Chapter 36: The Reunion
The gentle tug in Anakin's head lured him away from unconsciousness. He stirred, muscles stretching as his mind pulled away from sleepiness to a blurred smears of grey. He blinked, eyes adjusting to the dizziness. A chill ran over him and Anakin nestled into the blanket.
A voice came overhead. "Anakin."
Anakin moaned. "Five more minutes, Obi-Wan."
A quiet chuckle sounded above him. "A sleepyhead wherever you are."
Anakin curled his mouth downward, ready with a riposte of his own when it clicked. He snapped his eyes wide open, the blurriness sharpened to a clear picture. He flipped on his back, staring straight up at the warm face of Obi-Wan Kenobi. In that second, Anakin questioned whether he was dreaming or if it was real. Then Obi-Wan smiled.
"It's not a dream, little one."
Anakin flung the blankets off and launched himself at Obi-Wan. He roped his little arms around him, burying his head in the nook of Obi-Wan's neck. Tears streamed down his face and with it, the fears that contorted him these past few days. Obi-Wan was here. Everything would be good again.
Obi-Wan patted his back. "It's good to see you too."
"I didn't think I would ever see you again."
Once he voiced that fear, he expelled it. No longer was he a bundle of neurosis, expecting the worst at every turn. Obi-Wan was sitting beside him, holding him like he did when nightmares attacked. Anakin was safe and he rested with that knowledge.
Obi-Wan, in turn, only ruffled the back of his head. "What did I always tell you?" he teased. "We will always see each other again... though I wish it was under better circumstances."
And that was when Anakin realized the situation. Cold seeped back into his skin, dousing down from head to toe in icy terror. Eyes scanned the room, noticing the subtle difference in details from his stay in the Temple. It was far more modern and upscale. A place of wealth and power. Dark power.
Anakin clung to Obi-Wan, his grip restricting Obi-Wan's esophagus. "It's all right," Obi-Wan wheezed out. "You're okay."
Anakin didn't think so. After the past month, he witnessed far too many cruelties brought on by the Sith to know "safe" was not an accurate description. "We gotta get out of here! We have to leave before... before..."
After taking another look around the room, he realized that there was no panel on the closed door. Even the windows had no way of opening. They were trapped in the room. "How are we going to get out? Are they going to-"
Obi-Wan shushed Anakin as he broke their embrace, much to Anakin's dislike. He snatched a fistful of Obi-Wan's tunic to keep him in reach. "Calm down," Obi-Wan said. "There's nothing to be afraid at the moment."
"Nothing to be afraid?" Anakin rebuked, his face crinkled in disagreement. "Obi-Wan! They're Sith Lords! Murderers! They destroyed Mandalore! Satine—"
"Satine is safe," Obi-Wan assured him.
Anakin wrinkled his brow in a deep furrow. "What? How would you know?"
"Because she was here. With me. Until about," Obi-Wan glanced around for a chronometer, "seven hours ago when I helped her escape."
"She escaped?"
Obi-Wan drooped his head to the side, brushing his fingers through his noticeably shorter hairstyle. In fact, after Anakin reexamined, Obi-Wan looked a lot different than he last saw him. Besides the haircut, Obi-Wan's skin lost its rough exterior. The dirt stains and calluses vanished, replaced with a glow and smooth skin. The clothes he wore were delicate materials. Fine cloth that Anakin never imagined Obi-Wan to wear. The colors were plain. Nothing extravagant like he's seen others wear clothes, but it was far from the rags Obi-Wan usually adorned.
Anakin heard a low sigh coming from Obi-Wan. "Well, she escaped from the palace. As from the planet? I'm not sure," Obi-Wan confessed, his eyes drawn to the floor. "I did what I could. But, I have great faith that she will succeed."
"Are the Siths going to kill her?" Like they killed my mom? Anakin thought.
Obi-Wan raised a shoulder before dropping his hands to his knees. "I'm not sure. Qui-Gon said he wouldn't, but… Siths are deceitful creatures," he said, pensive. "I can only hope."
"Are they going to kill you?"
Obi-Wan fully turned to look at Anakin. "What?"
"Are they going to kill you?" Anakin repeated the question, but this time, his voice was shaking a little.
It took Obi-Wan only a few seconds to comprehend the fear that twisted Anakin's gut enough to make him cry. "No… no, I'm not going anywhere," Obi-Wan said as he took Anakin back in his arms to calm the restless heart. "You don't have to worry about me, Anakin."
Anakin sniffled as he tried very hard not to cry. "Someone has to."
It was true. Of all the years Anakin has ever recalled, no one ever looked after Obi-Wan. Anakin spent his life knowing that he had Obi-Wan to fall back to, someone to be there when he messed up and help him. Catch him when he fell type of thing. Obi-Wan never had someone like that. He had no one to lean upon nor someone to call for help. It was just him. Sure, Anakin did his best to not be so difficult or he tried his hardest to do things right the first time, so that he could help Obi-Wan. But, it wasn't the same as Obi-Wan helping Anakin.
Someone needed to care for him. And Anakin was the only person who was willing to do so.
Obi-Wan patted his back upon hearing Anakin's remark. "Yes, well, it should not be you. You're still a boy. You don't need any more burdens than what you have now.
"To ease your anxiety, I don't believe they want me dead," Obi-Wan added with a tinge of hopefulness. "So—release your fears into the Force and let's not talk more about death. No one is going to die."
At first, Anakin rightfully believed so. Satine was alive albeit on the run. Obi-Wan was alive and sitting beside him. He could banish all those fears away! He no longer had to be haunted by his memories of Mandalore in smoke. Or the Duchess's parting words. Of the Temple's cold demeanor. Or Bant's…
Bant.
A fresh wave of tears spilled onto Obi-Wan. "I'm sorry," Anakin sobbed, burying his face into Obi-Wan's tunics. "I'm so sorry."
Obi-Wan quietly shushed Anakin, a hand rubbing the back of his head to settle him. "It's not your fault. You didn't do anything wrong."
"I did! I did! I got Bant killed!"
Obi-Wan's hand froze. "What?"
The Force tightened, coalescing into a rock which plummeted straight to the bottom of a vast sea. A gigantic wave crashing into the two of them, spiraling them into a monstrous abyss. Trembling, Anakin reeled back, his glossy eyes meeting Obi-Wan's shocked mien. Color drained from his red cheeks, his mouth agape as if unable to digest what he heard.
Then, with difficulty, Obi-Wan followed up. "What happened?"
Anakin wasn't quite sure he remembered all the details. He remembered walking back with Bant through the gardens when they ran into an impostor. Anakin tried to warn Bant, but the imposter shot her directly in the chest. Bant dropped without a single sound. And she rested there with starlight in her eyes.
The rest was blur. Anakin recalled bringing out the lightsaber and slicing the blaster in half. He shot through the garden as the impostor gave chase, firing a new blaster that he hid on the other side of his belt. But again, the memory was a mess. Everything happened to fast for Anakin to compute properly. His last recollection was using Obi-Wan's lightsaber to block a bolt aimed at him.
He relayed this all to Obi-Wan, who listened in quiet somber. He nodded encouragingly every time Anakin hesitated, needing to know the full story. By the end, Obi-Wan sat hunched on the bed, his hands wiping his face to hide his distress. He didn't need to though. The deep wound carved into them both. Obi-Wan took a deep breath, a shudder escaping along with the horrid of emotions that came with the story.
"I'm sorry you had to go through that," Obi-Wan started, averting his gaze to the floor. "I... I didn't want any of that to happen. I—Force! I wish it never happened." He dropped his head into his hands, fingers twisting around the short tendrils of his hair.
Anakin wished the same thing. "I'm sorry."
"It's not your fault."
"But—"
"It's not your fault," Obi-Wan repeated again, emphasizing every single word. "None of it is."
Anakin slumped. A chill crept up his spine and he shivered. It was like sinking into a pit of utter darkness. Where nightmares dwelled. To be his companion forever. He shuddered, shoulders twitched in response to the cold that drenched him. There was no escape. It was his fate to be the constant companion of fear and loss.
An arm slithered out, pulling him out of the sinkhole. The ice melted off and Anakin found himself pressed close to Obi-Wan. He lifted his eyes up to Obi-Wan, spying the marks of pain etched onto his face. Most wouldn't see it. On the surface, Obi-Wan looked collected and calm. Sad, but accepted. Anakin knew the difference. Grief shadowed the normally lake-blue eyes into a grey fog. The Force coiled, spiky that Anakin ached from its touch.
Anakin dropped his head, staring at his wrung hands. "I'm sorry."
"I'm sorry too," Obi-Wan responded just above a whisper.
They sat. Isolated. Lost. Searching for something too far out of reach. Obi-Wan went quiet. Not only vocally, but also the Force. A stillness that haunted Anakin for he had never seen Obi-Wan deflated of hope. Anakin wrangled his hands together, thinking hard about what he could do or say to bring back that easy, relax smile to Obi-Wan's face. Nothing came to mind and Anakin was left feeling inadequate.
The silence lulled on for a while until a murmur broke through the reflective meditation. "We'll get through this, Anakin. I promise," Obi-Wan said so quietly that Anakin had to closely listen to hear every word. "We won't let those bastards take everything."
Anakin, mouth set in a straight, determined line, agreed. "We'll fight."
Obi-Wan gave Anakin an affection half-embraced, but didn't say another word. He looked straight out the window, enamored with whatever thoughts plagued him. They didn't break apart. They stayed like that. Not saying a word. Wrapped together in their small huddle, leaning heavily upon each other for support and shelter. They braced together, the fate ahead a dark promise and no guarantee of comfort.
All they had were each other.
And that was good enough for them.
Satine grimaced at the speeder. Only the hands of cruel fate would hand her a speeder that ran out of fuel, stranding her in the middle of what appeared to be a jungle. Thick trees canopied the sky. The bustle of buzzes and rustles alerted creatures roaming the thick bushes. The air was thick and full that it was a struggle to give a good breath in. It was nothing like Mandalore.
As she weighed her options on what to do next, it seemed the only plausible choice was for her to carry on. To hightail it into the woods to escape any personnel who hunted her. Satine wasn't naïve to think the Sith wouldn't send out the troops to collect her. Give them an hour and she would hear the roars of other speederbikes making their approach.
With a regretful sigh, Satine abandoned her speederbike and took off into the woods. She obviously needed a new plan. She blamed Obi-Wan for this madness! It was his plan that got her sprinting through the dark woods in an oversized military uniform. He should be with her. This was his plan, after all. He should be here, holding her hand and leading them through the thicket of the jungle. Instead, he had to be his normal, self-sacrificing buffoon!
Satine came up to a cliff, letting out a soft shriek as she clung to a tree limb to stop her from timbering over the edge. Taking a deep breath, she recomposed herself. She was Mandalorian. The Duchess of Mandalore. She could survive a night in the jungle. She's survived through a lot worse and came out alive.
She followed the cliff's edge, hoping that it may give her a view of a town or city. Anything with lights would do. As she maneuvered over uprooted roots of the towering trees, she kept an eye out for civilization and an ear out for sounds of engines.
She descended down the cliff, the pants chaffing her thigh as she attempted to walk in a manner that would lessen the burn. It didn't help. She stumbled. Her hand snatched out, hoping to grab anything to stop her tumble. Fingers brushed the heads of bushes, but it slipped and she fell forward, somersaulting down the hill. Sticks, rocks and unknown objects poke, prodded and stabbed her as she tumbled down the hill.
The hill seemed never-ending until she flopped hard on dirt ground. Groaning and aching all over, she stiffly raised her neck. Her eyes distorted, seeing double. It took a couple of seconds for it all to come together. Yet, she thought she was still seeing the stars when the light in the distance did not fade. The speck of gold between the trees continued to glow.
Hope flared in her chest. Heart quickening, she scampered to her feet, ignoring the inflammation in her ankle. She hobbled through the thicket, listening carefully for any sounds of voices or engines. But all was quiet. She stealthily approached the edge of the tree line, hiding behind a massive foliage. She pushed back the stems of the bush to peer out.
It was a small establishment. A tiny cottage with a storage barn in the back. The porch light was lit. The beacon that brought her to the premise. She surveyed the layout, tip-toeing to the side of the cottage. She heard a harsh voice coming from the cottage as she slinked by. She came to the window and, carefully, peaked through the window.
A man of a certain age stood with his back to her, talking to a holo-image of a surly character. Heated words were exchange, but Satine only made out a few words from the argument.
"I do most… you are being… the work we… we're on lockdown… yeah my ship can…"
Ship? Satine dropped down, biting down her lower lip in though. She looked back to the barn. It looked large enough to house a ship. Satine crawled away, careful to not make a sound as she slipped away to the barn. Walking across the ground in silent steps, she entered the dark barn through the sliding door. She saw nothing at first. Her hand skimmed the walls searching for a switch. It took her a moment before locating the switch. She turned it on and the barn lit up, revealing a small cargo ship.
And crates upon crates of spice. All types of spice. Blue spice. Red spice. Yellow spice. Grey spice. Almost every brand of spice was found in the crates that littered around the ship.
Satine gaped at the amount of illegal substance. Her mind wired, connecting the pieces together. The owner was a smuggler! That meant…
Pounding of footsteps coming from outside alerted Satine of approaching danger. She swore upon her mistake of turning on the light as she hurried from one spot to the next trying to find a good hiding place. It wouldn't be until the very last moment that she had to dive behind a crate that was half hidden by the shadows. The door to the barn burst opened and Satine ducked her head behind the crate.
Her heart hammered. Lungs expanding in great need of air, but she kept her mouth closed to conceal her placement. Light footsteps roamed the barn, scuffling of dirt being kicked about as the smuggler searched the confines.
"Who here?" came the gnarling voice. "Show ye self! Come on! Show it!"
Satine curled her knees to her chest. She balled herself up as the man drew closer to her hideaway. She could hear the man's hack his way towards her. Only a few minutes remained before the smuggler spotted her and she did not expect the confrontation to be welcoming.
She stared down at her blaster. It was her only option to spare her from the smuggler's rage. She took the blaster out and clasped it in her sweaty palms. As she crouched in wait, all she could think about was how much she hated herself at the very moment. She was going to take a life. Against everything she ever stood for.
This was Obi-Wan's fault! If he was here, he could easily use his power to trick the man into going away or… or something! Anything rather than taking a life. Instead, he forced her to leave on her own with only a blaster as her protector.
It should have been him! Obi-Wan should be here. With her. Promising he could talk their way out of this situation. He should be here! Why was he not here? He had to play the hero. He needed to play hero for her and now she was alone and scared and hating herself.
Screeches of crates moving aside promised a reveal soon. Taking a deep breath, Satine repeatedly encouraged herself to do what was needed for survival. She clasp the blaster in her hands. They shook, but there was nothing she could do about that. The smuggler's stretched shadow got shorter and fatter. Coming closer and closer, she muttered a Mandalorian prayer, asking forgiveness and spiting herself for doing something regrettable.
She wished she never had to fire the blaster.
Her crate was shoved aside and the smuggler loomed over her. An ugly scar carved up on the side of his face, grey eyes aflame with blue fire as he glared down at her. His mouth twisted into a snarl. "What ye doin'?"
Satine jumped to her feet and aimed the blaster at him. "I'll shoot!"
The smuggler flitted from the blaster back to Satine. He laughed. "Ye are na goin' to shoot. Give it here? Give it girl?"
Satine's knees trembled as the smuggler came upon her. "I said I'll shoot."
"Then shoot," challenged the smuggler with a cold, cruel laugh.
Satine put her finger on the trigger, but she never pulled. In the face of danger, she could not convince herself to take the man's life. She couldn't. And the smuggler knew it. He charged at her, wrenching the blaster from her.
When his grubby hands grabbed the blaster, Satine reacted entirely different than what she thought. She gripped the blaster tight, refusing to budge. The smuggler snarled at her reluctance to give up the weapon.
"Ye bitch!" the smuggler snarled. He jerked the blaster and shoved his elbow into Satine's face to throw her off. "Ye gonna—"
The sound of a bolt zapping through the scuffle stopped everything. Satine's breath hitched in her throat. Her eyes fluttered down. There was no smoking hole in her stomach. She didn't expect one to be. She did, however, expect one in the smuggler's stomach. Yet, to her genuine surprise there wasn't a single singe in the man's shirt.
She flipped her terrified gaze back up to the smuggler's face. Shock froze his face. Eyes wide and uncomprehending. His fingers slipped off the blaster and he tipped back, rocking on his feet. His mouth hung open. All of his previous words left ghosted on his lips. He finally tipped too far back and he timbered down, crashing into the crates of spice that puffed up in the air in clouds of red, blue and grey.
The smuggler was out cold.
Satine stood by herself for a long moment. The blaster remained clutch in her hand. Her arms were not shaking. They were steady. Even her knees no longer wobbled. She looked from the smuggler to the blaster, turning the cursed weapon over in her hand.
She read the fine print on the side and a sigh of great relief escaped her lips. "Stun?" she uttered as her heart slowed to a decrescendo. "It's set for stun."
With that knowledge, her hands shook again, the adrenaline and fear washing off her as she wiped her sweaty palms against her baggy uniform. She put the weapon back in its sheath, maneuvering around the tossed crates and doing her best to not inhale the surrounding spice. She paused beside the unconscious smuggler.
"I'm so sorry," Satine murmured. "I really am."
Knowing he would not respond, she turned away and ran to the ship. She boarded and made her way to the cockpit. As a Mandalorian royal, she never had to pilot. Others did it for her. But she knew how to pilot. Her father instructed her when she was young. She programed the ship, the control panel coming to life in an array of different colors. The engine moaned, awakening from its long nap.
Satine searched the control board. A smuggler prided on their ship. If their ship wasn't good, then they wouldn't have any business. And by the amount of spice the man contained, Satine bet credits that his ship was remarkable enough. Meaning the ship must be either fast or have a concealment factor to it.
She studied the control panel, moving down the rows of switches and buttons until she came across the exact one she needed. A smile spread across her face. The ship had a concealment technique needed to hide in the night of cover.
She hit the controls, bringing the ship to a thunderous rumble. Satine closed the ramp, locking the doors and turning off the anti-gravs. She took the steering wheel as the ship inched forward to the wide opening. Careful to not his the barn and knock it into splinters, Satine piloted it into the open.
Satine brought the ship above the trees, hoovering of the panoply of green. Satine saw the vast midnight sky and knew it was now or never. She reached over and flipped the switch. The ship vibrated and Satine noticed the change in front of her. The viewport tinted and Satine knew then that the concealment worked.
Deep breath, she told herself as she steer the invisible ship to the skies. More stars twinkled in welcome, dazzling her with promise of freedom. She looked through the viewport. Glancing backwards, she spotted the tall spires of Serenno's palace.
Obi-Wan. He was still there. Trapped with madmen!
Her hands turned the wheel, redirecting the nose of the ship in the direction of the palace when Obi-Wan's voice echoed in her ears. His pleas for her to run to safety. To do one's duty. She was a Duchess. And he was a Jedi. Their paths were always going to diverge. Even now. Her heart yearned to save him, but her mind knew better. She could not save him by crashing the ship into the palace. It only ended in destruction and death. Nothing good would happen.
She turned away from the palace. Eyes watering as she redirected to the stars, calming her erratic heart with promises that she would see him again. It was all the hope she could hold onto as she concentrated on escaping out of Serenno, keeping her oath to Obi-Wan that she would escape.
Deep breaths, Satine reminded herself again. It's only for a moment. That's all.