Part 2 of a (now) three-part prompt fill because Obi-wan had a really long, really complicated, and really full life... enjoy!
It's raining. It's been raining for a week. Obi-wan is drenched, but currently sitting someplace dry and trying to become dry himself. His mood can accurately be described as sour and his countenance does nothing to hide it.
He is, in two words, over it.
They've wasted far too many days attempting to get through the shield or shut it down, and in the process they've almost exhausted their food supply. The men are beginning to find less-than-amusing ways to pass the time and his own extensive store of legendary patience is starting to unravel at a disturbing rate.
Just as he readies himself to stand and endure the unceasing downpour once more (he still isn't dry…), Anakin steps under the makeshift roof and drops a bundle on the slab of rock doubling as a table. Obi-wan gives it a sideways glance and his face twitches in irritation. It smells. "Anakin, what –"
His young friend sits himself down and gives him a small smile. "Hello, master."
Strike that. Anakin smells. Normally, he would attempt to remain civil and hide his reaction to the assault on his nostrils, but today he doesn't even bother. "Where have you been?"
"Reconnaissance." The one word answer is spoken around a smirk and beneath glittering eyes.
Obi-wan's sour mood begins to simmer across their bond and his own eyes darken a shade. Leave it to this man to finally push him over the edge… He catches sight of the mound of mud that Anakin has unwrapped and sees things wriggling. And squirming. And crawling.
Oh Force.
His gut clenches in protest. "What is that?"
"Lunch."
So Obi-wan is forced to sit and watch his comrade in arms slurp and crunch and inhale his very much still alive 'lunch' while the youth simultaneously explains that he's found a clever way into the base through some long-forgotten ancient sewer lines directly underneath it.
In the middle of his tale, Anakin dangles a fat worm in front of his face with an inquiring look.
Obi-wan gives a curt shake of the head in response. "I am not eating that."
Anakin shrugs and, like a kid playing with his food (because he is actually playing with his… food), twists the slimy creature around one finger and sucks it off in one go. Obi-wan involuntarily shudders and turns away. "Let's not waste time. I'm ready to be done with this place." With that said, he steels himself and steps into the soggy muck.
The younger Jedi watches him leave with a smile. His old master currently resembles a drenched womp rat, but his head is held high, his shoulders are squared, there is a distinct swagger to his step again, and there is no longer the pungent tang of prickly frustration humming across their bond.
Grabbing a few beetles for the road, Anakin hurries to follow.
***oo***
Point Rain is a mess.
Obi-wan almost dies.
Many of his men do.
When they enter the Healing Ward and check in at the front desk, Obi-wan is leaning against Anakin and the younger man has an arm around his back to keep him upright. The young healer manning the desk gives them one look and stands without a word to go fetch someone a bit older. Anakin feels sorry for her. She returns with a middle-aged Jedi neither of them have met before, but he gives them a kind smile that immediately inspires trust.
Both of them are slow to trust, though, and so neither smiles back.
"Let's get him to a room," the man murmurs, slipping his own arm around Obi-wan so that Anakin can release him. "What's wrong with him?"
"I'm fine, really. Just a few scrapes and bruises…"
"He might've cracked some ribs. He's got an ugly gash on his left leg and he's been talking nonsense every twenty minutes or so, so you should check his head out too." Anakin rattles this off as if the other man hadn't spoken.
The healer nods. "We'll run him through concussion protocols. Looks a bit dehydrated..."
"Yeah, he'll need fluids."
Obi-wan frowns, coherent enough to be put off by their blatant disregard for the fact that he's standing right here, thank you. Well, now he's sitting – lying—down, and it feels rather nice…
"Take care of him."
He begins to drift, eyes fluttering shut.
"We will."
***oo***
It's evening, right around the hour most species indulge in dinner. The training floors are mostly empty, which means this is the perfect time to get some practice in. Ahsoka would honestly prefer to be eating dinner with everyone else, but she knows that Master Kenobi likes it quiet (she suspects it has to do with 'practice' mostly taking place on battlefields).
So here she is. Sweating, panting for breath, lightsaber in one hand, shoto reversed in the other, and staring in baffled wonder at the older Jedi across from her. This is meant to be a lesson in Jar-kai, but so far she ruefully admits that it's been more of a demonstration of the sheer dominance that can be sustained when a master of Soresu decides to just let loose and have fun.
And that's what he's doing. Having fun. At her expense, no less (though she feels a smile coming on…). "Master," she bites out, gritting her teeth as she's forced to use both of her blades to fend off a wicked combination of counterattacking jabs and sweeping thrusts. "I thought you said you were only going to defend."
Those blasted grey-blue eyes begin to twinkle mischievously. "The best defense is a good offense, young one," he intones, breathing lightly.
She rolls her eyes, flipping backward to land out of reach of his saber. "I thought I was sparring with Master Kenobi, not Skyguy."
This draws a lightly accented laugh. "Well I did learn some things from him. Not many, but some."
Bantha poo is what that is, and she knows he knows it too. It's evident in the soft smile that's fallen over his face. "I've learned some stuff too," she retorts. Then she launches into her own offensive, a lethal barrage of blinding slices, flickering jabs, and adder-quick parries (if needed). The defensive maneuvers are Master Kenobi's contribution. Anakin had scoffed at the idea that she needed them, but she'd known he was appreciative that the older man had taken the time to teach her.
Right now, though? Ahsoka has no need for defense. Master Kenobi's loose attitude is contagious and she's going all in. It's a brash, reckless, Hero With no Fear style with an overdose of pure sass. It only takes a few seconds for her to realize that she actually has the master on his heels. No, she hasn't scored a hit, but she's come close. Maybe…
She adds a small Force-push into her next cut and smiles when he's taken completely off guard. His arm and blade are pushed across his body and he's forced to duck awkwardly under her thrusting shoto.
At least that had been her plan.
Unexpectedly, he's able to tear his blade away and knock her shoto to the side with a backhanded parry. "You're getting better – oof."
She'd been so shocked by his impossible parry that she'd reacted instinctively. Her Force-push hits his gut and sends him straight into the wall. Stunned, she can only stare. "I'm so sorry…" She trails off and then frowns.
He's laughing. Laughing. If the two of them had been strangers, she might have wondered if his head were screwed on straight. Instead, she just groans. "Why is it that every time I actually land a hit, you guys can only laugh?"
Master Kenobi stops laughing, but he's still grinning like an idiot. "Because you always apologize. Like you're surprised."
"Well…" she shrugs, pouting. "I am! I mean, it's you and it's him."
The older Jedi pushes off from the wall, sparing a glance at the small dent he's left behind. Then he trains his dancing, laughing eyes on her again. "Maybe you should stop denying the fact that you're getting better?"
He phrases it like a question, but it's definitely not. Ahsoka feels a warm chill snake down her back. "Really?"
He rolls his eyes. "Yes, Ahsoka." Then he smirks. "Now. Land a second hit and I'll take you to Dex's."
She grins in challenge. "You're on, master."
A little over an hour later, they're sharing a table and chomping on greasy sandwiches while Master Kenobi educates her on the pitfalls of hubris and the finer points of Ataru. It'd taken them twelve minutes to get a speeder, forty minutes to get to Dex's (traffic had been terrible), and about ten minutes to get their food.
Their second duel had been over in seconds, leaving her one blade short and rubbing her keester while his blasted eyes still laughed at her.
He'd taken her to dinner anyway.
***oo***
"Ventress."
"Kenobi."
Anakin is momentarily insulted that the witch doesn't acknowledge him too, but she's always had a thing for his former master. "Um, Hero With No Fear standing right here, thanks for noticing." He frowns at the disgusted look he receives in return. "Hey! Of the two of us, I'm the more dangerous one. He's said so himself."
"Anakin."
He blinks and glances at Obi-wan. "What?"
His old master still carries a straight face, but there is humor in his eyes. "Go take care of the two battalions of droids will you? I'll keep Ventress occupied."
"But master –"
This time, Obi-wan begins to look irritated. "I can handle myself."
"And Ventress?"
"Will be occupied. Now go."
Anakin shakes his head and runs towards the advancing droids. He has no doubts that his friend will keep Ventress distracted, but he knows the man holds no ill will towards her. Ventress is a Sith. She deserves to die.
How much suffering and carnage must she leave behind before Obi-wan figures that out?
***oo***
"I'll kill her," he vows. "I will kriffing kill her."
Beneath his gaze, trembling and drawing in short, raspy breaths, Obi-wan finds the energy to somehow glare at him. There is something distinctly broken in that glare. "Anakin."
"No." He looks away, glancing at the rest of the poor man's body. It's a miracle he and Alpha had survived. Well, physically. His friend's mental state is another story entirely. "No, master. She is going to die for this. I promise. I'm going to hunt her down and –"
"Anakin, just… stop. Please. It… hurts."
He looks at Obi-wan's face again in time to catch the furrowed brow and the tightly closed eyes. It doesn't take much guesswork to realize that his own childish tantrum had leaked across their bond. "Shoot! Master, I'm sorry. Here," he says, rising to his feet. "Let me go get a healer."
"No, that's not… necessary. Just…" There's a long pause in which Obi-wan opens his eyes to look at him again. Somehow, some way, there is an earnest hope there and it's directed at someone who doesn't deserve a single bit of it. "Forgive her, Anakin. Let it go. She's only… lost. Confused."
What?
He can't. There is no way. Anakin clenches his jaw and looks away again. "I'm getting a healer."
***oo***
Master Kenobi is back on the front lines, but he's not the same serene Jedi that he'd been before. Before Ventress took him away from the Order, attempted to tear him apart, and then allowed him to escape even in his tortured, battered state.
He's different.
More vulnerable and emotionally open than before. More… human. Anakin notices, Ahsoka notices, the men notice, almost everyone notices. Obi-wan isn't able to hide it. There are cracks in his shields now. Not in his mind, because Force knows his mind is shielded up and locked tight and not even Anakin can get close to touching it.
But his Sabaac face has slipped. There is anger present in the tightening of his mouth and the slight furrow of his brows. There is grief in widening eyes and clenched teeth. There is clear irritation whenever his expression flattens, and there is unexpected joy in bearded but not quite hidden dimples and a bark of laughter (and when does Obi-wan ever laugh like that?). Anakin appreciates it to a point. He sees what most of the others miss.
There is a broken, bleeding, heavy tiredness to everything Obi-wan does and says now. It pains the younger man to see it, and he repeatedly vows to grant Ventress the death that she deserves.
"Anakin."
They are in the middle of a firefight, battle droids everywhere, clones falling left and right, their lightsabers desperately trying to weave some sort of defense out of the mess. Anakin briefly reflects that Obi-wan's technique has gotten both tighter and smoother, even more efficient if possible. That's another thing too.
While the man has lost the calm outward presence they are all used to seeing, his Force signature seems to have done exactly the opposite. Obi-wan's typically passive Soresu has begun to take on a more aggressive, dangerous flair, but his signature has gotten brighter, warmer, and softer.
It doesn't make any sense.
"Anakin."
Then there's this. It happens often. In the middle of the chaos, Obi-wan shoots him looks and single-worded inquiries. "Yes?" he bites out. He doesn't look at the man because he doesn't need to. He knows what's coming.
"Are you okay?"
Now he looks. He always does. Obi-wan stares back at him, brows furrowed in concern even as his blade effortlessly deflects blaster fire away from them. After a second, one brow ticks upward ("Well?") and Anakin looks away again.
"I'm fine."
He never knows what to say. Should he spill his guts to the man in the middle of a warzone? Or should he instead turn the question back around? Because Obi-wan, by all rights, should be the one that's very much not okay, and yet the man somehow continues to live and fight and just deal with the galaxy's poodoo day in and day out.
"You're sure?"
Anaking flicks his eyes sideways, catches a brief glimpse of tired, steely blue concern, and starts advancing so that he can just avoid the question. Again. "Yeah. I'm sure."
***oo***
Ventress leaves Dooku and takes on the much easier life of bounty hunting. When she sees Kenobi again, she's baffled to find him emotionally wrecked and taking a solid butt-kicking at the hands of Maul and his freakishly large brother.
When they're both in the escape pod and the Jedi has routed the navigation to some out of the way system, she gives her longtime nemesis a short, cursory glance. "It suits you," she says.
Kenobi's unswollen eye twitches in her direction. "Pardon?"
"A red blade. It suits you." She expects him to deny it or to be troubled by the accusation.
Instead he nods in what seems like agreement and doesn't seem remotely troubled by that fact. "Perhaps, but it's just a color. I was – am – unbalanced. I lost control, lost my focus," he mutters, looking away towards the viewport. Silence reigns for a few seconds. He studies the stars while she studies him. "I owe you a thank you," he eventually says.
She blinks. "What?"
The Jedi doesn't look at her, but she catches his reflection in the star-speckled glass. There's a tiny smile on his face. "When you captured me I was forced to deal with some things I hadn't taken the time to deal with yet."
Ventress gives him the same look she'd given Durge the first time she'd met the misshapen mutant. "You're thanking me for that?" Is he insane?
"The Force willed it." He closes his eyes, leans back and sighs. "I will always bear the scars, Ventress, but you forced me to face the worst of my demons. That mask is… effective."
She just stares, baffled.
"But I'm still here, still walking in the Force's light, still making mistakes," here he winces. "But I will not fall. I cannot." The grimace turns into another unexpected smile. "You made sure of that, and for that I owe you a thank you."
Then he spins in the seat and drills her with his eye. There's a spark in it, something ridiculously pure and light and it sets her spine to tingling. For the first time since she'd been a padawan to Ky Narec, since her beloved master had died, she feels the Force's light touch her and stay.
"As for the rest of that miserable experience," he murmurs, lips now twitching in the beginnings of a full-fledged grin, "I forgive you."
***oo***
Occasionally, there are moments where they get to rest. If they happen to be on Coruscant, Anakin usually takes the time to discreetly meet with his wife (something Obi-wan suspects, but he never asks or looks for proof), and Obi-wan is left to his own devices. Usually he meditates for a couple of hours or heads to one of the private dojos to get some katas in.
Every now and then, he checks in with friends. It's something he never used to do a lot of, because his duty as a Jedi used to mean research in the Archives, attending Senate hearings, or taking on additional Council-related tasks while he was at the Temple. Now… well, things change, he supposes.
Now…
He's begun to redefine what duty is and he's decided it should be more aligned with loyalty and the act of giving. Or caring, rather. He's been accused of being a workaholic by many of his close friends and acquaintances and he'd always turned it back around on them, assuring them that he did what he did out of the desire to help others.
A true statement, to be sure. He's always wanted to help.
Now…
Obi-wan smiles a little to himself, fingering the long-distance communicator he holds in his hand. After only a moment's hesitation, he enters a combination he'd memorized years ago. It's a private number, known only by a few. She's like him in that way, but he's trying to change. Trying to be more proactive. Seeking instead of reacting. It's a different sort of giving, less task-oriented and more personal.
"This is Satine."
His smile grows softer. "Hello, Duchess."
And Force, he can hear her smile. "Ben! This is a surprise."
"A good one?" he asks, smirking to the empty room.
"Well I never did think you would actually use this number, but I'd always hoped…"
It hurts, as it always does, but he reminds himself that they will always be friends. Nothing more. But definitely nothing less, either. So he moves on. "How are you doing?"
There is hesitation on the other end, and this hurts too, because how often does anyone ever ask these sorts of questions anymore? "Fine, I suppose."
He sighs tiredly and takes a seat. "Satine. How are you doing? Really."
And she sighs too. "I am fine. Truly, but… I'm afraid. My people…"
They talk for as long as she has time. It never occurs to him that she might eventually ask the same.
"I'm fine," he says and then mentally slaps himself.
"Obi-wan."
"Yes, sorry." He pauses before admitting what he doesn't like to admit. What a Jedi should never have to admit to. "I'm afraid too."
Satine, without any hesitation, says, "That's okay."
"No. It's not. I should be able to work through it. I should –"
"Ben," she interrupts. "It's okay."
He swallows and sits down. Runs a hand through his hair. Sighs. Like he always does. Finally, he offers the room a shaky smile and braces himself. "Tell me why," he pleads. "Why is fear okay?"
"Oh Ben…" he hears her whisper. "Contrary to popular belief, Master Yoda does not have a monopoly on wisdom. Not all fear leads to anger."
"Satine…" he begins.
"Fear can make you brave. And kind, and compassionate, and understanding. If you can be afraid and still move forward, well then…" she trails off and he knows she's smiling again. "You can face anything."
"Anything." He wants to believe her. Force, does he ever want to. But she hasn't slept through his nightmares, the ones with horned devils and Sith witches and trillions of battle droids all trying to steal his mind before just killing him altogether. The ones with heat and grit and wind and bleeding twin suns in a place he tries to forget (Qui-gon had been there), but can't because it seems like more than just the setting of a painful memory. More like a vision, which means he'll be back at some point.
"Yes, Ben. Anything."
He sets his jaw, closes his eyes, and nods. "Okay."
***oo***
Anakin often speculates with Padme about whether or not Obi-wan could ever feel that way about someone.
"He's human too, Ani," she always says.
"Yes, but…" he always responds. "He's a Jedi."
"And you're not?" she asks him.
"We are very different Jedi."
He used to believe it. He has to believe it. It's his only justification for keeping his marriage a secret from the man.
But then Satine Kryze is murdered, and he no longer knows what to believe.
***oo***
One of the horned devils stabs her in the gut and he goes numb with disbelief. Then he's moving and catching her in his arms and lowering her to the cold floor. Maul disappears. His brother fades. The rest of them no longer matter. Only her.
He has nothing to say. There aren't any words.
But of the two of them, she's always been stronger, so she finds some. "Obi-wan… I've always loved you." The smile can't escape from behind the grimace, but it's there. Somehow, it's there. "Remember that."
And she's gone.
He's left only with what could have been, the life they might have had if he just hadn't failed again. Grief becomes his constant companion for the next few weeks and then he wakes up one morning to discover that he isn't actually angry at Maul. He isn't angry at the Force for taking away yet another person he cares about. He isn't even angry at his fellow Jedi for not trying to understand.
Obi-wan is, quite simply, tired. He's tired of a universe that is obviously mad in spite of how orderly everything seems to be, and he's tired of people dying in spite of his trying very hard to save them.
Do or do not; there is no try.
He also discovers that in this, Master Yoda is very, very wrong. It's startling at first, but then he becomes more open to the idea. The wizened old master is still worthy of much respect and yet…
Fear can make you brave.
"Yes," he says out loud, to no one in particular. "Yes it can." Then he smiles. Grins, really, because it's suddenly become apparent to him that his friendship with that dear, dear woman had been more than enough.
Is enough.
He decides to start putting more effort into people, because that's what she would have wanted. For him to take opportunities to help people up close and not from a distance. Mad universe be damned (he may continue to lose those he cares about, but the least he can do is just be there and be present).
Fear can make you kind, and compassionate.
It isn't much later that he finds himself in yet another impossible situation. Obi-wan stands in one of the Temple's more secluded gardens and watches Anakin's padawan shake with muffled sobs. He swallows, knowing that he's failed this young togruta in a big way and may not be able to change anything and yet…
"Ahsoka," he murmurs. She doesn't turn or acknowledge his presence, so he continues. "I came to apologize for, well, for a lot of things, but I'll get to that in a moment." He stops and gathers his thoughts (he can hardly believe what he's about to say). "I want you to know that if you do decide to leave, I won't try to stop you. We've betrayed you in a way and it only makes sense for you to want to go. Master Dooku left too and –"
"I don't want to turn into a Sith."
It's a whisper and Obi-wan is absolutely stunned by it. "What?"
She turns and her face is streaked with tears. "I can't stay here, but I'm afraid that if I leave…"
Obi-wan tilts his head, realizes something, and offers her a small smile. "Darkness is a choice, Ahsoka."
"But Mortis –"
He cuts that off immediately with a sharp look. "Is in the past. You're still in the light, padawan. Scarred, perhaps, but you're here."
"Not for long." Her voice hardens and she looks away again. "I have to go."
"I know."
"It's dangerous."
"Yes."
"I'm scared."
"Good." She turns a wide-eyed stare on him and his smile widens. He walks forward and stands next to her. "That's something I understand fairly well, so I think I can help with that. I had a conversation with a friend not too long ago, and she proceeded to inform me that Master Yoda does not know everything there is to know about fear."
"But what he says is true –"
"From a certain point of view," he gently argues. "This friend of mine showed me a different side of things. One that also rings true, if you'll let it."
Ahsoka tries to smile back at him and then reaches up to wipe the tears from her face. "One last teaching moment?" she asks with a faint smirk.
Obi-wan wishes he could laugh, but his smile only shrinks when he nods (because he's losing someone again). "If you'll allow it."
"Okay."
It's perhaps his finest lesson to date, if only because he has a very good feeling about it. He doesn't get those very often.