Title: Thin Air

Author: Katieelessar

Rating: K+

Timeframe: JA and age doesn't make a difference

Genre: Angst, Dark

Summary: While watching the small world around him die, Obi-Wan thinks about his own death and what it means for him.

Disclaimer: Star Wars and all of its characters, ships and planets belong to George Lucas. I only play with them.

Author's Note: I put this story up a few months ago but it was taken down because I stupidly put a song in it. I haven't changed anything but some of the format so if you remember it, I would appreciate reviews again!

There was cold. A deep, dark cold that no mind could comprehend save for those in the locked in the prison of the mind. So dark, so blood chilling, bone cutting cold it was. Skin turned shades whiter than what was natural. Lips were bruise colors, parted to drink in the sharp, lung wrenching air. The last of it.

Then when it was consumed, the lips parted again to release the poison. The air filled with this poison, clouding the mind, clouding judgment and releasing the animal that all beings hold inside themselves but keep it at bay for reasons beyond count. Civility is among them. But here, in this closed and dark space, all reasoning is left at the door. Everyone is equal. Everyone can breath. Everyone can fight. Everyone can kill. Everyone can die.

But the question was, who would die first? Logic plays a part in the answer to this question. The obvious answer would be the children who were in a panic mode, sucking in all of the air that was left in the small space before finding there was none left and collapsing. The children would be first. And then…then the elder, the sick and the weak. After that, the ones left would be clinging to life like a hand clutching a slick handlebar.

And as these thoughts began to ripen in young Obi-Wan Kenobi's mind the very thoughts were making themselves tangible. He looked up from his small corner in the room and gazed at the sad and defeated faces of the other seven in the room with him. They were all slaves, captured as they tried to revolt. They had been the only survivors and left with no choice but to surrender. Then locked in this cave—this embrace of death and left, with no food, no water, no air.

Their faces were clouded and shaded with their own thoughts. The first day was spent in silence and all attempts to find escape were made. The next had been no less ambitious, but then the third day came. The day to end all days, Obi-Wan would realize later and shudder.

It was morning when they all rose from their sleep and they all sat back in their own territories, watching, waiting and hoping. Obi-Wan had found that his rations were stolen from him that night but did not dare raise up a complaint for it would do them no good. The children, starved as they were, panicked when they felt themselves grow so weak. The parents tried their best to calm down the three children but they would not listen and continued to wail and weep. After three hours, the children had not quieted and Obi-Wan could feel, almost touch the agitation and nervousness from the other slaves. One man finally broke and went over to one of the children.

'Be quiet, just be quiet! We're all going to die! Don't you understand that! We're all going to DIE!' He shook the child by the shoulders and she stopped her tears immediately, but the frightened look had not been replaced. The father angrily came in between his daughter and the man.

'Leave her be, sir.' He bellowed and pushed her behind him. 'You don't think she understands that. She knows, we all do and it will only be a matter of time before we all suffocate to death. Let her cry for the life she'll never have. Think of it as your last good deed before death.' His eyes were bright flames and he trembled. The man backed down and went back to his corner, avoiding the glances of the others.

Thus, a quiet settled through the small walls and it was deadly.

Obi-Wan had tried repeatedly to contact his master, give him a sign, a feeling, anything that could help lead him to their rescue, but no avail. He was too far away for any message to come through and with their recent argument so near, their bond was not as strong. He let himself despair for a moment, feeling the emotion before letting it go and leaving him with confusion. He was at a loss. There was nothing he could do but watch these men, woman and children die a slow and painful death.

Then, as quickly as the thought passed through his mind, it happened.

One of the children began gasping, chocking for air and the mother hurriedly shook the child to breath. His breath came out quickly, hyperventilating and his skin began to turn a bright red.

'Breath, Ninno, breath! Wren, help me!' She shouted to her husband. He shook his head.

'I'm sorry, Floris, there is nothing to do.'

'Don't say that! Don't you ever say that to me! How could just let our son—our son die!' She shouted and continued to hug the young boy. His face suddenly turned pale and his body went limp. His breath still came out in gasp, but slower, shallower as if it took a huge amount of effort to keep the lungs inflating. She continued to talk, saying things that didn't make sense but to her and every so often would look up into her husband's eyes. They were so full of loss and hopelessness that Obi-Wan felt his heart shatter in a thousand pieces. This was too much for him. Too much. He had never felt so helpless in his life. He was supposed to stop these things from happening! Not watch on like a casual observer! His mind moved frantically, looking for something, anything that could help but he came upon an empty box. There was nothing he could do but watch.

Ninno died five minutes later and his sisters quickly succumbed to death an hour after. The mother was stoic, passive. She felt nothing but deep, cold pain and would not even let her husband comfort her. Tears ran down her face but they meant nothing. Her children were gone. Gone, gone, gone….forever….I will see you soon. She said. I promise. No matter what, I will see you again my darlings.

Obi-Wan pulled his hood up and rolled into a tight ball so no one could see his hot tears course down his cheeks. He could not bear to look up. He couldn't bear to see the pale and blue faces of the children the wife still held in her arms desperately. Never had death so readily distressed him and for once, he wished death would come swiftly.

There was no hope left. Nothing. Nobody would find them in this underground cave. It took them hours of travel to find it and even then the door had been neatly concealed among the rock and stone. He could have made a run for it, he knew. He could have saved himself from this terrible death and maybe went to get help and he almost did. Almost. If only he had remembered the path, if only he had remembered to conceal his lightsaber, if only he had been able to access the Force…but he had not. It had left him. He had turned his back on it and it had done so as well. The fear and terror had been too great for his weak mind; he could not find his center and in doing so, missed every chance he could have taken.

I truly am lost. He thought grimly. And I truly am going to die.

He was ready, as all Jedi were. He was not afraid to die. He was not. What he was afraid of was not being able to fulfill his duty, finish what needed to be finished, say what he would never say, do what he would never do. That is what truly frightened him and let the regret wash over him.

I'll never see Bant, Garen or Reeft again. I'll never feel the cool breeze of the halls after being gone for so long. I'll never be able to taste the excitement and nervousness when going to a Council meeting. I'll never hear the soft laughter and music echoing down the halls of the Temple. I'll never be able to move on and be knighted. I'll never be able to take on a padawan of my own and teach them the ways of the Force and how blessed all Jedi are for such a gift. And I'll never…he swallowed the agonizing lump in his throat. I'll never see Qui-Gon again. Hear his voice, hear his advice, hear his rare and quick laughter. I'll never be able to ask him what this all meant. Why he wasn't able to find us. Why I was captured. Why, why, why! His mind screamed. Why couldn't he understand! Why wasn't he able to do what he could do? Why was he forced to watch others die as his own heart failed him? Why did he feel so lost? Why!

Tears and anguish whipped down his face and he felt himself gasping. Was this what it was like to die? This pain, this feeling of chaos? If so, he wanted it over. Gone.

One by one, the men and women around him began to fall into the same despair as him. The air became thick and poisonous as no air was left. Some cried out, convulsing while others balled themselves up and began to moan. The essence of death hung like a dark cloud above their heads in the dim light.

One by one they died. Slowly, painfully, swiftly. Eyes rolled back into heads. Coughs shook their lingering frames. Fingers twitched. Lips bared. Tongue lolled. Horrible, horrible pain. A great pillow was stuffed down their throats and they chocked. Gone, gone, gone.

Obi-Wan felt himself falling. His heart was ripping apart. The need to save these dead and dying people was overwhelming. So much that he felt sick and was almost violently sick.

Don't move, Kenobi. Save yourself. You know things that will save more people than this. Sometimes the sacrifices of the few are needed to save the many. Where had he heard that before? Of course! He remembered. Qui-Gon had told him that before they started every mission. It was a lesson repeated and remained embedded in his skin. Like a hot brand being pressed against an open palm. Everytime he heard the old lesson a new fire was set in himself and that fire always kept him going until the very end when it was quenched by joy and victory. Only then to be pressed again when the next call for help came.

And now that fire would keep him alive until he could find help. He would use this fire to keep his spirit and mind strong even as the last droplet of oxygen was absorbed into his body. He would not die without a fight. Without a duty. Without a purpose.

With this new resolve he placed his head up and sat up straighter, watching the last man gasp for air. He quickly stood and walked over to him, clasping his hand and staring into the dying eyes.

'Go in peace.' He said. He would not let this man die alone. Not like the others while he despaired. It was a deadly enemy, more so than death for even in death, there is peace.

The man smiled so slightly and went limp. Obi-Wan placed his hand over the open eyes and shut the eyelids as lightly as he could as the pulse beneath his fingers slowed and stopped. He was at peace now. Away from the harsh life of a slave and a prisoner.

'Go in peace.' He whispered again and sat against the wall. 'Go…'

He was weakening.

He knew it before it was said. His mind had become foggy and twisted as he prepared himself for that last leap into death. The clear resolve and stayed with him as the guiding light through the haze but death was pulling him by his heel and never letting go.

No, he said fiercely. Give me more time. Oh Force please give me more time. I have to save these people.

They're dead, Kenobi. The gremlin whispered. You failed.

There was nothing to be done. I will live with their deaths on my shoulders for the rest of my life.

Careful, Kenobi. That life of yours may be ending soon enough.

I will not die without a fight. No leave me! Leave me be! He shouted and his eyes flashed. The dark creature merely laughed and clasped tighter to his leg, pulling him down.

Suddenly, the air ran out. It was gone and in a second, he was pulling poison into his lungs. He coughed and chocked, taking shallow breaths to conserve any small particles of the life left.

There was none.

He looked up through his tear stained eyes and looked at the door sadly. He failed.

I'm sorry, Master. Goodbye. He used the rest of his strength to send the thought, somehow hoping that it would be one last comfort he could give to him. I love you…

…And his body went limp.

'Obi-Wan? Obi-Wan, please wake up! Padawan! Please, tell me you're alive. I can't lose you now!' The insistent voice broke through the haze. It was so warm, so familiar and so…so urgent. What for? He was dead. Why was there a voice asking him if he was alive. He was dead…

NO! He was alive. He could feel it. He could feel the air coursing through his lungs, the taste of the cool draughts, the smell of the dank caves….nothing could compare to it. The taste of Life.

He was alive, but where was he? Why couldn't he answer the frantic voice? Why couldn't he move?

Because you don't want to. Because you wish you had died. Because you knew you died a failure and if you lived, you would live the life of a failure. You did die in there, Kenobi. You died and now have the chance to be reborn into this world with a lesson…and a life long guilt.

But not now, oh please not now. He begged. Just…just let me answer…

Slowly, very slowly, he came to. His lungs pulling in the great drafts of air in bunches, filling them up with life.

'Padawan?' The voice was a whisper but held the emotion of a thousand tears of relief.

'M-m...' He couldn't speak. His whole mouth and throat felt like it was covered in dust, like an age-old manuscript; torn and ripped.

'Obi-Wan! I-I thought I lost you.' He felt himself being pulled up into the warmth of a solid body. His fingers tenderly touched the cloth to see—feel if it was real. It was. All of it. He wasn't dead. He had lived. The ambition had lived!

He coughed but it was not the painful, gut wrenching cough he had felt only minutes earlier. It was a cough that cleared all.

'Master? Oh, Master!' He clung to the robe as if his very life was embedded within the folds. He wanted to cry, but no tears came. He felt so happy. So happy…

'Oh, my padawan. I thought I had lost you. We looked everywhere for you and it was only twenty minutes ago that we found out you were locked down here. The war's over. The Republic is moving in to help the people. All because of you, Obi-Wan. You and your friends saved countless others.'

'W-we…what? His mind swirled with the thoughts. This was too much for him to understand. He wasn't dead, the war was over, the planet will join the Republic…and because of him? What did he do?

'Yes, Obi-Wan, you. The sacrifice the slaves and you made helped initiate a new resolve among the people, and the fire was not easily put out. The communists are gone, taken to prison. Thuras is free, because of you.'

Obi-Wan nodded but tears began to fall from his eyes.

'I almost lost you…' The older man murmured against his apprentice's hair. He could still feel the edges of the despair he had felt moments ago when he opened the door. That last message Obi-Wan had sent to him, had almost brought him to his knees. The despair and loss was evident in the tone. The pain, the suffering but most of all, the guilt. He had called out many times to the boy, through the Force and by voice but no avail, the boy had been lost to him. It was too close.

'I failed, Master. I'm s—so sorry.' The young boy rasped hoarsely. Qui-Gon immediately hushed him.

'No, Padawan!' He said sharply and the boy winced. 'No,' he softened. 'Do not blame yourself. There was nothing you could do.'

The young Jedi shook his head.

'If—'

'The 'ifs' will lead you nowhere, padawan. What happened happened. Sometimes we must learn that no matter how hard we stop it, death will come eventually and we cannot hate it. There is a peace embedded behind all of the fear of it and a destiny. We must all die. It is the way of the Force. It is the way of life.'

Obi-Wan shook his head. 'It doesn't seem fair. Those children…Master, they had a whole life ahead of them. A whole world to see! They will never see another sun rise, another moon set, another season pass. They will never have children of their own. Never—'

'Hush, Obi-Wan. Hush.' He embraced the youth tightly. 'I will not say do not grieve, for now is the time.' He paused as he felt the body relax in his arms, tense with grief. 'I am proud of you, Obi-Wan. So proud.' He wiped one of the tears away from the face tenderly. 'Breathe…'

Obi-Wan breathed deeply and let his sobs come forth. They ripped through his body and tore it to shreds and all the while, his master held him until; at last, the shreds had been renewed and built into something stronger. Stronger than any grief, any guilt could destroy.

End

A/N: I did my best with the subject. I'm not good at death and dying but I thought I would try this. I tried to convey his feelings to the best of my abilities. If there are any errors in anything, please tell me and please, no flames. I don't think my conscious could take it. :)