Author's Notes: I wasn't entirely sure how to address the recent loss of Carrie Fisher. I was on my holiday break when she died … in fact, I was sitting on a curb at Kennedy Space Center, eating my lunch when I learned of her passing, and our bus driver made an announcement as we were leaving KSC to return to Orlando. And truly, can I say anything that hasn't already been said? I doubt it. So … safe crossing, to both Carrie and her mother. To those left behind … my most sincere condolences.

Part Six

A Burden Shared

Jedi Temple, Coruscant

Two Years after the New Jedi Reforms

(Three months since Obi-Wan and Merit's first kiss)

He found her in the training salles … the practice droids not just destroyed, but utterly shredded. Obi-Wan looked first at the droids, then at the small, huddled figure in the corner. He was in meetings for most of the day, with various Council members as they tried to make sense what happened on the city-planet. He was leaving his meeting with Master Yoda, when Bant commed him. Merit had asked her to watch Bran while she tried to deal with … everything. And Bant was worried sick about her. Yesterday was … painful … for all of them. But Merit … it affected Merit in particular. He could still hear her anguished scream of denial as the spaceport collapsed, crashing into the hoverbus terminal about a mile away.

That anguish quickly gave way to a fierce determination as they reached the disaster site, soon to be joined by other Jedi in the general area who felt the destruction and death in the Force, as well as the emergency services. They'd spent the better part of yesterday assisting first with rescue operations, and then with recovery, and finally clean-up. Obi-Wan meditated before sleeping, releasing his own grief and rage and horror into the Force. Merit, though … something was hurting his partner, and he was as worried about her as Bant was. But until now, when he saw her huddled in a corner of the room, long dark hair spilling over her shoulders, did he realize just how deeply the events of the previous day effected her. She was unable to release her emotions into the Force and it drove her here. Bant said when she commed him that Merit feared that her emotions would negatively impact her son. Since the kiss, since their confrontation over her habit of putting herself in danger (no, he still didn't accept that she was in no danger when she confronted Tayn), she was taking more care with her safety and with Bran's. So for her to retreat to the training salles …

This was very, very bad. Possibly even worse than Bant feared. Which meant that very careful handling was required. Obi-Wan bit back what he might have said to anyone else, anyone else who grew up in the Temple. Merit didn't grow up in the Temple … she grew up constantly on the run, always looking over her shoulder. With her brother dead, and the remaining Jedi in her group elsewhere, there were precious few in the galaxy whom she trusted. Obi-Wan counted himself fortunate that was listed among those few. Even so, what would have been acceptable for Bant or Garen or anyone was out of the question for Merit. So. Teasing quips were out.

And so, he sat down beside her, his back resting against the wall and his shoulder pressed against hers. This was the closest he'd been to Merit in terms of physical proximity since their kiss a few months back. He was requested by a Master for an assignment that lasted just under three months, and just returned two days earlier. They'd not yet discussed their (mutual) attraction any further, and honestly, Obi-Wan was grateful for that, as well as the assignment. It gave him time and distance to sort out how he felt and what he wanted to happen next. That still hadn't happened. However, one blessing of his relationship with Merit was her quiet acceptance of what he could offer and when he could offer it. She never asked more of him than what he could give. And now, it was his turn to return the favor. When she was ready to speak, she would. They sat in silence for several moments, before the soft inhale beside him told him that Merit was on the verge of speaking.

"I was sixteen when it happened," she said, her voice hoarse from weeping. They were the first words she'd spoken to him since the previous day. She said nothing during the recovery phase of their mission, only worked with a grim determination, but even a non-Force-sensitive could have felt the emotions rolling from her. Obi-Wan said nothing in response, and Merit went on, wiping at her eyes, "We were on Chandrila, fighting against our father's troops, trying to save anyone we could … but not nearly as many as we wanted to. It was one of the last planets holding out against Darth Cadeus … you don't want to hear what he did to Dathomir, the previous planet to fall to him, much less what he did to the Nightsisters. No one deserves that. So we fought and planned and hid, and tried to get as many people evacuated as possible. My father was something of an egotist … he liked making grand statements. So he would target the largest carrier and blow it into so much space debris. The smaller craft, he tended to leave alone … more for strategic purposes than out of the goodness of his heart. Also, they were harder to hit."

Still, Obi-Wan said nothing, because he sensed that this story was one she'd never told before, and she needed to tell it on her own terms. Once again, she swiped at her face, this time almost angrily, and in the features of the twenty-seven year old knight sitting beside him, he could see echoes of the sixteen year old padawan she was when this happened. After a moment, she took a deep breath, observing, "Some in the capital city got the bright idea to retreat to the Pinnacle. Thane advised against it, because it would provide a tempting target for our father. The Pinnacle … it was built not long after the Empire fell as a tribute to Mon Mothma, and as a reminder for people to look to the stars. But they … they were sure that it could withstand anything. It was well-fortified. Just … not well enough. There were just under three hundred people inside the Pinnacle when one of the troopers under Darth Heinous made four strategic hits before crashing into it. And the Pinnacle, which stood for decades … came down."

Just as the spaceport had the previous day. Merit swallowed hard, rasping out, "Not counting the pilot, roughly five hundred people were killed when the Pinnacle collapsed. I was escorting a group of civilians from a poorer section of the city to one of the refuges when it happened, while Thane brought up the rear. The impact of the Pinnacle hitting the ground, and the lives lost when it did … it knocked us both unconscious. When I came to, the people we'd been escorting to safety … they waited to make sure we were okay. They wanted to go back and help, but it was then that the second wave attacked. As people were rushing forward to help … you see, what no one knew was that Andriu had a perimeter of explosives planted around the Pinnacle." Obi-Wan closed his eyes, because he just knew what was coming.

Merit went on, biting her lip, "The choice to make sure Thane and I were okay … that ended up saving their lives when the ring of explosions went off. Oh, Force, Obi-Wan … the sheer destruction! The second set of explosions sent Thane into a Force-coma, because he is … he was …" She shook her head, and Obi-Wan gave into the urge to squeeze her hand. Merit inhaled slowly, murmuring, "Worst part of it was, they were timed … people started to feel safe and began crowding in to help, and another one would go off. Found that out later. No fear to anger to hate to suffering lecture, if you please, but that was it for me, so far as Andriu was concerned. What he did to me and Thane was bad enough … but what he and his troops did to those poor people is something entirely different. In the end, nearly twenty-five hundred people died that day. But my group … I got us to safety, while a few of the men carried Thane, in one of the abandoned metro stations … you know, before the Chandrilans had the capacity for space flight. When I say 'abandoned,' it hadn't been used for over six hundred years. It was dirty and dusty and we won't discuss the creepy crawlies, but we were safe. Unlike so many others."

"How did you find out about it? The abandoned metro station, I mean?" Obi-Wan asked and Merit blinked, almost startled by the sound of his voice. But she frowned thoughtfully, as if searching her memory for that specific detail. Merit sometimes got lost … not so much in her head or in the Force, but in her memories. Although she was the same age as Obi-Wan (although she was technically nearly a century younger than he was), the things she'd experienced in her own time were more in line with a Master like his Grandmaster or Master Windu.

"I was led to it by one of the children. His mother played in the old station when she was a little girl and she showed it to him once the rumors started floating that our father would target Chandrila next. The boy survived … his mother did not. She worked in the Pinnacle," Merit said softly. By now, she was leaning into Obi-Wan, her head resting on his shoulder. Obi-Wan wrapped his arm around her, sharing his warmth with his partner, who was trembling. From strong emotions or from the cold, he wasn't sure, and it didn't matter … because those tremors began to ease when he held her.

They were both silent for a long time, before Merit murmured, "I'm sorry." For what? As if hearing his internal question, she explained, "I know that I worried you and Bant, and I'll apologize to her when we return to the apartment. But my own … I was afraid. I was terrified that my anger would boil over and I would end up hurting Bran. So I came here." And that was exactly what she should do, if nothing else was helping. He wasn't seeing a problem. Merit sighed, pushing her hair back from her eyes as she explained, "I suppose … I suppose it just seems to me that you take care of me far more than I take care of you, and that's not right."

"And that is, without a doubt, the most ridiculous thing you've ever said … even worse than your claim that you don't routinely put yourself in danger," Obi-Wan said flatly. Merit again blinked at him and Obi-Wan went on, "You've been taking care of me since before we even met, or did you forget that I learned of your attempt to defend me in Council when Master declared me ready for my Trials? The way you listened to my concerns about Anakin in the days we left for Naboo? The times when you brought back lunch or dinner for me when I was more focused on our next mission than anything else? You do take care of me, Merit. Bran is your first priority, as he should be, but there has never been a time when you weren't there for me."

And there wasn't. She always stood by his side, even when she wasn't a hundred percent convinced that he was right. She always supported him, always backed him up. Just as he was trying to do for her now, because this wasn't just about yesterday. Yesterday was … it was a catalyst. A reminder of what all her father took from her. Because it wasn't bad enough that Merit was on a planet during its death throes as a civilization (Merit told him what happened to other planets once Darth Cadeus was through with it … not good was an understatement). Oh, no … Merit was on that planet during that time because her father was a Sith, trying and doing a very good job of destroying that very planet.

In her mind, she knew that her father was the guilty party … but in her sixteen year old heart, she blamed herself as well, because his blood ran through her veins (how she justified blaming herself when she didn't blame Thane, when the exact same blood ran through his veins, Obi-Wan still wasn't sure). And then there were her memories of her older brother, whom she still missed quite keenly and never truly grieved for. He'd watched as she reeled from crisis to crisis, always trying to fulfill whatever promises she'd made to the Jedi of the past, present, and future, to save who needed to be saved. Oh, he knew that she'd cried for Thane … but never truly grieved, not the way she had to in order to heal.

He was less surprised that she finally hit a durasteel wall and could go no further … and more surprised that it hadn't happened sooner. And now, they sat curled up together on the floor of a training salle, her head resting on his shoulder and his cheek resting against her hair in turn. She was slowly starting to drift off to sleep, and while Obi-Wan knew he should probably get her off this floor, he wasn't inclined to force her to move. Besides, once they got back to their quarters, she'd be apologizing to Bant for worrying her and fussing over Bran, and not getting any rest at all. No … no, this was better. He'd carried her to bed in the past … many times, and he could pick her up without waking her. Force knew he had enough practice. But as her breathing evened out, the door to the salle opened and two shadows, one tall and one tiny, stood in the light of the hall. There was no question about the identity of the smaller shadow (especially not with the hoverchair a shadow as well), and the taller one …

He wasn't especially surprised to hear Mace Windu ask softly, "How is she?" He and Master Yoda advanced into the room, the ancient Master's ears flattening against his head as he looked at Merit and he hummed under his breath. Obi-Wan tried to adjust his grasp on Merit, but the Master of the Order knelt before them both and gently eased Merit into his own arms, before rising to his feet. Obi-Wan started to follow, but Master Yoda rested a gentle clawed hand on his own knee, and the young Knight stilled.

"Heal, she shall … alone, she is not. Help with the healing, that will. Concerned about you, I am," were Yoda's rather surprising words. Obi-Wan blinked in astonishment. Concerned about him? Why? He thought back on the events of the previous day, trying to figure out why his actions or behavior would have given his great-grandmaster cause for concern. Yoda went on, "Difficult, yesterday was. For all of us. Concerned about you, I am. Know this, you do." Obi-Wan drew in a breath, to answer the Grandmaster of the Order, and his own great-grandmaster. Mace Windu stood with Merit in his arms, still as a status as he watched the ancient Master and the young Knight. At least, until he spoke.

"You have never commented on it, much less taken it for granted, but you know Yoda has always had a soft spot for you, Obi-Wan. And Yoda, let him up … she's heavier than she looks," Mace observed. Obi-Wan rolled his eyes at the older Jedi's complaint, not believing it for a second. Yoda had a soft spot for him … all right, he could accept that, but it was long past time Master Windu acknowledged that he had a soft spot for Merit as well. Yoda grunted as he looked up at his second in command, and Obi-Wan pushed back his amusement.

"Have a soft spot for Obi-Wan as well, you do. Pretend otherwise, you should not," was Yoda's severe retort. However, he did remove his hand from Obi-Wan's knee, allowing the Knight to gain his feet. And Yoda wasn't finished surprising him, as he perched up on Obi-Wan's shoulder. He said softly, "Taught us many things, yesterday did. Changing, the Jedi Order is. Changing, you are. Change with it, we must. Important to you, she is. Important to us, you are. Know this, you should. My great-grandpadawan you are." There was a point to this, because Yoda didn't ordinarily tell him things that he already knew.

But it was Mace Windu who said, his voice rough with suppressed laughter, "What he's trying to say is that he loves you and yesterday shook him badly." Yoda hmm'd at him. For his own part, Obi-Wan looked from the Koruun Master, to the young woman sleeping in his arms, to his own great-grandmaster and tried to figure out what in the name of the Force was happening. 'There is no death, there is only the Force.' He heard that so many times while he was growing up. Mace added, his voice gentling as he eased Merit back into Obi-Wan's arms, "Remember, Knight Kenobi … love and attachment aren't the same thing. If we have learned anything in the last few years, it's that … and that people should know when they are loved."

He cast a particularly meaningful look at Merit. Obi-Wan followed his gaze. But … did he love Merit? He cared for her … there was no question in his mind of that. He cared for her deeply. He was incredibly attracted to her. But love her? He couldn't answer that, not yet. But, as he followed Mace Windu and Master Yoda from the training salles, Merit sleeping peacefully against his shoulder, he decided that it wouldn't hurt to at least tell her that she was important to him … no. No, that she was dear to him. That was far closer to the truth … no matter what your point of view happened to be.

TBC