not allowing Obi-Wan a response, Elara took a side-stepped him as she continued past him down the stairs. Their shoulders crashed into each other unintentionally; she'd misjudged the distance. The clack of plastoid alloy colliding together was louder than any explosion. Though they'd not struck one another hard, it felt like a blaster shot to the shoulder––Elara had taken a couple of those, and the comparison was apt. Jarring, breath-taking, and disorienting. Because in that moment their energies had sparked off one another sharply, the way electricity zapped at skin when you got too close to a plasma coil. Except it wasn't Obi-Wan's energy that had bitten at her skin––it was her own. Like it had refracted off his stubbornly to bounce back on her with a punishing nip. Like the energies themselves were sentient and knew that all of this was wrong.
With a shaking breath, Elara continued down the stairs, fighting the urge to throw a look back over her shoulder. Instead, she continued forward, shoulders square, chin lifted, expression impassive. To anyone she might've passed, she looked the epitome of the perfect Jedi.
OOOO
Ack-Ack, to some degree, was well-versed in Coruscant's Underworld. To be more precise, he was better acquainted with the upper lower levels, the ones the Overworlders deemed to be civilized and safe enough to visit. A number of clone-only bars had sprung up on Level 1; it wasn't uncommon to head there after a successful mission, or go there to drown your sorrows and drink to a fallen brother. Level 1 was the only level, as a matter of fact, that anyone from the Overworld ever willingly visited. Every so often, one could be convinced to visit Level 2, but it was always a feat to do so. The first level was bathed in neon lights, stuffy with warm, recycled air, but it wasn't unpleasant. There was a decent tramway, and its own dedicated police force. The company was often a little gruffer than what you'd find in the city on its surface level, but they were often good company. Good, decent beings who worked for a living and couldn't afford to live in the sun illuminated, expensive apartments top-side. These were folk who couldn't even afford to live in Coco Town, the industrial sector of the Overworld.
Level 5 was believed to be the lowest inhabitable level on the planet. It was littered with spice dens, crawled with crime lords, and stank of neglect. It was that neglect that allowed the cruelty of the lowest level to flourish darkly. Ack-Ack had heard Elara state that the seedy side-streets and the less than favorable company reminded her of Tatooine. Though Tatooine seemed a hair more charming, she'd always say afterwards. He was wont to believe her. The levels beyond that fifth level were often relegated to things such as power plants and air-recycling systems. There was much that went into operating a fully operational ecumenopolis, and the deeper levels were relegated to see that it ran smoothly.
It was just their luck––and Ack-Ack's relief––that Contigo Squadron had been chosen to scour Level 1 for their man. It was a far more favorable landscape, he had to admit. Though it wasn't uncommon to see clone troopers or Jedi in this top level, their presence was still heavily noted. Folks eyed them pointedly, following their progress along streets and down alleyways. Some would skitter away into the shadows at their approach, hiding items in pockets, drawing cloaks over faces, and hurrying off with a companion close at their side.
"They do know we're not the police, right?" Ack-Ack asked in a half-amused drawl. They'd just watched what was most likely a spice dealer rushedly duck into the nearest alley, hustling away with remarkable speed.
"We might as well be," Elara commented. "Those stripes down your arms and the lightsaber on my hip make us equal, if not greater, in authority to the Underworld police."
Ack-Ack turned his right arm in towards himself, taking a glance at the thick streak of green painted down along the length of his armor. The mark of a captain. It had been touched up recently, so the color was a little brighter. But no amount of paint could cover up the scrapes and scratches cut into the plastoid alloy. Elara's request for faster armor replacement had yet to go through. There'd been no official approval or denial, which meant it was probably sitting in the datapad of some high ranking official, unopened and uncared for. Frustrating, that was. Ack-Ack could think of several men who were wearing cracked plastoid pieces.
"Probably think we're here on a raid. Come to take down a spice den or somethin'," he said.
The sound that left Elara's mouth was half of a laugh, half of a resigned sigh. "If only. Infiltrating a spice den would be much simpler than this."
"Well, I don't mind the search detail. Nice break from all the shooting. I know the lads appreciate it, too."
Thus far, the war had awarded them few low-keyed missions. Most all of them involved hails of blaster fire, explosions, and insufferable noise. Usually if the General was called away on something calmer, they weren't instructed to accompany her. It meant they got a chance to rest, but it didn't allow them to exercise their other skills. They had been trained to do things like this––to track and search and locate. It was slower paced and intuitive. It was a chance to showcase that they were more than blaster-wielding commandos. It was something different. So when Elara had come forth and asked for a small squad of troopers to accompany her on a search of the lower levels, they'd leapt at the chance. And when they found out they were after a bounty hunter? Well, the first assumption was that the fella was the one who was after their Genny. That riled up a lot of spunk. While it was amusing to think that their General, a kind hearted Jedi, had a bounty on her head, it was a major concern. A concern that most anyone in the 442nd––especially in Contigo Squadron––would jump at the chance to help rectify. That meant there was a little disappointment when they were informed it wasn't the fella after her. Or, at least, if he was, he hadn't been there for her; which meant that he probably wasn't after her at all.
Still, hunting down a bounty hunter was a nice change of pace. The weight of the situation wasn't lost on Ack-Ack, however. Bane had something that could put the lives of children in danger; and that simply wouldn't stand, not if the captain had anything to say about it. In order to cover more ground, the squad had split up in groups of two and given a quadrant to comb. The 442nd was on Level 1. The 212th was on Level 2. And they were all searching every conceivable locale and questioning every willing being they could. They asked around cantinas, prompted passers-by to take a look at Bane's picture, which stared grimly at them from the soft blue light of Ack-Ack's personal holoproj. They'd been searching for round about three hours, and no one gave any sort of indication they recognized Bane. That, or they knew and weren't intent on revealing his whereabouts.
"So, d'you really think he's still hangin' around?" Ack-Ack asked. They turned the corner on to a busier street, which might be to their advantage. It seemed like the less populated the space was, the less willing folks were to talk.
He watched as Elara's lips flickered into a grimace. She sighed as her eyes continued to do a repetitive scan of the beings and building façades up ahead. There was a troubled air about the General that day. Something had seemed off for a while, as Ack-Ack had previously observed, but it had been particularly worse as of late. And now, as they meandered the maze-like streets of Level 1, things felt even worse off.
"If I'm being honest, I don't believe he's planetside anymore. Any self-respecting criminal knows not to hang around the scene of the crime they just committed. If you do, you're either cocky or stupid. And from what we know about Bane, he's cocky, but not to a fault, and he's not an idiot. The search is necessary, though. If there's one thing that General Kenobi and I agree on, it's learning whether or not Bane has fled," came Elara's response. There was an odd tenseness to her tone, one that Ack-Ack was not particularly acquainted with.
What he was particularly acquainted with was how she addressed her fellows. Given the situation, he was often called 'Acks' or 'Captain Acks,' sometimes just 'Captain.' Her brother was almost always 'Anakin,' unless there were superiors or members of the Council present. And General Kenobi, in a similar vein, was often simply 'Obi-Wan.' 'Master Kenobi' and 'General Kenobi' weren't uncommon, but they were often used in the heat of battle or during strategy meetings. It seemed to be a habit of hers that, unless protocol required it, she preferred to call someone by their given or chosen name. This situation did not require her to call Obi-Wan 'General Kenobi.' Nor did it ask of her to say it so tightly. This was one of those instances where Ack-Ack was glad that he wore a helmet; because it obscured the wash of realization that flooded across his face.
This all had to do with General Kenobi.
Realization gave way to pinched displeasure. Ack-Ack had always held a certain kind of respect and admiration for General Kenobi. He was a brilliant strategist, a professional negotiator. He, like both Skywalkers, cared for the troops in his command, which was more than could be said for some battalions. And there was something markedly… special about the way he and Elara worked with one another. They were always in-tune with one another, it seemed. They knew each other's strengths and weaknesses. And though they didn't have special hand signals like General Kenobi and the other General Skywalker did, they always seemed to know what the other was about to do. Not only was their relationship remarkable in the heat of battle, it was admirable off the field, too. They smiled and joked and debated. They flirted quite a bit, too, though it was dismissed by many as friendly banter. Jedi, after all, were not allowed to do things like flirt. That was against their Code. That didn't stop the lads from speculating, though. There was even a 'secret' betting pool about whether or not the two were having a fling. This was something Ack-Ack wasn't supposed to know existed. But Blinker, bless him, didn't know how to whisper to save his life.
Whatever was going on between them was no business of theirs. They were kriffing Generals, they were their superior officers. Whatever happened between them wasn't their business, and it was, frankly, unprofessional to make bets on it. What was their business, Ack-Ack believed, was the well-being of their Genny. If she was injured, they got her care. If she wasn't resting proper like, they got her to rest up. Bounty hunter on her tail? They'll track him down. If she was distressed in any way, shape or form––well, whoever did the distressing wasn't going to be too happy they did it in the first place. And it had been very clear to Ack-Ack that General Kenobi had done something to upset Elara on Ryloth. And that didn't sit well with him. Not even a little bit. It didn't matter how good of a warrior General Kenobi was. It didn't matter how amiable he and Elara had been before––his upsetting her didn't sit well with the captain. Not a little bit. He wasn't sure what he'd interrupted behind that boulder, but it had been enough to affect Elara's general demeanor for days. A week almost, now.
Ack-Ack had always been adamant on there being a line of professionalism that was maintained between himself and Elara. But he'd be a damn good liar if he could convince anyone that she wasn't his friend. That she wasn't, in some way or another, family to him and the lads. That line, though still present, was a hair more blurred around the edges. Many times before he'd talked himself out of these conversations by insisting that 'it wasn't his place' to inquire into such matters. But if Elara took enough care to ask him and the lads what ailed them, it was absolutely his place to inquire about her well-being.
"If you don't mind my asking, General... are things all well and good between you and General Kenobi?" Ack-Ack asked.
It was impossible to miss the way that Elara's posture stiffened at the inquiry. It was confirmation enough. Ack-Ack's lips pulled into a grimace, still hidden by the impassive visor of his helmet. Both of them paused as a tooka darted across their path, pausing briefly to hiss at them before it disappeared into a nearby alley. They started to walk again, in tense silence. This was also unlike Elara. She was typically a very forthcoming person, which led Ack-Ack to believe that whatever had transpired between the two Generals was more serious than he previously thought. And though he had a right as her friend and comrade to ask, it wasn't his place to pry. So he scanned the neon signs overhead, and then pointed to one that looked promising. It was a ways up the street, but it was just the sort of spot they were looking for.
"That's a boarding house. We can stop in and see if the proprietors have seen Bane," he suggested. It was best to keep on task. If the General didn't wish to speak about the matter, then they wouldn't speak on the matter. He owed her that much, and so much more.
They proceeded forward a few steps before Elara spoke again.
"No. Things are not all well and good," she admitted softly.
Ack-Ack turned to look at his General, and found that there was more of a prominent frown on her face. One that tugged at his heartstrings because it looked so hurt. He'd seen Elara grimace through the pain of a wound, see her face flush with exhaustion, her body tremble with the effects of overexertion. This was a different kind of pain. A deep sort of the stuff, one that cut at you mercilessly till you toppled like a tree. He'd seen it on the faces of his brothers before. He'd never seen it on hers.
"Is there anything I can do?" he asked.
A rueful smile quirked at a single corner of her mouth. She shot him a thankful gaze, but she shook her head. "I'm afraid this is our mess to rectify. Just… don't tell Anakin. He knows something is wrong, but… he doesn't know how serious it is. I'd rather he didn't know." Ack-Ack bobbed his head in a confirming nod. Her smile grew a little, then, and she reached out to touch his arm. "Thank you, Acks."
Again, he nodded. "Suspected somethin' was up. You haven't been acting quite like yourself, it's been worryin' me; thought General Kenobi might have somethin' to do with it, too. Whatever he did back on Ryloth, know that I won't be lettin' it happen again."
"As easy as it would be to slough the blame off onto General Kenobi, we are both at fault in this mess," she admitted.
"Well, if you're both at fault, then it still means he did somethin'. And if he ever does it again, you let me know," Ack-Ack told her. His voice had been stern yet maintained a professional air about it.
There was a breathy, unexpected trill of laughter from Elara. She turned a smile, wider than anything he'd seen in days, up at him, and arched a single brow. "Are you threatening a Master of the Jedi Order and a General of the Grand Army of the Republic, Captain?" she asked, tone light.
The corner of Ack-Ack's mouth curled upwards and he cocked his head to the side briefly.
"Not in the least bit. Just lettin' you know that me and the lads've got your back no matter what––and no matter who challenges you."
The smile that had warmed Elara's features slowly began to wane. A faint glassiness started to build in her eyes. For a moment, Ack-Ack feared he'd done or said something wrong; that his insistence of their heartfelt loyalty––particularly in this situation––had struck the wrong cord. Before he could trip over himself to apologize for overstepping, Elara reached out and placed a hand against his shoulder blade. But instead of a pat, it stayed pressed there. It was a thankful gesture, not one of displeasure. So he returned it, his hand coming to rest against her shoulder blade with a firm pressure.
"Thank you, Acks."
"Of course, General."
OOOO
Clubs in Level 1 weren't as nice as their counterparts up top in the Entertainment District. They pulsed with orange and yellow lights, like the places had a sickly, jaundiced heartbeat. The air reeked openly of spice and other such drugs. The floor was sticky underfoot. Beings of all sorts mingled in corner booths, piled into back-room spice dens, or swayed jerkily to whatever music the band happened to play that night. All sorts of folk came to the clubs for a good time, even Overworlders. The Entertainment District had good clubs, sure; but here, on Level 1, a level of anonymity was afforded to its patrons. Up top, you had to worry about reputation. Down here, you just had to worry about what establishment you'd lend your patronage too. It wasn't uncommon to see the odd Senator in places like this, slipping in through the back door. It was the kind of place that you came to when you didn't want to be noticed.
And that was exactly why Blinker and Gunney were investigating it.
Blinker pressed himself up against the glowing bar top and leaned over it. He spotted a gruff looking Twi'lek man with a scuzzy looking apron––the bartender.
"Hey, sir!" Blinker called, throwing a hand out to catch his attention.
The Twi'lek's head swiveled around, eyes scanning for who'd called for him. When they settled on the trooper at his bar, his naturally gruff expression crumpled up further. He waved a thick hand at them, violent and dismissive.
"Oi, get outta 'ere, bucketheads!" the bartender spat.
Blinker reeled back a little at the insult, and his hand dropped to the bar with a heavy slap. The Twi'lek sneered at him unkindly. He'd been called plenty of things before, but buckethead had never been one of them. A choked sound of affront sputtered past Blinker's lips and through the modulator of his helmet.
"Bucketheads?" he pressed. His head wheeled around so he could gape at Gunney, though the mortified expression was obscured by his helmet. He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder at the now approaching bartender. "He just called us bucketheads!"
"I heard," Gunney deadpanned.
Blinker scoffed and shook his head. "Oh, well, I'll tell him what I think of 'im."
"Blinker, don't."
But Blinker was turning back to the Twi'lek man, who now stood directly on the other side of the bar. His arms were folded over his chest, and the sleeveless aspect of the man's shirt put them on display. They were large. They were the most muscled arms Blinker had ever seen on a Twi'lek before. But this didn't discourage him in the slightest. With indignance coursing through his system, he leaned back over the bar and jabbed a finger at the bartender.
"Well you listen here––"
"No, you listen. I don' want no look-alikes in my club, so you and your same faced brother better scram."
The word, the insult of 'look-alike' had Blinker's blood running cold. His hand slapped back down on the bar top, and his shoulders squared sharply. He may have an excellent sense of humor––the best in the battalion, really––and he very well may be the morale booster of Contigo Squadron. He might always have some kind of smile or smirk on his face, but that didn't mean he didn't get riled up. He didn't like getting riled up. Didn't like the way he felt when he got heated, when all he wanted to do was spit angry words and crack his knuckles. But the insults––that did it. That really did it.
"Gunney," Blinker said evenly. "I wanna give you fair warning that I'm 'bout to fly over this bar, so if you don't wanna have to give an incident report, you better look away now."
Gunney's hand shot out and gripped his brother's plastoid covered shoulder hard. He pressed down pointedly, which pushed Blinker back into being flat footed. He'd been so ready to launch himself at the bartender that he'd risen up onto his toes.
"Cool it, Blinks," he ordered. He then turned to the bartender, who was smirking at them venomously. "Sir, despite what my brother here may be projecting, we don't want any trouble."
"If you don' wan' any trouble, you best get out of my establishment," the man deadpanned.
"And we'll get out of your lekkus if you just answer a question for us."
The bartender's mouth twisted into a snarled frown and his eyes danced between both troopers. He snorted and shook his head and muttered something in his native tongue. Blinker had a pretty good idea that he wasn't singing their praises; he was probably damning them to the lowest level of the planet. But then he pointed to the door on the opposite side of the room, through which the streets of Level 1 beckoned.
"One question, then you go."
Gunney dropped his hand from Blinker's shoulder, but not before smacking it in a silent reprimand. Below the bar top, so the Twi'lek wouldn't see, Blinker threw his own hand into his brother's leg. With a slight shake of his head, Gunney pulled a holoproj out of a pouch on his belt. He pressed a button on its side and an image of Cad Bane burst to life. The bounty hunter's visage glowed in a wash of blue light, grimacing from under a wide brimmed at. "Have you seen this man?"
To his credit, the Twi'lek did give the holoimage a decent look. But, unsurprisingly, his shoulders then rose and fell in a dismissive shrug.
"Lots of sorts come through 'ere. If I've seen the guy, I've forgotten. Now. I've answered your question." He leaned forward and pointed back at the door. "Get. Out."
Gunney's head jerked in a stiff nod. He deactivated the holoproj and tucked it away again. "Thank you for your time, sir."
"Yeah, thanks," Blinker drawled sarcastically. "Just so you know, I will not be recommending this establishment to my friends."
"Blinker, let's go," Gunney ground out, hooking a hand into the crook of the other trooper's arm. He pulled Blinker from the club, the two of them all but plowing through the intoxicated mass of beings that were enjoying their evening. Once they were back out in the comparatively quiet and calm street, Gunney let him go. "Kriffing hell, Blinks…"
Blinker threw his arms out in a defensive gesture. He stood there, arms akimbo, as Gunney started to walk away, already continuing their search. With a sigh, his arms dropped back down to his sides, the plastoid alloy clacking together noisily. He spared one last distasteful glance back at the club and jogged after his brother. His boots trod heavily into a number of puddles, spraying murky water up around his feet as he went. Once he caught up with Gunney, the two walked in silence for a few feet.
"I'm sorry 'bout that," Blinker sighed.
There was a faint clacking as Gunney's shoulders rose and fell in a shrug. "No reason to be sorry. Guy was a rakeweed," he spat. In fact, if his helmet was off, he probably would have spit.
Mildly stricken by surprise, Blinker's helmet whirled around so he could gape at his brother from behind the visor. Gunney was an enigma. Tough as durasteel, a stickler for the rules, stoic as the best Jedi, he was a walking conundrum. Because he had a wicked sense of humor, a fiercely protective streak, and a half-way decent smile beneath all that. The thing was, the only smile he ever really gave was the one permanently half-formed on his mouth because of that scar. But he always said that he was perfectly fine. Happy, even. Despite his demeanor, Blinker wasn't sure he'd ever really seen Gunney truly angry. But he sensed it now in the venom he imbued the word 'rakeweed' with.
With a wheezed, quiet laugh, Blinker nodded. "Yeah. A real rakeweed."
"Would've let you at him if it wouldn't disappoint the General."
With a snort, Blinker waved a hand through the air, lips lifting into a hidden grin.
"Ahh, she wouldn't mind; she doesn't tolerate stuff like that," he said, tone fondly brimming with pride.
Beside him, Gunney nodded slow and appreciatively. "She's a good General. One of the best," he agreed.
"Speaking of…" Blinker trailed off, stayed quiet for a moment, and then threw a startling elbow into Gunney's side. His brother jumped and then batted his arm away with a swear. Blinker chuckled and cast a wayward glance over his shoulder. It was a knee-jerk reaction when he decided to talk about this stuff––always had to make sure no one of note was around, like Acks, Cody, or the Genny herself. Any of the Gennys, really. There wasn't anyone to worry about around here. Just a couple of stragglers that couldn't give a bantha's ass about what the troopers were talking about. "When're you gonna place your bet?"
The groan that grumbled from Gunney's modulator was visceral. His helmet tipped forward and a hand rose to press fingers against the forehead of it. Blinker continued to grin from behind his own waiting for what would surely be an amusing response. This was something he goaded Gunney about often, and his reactions were always priceless.
"How many times have I told you I'm not participating in something so childish and unprofessional?" Gunney inquired stiffly.
The bet in question was that of whether or not General Elara Skywalker of the 442nd Attack Battalion and General Obi-Wan Kenobi of the 212th Attack Battalion were having a fling. He had a neat little chart with names, monetary amounts, and what they thought the outcome was. Again, he might be a goof––but he was an organized goof. Charts were all visual, and he was a very visual man; he had an artistic eye, and it was pleasing to see things placed in neat rows and columns. Blinker had bets from all over the 442nd, and a decent chunk from the 212th, too. The overarching belief was no––the two very attractive Jedi who were flirting with one another left-right-and-center were not having a fling. They were just being 'nice.' Blinker begged to differ, and was lumped in the minority that believed something was definitely happening.
"It's all in good fun!" Blinker protested.
"Good fun till the Council catches wind of your hairbrained conspiracy and punishes the Generals for no good reason," Gunney retorted.
Blinker clucked his tongue and flapped a hand through the air. "They're not gonna find out."
"What if they do?"
"They won't. Have faith in your brothers and their ability to keep secrets, Gunney."
There was a brief pause before Gunney launched back into the offensive.
"Besides, what's this bet even based on?"
"Facts," Blinker replied matter-of-factly.
"You wouldn't know a fact if it looped 'round and bit you in the ass," Gunney grumbled.
With an air of mock offense, Blinker slapped a hand against his own chest. "I have evidence."
"Sure you do."
"I do!"
That evidence was almost all visual––again, he was a visual guy––and all quietly observed. Relationships, romantic relationships were forbidden to the Jedi, something that Blinker, quite frankly, found ridiculous. That rule, however, didn't rule out anything but the emotional aspect. They could still do… things. All sorts of things, they just couldn't fall in love, which was a damn shame. Because the both of them… they just worked together. Even if he was wrong, there was strong evidence for his belief. It was hard to ignore the flirting, which many dismissed as banter. He'd seen the weighty looks and the prolonged brushes of the hand, the latter of which was often dismissed as friendliness. But the looks… that was the key to it all. The looks.
"You've got an overactive imagination, Blinks," Gunney said with a shake of his head.
"Is it wrong of me to want my General to be happy?" Blinker posed. With a shake of his head, Blinker let the matter drop. Gunney was never going to place a bet, that he knew. He also was never going to bring it up to any level of authority that wasn't Acks, who'd probably just give him a slap on the wrist. But it was fun to rib him about it.
"What she and General Kenobi do, whether it be… flingy or not is none of your business. They're our superiors, and she's our direct superior. What do you think she'd think if she ever found out you were running a betting pool over a non-existent relationship between herself and––" Gunney continued to prattle on about protocol, which Blinker instinctively let melt into background noise.
As a soldier, one learned to listen to their instincts. If you felt like running, you ran. If the urge to hide struck, you hid. So when a shiver curled down the length of Blinker's spine, telegraphing the feeling of being watched, he listened to it. Subtly, as not to tip off whoever might be watching, Blinker turned a glance over his shoulder. There still weren't many people out and about… but there was someone following about ten feet back. Their head was ducked and their shoulders were hunched, likely to make themselves seem smaller and unnoticeable. Blinker, with pursed lips, turned his attention forward once more. His gait picked up out of its more casual stride and clicked right back into his soldierly march.
"––not to mention Captain Acks would be horrified to find out you've been––"
"I love you, Guns, but I need you to shut up. I think we're being followed."
The voiced belief that they were being tailed canceled out any griping Gunney might've done after being told to shut up. Instead, he squared his shoulders even more than they'd previously been. The two walked perfectly in sync, marching like soldiers, and exchanged no more words. Instead, Gunney subtly tilted his head to the left, signalling to take the next corner. They both did, and walked ten more feet, at which point Blinker checked over his shoulder again. The figure was still following.
"Still there," he confirmed.
"There's an alley up ahead," Gunney pointed out. "We're going to turn down it like we're using it as a through-way; walk with purpose. We'll flatten up against the wall, and if they follow us in, we'll nab 'em."
"Right," Blinker agreed.
And that was exactly as they did. They strode into the alley with practiced purpose, not faltering a single step. And once they were suitably out of sight, both troopers flattened themselves against the wall. Gunney pulled his blaster, and Blinker got ready to grab their follower. And just as predicted, the tail stepped right into the alleyway, completely unsuspecting. Blinker lunged forward, hands outstretched, and grabbed two fistfulls of the man's coat. The man let out a raspy gasp as Blinker swung him around and slammed him up against the wall. Once he was hustled against it, Gunney swept in and aimed the blaster pistol at the man's head.
The Balosar man threw his hands up, eyes wide. His antennapalps were fully extended, alert in his startledness. He had a weasley look about him, mostly present in the way his eyes darted between the troopers. "Don't shoot, don't shoot!" he pleaded in his raspy voice.
"Why shouldn't we?" Blinker asked. His voice had hardened in the seriousness of the moment, but it still maintained a relatively playful lilt.
"You've been followin' us," Gunney swiftly followed up.
"I want to help!" the man insisted. He shook his hands a little to draw attention to them, to his show of surrender. "I'm unarmed, I swear."
Blinker cricked his head around to look at Gunney. "Bit suspicious, don't you think? Followin' us to help us? I don't know if I buy it."
"I swear, I promise! I saw you back at the club, I saw that holoimage," the man said. His hands were still hoisted up by his face, and his coat was pulled up against his neck from the way Blinker pulled at it. His eyes frantically darted between the two helmeted troopers. He fluttered his hands at himself tentatively. "I've seen him, I know him. Bounty hunter type, right?"
The alley was quiet for a moment. A couple of passers-by skirted around the mouth of the close, and none of them paid the scene any mind. This sort of thing was normal in the lower levels. In the Overworld, a call would have been made immediately. Here, it was just as common as seeing a tooka chase a rodent. Even the oddity of the situation including two clone troopers wasn't enough to warrant it more than a passing glance.
"Why'd you wanna help us, huh? What'd you want in return?" Gunney asked. His grip on the blaster pistol was unwavering, and that in itself was threatening.
The Bolsar man shook his head frantically.
"Nothing."
"Nothing? I find that hard to believe," Blinker admitted. "Down here, everyone wants something, even on Level 1."
"I don't want anything!" the man insisted. He rolled his shoulders in either what was discomfort or injured pride. "I've rethought my life, turned it around. I used to deal death sticks, used to use them––but I don't anymore. I'm clean and I deal in something more lucrative, less dangerous."
"Oh? And what's that."
"Weapons."
If Blinker were helmetless, the Bolsar man would have been leveled with a look so dry it would've made all Kamino's water disappear. Instead, it was lost to the inside of his helmet. "Right. Less dangerous," he deadpanned.
The Bolsar man's face pinched up for the first time since he'd entered the alley. "Hey, death sticks are the reason I dropped out of medical school, they ruined my life!" he defended.
Blinker's helmet twisted round to look at Gunney. "Is this guy for real?"
"Do you want my help or not, huh?" the man asked.
"What do you know?" Gunney asked.
"Maybe loosen up on the hold and I'll tell you."
With the blaster still trained at the Balosar's head, Gunney started to pat the man down. All the while, Blinker continued to hold him fast by the lapels of his coat; he watched as his brother tapped every conceivable area a blaster might be hidden. Then he went for the pockets of the coat. Right pocket clear, the left pocket––Gunney paused. His helmet lifted to stare blank and hard at their would-be informant. Blinker tightened his hold on him, a warning––if he'd lied… there'd be trouble. Gunney's hand delved into the pocket and extracted not a weapon, but several death sticks, bright red and yellow in color.
"Done with death sticks, huh?" Gunney deadpanned. He chucked the sticks down the alley with a distasteful flick of his wrist.
The man shrugged haplessly. "Sometimes you need an extra bit of change."
There was a slight shake of Gunney's helmet, disbelief in the short movement. He then nudged Blinker with his elbow. He lowered his blaster pistol. "He's not lyin'. No weapons."
Pointedly, Blinker removed one hand from the Balosar's coat. The other remained, a reminder that trying to run would be fruitless. Blinker was, undoubtedly, stronger. To the man's credit, he'd been very compliant. It was perfectly clear he'd been in this kind of situation before. Even when half of his coat had been released, his hands still hung in the air; they just shrank down to a more comfortable level. The Balosar rolled out his neck and then jerked his chin towards the street.
"Saw him a couple days ago, several blocks from here. He was headed into Madame Ziima's," he revealed.
"What's Madame Ziima's?" Blinker asked.
"A boarding house. Nice rooms, but the company isn't too savory. Not the sort of place I'd want to live long term. Haven't seen him since, don't really want to. Looked like a nasty guy."
"He is a nasty guy," Blinker confirmed. He wheeled his attention around to his brother. "What do we do with 'im?"
Gunney gave the Balosar a once-over, evident from the slow downwards tilt of his helmet. He shrugged. "Let 'im go. If he's lied we don't lose anything, just time."
With a nod, Blinker released the other lapel. He then made a show of smoothing out and straightening the front of the coat. Once he was done righting the man's apparel, he jerked his head towards the mouth of the alley, silently telling him to scram. The two troopers watched him slink out into the night, disappearing around the corner and out of view.
"What if it's a trap?" Blinker asked. It had seemed too good to be true, that some sleazebag 'former' death sticks dealer would just hand them info this good. War had made him wary, with good reason.
"I'm no Jedi, but I don't get the feeling it is. The General said she doesn't even think Bane's on planet anymore; if he did have a room at Ziima's, then it's probably empty now. Even if it is a trap, I don't think they'll be any math for two Jedi and two trooper squadrons," Gunney admitted. He then lifted his arm to his mouth and activated his comm. "General? Blinker and I, I think we've got something."
Abience––the strong urge to avoid something or someone
Afterword: I thought with all the angst we've been dealing with, some mildly comedic Blinker POV was needed. It was a fun first foray into the craziness that is his consciousness! A final confirmation that Blinker is, in fact, running a betting pool and does, in fact, have a space-excel sheet. It had to be done.
Review Replies!
DCDGojira: Ahh, thank you so much! So glad you enjoyed the last chapter, and really hope you enjoyed this one just the same! Thanks again!
I-got-zapped: Obi-Wan is certainly doing his damndest to fight against what's happening; and Elara is most certainly trying to maintain the image of the Jedi she believes she's supposed to be. It really is maddening to have them dance around it all, but as you say, it's in their characters to do so. Which, by the way, I'm so glad to hear that their regression to being tense and withdrawn is working out for their characterizations! I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
JennyElephant: Ahh, thank you so much! I've had so much fun delving into the characters, so I'm ecstatic to hear that they've seemingly remained in character! I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
RemiSparklez: It was the first time that I've ever written from Yoda's POV, so it was a lot of fun to figure out last chapter! I'm glad you enjoyed it; and I forget how much I enjoy including Yoda in this story, too, until he wanders back into it. I'm so glad you enjoyed the last chapter, and hope you enjoyed this one, too! Thanks again!
MsRosePetal: There may be some tears to be had in the next few chapters, but they will give way to happy tears soon enough! Just gotta let these two fools work through their stubbornness first. The fight for this chapter, ugh, it hurt to write. But it was bound to boil over sooner rather than later… and the aftermath of it… oh, it's gonna suck. They're both breaking each other's hearts… but, eventually, they will both be there to mend them. I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
bambam411: Force signatures are something that I've always been so interested in, and I wish we had more canon descriptions of them. How they feel, how Jedi must use them to identify friend or foe… so I have fun playing around with it! And I am *so excited* for the Satine episodes in this season! I rewatched them recently so I could remind myself of the energy of them, and how Elara and Obi's situation would fit in, and I am so hype. Also, there is some bounty hunter content in Season 2; and with none other than Hondo, too! I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
Guest 1: Hi! I have one or two very briefly written Yularen interactions in previous chapters. As he's the Admiral of Anakin's fleet, she only really bumps into him if she's working directly on ship with him. And I don't know if she'll ever meet Thrawn, I hadn't given that much thought… but now I'll have to give it a looksee!
idontprocrastinateiread: Hi! I've seen you interact with stuff on Tumblr, it's great to see you over here, too! I'm so happy you've been enjoying the story thus far! It's a fun challenge to toggle so many characters and their POVs. I love delving into the psyches of characters. And there are so many interesting characters in SWs, that every POV/thought process is so unique. Also, it's a huge compliment that it feels like you're watching the film/TCW episode as you read! I'm happy that this story can be something that'll make shitty days better; I know getting to share it with y'all helps me on my bad days, so it's lovely to know that it serves the same purpose for others. I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again, it was lovely to hear from you!
Guest 2: I've got stuff in mind with Tarkin; he and Elara are certainly not gonna get along for many reasons, one of which being how he treats Ahsoka.
MotherAiya: I'm glad that Yoda seemed in character in the last chapter! I based a lot of his decision making off of an interview Dave Filoni did regarding Yoda's changing views on the Order. I know he's often depicted as a major stickler for the OG Code, so I was worried it would seem ooc. Because between the two of them, Mace is definitely the real stickler, I think; and certainly more wary. I'd be more worried about him noticing something was up than Yoda, truthfully. And Obi-Wan shielding her from that blast––if he thought he could hide what he was feeling, he damn well betrayed himself right there xD And, uhhh… I'm here for spicy CPR. O.O I really am. We'll, uh… we'll see if that can work its way in ;) I'm here for spicy Obi-Lara content. I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
09sasha: I'm happy to have cleared stuff up for you! The last chapter was wicked tricky to navigate, and definitely confusing given I omitted 2.5 of the POVs the episode covered. But I'm glad you enjoyed the Yoda and Windu talk at the beginning! It had been a while since I'd addressed the Council side of this situation, so I thought it seemed like the right time. I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
Nerdette92: Obi-Wan may call Elara stubborn, but he is the single most stubborn man in this story. Even over Anakin at this point. 'Cause boy howdy… this man is struggling not to let go and give in. But, ahh, when he finally does… it's gonna be so, so good. The angst train continues… the last few stops are always the toughest to sit through, so the end is in sight… but they keep truckin' on. I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
Isabelnecessaryonabicycle: I feel like Force signatures, once you were in-tune with particular ones, could be a distracting mess. So I was like 'these two fools in love are gonna have the worst time with it.' And, y'know, I think if Obi-Wan just kept getting loved on, he'd cry out of confused appreciation. He deserves all the love in the galaxy! Next chapter we'll actually catch up with Cad Bane… and we'll get to see both Elara and Obi-Wan (and Ani) ponder why it is Elara seems to attract some kind of attention from every criminal they meet. I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
Eomy: I spoiled myself with those Ani/Lari moments! I miss writing them together, so I indulged in them a bit. If there's anything this angst has been good for, it's getting Elara and Anakin some more time together. And I will have instances where they start working on the Force bond, but it'll probably be practically, like while they're out on a mission. 'Cause, as we know, they have little to no downtime. The aftermath of that kiss is… so massive, I didn't expect it to be this heavy, honestly. But it makes a painful amount of sense, so we continue to ride the aftershocks of it. I'm trying to make sure it has dimension, so it's just not a wall of one dimensional angst. And Anakin… he probably did see Obi shielding her from the blast. We should get an Ani POV soon, so we'll get his thoughts on all of this soon! I'm always happy to get these updates out fairly regularly, and I'm glad they can help distract you! I hope all is well with you, and I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
northernfiction: I'm so happy you've enjoyed the story so much thus far! It's always flattering to hear that someone's doing a secondary read through of it in the interim! :) I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
PrettyRecklessLaura: Obi's coldness can definitely be attributed, in part, to the Council watching. But he's also trying so desperately to regain a hold of the situation, some kind of control of it, and the only way he knows how to do that is become 'the epitome of a Jedi.' Poor, poor man. I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
DesertMortician: I'm so glad you're enjoying the story! I absolutely adore writing about the clone troopers; I had fun fleshing out their characters and finding the unique dynamic of the 442nd/Contigo Squadron. As for your questions––I do not plan on doing all of the CWs episodes; it would take years to cover them all. I've selected handfuls from each season, ones that I think benefit the overarching storyline of Balance the best. I had a lot from S1 purely for the fact it helped set up the rest of the war (introducing the 442nd, how the Jedi fit into the war, the changing dynamic of Obi and Elara's relationship). And I do plan on including 'Deception'! I'm actually incredibly excited to include the 'Deception' arc. As for the second question––with stories where there could be multiple outcomes of the ending, I do toy around with writing 'alternate ending' chapters. So it's entirely possible that I could put out a one-shot/couple chapter thing depicting 'what could've happened.' And I'm glad that my characterization of Palps is working! I wanted to make sure he wasn't outwardly so evil that Elara, at this point, is like 'yeah, let's look into that.' And he is absolutely changing his tactics up to try and draw Elara in. He's realized, now, that what's working for Anakin isn't working for her. He can't just offer a friendly invitation and take her under his wing. He's gonna have to be more cunning. I plan on addressing that soon! I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
themagentacolor: Ahh, again, your reviews are so lovely! And, again, I'd like to respond in kind, so I'll shoot you a PM later today (hopefully) to respond to your replies for both 42 and 43! But I'm sorry for all the angst xD These two fools in love just don't know how to handle it just yet. The pain will fade away, though, and give way to fluffy goodness, I swear it! I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again! Keep an eye out for that PM!
LoveFiction2021: Thank you so much! I hope you enjoyed the chapter!
Duchess of Lantern Waste: We'll get an Obi POV soon! Maybe next chapter, it depends on how things pan out. If not then, then very soon! We're at the point where consistent Obi-Wan POVs are kinda required. Elara is, indeed, head over heels for this man, and she's so, so confused. And now it's expressing itself and in all the wrong ways. I had fun with the Yoda/Windu stuff! I forget how important it is, sometimes, to keep them in the loop about this stuff. I love writing Force signature stuff; I feel like it's just so telling when they can't express things verbally! I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
WaywardandWanderlust: If the end of the last chapter was 'all the feels,' then I am very sorry to have started this chapter with a whammy of feels. Things were bound to boil over… :( I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
Princess Jaquline Chess: It's always important to have breather chapters, especially in a war story. We've certainly hit the point of Obi-Wan and Elara not seeing eye-to-eye. Severely not seeing eye-to-eye. It's a nice (sad) little throwback to those first few days they knew each other. And Anakin very much has this idea, this picture of what his family is––it's Padmé and Elara and Obi-wan and now Ahsoka. And it's been like that for so long, now, that the idea that it could ever be altered hasn't occurred to him. Like, one of the reasons Elara asks Acks not to say something is because if Ani knew just how serious this was, he'd go into a major panic. We catch up with Bane next chapter… and then there's some good ol' bounty hunter action later on in the season! I'm happy that this story provides a good pick-me-up! I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
lolistarkiller: It's funny that you bring up Dex, because I often think about him. About getting the crew down to Dex's for brunch or something. I definitely can see the place becoming a favorite of the clone trooper's; like, that's where he gets most of his business now. And it's definitely a place where Obi-Wan would probably retreat to in these troubling times––if he manages to find the time to do so. And Dex would probably pick up on the fact something was off; bro-talk with Dex time xD I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
Shadow Wolf 15846: Well… the tension broke… in not the best way, but it broke! But the likelihood of it returning? High. Very high. I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
thenerdnextdoor: I'm so glad you enjoyed the Yoda POV stuff! Because Obi-Wan and Elara are both Jedi, powerful, notable Jedi, it's impossible that Yoda and Mace wouldn't notice that something was up. That's where Anakin and Padmé have the advantage. They're not constantly working with one another in an aspect that the Council can take note of subtle differences. Obi and Lari may have the advantage of being subtle, but they're under a constant, watchful eye. Elara deserved that time to rest, good lord xD And her and the lads doing armor touch-ups, be still my heart, they're the cutest friends! I'm glad that the vent sequence provided some good emotional impact! I was like 'if they're stuck in an enclosed space, I'm gonna give them even more of a reason to hate it.' And Elara and Ani––ugh, if only they could just talk! But, as you say, she's sticking to her principles, to her guns. And Anakin is definitely so close to uncovering something… he's just stopped digging before he's hit the right point! I'm so happy that you enjoyed the last chapter; it felt really iffy to me at the moment, but after sitting on it, I don't think it was as iffy as I'd thought it to be. As always, it's lovely to hear from you! I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
camelotprincess1: Ahh, yes, Yoda questioning the Order! So, I've been looking for an opportunity to bring that up. I stumbled across an interview (which I keep meaning to post on my writing page) where Dave Filoni talks about it. Yoda, as the war progresses, realizes that the Jedi have started to lose their compassion; and he starts comparing that observation with what Qui-Gon had believed. And by the time we get to Yoda's vision of a perfect Jedi Temple, we can see that there's more heart and love and emotion present. It's such an interesting insight, so I've been itching to slip it into the story, 'cause it's imperative to the way things are gonna go down. And the last time Yoda and Elara really had a decent talk was before her Trials, yes! They've certainly got a unique relationship, and I'm having fun developing it in a post-teaching aspect. I hope you enjoyed my little delve into the Coruscant side of the Cad Bane search! I always wondered what that search would've looked like. And, ahh, the queen of angst! I shall take the title proudly xD And, believe me, I wanna lock them in a room together, too, but at this point… I don't think anything good would come of it. I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
Elizabeth: I love tying the narrative together with little snippets from earlier chapters. It helps me keep track of the wee but important moments. 'Cause the fixing of her tunic is such a small detail, but it means so much. It was the first time Obi-Wan slipped up. It was the first time Yoda really realized how serious this was getting. I love details, just love them, so I have fun doing callbacks to them! And I was really excited to talk about Yoda's shifting stance. As I mentioned in a couple other review replies, it's wholly based on a Filoni interview I stumbled on. It gave me an insight on Yoda that I'd never had before. I'd always seen him as a stickler for the Code, but then, upon listening to it, I was like… this being has so much love––love––for the Jedi Order, of course he'd want the best for it. He sees them becoming less compassionate, and he recognizes that maybe cordoning off all emotion isn't the way to go. And it just so happens that this canon (thank god) view of emotion and attachment assists in the continuation of this story. I was so excited to find that interview! Anakin's suspicion meter is definitely twinging. It's impossible not to realize that there's something more to this 'spat' that his sister and his mentor have had. And that bomb scene… ugh, it hurt everyone involved. Elara's definitely feeling the sting from it, but so is Obi-Wan. He wouldn't have reacted the way he did if it hadn't stung him just as badly. And I'm really happy that you're enjoying the more angst-y moments, too. I want to make sure I don't draw it out too long, but I know with these two, there's no quick fix to this situation. So I'm trying to vary the kinds of angst, make sure there's a depth to it that keeps things interesting. I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
And thank you to those that added this to their follows/favorites; it means a lot!
Next up is "Children of the Force"! We catch up with Cad Bane, get more Obi-Lara interaction, and maybe some Palps… And, soon enough, a wee bit of a chat may come into view. I hope you all enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again, y'all rock!
~Mary
