Chapter 32
Orphan

Obi-Wan grimaced at the bitter taste of his caf and wished in vain for a cup of tea. It was still early yet (or very, very late depending on who you asked) and so the briefing room was empty. The screens and holo-projectors used to display strategies and troop movements were dark and inactive, only a small lamp illuminated the auditorium-like room.

He'd specifically chosen this room to avoid running into other people. He wanted a little time to himself and this was the best way to get it. Now he could think all he wished without being interrupted.

Master Unill's death just over a week ago had signaled a rash of guerilla strikes. Mostly they were traps set along established patrol routes. The instant something interrupted a laser beam or touched a trip wire, a buried mine could go off or some concealed rocket launchers would fire, or both. That was what happened to Master Unill. His walker set off a trap and was reduced to slag.

Since then, three other walkers had run into similar traps and another Jedi, this time a Knight, was killed. Clone troops scouting on foot were also suffering. With every passing day, more Republic forces were hit. And opinion on what this meant was deeply divided.

Some felt this was the dying gasp of the Separatist presence on Jabiim. If they pressed just a little longer it would all be over and they could leave this rainy mud ball behind. But others were convinced that these increasing guerilla strikes meant that a fresh wave of Separatists reinforcements would arrive and try to remove the Republic from the system.

Obi-Wan couldn't decide which opinion he agreed with more. Thinking about it, internally debating it, just gave him a headache and got him nowhere rather quickly. So he set down his cup of caf and decided to think about something else. Vader was a good subject…

If one were to meet Vader only twice, once before Geonosis and once after, it would be unlikely that they could recognize him as the same person.

Before, the young man was always radiating some anxiety. Some days he would jump at shadows while others he'd just look at the shadows suspiciously. When he felt he could get away with it, he was excessively rude, let slip an explicative every third or fourth word, and acted callous and selfish. On his better days, he was a tolerable companion. But on the worst days (which had been far too often in his humble opinion) it was almost enough to drive Obi-Wan out of the Temple and into a bar.

Now, Vader was almost completely different. Yes, there were days when he reverted back towards his less-pleasant personality. But those days were fewer and farther between. The rest of the time, he was surprisingly pleasant to be around. If he was in a good mood, he was polite, sometimes talkative, even funny. If he was in a bad mood, he now was more likely to keep his mouth shut and perhaps sulk instead of spewing bitter, profanity-laden, whining rants like he used to.

And then there was his performance in battle. While he had always been a formidable warrior, before the war he had been hesitant. In sparring matches he rarely held back, but when real blaster bolts began to fly he left most of the work to Obi-Wan. Now some days it was all he could do to keep Vader from racing down the Separatist's throats. His hesitant, reluctant strikes had transformed into reckless, sometimes seemingly suicidal, charges.

From the 'very reluctant Padawan' to 'always on the move', Obi-Wan half-chuckled to himself. He reached for his caf cup…and frowned when he came up empty. Hey, where's–

"This caf is terrible," Vader snorted from somewhere over Obi-Wan's left shoulder.

The Jedi Master slowly turned around to find his 'Padawan' standing there, studying the liquid in the stolen cup with a skeptical expression. He was dressed for bed, wearing his loose black sleep pants, a baggy white tank top he'd most likely won off a clone trooper during a card game, his cloak, and his boots. Vader took a cautious sip out of Obi-Wan's cup and grimaced.

"Yeesh, after all your fancy tea how can you stand this stuff?" Vader asked.

"I don't know, must be one of those unexplainable mysteries of the galaxy." Obi-Wan replied dryly. "What are you doing up here, awake, and in your sleep-clothes?"

"What are you doing up here, awake, and not in you sleep-clothes?" Vader countered, idly swishing the last of the caf around in the cup.

"You first," Obi-Wan fired back, shifting his chair around to more comfortably face his young companion.

"Oh, I had trouble sleeping and discovered you weren't sleeping either, so I decided to come find you." Vader shrugged, looking a little uncomfortable, tendrils of tension leaking past his shielding. "Your turn."

"It's just been so busy lately that I needed some time to sit and think for a while and this is the only time I could find to do that." Obi-Wan replied.

"Overachiever." Vader muttered, rolling his eyes. "Come on now Master, it's time for bed."

"Overachiever?" Obi-Wan repeated, ignoring the call to bed.

"Yes, you stay awake all day and do a great deal of thinking. And now you stay up late when you could be sleeping to think some more! You are an overachiever." Vader explained patiently, taking another sip of Obi-Wan's caf.

"I see," Obi-Wan replied gravely. "Now can I have my caf back?"

"No," Vader smirked after a long, slow sip.

"Why not?" Obi-Wan frowned.

"If you finish this, you won't sleep at all." Vader tossed back the last of the caf. "Stimulants and sleep don't mix well. Now off to bed with you!"

Obi-Wan leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. "Remind me, who is the Master and who is the Padawan here?"

"You're the Master," Vader answered, smirking, "and I'm not the Padawan."

"Cute, very cute," Obi-Wan replied flatly. "Almost funny even."

"Really? I've been working on that one." Vader grinned.

"I can tell," Obi-Wan sighed, rubbing his forehead wearily.

"Heh, well let's get back on subject here," Vader snorted. "Bedtime Master."

"You go on ahead, I'll catch up in a few minutes." Obi-Wan replied, waving the younger man off.

"Ah, ah, ah!" Vader jokingly scolded, wagging a metallic skeletal finger in front of the Master's face. "If I leave, you'll just stay here until the sun comes up. So I'm not leaving until you leave."

Obi-Wan glared up at the tall Padawan who only smirked back in response. Tiring quickly of the stalemate, the Master decided to give in. "Fine, fine," he grumbled in annoyance, stiffly rising out of his seat.

"Hah! I win!" Vader chuckled more to himself than anyone. "I beat The Negotiator!"

"Enough with that," Obi-Wan muttered. "The Holo-Net reports and News-Faxes are bad enough by themselves. I don't need to be hearing that from you too."

"What? I find that to be a very apt nickname for you." Vader grinned lop-sidedly, taking Obi-Wan's wrist and gently towing him out of the room.

"I don't like it," Obi-Wan complained, tamely following along.

"They could've coined something way worse for you, you know." Vader pointed out.

"I know," Obi-Wan sighed tiredly. "Though I wish that every time a reporter pounces on me, you didn't find a good excuse to disappear."

"But they're so scary!" Vader replied, warping his voice to sound younger and more innocent, child-like. He tried to look innocent too, but at Obi-Wan's very skeptical expression, he cracked up.

"You just don't want to have to deal with them and you resent the fact that you can't punch them in the face when they annoy you." Obi-Wan retorted dryly.

"That's part of it," Vader agreed once he stopped chuckling. "But I'm also afraid of what sort of weird nickname they'd saddle me with if they ever managed to see me more than twice."

"Oh I'm sure they wouldn't conjure up anything too terrible for you." Obi-Wan replied, stifling a smirk. "Perhaps they'd call you…oh…The Hero With No Fear."

Vader paused mid-stride, then turned to stare at Obi-Wan with a partly disgusted, partly horrified expression. "One, that is a mouthful. Two, it is terrible. And three, it's entirely untrue."

"You could've fooled me with all those fearless charges of yours." Obi-Wan teased.

Vader scowled and started walking again, once more towing Obi-Wan by his wrist. "I'm not fearless," he mumbled, "and I'm not a hero."

Obi-Wan sighed quietly, but made no comment. He knew Vader wasn't fearless. But he felt he could argue the hero point if he'd felt like it.

When Master Unill had died, his Padawan had been devastated. The child had really been too young to be out here, even though there had been very little Separatist activity in the Jabiim system. If it was necessary for Master Unill to become involved in the war, his Padawan should've been left behind at the Temple. But he hadn't and he'd suffered for it.

Fortunately, while he hadn't had any of his friends with him to support him, he hadn't been alone when it happened. He'd been doing homework and Vader – of all people! – had been helping him with it. When the shock of his Master's death had hit him, Vader – again, of all people! – had become his support.

The Padawan, Zett Jukassa, practically fused himself to Vader for the four days that he remained on Jabiim before he'd been sent back to the Temple on the next out-going transport. The boy was always following him around and clinging to his sleeve or the edge of his cloak. The only time he wasn't hanging around Vader was when he was asleep. Vader had actually been temporarily pulled off field duty because Zett was terrified of losing his only friend out here like he'd lost his Master.

Vader had handled this all surprisingly well. He was amazingly patient with the boy, never once losing his temper. And while it was clear that sometimes Zett's clingy-ness had annoyed him, he almost appeared sad to see the boy sent away.

No matter what Vader argued he was, at the very least, a hero to that Padawan. He'd given the boy a shoulder to cry on. He'd helped him stay sane, feel safe. There weren't many senior-level Padawans that would put up with a weepy junior-level Padawan the way that Vader had, and Obi-Wan was certain that Zett knew that.

A gust of chilly wind jolted him free of his musings as Vader led him outside into the chilly late night (or very early morning) air. They crossed a wide muddy expanse between the command center and the barracks as quickly as possible, carefully weaving over the least soggy ground to minimize the amount of mud caked on their boots. But despite their efforts, they still spent over five minutes scraping mud off when they made it back indoors.

"I can't imagine why Jabiim doesn't get many tourists." Vader snorted as he attacked the last layer of mud on his left boot. "I can hear the ads now, 'Come to Jabiim! See the rain! See the mud! It's a meteorologist's dream!'"

Obi-Wan couldn't help but laugh at that as he toweled the last of the mud off his own boots. "Yes, I can't imagine why either."

Now mud-free, they ventured deeper into the barracks towards their assigned quarters. The barracks, noisy and rowdy during the day, were eerily quiet at night. What made things even more eerie was the sound of their boots echoing down the halls, breaking the almost unnatural silence. If Obi-Wan hadn't suddenly felt so tired, it might've bothered him.

Thankfully bed wasn't very far away. Once the door had shut behind them, he wasted no time in stripping down for bed. First the cloak, then the boots, then the belts, then the outer tunic. And then he collapsed into the lower bunk.

"Goodnight Master," Vader laughed, "I'll set your alarm for you."

Obi-Wan failed to respond. Despite his half a glass of caf, he was asleep already.

Obi-Wan fought back yet another yawn as he slumped in his chair aboard the Republic walker he was currently commanding. He was regretting his desire for thinking time earlier (or would that be late yesterday?). The night (or early morning?) hadn't lasted long enough.

I'm getting to old to run on three hours of sleep, he very reluctantly admitted to himself. Too old…at thirty-six… Obi-Wan sighed and then fought back another yawn. Blast…

"You look like you could use some caf General Kenobi." One of the clones, this unit's commander, teased quietly.

"Yes, I think I do Alpha." Obi-Wan sighed ruefully.

It was interesting. In the beginning of the war, the clones went by their serial numbers. They had no individual names or nicknames. And they were incredibly disciplined, never expressing any individuality while on duty.

But over time, they began loosening up. Some soldiers began gossiping or cracking jokes while waiting in the trenches or out on patrol. A few even had the guts to try and chat with their Jedi superiors. And they began calling each other names instead of numbers. Like Alpha.

"Fifteen minutes and then we turn back." Alpha observed, intently studying some sensor display through the ridiculously restricting helmet that all clones had to wear.

Thank the Force for small favors. I think I can stay awake just long enough to make it back. Obi-Wan muffled yet another yawn and rubbed wearily at his eyes. Stars, how did I even manage to get up this morning?

How had he made it awake this morning? He hadn't, Vader had to intervene. When he failed to be roused by the blaring alarm that Vader had so kindly set for him before he'd passed out, the young man dumped a glass of ice cold water over his head. That had done the trick.

At least it was just water this time, Obi-Wan reminded himself. The last time he'd had trouble getting up on time while they'd been on Ruusan, Vader had thought it would be fun to sit on his back and slowly crush him to wake him up. Obi-Wan swore he'd been ten seconds away from needing to visit a chiropractor.

Sometimes I really worry about that boy. He–

A warning blared at him through the Force and he snapped up straight in an instant. Obi-Wan opened his mouth to order the walker to come to a full stop–

There was a deafening roar. A blinding flash of light. A searing rush of heat. The floor trembled and bucked beneath him. Some of the clones yelled or screamed. The walker lurched sideways, twisting, bucking.

Obi-Wan tumbled out of his seat, smacked the side of his head against a console–

Vader had been eating breakfast. Since Obi-Wan hadn't gotten up on his own (big surprise there), he'd had to wake up earlier than he'd wanted to, to get Obi-Wan up. And since Obi-Wan was out on early morning patrol, he was eating breakfast at the far end of the mostly empty 'Jedi table' in the mess hall alone. There were other Jedi there, they just sat at the other end of the table.

So yes, he had been eating breakfast. Plain oatmeal with a glass of some kind of juice and a side of slightly overdone toast. And he had been bored. Had been.

Then an icy chill of foreboding shot up his spine. He sat up very straight, now very alert. And then he'd felt inexplicably restless, like there was somewhere he really, really, really, needed to be right now!

And then there was silence. Not actual silence. The mess hall was still quite loud he supposed. He just ceased to hear it. All he was aware of was a perfect, profound silence. Both external and internal.

Some Jedi grasped his shoulder and gave it a few good shakes. Vader almost didn't react. But eventually, he did turn to face the person touching him. And when that Jedi (A Knight? A Master?) saw his face, that Jedi's expression shifted from confusion to horror. Another Jedi near the end of the table said something. And then it really became silent…

When he looked back upon things later, he would probably describe what he was feeling as a mixture of deep shock and utter loss. It was similar to what he vaguely remembered feeling when Dooku had hacked his arm off. Some part of him was suddenly gone.

The only other thing he remembered about that day was standing outside in the pouring rain, staring into a crater in the muddy ground littered with melted shards of metal. He never was able to remember how he got out there. He was never able to remember how long he stayed there. And he was never able to remember how he left…