A Familiar Path

By Jemmiah

He'd had no idea who the padawan was, except that he was young and fresh-faced, probably straight from the crèche. Something about the way his hair sat in protest, upright from his scalp, told Obi-Wan that this was probably the first time the boy's hair had ever been shorn tight against his head; the stumpy little tail behind his ear lending weight to his theory.

Good. Too young to know anything except truth and honesty. Too young to suspect any interior motives that he, the gallant, Sith-slaying knight may well have hidden away…

He needed someone who would obey without question, who would do as he asked. The padawan was his means to an end; and as he glanced down at the other end of the crowded room Kenobi could make out his quarry standing silently against the wall, glass in hand, making no real effort to join in the festivities that had been laid out on behalf of Simeon Cates and his new wife.

She looked sad, Obi-Wan thought silently, watching her every move. Rela had been right. Something had happened. Not just anything: something big. He'd tried of course to get more information from both Rela and Simeon but it had not been forthcoming; hardly surprising given the fact they had more important things to concern themselves with. At least that was what Obi-Wan was assuming; Rela hadn't seemed particularly comfortable discussing Jemmiah when he'd quizzed her.

Alone at a party? And deliberately seeking to be so? Yes, something was very wrong there. Obi-Wan looked around for Jonas - and then received his answer: Jonas Suul was not there.

If he's forced her to this wedding unaccompanied then small wonder she's displeased. Obi-Wan's lips thinned sympathetically, knowing how much Jemmiah relished security. Perhaps they've had words and have fallen out?

What made him think she would speak to him?

After a further fifteen minutes of observation Obi-Wan had witnessed Jemmiah deftly and courteously brush off polite conversations with both Zac and Tanni, smiling at them with a britleness he'd rarely seen in her before. They'd taken the hint, bowed, and retreated to mingle with the others, awarding each other nonplussed shrugs as they'd moved away. Clearly they were just as baffled as he, Obi-Wan, remained.

He had to find out!

Obi-Wan called the padawan over, one of Simeon's banister sliding ex-patients no doubt, allowed to attend through a combination of Cate's wishes and the good will of the boy's master. A mere child, nothing more, of perhaps eight or nine years of age with dark brown hair and eyes, who stood looking up at him as if he were sleepwalking through some kind of dream. Ever since the day he'd returned from Naboo Obi-Wan had gotten used to that expression, the adulation and the hushed awe. Here was a man who had slain a Sith! Impressive it may well have been but Kenobi disliked looking back on that time, for the victory had come at the cost of his master's life…

Weddings were no time for sorrows, he reminded himself sternly, straightening his slightly rounded shoulders in response to his own mental rebuke. Besides, he had to concentrate. He had to get to the bottom of this. He had to see her again, just this one last time…

"Master Obi-Wan?" The boy bowed hesitantly.

"Don't be afraid." Obi-Wan offered him a cheerful smile, patting the youngster on the shoulder. "I'm in need of some help, and I think you can be of assistance. Would you like to help me?"

The innocent face lit up just as he expected it to. Perhaps he was using his own unwanted fame and celebrity on this occasion, and whilst doing so made him more than a little uncomfortable Obi-Wan knew he just couldn't go crawling right over to her, not unless he wanted to be treated the same cool manner she'd treated Zac or Tanni.

"Yes, Master Obi-Wan." The child bowed yet again, delighted by the unexpected honor. "How can I help?"

Obi-Wan steered the boy over to the doorway and crouched down until he was the same height as the child, sitting back on his heels. Throughout the crowds of well wishers he could still see her. Even half the galaxy away he could still see her in his mind's eye, and sense when she was happy or when she was upset. Recently, Obi-Wan had been quick to note, their had been much unhappiness. Not even the slightly envious element of his heart could find gladness in that. She had chosen Jonas and had been content in her married life with him. Even Rela had said so.

So where was Jonas now?

"The young lady in the blue dress." He pointed over at Jemmiah, still standing against the wall and looking as if she'd rather be a million parsecs away judging by the miserable manner in which she stared into her half full wineglass. "Do you see her?"

It was a silly question. Ninety percent of the guests were wearing Jedi tunics, and those who were not didn't stand out the way Jemmiah always did in assemblies of this nature. The padawan might not even have been aware of who Jemmiah was; it was entirely possible after all, for she had vacated the temple some years ago on her marriage to Suul.

"Yes, Master Obi-Wan." Nodded the apprentice solemnly.

"I would like you to take her this note." He reached into his tunic and located the folded flimsy, over which he had sweated tears of blood until he'd finally found a short little message that conveyed his thoughts adequately. "Can you do that for me?"

The padawan was clearly wondering why a great man such as Obi-Wan Kenobi couldn't take the note to the girl in the blue dress himself, but he quickly covered his initial surprise with a curt nod. It was not his place to wonder, but to do as requested.

"Yes, I'll go now."

"Good boy." Smiled Obi-Wan, hoping that his words of praise would be enough reward. "I am very grateful to you."

The padawan toddled along, past the crowds, dodging people three times his own height in some instances, with Obi-Wan's sight trained fervently upon him. As the dark haired apprentice fingered the flimsy a few times in nervous fashion, Obi-Wan swallowed. He saw the boy pause momentarily in the middle of the floor, trying to read the name on the outside of the letter. Did it matter if he did? The name Jemmiah Suul would hardly mean anything to him, would it? Nor would Obi-Wan's past interest in her.

He watched the padawan until he saw him safely to Jemmiah's side, reaching out and tugging at the blue dress by way of getting her attention, and witnessed the note being passed from his own hand into hers. That was all that Obi-Wan needed to see, and hastened towards the turbo lift that would take him back to the apartment he now shared with Anakin Skywalker. No need to watch her expression, or guess how she had felt on hearing his name being uttered again, or seeing his handwriting laid out before her in fine, inky strokes.

"Come and see me," the note had declared.

Now only time would tell whether she would summon the courage to do just that…

Obi-Wan waited, and waited…and waited some more.

He'd developed into a more patient person since he'd become mentor to young Anakin but then again he hadn't any choice in the matter. His padawan was smart, helpful and intelligent yet inclined even at such a young age to try and push Obi-Wan's limits as much as he could possibly get away with. That of course was what most young children did to their masters, exploring exactly how far they could go before getting a rebuke. Obi-Wan had not been so different himself, and indeed Qui-Gon seemed for the most part to enjoy the challenge of his apprentice's stubborn, resolute streak. Still, even Obi-Wan had known when to graciously back down…

Most of the time.

Jemmy had been different. Whilst Qui-Gon had been just as strict with her as he had whilst training padawans there was little that Jemmiah wouldn't do to twist the master around her finger until he gave way. It was a special skill that the Corellian girl had, being able to use her radiant brand of charm to win people over to her own way of thinking. She could attract people without even realizing she was doing so…

And was still doing so, evidently. That was why he was sat in the semi-dark, waiting for her to knock on the door, and wondering if she ever would. Anakin was away with Toms that week on the trip to Chandrila, and even though Obi-Wan felt slightly guilty for thinking it he couldn't help but be glad. There were things he needed to speak to Jemmiah about; things left unspoken for far too long.

They'd parted politely, if frostily the day she'd finally left to be with Jonas, but it hadn't been a proper goodbye, not in his book. Regret was such a useless thing to feel after all the time that had passed: the damage to their friendship had surely long been done. Even an overture such as the one he had just made in the hope of re-establishing that much missed and lamented camaraderie seemed doomed to almost certain failure. She would not come, and he would be left alone in the dark to sit and brood, and wonder why he had managed to make a mess of such a simple thing as apologising to her, something he'd had much practise at in the past…

The hesitant tapping at the door broke Obi-Wan's concentration.

As he walked across the room, avoiding some of the gadgetry that Anakin seemed so adept at leaving scattered wherever it shouldn't be, Obi-Wan's brain registered surprise that Jemmiah would turn up at all. He'd all but convinced himself that she would not want to see him, and was resigned to it, yet the force backed up everything his ears told him: she had voluntarily come to him. Stepping up his pace lest she should decide to back away before he got to the door, Obi-Wan toggled the control to the doorway and allowed the shiny surface to slide back…

Jemmiah stood there, head half bowed, clutching at his flimsy note like it were her only valid reason to visit, twisting it agitatedly round her fingers. Obi-Wan found himself with the opportunity to admire her close up once again, but dared not do so for fear she might take offence and turn tale, fleeing. Her chestnut hair was pinned decoratively to the top of her head as was the fashion, but Obi-Wan found himself barely able to tear his own eyes away from her own. Two molten pools blinked back at him, nervous and uncertain, rimmed by two rings of black. How he had once admired those enchanting eyes!

But that's all in the past… Obi-Wan squirmed against the stirrings within his heart, resisting all efforts to secure his affection again. I cannot go down that path again no matter how I feel…it leads nowhere we've not already been. And for what? One tawdry week alone?

The knight felt the color in his cheeks mount, glad that it was dark within his rooms. He was fighting a losing battle and he knew it. He'd known it the moment he'd set eyes on her again, long before he'd sent the young padawan to deliver his note. Why was he pretending it wasn't so? Fooling himself would achieve nothing.

"Jemmiah…" he offered her his most sincere smile and stepped aside, bidding her enter the room. "It's…it's good to see you again."

Toying with the flimsy, Jemmiah didn't dare to risk returning the look his sea change eyes condescended to give her. She could well remember every fine detail about Obi-Wan, from the way he stood when deep in thought and each tiny accompanying mannerism, to the way he swaggered when he walked. Even now Jemmiah had no real idea why she had responded to his note or what there was to be gained in raking over dust which had barely settled.

Why had he asked to see her? And what had made her follow after him?

"Where's Anakin?" she asked in a voice somewhat deeper than Obi-Wan recollected, sounding rough and smoky.

"He's not at the temple this week." Obi-Wan bit back the irritation - and disappointment - he always felt whenever Jemmiah questioned him about Anakin. She'd never been anything but polite to his apprentice but there was perhaps a malingering residue of resentment there which he thought ill-became her. If Anakin had sensed it he had said nothing, but try as hard as he could there was little that could make Jemmiah change the way she felt towards the boy, not even their shared background of down-trodden slavery. Perhaps Anakin was a painful reminder of her own past.

"Camp training for the Draigon clan." He added by way of explanation.

"Lucky Draigon clan." The voice whispered, still not looking at him.

Obi-Wan closed the door behind her and watched the shapely legs carry her across to the center of the floor, where she stood, seemingly at a loss for what to do or how to act. The shields were down this time, thought Obi-Wan, viewing the uncomfortable figure that gave out every possible body signal asking him not to get too close…not to pry. But he had to. He had to know what was wrong. Through the force he could sense the raw and pained emotions as if they were his very own. What could have caused such a reaction?

"I didn't ask you here to talk about Anakin. I wanted to talk about you…"

"I'm not worth discussing." Jemmiah stared obstinately at the ground.

"I don't believe that for a moment. Jemmy…" He slowly stalked his way across the room over to where she stood. "I know something is wrong. And I know that it's something extreme…" She spun away from him, half-turning, but he caught her elbow and moved round with her. "I can see it in the way you hide from me. So, tell me what's happened!"

"Nothing. Nothing's happened." She replied hurriedly, retreating further into herself.

"That's a lie."

"Has Rela said anything to you?" Jemmiah snapped, for the first time daring to risk looking directly into his eyes. Oh, that was a bad move! They were scrutinising her, searching her for every weakness, sensing her vulnerability like a predator singling out the weakest link in the herd. His hair, she noticed with interest, came down to the shoulders, but thankfully of the beard there was no sign. Perhaps Rela had demanded he get rid of it.

"Rela wouldn't say anything - and that in itself alerted me to the fact that something had happened." Obi-Wan persisted, looking into the upturned copper eyes, still shining brightly amidst the dulled room. "Do you want to tell me?"

"No."

"Why not?" Demanded Obi-Wan.

"Because I choose not to."

"I can help you." Obi-Wan was stood right in front of her now, so close that Jemmiah could feel his breath on her skin. What did he think he was doing? She didn't want his help! How dare he presume to think that he could do anything to alleviate the pain that she was feeling! "Qui-Gon told me to make sure that you were looked after. I know that Jonas has that role now but I still want to be of help in any way that I can…"

He'd caught the flinch as he'd deliberately mentioned her husband's name, like voltage intensity right through her body. Now he had his answer. Jonas was no longer in the picture. Jonas had somehow hurt her. Even whilst he felt anguished on her behalf that small spark of hopefulness had rekindled in his own mind, and no matter how he pushed it away it wouldn't leave him.

"You can't help." Jemmiah's voice was small, defeated.

"You've left him?"

The answer was a long time in coming, but arrived in the form of a single brisk nod - and an unexpected eruption of tears. Obi-Wan stepped back slightly, uncertain what to do. He never knew how best to react when she cried, because those occasions were few and far between. It was like being permitted to see a chink in her formidable armour, when Jemmiah felt unable to keep up her usual pretence that everything was all right in the galaxy.

She'd half covered her face, whether through embarrassment or grief he couldn't say, making it difficult to offer her any solace. Obi-Wan pulled her gently into as comforting an embrace he could manage, rocking her slightly in his arms, her tears wet against the open neck of his tunic.

"Shhh. You'll be okay." He soothed her, tightening his arm around her side as he spoke. "You will be. Given time…"

"It's not fair." Obi-Wan thought he heard her say. "I tried so hard…"

"Then you've nothing to blame yourself for." He placed a small kiss on the top of her forehead, breathing in the slightly perfumed scent of her hair. It had been a considerable time since he had been in this position, he admitted, holding her closer to him. Certainly since he and Jemmiah had gone their separate ways there had been only one other - and Rela had rightly pointed out her unsuitability, even though Obi-Wan remained certain her cutting remarks had been made out of loyalty and a partisan love for Jemmiah.

Without realising it, the kiss had turned into several of its kind, trailing all the way down from her forehead to the base of her neck. Frightened eyes regarded him for a moment, shocked and perplexed at how the chaste embrace had suddenly become something more ardent with little effort from either of them. So easy to slip back into old ways…but what good would it do? What was the point in revisiting the past when it was already known to them? The same rut, but a different - if familiar - wheel…

"We never did get to say goodbye, did we?" Obi-Wan breathed intensely, placing another kiss at the side of her mouth, delighting in the way that she closed her eyes and let him continue with his caresses. How long had it been since she had been treated lovingly or respectfully? Too long, if what the force told him was true. Much too long…

"Ben…we shouldn't do this." Jemmy shook her head but made no move to push him away. "We should stop."

He bent close to her ear, nuzzling the side of her neck.

"Do you want to?" he asked her.

It was no choice, really. No competition. To love and be loved, or to be ignored…to be valueless and cast off like an old garment no longer fit for use. To wallow eternally in self-pity, or to let herself be comforted by someone who wanted her. Love or emptiness.

She reached out to the long, reddish hair, marvelling at the way it felt underneath her fingers.

"No. I don't want to stop."

"Neither do I." Obi-Wan replied, placing a further kiss against the side of her neck just below her ear. He hadn't planned on a seduction, hadn't planned for any of this, even if he had hoped…but somehow it felt so right, like treading a familiar and much loved road. Anakin was away…oh, yes indeed. It all seemed so perfect, as if the force had somehow engineered the whole thing. Maybe it wasn't so tawdry after all? One week together, and then…

Obi-Wan took her hand and led her unprotesting to the room once inhabited by his master, wondering what Qui-Gon would think of what they were embarking upon. It hardly mattered. Tonight, at least, they would be together.

Wordlessly Jemmiah followed him into the room, leaving the crumpled flimsy note to fall to the floor.