Supernova

Disclaimer: I don't own Star Wars. All recognisable characters, content, or locations belong to their respective owners. No copyright infringement intended.

Summary: When all hope is lost, the Force intervenes. The last two surviving Jedi, Masters Obi-Wan Kenobi and Garen Muln, are inexplicably plunged back in time. In the Jedi Temple of their youth, haunted by familiar faces, they have one more chance to get things right. It is easier said than done. fem!Obi-Wan/Garen. OOC. AU.

Rating: T, for now, for language, mild adult themes, references to character death, and violence.

Author: tlyxor1.

Chapter One

When Obi-Wan Kenobi wakes, it's with all the experience of war, of exile, of over a decade spent hunted to the farthest reaches of the known galaxy. It's a sudden thing, her enhanced senses outstretched to take stock of her surroundings, her body tense, mind clear, and she is perturbed to find herself not only alive, but alone as well. The last thing she remembers is the comforting heat of Garen at her back, his force presence so deeply intwined with hers as to be indistinguishable, a bright beacon of light in the seething miasma that is Coruscant under the reign of the Sith.

Without opening her eyes, she probes for Garen's presence at the other end of their bond, unabashedly desperate to feel him there. He's been a part of her life for as long as she can remember - best friends, lovers, spouses - and she's not sure she can live without him after they've lost everything else. It's not the Jedi way, to be so attached, but Obi-Wan stopped caring about that around the same time Luke Skywalker died of a childhood fever, and there's no one left to take offence besides.

Yoda's gone and joined the rest of their loved ones in the Force, and with him, any lingering remnants of the Jedi Order and all it's ideology. She doesn't begrudge his passing - he was very old, and had earned his rest - but after two decades in which he'd become a very beloved friend and mentor, she misses him dearly.

That said, Garen is all Obi-Wan has left in this life, and selfishly, she has no desire to be left alone at the end of all things.

'I'm here,' Garen projects through their bond, 'Do you know where you are?'

With an exhale of relief, Obi-Wan opens her eyes, sleep-crusted and bleary, and it is only a matter of moments before she recognises the Halls of Healing within the Jedi Temple.

Evidently, Darth Vadar has only grown more creative with his torture methods, though curiously, she is neither disarmed, nor bound. Moreover, she can't feel her former Padawan nearby,and despite her past efforts to curb the habit, he's always been one to gloat over his victories.

'It looks like the Halls of Healing,' she projects along their link, 'One of the private rooms. Where are you?'

"Wait there,' he says, 'I'll come to you. Don't worry - we're safe."

Perplexed and terrified, because she's fairly certain she hasn't been safe since before the Naboo Crisis over 30 years earlier, and also uncertain of how he can possibly believe that when they're on Coruscant, she summons her lightsaber to her hand, and promptly drops it.

It is not her lightsaber. Or rather, it hasn't been hers for a very long time.

'What's going on?' She asks. Her sensory probe has hit shielding along the edge of the room, and despite her efforts, they don't crumble under her assault. It's bizarre, because they shouldn't be so solid after 20 years of degradation, and neither are they plagued by the oily residue of darkness that seems to taint everything else on the planet. It feels as though the Halls of Healing haven't been abandoned and vandalised at all, and it baffles her.

'It's unbelievable,' Garen answers, 'But take a look at yourself.'

She acquiesces, and her panic rises. Gone are most of the scars that have littered her arms for years, the aches and pains she's grown accustomed to as she's grown older, the familiar wear and tear of a woman long passed her prime.

'All right,' Garen says, 'I'm outside your room. Brace yourself.'

Before she can ask him why she needs to, the door to her room slides open. Garen steps through, and Obi-Wan stares. He is 16 years old, with a full head of black hair, his face unmarred by the time and grief and pain they share.

"It's unbelievable," he repeats, and his voice sounds as young as he looks, "We're somehow back in our 16 year old bodies. I can't explain it, but it's all real."

He approaches her then, his stride unhampered by the limp that has burdened him for 12 years. At her bedside, he raises the top of her bed until she's sat up against her pillows, and then entwines their fingers. He kisses each of her knuckles, as he always does, and then he waits.

"I don't understand," she admits. It is unfathomable, and exceedingly difficult to believe.

"We're back in time," he reiterates, "The Force gave us another chance."

She wonders if she's dreaming, or if she's lost her mind, or if it's another cruelty thought up by Sidious, Vadar, and their cadre of Sith Acolytes. all she knows about Temporal Physics - and, admittedly, it isn't much - indicates that such a phenomenon should be impossible.

And yet, there she is, with her padawan braid and her very first lightsaber, and with Garen by her side, and she wants to believe, more than anything she's ever wanted in her life.

'Trust in the Force," Garen insists, and he is almost pleading, 'It will never steer you wrong.'

She acquiesces, closes her eyes and opens herself up to her faithful, ageless companion. As she does so, she is cradled in its embrace, welcomed warmly, and encouraged to believe: Garen has not been duped,, they have somehow - miraculously - travelled backwards in time, and she is home.

The revelation leaves her overwhelmed, and Obi-Wan, despite her vaunted Jedi composure, despite her years of training, despite her years of experience, bursts into emotional, overwrought tears.