"Ahsoka, I'm going out - so you don't worry."
There was no response, and Obi-Wan hesitated at the threshold before stepping backwards. The common-room in the suite between their two bedrooms was quiet and still. Ahsoka wasn't there. It wasn't unusual, even if it was disappointing. There was no reason to stay and look around the apartment in the Jedi Temple. Ahsoka was gone.
And so Obi-Wan shut the door behind him.
He understood perfectly what was going on. It could have been much worse; it could have been much better. The expectation was for the two of them to mend the wound that Anakin left behind. Obi-Wan had already experienced as such. Anakin had been so young and frightened; Obi-Wan had been lost and hurting. They had clung to each other as orphaned brothers. But now... officially, they were Master and Padawan. Obi-Wan diligently made sure he was available for her to talk to, and she listened when he spoke. But there was a formality to all of it.
Instead of turning to each other, they had turned elsewhere. It was healthier in the long-term - for Ahsoka, at least. The togruta stuck around the Halls of Healing, reaching out to Barriss Offee, tempering her wounded anger with a sense of continuity that came from seeing patients slowly recover from day to day. And Ahsoka had started to help teach some of the younglings, guiding them through the basic sets of exercises to unite body and mind and Force. They had reached out and tethered themselves to points of stability. It was just that those points weren't each other.
So, Obi-Wan took his walks.
There was little regular schedule, but as she relaxed, Asajj was always ready to see him. The small supplicant gifts were easy to discuss. Obi-Wan offered her stories about Dex Jettster and powdered-sugar doughnuts without hesitation. When there was silence that needed to be filled, he did so freely. She waited for him to notice the inequality between them, but Obi-Wan continued onwards. She knew so much of Qui-Gon before she gave him a story of Master Narec.
The Loornu Institute had beautiful gardens, immaculately kept, with varying paths through the skyhook's grounds. The paths were meant to be meditative, and when Obi-Wan suggested a walk, Asajj agreed. The shortest path was the easiest. It was also easiest for her to march ahead of him, pushily setting the pace, trying to make him yield to her will. Then the backlash of guilt hit her with her slow emotional transition. She hung behind him, trailing with her head bowed as they shuffled along the stone pathways. And she did not understand when he patiently waited for her, making sure that she did not linger more than a few steps behind.
By the time she was strong enough to limp along the longest pathway, she walked beside him.
"I still can't get used to the sunset view from a skyhook," Asajj admitted.
"If the light strikes just right, it can look quite beautiful. ...but I do have a preference for forest valleys."
"Or rock. There's a mountain range on Rattatak - sedimentary rock - you can see every band clearly for miles. It's... beautiful."
"I would very much like to see it sometime."
The wind picked up around them as the sun dipped a little lower, making Coruscant below them gleam in shining light. The looping pathway was carefully sculpted to frame the view with fresh roses, and a comfortable marble slab served as a bench. Obi-Wan stepped forward to sit down, carefully tucking his arms into his robes. The wind was slightly chilly, and Asajj did the same, tucking her hands underneath her arms and sitting with her ankles hooked underneath the bench.
"Kenobi," she confessed, "you are the most frustrating person I've ever known." Her nostrils flared a moment as she took in a deep breath and pulled out the last remaining dregs of her anger to glare at him. "I can't figure it out. I'm tired of you making me wait. Stop doing this and just tell me."
He blinked at her. "Pardon?"
"It's obvious."
"I don't -"
"Tell me what you want from me." Her voice shook in frustration. Her pale blue eye - the one remaining, uncovered by bandages - flicked over his face, trying to drink in any small expression, anything that could give her a hint. Her lip trembled in desperation, further begging ready to spill out of her mouth. If it was her body, her mind, her history - anything - she was ready to give it to him.
There was a long moment of silence between them. She waited to see greed or lust or rabid curiosity in his face. After being so used to pain, it was only logical. It was expected. She was bracing herself for it. Something had to be underneath the calm. It had been too good for too long.
"Someone to talk to," Obi-Wan confessed.
"You're lying," she immediately snapped. The wind picked up again and whistled in her ears, and he didn't look away. "You're... not lying...?" Asajj gulped solidly. "You're telling the truth." And it was so very terrifying that she immediately rose from the bench, and turned back onto the path.
"Asajj - please, wait -" As he stood, she started to run, pushing her aching body harder than she had for months. By the time she reached the safety of her room she unraveled into tears. He watched her go before slowly shuffling back up the path, knowing that he could not intrude on the distance she needed to take.
By the time he reached the Jedi Temple, it was night - not that there was much difference in Coruscant between the two. He was tired and ready to be alone, but the light was on in the common room of the suite. Ahsoka was sitting with datapads spread all around her, reviewing an essay that Barriss had recommended to her on the Force and the nature of mercy. She greeted him with a smile. "You're out late." The teasing was only polite and reserved. "Council business?"
"Just out for a walk." Obi-Wan smiled pleasantly. "I'll see you in the morning."
When the morning came, Obi-Wan only poured himself a cup of tea, staring out the window of the kitchenette. Ahsoka greeted him pleasantly. A few words were exchanged that later he couldn't remember. Routine and regular. The expected chatter between Master and Padawan.
"Master Kenobi?" He was putting on his outer robes at the door when she caught his attention. There was a quiet and suspicious sincerity to her next question. "If something important was going on, you would tell me, right?"
"Of course I would, Ahsoka."
They smiled at one another and quietly acknowledged that Obi-Wan was a terrible liar as he stepped out the door.
In a show of true friendship, Dex Jettster managed to consult with Obi-Wan despite the morning rush of commuters. By the time Obi-Wan had settled on an appropriate selection of breakfast foods (sausage rolls as well as beignets, fruit filled and plain), his hair was stringy with sweat from leaning into the greasy spoon's kitchen to talk. The long elevator ride up to the Loornu Institute skyhook was even more awkward than usual as every other individual trapped in the small space glared at him and the scents of the delicious, greasy offering he held. He brought it all the way to her door, knocking quietly and waiting for her to open it.
"Good morning," he said softly.
"Good morning."
They stared at each other a long moment, and Asajj gently took the box from him. Their fingers touched during the transfer - the first time they had truly touched. She set the box aside, tucking her hands underneath her arms - defensive, closed. His arms knit together in a similar fashion, hands folded inside his robe. There were so many things to say, and no words that were adequate.
And the movement was so sudden and deliberate - like two magnets suddenly snapping together. Her arms were around him, and his settled in around her in much the same way. The pressure, warmth, and closeness were all immediately soothing - the subtle scent of each others' bodies so close - the cadence of each others' breathing (halted and nervous as they both were). There wasn't room for anything else but honesty.
"Maybe we could go for a walk?" Asajj suggested very quietly.
"I... I would like that. Very much."
From then on, they walked the paths not only side by side, but with fingers intertwined.