Chapter 27: Making Strides
His next few nights were restless, filled with nightmares and visions of fire and war, of blood and death, of dead Jedi and triumphant Sith. His vision from the Temple kept replaying, over and over, and each time, he felt the darkness inside him rise as his anger grew, overcome with frustration at his own inability to make sense of the visions, at the Council's stubbornness and unwillingness to act. As the nights wore on, young Kenobi growing more tired and panic-stricken as the nightmares kept him from proper rest, he became more and more disillusioned with the Jedi. It almost felt like they were trying to put him away, putting him in the library as a translator and pushing him to take a Padawan and keeping him from tracking the Sith. The past few days, he had requested several times to continue his research, investigate the Senate, visit Dooku on his home world of Serenno, but he had been denied at every turn. The Jedi Masters were arrogant, unwilling to listen to a younger Jedi, afraid that their power was being called into question, and Obi-Wan hated it.
The more he felt the Dark Side, the stronger the nightmares became, but with their overwhelming presence came clarity. His visions, blurry and hazy before, were becoming sharper, focused, more detailed. It was a war the Jedi fought, he was certain, leading a grand army, white armor emblazoned with the sigil of the Republic, marching them against an army of droids. Not the modest force of the Trade Federation, but something much bigger in scale. The kneeling figure in the next image, he did not recognize, but the Sith Lord, red saber in hand and yellow eyes blazing he recognized as Dooku, and the bodies at his feet were slain Jedi. The next were the two Sith, the man and the woman, and while Obi-Wan didn't know who they were, he recognized the man as the one that knelt before Dooku. The rest was hazy still, but it was enough. Dooku was the Sith Lord Darth Tyranus. Even the Force was screaming for him to see it.
Kenobi didn't bother telling the Council. They ignored him before, and they would ignore him again. This was a fight he needed to do on his own. He went to sleep at night, sinking into a state of deep meditation and allowing the Dark Side to wrap around him, surrounding him completely and giving him visions and nightmares, each one more vivid and cleared than the next. But at the end of it, he saw himself, blue saber drawn and holding it out against the darkness. He didn't know where he was, but he wasn't alone. He walked carefully, cautiously through the blank space, gazing behind him, off to the sides, scanning for danger, but finding nothing. The darkness was blocking out even the Force.
That's when he saw him, a man in a black cloak, yellow eyes blazing from under the shadows of his hood, mouth upturned in a cruel smirk as if he was amused. Kenobi raised his lightsaber up behind his shoulder, two fingers pointed at the Sith, and the dark figure laughed softly, his own red saber humming to life, and he assumed Obi-Wan's stance, mirroring the Jedi completely. Kenobi couldn't see who struck first, but in a flash, both men clashed, strikes precise, each move carefully calculated as slashes and parries and counters filled the air with the hissing clash of lightsabers.
Kenobi saw his opening and drove forward, but the Sith parried it last minute, the blue blade thrusting uselessly above his opponents left shoulder, and the Jedi couldn't reposition quick enough, feeling pressure and sharp pain as the red blade effortlessly entered his chest, humming behind him as the robed man slowly pressed it through him, drawing closer and bringing his face close to the dying Jedi, cruel, amused yellow eyes piercing him through him just as the red blade had. Then he was falling backwards, the blade withdrawn from his body, but the blazing eyes continued to bore through him, lighting up with sinister joy as the Jedi fell.
Obi-Wan felt himself hit his mattress hard, a strangled scream tearing from his throat as he bolted upright in his bed, breath heavy and ragged and clutching his chest, looking for the hole the Sith weapon had left. There was nothing. His heart was pounding, a cold sweat on his forehead, and he ran his shaking hands through his hair. It was a dream. Not a vision, he hoped, just a nightmare. He took deep, shuddering breaths to try and calm himself, and he looked up, gazing out the window that overlooked one of the spires of the Jedi Temple. He caught his faint reflection in the window, and for a moment, he thought he could see his eyes glowing a blazing yellow in the dark.
That was enough. Obi-Wan tore the sheets off of him and jumped out of bed, snarling and cursing as he switched the light on and ran to his mirror, his reflection pale and disheveled, his eyes a pale yellow. He closed his eyes and shook his head, rubbing his hands over his face, and Kenobi looked into the mirror again, blinking away his weariness as he leaned in close, focusing on his eyes. Blue. A hazy, cloudy blue in his exhaustion, but blue none the less. It was a dream, a trick of the light, a waking nightmare, something, but whatever it was, it was over. Everything was fine.
Kenobi groaned softly, exhaling the breath he didn't know he was holding and flopped back onto the bed. He needed to rest. He reached into the Force and he found it running cold, chilling him as it flowed through him. He grabbed his blankets off the floor and pulled them over him, curling up and nestling into them. Shivering, he felt the darkness work its way through him, slowly creeping through his mind and gently caressing him, easing him into relaxation as he surrendered to the embrace of the Dark Side. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he felt weariness settle over him, a single thought in his mind as the dark embraced him, encompassing him completely, and carried him into a dreamless sleep.
The Force shall set me free.
The morning found Obi-Wan well rested and standing still in a room, shirtless, arms extended straight out at shoulder level as an older woman took his measurements. He had promised himself new robes, and damn it, he was going to have them. He had turned in his old ones, and the woman had looked questioningly at the smiling young man; many of them were ripped, torn, bloodied and burnt, and one of them had been torn completely to pieces.
"Eventful mission?" she drawled, pressing her hand through one of the long, jagged tears.
"No, not terribly." She glared at him, rolled her eyes and threw the robes in a bin. The Jedi had been correct when he demanded they be burned. She quickly jotted down the measurements she had taken.
"You haven't been here in some time. You have grown quite a bit since we last saw you, Kenobi."
"I have always said they were oversized before, but none of you believed me." He shrugged, smiling brightly when the woman scoffed, bringing up the holographic table of the inventory.
"Same style and design?"
"No." The woman stopped, her finger in midair over the selection that she was certain he would pick. With a sigh, she swiped it away. Jedi were always so difficult after they got knighted.
"What do you want?"
"I don't know," the Jedi drawled, feigning a moment of pensive contemplation, grinning as the woman's irritation seemed to grow. "I'm no good with that sort of thing. How about you make me something in black and red?" Her eyebrow arched, and Kenobi grinned sweetly. "My friend Quinlan said it suits me. I agree."
She sighed, thinking for a moment before quickly putting in the information into the datapad. A moment later, a younger man came out of the back, carrying a bundle of neatly folded robes. "Try these and see how they fit."
Kenobi quickly shrugged them on, pulling the black shirt over his head, the elegant seams lined in red, and pulled the black robes around him, clinching them with his belt and rolling his shoulders, adjusting to the feel of them.
"What do you think?"
The woman shrugged. "They're robes, Jedi."
"Yes, but these are elegant. Sophisticated." Kenobi nodded. "These will do. Can you deliver a full set to my room?"
"I'm not a delivery boy."
"Good thing you have one, then!" he chirped, nodding toward the younger boy that stood at her side, and the old woman frowned. "I need to go stare at initiates today, so I'm in a rush." Kenobi flashed his brightest smile, bowed deeply, and left the woman muttering bitterly at her young helper. It didn't take long for the Jedi to get to the training room, the entire area packed with Masters and Knights looking for promising Padawans, initiates warming up and eager to prove themselves, and younglings lucky enough to tag along with a Master so they could watch the competitions.
Obi-Wan pushed his way through the crowd and made his way to the far end of the room, a line of raised seating reserved for the Jedi that were looking to take a student. Most of the seats were vacant, as the Jedi were still wandering around, greeting each other warmly and waiting for things to begin. Kenobi wasn't in the mood to be sociable, though, especially not when he saw Jedi he didn't know pointing, whispering, and he growled in irritation. Fame did not suit him, and the attention was unwelcome. He had hoped that his legendary status would be gone after his long absence, but it seemed as though they were still talking about the Sithkiller. Not that he felt like one, since his mission felt like such a waste, and it seemed like so long ago that he had killed Darth Maul. He found a seat on the edge and slunk into it, long leg crossing over his knee and pulling out his datapad. If he was going to be bored, he may as well get some of the translations order by the Council done.
He wasn't working long before the familiar, muffled voice of Master Plo Koon called to him, and he rose from his chair, bowing and greeting the Council member when he approached, hand in hand with a very young Togruta. "Master Plo..."
"I'm pleased to see you here, Obi-Wan," the Master said softly, laying a four fingered hand on the other Jedi's shoulder. "The Council was uncertain that you would do as we asked. You were very angry the other day."
Kenobi bowed his head. "I apologize. I was frustrated and behaved badly. You were right about it being personal for me. Of course I would submit to the wisdom of the Council."
The Master nodded. "It was a difficult meeting for all of us. I suspect there will be many more like it in the future. Do you still believe your claims?"
Kenobi looked at him suspiciously, reached out with the Force to gauge his intentions, but the Master's defenses were up. "I...have understood that many things are clouded. I see the Council's position."
"But do you believe it?"
"...no."
The Kel Dor stood taller. "Well. In our future meetings, I urge you to stand by your position."
"...what, really?"
"Yes." Kenobi thought that if he could see his mouth, the Master would be smiling. "You must stand by what you believe. The Council can handle being offended from time to time, and even Masters can be wrong."
"...what do you believe, Master?"
"You have made a compelling case, Obi-Wan. I do not know if it is enough, but it is enough to make me doubt our version of the story." The Kel Dor looked behind him when his robe was tugged, and he gently reached back and pulled the little girl forward. "This is Ahsoka Tano."
"Oh, this is the girl you found, right? Qui-Gon said you can't shut up about her."
Plo Koon laughed, deep and metallic through his respirator. "That is true. Ahsoka, this is Obi-Wan Kenobi."
The little Togruta's big blue eyes went unspeakably wide, and she dashed behind the Master's cloak. Kenobi smiled, taking his seat again as the Master sat. the little girl climbing onto the Kel Dor's lap and burying herself in his robes. "Shy?"
"Not usually, but you are the Sithkiller."
"Ah."
"There isn't a child in the Order that wouldn't give anything to be trained by you."
Kenobi laughed. "I fear I'm not a good teacher. They'd be better off with someone experienced."
"You can't tell them that." The other Jedi began taking their seats, the sea of them shifting round and finding their places as the initiates lined up, preparing to begin the display. A long fingered, green hand brushed across Kenobi's shoulder and he looked behind him to meet Luminara Unduli, and he couldn't hold back his grin as he got up and tightly hugged the woman.
"Welcome back, Obi-Wan," she said softly as he released her, and Master Plo moved to the next seat over to give the Mirialan space to sit. "I heard you were back, but I have been unable to find you."
He grinned broadly. "Busy, you know how it is."
"Upsetting the Council does not constitute as busy, Obi-Wan," the Kel Dor drawled, and Luminara smiled, bowing to the Council member as she sat, Kenobi settling between the two of them.
"I see you've changed your color scheme," the Mirialan said softly, looking the human over, and the Knight smiled slyly, leaning in toward her.
"You like it?"
"I do. You were washed out in white and tan. The black highlights your features. You're going to draw a lot of attention to yourself."
"Sweetie, I already do that, and if you're going to be jealous, just remember that there's a special place in my heart for you."
The little Togruta in Plo's lap started laughing loudly, and Luminara hit his shoulder. "Quinlan was a bad influence on you."
"Yes, but I was a good influence on him. He almost keeps a clean room now. Almost."
The initiates were introduced by their combat instructor, all of them lined up and practice sabers drawn, the instructor droning on about honor and tradition and Obi-Wan took out his datapad and pulled up his work. He remembered his own showing, and the instructor at the time went on for nearly half an hour. He was bored then, and now was no different. The little Togruta crawled over the Master's lap, grabbing the arm rest and leaning over to look at the datapad. She frowned.
"What's that?"
Kenobi smiled softly. "Work, young one." He never thought he'd ever call anyone 'young one.'
"Those aren't real words!"
"No, they're not."
"So it's pretend work?"
Kenobi laughed, tilting the datapad toward her so she could see. "No, no, it's another language. It isn't Basic. This language is very old, it isn't used anymore."
Her little finger touched the datapad, swiping all over it and making a mess of the information, the page he was working on lost. Obi-Wan didn't mind. "Why are you writing it like this if they don't use it no more?"
"Anymore, Ahsoka," the Master corrected, and she flushed deeply.
"Anymore," the Togruta repeated. "Why don't you write normal?"
"I didn't write this. I'm translating it."
"Why?"
"Because the Council asked me to," he said softly, lowering his voice as the initiates squared off.
"Why?"
"Because the information is important, and I'm the only one that can read it."
"Why?"
"Because I studied it."
"Why?"
"Ahsoka," Plo Koon admonished. "Obi-Wan doesn't need to be bothered by your questioning."
"No, no, it's alright." He took a deep breath, thinking carefully, and then quietly said, "I'm hunting the Sith, so everyone can be safe. This is their language. I learned it because if you're going to beat an enemy, you must first understand them, and we can't understand them if their secrets are hidden in their texts. I learned the language to learn of the Sith."
The big blue eyes seemed to light up, and she leaned closer to the Jedi. "Did you really kill a Sith Lord?"
"I did, yes."
She grinned, and it was infectious. Kenobi could feel himself smile despite the serious nature of the subject. "I know," she whispered, as if it was some great secret between the two of them. "I saw your holovid!"
"Ahsoka, enough," Master Plo said softly, drawing the little girl away from the Jedi. "Obi-Wan is trying to see if any of these initiates can be his Padawan."
"I can be his Padawan!" she cried, little arms extended and tiny fingers wiggling. "Please! I can be your Padawan, Master Obi-Wan!"
He smirked. "You are just a bit young for that."
Her blue eyes narrowed, arms crossing petulantly over he chest. "I am not!"
"Oh? How old are you, young one?"
She held up her hand, extending her fingers. "Five!"
Obi-Wan grinned. "I like this one, Master Plo, but she's going to be a handful to the poor sucker she's apprenticed to."
The Kel Dor drew the little Togruta into his arms. "I know she will be. But she will be a fine Jedi, when the time comes." He pointed out to the field. "Pay close attention to that Mon Calamari."
"Don't pay attention to that Mon Calamari," Luminara said softly. "Today is basically a formality for him, he's almost guaranteed to be picked up by Kit Fisto."
Plo Koon nodded. "That is true, yes."
Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. "Is this what you Masters talk about?"
"Yes."
"For the most part."
Luminara pointed to a young Mirialan on the field, delicately holding a blue lightsaber. "That is Barriss Offee. I've had my eye on her. She is still very young, but she is promising."
Obi-Wan looked over the girl deftly parry an oncoming blow. "Of course you've been watching her. She's Mirialan, it's traditional for you to train your own, isn't it?"
"That is true, yes, but that doesn't mean I have to. She is talented, that's why I'm watching her." The girl's lightsaber went flying across the arena when her arm was struck with a training blade, stumbling backwards as the saber came swinging down across her chest, the boy that swung it twirling the green blade deftly in his hand, cocky grin on his face as the crowd cheered. "...but perhaps now is not her time. She may still be too young."
"I should say so. That was an amateur mistake."
"Well, they are amateurs, Obi-Wan."
Kenobi sighed, resting his face on his hand. The initiates were young, too young for training, and those that may be ready were too aggressive, too reckless, too bold, too cocky, far too much of everything that make the Jedi think they were dangerous to train. He wondered if he had been like this when he underwent his own display, but it was so long ago, he could hardly remember. He wasn't going to take a Padawan anyway. He was just there to placate the Council. He took out his datapad and got back to work.
Luminara and Plo were attentively watching like the proper Masters they were but, like the Jedi Knight, the five year old was getting restless, one lightsaber fight looking very much like the other to her. No, she was far more interested in the Sithkiller, a man she had only heard about but never seen before today, a man that was a legend among Jedi, even though he was so much younger than basically every Jedi she knew. When the Kel Dor Master began talking to a Master on his other side, little Tano slowly crept over to the living legend.
"Master..." she whispered, but the blue eyes of the Knight never left his datapad. "Master!" She tugged on his sleeve, and his eyes darted to her swiftly, narrowed in irritation for a second before softening when he saw her. "Can I watch?"
"I've been told younglings like lightsaber fights."
She shrugged. "None of them killed a Sith."
"...alright, come on."
Little Ahsoka took it as an invitation to excitedly scramble from the Master's lap and climb over the armrest, tumbling onto the Jedi Knight in a heap, and, laughing, righted herself in his lap, nestled between his arms and watching the foreign letters scroll by on the datapad. They sat quietly, the noise of the crowd around them completely drowned out in their concentration, Ahsoka looking between the strange letters and the handsome knight, his eyes narrowed in his focused study of the material before him.
"...Master?"
"Hmm?"
"Are the Sith really out there?"
"...yes, they are."
"Oh." She bit her bottom lip. The Jedi were always talking about the Sithkiller, and how he killed a Sith, but nobody could agree on if they were still more out there or not. But if anyone knew, it would be Obi-Wan Kenobi, the Sithkiller himself. "Are they scary?"
"Yes." He looked down at the little girl, her blue eyes wide with fear, and he smiled softly. "But you have nothing to fear from them."
"Because you'll get them, right?"
He couldn't help but remember his dreams, the visions, the nightmare of himself falling to the smirking, amused Sith, and he shivered. The defeat of the Sith wouldn't happen, couldn't happen, if he continued to obey the Council. Openly defying them may not have been an option, but he would continue his investigation, gather the evidence he needed to bring solid proof to the Jedi. That was what they needed, and Obi-Wan would deliver.
"That's right. Don't worry. I'll protect you."
That was enough for the little girl. She gathered his thick, black cloak around herself, and soon enough, her safety assured, she fell asleep.
"She does admire you," Master Plo whispered, leaning over to the Jedi Knight. "They all do."
"It isn't enough," Kenobi said softly, watching the initiates fight. "I need the Council's support, and I don't have it. I need to be able to search for the Sith, not sit here in the Temple as a translator."
"When we were speaking, Master Yoda stood up for you. As did many others." The Knight's blue eyes drifted to him, holding his shielded gaze steadily. "Master Yoda believes in your visions. Nobody doubts the threat is real."
"Then why isn't anyone doing anything."
"Sometimes," the Master said thoughtfully, "the best course of action is to proceed slowly. The Council have agreed that the Sith have changed. Yoda convinced us all of that. We must be cautious. We fight something we have no way of understanding. If we are to win, we must allow them to reveal their hand."
"...I understand." And Obi-Wan really did. It was the first thing that made any sense at all since he had been back. "But I disagree with waiting for them to play their hand when we could take steps to force them to reveal it."
"Patience and prudence, Obi-Wan. We will come to understand them in time."
"Do you know what I would do?" Luminara asked softly, and Kenobi smirked.
'Eavesdropping, are we?"
She shrugged. "I couldn't help it."
"No, of course not, " he drawled, leaning in toward her. "So, what would you do?"
"While the Council deliberates, I would prepare. Brush up your lightsaber combat, renew your studies in the Force. If you aren't going to have a Padawan-"
"He is here to look for one, Luminara," Plo said sternly, his metallic voice reverberating, but the Mirialan shook her head.
"You know as well as I that he's not actually going to take a student. He's making an appearance, like the Council requested, but nobody ever said he must take a Padawan. You and I both know he won't."
"You know, I'm sitting right here." Luminara looked at him, eyebrow raised curiously, and he smiled slyly. "But you know me so well."
"I suppose it was more than we could have hoped for," the Kel Dor sighed wearily, watching as the initiates lined up, the contest completed. "Do you have a plan then, Kenobi?"
"I do. I'm going to continue my studies of Soresu, and I'm going to expand into Jar'Kai as well."
"Dual blades?" Luminara asked softly. "I don't know many Jedi that seriously practice that, but I do know one that can teach you, if you are looking for a Master. Pong Krell is an...unusual practitioner of the style."
Kenobi stood as the Masters began to file out, gently holding the sleeping Togruta to his chest. "I'll be sure to seek him out. I would also like to continue my studies with you, Luminara, if you don't mind."
She bowed her head. "The honor would be mine, Obi-Wan. What of your Force studies?"
"I plan on learning from the Council, if they'll have me, I need to take a focus in shielding. If what the Council said is true and my judgement has been clouded by my contact with the Dark Side, then I'm not ready to fight the Sith. I need to develop my resistance so I can keep others out."
Plo Koon nodded. "I believe that is wise. I am certain the Masters will be willing to aid you in this."
"Other than that," he sighed heavily, handing little Ahsoka to Master Plo, the sleeping girl grabbing the Kel Dor's cloak reflexively. "I suppose I'll be spending the next...I don't know, few years translating that datablock. I'll tell you now, I'm beginning to regret taking it, this is a monumental task."
"No time is wasted in the pursuit of knowledge, Kenobi." He glared at the Mirialan, a devious smirk on her face. Obi-Wan was beginning to think that all his friends existed simply to torment him.
"Yes, well, I'll do as the Council demands, and it will be translated. I doubt there will be anything useful in it, but if that's what the Council wants..." He sighed, running his hand through his hair. "Regardless, they never said where I needed to work, so I'll be taking it to the Senate and observing things there."
"Obi-Wan," Plo warned carefully, but the Knight brushed him off.
"Gunray thinks his Sith Lord has connections in the Senate, and if that's true, if there's anything there, I will find it."
"You must be cautious if you do this, Obi-Wan. You do not want to cause undue strain between the Jedi and the Republic with your prying."
"When have I ever caused undue strain with anyone!" Both Masters took a deep breath in, preparing to start that long list, but Kenobi quickly waived them off, turning swiftly to leave the arena. "Don't answer that!" He bowed deeply. "I'll be seeing you real soon for training, I promise."
"Yes, of course."
"May the Force be with you, Kenobi."
"It always is!" He had to push through the crowd, much larger than when he arrived, but he eventually managed to slip out of the room fairly unseen, arms tucked into the sleeves of his black cloak and eyes closed. He understood the Council a bit better now, but his anger with them had not eased. At the very least, patience wasn't bad advice. If the Sith have changed, and they have, then they wouldn't make a move for a while. They have learned patience, and Obi-Wan must as well. At the very least, it gave him time to hone his skills, observe the Senate carefully in search of Sidious, and sift through the Sith datablock for anything useful in terms of developing his Dark Side abilities.
He needed to get a handle on it. He had to be strong enough to defeat the Sith, because every time he closed his eyes, he saw himself fall, blue lightsaber dropping from his hand, the amused yellow eyes of the Sith Lord that killed him looming above him.
