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.
47. Exemplary
Coruscanti nights were often temperate and calm. This was something Anakin had grown to be appreciative of. Sleep had become a precious commodity in this war, something that all who fought it craved more than ration bars. If it could be traded for favors, it would be the most popular currency in the Grand Army of the Republic. Whenever they got it, however, it rarely ever came peacefully. It was often accompanied by distant, rumbling explosions. It was terrible to admit, but Anakin became used to it. Though it had taken a while, he'd learned how to fall asleep to the whine of far-off blaster fire, as though it were some kind of macabre music. He'd learned to find rest in the most uncomfortable of places. On the ground or in a trench, in the ruins of what had been someone's home, or the hollow, smoking remains of a tank. He often sweat in his plastoid armor on humid planets, or shivered as the temperature sharply dropped with the fall of night.
That's what made moments like this so wonderful. There was no blaster fire, only quiet. No roughing it, just the comfort of a bed. And to make it all the better, Anakin was in the company of his loving wife. There weren't words to describe how marvelous this was. Though, sometimes, the quiet of the night was too much so. On occasion, that quietude prevented him from sleeping at all. It would set Anakin's nerves on edge in the fear that something would happen. That the peace would be broken by violence, or that it would all have been a dream. But Padmé––beautiful, compassionate Padmé––made that easier. Just her presence could soothe him. She chased the ghosts away. She was there to help calm his racing mind, and remind him that he was safe. That the war had not followed him here. This room was their safe-haven. No harm could come to them here. And after the snafu that was the holocron mission, being there with her was heavenly.
Anakin now lingered in the space between sleep and waking; that liminal place that could either be blissful or hellish. Thankfully, this liminality was pleasant. Padmé was elegantly draped over his chest, the weight and warmth of her body a comfort. One of his hands gently––tiredly––carded through the ends of her soft hair. A smile lingered in the corners of his mouth. Staying the night in the Senatorial Apartments was always risky. Though he always left early, there was always a chance that Anakin could get caught leaving. But he could easily explain away his presence if needed. Jedi visited Senators all the time, especially given the trying times. In perfect honesty, he would come up with any and all excuses if it gave him time with Padmé. They rarely got to see one another, so he cherished each of these moments like they were one of the most precious things in the whole of the galaxy. Especially ones like this, where everything was perfectly at peace, and all the complaints of his day melted into obscurity.
Just as Anakin was about to fully teeter into sleep, he was rudely awoken. And what awoke him was a terrible shock of pain, the likes of which he'd not experienced before. It burst into being inside his chest suddenly and unexpectedly. His eyes shot open and blew wide, and a shocked gasp ripped from between his teeth. The pain was so strong it caused him to jolt violently against the mattress, which jostled the sleeping woman on his chest.
Padmé made a sleepy, confused sound as she roused, head lifting from her husband's chest.
"Ani…?" she mumbled. She pushed herself up a little, one arm still splayed across his bare chest. She blinked at him in bleary concern as a broken, choked sound caught in the back of his throat.
Anakin fought to wedge his elbows beneath himself, desperate to sit up. As he did so, Padmé fell to the side. Once he was sat up, Anakin's hand grasped at his chest. Hard pants fell from his mouth as the painful sensation continued to ripple through his body. It felt like his heart was being torn in two. Like something was clawing and pulling at it, desperate to wrench it from within him. It was an all consuming pain. A sorrowful pain that brought tears to his eyes. It stole his breath from his lungs. Had his pulse pounding in his ears in roaring rushes. Instinctively, Anakin knew that this pain was not his own. This was not a physical ache that he, himself, was experiencing. This transcended that. It was deep and pulling, and it danced across his skin the way a disturbance in the Force did. And in his head he could hear the murmurings of voices, one flat and warm, the other passionate and breaking. The tone of both were familiar to him. And intuitively, he knew who this pain belonged to.
It belonged to Elara.
Delicate hands splayed out across his bare shoulders as Padmé sought to soothe his frantic nature. She was knelt beside his hunkered form, now, the mattress dipping between her knees and his hip. When she spoke, her voice was quavering. "Anakin, what's wrong?"
The sensation of feeling his sister's pain was overpowering. Tears brimmed in his eyes, and the only sound that left his throat was a choked noise of distress. In recent weeks Anakin had felt the undercurrent of his sister's emotions through the Force. But this… this was entirely different. It frightened him, because this feeling was all-consuming. It was something that could ruin a person; and Anakin was terrified of what might be happening to her.
"Elara…" he croaked out. Tears spilled from his eyes and fell over his cheeks in a hot rush. A shuddering breath pulled in through his mouth, and fled in a broken realization. "She's in agony…"
"What do you mean?" Padmé asked. One of her hands rose to dash at the tears on his cheek, and her voice continued to tremble in worry. "Anakin, what do you mean by that?"
The throbbing pain had subsided into an unpleasant, writhing crawl beneath his skin, worming its way through his body. It spurred him to move, no longer able to sit still. Anakin scrambled off the bed, pulling away from Padmé's gentle hands. His heart was thundering inside his chest, aching with every beat. A hollowness had started to burrow through his chest, a feeling just as frightening as the intensity of the pain. Once he was on his feet, Anakin frantically started to re-dress. His discarded tunic was snatched from the floor and yanked over his head. When he made a bee-line for his boots, Padmé shuffled to the foot of the bed. She reached out and seized his arm with both her hands, successfully halting his borderline manic movements.
"Anakin. What's happening?" she asked firmly.
He met her eyes with a bleary intensity. "I can feel her pain… I-I can feel how much she's hurting, a-and I have to go to her, I have to find her," he rambled. He blinked and a new rush of frightened tears spilled across his face. "I-I haven't felt like this since our mother died… I don't want to lose her, I can't lose her, Padmé…"
The concern that had been alight on her face grew tenfold. Padmé was well aware of the special bond that the Skywalkers held; that they were privy to one another's strongly felt emotions. That they could acutely sense when the other was in danger. Anakin would, on occasion, mention that he sensed Elara's discomfort. But it had never been anything like this. It had never been so intense. And he knew that Padmé did not care just for him and his distress. Elara was one of her dearest friends. It mattered to her if she was distressed, too. So it was no surprise when Padmé nodded, squeezed his forearm, and then proceeded to let it go.
Anakin hopped from foot-to-foot as he wormed his feet into his boots. All the while, tears continued to brim in and fall from his eyes. There was a true kind of terror in sensing someone's agony, but not knowing what caused it. A horrifying possibility rambled through his brain. Perhaps someone had finally come to claim the bounty on her head; it had been raised to a million credits, and the galaxy was an increasingly desperate place. If Bane could get into the Temple, who was to say another clever bounty hunter couldn't do the same? The idea had a burning anger ignite beside his fear. It had his expression tensing as he finally got his foot into one of his boots. If that were the case, that bounty hunter wasn't making it off planet alive. He'd surely incur a punishment from the Council, but he'd take it. No one was taking Elara away from him. The only thing that Anakin could take comfort in was that he knew that she was not dead. There had been no soul shattering implosion like the one he'd felt at their mother's death. But that didn't mean she wasn't grievously injured in some way, and that possibility was scarier than facing down a whole Separatist battalion.
Once Anakin was sufficiently re-dressed, he was out the door of Padmé's apartment without a word. He marched stealthlessly through the building, thanking the Force that there was no one to spot or question him. Even if there had been someone, he wouldn't have stopped to answer them. Everyone already thought he was hot headed. It would just give them proof. The tram was empty at this time of night, and though the ride between the Senatorial Apartments and the Jedi Temple was quick, it felt as though it took a lifetime. Anakin all but sprinted up the front steps, taking them two at a time. He tried to calm his mind enough to reach out for his sister's Force signature. When he found it, he flinched. It twinged injuredly, throbbed in sync with the pain he still felt in his chest. He used it as a waypoint. Let it guide him to her. The closer he got, the intensity of the pain in his chest increased again.
Where it guided him to was her room in the Jedi dormitories. Anakin anxiously and repeatedly pressed the button that activated the door-chime. He felt like he was vibrating. Like every atom in his body was trembling in anxiety, and it had him shifting back-and-forth on his feet. Once he'd pressed the button enough, he started to rap his metal knuckles against the door. They created the tinny sound of metal against metal. The injured throb of his sister's Force signature sat behind that door. Anakin was so close, and yet he was still barred from her. Just as he was about to resort to the use of the Force to get in, the door slipped open.
It opened just a little, just wide enough to allow a sliver of Elara's face to be seen. There was a tentative tilt to her eyebrow and a wary gleam in her pink-rimmed eye. The watery aspect of that eye made the blues of them look all the more like an ocean. The single corner of her mouth that Anakin could see was twisted into a frown. A short lived burst of relief slinked through his system. She wasn't physically injured, he realized––what she was suffering through was deep emotional turmoil. Anakin could feel it trembling around her in a dangerous wobble, almost like the choppy waves of a Kaminoan storm. It washed that spark of relief away swiftly and replaced it with another jolt of worry.
Upon seeing who was at her door, Elara's expression pulled into something more confused than distressed.
"Ani?" she asked softly. There was a slight rasp to her voice, which broke his already bruised heart. She had been crying. "What're you doing here?"
"Lari, let me in, please," he pleaded quietly. He watched as her face crumpled, the one eye he could see squeezing shut.
"It's… not a good time, Anakin––"
"I know it's not, that's why I want to come in."
Elara's eye snapped open and lifted to find his gaze. He held it and quirked his eyebrows towards his hairline pleadingly. After a moment, she disappeared from the doorway completely. Just as Anakin was about to sigh, mouth flopped open to call out to her––the door fully opened. He immediately slipped through the door, which swiftly whizzed shut behind him. Only a single lamp illuminated the room. It created a soft, warm glow that juxtaposed the dismal mood of the moment. Her boots were haphazardly hucked towards the window, like she'd thrown them there in frustration. Anakin turned towards his sister, who still faced the wall and the door's control panel.
Anakin reached out and gently grasped her shoulders, which jumped a little under his touch. He gently pressed on one and pulled on the other in a bid to turn her. Elara slowly allowed him to do so. Once she faced him, he gave her a thorough once-over. It confirmed that she was not bodily harmed, but it also confirmed that she had been crying, and crying quite hard. There was redness at the corners of eyes from where fingers rubbed the tears away. The skin of her cheeks were significantly flushed, which left her looking pale. Her eyes, pink and irritated, started to glass over as they met her brother's again. It was obvious she was struggling to maintain a relatively impassive expression. She was attempting to maintain the mask of the Jedi, and was failing. Anakin frowned sharply and squeezed her shoulders. His thumbs rubbed quick, comforting swipes over them. He could still feel the dull throb her aching heart within him.
"Elara…" he murmured. "What happened?"
All at once Elara's fragile demeanor shattered. And when it did, the pain in Anakin's chest ignited again. A choked sob tumbled from her mouth, her shoulders hunched forward, and a hand rose to hide her face. She was trying to make herself smaller. Trying to hide. If there was one thing that Elara had always been very particular about, it was people––him, specifically––seeing her upset. Always the one with the brave face, she never liked for people to see her break down. Especially him. Anakin knew that his sister had done her best to protect him from the harsh realities of the world when they were children. That had resulted in this, the desperate need to always seem alright all the time. She'd been made to grow up too fast. So this did not happen often. Typically it was Elara who was comforting him. The last time this situation had come about, their mother had just died. It wasn't often Elara became this upset over something.
Anakin pulled Elara into his arms wordlessly. She crumpled forward into his chest, and sobbed openly into the thin fabric of his tunic. He gathered her close and squeezed her tightly, which helped him channel the relief that she was physically unharmed. And, in a way, he hoped it would keep her from falling apart. Like he could hold her so tightly that she'd remain whole. Elara had stopped him from crumbling to pieces many times before. When pieces of him had tumbled to the ground, she'd pick them up and put them back where they belonged with gentle hands. Held him in her arms as the world shattered around him. What kind of brother was he if he couldn't do the same?
It pained him to see her like this. To feel one of the strongest women––one of the strongest people he knew shake against him like her world was coming to an end. It saddened him. It angered him. Because something had happened to incite this reaction. Someone or something had gone out of their or its way to do something to cause this pain. And Anakin did not take kindly to people or things that upset his sister in such a way. It made that ugly part of him threaten to rear its head, threaten to push him towards a dangerous edge where lines blurred. It was the same burning stirring he'd felt on Tatooine when Shmi had died in his arms, when Jabba had imprisoned Elara. It was a dangerous feeling. One that would drive him to do most anything; because no one did things like this to his family. He wouldn't let them.
Anakin felt the weight of Elara's body slump against him tiredly, using him as a support to keep herself standing. The violent shaking of her shoulders had subsided, as had her cries. But she made no move to separate herself from him. Shaky, audible breaths still hissed in and out of her mouth. He squeezed her tighter for a moment.
"C'mon…" Anakin murmured softly. He drew away enough to wrap an arm around her shoulders, and frowned as she continued to hide her face behind her hand. He proceeded to guide her the few feet across the room to her bed, where he then urged her to sit.
Elara dropped heavily to sit on the edge of her bed, like her knees had decided to give out as a result of exhaustion. It was only when she was seated that her hand fell away from her face. It revealed tear stained, harshly flushed cheeks and watery, red eyes. With a congested sniff and a shaky inhale, she finally met her brother's gaze.
"Will you… will you stay tonight?" she asked. There was a meekness to her voice that made her sound significantly younger than she was.
With a nod, one corner of Anakin's mouth twitched upwards. "I wasn't planning on leaving," he told her.
The faintest, quickest of smiles pulled across Elara's face. She then averted her gaze and shuffled backwards onto her bed until her back was pressed flush to its simple headboard. Both legs were drawn up to her chest in a gesture that came off as defensive. Made to protect herself from the world around her. One arm wrapped around her knees, and the other braced her elbow atop them, hand lifting to thread through her hair. Her gaze had become distant, and her mouth tense. Like she was reliving whatever it was had brought her to this state. It was clear, however, to Anakin that this was not something she was going to talk about. Not now, at least. It was too fresh, too sore. If he tried to prod her about it, she'd clam up tighter––and likely refuse to ever speak of it. What she needed now was to cry and rest. To expel the built-up tension the mystery incident had caused and find refuge in sleep.
Anakin proceeded to shrug off his robe, remove his belt, and pull off his boots, which he then deposited in a careless heap on the floor. All intricate layers had been left behind at Padmé's in his rush to ensure Elara's safety. He then moved to scooch onto the bed, worming his way up the bed till he sat beside his sister. He pressed his back flush to the headboard and they just sat there quietly for a while. Anakin then tenderly wrapped an arm around her, a silent, open invitation. A moment passed before Elara started to slump into him, shifting sideways until her head dropped onto his shoulder. He huddled her into his side and turned his head to press a kiss to the top of her head. Quietly, Anakin started to hum. A warm, mid-toned sound that rumbled in his chest pleasantly. It was a familiar tune, a song that Shmi had sung to them as children while brushing their hair or putting them to bed. It was something that had always brought them a great deal of comfort, even after they'd left Tatooine.
As the humming continued, the tension in Elara's body started to leech away. Her shoulders no longer hunched in on herself. Her legs and arms relaxed into more comfortable positions. The shuddering her breath would make every so often disappeared. It evened out into something much calmer. The lingering, stinging undercurrent of pain grew softer and lessened the more she relaxed. Still, Anakin continued to hum, a hand gently ghosting up-and-down one of her arms. Eventually, it became apparent that she'd succumbed to sleep, which was of no surprise. Whatever had happened had drained her both physically and emotionally. Once Elara had surrendered herself to rest, it had come to her easily.
But with his sister now asleep, Anakin had a chance to contemplate. He focused his gaze on the steady flow of speeder traffic he could see through the windows. It was a slow crawl of crafts at this time of morning, but it was borderline hypnotic. It helped put him in a sort of meditative state, where he could focus on deducing what might have happened. Whatever it was, it had caused Elara great emotional distress. Heartbreak, almost, given how strongly his chest had ached. It had felt as though someone had absolutely shattered her heart, trod on it violently until it broke into a million pieces. That was when something occurred to him. It had Anakin's eyebrows twitch together to form a faint furrow.
He had heard voices.
Through the soul shattering pain, he'd heard the murmuring of voices. Both had been familiar in tone to him––one had been Elara's, he'd known that immediately. That second voice, Anakin knew who it belonged to, too. In the moment, he'd been too overwhelmed by the pain to acknowledge it, but now, with his mind clearing, he was struck with a realization. That warm, even tone… the lilting intonations…
It had been Obi-Wan's voice.
What Anakin had heard mumbling through the Force was a conversation between Elara and Obi-Wan. He could not recall specific words, if there were any. But that didn't matter. What did matter was the realization that his mentor, a man whom Anakin implicitly trusted, had played a hand in Elara's heartrending distress. A heavy furrow puckered his brows and creased his forehead. A frown twinged at the corners of his mouth, wobbling there uncertainly. The conclusion that he'd just reached didn't seem right. It didn't feel right and yet––it must be. It was the only possible option, given the evidence he currently had.
It didn't feel right because this was Elara and Obi-Wan. For as contentious a start their relationship had, they'd overcome it with famous results. They were a remarkable pair. They worked together in a way so unique, one would be hard pressed to find any comparison. That, even Anakin had to admit it. It was a marvel to watch them work with one another, be it in combat or negotiations. And off the physical and verbal battlefield, they were remarkable friends. They always spoke as though they knew the other's mind perfectly. They sometimes shared tea in the mornings, and even meditated together at sunrise on the rare occasion. Anakin had seen them slowly walking the Temple grounds together, talking about stars knew what; likely anything from botany to his most recent snafu. It felt as though, in a way, they were always meant to be with one another in some sort of way. It had come to feel as though there were nothing that could come between them. And as the person who was closest to Elara, that was odd and… hard for Anakin to admit––that there was someone else in this galaxy that she might be fated to be so close to. But he could not picture one without the other anymore, and hadn't been able to for some time. Just as there was Elara Skywalker and Anakin Skywalker, there was Elara Skywalker and Obi-Wan Kenobi.
Which was what made this scenario so completely wrong. Anakin could not picture a reason or a situation where Obi-Wan would purposefully destroy Elara in any sort of way. Not even if threatened with death would he do something so cruel. Not to her, not to anyone. The two hadn't been on the best of terms as of late, but Anakin never would have expected it would result in this. It was confounding. Genuinely and truly confounding. This left him wondering what it was he was missing; what part of the equation he was not made privy to. He had suspected that there'd been more to their 'disagreement,' but he'd not expected it would've caused something so severe. It wasn't in either of their natures to let something like this drag on. Obi-Wan was "the Great Negotiator," and Elara, a wonderful negotiator herself, preferred to avoid conflict if at all possible. In the few times they'd ever disagreed before, it was handled with all the grace and poise of a diplomatic mission. Everything about the current situation was graceless and messy.
Anakin glanced down and over at Elara with a deepened frown. He thought back to the start of this mess, which had been a number of weeks prior; it had started out quietly but oddly enough. The playful banter between his sister and Obi-Wan had all but disappeared overnight. And, sure, at first the absence of snarky flirtation was a relief to him. But then it just felt… odd. It left expectant pauses in the air that felt unnatural when not filled. Then came the physical distance. Then, after Ryloth, complete avoidance. And now this. When Anakin had asked Elara the nature of their disagreement, she'd cited that Obi-Wan had believed her to be reckless. But it had become perfectly evident that this was not the basis of the contention. This was more. Much more.
Like one of the final pieces of a leisure puzzle falling into place, Anakin stumbled upon a potential conclusion. The severeness of his expression softened as he stared at his sister's sleeping form. This was all about heartbreak. Of course it was. How this had escaped his notice for so long was beyond him. The flirtatious banter was not just banter to Elara. The willingness to risk her life for Obi-Wan's was not just out of duty or kindness. It was because, quite possibly… she had developed feelings for him. A quietly huffed breath tumbled past Anakin's lips as the thought struck him. He turned his eyes, now blown wide, back to the window. It would explain why she'd been so out of sorts lately. Why he'd felt her trepidation rippling through the Force, why the tension had been growing between them. Elara must have been struggling with keeping those feelings hidden. And kriffing hell, she must have said something to him. And in true Obi-Wan fashion, he must have shot her down––thus the heart-shattering pain.
A whole myriad of emotion crashed over Anakin in that moment. Stunned confusion bloomed at the idea that Elara had somehow fallen for his former Master. Smarting anger shot through his body at the thought Obi-Wan had intentionally trod on his sister's emotions. And that was made worse because of how close he was to both siblings. If what Anakin suspected was true, then this was a betrayal of sorts, and that did not sit well with him. But before any of the acridness could bubble up and boil over, he had to force himself to take a deep breath. As of that moment, all these thoughts were speculation. Elara had not divulged what had happened, and until she did, he'd be left to wallow and wonder.
Anakin sighed heavily through flared nostrils, and again turned her attention back to his sister. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head before he allowed his own to recline against it. There was one thing he knew for sure, however: no matter what had happened, he would always stick to Elara's side.
OOOO
It had been the right thing to do. Of that Obi-Wan was sure. And yet there was a burning, blistering sensation deep in the recesses of his heart that screamed he was going to regret it for the rest of his life.
Such a thought had been rambling through Obi-Wan's head for hours. The events of the night prior had haunted his restful hours, and prevented him from sleeping well. Flashes of the shattered look in Elara's eyes had his own flying open. The vulnerable warmth of her voice had hummed in his ears like a siren song, and that had prevented him from finding solace in silence. All night some deeply emotional part of himself had rioted, rattled the bars it was confined behind, and demanded he make amends. Swore and threatened and promised that he wouldn't rest well until he righted the wrong he had done. Sure enough, before Obi-Wan knew it, the sun was rising brilliantly and beautifully over Coruscant––and he stared at it as though it were the most unremarkable thing he'd ever seen.
Obi-Wan sat on the edge of his bed, hands limply hanging between his knees, feeling hopelessly and strangely numb. He lifted a hand to scrub the heel of his palm against one tired eye, his brows furrowing heavily. Apathy was not an emotion he was particularly acquainted with. Despite his unfamiliarity with it, he felt it weighing down his limbs, sitting heavily inside his chest. It was a sorrowful, hollow feeling. A terrible sensation. He still had the ability to feel things––the scratch of his blankets against his hands, the tickle of hair as it flopped against his forehead. But there was an absence of something within him that felt wrong. Like someone had removed a vital organ and his body was now struggling to function without it. This was not what the result of the previous night should have been. Obi-Wan should feel as though a weight had been taken off his shoulders; not that more had been piled atop them. It seemed as though what he had hoped would give him a chance to breathe had just cut off the rest of his air-supply.
You're going to regret that for the rest of your life.
Tired eyes blinked at the cityscape beyond his windows. The morning was beautiful. The sky glowed gold, and sunbeams glanced off windows like starbursts. It was the kind of view that Elara would call beautiful, but would then say that there was no rival to the rise and fall of the suns on Tatooine. But she'd smile into that golden light nonetheless and bask in its warmth. And for that reason, it felt like it was mocking him. Because, to Obi-Wan, it reminded him of everything he must now deny himself––you're going to regret that for the rest of your life––for the good of… what, exactly? With a heavy sigh, his head dropped to hang between his shoulders. The night before, it had all seemed so clear to him. The 'why' had made sense. It was for the good of their reputations, to protect what it was they'd both accomplished. The reasoning had seemed so simple, so sound… and now it didn't. Because what good could it have done if this was how it made him feel?
Obi-Wan had been so sure of reasoning. It had seemed to him the only viable option left open to them. In order to once again get to where they had been prior, they must first overcome their attachment. A great leap forward first required two steps back, after all. He had been so confident that they'd regain their camaraderie and friendship. It was the only way forward. For pursuing their attachment would surely lead them to ruin. It would bring them nothing but pain and misery. But this, what he was experiencing now… this was what he'd believed ruin would feel like. Obi-Wan felt empty and unsure, small and shockingly fragile. There was an ache in his chest, centralized over his heart, throbbing painfully with each pulse of it. It felt as though it had been lacerated. Like every beat of it might be its last. One of his hands migrated to that spot on his chest, gently rubbing at it in the vain hope that it woulds assuage the pain. This could not be what success felt like, he mused. And if it was… he was unsure if he wanted to be successful anymore.
Obi-Wan's eyes fell shut against the morning sunlight, bathing his world in a hazy darkness. Against that darkness, scenes of devastation played. The look of worried surprise Elara offered upon his appearance in the hangar. The hope that had shone in her eyes as she grabbed his hands… the pain that worked across her face as he denied that anything more could happen between them. He had stood there and watched her heart shatter. Let the pieces fall at his feet as he pretended to be indifferent. He'd done it while he clung to her hands, his body desperately begging him not to do this. Despite the forced countenance, he'd been anything but that; for as each piece of her broken heart fell, a piece of his crumbled away, too. For no matter how hard Obi-Wan tried to ignore it, they inexplicably connected. And he cared for her so much that her pain was his pain… and that pain was made all the worse when he already shared it.
One of the things that Obi-Wan had wished to spare Elara of was pain. He'd convinced himself, somehow, that dealing this blow was a necessary evil. A moment of pain to spare them a lifetime more of it. Instead, it seemed to condemn him to what already felt like an eternity of it. Though only several hours of sunlight had passed, Obi-Wan felt like the sun had been hanging in the sky for a decade. A painful, endless, distressing decade. He was already starting to grey at the temples, and he feared that this morning might've caused all of his hair to go prematurely white. He had done what he'd desperately hoped not to do, and the guilt was gnawing away at him, chewing on his bones and tearing at the sinew beneath his flesh.
You're going to regret that for the rest of your life.
The statement rambled through his head again and inspired him to groan. It was a deep, tortured sound. For he was starting to believe that voice. He very well may regret what he had done for the rest of his life. Because not only had he hurt Elara, he had potentially destroyed one of the best relationships he'd ever maintained. He had squashed it carelessly under foot without truly weighing the consequences. Obi-Wan had been so focused on how this might help them, he hadn't thought about how it could sabotage them. How this 'help' would actually be a hindrance. He feared, now––genuinely, truthfully feared––that there could be no coming back from this. That things had fractured so badly there'd be no rearranging the pieces back into something comprehensive. There would be no more warm, quiet moments at sunrise. No more evenings in the cool darkness, sipping at tea. No sharing of ideas. No blindly beautiful smiles or covertly rolled eyes. Instead, there would be mornings like this: long and insufferable. Lonely evenings with tea that had gone cold because he'd made too much of it. Solitary thinking sessions. Sternly set lips and guarded eyes that wouldn't meet his.
It had been made obvious to him that these feelings he had, they were returned. What he longed for, Elara had longed for, too. The closeness. The stolen moments. The secret smiles and fleeting touches. Obi-Wan allowed himself a torturous moment to indulge a thought, a pondering––if that was what she longed for, did she also long for to tuck her head into the crook of his neck? To wake up as they did on Florrum, with the sensuous caress of skin against skin? To hold him as he'd wished to hold her, to share her mind with him as he so desperately wished to share his with her? But these were questions he had revoked the right to ask; a revocation that he'd imposed on himself. A torture he had forced upon himself in a desperate effort to regain control of a situation that both terrified and enthralled him. One that he'd been told he could never enjoy, no matter how badly his heart longed for it.
A shuddering breath left Obi-Wan's mouth. His nose crinkled. Eyebrows furrowed. Lips twisted.
You're going to regret that for the rest of your life.
A single droplet of water––a single tear––fell and spattered against the linen of his trousers. It formed a small damp circle atop his knee. Yes, he thought, I am going to regret that for the rest of my life.
OOOO
When Elara awoke, her head was pounding. There was an uncomfortable pressure in her nasal passages and her eyes felt as though they were glued shut. Her limbs felt like they'd been filled with duracement. Tired eyebrows slowly knitted together at her overall discomfort. A quiet, crackling groan rasped in the back of her throat, and she slowly shifted against her mattress. Her arms and legs drew weightily against it as she pulled herself into a tightly curled ball. Both arms clumsily rose to clamp over her head, blocking the warm sunlight that shone across her closed eyelids. Elara knew that she hadn't fallen off of a moving speeder, but it certainly felt like it. The last time that had happened, she'd felt much the same, just with more… aches and pains. Not that those were absent. There was still that wounded throbbing inside her chest that accompanied her heart like a sorrowful metronome.
The events of the night before flooded back nearly immediately. It inspired another groan, this one a hair more sorrowful than the last. Elara folded in on herself further, chin and knees tucking in towards her chest. She could recall every detail of what had happened in the hangar perfectly. From the acrid smell of shuttle fuel to the pressure of Obi-Wan's hands as he clung to her own. How she'd walked through the Temple, fighting off tears until she was in the safety of her own room. She remembered Anakin showing up at her door with wide, terrified eyes; and she remembered how he'd just held her as she cried, and cried, and cried––which was why her eyes felt so swollen. Why she was so congested. She hoped beyond all hope that there would be no strategy meetings or mission briefings today. It didn't seem as though she'd have the energy to suffer through those.
"I made tea," the familiarity of Anakin's voice announced. There was a slight tap-tap-tap of what must've been a spoon against the rim of a teacup.
With markedly more effort than it should have taken, Elara pulled her head out from under her arms and peeled her eyes open. They immediately scrunched shut again, as the light from the windows blinded her. With a huffed third groan, she rolled herself over, putting her back to the brilliant morning sunlight. Only then did she endeavor to peel her eyes open. She was greeted by the sight of Anakin bent over her desk, fussing with her Gleannish tea set. His under tunic was sleep rumpled, pressed with awkward creases, and was untucked from the waistband of his trousers. Even in profile there was a furrowed, determined look on his face as he carefully stirred something into a teacup. Anakin glanced up and over at her with a small smile.
"I think I did it right this time," he said.
That comment caused the corner of her mouth to briefly lift. Tea had never been Anakin's thing; while he appreciated a good cup, he just didn't know how to make it well. And in the times he had tried to make it for her, he'd never gotten the steeping time correct. With a lethargy to her motions, Elara sat herself up. Her hair fell in messy waves around her face, and her hands went from rubbing her eyes to sweeping it back behind her ears. Anakin crossed the room with a teacup in hand, and once she was sat cross-legged atop the bed, he passed it over to her.
"Thanks." Her voice was raspily quiet, fallout from all the crying she'd done the night before. She watched steam curl elegantly off the surface of the hot tea, dancing through the air with a natural grace. After a moment, she brought the cup to her lips, blew across it gently, and took a sip. The liquid was hot enough to nip at her lips with a slight burn, but it didn't scald. As the sip washed over her tongue, she nodded a little. "It's good."
Anakin beamed, obviously proud. It was good… it just was just a little weak. He'd hadn't steeped it quite long enough. But he hadn't gone overboard on sugar this time, which was appreciated. Elara took a second sip as her brother, with his own cup in hand, approached the bed again. He sat himself down carefully across from her, wincing as the tea inside his cup sloshed around concerningly. None of it spilled, however. And he said nothing. The two of them were quiet for a while, sipping at their tea and sitting in the wam patch of sunlight that stretched across the mattress. It was a beautiful morning, Elara noted; but something in her observed it in a rather melancholy way. Because there was always a warmth to sunrises and morning sunlight that she associated with Obi-Wan. And, quite suddenly, the warmth of it all had cooled off quite a bit.
"How do you feel this morning?" Anakin asked eventually.
Elara scoffed a little. Her eyebrows arched towards her hairline. "Like I just got caught in a sandstorm for several hours." While her body felt like it had toppled out of a speeder, her head felt just as described. She had been caught unawares and unprepared in a sandstorm many times before, and it always left her feeling absolutely horrific afterwards.
There was a moment of pause, a brief stint of quiet. And then, with a little sigh, Anakin asked, "What happened?" The question had Elara bowing her head, a hand lifting to scrub at her forehead. Anakin shuffled forward awkwardly on the bed, trying not to spill tea as he did so. Once his knees were close enough to brush against hers, he craned his head forward in an attempt to catch her gaze. "Remember that time I shoved all those rocks in the exhaust ports of Sebulba's speeder? He caught me and I bolted, trying to outrun him as fast as I could… but I fell and I scraped up my hands pretty bad. When I got home you asked me what had happened, and I didn't say anything. I didn't want to, I was too scared you'd be upset with me. And then… when you were cleaning the sand out of the cuts… I told you. And you weren't mad." A smile flashed across his face. "You just told me not to do it unless you were around to help. I knew, right then, that I could tell you anything. That I didn't have to lie. And… you know that goes both ways, right?"
A sigh, gently pained, fled Elara's lips. It hurt that the question had been asked genuinely. That it was clear some part of him worried that she didn't know that anymore. So she nodded, expression screwing up as she tumultuously mulled over how to go about this. The emotional, invisible wounds she'd received the night before were still stinging. They were tender and bruised. Not only that, but the seriousness of what had happened was not lost on Elara. She had all but openly admitted what she felt for Obi-Wan; and his reaction had only reminded her of how dangerous that admittance was. There was also a part of her that feared what Anakin's reaction to it would be. Obi-Wan was, after all, his mentor and his best friend. Surely finding out that his sister harbored feelings for said man would have him feeling… odd, to say the least.
She lifted her head, eyes rolling ceilingward as though that would prevent the rise of tears in them from falling. A shaky breath fled her mouth. But not talking of this wasn't possible. Anakin had felt what she had experienced. He knew that whatever had happened wasn't a minor inconvenience, or a passing flash of annoyance. This was something serious. He was tremendously loyal to and protective of his loved ones; he would poke and prod at her––gently, at first––until she wound up telling him. That was just his way of going about things. Since it was unavoidable, all that was left to do was find the right words to use.
"I suppose it's… no secret that things between Obi-Wan and I have been less than… amiable," she started quietly. When his name had fallen from her mouth, it had cracked in the middle, breaking over a well of emotion in the back of her throat. "I… hate to admit I didn't tell you the truth before you left for Felucia, but… I… didn't know what to say. We've formed such a––a family here that I didn't want you to fear you'd no longer have that…" Elara couldn't prevent the way her expression twisted sharply, crinkling at the eyebrows and screwing up her nose. Her eyes squeezed shut and tears rolled along her cheeks. With a displeased huff, she dashed them away with the back of her hand and shook her head at herself. A shaky breath rattled her chest as it pulled in through her teeth. "I don't think even I realized how… poorly things would go…"
There was a moment of pause.
"Obi-Wan did this?" the question was stiff. Unhappy. Elara shifted her gaze to meet Anakin's and found his expression tensely drawn. There was flatness to the line of his lips, a disconcertingly soberness to the unwrinkled aspect of his brows… a hazed-over gleam in his eyes that thinly veiled a world of anger behind them.
Elara's heart cramped at that look. With what felt like the thousandth sigh, she set her teacup on the small table beside her bed, and then did the same with Anakin's. She slipped her hands into his and squeezed them tightly.
"In this matter, I fear the both of us are to blame," she told him. And in some way, Elara believed this. He had caused this heartache, yes… but if she had not been so attached to him, this would not have happened. "We… have become very close. There was a familiarity between us that I have enjoyed for many years, and… I now fear that it's come to an end."
Anakin's dangerously sober expression melted into a furrowed confusion. Blue eyes blinked at her, and he then scooted forward until their knees were pressed together. Their clasped hands rested in the cradle of their crossed ankles. "What… what do you mean by that?"
That annoying sting had returned to Elara's nose and threatened the build of more tears. Stars did she hate crying…
"It would seem that Obi-Wan and I view… attachment in its various forms very differently. As I'm sure you know, as he was your teacher. He is of the opinion that he and I have become… too close. Too familiar. He said as much last night when he sought me out. He… wishes for us to find a way to overcome it, to find a… solution that will allow us to still remain colleagues." A rueful smile flashed across Elara's face. She dropped her gaze to her hands, where they were firmly clasped in her brother's. He wasn't wearing the glove he usually donned to cover his mechno-arm; she slipped her thumb over the mechanized joints softly. "It has come to a point where I can't picture my life without him in it, as he has been… as a… confidant and a friend… and it… absolutely broke my heart when he told me he no longer wished for that familiarity…" Traitorous tears started to cascade over her cheeks, then. "He called it trivial… and instructed me not to throw my life away for it…"
It was quiet for a long moment. The stretch of morning sunlight had shifted across the bed slightly, now bathing both siblings in its full intensity. It almost felt stifling, Elara noted. She'd started to feel overheated, uncomfortable even in the thin linen of her under tunic and trousers. But that could also be due to the rise of emotions, of how intensely she was trying to hold them back. What she had said was not the whole truth by any means. But it was all she was willing to divulge to him. It was enough of it to satiate Anakin's worried curiosity, and enough to get some of the weight off of her chest. He had always been someone she'd confided in; and to be able to tell him about this––even if it was only from a certain point of view––made her feel a little better.
"Don't listen to him," Anakin said softly. Elara looked up to find him staring at her intently. He squeezed her hands with a desperate tightness and shook them a little. "Don't listen to him, Lari. He's a smart man, but… he's wrong. Attachment isn't bad, it… it's beautiful. It's what makes you so unique and powerful as a Jedi; you care about everyone, even those that aren't deserving of your kindness. Even those that would do you harm. For him to ask you to squash that part of you is…." his face screwed up in what could only be described as disgust, "wrong. I-I don't understand why he's doing this… you've bettered him in your kindness to him. He's a better Jedi for it. Surely he knows that…"
Elara stared at her brother with wide, watery eyes. His voice had grown more impassioned as he spoke. His words were a defense and a compliment, one that struck her with a deep intensity. The aching in her chest lessened some, almost as though he had mended some of her heart with just his use of language. With his passion and his love. Suddenly, she was no longer overwhelmed by the wake of heartbreak––she was overwhelmed by the onslaught of love Anakin was offering her.
"Ani…" she murmured, unsure of how to respond.
"Promise me that you won't listen, Elara," he pleaded. "Find the path that leads you through this and allows you to remain true to yourself. Obi-Wan will come to realize the error he has made; until then, be the exemplary Jedi you've become, and prove him wrong."
Exemplary.
Elara had not mentioned the usage of that word the night before, how it had stung her. In the way that Obi-Wan had used it, it suggested that her being an exemplary Jedi rested on her renouncing her views on attachment. The way Anakin used it, however, urged the opposite. It suggested that her being exemplary relied on her unique views. On her kindness and her empathy. It was what made her a unique Jedi. It was who she was, and who was she, or anyone, to deny that? A small spark of resolve started to bud in the pit of her stomach. This was not something that she could let get to her; because if it did––there'd be no coming back from the ruin it led her to. There were no words that could properly express the relief and appreciation that her brother's words brought. So what she did was pry her hands from his, shift up onto her knees, and hug him tightly. The embrace was returned with equal ferocity, his arms squeezing her as though it would also convey everything he couldn't say. They stayed like that awhile, wordlessly enjoying one another's comfort.
And then Anakin said:
"Do you miss pod-racing?"
The switch in conversation topic was so bizarre that it took Elara a moment to realize she hadn't imagined it. It wasn't some emotion-addled auditory hallucination. She sat back on her heels and gaped at him in confusion.
"What?"
"Pod-racing. Do you miss it?"
"No, not at all," she vehemently replied. "Those crafts were death traps at best, we nearly died every time we raced."
Anakin shrugged as though that were inconsequential. There was a sly look in his eyes that she didn't quite understand, especially given the conversation they'd just had. "How about speeder races?"
The races in question weren't formalized. They were fun, covert little things that kids on Tatooine participated in. Slave children, mostly. They'd take whatever dusty, old speeder bikes their masters had allowed their families to have and raced them across the desert landscape. These were reserved for older children––those in their teenage years––so Anakin had never participated. But Elara had on a couple occasions. And she'd even won a few of those times, too. Of the Skywalkers, she'd been the one in charge of bringing goods back and forth between townships for Watto. She had been, and still was, a remarkable pilot. Though it wasn't something she often said about herself, nor was it something she wholly believed. It had always been her wholehearted belief that Anakin was the best pilot out of the two of them, downplaying any tricks and successes she'd ever had.
"I mean… sure, but why bring this up now?" Elara asked, brows knitting together.
Anakin shifted to sit on the edge of the bed with another shrug. He glanced at her over his shoulder with the starts of a smile starting to twitch at the corners of his mouth.
"Well, you and I haven't raced against each other in years… and it might be… a good way to get your mind off of things?" he suggested.
Elara blinked at him. Her eyelashes were still wet with tears, and they brushed coldly across the tops of her cheeks. When things in the galaxy had been calmer, before the advent of the war, the two of them would go out and race one another. Anakin had always plugged the excuse of it being 'an exercise to hone his reflex skills.' Elara had always been quite frank and truthful with Yoda if he asked, knowing that he'd figure out the truth of it anyways.
"You… are you suggesting that we race speeders across Coruscant?"
"No! No, we'll get reprimanded for that. Not fun with the traffic, anyways. What I'm suggesting is that we take two starfighters out and race them over Coruscant," Anakin corrected.
A wheezed, raspy, disbelieving laugh rattled out of Elara's throat. She shook her head and threaded fingers through her rumpled hair.
"Anakin, we can't just… take ships out without authorization. We'd receive a heavier punishment for that than racing speeders."
"Well, luckily for us the 501st had two starfighters that needed repairs, and now that they're fixed… they need a test flight." A slow grin, boyish and hopeful, started to pull across Anakin's face. "Who better to test them than two Jedi Generals who also happen to be pod-racing veterans?"
It was probably a bad idea. If they got caught racing instead of just doing a routine flight-check, they could be reprimanded. And yet… there was something incredibly alluring about the prospect. Of getting to hop in a starfighter without a mandate to follow, to just gun the engines, follow their own paths, and go. To have this time with Anakin, time that had been so hard to come across in recent days. It was a chance to forget everything that had happened for a little while and start to recuperate. To, at its simplest, have fun. Allow her mind to be occupied by something that wasn't so weighty and life-altering. To allow some levity back into her life, and enjoy something again.
With the smallest of smiles, Elara shifted to sit on the edge of the bed beside him.
"Only if I get to pick which fighter I fly," she conceded.
The biggest grin split across Anakin's face. "Sure thing. You are older after all." Her elbow sailed weakly into his ribcage. With a faint chuckle, he looped his arm around Elara's shoulders. The smile on his face waned into something markedly softer. He ducked his head and pressed his lips to the top of her head. "It's going to be okay, Lari."
Elara closed her eyes and relaxed into Anakin's one-armed embrace. "I hope it will be, Ani. I hope it will be."
Afterword: Finally delving back into Anakin's POV was a great joy; I'd tried in other chapters prior to this, but they never worked (it was clearly not the right time). But this felt right. A multi-POV chapter in the aftermath of hitting rock bottom… an emotional doozy. But I hope it was an enjoyable emotional doozy!
Review Replies!
RemiSparklez: Ahh, thank you so much! Last chapter was one of those 'oh my god we're here' points, so I wrote over that last scene at least half a dozen times. I'm happy that you enjoyed it and all its emotional turmoil! We got the first taste of emotional backlash in this chapter… we got to see Ani dealing with it, Obi suffering over it, and Lari trying to come to terms with it. I cannot wait to play with their respective reactions in the upcoming chapters! No Acks this chapter… but he'll end up in the know for sure. And OH will the side-eye be legendary. I also wanna get Cody in on this. I've had a clone-centric POV planned for a while now that'll include his thoughts… And the bounty stuff is nigh! It once again takes a wee backseat with everything happening, but now that Bane's brought it up… the Council can't really ignore it anymore. I'm still planning on shooting you that PM (hopefully tonight)! Some of those stories (like the LotR one) have been gathering dust for years, and it's kinda exciting to have someone so interested in them :) I hope that you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
MsRosePetal: Trust me, I'm hurting my heart, too! There's nothing I want more than for these dorks to be together… but they just have to be the most stubborn Jedi alive, don't they? And Obi-Wan's really facing the backlash of his own actions already… I can promise you that the soul-wrenching pain is subsiding, now. They really smashed into rock bottom, but they're climbing their way back up. I promise things'll be a little… softer. Tense, but softer. I hope that you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
WaywardandWanderlust: It would've been so nice if the last chapter was the 'happily ever after' kind of chapter. But these two… that's a long ways off on a very rocky, very windy, very long and fraught road. Luckily for them though, a lot of that road isn't terrible, horrible pain. Just… Star Wars canon xD I hope you enjoyed the Ani stuff this chapter! It was a whole lot of fun to write! I hope that you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
DCDGojira: Thank you! I hope you enjoyed the chapter!
RJNorth: The Way was unfortunately rocky in the last chapter! And it's still rocky… but it's getting a little better. A little. I'm glad that the heartbreak of the moment was portrayed realistically; I was worried that it would end up being melodramatic, so I'd hoped I hit some kind of good balance there. Also, I hadn't thought about the clones in their respective battalions taking sides when they see how things have changed between their Gennys… I kinda like that. It would show that these things have more wide-spread effects than they'd like to think. And Ani… sweet, sweet Ani… that poor boy is just constantly in fear that his loved ones are in horrific trouble. I hope you enjoyed all the panicked Ani goodness in this chapter––I had a lot of fun getting back into his POV. And Obi-Wan is certainly reaping the rewards of his behavior. He's only just now being struck with how badly he might've messed up. We're finally entering territory where the bounty comes more into play… and I have such plans. Elara will have such plans. And I think that Elara, though she understood Obi-Wan would shoot down the proposal of a relationship––actually having it happen hit her much harder. But she handled herself well… poor girl. I hope that you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again, and may the Force be with you!
bambam411: The warning window for Palps and Ani's weird mentorship deal has definitely closed. And Elara kinda senses that. Doesn't mean she won't, eventually, try and tell him of her worries… just means that Anakin's gonna probably shrug those off. I had fun with Bane lording the knowledge of Elara's bounty over her head! And I'm glad you enjoyed the image of her looming over him. It's one of those moments where I was like 'if this were real canon, actually produced as part of TCW… this would be the moment where the darker scoring comes in. Where we see that sliiiight pull to the Dark that all the Skywalkers are sadly predisposed to.' It was so fun to write! I hope that you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
GreyMemories: Oh, nooo! I'm sorry that you were up so late having to deal with the horrible aftermath of the previous chapter (but I'm glad that you did enjoy the chapter)! The last chapter was certainly a doozy, and writing the aftermath of it in this chapter was also quite precarious to figure out. I'm super excited for Hondo to come waltzing back in a couple chapters! He'll be welcomed with open arms and a lot of sass. I hope that you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
zikashigaku: Poor Anakin had no idea what to think when he felt all that pain. Writing him feeling her emotions the way she did when Shmi died was… such a cool mirrored moment to me. Now we have to deal with him knowing that Obi-Wan is the cause of his sister's distress… woof. And we'll have to see if Yoda and Windu notice a change… and if they do, what they think of it. And it's also a matter of time before Palps shows his conniving face. Oh joy. I hope that you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
Duchess of Lantern Waste: Well, you asked for aftermath-Obi-POV––I hope you enjoyed it, and all of the emotional turmoil that came rushing in with it. That man… has only just now realized that he might've effed everything up. Now he's gotta figure out how he's gonna go about fixing it. I hope that you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
Isabelnecessaryonabicycle: These poor Jedi dorks are too overwhelmed by emotion, too! But things'll be better soon. I swear it! I hope that you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
MalirBly: Ahhh, I'm so glad you enjoyed the previous chapter! For as turmoil-heavy these chapters have been, they have been fun to write. I hope that you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
weasleylover10: I've been dying to write the moment with the baby for so long. Once I discovered that this was the place to use it, I was like 'ohoho, it's definitely what scares Obi-Wan into trying to shut this whole deal down.' 'Cause just like when Elara saw him with Numa… him seeing her with the little Rodian child made him feel ~some type of way.~ And Obi-Wan is a man of words… he knows what words will get a reaction out of people. And trivial. Oof, did he use the weight of that word to his advantage. And the removing of his head from his own ass has started… finally! I hope that you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
Guest: I could totally see something like that happening! A little seed of a moment that would give way to his being so high-ranking come the OT!
northernfiction: When I went back to see how I'd written Elara experiencing Anakin's major emotions, I got to re-read Obi-Wan's reaction to it. How he'd comforted her and was just… so lovely… and ugh I cannot wait to return to that! I hope that you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
Nerdette92: Rock bottom has been reached… the only way to go is up! We've already got the starts of it––Obi-Wan realizing that he's gonna regret what he's done, and Elara strengthening her resolve to not let this get the best of her. It's gonna be a fun climb back to the top! I hope that you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
Pinnney: The heartbreak on Elara's face in that moment is going to haunt Obi-Wan for the rest of his life. Even once things get better… he's always going to live with the knowledge he caused that look. Bane always looks for a good opportunity… and now that he thinks breaking into the Jedi Temple is easy? He might be eyeing that bounty a little more seriously… It's always good to hear from you, on here and on Tumblr! I hope that you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
thenerdnextdoor: Ahh, I'm so glad you enjoyed the last chapter! I really wanted to make their talk have the realistic ups-and-downs that a conversation like that can have. Where you instinctively know the outcome, but there are moments where you just hope that you can turn it around. Only to be left absolutely shattered in the wake of it because you couldn't. The hand holding thing came to me as I was writing that mini-logue and was like 'YES, THIS.' Because it just seems like a perfect display of their situation––logically, Obi-Wan is trying to step away, but his subconscious is telling him not to, so he's clinging to her. Elara's trying to sway him with her words, with her logic… but she knows it won't work, so she's clinging to him in her desperate bid to convince him otherwise. Ani and Lari. The best sibling duo in the galaxy. And I've always had this idea in my head that the reason the Council is so okay with them being so close is because they're the Chosen Ones meant to bring balance to the Force. If they were to force them apart, it would surely throw things out of balance. In a way… they're letting them maintain their relationship out of fear. And OHMYGOD the 'Deception' arc in Season 4… oh, I'm so (sadistically) excited for it. I have such plans for those episodes. Elara's final clap-back to Obi-Wan was the last of the strength she had that evening. There was no way she was leaving that situation without leaving him a little stung. And oof when they finally are in a good enough place to talk about what happened… godspeed, Obi-Wan, you're going to need it. I'm glad you're excited for all the OG content, and hope you enjoyed the first bit of it with the Ani-Lari stuff! Again, always wonderful to talk with you! And I hope that you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
mirasecret: So I have extensively thought over that question. My answer has/thoughts have developed a lot over the years. Without giving anything away, I can say that there'll be definite issues. They're both so strongly connected emotionally and through the Force, that there's going to be some major adjustments that have to happen by the time the end of Ep. III crops up. I hope that you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
Vanafindiel: I pondered putting in a brief flashback/cut-away for Obi-Wan's thoughts on the very end of the last chapter, but it didn't work quite right in this one. But I think that we'll get more rumination from him on what happened once he manages to pull himself up by his bootstraps and try and soldier on. Especially once he and Elara are inevitably thrust into another mission together. And, in a way, this whole situation is lingering on what Darth Carus had said. She'd warned Elara to kill her heart… but Carus is a Sith Lord. Could the suggestion to do so be meant to trick her down the path to the Dark Side? Because, for Elara, Light lives in love, though Jedi belief believes the opposite. It's entirely possible that Carus tried to trick her into following the ways of the Jedi to lead her down the path of the Sith… But I'm glad that you recalled Carus' words in this moment! They're something that's always lingering in the back of Elara's mind… I hope that you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
LoveFiction2021: They've definitely fallen into the Pit of Despair. Here's to hoping they pull themselves out of it soon! I hope that you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
PhAnToM 1212: Last chapter was heart-wrenching to write… but oh-so sadistically fun. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, as you did the last! Thanks again!
Shadow Wolf 15846: They're working their way up from rock bottom, I promise you! I hope that you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
PrettyRecklessLaura: Ahh, thank you! I hope you enjoyed the chapter!
Elizabeth: I cannot tell you how excited I got when you said that them stumbling into one another struck you so much! That was my hopeful intent. Because they've always worked together so gracefully that now that they're in the throngs of distress… they can't maintain that anymore. They also really desperately still want to talk about Ryloth… because they still haven't. Obi-Wan made a veiled reference to it, but there was no discussion about what actually happened. And hoo-boy––it's gonna be a doozy when they finally get to talk about it. Obi-Wan is definitely feeling it right now. He's, as you said, struggling to be honest with himself; because behind honest would be admitting what he feels, and what he feels scares him. But now he's being forced to be honest with himself. To acknowledge how his stubbornness has negatively influenced the situation. And poor Elara… she loves so wholly and so freely that to have the man that she really, genuinely loves be so indifferent about it… ugh, it hurt her so bad. And now she has to learn how to handle the aftermath of it. And I've always thought that a lot of Anakin's ideals were formed by Tatooine, so I figured that Elara's would be too. Perhaps even more so, as she's older and spent more of her life there. Tatooine has always… fascinated me. I love dragging it into the story whenever I can. And civility does approach! They just have to get over that awkward little bump that is their fist seeing one another after The Incident. And maybe Obi-Wan will start taking those chances… I hope that you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again! (also, I'm so ready for the Mandalore arc, I'm so excited it's coming up soon!)
camelotprincess1: Yeah, the arc of the last chapter was certainly a downwards one, wasn't it? A little levity with Elara's thoughts on the airlock… a little hope with Obi-Wan being protective and going all soft over her and the baby… and then it all crashed and burned. I hope that the sneak-peak lived up to your excitement! I had a blast getting to write Ani's POV again! And poor Obi-Wan cannot dampen his love and concern for Elara when it comes down to it, no matter how hard he tries. And the bounty stuff is coming to a head; the Council can't really set it aside anymore. Especially not when the only being in the galaxy who has broken into the Temple knows about it. Also… the baby moment… (foreshadowing? Perhaps…) One of the things about The Conversation that made it so painful, I think, is that they did both have valid points. Obi-Wan is correct in saying that they need to find a solution because if they don't, they're screwed. But Elara is also correct in pointing out the ideals of the Jedi are aging and problematic. This is what we get when two master negotiators fall in love, isn't it? And the hand holding… ugh, they don't really wanna let go! And Acks is gonna find out sooner or later. And he's going to be… highly displeased. I hope that you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
Time Travel Maniac: Elara deserves, like… a vacation to the Naboo lake country. Just her, a private villa, good literature, and a comfy bed to sleep in. Poor girl keeps getting put through the ringer. I'm so glad you particularly enjoyed that last part of the previous chapter! I'm a huge music person, so saying that you could just hear the John Williams soundtrack in the background? That got me right in the heart (in a good way)! As much as I want them together, like… right now, I just knew that Obi-Wan's character wouldn't let him do it. He needs to marinate, think, (suffer), a little longer before he gets that final nudge that pushes him over the edge. 'Cause Elara's already ready to give it a go… he just needs a tiny bit more convincing. And AHH, what a compliment it is to say that the 'exemplary Jedi' line is something you'll remember up there with those other lines! The whole 'exemplary Jedi' thing has always been a huge overarching theme for this story; I hadn't necessarily planned to use it as the impact statement of the chapter, but once I typed it––I knew that it was it. That that was what Elara was leaving Obi-Wan with. And I think I spent an evening and a whole afternoon on that scene. There was a lot of writing, deleting, suffering over wording, and re-writing that was done. Also happy you enjoyed the baby scene! It was definitely a good reprieve for Elara, as well as it being feelsy for Obi-Wan. A moment for her to recognize the good in the galaxy, the innocence she's fighting for. I hope that you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again for the lovely review!
And thank you to those that added this to their follows/favorites; it means a lot!
Next up––Elara receives a new mission, Yoda's gonna have a talk with one of our two favorite Jedi, and Palps very well may rear his ugly head (possibly, it may have to wait a few chapters). For those of you keeping track of where we are in the series, we're venturing into the stretch of time between "Children of the Force" and "Bounty Hunters" (which will be the next covered episode)! Thank you all, again, for being so awesome! Hope y'all enjoyed the chapter; y'all stick rock!
~Mary