A/N: Hello my dears, happy Friday :). Just wanted to thank you for keeping true to this story, and tell you that I'll try to answer all your lovely reviews and comments as soon as possible. Meanwhile enjoy I hope, and see you below, Meysun.

Sparks of Hope (A Star-Wars Advent Calendar)

By Meysun

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21. Shockwaves (Kit Fisto)

21 BBY

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Kit knew he ran colder than most Jedi. It had always been that way – because there was no other way than to swim with the current, accepting what its throes could bring.

People kept forgetting – perhaps because they had no tendrils and tried to explain the world without its basic instincts. Yet Kit had always experienced them, sensed them – the pheromones that were part of his species' language.

And so, Kit knew. That people clicked together. That there was a chemistry caused not only by the Force binding them, or pulling them apart. That it was useless to try and curb them, or feel shame about it.

His human friends struggled with it. They kept trying to understand. To get themselves under control – not Quinlan, though, he had quite a knack with instinct and pheromones…

Kit sighed, placing his bottle of Jawa juice on the Temple's roof, sitting down cross-legged on the hot tiles, watching the sun turn skyscrapers to blazing swords.

There was no water here.

Nothing remotely close to who Nahdar had been – just a fallen lightsaber that had barely begun to serve. At least he had got it back.

Kit's hand moved towards his tendrils, and he began the slow process of removing the rings adorning them, one after the other.

A ring for the bubble of joy – when you became my Padawan.

Another for the current flowing through your first crystal.

A ring for the perfect stream in your movements - when you completed your senior katas.

The sun shone on Kit's green skin, on the brown wool enveloping his body – no water, no ocean, no gentle coolness. And the number of rings before him grew, stretching like a small chain of memories and achievement.

"Your heart was in the right place", Kit whispered. "Are we, though? Are we, Padawan – Masters leaving you to face your Trials alone to wedge war?"

I got your sword back, Nahdar.

Kit ran colder than most. He saw no point in displaying heavy feelings, because pheromones already told so much. But it did not mean he was numb or immune to them. It was painted in the air around him, in the invisible halo around his unadorned tendrils.

"Power is the illusion of control", Kit whispered.

He stayed like this for what felt like hours but could have been seconds, watching those rings telling of shared memories, of teaching and learning, thinking of Nahdar's too-young face. Of the lightness of his body as he had passed into the Force.

Go and rest in peace, my Padawan.

The sun grew redder and Kit simply watched it. The atmosphere around him was changing subtly, though, and he realised who was approaching even before he heard his first steps.

He knew Obi's signature, both in the Force and in the molecules around them. Unlike Quin's who was quite heady, or Nara's who was almost etherical, Obi-Wan's had something magnetic about it. It drew people towards him, because – in a somewhat touching, totally oblivious way – Obi-Wan's signature was so sincere, so very human that it often acted as a compass.

Even as kids, they had all turned towards him for guidance. And yet, he had also allowed them close – him, Quin and Nara. Allowing himself to be held, vulnerable, and trusting, in precious moments that were growing rarer and rarer as the wars were raging.

"What are you doing here, Obi?", Kit asked, lips turning up for a smile he did not feel.

His friend smiled back, gesturing towards his head.

"A mixture of repeated concussions and overreacting people", Obi-Wan replied, sitting down next to Kit, who felt his smile widen, genuine this time.

"Poor Obi", he teased, gently. "Are you even allowed to be up here?"

"I'm a Jedi Knight, Kit", Obi-Wan muttered, but there was a distinct wooziness melting into his signature, spelling pale – stubborn - here with you - bit nauseous - are you all right in a somewhat jumbled message that was so very him.

"Obi, you are a Jedi Master", Kit told him gently, dark eyes meeting his friend's worn face, determined to keep his sadness from him. "You keep forgetting."

Obi-Wan's eyes widened slightly, and then his face fell, in an uncharacteristic display of emotion.

"I am sorry, Kit. I… I don't know what to say…"

There were tears in his friend's eyes – and it was not the concussion, this was just Obi-Wan being truly him, sincere and so human, not realising that his body and soul already told it all.

"He was… He should not have been sent out there. He was too young. They are all too young. They do not understand – this violence, all these losses. It makes them so angry. They just want it to end…"

"He was too young", Kit agreed. "It made him over-confident. Reckless. And this is something so difficult to overcome…"

Obi-Wan breathed out, and nodded, aborting the move with a wince.

"Are they sending you back?", his friend asked, leaning his head against the chimney behind them.

"Not yet. They think I need a few days to recover. Just like you."

Kit's voice was teasing, but his eyes had returned to the small chain of rings before them. And Obi-Wan moved closer, scooting over like when they were younger, sleeve brushing his.

"It's not your fault, Kit", he whispered, and Kit closed his eyes, feeling himself shudder, despite the sun, because it hurt.

"Yeah", he croaked. "Just like Anakin's mechanic hand isn't yours, remember? How long until you believed it, Obi? Do you even believe it?"

"Sometimes…"

His friend's voice was hoarse. He sounded just as tired as Kit was, and his head was tilting slowly towards Kit's shoulder, eyes trained on the ground.

"I… I still wish I could have been faster. Stronger. But… Anakin does not resent me for it. And… he is still there."

Obi's brow was leaning against his shoulder now, and Kit turned towards him, realising just how pale and exhausted he was. He looked like Kit felt, deep inside, and somehow, it made him feel less lonely. Less cold.

"Yes, Obi. And for that I am nothing but grateful, truly."

He drew an arm around Obi-Wan's shoulders, allowing his friend to lean more thoroughly against him.

"Were you even released from the Halls?", he asked, gently.

"Uh-uh."

"I'll take this as a yes…", Kit said, extending a hand towards the bottle, watching the sun set slowly against the rooftops.

"I can't… I can't drink with you, though…", Obi-Wan whispered. "My head's spinning."

Kit laughed, softly, uncorking the bottle with a bold move of the thumb.

"Don't worry about it, Obi. Since you're here, I'm not technically drinking alone, am I?"

"Uh-uh."

Obi-Wan closed his eyes, and Kit raised the bottle in a silent salute.

Go in peace, Nahdar.

He lifted the bottle towards his neck, taking a healthy swig of Jawa Juice, arm wrapped around the warm, loose body of his childhood-friend who was struggling to stay awake, determined to be with him.

"I got this from Quin", he told Obi quietly. "That drama-queen commed me. Told me where to search for it, in the smelly mess of his quarters."

Obi-Wan smiled, hand loosely fisted in Kit's tunic.

"Nara called as well", Kit went on. "She told me the same, Obi."

"'Bout the Jawa Juice?", Obi asked, face scrunching up with confusion.

"Nope. About not feeling too guilty. You always were like twins, Obi…"

"She's wiser", Obi-Wan promptly replied, resting his face against Kit's shoulder again. "She knows about… stuff."

"Undoubtedly", Kit quipped, taking another swig. "Nara knows about stuff."

He would keep his tendrils unadorned, for a year. Such was the Nautolan way of mourning. What he owed Nahdar, along with letting him go.

And what he also owned his Padawan was to try and protect their young ones better, along with those who had seen what the terrible confrontation of youth and war could bring.

The Initiates, the Padawans and the Young Knights.

He could not wait to discuss it with his fellow Councillors – but tonight was a night of remembrance. Of vigil. And of quiet friendship.

And so, Kit raised his bottle and drank, quietly, weaving an unbroken chain of memories around them, releasing them gently into the Force. Watching the stars rise in the ink-like sky finally reminding him of the ocean, and its endless depths.

A/N: Kit... is certainly not an easy character to write :). I confess I even toyed with the idea of not writing him at all, because he is so calm and teasing and impenetrable I was finding it hard to find a "cracking point" to get into his head. He's somewhat rarely written and I hope I did not butcher him - he is a very, very important element in Obi-Wan's childhood group of friends calling themselves 'Still Green'. In my headcanon, the one Kit is closest to is actually Quinlan Vos, they are always bickering and competing - but he is very, very attached to Luminara and Obi-Wan. And he is, of course, one of Obi's biggest advocates for making him join the Jedi Council 3. Take care, much love, Meysun.