Chapter 5: Escape
As promised, Qui-Gon returned before dawn the next day, and since then, they hadn't stopped running. Each morning, the trio would awaken before the sun and run from their hiding place to attack the Death Watch outposts, keeping the warriors on a frantic search for them, each passing day causing more of their number to take up the search for the renegade Duchess and her Jedi defenders. At the Duchess' request and much to Obi-Wan's relief, they rarely needed to kill the soldiers, opting instead to run and hide or render them unconscious. When killing did have to be done, it was often Qui-Gon that rushed in to swiftly dispatch their pursuers.
The outpost attacks served three very specific purposes, which was why, despite increasing danger, they continued to attack the guarded stations. First and foremost, the outposts were guaranteed to be fully supplied with food and medical supplies, which the trio was in desperate need of, as Zanbar proved to be hostile and unforgiving in the best of circumstances, and with their increased activity came the need to make certain they were getting the fuel they needed to continue running. Even still, they were becoming leaner in their flight, quickly shedding any excess weight they may have carried, their skin seeming to thin as the stringy cords of their musculature could be clearly seen. It was especially noted in the already wiry Obi-Wan, the increase of activity stimulating the growth of thin, lean muscle that lacked the nutrients to fill out his lanky frame.
The second reason was far more political. In addition to serving their ultimate goal of driving the Death Watch from their nest, attacking the outposts served as a very effective means of showing Satine's enemies that she was fighting, and after they had left the second outpost with the symbol of Clan Kryze burned into the side of the command center, they had made a point to do so at every outpost they attacked. It was a symbol of defiance, one that weakened the Death Watch in a non-violent way simply by existing. Satine was to them, a traitorous little girl, one that needed to be executed immediately, and despite being stranded on the planet from which the Death Watch operated, they had been unable to catch her. In short, it was making them look like bumbling idiots.
The third and possibly most important reason the outposts remained the targets was from the command centers they managed to take, even for a short while, they had access to the Death Watch's communications hub, and through it, they received word of what was happening in the sector as war raged across it. The Death Watch had taken Sundari, and their leader sat on the throne within the palace, but they were struggling to hold it. Every clan that opposed Clan Vizsla rose against them, and when word of Satine's survival left Zanbar, and it did quickly, her supporters rallied, forcing Death Watch to give much of the ground they gained in order to keep the palace. The city was in open rebellion with no one clan assuming control, and the Death Watch was calling upon their supporters to converge on Mandalore in order to secure the planet.
It wasn't working. Through their brief, daily information feed, Satine learned that Death Watch, while a force to be reckoned with, was heavily fractured, which explained their difficulties in hunting her so close to their own base, despite the importance of her death to their cause. They were spread far too thin, their commanders all agreeing that Satine needed to die, but none of them willing to give up their meager forces for a chance to kill her when it meant losing their territory for certain. With their leader pinned down in Sundari and with every other clan standing against them and against each other, it became impossible to mount a focused assault. Besides, one little girl, no matter how good her guards, couldn't run forever, and the dangers of Zanbar's swamps would see her dead before long.
But it didn't. Two weeks rushed by like a blur of running and fighting and hiding, and still, Satine and her Jedi guardians lived, and they were getting very good at their hit and run attacks. A new hiding place was selected every evening by Qui-Gon, and when it was time to run, Obi-Wan would escort Satine to the designated location, and provided he deemed it safe, they would hunker down and wait for the Master to return from leading the soldiers away. But soon, it would all be over. According to Qui-Gon, nearly the entire Death Watch hub was swarming the forests and swamps and plateaus in search of them, and judging by how often they heard soldiers nearby, or had to leave their location for another one of relative safety, Obi-Wan agreed with the assessment. There were more warriors in the forest than in the encampments, and so, it was finally time for them to execute their final plan. It was time to leave Zanbar.
They barely had time to talk, and rarely had the energy to, but still, Satine and Obi-Wan always seemed to find a chance to steal away and quietly whisper to each other as the boy told the Duchess about the Jedi in Mando'a. It wasn't much, sometimes little more than a few whispered sentences as they lay close together in the night, but it was enough. The learning was slow, but Satine felt she was growing to learn more and more about the Jedi, not just from Obi-Wan, but by her observations of the Master and his student. Knowing a bit about them and their philosophies helped her better understand their actions and motivations, and she found herself increasingly intrigued.
However, as the days went on and they drew closer and closer to the day when they would leave, Obi-Wan seemed to grow increasingly withdrawn, his affect flat, his expressions blank, the boy retreating deep within himself for hours at a time when they sat huddled together in hiding. This wasn't like before. Satine recognized that before, his aloofness was the product of his upbringing and his natural introversion, but what he experienced now was different. Gone was the peaceful silences, the calm ease at which he sat in contemplation and reflection. Now, he was tense, his voice always tight, and if she looked very closely, she could see beyond his emotionless exterior, at what lay within him.
It was stress, yes, but much deeper than that. Anxiety, maybe, a lack of confidence born from fear and a shattered ego, or perhaps one that was never whole to begin with. There was fear as well, a great deal of it, plain for her to see when he sat down to meditate and his breathing shuddered, uneven and fast as though he were desperately trying to keep from hyperventilation. No, this wasn't anxiety. This was panic. Though over what, she had no idea, though she tried very hard to puzzle that out as she leaned against a tree very near their new hideout and watched him as he walked through the graceful, elegant motions of one of his lightsaber forms, the Jedi weapon exchanged for a stick in favor of keeping a low profile. The hum and glow of the weapon had a habit of attracting attention they did not want.
It was the first place in nearly five days where she felt they were actually safe, the first place they hadn't stayed tense and jumpy and ready to run, the distant sounds of Mando'a shouts and commands in the air as the commandos looked for them. Here, there were only the shouts of wildlife, the rustling of the wind through the trees, the chirping of insects, the soft trickle of distant water, and the hissed curses of the Jedi as he berated himself for his poor form, his sloppy technique, his lack of focus, his everything, and not a single thing of it correct. Satine didn't see it. She didn't think she had seen anything so beautiful in her entire life. It was like dancing, like art, like the calm of night and the fire of passion in each graceful movement, like everything and more that the Jedi were restricted from, and she longed to see it done with a lightsaber clutched in his hand.
Perhaps soon. If things went well during Qui-Gon's reconnaissance, tomorrow was the day. Tomorrow, they attacked the Death Watch's main hub and left this awful planet. Maybe Obi-Wan would steal a ship that had enough room for him to practice and show her the form as it was meant to be done. But for now, there was just the two of them, alone and quiet while they waited for Qui-Gon to return with news, the first day in what seemed like forever when they could breathe, the first time in a while they could say more than a few words to each other without fear of being seen. And typically, Obi-Wan chose to spend the time alone. It was infuriating, as he so often was, and despite the differences they had managed to overcome, despite the fact that the young Jedi was so, so slowly beginning to open himself to her, Obi-Wan Kenobi still made Satine burn with her frustrations.
"You know," she said, not loudly, but loud enough to startle the boy into nearly dropping his stick, "there's a word for people like you in my language." Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth turning down into a pensive, irritated frown that made Satine smile bright as the sun. He was perturbed. She liked that look.
"There are many words for people like me in your language, as you so often remind me, and I believe you've called me all of them. Which is it today?" He held up his hand, dropping his stick on the ground as he counted off on his fingers. "There's aruetii, if you're going for a general approach. Nothing like being called an outsider. Di'kut, rude, but I think you use that affectionately, and shabuir if you're feeling particularly insulting. I've grown quite partial to or'dinii." He rolled his eyes. "I think it's becoming a pet name. You must really like me to call me idiot so often."
"Well, my father always taught me to be honest." She smiled softly at him when he reached up and snatched his braid in his hands and pulled at it, a habit she had quickly learned was a nervous one born from his natural anxiety. "I mean...not an insult." Obi-Wan's eyes looked sidelong at her. "Solus," she said softly, and the Jedi turned to her, an inquisitive look on his face, an expression that he would have hidden from her just a few weeks ago.
"Solus?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "One. The number."
"W-well..." She frowned and bit her lip as she thought how best to explain. "It...is not often used to describe a person. Not in Mandalore. It means...shy. Alone. Vulnerable." Obi-Wan frowned.
"One word sure has a lot of meaning to you Mandalorians. And given your culture, none of those are good." He paused. "...you're insulting me again, aren't you?" Satine looked up into the sky as she thought.
"It's true that these things are looked down upon in out culture. The lone soldier doesn't get far, and the shy man is seen as weak willed."
"Oh, fantastic." Satine scoffed and arrogantly put her nose in the air.
"But my people are also the ones that exalt the kandosii, the indomitable and the ruthless, so much so that the word is used interchangeably for noble, and classy, and awesome." Her eyes narrowed fiercely. "But there is nothing noble about being ruthless. My people are idiots, Obi-Wan, that's why we're fighting this stupid war!" He said nothing, and his silence...calmed her. Satine smiled softly at the teen, his head tilted as he observed her. "I don't think it's so bad to be shy, to be solus. I...think it's sweet." She frowned for a second, considering the word, and nodded when she found she liked it. "Yes. It's sweet."
"Gar ijaat ni, Satine, you honor me." For just a moment, Obi-Wan's anxiety seemed to leave him, replaced instead with modesty and a small smile on his face that shone brighter than any sun Satine had ever seen, and she could feel her heart skip a beat. She didn't like it at all, and quickly brushed the feeling away.
"I still hate you, of course," she said swiftly, and the Jedi chuckled softly.
"Yes, of course." The anxiety returned, his eyes seeming to dull as he lowered his gaze to the ground. "...are you eager to leave?"
"I am, yes." She crossed her arms over her chest and shivered as a cool wind blew through the trees. "I am trying not to get my hopes up in case Qui-Gon returns and says the time is not right. The fighting has only intensified, I cannot stay here any longer. My people need me." She smiled at him again, hoping to put the boy more at ease, but it wasn't working. Whatever it was that bothered him was beyond her reach, and the secretive boy still did not trust her with the fragile heart she knew he protected. That was fine. She didn't trust him with her own secrets either.
"There is little we can do now but wait," Obi-Wan said softly, his voice distant in his distraction, and Satine slowly reached over to him and tugged lightly on his braid, snapping him quickly out of his revere.
"Why do you have this?" she asked, running the tight, neat braid through her fingers for a moment before Obi-Wan snatched it out of her hands, tucking it behind his ear as he frowned. "Is this a Jedi thing? Or are you just really strange?"
"You would believe me strange regardless of my answer."
"Well, yes, but you are very strange, Obi-Wan." The boy's eyes flicked to the ground, and for just a moment, Satine saw the boy look hurt. Again, a rare thing for the boy to show. He was beginning to be more free with his emotions around her as he became more comfortable, or something was really bothering him and he was struggling to contain it. It was, perhaps, not the best day to tease him.
"Bic cuyir a Jetiise kebi," Obi-Wan said softly, running the braid through his fingers absently as he stared at the ground. Satine smiled gently at him, though she was certain he wasn't looking at her. Often, however, he seemed to be in tune with what she was feeling, so perhaps he could feel her satisfaction. Two weeks, and they had very little time to practice, but Obi-Wan had made large strides in the language. He was insufferably intelligent, and though he could never quite purge himself of his clipped, aristocratic accent, his infections had greatly improved. Mando'a flowed freely and beautifully off his tongue, but seeing how hard he had been on himself during his earlier practice with the stick, she doubted that he felt the same as she.
"Your Mando'a is greatly improved," she said softly in her native tongue, and she smiled when she saw the Jedi try to go unnoticed as he looked at her, his gaze focused, almost mesmerized, she thought, but she brushed the notion away. Obi-Wan wasn't engaged in anything enough to be mesmerized, and certainly not by Mando'a, which he found to be harsh and brutish.
"It's kind of you to say so..."
"I only say it because it's true." Again, the boy began to fidget uncomfortably, and with a frown, Satine grabbed his hand, a thing he immediately began to object to, but she was having none of it, and she tightened her grip and began to lead him back to their hiding place. "Come on. I'm going to teach you how to wear that armor properly, and you're going to tell me more about the Jedi, just like you promised."
"Satine, I can't-"
"I'm the reason that you're even here, Obi-Wan, I think that means you have to do what I tell you." At that, the Jedi suddenly stopped in a show of stubbornness, and Satine was wrenched backwards, the boy keeping her from falling, but she stumbled awkwardly. Frowning, she looked up into his face and saw defiance, pure and unrestrained, and she thought that perhaps she had pushed him too far. Whatever hidden, unknown stress he was under was making him...emotional. In his own, muted way, perhaps, but it shone through regardless, all the more shocking for how little he actually showed. She dropped his hand. In addition to everything else, reserved Obi-Wan had no time for peace or silence, and the invasion of his personal space may have been too much.
And then it was gone, stubborn resolve fading into tired resignation, and Satine found herself missing the brief show of temper.
"As you say, Duchess..." he almost whispered, his eyes downcast as he dragged his feet into their hideout, and Satine followed at a distance behind him. What happened? Yes, true, they were all tired from two weeks of nonstop running and fighting and fear, and despite the rations they managed to get their hands on, they were still hungry. Perhaps that was simply it. The tension had been slowly mounting since they had crashed on the planet, but especially in the past two weeks, and while Satine vented her frustrations on the Jedi in snapping fits of harsh words and insults, Obi-Wan had been a perfect gentleman, bearing it all with quiet patience, though Satine could see him growing angry as she did. He never said a word, though, which only made her more angry.
Perhaps prying wasn't the best idea at the moment.
"Obi-Wan," Satine said softly as she entered the carefully hidden hiding space, a small cave lit by the headlights of one of the Mandalorian helmets they had collected. "I'm sorry. Nothing has been easy, I know, but-"
"You bring out the worst in me..." the Jedi growled. Growled! Satine could hardly believe it. A low, tense, angry thing that reverberated from his chest, almost as if the tightly wound emotions within him were straining for freedom. It was the most emotional that he had ever sounded. "I'm sorry..." he said after a moment, continuing on in his smooth, beautiful Mando'a. "Maybe it's just the war, maybe it's just being here and being surrounded by killing and fear and violence all the time. T-there's been no time for peace, or silence, or..." He stopped, frowning. "How do you say meditation in Mando'a?" he asked in Basic, and Satine smiled sadly at him.
"Ogir cuyir nayc miit par bic. There is no word for it," she said, and the Jedi's lips turned up in a disdainful snarl.
"Of course not..." he continued in Mando'a. "But you..." He took a few short, fast breaths, a thing that seemed unintentional to Satine, before he calmed himself and regained control. "I feel your emotions. All of them, all the time, whether I want to or not, and they...effect me. All your anger, all your hate, all your fear and resentment and grief, all of it, I feel." He laughed, a high, tense nervous thing that lacked even the slightest trace of humor. This was verbal tension relief, but Satine could see it only served to heighten his anxiety and push him closer to panic.
"Do all Jedi sense emotions like this?" Obi-Wan nodded.
"Yes, but usually only when we look for it. I can usually tune it out, but you..." He laughed again. "You are so passionate, so intense, so overwhelming, I can't...I can't..." He gripped his head tightly for a moment before he began to twirl his braid tightly around his fingers. "You are a mess, Satine. And it isn't your fault. I understand it all too well, but instead of making me brave, o-or strong or focused or wise, it's making me-"
"Irritable and annoyed," the Duchess finished, and the Jedi clamped his mouth shut and nodded. With a sigh, Satine picked up the armor on the ground. "The worst in you. Irritation and anger and poor temper, all leading to your hatred of me."
"All derived from your hatred of me," he snapped, wincing as he did so and taking a few deep breaths in a futile reach for calm. It only made him more stressed. "I'm sorry..."
"Don't be, I understand," she swiftly snapped in return. "You and I are fundamentally incompatible. A Mandalorian sees a lack of passion as weakness. As soulless, which is the worst thing you can be."
"The Jedi see fierce passion as dangerous and corrupting, the fastest way to poor decisions and pain, as your war is evidence of."
"Ooh, you are awful!" the Duchess snapped. "Everything inside me, everything I have ever believed in rebels against creatures like you! Let us not forget, it was your arrogance that got us stranded here in the first place!" Again, that deeply wounded look, and Satine felt the anger drain out of her as she was filled with understanding. Her protector was afraid. They fought like this nearly every time they spoke, between the silences and moments of instruction, but this was different. All their other spats ended with irritation at the other, but neither was truly hurt or offended. It was verbal sparring, a thing that Satine happened to enjoy, and was devilishly good at. But Obi-Wan...
"Take your robes off," Satine quietly instructed the boy, his eyes shooting back at her, the rich blue doing nothing to hide the hurt and panic he was feeling. She held the armor up. "I need to teach you how to wear it properly. We'll be leaving soon, and you need to be ready." Obi-Wan didn't answer, instead nodding slightly and turned his back to her as he shed his robe and tunic, neatly folding each as he carefully set them down. Satine pretended not to look at him, but she couldn't help but glance over her shoulder at the bare-chested boy.
It wasn't a sight she hadn't seen before. She was well accustomed to watching the warriors of her clan training in the yard, a thing they most often did stripped to the waist, and despite his discretion and modesty, she had seen a fair bit of Obi-Wan shirtless, a sight that she always appreciated. He wasn't nearly so bulky or thick chested like her Mandalorian warriors, but he lacked their bluster and bravado, a thing she grateful for. Something about her brash, cocky kinsmen was inherently distasteful to the young Duchess, a thing that had kept her from becoming involved with any of them in an intimate sense, though it didn't keep her from looking and seriously admiring the view. She was a woman, after all, and Mandalorian blood ran hot with passion and lust for life and...other things.
Still, she wasn't like her sister. Bo-Katan had always been brazen and brash like the boys she trained with, and she made Satine in comparison look as though she had ice running in her veins. Satine admired from afar, but she had modesty her little sister didn't, and such things made her nearly as shy as Obi-Wan. It wasn't something she was comfortable with, a thing that her father had praised, as he often praised his eldest girl. Her innate reserve would serve her well, he always said, and she should wait for a man to prove worthy of her, which she had taken to heart, her lack of initiative leading to a lack of experience that led her here, her heart fluttering at the sight of an undressing boy, not down in a yard far below her, but a mere ten feet away.
Pathetic, she mentally chided herself. You are a woman, Satine, the Duchess of Mandalore. You do not shy from anything! His body is no different from any other man.
But it was. So, so different from her kinsmen, so much paler, so much leaner, a thing that would be seen as weakness, but she knew he was filled with power, and the more subtle strength of her protector...appealed to her. He was an unfortunate personality and a poor match for her, but he was a handsome thing to look at. A safe thing to look at. Obi-Wan was forbidden from passions of all kind, forbidden from love and lust and desire, which made him ideal. Dealing with fending off advances from a typical teenage boy was a stress she did not need, and there was no chance at that happening with Obi-Wan. His dedication to the Jedi was as absolute as her dedication to Mandalore. She didn't like him. As he had said, she brought out the worst in him, and he did likewise with her. But she respected him, learned from him, and could feel the beginnings of a highly antagonistic friendship beginning to grow between them.
She turned away from him, a fierce flush on her face, when Obi-Wan began shedding his pants. It wasn't that she was embarrassed, it was just that...well, Obi-Wan would have turned away if she were changing.
She only turned around when the Jedi tapped her shoulder a moment later, the boy clad in the tight black long sleeved shirt and pants worn under the lightweight armor to keep the skin from chaffing. A small, modest smile was on his lips as he looked at the Duchess and indicated to the clothing he wore.
"See? I figured out this part, at least." Satine laughed softly, shaking her head as she took the grieves in her hand, knelt, and began fastening them to his shins, her long, deft fingers working quickly and automatically, the armor a thing she had been working with since she had been old enough to run.
"You figured out the rest as well, for the most part," she said, grabbing two other pieces and holding them to his thighs as she attached them to his hips. "You just needed some adjustments, which is admittedly a bit trickier."
"Y-yes, it didn't feel quite right..." he stuttered, his head held high and looking away from the girl as she knelt before him and worked. His heart was racing. Quinlan often, often went into vivid, disgusting detail abut his escapades, something he and Luminara tried with all their might to avoid, but the Kiffar was not to be daunted in his efforts to shout his conquests into the ears of his best friends. This felt distressingly like some of the things he described. Obi-Wan shut his eyes tight and whispered the Code to himself in a noble effort to quell his beating heart.
It was, of course, just like this when Qui-Gon arrived, and the Master stopped dead in his tracks when he saw his student, red faced and wide eyed, staring at him in horror as the Duchess of Mandalore sat on her knees before him her hands doing something at the waist of his pants.
Satine truly did bring out the worst in everything.
"Qui-Gon!" Satine said swiftly, her voice filled with relief and happiness when she saw him, a smile on her face bright enough to light the room, and with a final tug on a strap, she rose to her feet. "We're fitting his armor, finally."
"Oh, I bet you were..." the Master said, his voice low and warning, his Padawan seeming to shrink down in size, but Satine didn't seem to notice as she picked up the chest piece.
"Well?" she asked excitedly, her fingers tightly clutching the armor, her face tight and expectant as she watched the Jedi Master. "Are we ready?" Qui-Gon walked past Satine, grabbed Obi-Wan's braid as he passed and tugged hard, a swift admonishment he had picked up from Dooku from his own wild youth. Obi-Wan quickly and obediently knelt, his lip bit and his entire body trembling, and Qui-Gon felt awful. It wasn't a harsh admonishment, but his sensitive Padawan took criticism very hard. The rush of blood that the Master had felt coursing through his Padawan when he entered quickly stilled to an even pulse, and he felt no desire within the boy. Still, it was an important reminder. Satine was, in every way, completely and totally off-limits. Obi-Wan understood this, at least. Qui-Gon had felt the boy's thoughts drift elsewhere, no doubt the influence of his friendship with the incorrigible Quinlan and his own severely repressed sexuality, but it wasn't directed at Satine. And Satine, it seemed, was simply working. There was nothing there.
Still...
"We are ready," Qui-Gon said softly, smiling when Satine gave a small, sharp cry of joy and quickly bent to fitting Obi-Wan, the boy suddenly very uncomfortable. "Everything is set, and I don't think we will have a better chance. They take the ships out daily, but they are only bringing recon ships and fighters out to look for us. The hangar is filled with cruisers and corvettes, which come and go regularly throughout the day, so stealing away with one should be a simple matter. Is Obi-Wan's Mando'a good enough?" Satine smiled brightly as her fingers quickly made the necessary adjustments to the shoulders and the gauntlets, pulling Obi-Wan to his feet.
"He's perfect!" she chirped, quickly looking over the Padawan and making any final adjustments she saw as necessary, and stepped back to admire her work. "He carries his accent, but I think it will be fine. Mandalorians are very diverse, they are a lot of different accents, even within clans."
"Then it would seem we are ready," Qui-Gon said, sighing with relief. "As always, we leave before the sun rises, but this time, we head for the main hub. We'll have to be quick and especially clever, but if you remain at my side, Satine, we-"
"Master!" It was harsh, the tone high and frantic, a thing that Qui-Gon almost never heard from Obi-Wan, even at his most anxious. He frowned, looking at the boy and reaching through the Force to touch at his mind and found it burning. His student was far past anxious and well into the realm of completely panic-stricken. The boy said nothing more, merely stared at the ground, his hands clenched tightly at his side and his entire body tense and trembling. Even Satine looked worried for him, her delicate hand instinctively reaching out toward the boy before she stopped, hesitated, and withdrew.
"Speak, Obi-Wan," the Master said softly, and with a few short, uncontrolled breaths, the Padawan turned his gaze to his Master.
"This plan is deeply flawed, Master," Obi-Wan said, his voice low and measured, but tight with anxiety far worse than what he usually exhibited. "I-I can't fly us out of here, and before you say anything," the Padawan said quickly when the Master's face took on that stern, admonishing look, "I have thought of a series of alternative plans that barely deviate from the plan we currently have." Qui-Gon sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose.
"What is it, Obi-Wan..." Obi-Wan sighed hopefully, and quickly moved to stand before his Master, and Satine watched him very carefully. When she had met him, Obi-Wan had been confident to the point of arrogance in the pilot's seat. Could such a thing be shattered so quickly? Was one failure enough for the boy to truly begin to believe that he was nothing? Satine was used to the undaunted Mandalorians, a group that suffered greatly from overconfidence, even in their failures. If his one source of pride could be so easily destroyed, than she had done him a great cruelty.
"Alright, we do the plan exactly as you said," Obi-Wan said excitedly. "Only I guard the Duchess, and you steal the ship."
"Obi-Wan Kenobi, I'm not a piilot!" Qui-Gon cried, throwing his hands in the air in his frustration. "I have never been a pilot. But you, my dear Padawan, are a pilot, despite what you may think!"
"Alright, bad plan," the Padawan said, seemingly undaunted. "That's alright, I didn't like that one either. Of course you should be the one to defend Satine." He smiled, a tight, nervous thing. "Next plan. You go to the base-"
"Obi-Wan..."
"And instead of stealing a ship, since you aren't a pilot, you mind trick the pilot of the ship you want, and have him come get us!" Obi-Wan looked at his Master expectantly, a faint smile twitching at the edge of his lips, but never forming as silence hung heavy between them. Finally, Qui-Gon sighed and shook his head.
"You have so much to learn, my Padawan...Mandalorians are fierce and passionate. They have conviction and strength. I don't think there's a Mandalorian alive that could be considered weak willed. The trick won't work." The Master and the Duchess watched as Obi-Wan's world shattered around him, no longer even attempting to conceal the panic he was feeling, and just by looking at him, Satine could plainly see the heart inside him, young and innocent and deeply and easily wounded. By killing by death, by cruelty, by his own anxiety and his desire for perfection, all of it led now to this, a frantic mess of emotions as he tried to hide himself away from confronting that which he feared.
"Master..." Obi-Wan swallowed hard and pointed at the Duchess. "She doesn't feel safe with me flying." There was silence, tense and expectant, and Qui-Gon looked between his student, so fearful and unsure, and the Duchess, confused and guilty, and he didn't know what to make of it. "She is our mission," Obi-Wan said swiftly when he could no longer stand the silence. "It's up to her to decide."
"...no, it isn't," Qui-Gon said after a moment, ignoring the young Duchess when she looked at him indignantly, and he could feel the challenge to his claim rise up within her. "It is our job to keep her alive, and we will do that by playing to our strengths." He sighed. "But...if the Duchess refuses to get on the ship if you are piloting, than I see no other choice." The Master turned to Satine. "Is what he says true? It will be difficult, but...we can find another way, if necessary."
Silence settled between them as Satine looked between Qui-Gon, worn and tired and resigned to her desire, and to Obi-Wan, tense, panic-stricken, and desperately clinging to hope that he could avoid a repeat of his failure from before. She didn't know what to do. She didn't know how to handle a boy with a shattered spirit, or how to be the one in command, the one making a decision that would determine the path they would take. But she knew she needed to. One day, she would rule over millions of shattered souls, and she would need to guide them down a new path as well.
"In two weeks, I have seen what you Jedi can do," Satine said softly. "You are...bold and fierce, you have powers I can't even begin to understand. And I have seen Obi-Wan. I know what he is capable of." She looked at him, and her eyes locked with his gentle blue, and she couldn't look away. "I have not the words to express my deep respect of your abilities, Obi-Wan. We may not like each other, but we work well together. You have learned a language in weeks. You've been shot twice and still found the strength to keep running. You do what your duty demands of you, no matter what." She smiled softly. "I have seen your limits, and you have none. I have faith that you will fly us to safety."
Satine couldn't recognize the emotions that flitted across the Padawan's face, but when Qui-Gon shifted, the Jedi Master leaning forward as if ready to rush to his student's side, she figured it couldn't have been good. It wasn't what Obi-Wan had wanted, but Satine knew it was what he needed. She just hoped she wasn't making a mistake. A lack of confidence meant death on the field of battle, but his commitment to his mission superseded everything else inside him. She only hoped it would be enough. After a moment, Kenobi found his control once again, and held on to it tightly, his face impassive but only just barely managing to keep it so. He bowed deeply to her.
"Your faith in me is misplaced, Duchess," Obi-Wan said softly, his voice cracking with all the emotion that his face didn't show. "I am unworthy of it." Without another word, Obi-Wan turned and left their hideout, and the Master sighed heavily and ran a hand down his face.
"Get some rest, Satine," Qui-Gon said softly when he saw her eyes drift toward outside where her young protector had fled. "Tomorrow won't be easy for any of us. There's no sense in making it harder by being sleep deprived."
"Y-yes, of course..." Satine silently moved to do as she was told, gathering her things and retreating to one of the walls that she would sleep against. She shivered slightly, the air growing colder as night set in, and after a moment of consideration, she grabbed Obi-Wan's soft, thick, cream-colored robe from its neatly folded stack and wrapped it around her, She laid down against the wall and nestled into the robes and immediately felt warmth spread through her. It was far warmer than she anticipated. No wonder Obi-Wan never complained about the cold.
In the silence, she could hear the young Jedi's faint, choked sobs as he desperately tried to repress them, and the soft whimper of his Code on his lips, and she started to rise, intent to go to him, but stopped herself quickly. A Jedi wasn't supposed to allow their emotions to rule them the way she knew Obi-Wan's were ruling him now. She could give him the respect of at least not bearing witness to what she was sure he considered his weakness, despite her desires to rush to him and attempt to sooth him. In the morning, Obi-Wan would be back to his normal, emotionless self for having released the tension that had been mounting and finally broke within him, and he would be ready. He always was.
The Death Watch compound was on high alert, the entire area swarming with soldiers as they left on their searches and returned from their patrols, the sentries tense and waiting, knowing what was to come. For two weeks, every morning saw another outpost attacked by the renegade New Mandalorian, Duchess Satine Kryze and her two exceedingly talented Jedi guards. They were a dangerous trio, but today, they would be ready. They stood, blasters in hand, jetpacks ready, speeders idling and recon and swift striking starfighters ready to take off at a moment's notice. The other day, they had nearly caught them. Today, they would.
Or, so went the whispers over the open com wired through Obi-Wan's helmet, commands and idle chatter he quietly shared with the two beside him. The night before had been hard on him, and he was left feeling completely lost, like the boy he had been when he stood before the Jedi Council mere days before he was to be expelled from the Order. Forced to confront his failure again and again and again, a thing that ended in unwanted tears before the greatest of the Jedi, last night had felt very, very similar, but with one key difference. Now, it wasn't just his life at risk. It was the lives of his beloved Master and the patience-testing Duchess, and that made it far, far worse, especially in light of his catastrophic failure before.
And Satine believed in him. Her! There was no sense in it beyond the desperate hope that they could leave this death trap. She hated him, he could sense that much. Over the past month they had been acquainted, they insulted each other with frequency, and argued more, and all the while, he could sense her temper flare, her emotions roiling with something that was far beyond description, certainly not something he had felt from anyone before. Her emotions were so strong, so consuming, that her emotions became a physical event, her heart racing, her breathing fast and shallow, her face flushed with rage.
And still, she had faith in him.
Obi-Wan didn't understand, and yet, something inside him responded to it, and in his misery outside the hideout, he felt warmth, like a gentle caress within him spiriting away his fears and insecurities, soothing his troubled mind and easing the panic he felt. It was the Force, he knew, but with it came the Duchess' words, soft and sweet and earnest. Satine's passion, which so usually overwhelmed him, suddenly seemed...warm and honest, heartfelt because she was passionate, trustworthy because she always spoke her mind. But the words were said calm, measured, like a Jedi, removed from her passionate whims and spoken from a place of truth. Obi-Wan found it moved him, so much so that it slipped by his carefully built defenses, and when the Code failed to calm him, Satine's faith in him did. He felt...strong. Confident, like he never had been before. To think that he would draw strength from Duchess Satine Kryze, a Mandalorian...
I am your mission, she had said to him. It made sense, then, that he would focus on the subject of his mission, that everything within him went to her protection and her defense. Of course she was a font of strength, she was the mission.
Beside him from their place of hiding, Satine laid her hand on top of his and gently squeezed, looking at the armored Jedi with a soft smile on her face, and Obi-Wan was eternally grateful for the helmet he wore. He was fiercely red, his ears burning from the affectionate gesture, and he was certain that the Duchess and the Master both could hear his heart loudly drumming against his ribs. Satine had always been nice to look at but...when did she become so beautiful?
"Are you ready, Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon asked softly, and with a short, sharp gasp, Obi-Wan tore his gaze away from the Duchess and looked at his Master, the Jedi kneeling beside him, his lightsaber clacking softly against Obi-Wan's on his belt. There was no place to put it on the armor without it being a dead giveaway. He'd have to do without.
"I am." Qui-Gon drew back, his eyes narrowing as he looked the boy over and found him assured and confident and calm, a thing he hadn't seen from his student in some time. His eyes briefly drifted to the Duchess on the other side of his apprentice before he turned his attention back to Obi-Wan.
"Are you in sync with me?" The Padawan nodded. "I'll give you the signal when you should go, but I believe you will have a better feel for when that should be with a visual on the situation. It will be chaos quickly. Make certain you rush in during it, and keep yourself open to me. You will need to find us quickly once we are on the run. This is a tide that I won't be able to hold off for long."
"I understand, Master." Qui-Gon stood from his crouch, but kept low to the ground, holding his hand out to Satine, and the girl quickly took it and stood beside him.
"May the Force be with you, Obi-Wan."
"And also with you, Master." Qui-Gon turned to leave, but was stopped when the Duchess didn't move, her feet rooted to the spot as she looked at the Jedi in the armor of her enemy.
"K'oyacyi, ner di'kut," she said, soft and sweet. Stay alive, my idiot. In the safety of his helmet, Obi-Wan couldn't help but smile.
"Gar vercopa kelir nu kyr'adyc." Your faith will not be misplaced.
Satine smiled brightly, and perhaps wouldn't have moved if Qui-Gon didn't tug insistently at her arm. With a last look over her shoulder at the Jedi she was leaving behind, Satine and Qui-Gon disappeared into the thicket of forest surrounding the expansive swamp, and Obi-Wan was alone, crouching and looking at the Death Watch base from his concealed location in the brush. He was alone, and there was silence.
Not actual silence, of course. The sounds of ships and shouts and commands carried through the air like a thousand drums all beating at once. But there was silence within him, peace where before there had been none. His path was clear, and there was very little that would keep him from accomplishing his goal. He only hoped he could remain this confident once Satine and Qui-Gon were in the ship. Stealing it wasn't going to be a problem. Getting away was.
He didn't need to wait long before he saw flames from an explosion bursting out from the woods on the other side of the compound, accompanied by a loud, deafening crash, and seconds later, the hub was swarming with soldiers, in the air, on speeders, on foot, all of them rushing out into the surrounding forest and swamps in a mad dash as they fanned out toward the explosion. Obi-Wan watched for a moment, his attention captured in rapt horror as he saw the efficiency and effectiveness at which the Death Watch mobilized. How had they managed to escape for so long? Was this a new tactic? Or had Qui-Gon just been that good, and Obi-Wan that lucky? He didn't know, and he wasn't willing to wait another day to find out. With a deep breath, the Jedi rushed out of his place in the bushes, running as fast as he could without the use of the Force toward the compound's entrance.
As he drew closer, he almost stopped and ran away when the woods before and behind him were suddenly filled with Death Watch soldiers, all of them heading back to base from their patrols, summoned to answer the call to kill the Duchess. Despite his mental hesitation, Obi-Wan's body kept moving, and he soon found himself surrounded by soldiers, running before him, beside him, behind him, and not a single one alerted to his presence. In the group, he was simply one of many, just another emerging from the woods to answer the call. Qui-Gon's intel was good. No, it was better than good, and in no time at all, Obi-Wan found himself passing through the gates of the heavily fortified compound without any suspicion, and he found himself standing amidst chaos.
Obi-Wan shut off his helmet's com as he ran through the compound, the frantic chatter disorganized and impossible to make sense of, and it was becoming apparent how, with such a quickly mobilizing force, they were able to avoid detection for so long. Without their leader present, there were too many commanders, too many vying for a very limited amount of power, too many factions, and it made even this force a splintered one. They were a weapon with no one to aim it, and therefore, it shot randomly. That may have been working in a war when every clan had turned on each other, but when looking for a teenage girl and her Jedi protectors, it was going to take much more than chance to hit them.
He managed to push his way through the chaos and make his way to the hangar, which was buzzing with pilots climbing into starfighters and troops loading up into transports that would take them to their designated search areas. Obi-Wan tore through the hangar with such intense purpose that several soldiers stepped out of his way, most of them cursing at him as he ran by, but it never amounted to more than that, as they were all trying to get somewhere as well. Everyone was occupied, consumed with their own business, and it gave Obi-Wan a clear shot to the ship he set his sights on, a small black and blue cruiser that seemed equipt to handle a crew of two, but little more than that. It was going to have to do. Anything was betetr than nothing, and the cruiser appeared to sit in the happy median between speed and defensive capabilities.
At least, he hoped it did.
Just as his foot hit the boarding ramp, Obi-Wan found himself yanked backwards by a hard, firm grip on his arm, and the Jedi found himself facing another soldier, his stance aggressive, and Obi-Wan planted his feet and mimicked his posture, a challenge to the other man, which he had hoped would be enough to deter him. It wasn't.
"What are you doing, fool?!" the soldier snarled in harsh, biting Mando'a, and Obi-Wan immediately felt his ire rise. It was grating, so unlike the gentle music of Satine's voice, and it immediately put him in a foul temper. No wonder the Mandalorians were always angry, their language was spoken by ruffians.
"I'm getting on the ship, what does it look like!" Obi-Wan snapped, trying to push past him, but the other soldier pushed him back.
"Not this ship! Get in your starfighter, spacer!"
"Someone took my starfighter!" Kenobi bit back, and when the soldier scoffed, Obi-Wan shoved him hard. "Look around you, shit for brains, it is chaos in here! I'm getting on that ship, I've got a job to do!"
"So do I!" the soldier snarled, shoving Obi-Wan back. "And right now, my job is keeping you off this cruiser! It's heading for Mandalore in an hour!"
"Oh, great!" Kenobi snapped. "You're just all helmet, no head, aren't you?" The soldier sputtered, so angry he found himself lost for words, and Obi-Wan found himself grateful that Satine had taken so much time insulting him. It was a crass language after all. "I'm going out to kill that little bitch, and right now, you're the idiot that's keeping me from doing that! You wanna tell the boss on Mandalore that this tiny cruiser was more important than a dead Duchess?" With a vicious snarl, the soldier shoved Obi-Wan again, this time as he passed by him, his hand in the air making an obscene gesture as he walked away. Without another moment of hesitation, Obi-Wan ran up the ramp of the ship,tore off his helmet, threw himself in the pilot's seat, and powered the ship on, the engines roaring to life, and moments later, Obi-Wan was in the air, his eyes closed as he felt through the Force for his Master.
He was easy to find, and the situation was bad. Very bad.
Qui-Gon had holed himself up at one of the outposts, the guard towers torn down to make a triangular barricade around the command center, and the Jedi stood out in front, both his and Obi-Wan's lightsabers in hand, the blades blazing around him as he deflected back a steady stream of blaster fire that came at him from all directions. The Master was soaked up to his chest, his robes covered in mud and grime, his forehead covered in a sheen of sweat, and while he showed no signs of fatigue yet, he would soon enough. Behind him in the doorway sat Satine, her rifle in hand as she took the shots she could, but her face was contorted in pain, and from the way she was sitting, it was clear that her leg was injured. Narrowing his focus, Obi-Wan pulled up the aiming module, his hands on the weapons triggers, and he opened fire on the swarming troops as they tackled the fallen watchtowers.
The intent was chaos, and within the span of a second, the Jedi had it. Instead of focusing their attack on the Jedi and his ward, the Mandalorians now found themselves fleeing from the low flying cruiser as it shot beam after beam of red plasma at them, the impacts from the blasts sending the warriors flying and scattering. Pulling back on the yoke, Obi-Wan shot up into the sky to loop around back toward the outpost, shooting at a few nearby starfighters as he did and striking two on his way back toward his Master. Slamming his hand on a button on the console, Obi-Wan kept up his rapid fire as the ship hissed, the boarding ramp extending as he flew low, sweeping in toward the outpost and slowing when he saw Qui-Gon now standing on top of the command center, Satine clutched protectively to his chest as hid green lightsaber cut through the air to deflect the newly focused fire.
Hovering about the structure, Obi-Wan turned his full attention toward shooting at their assailants, a watchful eye on the shields as he shot another starfighter out of the sky. He glanced out of the viewport as Qui-Gon quickly deactivated his lightsaber, scooped Satine into his arms, and used the Force to enhance his jump up to the boarding ramp, hitting the ramp heavily and quickly rushing inside, blaster fire following him.
The moment Qui-Gon was off the ramp, Obi-Wan slammed the button to close and seal the ship and threw back the accelerator, the ship lurching forward with it's quick jump to top speed, and a loud crash followed by cursing could be heard on the deck below. Qui-Gon wouldn't be happy, but there was nothing to be done about that. Pulling back on the yoke, the cruiser shot up into the sky towards the atmosphere, the Jedi navigating by feel alone and easing left and right on the yoke to avoid fire from the starships that followed in pursuit.
As they climbed higher in the sky, Obi-Wan suddenly cut power to the main thrusters, causing the cruiser to slow considerably and the starfighters shot past. Quickly engaging the thrusters once again, Obi-Wan shot down two of the fighters, locked on to the third, and gave chase, the Jedi managing to hit the other ship as it dove to circle around behind once again. With his immediate pursuers down, Obi-Wan put full power to the engines and flew at a gradual incline up toward the atmosphere in order to make their escape into space as smooth as possible.
Qui-Gon dropped into the passenger seat just as they breached Zanbar's atmosphere, Satine held tightly against him in his lap and the girl looking positively tiny in comparison to the towering Master. Obi-Wan looked at her through the corner of his eye when he heard her fast, shallow breathing, each breath shuddering with pain, and he saw her leg, her shoes removed and her pants cut off at the knee to expose a long burn on her calf, the result of plasma grazing her skin. Already, Qui-Gon had treated it, the wound shining with the smeared bacta, and the Master's hand hovering above it as he called on the Force to aid in her healing.
"I need a location for our jump, Duchess," Obi-Wan said softly, his voice even and impassive as his focus lay on the fight he had before him. The command ship above Zanbar was still there, and from the look of it, they had already gotten word about the escaping Duchess, and from the way the starfighters made for the ship, it seemed they had the ident as well. Obi-Wan's hands tightened on the controls. This was just like before...
"Ordo system," Satine said, her voice tight with pain. "It's home of Clan Ordo. They are divided, but I believe those that defend their home world are loyal to the New Mandalorians."
"You believe?!"
"At the very least, they have the strength to oppose the Death Watch, and we can't afford to be picky right now!" she snapped, and Obi-Wan nodded and punched in the coordinates. Thankfully, this ship was faster than the last, just under two minutes to jump.
"Understood," Obi-Wan said, yanking the yoke back and flipping upside down and spinning out of the half loop, pulling back on the acceleration and shooting forward, away from the capital ship and the quickly approaching starfighters.
Thirty seconds to their jump, the starfighters fell on them like a swarm. Despite his previous calm and confidence, Obi-Wan could feel his chest tighten with familiar anxiety quickly rising into panic. This wasn't just like before, this was far worse, and while they may have been out of the range of the capital ship's ion cannons, it was the starfighters that had dealt them their fatal damage before. His breathing became faster as fear gripped him, and he swallowed hard when he felt his mouth dry. He could hear Qui-Gon and Satine speaking to him, but they sounded so distant, so unclear, like he was under water and he couldn't make out what they had said to him. All he could see were the streaking lines of plasma bolts as they shot past, all he could feel was the rocking of the ship as it was struck by an unavoidable tide, all he could hear was the sound of the warning from the console announcing the diminishing shields. Thirty percent.
"Strap in, Qui-Gon, I'm going to do something stupid..." Obi-Wan said, not even trying to keep the fear out of his voice, his eyes focused straight ahead so he didn't need to look at his Master, and when he heard the clicking of the restraints, his hands tightened on the controls. He relaxed immediately, calm and warmth flooding him when he felt the Duchess lay her hand upon his arm, and he looked over and saw her, pain and fear and resignation on her face, but above all of that, he felt trust in her touch, shooting through him like electricity from her fingers, and he couldn't help but shiver. Biting his lip, his eyes narrowed in concentration, Obi-Wan pushed the yoke forward, and the cruiser lurched forward as it dove, spinning past starfighters as they swerved frantically to get out of the way of the larger ship.
When he was certain they were all following him, Obi-Wan jerked the yoke to the side, the rapid change in direction sending the ship rolling sideways through space right before he pulled back on the yoke, shooting upwards and clipping the wings of several of the fighters, his random, unpredictable, and frankly reckless flying destroying any sense of formation and sowing chaos among the ranks. Fire plasma and debris filled space as the starfighters frantically shot at the cruiser, striking their own fighters more than they managed to hit the cruiser, though Obi-Wan's collisions and the damage he absorbed quickly had the cockpit blaring with alarms as shields dropped to below fifteen percent. His hand never left the trigger, the cruiser firing bolt after bolt into space with no direction at all, his own shots intended more to cause confusion than to actually hit, though some did.
In twenty five seconds, Obi-Wan had managed to create a cloud of flame and wreckage extremely dangerous to navigate, and flipping the ship around, Obi-Wan's viewport filled with the space before them flooded with hundreds of starfighters on a swift approach, reinforcements from the cruiser that needed to navigate debris and fire to get to him. Looking straight at the ships as they quickly closed, a faint, triumphant smile spread across Obi-Wan's face as the ship shuddered, the starfighters faded from view, and his vision was filled with the blue and white of safety.
The cruiser was really only meant for two people and contained a single room with a bunk bed, which the Jedi quickly relinquished to Satine for her use. Qui-Gon found a nook near the hyperdrive, which he claimed was calming to listen to, and Obi-Wan insisted on remaining in the pilot's seat, which he said was comfortable enough to nap in. Regardless, Satine felt bad about having the room all to herself when there were two beds available, but Jedi modesty and courtesy, it seemed, had no bounds. Not that she could do anything about it anyway. Walking was painful, and Qui-Gon made it clear that the wound needed time to heal. The pain pills that they found in the ship's medical supplies were making her drowsy anyway.
She didn't want to be contained in bed, of course, but as soon as they had escaped, Qui-Gon had taken the nauseous Satine into the room to lay her down to rest. She thought the Jedi Master looked sick as well, but there was no saying anything to him. Obi-Wan's flying was reckless and dangerous, as stupid as he had said his plan was going to be, and...and completely brilliant. It was difficult to remember clearly the circumstances of their crash, but this last flight seemed so much worse. She wasn't sure if that were so or not, but one thing was clear: Obi-Wan was every bit as good a pilot as he thought he was back when they first met. But this time, it was different. This time, there was no conflict between them.
She was slowly beginning to understand the Jedi need for peace. Before, they had been fighting, and had been for days, viciously, but teens stubborn in their insistence on hating the other, Obi-Wan committed to freezing her out, and Satine committed to getting a rise out of him. The results were disastrous, leaving young Obi-Wan distracted and angry, unable to focus on the task at hand because of his anger. But this time...this time, three weeks of running on Zanbar had made them close, an understanding building between them as they explored their dislike of the other, and with their views explained and the reasons for their intense aversion to the other laid bare, they pushed past it.
And they had escaped.
Satine lifted her head when she heard the door slide open, and she smiled, propping herself up on her elbows when Obi-Wan leaned in the doorway, his soft, Jedi robes back on his body, his arms crossed loosely over his chest, and a faint, genuine smile on his face. It was the most relaxed, the most confident she had ever seen him. Not the brash confidence of the warriors of Mandalore, but a soft, subtle thing he carried closely and modestly, like something secret and precious he held close and treasured. It made the young Jedi seem enigmatic and alluring, and Satine's mind started racing with questions, things she wanted to know about Obi-Wan but didn't, all about his life, his training, the feelings he kept so closely guarded, but when she looked at him, she could manage to speak none of them.
When had she ever been speechless?!
"I..." Obi-Wan began, training off as he reached up to grab his braid, the smile on his lips growing as he chuckled softly. "How's your leg?" he asked, his voice slightly hesitant, like he had meant to say something else.
"Better," she said softly, frowning when she heard that her voice sounded thick with the effects of the painkillers. The Jedi noticed her displeasure and laughed lightly, a carefree, genuine thing that sent a shiver down her spine. She...was not used to expression of any kind from the boy. It was...unsettling? She wasn't sure what it was she was feeling, but hr stomach was tying itself in knots, a thing she chalked up to the nausea she felt from the Jedi's terrible, magnificent flying.
"I wanted to thank you," Obi-Wan said slowly, as if carefully weighing each word, his cautious personality seeming to return, though he was no less expressive. Guarded, and yet somehow so much more open. "You had no reason to put your faith in me, but you did anyway." He shrugged. "Even though we have committed to a mutual dislike. I...have a great deal to learn from you, I think."
"These drugs must be stronger than Qui-Gon thought," the Duchess said, a wry smile on her lips. "You?! Learn something from a Mandalorian? Why? Is the passionless Jedi tempted by our fire?" Obi-Wan just shrugged.
"There may be something to that." He said it so casually, with such ease and openness, that Satine couldn't help but feel her face begin to burn red. The Jedi remained cool, however, as if he had already accepted and incorporated all he had done, all he had felt, all the confidence that sprang from the depths of him when his fears were conquered and his pride reclaimed. Satine felt her pulse quicken, and this time, she couldn't even pretend it was with anger or irritation. She looked at a thing of beauty. It was as simple as that. "A great deal of pain and conflict could have been avoided if I had simply been open and honest." He pit his lip, looking at the ground for a moment before he nodded swiftly and looked back up at the Duchess. "I shall try to be more transparent with you in the future."
"...I-I'd like that."
"I think I would as well." Obi-Wan frowned slightly, his features becoming more serious. "You trusted me with your life. It is only fair I trust you with something of similar value." Satine arched an eyebrow.
"I fear I'm a poor protector. Your life would never be safe in my hands."
"No, my life ultimately means very little," Obi-Wan said softly. "The Force will take me when it is my time. I trust you with something valuable to me," he whispered, unconsciously laying his hand on his chest, a faint smile tugging on his lips, and Satine's head started swimming, with exhaustion, with the effects of the drugs, with relief, she didn't know. "I've taken up enough of your time, and you need time to rest so you can recover." The Jedi bowed deeply. "Sleep well, Satine."
The door hissed closed, and the Jedi was gone, and Satine fell back on the bed and sighed, thinking that her name on his lips was the most wonderful thing she had ever heard.
Entry thirty one.
I've lost count of how many times I owe my life to my Jedi protectors. Certainly, I will never be able to make it up to them, but if this is something they desire, they have shown no indication of it. Several times, I have gotten out of bed to ask what I could do to return the favor in some way, but both Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan have simply sent me back to bed. They say I need to rest to regain my strength, but my strength has returned, and the effects of the drugs are long gone, so Obi-Wan was sorely mistaken when he said my agreeable temperament was a result of the painkillers. It seems, despite his earlier sweetness, that he is still just an asshole. That whole incident must have been colored by the pain medication. I can think of no other explanation.
And yet, I find it difficult to continue my dislike of him after our escape. He's still infuriating, yes, and still terribly reserved and shy, but since our talk the other night, he has indeed been more open, almost as if he had suddenly grown into a body he was previously too small for. I know he is a Jedi, or training to be one, and his training forbids attachments to be formed, but I wonder if it's possible for us to be friends. We hate each other, yes, but perhaps that hatred isn't so deep as I thought. We have come to several understandings, so perhaps it is possible to bridge our differences and forge a friendship. Even though it's forbidden for him.
...this is very complicated.
I have been trying to sit down and talk with Obi-Wan, but every time I manage to get out of bed, Qui-Gon is with him. This wouldn't be a problem, of course, but the Master Jedi seems awfully suspicious of something, and it's keeping Obi-Wan silent. Perhaps he disapproves of his student's vow to be more open. I forget that Obi-Wan is still learning, and his position as a Jedi Knight isn't set. He could still fail and lose it all. Maybe it's wrong to try and get closer to him. If his duty says he may not have friendships, than it would be terribly selfish of me to impose upon that. I'll have to ask Qui-Gon what's allowed. He's friendly enough, so I can't see why Obi-Wan can't be friendly as well. Now that I'm really thinking about it, I want to be friends with him. I'm...drawn to him, I suppose, and no, it's not just because he's the only boy my age that's around. Or that he's brave and noble and intelligent and kind and-
I'm not making my case very well.
It's not just that he's attractive, because he is. A blind fool could see that. It's that I've seen his body, and it is covered in bruises and scars and cuts, and it's all because of me. Each one was meant for me, each and every one should be on my body, not his, but time and time again, he has caught me, only to fall himself, or sacrificed his well being for mine, and I can barely stand to think about it. I have been cruel to him. I have made him suffer. His anguish on Zanbar was because of me and the things I had said, and which he says I helped heal him, I know damn well that's not true. Obi-Wan had the strength within to heal himself all along. He just needed to find it. I don't know where he drew this strength from, but it doesn't matter, because he did draw upon it, and it made him strong enough to save us all.
I have developed such a deep respect for him on Zanbar. For Qui-Gon as well, but he isn't the learner like Obi-Wan is. He is a Master, and he commanded respect the moment he set foot on Sundari. Obi-Wan had to earn it, and I have been told my respect is a difficult thing to earn. I suppose they're right, which only serves to make him more impressive.
I've decided to grow closer to him. I will consult Qui-Gon, of course, but Obi-Wan's commitment to his Code is absolute. He is a good Jedi, and he will follow it. He is...safe. Nothing untoward, no hidden agenda, and no chance that he would take advantage of me, like so many other boys his age. I've never been around someone safe before, not like this. I shall have to be certain to push my attraction to him to the side, difficult as though that may be. There is no future there, not for either of us. He has his Jedi commitments, and I have Mandalore.
It's not a romantic attraction, of course! Of course it isn't! This is...a longing for friendship and companionship. I've been lonely for a very long time. My family is dead. My friends are likely dead. My people are dying. My sister wants me dead.
I deserve a friend like sweet, lovely Obi-Wan.