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.
52. Thantophobia
It had become something of a routine for Elara to throw herself into a training gambit upon returning to the Temple from a mission. It allowed her to burn off any excess stress or tension, and offered a chance to decompress. She had come to find that if she didn't take the time to do this––particularly after a relatively difficult mandate––then she was all the more tense. It was harder to move forward. Harder to focus on what needed to be focused on. Gleann had been a pleasure to return to. It's misty peaks, sloping valleys, and welcoming people had been nothing but wonderful. The mission had gone smoothly, passed calmly. But it hadn't left without its stressors; Dooku's message, Wyle's involvement in her bounty, and everything happening prior to her leaving Coruscant all played a factor in the underlying tension she hadn't been able to shake. It lived in her muscles, pulled them taut as though constantly waiting for her to flee. It was so constant, so ever-present that when Elara had lay down to go to sleep, they'd been sore. Upon waking up that morning, with aches in her joints and the start of a stress-induced headache, she dressed and decided to start her day off with a little exercise. After all, what better way to try and relieve that sensation than with a little lightsaber practice?
A seeker droid swiveled jerkily through the air, its mechanics whirring. Its small gun ports shifted and rotated, almost playfully, and Elara kept her eyes glued to it. She stood alone in a small courtyard, dressed down to a sleeveless tunic that she'd relegated for training use. Mid-morning sun cut shadows across the courtyard, and the air was just starting to warm. It was perfect weather to train in. Just as the droid wheezed out a zapping sound, Elara's lightsaber rose at a sharp downward angle, deflecting the non-lethal energy bolt. She sharply shifted her blade upwards, batting back another bolt, before it swept towards the right, deflecting yet another. Every movement, every action was guided by the Force. It was a sensation that she had become used to, an innate pull in her gut that ushered her along the path of self-preservation. That urged her to lunge out and protect others. A sense of true inner peace came with it, something that provided a solid base to stand on whilst in the most unstable of situations. Calling forth that sensation was particularly helpful whilst training with a seeker droid; because unlike sparring with another person, it was hard to predict where it would move, or what gunport it would be firing from. It required more concentration, Elara found, more connection to the Force. More connection with that most desireable inner peace.
And it was that peace that she sought solace in. Being back on Coruscant had already proved to be difficult. Not that anything that happened, nor that she was faced with a new, tricky mandate. It was, in part, because of what had transpired just before she had left. Passing by the repair hangar had caused a nauseating twist to curl through her stomach, and had left her frowning at fresh, stinging memories. But the trepidation at being back was also because of everything that hadn't happened yet. Elara was still yet to see Obi-Wan, not that she expected that they'd bump into one another whilst taking a corner. If there was one thing that events as of late had proved, it was that they were quite good at avoiding one another when they wanted to. And though their reunion was something that she would have once looked forward to, she almost dreaded it, now. Elara suspected that it would be tense. She was sure that she would be greeted by Master Kenobi, all squared shoulders, impassive expression, and measured words. The only plan that she'd had was to combat the stoniness with kindness. He wished to scale back the boundaries they had already pushed, and she would respect that; but it was all that she could hope was that the warmth of benevolence would melt the iciness that fear had created.
There was a faint scuffling at the edge of the courtyard, the only sound that interrupted the whirring of the seeker droid, the scuffling of Elara's feet, and the zap of energy bolt meeting saber blade. It was enough to draw the attention of the concentrated Jedi Knight, and her head quirked towards the sound slightly. With a faint sigh, and eyes still locked on the seeker, she addressed who she thought was there.
"Quinlan, I told you that I wouldn't be done for a while; I'm sure that there are other courtyards open for your use," she exhaled.
The roguish Jedi––brash in nature, bold in the way he spoke, and shameless in his not-so-subtle flirtations––had stopped by earlier, interrupting her session for a little longer than necessary. He had lingered with a big, toothy grin, and told her this was his favorite courtyard to utilize. It was something to do with the angle of the sunlight coming over the high Temple walls, and how it only got in his eyes once noon rolled around. This was actually true. The courtyard was small and located on the Western side of the Temple; it stayed cooler there until afternoon rolled around. It was, in fact, why Elara preferred this courtyard, too. Quinlan had even offered to spar with her a bit. It was an offer she had politely declined, and told him that she would be done within the half hour. That had been ten minutes ago. She could only presume that he'd come back to lounge in the doorway until she was done.
"I'm very pleased to say that I am not Quinlan Vos," stated a soft, prim voice that most certainly did not belong to the aforementioned Jedi.
No. That was not Quinlan Vos––that was Obi-Wan Kenobi.
All at once, the energy that she had been too focused to sense washed over her. Just like the languidness of his voice, it laved over Elara in an almost sensuous wave. It was slow and gentle and warm, inspiring a breathlessness that felt almost intimate. All of the breath in her lungs was coaxed out by the tempting softness of it. It wrapped around her like a Gleannish blanket, embroidered with ornate designs that represented the strength of their connection. All of it caressed her mind, body, and soul, and caused a shudder to ripple through her frozen body. It was a feeling that threatened to become all-consuming. Like it wanted to crawl inside of her and make its home there, it wanted to become part of her as much as she wanted it to become part of it. For with it came sweet, blissful memories. Of blinding, happy smiles, gentle touches, and delighted conversation. It was remarkable that Obi-Wan's presence could affect her this way; that it could render her motionless and speechless in mere seconds.
Elara had barely taken a breath since she'd heard the warm tenor of his voice, let alone moved; which wasn't necessarily the best thing, given that the seeker droid was still active. She hadn't heard its warning whir, and instead was jerked out of her reverie when her arms flew up gracelessly to block the bolt. It bounced back towards the droid and dissipated as it struck the wall. A breath rushed in through her mouth, squeaking as it squeezed through the tightness of her throat. Elara was now painfully aware of Obi-Wan's presence humming on the edge of both the courtyard and her subconscious. It was unignorable––he was unignorable. He always had been. Her eyes had blown wide, and her mouth hung open as gentle, surprised breaths huffed between them. Inside her chest, the beating of her heart had scrambled into a frantic tattoo. This was not what she had expected. He had managed to catch her completely off guard, and completely unprepared. Again. In every scenario that had played out in her head, their reunion had taken place in a meeting of some sort. A situation where they both had to be there. It would have been awkward, but it would have been necessary. A gentle reintroduction. A chance for the both of them to prepare to see one another again after such a big confrontation. Not this––a situation where it felt as though a rug had been ripped out from beneath Elara's feet. Where preparedness was nowhere to be seen, and improvisation was suddenly a requirement. For though kindness came naturally to her, kindness in the wake of heartbreak was something that she was not well versed in.
Elara peeled a hand off of her lightsaber hilt. Her palm was sweaty and her fingers were trembling. She slowly waved it at the droid, which gently floated to the ground as it shut down. A steeling breath pulled in through puckered lips. It was now or never, she supposed. The only chance of escape was to climb over the courtyard wall; and that was simply not something she could do. This, like their conversation in the hangar, was unavoidable. So, squaring her shoulders, she started to turn. Where normally Elara would be delighted to lay eyes on the handsome Jedi Master, she now felt reluctant to cast him even a side-long glance. For the last time that he had caught her completely unawares, the outcome had been devastating. It had scattered her heart across the floor in a million pieces. She feared that, upon laying eyes on him, she would find that terrible, stony expression waiting for her. Pinched eyebrows, cool eyes, and pursed lips. An overall drawn countenance that made Obi-Wan look older than he was. That was not the expression that Elara wished to encounter. She'd much prefer something brighter––perhaps even roguish––but she knew that wasn't going to be what she found. So, with a final, sharp inhale, she forced her eyes to find the man standing at the edge of the courtyard.
Sure enough, there Obi-Wan Kenobi stood, handsome and glowing in the mid-morning sun. Immediately Elara was struck by that instinctive relief that he was there. That the war had not claimed him, nor had the Council sent him off on some life-threatening mission. But that relief was instantly quelled by the way that had composed himself. He stood primly with hands clasped behind his back, chin level with the ground––the perfect picture of a Jedi Master… as he often was. He looked… exemplary. Just as he wanted them both to be. He, the epitome of a Jedi who sat the Council, and she the epitome of a highly trained Jedi Knight. Nothing more. But then, Elara clocked something. Though his expression was neutral, there was a strained tension in his neck. Muscle and tendon jutted predominantly from the column of his throat, like he was actively holding it that way. It betrayed that something was brewing beneath that carefully composed countenance. Elara's gaze slid along the length of his neck, ghosted over the tempting press of his lips, and finally met his own. And what she found there startled her. There was a coolness to the blues of his eyes, not a stoniness or an iciness like she had expected. There was no steadfast resolve to be markedly removed from her and the situation. Instead, there was a tentativeness there. Quiet and soft, it was almost unnoticeable; but Elara had looked into his eyes many times before. She'd come to know how to identify the emotions that flitted through them.
Upon their eyes meeting, something other than the recognition of tentativeness occurred. That damning pull reignited in the pit of Elara's stomach; and judging by the way that Obi-Wan inhaled sharply, it had in his, too. For a moment it was terrifically intense. It was almost nauseating as it twisted and pulled, drawing forth the tension that had been building between them for years. Elara stiffened. Her back went ram-rod straight as she resisted the urge to book it across the courtyard and throw her arms around Obi-Wan's neck. She wondered, faintly, if he had been stricken with the same urge. And then suddenly, disarmingly––it lessened to a wounded, slow throb. The tension went slack, as though it had been partially severed. It was, perhaps, more painful than the way that her heart had been aching. Because this, what she felt pulsing through her body, was evidence that her and Obi-Wan's connection had become damaged. It had been bleeding out slowly, clinging to life because it didn't want to peter out forever.
The carefully schooled expression that Elara had managed to affix to her face cracked. Her eyebrows furrowed and the corners of her mouth pulled into a delicate frown.
"Obi-Wan…" His name tumbled from her lips in a murmur both pleading and confused. What she pleaded for, she didn't know. What she was confused about, she didn't know either. All she knew was that saying his name had felt like a comfort, and she wanted to whisper it a thousand more times.
The minute his name met the air on a rush of breath, Obi-Wan's eyelids fluttered shut. His eyelashes brushed against the tops of his cheekbones, and as his head dipped forward slightly, those errant strands of blonde hair toppled across his forehead. At her side, Elara's fingers twitched with the innate need to brush them back into place. She longed for the time, many months ago, where it would have been acceptable to do so. Where her fingertips would brush against his forehead accidentally as she swept his hair aside, and he'd meet her eyes with a silently longing gaze. Even then––'then' being as recent as two months ago––, when such slight touches were permissible, brushing his hair aside was always a gamble. It had always felt incredibly intimate. And intimacy was off limits, now, Obi-Wan had made that much very clear. When his eyes opened again, they were a little more guarded––but Elara could still see that gentle, soft tentativeness gleaming in them. His eyebrows lifted in a low arch, and he cleared his throat.
"Your form continues to improve," he complimented, albeit a little stiffly. Awkwardly almost.
Elara felt struck dumb. The onslaught of emotion that had come with Obi-Wan's sudden appearance had halted her thought process with an embarrassing swiftness. After a moment in which she contemplated what 'form' he was referring to, she looked down to the still activated lightsaber in her hand. Of course. Obviously. That kind of form, he'd walked in on her training. A flustered heat rushed to her cheeks, and Elara attempted to hide it by keeping her head bent as she deactivated her saber.
"Thank you," she said softly as she hooked the hilt onto her belt. It was imprudent, amongst other things, to avoid Obi-Wan's gaze. So when she looked up, she forced herself to look him in the eye. Again, the pull in her gut throbbed with a painful, silent whine. Without anything in her hands any longer, she had no clue what to do with them. So she pressed them together and folded her fingers. "I fear you caught me at a bad moment, however. You caught me off guard." Again.
A sheepishness flashed across Obi-Wan's face so quickly, Elara was sure that she had imagined it. That it was a trick of the light as a cloud passed over the sun. Because she swore that she saw it––but then in the blink of an eye it was gone.
"My apologies," he deferred with a bow of his head. "It appears that we were of the same mindset this morning. I passed Vos in the corridor and he directed me here, saying the courtyard was empty."
A slight annoyed bite entered both his voice and his expression. Neither of those things, however, set Elara on edge. For she knew that she was not the subject of his ire. Quinlan was. If there was one person in the whole of the Jedi Order that Obi-Wan wished he never had to come into contact with, it was Quinlan Vos. Bold and brash and sarcastic, the Jedi had concerning tendencies. The way he sometimes acted seemed to contradict the Code, something that Obi-Wan was not keen on. And though his general dislike of the Jedi was well known, Quinlan always acted like they were the best of friends. Elara sometimes suspected he did things to purposefully irk Obi-Wan who was, after all, often revered as the epitome of the perfect Jedi. She suspected that directing him to this courtyard was one of those instances… whether or not he just meant to inconvenience him, or that he knew some kind of confrontation would occur was unknown.
She sincerely hoped that it was the first option; for if Quinlan Vos was at all wise to what was happening between herself and Obi-Wan… both of them would never live a peaceful life again.
"It's a good morning for it. Training, I mean," Elara said. She haltingly––awkwardly––gestured to the sky. "It's… not that warm yet."
"Yes, it's… quite temperate," Obi-Wan agreed.
The stilted nature of their conversation was painful. Never before had it felt so jerky, so stop-and-go, so unnatural. Ever since Elara could remember, words flowed between them effortlessly. Even when they'd first met, when they barely knew one another's name, the flow of conversation was incredibly smooth. So much so, one might have thought they'd known each other for years. But now, nearly eleven years on, they spoke as though they'd just made each other's acquaintance. It made Elara's skin crawl with how wrong it felt. She lifted a hand to scrub over her right arm, which was exposed to the morning air. Her palm ghosted over the faded, pearly pink scar that sliced across her right bicep. The first scar she'd garnered whilst in service to the Jedi Order, fighting in the Battle of Naboo… back pressed against the back of the man she now stood a painful fifteen feet away from. What felt worse than the halting nature of their conversation, however, was the silence in between. It was an expectant quiet, it waited to be filled by sly remarks or flirtatious banter. It craved the electrified energy that once flowed between the two Jedi with ease. It was a stark, painful reminder of how severely things had changed, and how they had worsened.
"I'll leave you to your training. Again, I apologize for interrupting you," Obi-Wan reiterated. With a slight bow of his head, he started to turn away, the soles of his boots grinding across the stone slabbing beneath them.
A slight thrill of what felt like panic rushed through Elara's system as he turned his back on her and made to leave. His hands were still clasped at the small of his back, but his knuckles looked white and strained. His shoulders were stiff, not squared. It reminded her of when he walked away from her on Ryloth, and when he'd turned away from her in the ventilation system inside the Temple. She would not let him walk away again. She could not let him walk away again, not if she wanted to mend this relationship in any kind of way. Elara startled a step forward, stepping out of the coolness of a shadow and into the warmth of the sun. The sweat that had beaded on her forehead and the back of her neck immediately felt chilled and clammy.
"What I said to Quinlan was a lie," she said. She watched Obi-Wan halt mid step, his head quirking sideways to glance over his shoulder. Though Elara could not see all of his face, she noted a slight, curious knitting of his eyebrows. "I was just about done training for the morning; I… just wanted to get him off my back." Her expression automatically pulled into something wry as she smoothed a thumb over her battlescar. "He wouldn't leave."
A scoffed, stunted laugh appeared from Obi-Wan's direction. The sound––despite how short it was––was a relief to hear. Things weren't so bad, then. If things were truly tending towards the worst of it, he wouldn't have laughed. Obi-Wan turned back towards her slightly, an eyebrow arched lowly. Now the tentativeness that had been in his eyes had leached into his expression. "When does he ever do as asked?"
A cautious air had started to tremble around him, as Elara was sure one started to quiver around her. Because this was uncharted territory. When last they spoke, the words had been venomous, and emotions had been heightened. It had likely been presumed by both that this reunion would take on a similar energy; but this was different. It was awkward and slow. There was no cruel contention, just tension in its purest form. This was like the meeting of two estranged friends who danced and skirted around the reason for their alienation of the other. There was an underlying melancholia to the few words they had exchanged, a silent acknowledgement that this was not how things were supposed to be. That familiarity and friendliness was what their relationship had been built on, and with the removal of those things, they were no better than strangers. And that simply wouldn't do. Not for Elara––and judging by the way his fingers shifted over and squeezed his own wrist, it wouldn't do for Obi-Wan either.
"Never, I think. Though, he is right about one thing––this courtyard stays cool until midday. Since I'll be taking my leave shortly… you're more than welcome to stay," Elara invited softly.
Something akin to surprise washed over Obi-Wan's face, and, this time, she was sure it wasn't a trick of the light. Because his eyebrow dropped and the tension in his mouth disappeared; it caused his lips to part in questioning wonder. The stiffness of his shoulders drooped a little, almost as though a slight amount of weight had been lifted off of them. Following the surprise, however, was a quiet apprehension, which had his shoulders tightening up again.
"I wouldn't wish to impose," he replied.
"It's of no imposition," Elara assured softly. The drawn melancholia on her face melted into something gentler, though still a little sorrowful. Because while this was better than what she had expected, it still was not what she wanted. And for as selfish as it felt to want the normalcy they once had, to crave the feeling of his hand against her back and the way it felt to return his smiles… she truly did want it back. She wanted it badly. Selfishness was dangerous… and this was an addicting, enticing kind of danger.
In response to the relaxing of her expression, Obi-Wan's seemed to lift, if only a little. The remaining tension in his forehead disappeared, as did the straining in his neck. He cleared his throat and turned back towards her, though the movement was still cautious. With hands unclasping, one hand swept forward to draw over his chin, smoothing down his neatly trimmed, unmussed beard. "Then I shall accept your kind offer."
Elara inclined her head to him and proceeded to finally tear her eyes away from him. Her eyes turned towards the far end of the courtyard, where three trees grew proudly over a small garden of flowers and bushes. Not looking at him didn't help a thing, however. The groaning ache deep in her gut still throbbed in time with her still wounded heart, the ebb and flow of his energy was still unignorable. She moved towards the trees on the other end of the courtyard, where her robe hung on a particularly low hanging branch. She gently snagged it, shook it out, and proceeded to fold the roughspun fabric over her arm. Her body was still warm from all the moving––and from being under Obi-Wan's persistent gaze––so she decided to forgo wearing it, no matter how naked her bare arms left her feeling.
"I heard that you discovered that Wyle Brostol is likely the one behind your bounty," Obi-Wan said, voice once more prim and business-like. Elara's eyes fell shut momentarily, and her hand fell to rest atop her folded robe. Leave it to Obi-Wan Kenobi to take emotional progress and turn it into business. She scraped her nails along the fabric of her robe before she turned back around, eyes open, expression gentle and cool.
"He's not 'likely the one,' he is the one. The more I think about it, the more assured I am of that fact. It's… a comfort to finally know. I have a face and a name, now, he's no longer just a shadowy figure lurking in around an unknown corner," she admitted.
Obi-Wan's expression drew into something tight, but not tense. There was a flash of something in his eyes, sharp and burning. "We should have been informed of his escape. It was irresponsible for the Atonement not to have reported a successful escape attempt, they have put lives at risk." A clippedness had snipped at his consonants and shortened his vowels; which when paired with that flashing look in his eyes, suggested that he was, perhaps… angry. Elara blinked at him, surprised, and watched as he schooled his expression into something gentler. "The Council is looking into the incident, and we have been assured that the necessary parties shall be reprimanded for what they have done. Now that we know who we are looking for, it will be easier to see if we can track him down. We shall put an end to this, once and for all… I assure you."
Despite their previous confrontation, despite the stilted awkwardness of this exchange, Elara was, in fact, reassured. Because there was an intensity in Obi-Wan's quiet gaze, which caused the blues of his eyes to burn as though they were stoked by embers. That intensity had worked its way across his face, tightening his jaw and drawing across his lips. And she was reassured because this was Obi-Wan. A man who had protected her even when they were quarreling, who smarted when thugs looked at her the wrong way, and blamed himself upon discovering a Hutt lord had imprisoned her. It didn't matter what the terrain was like between them––whether it was as rough as the Kaminoan oceans during a storm, or smooth as the sloping valleys in the lake country of Naboo, Elara would always trust him with her life. So she inclined her head to him from across the courtyard, eyes falling gently closed. When her head raised, she found that Obi-Wan's expression had lightened some, but had also pinched up a little… now he almost appeared to be sad. His eyebrows had lifted, but a crease had formed between them. Pursed lips had started to twist down at the corners. And blue eyes, all but burning a moment ago, had cooled into something melancholic. Elara felt her throat tighten as that invisible string between them pulled taut again, and created a sense of deep, desperate longing.
"Thank you," she said, voice hushed and threatening to break. The words 'Master Kenobi' stumbled to the tip of her tongue, but she couldn't say them. They wouldn't tumble past her teeth or lips. It was the proper title, the proper form of deference; it was befitting of the situation that Obi-Wan wanted to develop between them, now… but she couldn't bring herself to do it. Not only did it feel too formal, it felt wrong. They'd known each other too long to simply refer to one another as 'Master Kenobi' and 'Master Skywalker.' It just wasn't right.
Obi-Wan not only inclined his head in return, but bent forward at the waist slightly. "Of course." No 'Elara,' no 'Master Skywalker'––perhaps he was just as conflicted as she was.
Before silence both awkward and heavy could crash over them, Elara moved to take her leave. The only way to exit the courtyard was the way that Obi-Wan had entered from. So she approached him with a steady gate, her chin held high––but not haughtily––and forced herself not to stare at him the entire time. Instead, she focused on a spot just beyond his shoulder. Because if she didn't, she knew she would get lost in his eyes like she always did. With each step she took, as the distance between them closed, the pull in her gut grew stronger. The drooping, wounded, invisible string between them pulled taut again. The intensity of it elevated so quickly that it formed an empty pit in her stomach, one that was filled with a nauseating, hollowness fueled by longing. A longing for something that she wanted so badly, but had been told that she couldn't have. It simultaneously made her want to vomit, and to physically throw herself at Obi-Wan. To press herself as close to him as she possible could, so his warmth might fill and eliminate the hollowness inside her stomach. She wanted to feel the heat of his breath against her neck, to feel the rise-and-fall of his chest pushing against sensuously hers. Wanted to whisper his name into the crook of his neck and wait to hear hers murmured in response. Despite all that had transpired between them, Elara wanted him as close as physically possible. It was a feeling just as dangerous––if not more so––as her selfish desire to want what they once had back. And for that reason––not out of cruelty or spite––she could not and did not look him in the eyes as she passed him by.
Because she didn't know what would happen if she did.
OOOO
Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi Master and member of the Jedi High Council, felt positively perturbed.
For what had unfolded in the Western courtyard that morning had been anything but what he had expected to transpire. In the week that he had suffered alone with his thoughts, he had turned over what he had believed to be every possible scenario that involved his and Elara's reunion. Most of them involved Elara being particularly cold and withdrawn. That she offered him the courtesies that he had all but asked for when last they met; they interacted as Jedi, as comrades. Not as friends, not as the pairing of would-be lovers that had tried their damndest to fend off their feelings. Just Jedi. Exemplary Jedi that followed the Code as it was written to be, and did not even allow a toe to drift off the path. But that wasn't who Elara was. Though she was a dedicated Jedi she wasn't afraid to bend the rules a little, yet stay faithful to the Code at the same time. There was nothing cold about her. She was the epitome of warmth, like the comforting heat beneath the covers on a cool morning. It existed in her smiles and her gentle touches, in her attentiveness and her need to protect those she loved. What he had pictured her being was not faithful to who she was; and he cursed himself for ever thinking that she could ever be that way.
And though Obi-Wan knew her to be benevolent, Elara's reaction to their reunion had still managed to catch him off guard. After all that he had said to her, he suspected at least a wary, side-long glance like the one Ack-Ack had leveled at him at Dex's. As a testament to her character, Elara had been kind to him. Distance had been kept between them both, and their exchanges were awkwardly short and lacking in that unique familiarity their conversations once held… but she'd been kind. She'd looked him in the eye, offered him her training space, and even cracked a little joke about Quinlan. And when Elara had looked him dead in the eye and murmured his name… That had almost ruined him. It had struck him right in the heart, shook his knees, and almost brought them crashing to the ground. Because she had said his name––not 'Master Kenobi' or 'General Kenobi.' But 'Obi-Wan,' spoken in a breathless, soft, pleading murmur that had heat shooting through his body, had it pooling in his gut, and had his eyes fluttering closed. Some part of him desperately wanted to hear his name like that again in a different context, one where they weren't so started by seeing one another again so unexpectedly. Where he could whisper her name in return in much the same way, where they could be close enough to feel the rush of the other's breath against their skin.
But they couldn't have that. He couldn't have that… not unless he did something to make things right.
Contemplations on how to make things right, however, had to be put on hold. For the war required his––their––attention again, as it usually did. All personal matters had to be shoved to the back burner, where it would simmer and bubble away at the back of his subconscious. Though it was sure to threaten to boil over, given that Elara had been called away on this particular mission as well; but Obi-Wan would do his best not to let it spill over and into professional matters. They'd been quite good at preventing that from happening before. Here was to hoping that they could continue that prevention.
Given the great number of casualties they had already suffered, and continued to suffer, the Republic had launched a number of medical stations that were now scattered across the galaxy. This meant that injured troopers and Jedi––and sometimes even civilians––could be rushed to a med center for immediate treatment with relative ease. In the time that they'd been active, the station had saved many, many lives. The only issue with these life-saving establishments was that they were terrifically susceptible to attack. They were not outfitted for combat, nor could the Republic spare ships to guard every single med station across the galaxy. A number had been destroyed by the Separatists, much to their delight and the Republic's chagrin. So when they'd lost contact with the facility that orbited Felucia, they'd immediately become wary. And so three of the best Jedi––and an up-and-coming Padawan––were dispatched to see to the matter. Those Jedi were Anakin, accompanied by Ashoka, Obi-Wan, and Elara.
Obi-Wan, lost in ruminations regarding his current mandate and the current state of affairs between himself and a certain Jedi Knight, meandered his way to the ship they'd be taking off planet. He had thought that, perhaps, he was the first one there––but was immediately proved wrong when he saw Anakin in the pilot's seat running a pre-flight check. He stopped dead at the sight of his former Padawan Learner. Speaking of needing to push personal matters aside––he had come to the realization that if there was anyone who was at all privy to what had happened between himself and Elara the week prior, it was Anakin. And where Obi-Wan had a week to contemplate what Elara's reaction to seeing him again would be; he'd had twenty-four hours to wonder how her brother might react. And he'd come to no solid conclusion. Because though Anakin had become upset with him before, nothing of this magnitude had ever happened. Obi-Wan had never slighted Elara before. Slighting her was perhaps one of the greatest offenses that someone could do in Anakin's eyes, and knowing his temper and knowing him… Obi-Wan supposed he could very well be in for a verbal lashing.
A couple of clicks and clacks snapped through the air as Anakin toggled switches. He stretched over towards the middle of the console, gloved fingers reaching for another switch or button. But then his head turned slightly, and he seemed to realize someone else was in the ship. His head fully ticked around, and upon meeting Obi-Wan's eyes, he froze completely. Both men stared at each other silently for a moment. The air inside the ship started to crackle and pop with a grating tension. Eventually, Obi-Wan cleared his throat.
"Anakin," he greeted.
The young man sat back in the pilot's seat, arm slowly lowering, eyes not once leaving Obi-Wan's. Then came a short downward jerk of his chin as his lips thinned out. "Master."
The use of the honorific 'Master' set the tone for their impending conversation. There was to be a formality to it, a familiarity as well––as 'Kenobi' had not been tagged on––but the overtone would be overarchingly formal. There was, indeed, a spark of heat in Anakin's eyes, but it wasn't as pronounced as Obi-Wan might have thought it would be. It was obvious that he was displeased; but he didn't come off as angry. Because Obi-Wan hadn't had a decided picture of what might happen upon seeing Anakin again, he wasn't as thrown as he'd been with Elara. It simply left him unsure of how to start a conversation, the path of which was heavily obscured in the unknown.
Obi-Wan swung his hands behind his back and clasped them there, fingers squeezing at the plastoid around his wrist.
"I am pleased to hear that your time on Gleann passed without incident," he said.
"Almost," Anakin muttered. His brows pulled low over his eyes and a twisting frown pulled across his lips. "That call from Dooku was an unwanted surprise; and finding out about Wyle was unnerving, but for the greater good."
The mention of Wyle Brostal had Obi-Wan's stomach churning. It made his blood feel hot, like it might boil at any given moment. Some five years ago, the man had been nothing but a low-level thug. He'd seemed weak willed, trailing after his partner Gaeriel who seemed to call all the shots. It would seem that his time imprisoned on the Atonement had done wonders for his personal drive, and perhaps his mental stability. Obi-Wan wished it hadn't. Because now Elara's life was at risk, and that was something that he could not abide––would not abide.
"We'll find him," Obi-Wan said determinedly. What he didn't say was something along the lines of: 'and then he shall be rightfully punished for what he has tried to do.'
Anakin, however, had little to no issue with saying such things out loud.
"He's not gonna be too happy when he meets me…" He reached back across the console and aggressively flicked the switch he'd been trying to get at earlier. His fingers then slammed down against a button. Obi-Wan could only see his face in profile, but there was a grimaced frown on his face now, and his eyebrows were knit together. Skin had puckered around his scar, too, as his eyes narrowed at the corners. And then, after a moment, Obi-Wan caught him sending a side-long glance his way. His frown deepened.
It wasn't difficult to sense the ripple of displeasure that emanated from Anakin's being. He had never been particularly good at keeping his emotions in check; it was something he still actively worked on as a Jedi Knight. And, as was typical of their dynamic, Obi-Wan sighed gently, folded his arms across his chest, and asked,
"What's wrong, Anakin?"
Anakin's head dropped forward, which momentarily hid his face behind his still outstretched arm. After a tense, quiet moment, he replied.
"I'm tired of people hurting my sister." The proclamation was spoken evenly, but his voice still shook––and it struck Obi-Wan square in the chest. Anakin lifted his head, and dropped his arm, revealing an expression that was more pained than it was upset. That look was promptly turned on Obi-Wan, who had the grace not to meet his gaze impassively. A frown had crawled its way across his face, and his eyebrows had furrowed, which left him looking quietly troubled.
"It… was not my intent to hurt her as I did," Obi-Wan admitted quietly.
For a moment, all Anakin did was stare at him. And then he tried to school his expression, but only succeeded frowning more severely. "You broke her heart. I felt you break her heart." A glassiness hazed over Anakin's eyes as he stared his friend down. A slight sneer lifted his lips as he continued to speak. "The only other time I ever sensed her experiencing a pain like that was when our mother died. It may not have been your intention to hurt her, but you did. And she has… never done anything like that to you. She never would. She even told me not to be angry with you––so I'm not going to be." This he said with a bite that might have suggested otherwise. It was then that he took in a breath, and slowly let it out, as though calming himself down. In fact, the displeased ripple of energy around him settled a little. "Just… please, Obi-Wan…" his expression melted into something gentler, something pleading, "don't hurt her again."
The beating of Obi-Wan's heart had become a steady throb. Each pound of it ached worse than the last. It was terrifying how one isolated––very isolated––event could affect so many. Not only had he wounded Elara, but he had wounded Anakin, too. Where he'd broken her heart, he'd likely broken his trust. A trust that had taken ten years to build, that had become the solid foundation for the friendship that they had. The ripple effect of the decision that Obi-Wan had made was getting larger and larger by the day. Regret and guilt pooled in his stomach. Once again, he was proved wrong. The decision that he'd made to cut things off had been the incorrect course of action to take. He was now reaping the consequences of his actions, and faced with a new decision––either leave things as they were and find a new normal, or find a way to make reparations. A new normal would not be prudent, nor was it what he wanted anymore.
If he could rewind a week and handle things differently, Obi-Wan most certainly would.
Obi-Wan wordlessly stepped forward, boots thunking against the ship's floor, and stopped just behind the pilot's seat. Anakin's eyes followed him the whole time, the gentleness of his expression hardening around the edges. This was dangerous territory. Where things could either be satiated, or they could further disintegrate. One false move and everything would crumble in his hands, and it would feel as though he had single handedly destroyed absolutely everything positive that had come into his life in the last eleven years. This, like most situations as of late, Obi-Wan was going to have to handle as though it were a diplomatic situation. But if he handled it as such, it would likely set Anakin off. He'd likely be accused of being heartless, and the vehement yelling that he had suspected would likely begin. This was a diplomatic matter that also required a personal touch.
"This past week has given me time to reflect on my actions," Obi-Wan began. He peeled his eyes away from Anakin and briefly glanced out the cockpit's window. "I have come to greatly regret how I handled the situation with Elara, for it was truly not my intention to wound her as I have. It has brought me great pains to see how badly I've hurt her…" it was here that his voice started to tremble, and his eyes fell to meet Anakin's once more, "and it is not my intent to do so again."
They shared a long, silent look, both of their gazes strong and unwavering. They'd come to know one another so well that they could communicate without words. It was an advantage, especially in a war, where silence was often key. In this silent moment, they both wished to convey something different. Obi-Wan stared at his friend, his former Padawan, his brother intently, all but willing him to understand that he spoke the truth. That there was a roiling sea of emotion beneath his words, things that he could not say because he could not yet admit them. In return, Anakin peered at him in a bid to seek out the truth, to deduce whether or not his friend was lying to him. They were at a momentary impasse, neither one of them wanting to concede first. Obi-Wan wanted to make it plainly obvious that he was not backing down, that he was not conceding––because this was the truth. He did not shy away from the truth.
Slowly, and still holding Obi-Wan's gaze, Anakin rose to his feet. He stepped out from in front of the pilot's seat and came to stand directly before his former Master. He stood slightly taller than Obi-Wan, and as such, he stared down at him only slightly. Heat re-entered his eyes but this time it wasn't displeased, and it still wasn't angry. It was passionate. It was intense. It was a warning. His expression had tensed, too, lips pulled into a long, thin, line, and his nostrils had flared. Obi-Wan and Anakin, stood almost chest-to-chest, did not move––or seemingly breathe––for a long, silent moment.
"Don't," he stressed. A single word, a concussive warning. There was an implied demand there––promise me you won't.
Without so much as blinking, without having to consider what he was being asked to say, Obi-Wan replied.
"I swear to you." It will not happen again.
Silence overcame them both again, flooded the cockpit like water spilling into a sinking boat. Still neither man broke eye-contact. This was the make-or-break point. Everything came down to whether or not Anakin perceived that he was telling the truth. If he didn't, then things were going to get markedly more difficult, and this mission was going to be nigh on impossible to complete. But before anything could give way, the arrival of two new presences flooded into the Force, and signaled that this one-on-one conversation had come to an end.
"Is everything alright?"
It was––fittingly––Elara's voice that cut through the air. The tension in the cockpit was shattered by it, and simultaneously both Anakin and Obi-Wan inhaled sharply. Still, they did not look away from one another.
"Are they having, like… a staring contest or something?" inquired the trying-to-be-quiet voice of Ashoka Tano.
Anakin's head started to move before his eyes did; it turned in the direction to the door of the ship, where both women surely stood. He kept his gaze locked with Obi-Wan's until the last possible moment. And when it did break away, he smiled that small, reassuring smile he so often angled at his sister. It was a special smile, only given to certain people; Obi-Wan was lucky to say that he had been one of those people. And he sincerely hoped that he still was. Because he cared for Anakin deeply. His life would not be the same if he were not in it.
"Yeah. Everything's fine," Anakin reassured.
It was then that Obi-Wan turned a glance over his shoulder. Sure enough, the minute he laid eyes on Elara, his heart seized, his chest tightened, and the pull in the pit of his stomach yanked quite aggressively. She was staring at her brother with a wary look, eyebrows furrowed over inquisitive blue eyes. Lips slightly pursed, a faint space had appeared between them. It was the look of an older sibling who knew all of their younger sibling's tells. She was searching to see if Anakin was lying to her.
"All is well, I assure you," Obi-Wan said. Elara's eyes snapped over to him, and that achingly gentleness that had been on her face earlier as she whispered his name overcame her face again. It made his stomach twist into knots. "We were merely discussing the best course of action should we come under attack whilst over Felucia."
"Standing that close?" Ashoka scoffed disbelievingly. She stood beside Elara, her arms crossed over her chest, weight shifted onto one leg. With one brow raised, she darted a look between both Anakin and Obi-Wan. "Sure."
"Why don't you come up here and sit in the co-pilot's seat, Snips," Anakin suggested, his tone shifting towards that of brotherly mockery. "Maybe you'll learn something."
Ashoka let out an indignant huff. "I know what I'm doing."
"Sure," he directly mocked. It effectively deflected the conversation elsewhere, redirecting it towards something wholly different. Obi-Wan cast him a querying, side-long glance. Anakin caught it and, after a moment, nodded. It was a subtle gesture, but it spoke louder than any words he could have shouted. He believed––at least for now––what Obi-Wan had told him.
Obi-Wan slipped into the passenger's seat directly behind the pilot's seat so Ashoka could pass him by and take the co-pilot's spot. That left the passenger's spot behind Ashoka for Elara, which effectively sat her beside Obi-Wan, though there was an aisle between them. If he hadn't known any better––and if they hadn't been on the edge of quarreling mere minutes ago––he might've suspected that Anakin had created this seating arrangement on purpose. There was a whirring as the door to the ship lifted and closed, overlapped by the sound of Elara's footfalls as she approached her seat. Obi-Wan tried his damndest not to look her way; and that lasted about as long as the thought passed through his head. For no sooner did she slip into her seat than did he look over at her. And, much to his surprise, she looked at him. For one quiet moment, all they did was look at one another, just as they used to. A familiar, lovely warmth started to bloom in his chest. And it grew exponentially when the corner of Elara's mouth lifted before she looked away to buckle herself in.
"Get ready, everybody," Anakin proclaimed as he plopped into the pilot's seat. "Felucia awaits."
Thantophobia: The fear of losing someone you love.
Afterword: And so we venture into "Bounty Hunters"! It had been my intent to get into at least the opening scene of it this chapter, but time and life worked against me. I switched from writing on a laptop (which is all but ready to die forever) to writing on an iPad, and it's been an adjustment. This chapter also somehow proved to be really difficult to write? Like I knew exactly what I wanted to happen between Obi-Wan and Elara, but getting it down into words was just… very hard. I am very excited for next chapter, however, as Hondo is going to provide some much needed comedic relief (and a whole lot of flirting)!
Review Replies!
Guest: I've got a lot of stuff planned for the latter half of the Clone Wars and for Ep. III; we'll have to see about any surviving Jedi then!
monkeybaby: Dex just seems to me to be the sort of guy that would just absolutely delight in teasing his friends about lady problems, so I just had to do it. I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
buckspwn737: There's definitely been a lot of Obi-Wan getting the short end of the stick lately, but that's now come to an end. I wanted to see if I could strike a balance between 'I'm upset with this situation' and 'I don't want to fight with you' with Anakin and Obi-Wan's conversation. Because as he said, he doesn't want to have to choose sides, 'cause Obi-Wan is his best friend. And as things carry on, progress, and get better, there'll certainly be more acknowledgements from Obi-Wan, and others, that his part in this was severely influenced by how he was raised; just as Elara's half of this situation was influenced by how she was raised. I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
ZabuzasGirl: I adore Hondo so very much, and I have been so looking forward to getting him back into the story. He'll be in the next one! I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
DCD Gojira: Thank you so much! I hope you enjoyed the chapter!
highwayblues1: The yearning returns! The Regency tropes approach once more! It's only gonna get worse (better) as we approach the true making-up point… which isn't far along now ;) I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
MsRosePetal: For as wonderful as it could/will be for Elara to know of Anakin and Padmé's relationship, there is, indeed, the fact that she would have to go about hiding it from Obi-Wan. Who, in canon, has let on that he knows that something is going on there. There was even a deleted scene in RotS where he explicitly stated to Padmé that he had known. So there's gonna be a whole tangle of secret keeping still. And YES, Qui-Gon definitely was all aboard the Obi-Lara train before anyone else ever was; he took one good look at them and went 'yeah. Yeah, something's going to happen there.' I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
Lady Basara: I definitely think that if Obi-Wan is going to feel comfortable telling anyone anything about this whole situation, they would likely be outside the Order. Perhaps if he wasn't in love with Elara, he'd confide in Anakin, but he definitely feels like that's just not something that he can do. He's got a smaller support system than Elara, but he's also adamant on doing a lot of this alone. He knows there's a lot of introspection he has to do in order to fix all this. Also, I adore the fact that you heard the West Side Story rumble music playing when the lads walked into the diner––I fully accept that as being a track on Contigo Squadron's playlist. I cannot wait to write Obi-Wan handling Hondo's flirtatious attitude. Before it was an annoyance. But now? Home boy is really gonna have to hold back. I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
zikashigaku: Ack-Ack is the king of being professional and polite, but also letting you know that he can and will wreck you the first opportunity you give him to do so. Whatta man! Obi-Wan's taking good steps towards fixing things… but he's still got quite the ladder to climb. However… the Mandalore arc may just help usher him along… I'm glad you're here for the emotional roller coaster, 'cause here it comes! I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
GreyMemories: Ack-Ack is learning to get those final zingers off from Elara! He really was like 'I'm gonna make sure that the point gets across to him.' And Anakin is certainly going to try and find a chance to tell Elara but… they are in the middle of fighting a war––finding the opportune moment is rough. But, eventually… the time shall come! I am absolutely in that boat, too; I'm very reserved with what I say in person, and often think of what I'd like to have said after the fact. And that feeling of words just building up and choking into your throat… ugh, it just sucks––but it fit Obi-Wan's turmoil perfectly, and I'm glad you thought so, too! I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
MalirBly: I'm so glad you enjoyed the last chapter! It was a blast getting to write the boys again. I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
Nerdette92: Ack-Ack is a protective fellow, but he hasn't gotten to that point yet (thankfully)! And it's going to be a relief to many for Elara to finally be privy to Ani and Padmé's relationship; a lot of weight lifted, a lot more conversational avenues opened. And I hope you enjoyed the awkward reunion! It was a blast to write. I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
Isabelnecessaryonabicycle: The tipping point is juuuuuuust around the corner! That nudge is coming… perhaps in the form of a pirate… ;) (and perhaps from a certain lady from Mandalore, too…) I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
XxXxMuseXxXx: AHHH, thank you! I always worry when I write Padmé specifically, because I feel like I don't have the firmest grasp on her character. But writing Ani and Padmé together is just… it's always so sweet. And I'm so glad that it feels canon! When I think about writing them––their affection, specifically––I try to draw inspiration from canon moments (like the spin and lift from RotS). And Obi-Wan is slowly but surely extricating his head from his ass––finally! I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
Princess Jaquiline Chess: I had a lot of fun writing the Anidala stuff in the last chapter. I've only ever really done it once before (and then it was just Anakin rushing out of Padmé's room to go find Elara), but I genuinely enjoyed it. They're very much a couple that seems rooted in the sweet, honeymoon phase, so that's always fun to write! Introspective Obi-Wan is always a treat. Especially now that he's really trying to figure out what to do and how to fix things. Got a wee bit more of introspective Obi this chapter; he's sure having a real rough go of it xD I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again! I hope you're doing well, as well!
thenerdnextdoor: First of all I simply must ask––if you are watching Dimension20, what series are you watching? Because I am a connoisseur of Fantasy High and love the Unsleeping City; so I totally get being wholly consumed by the episodes, 'cause they just draw you in and do not let you go! I'm so glad that you enjoyed elegant, angsty boy Obi-Wan; when I started the chapter, I was just immediately struck by this image of him sat at that table in the sunlight, coffee next to his elbow, a hand over his face. A picture of pure, distressed elegance. I wish we knew more about Dex, other than the fact he was at one time a prospector. Because he's so boisterous and happy, but there's also that sly (almost menacing) part of him that we glimpse at the very end of their conversation in AotC. So I had a good bit of fun fleshing out his character a little more. Ack-Ack is the unintentional secondary OC heartthrob of this story, I think xD He's just an absolute delight, and I love him more and more every time I write him (he's developing so well, [you're doing great, sweetie!)! Writing him being all snippy with Obi-Wan was definitely a combination of me going 'YES, DO IT' and 'nooo, don't you see he looks like a kicked puppy? Leave him alone :( ' I really enjoyed the Anakin and Padmé scene from the last chapter; I wish we'd seen more of their relationship in canon (even in the Clone Wars where we do see a little more of it). It's especially nice at this point because it's still so innocent and sweet. The Clovis debacle hasn't happened. Revenge of the Sith isn't around the bend. Everything is still just… good. I cannot wait for them all to be honest with one another, it's going to be such a relief for everyone! Season 7 of the CW is certainly an experience; I ended up watching the last few episodes over breakfast one day and… I cried right into my cereal. They do such a good job incorporating and fleshing out RotS and Order 66. I hope that you enjoyed the Skywalker-Kenobi reunions in this chapter! I'm so glad that you're still enjoying the story so much, it's always an absolute pleasure to write it and share it! :) I hope you're well! Thank you again, it was great talking with you!
PrettyRecklessLaura: Elara definitely at least has an inkling of something; she's clocked Anakin's interest, at least, for quite some time now. Hard not to when he blatantly calls her an angel and beautiful in front of other Jedi and guards from Naboo xD Silly boy, so hopelessly in love. I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
DesertMortician: I think this might be the second chapter with no Elara in it? I can't recall what the other chapter might be, but I have this gut-feeling there's a chapter a while back that she wasn't in. And, yes––Elara finding out about Ani and Padmé is either going to end favorably, or with some substantial fall-out. Either way, there's definitely going to be some tension. And Padmé has most certainly been watching Elara go all lovey-dovey every time she mentions Obi-Wan, so she was not at all surprised by Anakin's news xD I am very excited to get back to our regularly scheduled Obi-Lara content; I'm itching to write their banter and the affection (oh, GOD, I'm ready for them to be affectionate). I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
Elizabeth: I'm so happy that you enjoy the scene setting! I love getting the feel of a moment before wholly plunging into it. To me, it helps set the tone of everything to come. And maybe it's because of some of the classes I took while at school, but I really love describing lighting effects; like how stepping out of the light and into the dark in a particular moment can really enhance the intensity and feel of a moment. If I could paint or draw at all, I totally would have done some kind of depiction of Obi-Wan at the table at Dex's. That image struck me so poignantly, that I rewrote the opening several times before I found just the right way to describe it. I'm so glad that you enjoyed it, too! I see a lot of Obi-Wan and Elara's misery over this situation as being a double-edged sword. Because the memories that make them happy also hurt them. And in remembering the good, they are reminded of how they are now juxtaposed with the bad. We also will see more of Obi-Wan pondering what Yoda said (hang tight, 'cause the Mandalore arc is gonna be a doozy). I keep reminding myself in writing Obi-Wan struggling through all this, that in trying to fix it all, he's having to break a lifestyle. A life-long habit. It's going to take a while, he's going to struggle with it, and it's going to hurt. And, as you said––this also just the way he is. It's hard to have to become introspective about one's self in situations like this. And the struggle is, as they say, real. And yes, yes, yes! Elara being subtle to spare Anakin, and Obi-Wan being subtle to spare himself; that is the perfect way to describe their approaches! Whenever I describe the 'caged' part of Obi-Wan it's literally just me recalling Ewan McGregor's tortured, pain-filled expressions in Moulin Rouge. Because it just feels like he's locking part of himself away, and it wants so desperately to be let out. Now that we're into the throngs of the Clone Wars I try to balance the personalities of CW Ani and Trilogy Ani as best I can; so I'm glad that CW Ani came through in the last chapter! Him finally deciding that they have to tell Elara is a big move; and having to discuss it with Padmé was definitely hard on him, because he is constantly feeling as though he has to choose between two people. First Elara and Obi-Wan. Then Elara and Padmé. He's having a go of it, but it's a quiet go and he's working through it very well. And I think that Padmé is still tentatively okay with telling Elara. She's not all gung-ho about it, but instead compromised on it in a way. I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again! Hondo's a'comin', he'll be swooping in next chapter!
RemiSparklez: Oooo, I love that song! I actually listen to a lot of Sleeping at Last's music whilst writing this story. 'Saturn' is a favorite, particularly for this story. As is 'Mars' and 'Neptune.' I'll have to go back and re-read the last chapter with 'Earth' playing! Obi-Wanreally needs a hug… and he really needs one from Elara (and good god when they finally hug [and kiss] I will weep). His holding himself to a higher standard is absolutely part of what is holding him back in realizing things. His being on the Council, as well as being a Jedi Master sort of contorts his thinking. Being in love is forbidden, but being in love AND being a Master sitting on the Council feels SUPER forbidden. So now he has to chisel away at that mind-set to break into some good critical thinking. I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
Duchess of lantern Waste: They are on the steady path of making up! The angst between them is over (if you can at all believe me), and they will slowly, but surely, be repairing their relationship. It really isn't long now before things are just solidly good again. I'm very excited for them to be back to normal (and wholly in love) again! I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
camelotpriness1: Obi-Wan currently looks great on the outside, but is a hot mess on the inside. If he cared less about keeping up appearances, his robes would surely be creased, his hair would be a mess, and his beard wouldn't be so well trimmed. And, ugh, yes, everywhere he looks he is struck with some kind of reminder of Elara. He's so in love and he's just gotta admit it. Everything will feel better once he admits it. Also, I, too, would like to know how Obi-Wan and Dex became friends. I am so, so curious, and I am very upset that such information is not out there! I'm also super happy that you enjoyed the interaction with Acks! I got the 'she's perfectly alright' line stuck in my head and went 'well, looks like Acks is being a savage today.' Good for him, honestly xD And it really has been quite a bit since we've seen Padmé; last time she was in a chapter, it was just prior to Gleann! And boy howdy, that conversation telling Elara… it's gonna be ~fun~ xD I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
And thank you to those that added this to their follows/favorites; it means a lot!
That's it for now! Hondo is rolling up in the next chapter, so get ready for all the flirting, all the displeased looks, and Elara being a straight-up badass :) I'm really hoping that I'll get that chapter up sooner (by week's end, maybe), but if not, expect a Sunday/Monday update! Thanks again, y'all for your patience and your dedication! Y'all rock!
~Mary