Hand of Fate

Chapter 18 / Ominous Discovery


An unassuming little group—two men, a woman in a dark velvet cloak, and a blue-and-white astromech droid—stole their way through the very lowest levels of Coral City's neglected regions. The dark streets down in this abandoned area of the city were eerily empty and completely devoid of any signs of life besides munkrats that ran from shadow to shadow. The derelict conditions here included broken and burnt out street lamps, rusted and littered structures, and condemned old businesses and warehouse units. This deep underwater, the entire city echoed with sounds of creaking as the outside ocean tides pressed inward… a reminder that Sabé did not appreciate after the near-drowning earlier.

Getting down to this level had not been easy or quick. Sabé, Obi-Wan, Rett, and Artoo had taken the bullet lift down as far as it would go, then had to find their way down manually through a series of old hatches and alleyway connections. It was probable that if there were a secret droid factory down here, there was some sort of secret passageway that those in the know would, well, know. Otherwise, it had been difficult to get to this area.

Leading the way toward where the blueprint had marked, Sabé kept an outward front of complete focus to the task at hand: laying eyes on this supposed droid factory. Bringing Artoo along, with Padmé's permission of course, had been a last minute decision of Sabé's for a couple of reasons. One, she theorized that they might have an easier time if he was there should they run into any socket-controlled panels or doorways. Two, if Artoo managed to restore any other files relevant to this investigation, Sabé wanted to know immediately.

The group turned another corner, coming to a huge, dead end tunnel where an imposingly large blast door was sealed shut. "Here," she whispered, voice echoing softly in the dank air around them. She again checked the coordinates that were on the blueprint. 11-38. That matched up with the navigation system that was integrated into her wrist comm. Whatever Tikkes had wanted to hide… this was part of it. They approached cautiously and Sabé stared up at the intimidating doorway, her pulse picking up as the hunt closed in. What would they find behind that door? No visible security cameras or guards were present, nor any sort of noise to indicate activity inside. This could be a complete bust of a lead, she reasoned. But, there was only one way to find out. Her eyes flicked to the socket control near the high security entry panel.

"Artoo." The little droid moaned nervously, wheeling closer to her and swiveling his dome. "Can you see if you can open that door without raising any alarms?" Sabé asked. The droid complied, rolling forward and extending a metal appendage, plugging into the socket there and going to work.

With one hand on her chin and the other one cupping her elbow, Sabé apprehensively watched, her nerves picking up. Beside her, Rett gawked around skeptically and Obi-Wan watched Artoo with a neutral expression. Sabé avoided looking at him at all, the awkwardness from that moment aboard the ship causing her a lot of discomfort and regret. On the way here, she'd realized his comment about their connection most likely hadn't been meant how she took it. Her immediate reaction to his assertion about them having an organically strong connection had been to interpret it romantically. After thinking about it a few moments, she'd realized he hadn't worded it that way at all, and she had possibly made a gigantic fool of herself. Humiliation had immediately set in. The sort of humiliation that caused a sick feeling stomach and hot skin and self-loathing. Sabé was equal parts impressed that she was capable of feeling that way at all (it had been years since she'd felt so stupid) and resentful of herself for being so ridiculous. Still… there was a part of her insisting that of course he had meant it how she took it—the look in his eyes had said it all. The ghost of his kiss on her lips confirmed it. The exchange haunted her briefly.

Sabé shook herself mentally. She had to stop thinking about the whole thing. It didn't matter. She was clear on where he stood—and whatever feelings either of them had or didn't have weren't relevant to this moment. It had to be set aside.

Artoo gave a triumphant whistle just then and the doors hissed, the pressure unsealing as the two massive plates of metal began to slink back from their closed position. A hand hovering near her blaster just at her hip, Sabé's senses heightened. On either side of her, she felt Obi-Wan and Rett doing the same, ready to spring into action if threats presented themselves. But as the door finished opening, they realized that their preparation was not needed. A very large and dark space laid beyond, dimly illuminated by a round skylight above where moonlit blue ocean light filtered in weakly. The investigators moved in cautiously, taking in the gigantic warehouse they'd found and all the indistinct shapes lurking in darkness. Although it was mostly empty, as their eyes adjusted Sabé could see there were large metal mechanisms used in production lines. Something had been being produced here at some point. Artoo whistled apprehensively, a sound that Sabé could identify with. Their footsteps echoed, and somewhere, water dripped.

"Well this is a whole lot of nothing," Rett muttered, kicking an errant piece of trash with his boot.

Sabé made no reply. She went up to one of the massive, lifeless pieces of machinery, trying to fathom what exactly it did, running a few fingers along it. Her fingers met smooth, untarnished metal. This wasn't nothing. Far from it.

"It would be rusted over if it wasn't something put here recently," Obi-Wan said nearby, following her silent line of logic. He was crouched to run his fingers across a drainage grate in the floor. The metal of that grate was rusted—obviously having been here a much longer time than the machinery. Sabé and Obi-Wan's similarly shrewd and thoughtful gazes met briefly as they both silently theorized.

"Hey, I think that's some kind of transport waterlock towards the back," Rett said, having gone a little further into where the darkness was deeper.

Sabé pulled her blaster out, activating the installed flashlight that was just below the barrel. She advanced toward where Rett was, sweeping the beam over what did, indeed, look like a waterlock. Similar to an airlock, a waterlock was designed to allow underwater transport to transition from water to air without causing flooding. And this waterlock was, from what she could tell, enormous. Sabé drifted even closer, running the small beam of light over the structure as understanding developed. She felt Obi-Wan close by, and spoke aloud both to herself and to him. "If they were assembling battle droids or weapons here, this is how they got them out." She really felt they were onto something, but—

Just then, Artoo gave a startling sound like a scream and immediately terrified by the unexpected shrill cry, Sabé whirled, weapon trained on the movement her eye caught. "Whoa, whoa, sorry, I ran into it!" Rett exclaimed, squinting and holding his hands up against the beam of light in his eyes. "Take that thing off me!"

Sabé did lower the blaster, however went to check Artoo either way. She didn't understand binary, so his beeps and clicks meant nothing to her, but she could tell he had been startled from the chirping, agitated tone of his programmed sounds. "Jumpy today, aren't you," she murmured flatly, sending a scant, dark glance at Rett. She hadn't heard him run into the droid, and Rett wore an outfit that integrated hard pieces of duraplast along certain parts of his body, like his shins and thighs. It was for aesthetics but also provided light armor effect. Sabé said nothing though, cataloguing that information into the vault of suspicions she had secretly carried for quite awhile now.

On edge, she turned her attention to the nearby empty space leading up to what looked like some oversized garbage bins. Taking a few careful steps that way, she still managed to bump a foot into something hard that went skittering across the barren floor. Putting her flashlight on it, Sabé's tight expression fell. She slowly went to the object and crouched down, taking hold of her dire discovery. The ghost of the past was in her hand: it was a battle droid's head. Without even meaning to, her mind flashed back to memories of the battle for Naboo. Her eyes raised and locked onto the adjacent garbage bins. In a trance, she rose and went over slowly, the droid's head still on her hand. The bins were almost as tall as she was. She put her foot in a notch, kicked off the ground, and grabbed onto the top edge of the metal bin with her free hand, finding another footing and hauling herself up high enough to see down into the garbage. There, she saw a tangle of discarded and defective droid parts, leftovers from hurried production. She let out a soft breath she hadn't known she was holding, barely able to believe it. Immediately, she tucked the droid's head into her armpit and brought her multi-featured comm up. She began to document the scene.

"What is it?" Obi-Wan asked, hovering close by. A bit further off, Rett waited tensely.

Sabé took a few more stills and then gracefully kicked off and jumped the few feet to the ground, the battle droid's head still in her hand held gravely on display for them both to see. She said nothing, knowing she didn't need to. They had indeed found a secret droid production factory. The question was… who was the buyer? And how many had been made here?


A few hours later, Sabé had taken the discovery of the droid factory and accomplished the following:

She had directed Obi-Wan and Rett to look over every inch of the warehouse with her and in doing so, they had found discarded blaster and ion cannon components in addition to droid parts.

She had Artoo scan the tech station—but it was all erased and irretrievable. She had then accessed the waterlock log—which had not been deleted—to see how many times and when the portal had opened and closed to allow entrance and exit. The last time it had been operated was three days prior, and before then, it had been opened and closed upwards of a hundred times within the span of the two weeks prior.

She had then contacted RDI experts back on Coruscant and sent footage of the machinery and the parts found. Intelligence had run estimates using the machinery count, the size of the space, and the waterlock logs to try and find a ballpark figure on how many droids and weapons might have been produced. It was enough that Sabé got patched through to her direct superior and given the order to get local RDI jurisdiction involved to lock down the scene and await a full investigation.

They then made their way back up to the main levels of Coral City, where by this time sunrise would come soon. Sabé sent Artoo to meet back up with Padmé's ship and then led the way to the federal district of Coral City.

That was where Obi-Wan currently waited, in the quiet lobby of the Republic Department of Intelligence building, which had opened before hours after Sabé had contacted the local director on his emergency channel. The building was tall and proud on the outside, and in the stately interior, polished black and white details put forth a distinguished and minimal aesthetic. Sabé, Rett, and the local RDI agents were finishing speaking in a nearby conference room out of the earshot and eyeline of Obi-Wan—who amusingly enough was told he didn't have the clearance level or something like that. The Jedi master thought over this whirlwind mission as he bided his time, seated on a marble bench near the glass doorways out. Every time he encountered Sabé, he found more to admire about her, and this time was no different. He only had growing appreciation for her prowess, skill, and natural knack for thinking on her feet. His mind turned to her partner, and his thoughts darkened measurably. Rett was full of great conflict and fear. There was something distinctly untrustworthy about him.

Sabé and Rett reappeared finally, Sabé bidding a polite farewell to the three RDI agents who had shown up to receive them. Rett gave a casual and lazy salute to those agents as he walked off from them. Sabé followed after him shortly, irritation directed at him clear on her features. Standing to greet them, Obi-Wan waited curiously to hear what, if anything, he would be let in on. Interestingly enough, Rett gave Obi-Wan a chin thrusting single nod as he passed right by, leaving the building completely with nothing further. His cavalier attitude left much to be desired. Obi-Wan watched the tall man's broad shoulders as he exited the glass doors and jogged lightly down the few stairs leading in, then sauntered away as if he didn't have a care in the world.

Obi-Wan turned his attention to Sabé, whose heavy cloak hung about her like a secret as she approached. "Well, I have transportation lined up for Rett and I in three hours once the rental port opens," she said as she reached him, and he could hear the weariness in her voice. "And as far as what we found, Andros—my superior—wants me back within twenty-four hours for the next directive. I think he's going to take the investigation more official rather than covert now that we know that Tikkes was trying to hide this factory of his, attempted to kill a Senate member, and appears to have fled."

"I see," Obi-Wan replied considerately, then grew a shade more lighthearted. "I assume that means you're releasing me."

She confirmed with a gracious smile and sweep of her hands. "Be free, my friend."

He chuckled lowly at the choice words, not for the first time studying her in a close and curious way. "Can I ask what you'll be doing for the three hours before you depart?" he asked, a smile playing behind his beard. "Or do I not have the clearance to know that?"

A helpless, apologetic little expression came over Sabé's face. She'd actually argued that Obi-Wan didn't need clearance and the formality of such was needless in the situation, but the other RDI agents had disagreed. "Well, I need more caf and some food before I fall over, so…" she nodded and looked through the glass at a diner visible across the way. It appeared to be one of those twenty-four-seven places. Obi-Wan's stomach appreciated the thought of food, but…

He hesitated, caught in an immediate and intense battle between his personal wants and his rationale. His instincts warned him that he was toying with something dangerous every time he spent time with this woman, and that there was no real need to go have a meal with her—he was selfishly tempting fate by seeking to spend time with her. He already knew several times over that for whatever reason, his guard and control came down when he was around Sabé. It wasn't her fault either, which was the part that made it difficult and frustrating. He liked her—he always had. Her company was enjoyable and easy to take part in, and the quality of their friendship was indisputable to him at this point. That wasn't the issue. The issue was that persistent, slow draw between them that they both felt. How many times over in the past nearly seven years had Obi-Wan wanted to reach out to her and know how she was? How many times had he seen something in the publications he thought she'd like to know about or think was amusing? How many times had memories of her cut across his mind out of nowhere, leaving him feeling at first warm, but then hollow, like something was missing?

Despite his feelings, he knew she wasn't purposefully putting him in the position that he was in. Maybe what he wanted most of all was to ensure that their friendship wouldn't suffer—they had parted on tense terms on Naboo last, and it had bothered him for—well, it still bothered him. Perhaps he wouldn't see her for years again after today. That thought struck quite the chord in him, and he knew then clearly that parting on shaky ground after the awkwardness aboard Victorious simply wouldn't do. He had felt things radiating off of her all night since then, try as he might to focus on only his own feelings. She was humiliated and wounded, and it was because of his carelessness of words. He could have told her about their elevated connection in a way that wouldn't have caused her to feel this way. Knowing the sadness and stress she was experiencing was partly because of him, Obi-Wan was caused great empathy and spurred to do something about it. He hesitated once more, his intentions and reservations conflicting. Qui-Gon's advice given years and years ago suddenly came to mind: "Meet yourself. Do it curiously, compassionately. Can you give yourself the bravery to break away from the safety of the commonly tread path? Trust the Force to show you who you are." It then hit him like a lightning bolt: Obi-Wan realized that up until now, he had only been thinking. Not feeling. He reached into the Force, seeking clarity in the infinite pure energy that was there. He felt immediate peace and encouragement, a calling forward. And just like that, Obi-Wan's reservations fell away. "Would you like some company?" he asked Sabé tentatively, aware that she might refuse to save face or something to that effect. "I'm hungry too."

He saw her great surprise at his question that slowly shifted to relief and the softest of real smiles. "Yes," she said warmly, releasing him from a tense feeling he hadn't known he was holding onto. "Of course I would." Something about her relaxed then, which in turn relaxed him too.

Obi-Wan was amazed. His reservations had all been from his thinking mind. Not his feeling Force senses. I still have much to learn, he thought in good-humored wryness to himself as he and Sabé exited the building and crossed the snowy courtyard to the diner. It had snowed heavily overnight, leaving accumulation building. For the time being, Obi-Wan cleared his mind in favor of functioning in the present moment. The diner was a cozy and delicious-smelling place with plush booths beside generous sized windows and shining tables. There weren't many other diners there that early in the morning. Sabé and Obi-Wan sat across from each other at one of the booths away from others and a wait-droid brought menus, a fresh carafe of robust caf, and took their prompt, decisive orders.

As the droid wheeled away to put the orders in, Sabé slumped a bit into her seat—like she was finally giving herself permission to disarm. Outside, snow swirled by as the sky lightened gradually above.

"Not the most successful mission, was it," Obi-Wan asked conversationally as he poured them both a cup of caf. He could sense her conflict and disappointment, especially about Tikkes escaping.

Sabé took hold of her caf idly with one hand, watching the steam rise with a very distracted frown. "I'm not sure. A lot of things about this whole ordeal are really bothering me." She sighed and shrugged, her eyes meeting his and her focus visibly returning to the moment. "I'd rather keep investigating but. You know. Orders."

He did know, and an understanding chuckle sounded in his throat. "Yes, I'm familiar."

Her guarded but hopeful eyes studied his. "Well. This is unexpectedly nice either way. A moment to catch up with an old friend before returning to the nonstop grind back home."

Obi-Wan did heartily agree, and was glad she felt the same. He commented on a very last part of what she'd said though. "You really must be integrated to feel that Coruscant's home now," he mused. "It's so different than Naboo. How do you find it?"

Sabé's face slowly screwed up into something like a grimace as she thought her reply over. "Generally… awful." A joint chuckle floated between them at her animated opinion. "But, I get to go offworld on missions enough to keep me from going too crazy. And I really do enjoy the Botanical Preserve over in the arts district—have you ever been?"

The Preserve—he hadn't thought of it in years, but he could picture her there immediately, her graceful height small in comparison to the giant greenhouse complex where exotic trees the measure of buildings were tended in climate-controlled spaces, with flowers and ivy and all manner of other natural wonders flourishing artfully throughout. "I must confess, not in years," he replied, feeling nostalgia tug at him momentarily. "I think I may have to schedule a visit now though." Perhaps they would run into each other, even, he thought. It seemed that the galaxy, fate, the Force—one or all three, had a way of crossing their paths.

Sabé sipped her caf, eyeing him with a keen gaze for a long moment before she spoke next. "How are things with Anakin these days?" She set her cup down with a soft clink. "Last time we spoke, you were struggling."

Obi-Wan remembered that well, a self-conscious little smile softening his features. "He certainly keeps me on my toes and still challenges me every single day," he admitted. But he didn't feel lost like he had years prior. Tired and disgruntled half the time, yes; but totally out of his element? No. "We've found our stride for the most part now," he said. Part of finding that stride was just accepting that Anakin would always be stubborn, emotional, opinionated to a fault, feelings-driven, and proud. Obi-Wan could only do what he could do. It did feel tiresome at times, but there was deeply abiding care and familial love for his apprentice despite how they clashed in philosophy. They had been through much together, both learning each from the other.

"I'm glad to hear it," Sabé said genuinely, eyes soft.

Obi-Wan sipped his caf, savoring the strong roast. "Zana has to be twenty now, right?" he asked, not sure if his math was quite accurate.

"Twenty-one." Pride made Sabé sit a little taller and appear a little brighter eyed. "And working a medic internship on Coruscant."

Coruscant, he thought in light surprise, putting the pieces of the puzzle together mentally. It might be mere coincidence that the sisters were living on the same planet, or purposeful. He leaned toward purposeful, knowing how close they were. Either way, there was something endearing and encouraging about hearing of Zana's success. "You must be very proud."

"Ridiculously so," Sabé confirmed, then sighed a heavy, sentimental breath as she looked off at nothing. "She's all grown up, Obi-Wan... doesn't need me anymore." She seemed to have meant it as a half joke, but he could hear that Sabé was indeed grappling with the shifting dynamic of her sister being fully an adult.

"Not likely," he returned steadily, a perceptive smile on his face. "I think I know what you mean though. Anakin is at the stage where he seems to think he has it all figured out." Shaking his head in put-on, parental weariness, he sipped his caf again. "Once he figures out that one never figures it out… then I'll know I did my job right."

Sabé gave a soft laugh then leaned an elbow onto the table, resting her face in a hand as a comfortable, pleasant expression remained on her face. "You know, it'd be nice to see Anakin again sometime," she said. "Do you think he even remembers who I am?"

"Oh yes, he went on and on about you and Padmé and your decoy trick for at least a year after we left Naboo," Obi-Wan replied, seeing her real surprise at the information. A knowing smile accompanied the slightest of eyebrow arches as he relayed, a bit proudly, "He was very surprised to learn that I knew about it before most others did."

Sabé was markedly impish. "I'm sure you attempted to turn it into a lesson, too."

"Well the boy needed to understand how important attention to detail is," Obi-Wan returned, to which his companion's smile grew to the beginnings of a grin.

"That's how you knew?" She both teased and asked. "Attention to detail?" Her eyes, so full of guarded thoughts and curiosities, caused him a lapse in focus as he remembered back. Even then, from the very beginning of their interactions with each other… this connection had been there, waiting to be discovered and explored. But the place where it led frightened him.

"Something like that," he replied quietly. He cleared his throat, steering them away from ground that would surely lead to more problems. "Anyway, Anakin will definitely remember who you are." He gave her a friendly smile he would have extended to anyone else. "And since you're in the neighborhood now so to speak, perhaps we can arrange a reunion visit sometime."

She hadn't missed the moment of vulnerability he'd displayed, but she said nothing, choosing to follow his lead. "In all of our ample free time, I'm sure," Sabé said with a jaded little smirk.

"Yes, that," Obi-Wan agreed with a similar expression, knowing that they most likely would only talk about this meetup and never follow through. Studying her current appearance in the borrowed handmaiden's cloak, Obi-Wan found himself thinking of Naboo and Tatooine again, the time when he'd met a young woman with a painted face and a strong spirit whose name, he had eventually learned, was Sabé. "It's been quite the journey watching you go from bodyguard to commander to agent," he reflected out loud, letting ease and friendly suggestiveness temper his voice next. "I can't wait to see what might be next on the docket."

Sabé arched an overly serious brow at him. "I've told you countless times, Obi-Wan. Moisture farming." At the face he made, she feigned being indignant—but couldn't quite pull it off due to the grin she couldn't quash. "I need to relax!"

"You think moisture farming would be relaxing?" Obi-Wan countered, enjoying this joke they'd carried on between them.

Sabé made another face as she lifted her mug up for another sip. "Certainly moreso than all this getting bombed and shot at business."

Obi-Wan crossed his arms and sat back in the booth, studying her pointedly, another knowing smile tugging at his mouth. "I think you like the pandemonium," he asserted.

A theory he'd had for awhile now, and Sabé had little reaction except to confirm it. "You're right. I do." She canted her head to the side. "But… I haven't slowed down in years. Life is passing by and…" her eyes grew distant, sad almost, conflicted. "I haven't had time to just breathe or pursue a personal life in ages." To cover her momentary vulnerability, Sabé compensated with a joking, "I do get tired sometimes, you know."

Obi-Wan was mild as he teased her. "Surely not the invincible Sabé." She let out an entertained but cynical puff at that comment, and Obi-Wan considered asking a question he had privately debated for years now. He felt that asking it would be revealing of himself, but he'd already revealed quite a lot of himself to Sabé. What was a bit more? He hesitated, then broached the topic cautiously. "Can I ask you something? A bit more personal?"

Immediately intrigued, Sabé's caf was forgotten as her eyes became studious and perceptive. "Well, now I have to know," she replied. "Ask away."

Obi-Wan came right out with it the only way he knew how. "Are you and Captain Typho… involved?"

Sabé's face slackened slightly, resulting in an expression he couldn't name. "Obi-Wan Kenobi," she commented in a tone he didn't quite recognize. "What sort of line of questioning is this?" He realized she was both thrilled and afraid at the same time. "Why would that sort of thing interest you?" she asked, trying to be careful but simultaneously implying something he certainly did not miss.

"Mere curiosity," Obi-Wan insisted, trying to sound unbothered and already knowing he had complicated matters by asking. Still, he charged ahead. "There's something between you two, a tension of sorts." I've seen the way he looks at you. I can feel his inclinations. Things Obi-Wan did not speak aloud."I can't help but wonder."

Sabé considered him for a long moment, mostly unreadable. "Well. When we were younger, yes, briefly. But that involvement was too… one-sided." Her eyes grew a little shy of his and she grew distinctly less comfortable, her cheeks flushing just the slightest bit more pink. "He wanted much more than I ever did, so…" Sabé waved a hand, as if she were physically attempting to push the topic away. "We started as friends and we remained friends, even after… that. But he was surprisingly upset when I left the forces to join RDI though. Upset to the point that I felt he was being absurd and selfish. We had a surprisingly explosive fight and haven't really kept in touch since then." She shrugged, and he saw how it saddened her. "I think that's the tension you're sensing," she finished, then gave him a challenging look. "Are you relieved?"

Obi-Wan hadn't anticipated her to be so blunt, but he supposed his question had earned him as much. "I knew I shouldn't have asked," he said, trying for a joking tone, but he could hear the internal conflict in his own voice easily.

Sabé regarded him without pretense. "Well, I'm not involved with anyone," she clarified, and Obi-Wan felt his chest clench up in a nonphysical way. He was glad to hear that, and no manner of trying to deny it to himself would change that. Before he could slap himself with judgments, Sabé asked him a question without asking him a question. "And… I assume you aren't either."

His eyes locked with hers, and the room felt distinctly warmer. "My stance hasn't changed since we last spoke about it, no," he answered truthfully.

"Hm." She folded her arms onto the table and leaned forward slightly, as if this were an interrogation. She was impossible for him to look away from. "Well now, I think it's my turn to ask a question," she said so softly it could have been a whisper. Obi-Wan swallowed. Oh dear. He was both nervous and morbidly curious to know what she would want to know. "How inebriated were you, exactly?" she asked cautiously, and Obi-Wan felt an electric jolt in response as he immediately understood her context-free question.

He'd blamed pilfered alcohol for the kiss that had transpired between them. In that moment, he had panicked, unsure of how to explain away how a devoted Jedi Knight who had willfully elected from youth to remain celibate and deny himself physical relationships of any nature—had so easily fallen into the arms of this woman.

A coward's response upon his reflection, which is why he had been honest with her before they had landed on Naboo, telling her that in a different lifetime, that moment between them would have ended differently. He'd felt that Sabé deserved the respect of truth and honesty. And seeing that his conviction was still the same to this day, he couldn't bring himself to lie about how inebriated he'd been. "Not very, honestly," he admitted quietly.

He saw her swallow as whatever doubts she'd maintained about their connection were washed away. "That's what I thought," she replied softly, then took a chance and spoke her truth, too. "Neither was I."

Those three words were both her confessing to him and beseeching him. And he couldn't. Obi-Wan, a Jedi with a reputation for being skilled with negotiation and diplomacy, found himself completely at a loss for how to get himself out of this without offending or hurting her.

At that moment, the wait-droid reappeared with a tray bearing the breakfasts they'd ordered, and thankful for the intrusion, Obi-Wan retreated into silence for a few moments, questioning himself and this situation deeply again, busying himself cutting into the savory pastry and side of protein scramble he'd ordered. He asked the Force for answers, but it remained lofty and elusive to him in that moment.

Across the table from him, Sabé backed off completely, regretting her forwardness and the clear discomfort it had caused. For years it had been a thorn in her side, the endless internal debate of if that kiss would have happened if that bottle of Nyriaan liquor hadn't been there. And now she knew. Doubts from even earlier that day were gone, replaced by an entirely new feeling of being completely overwhelmed. The extent of his feelings wasn't entirely clear, but… he did have them, and that was enough to put her in a new galaxy of confusion, pain, and longing. It wasn't too difficult to put herself into Obi-Wan's shoes as she sat there and pushed the flatcakes she'd ordered around without an appetite. She understood his responsibilities, calling, and convictions. She understood that their elevated connection complicated things, mostly for him. And that fact stressed her. She imagined that if she were him, she might cut off all contact after this, avoid future run-ins, and eliminate any risk of dalliance that way. Maybe, Sabé reasoned, she could convince him, and herself, that there wasn't a risk. Maybe she could turn this around and go back to being businesslike somehow. As much as the thought of never knowing how deep this connection went crushed her, the thought of being strangers to each other was far worse.

So, she thought for a few seconds, then forced herself to begin eating as if nothing were wrong at all. Then with a casual, upbeat tone, she delved into a relevant topic, hoping to muddle through. "You know, I've been curious ever since I found out Count Dooku was Qui-Gon's former Master. Did you ever meet him?"

Obi-Wan looked distinctly thrown off for the fraction of a second, pausing mid-chew. He finished the bite and wiped his mouth politely with a napkin, maybe taking those few seconds to gather himself and switch tracks. "No, I saw him in passing a handful of times but he left the Order when I was in my early teenage years." Eyeing her thoughtfully, Obi-Wan definitely seemed relieved that Sabé had guided the conversation back into less charged waters. "He's certainly created quite the problem, hasn't he?"

To put it mildly. "And it's only growing more of a threat by the day," she agreed, mind straying to work matters for a moment. Dooku, who had left the Jedi Order years ago, was quite the person of interest in the RDI halls. He was thought to be a very credible threat with his Separatist rhetoric and the Confederacy of starsystems he was building, and attempts to pin him down and find his base of operations had all failed. His current presence here on Mon Calamari hadn't missed Sabé's radar. It was interesting timing considering the droid factory and Tikkes running away. And more interesting still was when she'd privately notified headquarters just after arrival that Dooku was there, RDI had said it was already handled. Sabé failed to see evidence of that, but did understand that part of RDI operations was keeping things to levels of clearance. She was a mid-ranking agent, not cleared for certain intel. "I'm curious. How common is it for Jedi to leave the Order like he did?" she questioned, half for herself and half because RDI didn't have much intel on the more secretive, private Jedi Order. "Does that happen much?"

Obi-Wan was tentative in his reply. "It does happen, but not very often at all." He paused, brow furrowing in deep consideration, like he was trying to see why she wanted to know. "The path of a Jedi is a lifelong one. A chosen path. The public tends to think of us as a cult sometimes, but each and every Jedi is free to leave if we wish."

It was then that Sabé got the feeling that Obi-Wan perhaps had the wrong idea of her questions. "I've never thought of the Order as a cult, just so we're clear," she said to get that out of the way. She hesitated, then went ahead and said it anyway: "Especially not after meeting you."

A cautious eyebrow raise and guarded gaze met hers. "Oh?"

Sabé took hold of her caf again, focusing on the circle of chocolate-colored beverage inside of her mug. "Until the day you dropped out of the sky, the idea of the Jedi was just that. An idea. Something sort of… mythical, I guess." She smiled, caught in nostalgia as she thought of how much younger they'd both been. Ten years felt like an entire lifetime. "Obviously, after spending time together, I realized you're a lot like the rest of us. Only with a more noble inclination toward how the galaxy ought to function," she said, thinking out loud as she remembered. Then she chanced an open, somewhat pleading look into his eyes, hoping very much that despite all the awkwardness they'd generated during this mission together, they could find a way past it. "I think you know how deeply I respect you and your path, and the Jedi as a whole. Or I hope you do." She meant that one two levels. The first being the words for what they were. The second meaning she understood that she shouldn't push his boundaries, and would not do so again to her best ability.

Obi-Wan's eyes held nothing but understanding as the apprehension there abated. "Yes, I certainly do. Thank you."

Sabé breathed in deeply, relaxing a little again and sipping at her drink languidly, taking in Obi-Wan with his borrowed Naboo officer uniform and topknot of gingerbrown hair, his neat beard, his kind and careworn eyes. The uniform especially inspired her next line of thought. "But I do still have to wonder," she said conversationally, feeling it safe enough to broach a subject like this one: "Do you ever speculate about who you'd be if you hadn't been born Force sensitive?"

Obi-Wan grew reflective, and it was easy to see his answer before he said it. "Yes, at length. It's very interesting to contemplate shifts in fate and the effect they'd have." He slid a finger along the rim of his caf mug, his eyes soft on invisible memories. "I actually still remember my brother from my birth family, vaguely," he confessed, a fact that Sabé immediately found intriguing and bittersweet somehow. "But not my parents. And very little else." He contemplated the mug a moment. "I think I'd be fundamentally the same person, just… on some different path," he said, then came out of his thoughts and became suddenly cheeky almost, folding his arms and leaning forward as he turned the metaphorical table on her. "And do you wonder?" he asked. "If you had perhaps been born Force sensitive?"

She never had, but it took her all of three seconds to come up with her reply. Something playful and not serious, something to break the ice between them further. "I think I'd amuse myself by making it my job to try and outdo you every step of the way," she declared, daring him in this imaginary scenario to even think about outwitting the numerous pranks and friendly competitions she'd subject him to.

A smile passed between them, and his eyes twinkled as their repertoire relaxed into their old standard. "I don't have a difficult time picturing that at all," he said, shaking his head. "Working for RDI really does suit you though, my friend."

At the mention of her agency, Sabé's mood cooled off several notches. There was a lot weighing on her about the department. "It has its moments," she said, trying for an equally light reply. But Obi-Wan was too observant to that.

"What is it?" he asked, growing more intent. It was almost like he'd been waiting for this topic to come up. Like he knew something she hadn't even told him about.

Sabé glanced around, her light spirit evaporating completely as she debated if she should share her most guarded and suspicious thoughts with Obi-Wan or not. A nudge of something—a quiet yes that came from somewhere she didn't know—gave her either the courage or the abandon required to lean closer and drop her voice low. "This might sound crazy to you, but I think Rett was lying today about getting hit in the head," she said quietly. "I asked him during the briefing at RDI a few moments ago for more details of how he got attacked at the reception. He said someone hit him in the back of the head." Obi-Wan's eyebrows began to rise as his expression turned from curious to the beginnings of dismay. "Right," Sabé said, seeing that he remembered what she did. "You and I both saw a red mark on the front of his head. A mark that faded in a couple of hours completely." She hesitated, her heart beating hard in her chest and mouth becoming dry. Sharing this aloud made her palms sweat. "Mixups happen. Sometimes the details slip my mind too, but…" his injury had struck her as false from the second she'd seen it, and his report of being hit in the back of the head? She knew he was lying. "I've worked something like twenty assignments with him over the past three years since he was recruited," she continued, her voice a tense whisper at this point. They leaned across the table, Obi-Wan listening in rapt tense silence as she continued. "He's a terrible agent, Obi-Wan. Accident prone, forgetful, messy. He compromises situations left and right. Things go missing, things get lost when he's around. But then suddenly in some moments, he'll be absolutely sharp and capable and on top of things. Almost like… a split personality. For awhile I thought I was just being paranoid or reading into things." Sabé wet her lips briefly. "I'm a skeptic by nature Obi-Wan. I know this about myself so I very often don't give a lot of credit to my thoughts because they're… overly cautious in some situations." Shaking her head, Sabé set her jaw. "But with Rett… there's a pattern. And something's very off."

Obi-Wan took a moment to slowly put together what she was telling him. "You're saying… he's somehow in league with Tikkes?" he asked in astonishment.

"No…" Sabé said, then rethought. "Well. Maybe." Then she reconsidered again, frustrated. "I'm not sure." He was in league with someone and she'd been quietly suspicious of that for some time in the back of her mind, but there was a nail in the coffin finally today, and it wasn't his supposed head injury. "The drive Artoo was recovering?" she reminded, "I checked it before I sent him off back to Padmé." Without Rett seeing, of course. "That drive was functional and working when we left Padmé's ship," she said, watching Obi-Wan's expression grow even more astounded. "Sometime between then and when I checked it, it got fried. Totally useless." It had taken everything she had not to react when she subtly checked it. Valuable information that couldn't be recovered now since Tikkes tech station had been stripped when he fled.

"What?" Obi-Wan breathed.

Sabé nodded, shooting a brooding glare out the window at nothing. "There's a few substances that will short out the systems in those drives," she muttered, her best theory that Rett had some on him and had managed to render the drive to a lump of useless metal by passing it closely by the device. "Rithium, Caldraxamin…"

"When would he have done that?" Obi-Wan cut in, then realized a second later with widened eyes. "When he knocked into Artoo."

"Only he didn't knock into him," Sabé pointed out. "We would have heard it. Artoo was trying to tell us what happened when he made all that noise."

Obi-Wan breathed in deeply, the influx of information causing him a great moment of shocked, silent thought. "This is—this is treasonous, Sabé," he said with growing concern. "You should go to someone higher up in the department, he might be working for another department or agency."

Sabé had thought of that. She had thought of something else, too. "Or he could be working for RDI," she said with quiet certainty that rendered him shocked all over again. Sabé leaned even closer, her privately kept theories and questions and observations all swirling. "What if someone higher up put Rett in the department? What if he's one of many? What if that's why he's never fired and still, to this day, put with me on the important missions? All while I have many other partners who do much better work than him. What if he's a plant?" She glanced around again, paranoid. "I've filed numerous complaints on him multiple times. My direct superior actually agrees, but Andros is always vetoed by his superiors when he tries to get Rett removed from assignments."

Obi-Wan's astute, suspicious frown remained. "What reason do they give?"

Sabé was grim. "Agent shortage. Which could very well be true, but even if it were, why would they send one of their most verifiably incompetent agents on such critical missions?"

Across the table, Obi-Wan frowned even more deeply, the reality hitting him visibly. "This means that you suspect that the entire agency is corrupt!" he exclaimed softly.

"I don't have any evidence of that," Sabé replied, then amended herself. "Yet." It was still something she couldn't even begin to guess at. All she had was theories. "Maybe one or more figureheads are corrupt. Maybe the whole damn department."

Obi-Wan was shaking his head, completely taken aback. "This all sounds exceedingly dangerous, Sabé. And why would you continue to work for a department you can't trust?"

It wasn't that simple. It went very deep. "The entire galaxy trusts RDI, Obi-Wan. Think about it. There's a branch in nearly every sector. Agents stationed both publicly and covertly all across the starsystems. Not even I know the extent of how many agents there are and what they do—and I work at the flagship location, for kriff's sake." She could be totally wrong, and only privy to one small faction of RDI that was corrupt. Or, it could be massive, galaxy-wide operation. "I took the job because I'm invested in seeing the Republic function with integrity. I thought that RDI protected the people. So now that I'm aware of the situation, I can't just walk away. Not until I know more." In fact, it felt like duty to the Republic to figure this out. "I know we do good, I see the department prevent disasters and catch criminals all the time. I've done so many things I'm proud of. But… something bigger is going on. What Rett did today proves that to me."

There was a dark, foreboding silence from Obi-Wan. "Perhaps the separatists are planning something much larger than we know," he mused, a muscle in his cheek jerking. "Perhaps they've infiltrated RDI."

Sabé thought about that, a dawning thought creeping in. "You know, it wasn't until a couple years ago I really started having suspicions."

"Which is around when Dooku publicly came forward with his Confederacy movement," Obi-Wan put in grimly, putting a hand to his bearded chin as he processed everything. "This is all deeply troubling to hear. Thank you for trusting me with this information." He eyed her hopefully. "Have you considered alerting the Jedi Council formally?"

Sabé immediately shook her head. She hadn't thought about it once until he said that. "No." She hadn't even put some things together until today—everything was coming to a head as they spoke. "I need some kind of hard evidence, not just conjecture. And…" she hated to admit it, but, "I'm very worried about the personal risk."

Obi-Wan didn't judge her. "As you should be." He held her gaze solemnly. "You have my word I won't share it with a single soul."

Nodding, Sabé managed a tense, forced smile. "Thank you." She was a little surprised at herself and everything she'd just relayed to him. "I didn't have intentions to even tell you all this today. I'm sorry if I've overstepped."

"No, not at all. I'm glad you have." Obi-Wan still seemed incredibly worried. "Have you shared your suspicions with any of your colleagues?"

Sabé felt a self conscious, wan expression pull her mouth into a flat line briefly. "I don't think that I trust them enough," she admitted, eyes darting under his steady gaze when she realized what she implied. "I know. It seems strange to trust a man I've met only a handful of times in life over people I work with daily."

Obi-Wan considered briefly, then reassured her. "I'd probably find it strange if I didn't feel similarly," he said, an implied 'about you' leaving Sabé's throat to catch and gaze to grow more steadfast on his.

Sabé swallowed dryly, wondering how it might go if there came a time when she felt she had no other choice but to expose RDI. "Do you trust the Order, Obi-Wan?"

His reply was without reservation. "Yes. Implicitly. And I will until I'm given reason not to." He had great measures of concerned empathy for her, which comforted her greatly. "I can't speak to what you should do, or give you a non-biased opinion I'm afraid, but a healthy level of skepticism is completely understandable. I hold no institution or sentient being infallible by any means, and you're right to be wary of who you go to with this information you're uncovering." Sabé nodded, realizing just how much of a dire dilemma she was in. But Obi-Wan made sure she knew that she wasn't entirely alone. "As long as I'm here, I hope you know you can come to me with anything in complete confidence. I mean it, Sabé."

He was a good, good man. She'd always known it, but that conviction only grew every time she saw him and spent time with him. An unmistakable feeling of deeply abiding affection and care that had been growing slowly over time suddenly exploded ten feet taller in her heart, and emotion flooded Sabé. "Thank you Obi-Wan," she all but whispered, having a hard time finding her voice as she smiled through the sentimental flare. He was a rare kind—she didn't think anyone quite like him had ever existed before or ever would again. And feeling too much, Sabé cleared her throat and shook her head, needing to shut this conversation down. "And that's about all the serious talk I can manage today I think."

"Understandable," Obi-Wan agreed readily, glancing at a nearby chrono then giving her an easy smile. "By my watch, we have about two and a half hours or so left to pass before you depart," he said, refreshing their dwindling mugs of caf helpfully. "Would telling me a bit about everything I've missed in the past seven years be too serious a topic?"

More warmth like sunshine bloomed in her chest at his kindness, his consideration, and the fact that he wanted to truly catch up. "No, I don't think it would be too serious a topic," she said, a hesitant smile playing on her lips as she wondered about his last seven years too. "But only if you return the favor."

He readily agreed, and for the next two hours, the pair of them drank caf leisurely, traded stories of their adventures, their ups and downs, of Zana and Anakin. Talk strayed to political commentary, social observations, philosophy, commiseration, with of course plenty of jests, jokes, and fond digs at each other scattered in—it was an easy and ambling interaction, requiring no effort to think of what to say next. No more compromising moments arose, thankfully, and Sabé was reminded of how generally painless it was to just be with Obi-Wan.

After she paid the bill by slipping credits to the wait-droid when he was refilling his mug (she knew he'd try to pay and enjoyed the one-up when he realized what she'd done), they left together and Obi-Wan insisted on walking Sabé to the transport center. With the mood light, even happy, after their time together, Sabé felt a certain trouble-making inclination come over her. Maybe it was the crispness of the winter morning putting more bounce in her step, maybe it was a flashback to her pranking ways of her younger years, but with all the accumulated snow around, Sabé had suddenly stopped mid step, waited for Obi-Wan to turn around when she fell out of stride with him, then threw a hastily gathered snowball at him when he did, laughing openly at his sputter of surprise… then shrieking when after a few stern beats, he suddenly stooped and grabbed a snowball of his own to launch at her.

A brief, childlike snow fight ensued that neither one would ever claim or confirm if asked about it. It left them laughing at their absurdity and wet in places from snow, shaking their heads at each other and themselves.

Once at the rental port, Sabé gave him a smile that started from her eyes, and told him she hoped it wouldn't be another seven years. Then as she made to go inside, Obi-Wan stopped her. "Wait." She turned, curious. He approached her, closing the distance she'd made. "Let's exchange comm frequencies," he said, eyes apprehensive on the port hangar behind her where Rett waited with a droid employee by the ship he'd commissioned. Obi-Wan looked back at Sabé, his once again worried eyes saying it all. "I want you to be able to get into contact with me if you need to."

Sabé took his meaning and nodded, seriousness returning. "All right."

They exchanged frequencies and then Obi-Wan acknowledged that there was nothing left to do but part. "Well," he said, one word carrying the weight of all he didn't say.

Sabé echoed him in kind. "Well." She touched his arm briefly to squeeze, her eyes searching his as she wondered how long it would be until they met again. She couldn't think too much about it. "Goodbye Obi-Wan," she said quietly. "Take care of yourself." She reached up and bopped him on his bun, grinning roguishly. "And get a haircut!" And with that, she walked away, resolved to not look back, to not regret. To only accept.

Obi-Wan stayed until he saw the ship lift off into the air, his conflicted eyes following the shape of it as it disappeared into the sky. Knowing she lived on Coruscant would cause him to see the skyline a different way now—he already knew where his gaze would stray to when he looked out over the federal district from here on out.


Later
Coruscant's Federal District

Rett entered his RDI commissioned apartment building noisily, throwing his jacket down and unceremoniously tossing his weapon holster onto the messy kitchenette table there. He hadn't even been inside for twenty seconds seconds before his integrated holo system began to blink and chime, signaling an incoming transmission. Jaw clenched and eyes dark, he contemplated the blinking light with hatred. But he knew that ignoring was not an option. With an angry punch of his fingers to the accept broadcast, Rett watched the fuzzy blue image flicker to life before him.

It was, predictably, the familiar gaunt face belonging to the man who had showed up one day three years ago in the spice mines. Rett felt more hatred seethe, clenching his fists as his skin crawled. "Report," Greejatus commanded.

The only small comfort Rett could ever come up with is that he knew the identity of his puppeteer, despite the attempts to hide it. Janus Greejatus, one of Supreme Chancellor Palpatine's advisors and representatives, had always taken care not to reveal who he was—wearing a hood, speaking in an altered voice—but that hadn't mattered. Rett might have been a nothing and no one, a former enslaved scum turned pawn, but he was a lot smarter and more resourceful than he let anyone know. It had taken him the better part of a year, but he'd discovered the identity of his captor. Greejatus wouldn't ever know all that Rett had on him until the day that Rett somehow exacted his revenge.

"I destroyed all incriminating evidence as directed," Rett reported, dread creeping up. He knew better than to lie. Greejatus had eyes everywhere. "But… they did find the factory." He bristled defensively, knowing what was coming next. "There was nothing I could do, trust me."

Greejatus's sallow face showed contempt. "I tire of your weak excuses," he growled. "Do you despise your brother so much you would continue to test me this way? I thought we understood each other."

At the mention of Helt, still enslaved in the same spice mines Rett had been taken from, terror struck. "I'm doing the best I can!" he protested in vehement desperation.

"Do better, or you know what happens," Greejatus threatened with finality.

Reality defeated him, the situation rendering Rett powerless. His brother was to continue being held over his head for the next seven years until he earned Helt's freedom by doing whatever Greejatus commanded. The tracking implant that Rett had been forced to accept ensured he could never go anywhere unauthorized without consequences. He clenched his fists and bowed his head in submission to the man who held his leash. He knew there were others just like him scattered throughout the ranks of RDI, indentured servants to Greejatus' bidding. "Yes, sir," he forced himself to say calmly. "It will not happen again."

"Good." The image winked out.

Rett picked up an object off the nearby shelf and blindly threw it against the wall in rage. One day he would have enough credits, enough power, and enough resources to escape the grip of Greetus once and for all, rescue Helt from the mines, and leave all of this behind. But for now, he was trapped, playing a false character to every last person he could think of. Never off his guard. Never at peace. Always looking over his shoulder as he tried to play both sides to keep his brother and himself alive.

Rett collapsed to sit on his bed, his head falling into his hands as he openly wept.


Author's Note: Whew, this chapter is SO long. I dropped a LOT of plot on all of you - let me know if you have any questions, heh! Also, wow. We are about to get into AOTC/Clone Wars storylines now, holy moly. Quarantine has me churning chapters out much faster than I thought. Hope you're enjoying! Leave me a note about what you're looking forward to most along with your review - xoxo!