Satine

"When I told him anywhere but Bandomeer, I most certainly did not mean Phindar," Obi-Wan muttered as the little family made their way through the chaotic streets of the city.

Satine soothed Luke's pitiful cries until he was on the brink of his next nap. "Please tell me you've been here before?"

The glance her husband gave her was less than reassuring. "Unfortunately, yes. That's why I'm eager to catch a ship off this planet at the soonest possible second."

"You never were one to hold back the truth," she commented with a wry grin.

"Would you even have allowed me if I'd tried?"

Wrapping her fingers around his outstretched arm, Satine flashed another smile. "What do you think?"

"I think," Obi-Wan returned, his own smile faltering slightly as he surveyed the menacing crowds before them, "that we had best find a way off Phindar before we dig up more trouble than we're worth."

"And how much trouble are you worth, Ben?"

He rolled his eyes at her playful jab. "What do you think?"

Typical, she thought, her heart warming at the mere sight of him—her hero.

Whatever would I do without him?

Perish, most likely. A most unhappy thought, indeed.

A thought that made her tighten her hold. Shady planet or not, no one was taking him away from her.

Not after that scare with the pirates…

Only, they all ended up knowing each other, so that had been good. Hadn't it?

Satine still didn't know how she felt about her husband's close relations with the pirate lord Hondo Ohnaka, but she was certain Obi-Wan knew many people she wouldn't care for—and many he probably didn't quite like, either.

Still… The war had changed them both considerably. Oh, to be that wistful, yet dutiful teenager again whose biggest issues had to do with reining in her own rebellion and allowing her Jedi Knight in Shining Armor to protect her from the insurgents.

It all seemed so easy back then, when the line between good and evil was so clearly drawn.

Now, look at this galaxy—our galaxy. Our home.

"Satine?" Her fluttering eyelids brought her husband back into focus, as well as the grimy cityscape. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, perfectly. I was just… reliving the past a bit. Nothing to worry about."

And yet, the touch of concern remained in his caring blue eyes.

"Just be sure you don't get lost in it, my love," he murmured, much to her surprise.

Instead of replying, however, she merely nodded, for she couldn't think of a proper response. Was he speaking from experience? Or warning her of something he struggled with himself?

For all the years she had known Obi-Wan Kenobi, sometimes, he was still a mystery to her. And the one man she was certain could unlock the secrets of the aloof Jedi Master was dead.

That reminded her… We still haven't talked about Skywalker yet. A conversation that was long overdue. Oh, how heavy a burden he must be carrying?

Yes, each had his or her own share of heavy memories, but Satine knew it was her husband who shouldered the weightiest past. A burden you no longer have to bear alone, my sweet.

Don't you know this?

"Well then," she began with an air of control—a trace of the commanding Duchess she once was in another lifetime—"what are our first steps in getting off this horrid planet?"

Obi-Wan's grin returned at full force and he gazed down at her. "We can begin by checking the outgoing civilian flights."

"And if there aren't any?"

"Let's just hope there are."

"But if there's not?"

The look he flashed her did nothing to ease her growing concern. Don't say it! Don't you dare say it…

He didn't, but the response he gave wasn't much better than the dreadful, unspoken I don't know.

"Then I'm afraid you'll have to start getting used to pirates and smugglers, my dear." A slight frown tugged at his lips as he murmured, "Because they're the only pilots you'll find in a place like this."

"I was afraid you would say that." Still, despite her misgivings and the coil of dread that had been tightening around her stomach since Hondo's initial attack, Satine held fast to Obi-Wan.

He's brought us all safely this far. And she trusted him to get them safely off Phindar, even if it ended up being via more… unconventional means.

At first, Satine dutifully followed her husband through the crowd, but when it became clear they wouldn't have any luck with Phindar's fabled "civilian flights," the leader in her took charge.

"We're getting nowhere," she stated matter-of-factly. "I would suggest splitting up to cover more ground, but I'm pretty certain I already know what your answer would be to that."

Obi-Wan simply flashed a grin, waiting patiently for her to finish.

"So, you go smoke out those pirates and smugglers you were talking about and I'll try to get us a room at that inn over there, just in case."

"In case?" Obi-Wan raised a brow, his grin never fading.

"Well," she replied with a smirk of her own, "on a planet such as this, you never know what might happen."

And, my darling, it never hurts to be prepared.

Obi-Wan

She was right. As always, he thought fondly.

And while he was quite fond of his astute wife, Obi-Wan was not, however, fond of the progress he was making. Or the complete lack of any rogues willing to fly three refugees off-planet.

He felt his lips twist into a grimace for the fifth time that evening. He wasn't above paying the scum of the galaxy to get his family off Phindar, but as Obi-Wan ventured further into the next seedy bar, he found himself growing more and more cautious. After all, he couldn't hire just anyone to transport his gorgeous wife.

Nails dug into his palm as he clenched his fist at the very thought of the wrong person getting their hands on her.

The club was dimly lit, but Obi-Wan hadn't been expecting much by way of light. What sort of underbelly tavern would it be if the patrons inside couldn't spot potential threats and make a run for it before the newcomers' eyes had even adjusted to the room?

That's when it happened.

Obi-Wan's eyes had just adjusted to the light and he was scanning the room for the telltale signs of a rogue pilot when he saw him.

And his chest seized.

How…?

It was a reunion that should've been joyful—another familiar face in an endless sea of strangers—but he knew it wouldn't be. Something was off… The energy emanating from the boy didn't feel right at all.

Because yes, Korkie Kryze was there, but he didn't look like he was there.

Satine's young nephew had grown up considerably since they'd last met, but there was certainly something wrong with him, and Obi-Wan meant that in the kindest sense of the word. From the way his dull eyes seemed to stare right through his companion across the table…

… To the Falleen trapping the boy in the corner of the booth. The twinges of rage he'd felt earlier at the thought of Satine falling prey to Phindar's scum coiled around his heart once more.

Whatever Korkie had gotten himself into after Mandalore fell, it had now become Obi-Wan's job to get him out of it.

Old habits die hard, and for the briefest of seconds, he almost lifted his wrist and opened a new comm channel. "Satine, General Kenobi here. I've located your nephew, Korkie, and am now preparing for his immediate extraction from the premises. Do you copy?"

Only, he'd left his wristguard communicator back on Coruscant with the rest of his life, and he was no longer General Kenobi. The High General of the Republic was gone and so was the Jedi Master. Now, he was simply Obi-Wan Kenobi, a name that wouldn't mean anything to the galaxy in ten years or so. Perhaps even less than that.

Stealth had always been one of his strong points, though he certainly wasn't as good at it as Quinlan Vos—and not for the first time, he wondered if his old friend had escaped the massacre, having never been one to work with clones—Obi-Wan quickly decided to go for a more direct approach.

Especially after overhearing traces of the table's conversation.

"I assure you," the Falleen said, voice smooth as silk, "you won't be wasting your money. He's a hard worker and his education far surpasses that of the more common slaves you'd find on the black market."

"You say that like it's a good thing," came the man's gruff reply.

"Trust me when I say this one won't cause any problems."

And that had been enough for Obi-Wan. With ears still bleeding from what he'd just heard, he made his way to the bar.

"What'll it be?" the tender asked in a dull tone that made it clear his shift was almost over and he was ready to get out of there.

"One Dorian Quill on the rocks. Also," Obi-Wan added once the bartender had handed him the drink, "I'm sure you're aware, but there's a wanted fugitive sitting in the second booth from the corner. The bounty on his head is quite high, which is why I'm sure his presence hasn't gone unnoticed by someone as sharp as you…"

With no small amount of satisfaction, Obi-Wan fought to hold back a smirk as the tender's eyes darted to Korkie's table.

"Since you've no doubt been aware of this fact for longer than I have," Obi-Wan continued, sipping slowly on his whiskey, "I was wondering what you planned on doing about it."

If the bartender was catching onto Obi-Wan's deception, he didn't show it, rather, his eyes grew wider.

"If you think you're gonna get a cut of the bounty just because you tipped me off, you're outta your kriffing mind."

"I couldn't have tipped you off if you already knew," Obi-Wan replied with a knowing smile.

"'Course, I knew!" Then, he nodded at two half-armored Trandoshans hovering off to the side of the bar. They were quick to jump into action, slinking around the bar with practiced ease.

Just as Obi-Wan began to slip off his barstool so he could implement the second part of his plan, a hand latched onto his wrist.

"Who put out the bounty, again?"

Flashing another knowing grin, Obi-Wan turned back to the eager bartender. "Why, our beloved Galactic Empire, of course."

Though necessary, they were words he hoped he never had to utter again.

"Right. I knew that."

He wrenched out of the tender's grip right as the hired muscle shoved their blasters in the Falleen's face and forced him out of his seat.

A countdown timer started up in Obi-Wan's mind as he lunged into action. While he had hoped the chaos would be enough for him to slip out with Korkie unnoticed, life wasn't so kind, per the usual.

"Hey!" The man across the table jerked to his feet, having been completely uninterested in the scene playing out before him until he spotted Obi-Wan and Korkie. "What do you think you're—?"

Close… He was so close. Korkie was already at his side, his dull gaze still fixed on absolutely nothing.

A subtle flick of Obi-Wan's hand was all it took for the man to go stumbling into the fray. To the casual onlooker, the poor barve had simply had too much to drink.

But to the man himself… Well… I believe it's time to make my exit.

Obi-Wan slung Korkie over his shoulder and headed for the back door. These places always have a back door. Once, he'd gone into one that had four different exits, three of which were infamous "back doors."

As he made his escape, he tried not to think about the way Korkie hadn't put up any resistance whatsoever. He tried to ignore the boy's limp body. And he promised himself he wouldn't jump to any horrific conclusions.

Not yet, anyway.

A soft moan echoed from the boy on his back and Obi-Wan felt his heart shatter for what seemed like the hundredth time in his short life.

One quick glance made it clear no one was following them. That was far too easy… So, the exiled Jedi eased Korkie off his back, holding him tightly by the shoulders until he was certain the young man's legs would hold him—for the time being, at least.

"Korkie," he whispered, yet the boy continued to stare right through him. "Can you walk?" seemed a redundant question. After all, he had to have entered that bar somehow, and Obi-Wan doubted very much that the Falleen could've carried Korkie into the tavern without attracting unwanted attention.

Unsure of what to say next, Obi-Wan clasped his hand around Korkie's and proceeded to guide him to the inn Satine had been talking about earlier. Stars, that seemed like such a long time ago.

"... Stop…" It floated out on a sigh, the word barely audible over the din of the crowd, but Obi-Wan heard it. "Please…"

"It's only a little further, Korkie," he soothed, tightening his hold on the boy's hand. "Stay with me, all right?"

A pained groan came in answer. Hold on. Hold on…

"Stop…" Korkie breathed again, "I can't… Please, I… I…"

The Force screamed its warning seconds before Korkie's legs buckled, barely giving Obi-Wan enough time to scoop the boy up in his arms and hug him close.

"Stay with me, Korkie," he whispered again, willing his voice not to shake. "Stay with me…"

The inn was small, but thankfully, it was quiet. Quiet enough for the bored receptionist to raise a suspicious brow at Obi-Wan as he approached the counter.

Plastering a smooth smile on his face, Obi-Wan said, "This is the last time I'll ever let him go bar hopping." When the receptionist just hummed, he pressed on. "I believe my wife checked in earlier today? She's blonde and would've had a baby with her…"

And I'm not sure what name she checked in under, so give me a hand here, will you?

"Yeah, she's here. Didn't mention anything about him though," she replied with a nod at Korkie's limp form. "Just you."

"His rebellious nature has driven a bit of a stake into his relationship with his mother," Obi-Wan quickly explained. "Now, which room?"

"32A. Third floor. No lift." She jerked her head again, this time toward the far end of the room. "The stairs are over there. Good luck."

Obi-Wan flashed one last grin. "Thank you. I suppose I'll need it, won't I?"

Only when he was in the safety of the stairwell did he allow himself to breathe.

Inhale, exhale.

There is no emotion, there is peace.

There is no—

Korkie moaned again and Obi-Wan quickened his steps.

There is no chaos, there is harmony…

He'd been too late to save Anakin, but perhaps it wasn't too late to save Korkie Kryze.

Perhaps this was some sort of a second chance he'd been given by someone for some reason.

Or maybe it was entirely circumstance that had brought them together. Maybe he was just in the right place at the right time.

Obi-Wan pursed his lips.

He'd always preferred to believe in divine intervention over random chance.

And perhaps this was exactly that.

Perhaps it was his second chance to begin making things right again. For Satine. For Korkie.

And for himself.

Who thinks I should do the Korkie Kenobi theory and who thinks I should just leave it like it was on the Clone Wars with Korkie as Satine's nephew? :)