Okay … the last of the introspection for now. Coming up in chapter eleven: things go from confusing to chaos …

Thank you so much for the kind reviews!

TPM Tatooine Rewrite: Through Glass

By: Syntyche

chapter ten: tatooine's newest celebrity … obi-wan kenobi?

Obi-Wan spent the morning familiarizing himself with the vehicle he was to be piloting the following day. It was a sort of bizarre hybrid, like a heavily-shielded landspeeder had drunkenly mated with an enthusiastically armed cloudcar and unfortunately and quite accidentally spawned something horrible. Obi-Wan eyed it skeptically.

"You and the Naboo form a symbiont circle," he whispered to himself a little sadly as he gazed at it forlornly. He wasn't sure why he said it, but he felt a little better inside for it.

"I can think of a few other things that make a 'symbiont circle,' sweetheart," offered an amused voice behind him, and he didn't have to turn to know Delian had made her way into the garage. She was almost purring as she took in the tight lines of his new flightsuit – flame-retardant, he'd been inexplicably relieved to hear. With the way things had been going lately for him, he'd probably manage to spontaneously burst into flames before this was all over.

"What do you think?" she asked sweetly as she approached, her fingers actually twitching toward him like a child near a forbidden cookie jar. "Care to give it a go? I'll be gentle."

Obi-Wan tried to maintain a disapproving look, but Force, it was getting hard. He wanted to laugh so badly … to remember for just a minute what it felt like to be happy, and not to worry every second that something was wrong, or he was about to make a mistake.

"Stop it," Delian said, sounding pissed; most likely that she considered herself rejected once again. What would happen, he wondered idly, if I ever actually responded to her propositions?

She'd probably think I impaled her with a lightsaber, Obi-Wan thought, and immediately wondered where that imagery had come from. Force, he thought again, I am getting to be quite the moody, boring young man, aren't I? I'm even depressing myself.

"Stop what?" he asked mildly.

Delian jerked her chin at him irritably. "That," she clarified, studying the hybrid for a moment before giving it a loving pat, possibly to console it for being Obi-Wan's designated racer.

"Oh, that," Obi-Wan nodded sagely, still with no idea what she referring to. "Of course. I apologize."

Delian stared at him darkly. "You're an ass. I hate you," she announced firmly.

Obi-Wan shot her his best, smoothest impression of Mace Windu's famed ladykiller smile, but was actually concerned that Delian looked a little frightened. He toned it down to just an Obi-Wan smile, the one that Qui-Gon called (under his breath) Kenobi Smile 7: Damn, Don't You Just Wish Jedi Weren't Prudish?

"All right, I don't hate you," Delian grumbled, her eyes widening in frank appreciation, "but you're still an ass. You're wreaking havoc on my life, Kenobi, you know that?"

"I'm wreaking havoc on your life…? You bought me!" Obi-Wan pointed out indignantly, scowling fiercely. "I hardly see how that qualifies me as being in a position to wreak any sort of havoc whatsoever! That you haven't brought down on yourself," he added as afterthought, still scowling slightly.

"We can change that - your position, I mean," Delian murmured invitingly, without missing a beat. Obi-Wan was amazed she didn't get mental whiplash with her constantly shifting moods. He also thought she was – hugely unsuccessfully – trying to portray to him that she possessed some sort of innocence. Unfortunately for her, however, Obi-Wan had been around Corelli throughout his young life, and was well aware that "guileless" was just not a term that could be applied to them as a whole. Most Corelli, in fact, found the insinuation offensive.

He considered his earlier line of thought. "Okay," he agreed solemnly, spreading his arms in an inviting sort of way. "Sounds good."

Delian's eyes narrowed. "Excuse me?"

"You know," Obi-Wan raised his eyebrows and exaggeratedly made a few gestures he'd picked up from some of the pilots hanging around Watto's shop right before he'd had to hurriedly usher Anakin out of hearing range. He wasn't entirely sure of all the gestures' connotations, but he did feel that the expression on Delian's face was worth his small measure of guilt at being so blatant.

The Corellian stared at him before shaking her head disgustedly. "Pervert," she muttered, turning to reach a tool case resting off to the vehicle's side. She popped the hood and promptly buried her face inside the engine, refusing to look at him.

Obi-Wan sighed. I just can't win, he mused miserably before realizing that Delian was laughing under her breath as she tried to keep her face hidden by the hybrid's open hood. Finally with a strangled-sounding snort she glanced up at him, her brown eyes dancing.

"You, Kenobi, are such a piece of work."

A corner of the Jedi's mouth lifted. "Thank you," he smiled. "My Master always thought so." He stumbled on the wording and amended quickly, with a weak smile, "thinks so."

Delian looked at him strangely. "Thought, thinks, what's the difference? Kest," she shook her head sharply before returning to her perusal of the engine. "You are so weird, Kenobi. No complaints about being a slave, but, hell, make a grammatical error and it's the end of the worlds!"

"I hardly think that's appropriate," Obi-Wan countered wryly. He had the nagging feeling he should be doing something to assist besides standing here, lightly crisping under the suns' dual assault, but he really wasn't sure what. He almost reached for a tool to take a whack at the hybrid spawn, but he had the distinct sense that Delian wouldn't appreciate him rooting around in his racer's engine without a clear knowledge of what he was doing.

Delian shrugged. "I don't really care. I still think you're weird."

"Yes, you and Anakin both," Obi-Wan agreed sardonically. He considered a moment. "And pretty much everyone who spends a lengthy amount of time with me."

"Hm. What a shock. Your Master, too?" Delian asked curiously, rummaging around and just generally making noise. Obi-Wan tried to peer over her shoulder but couldn't really tell what she was doing. I hope she has more technical prowess than I do, he mused with a small amount of concern, images of his mangled body flashing across his mind and the Jedi wondered how durable this wreck of a machine actually was. He pulled his attention away from his gruesome imaginings and considered Delian's question.

"I'm really not sure. We had – have had – some communication issues recently." Obi-Wan couldn't help but answer honestly. "Mostly my fault," he sighed, a frown tugging at his full mouth – Delian noticed and was pretty sure that it was his fifty-seventh frown in the short time they'd been together.

"Stop it! You're doing it again," she growled in frustration, swatting him roughly on the shoulder.

"What?"

"Get that look off your face; I've seen it before and I damn well won't tolerate seeing it on you. Self-pity doesn't suit you, Kenobi."

"Neither does slavery," he retorted.

Delian frowned, wiping her sweaty palms on the thighs of her techsuit with a tiny sigh. "Come on, lover," she encouraged tiredly, choosing to ignore his comment. "We've got a lot of work to do."

OOOOOOOOOO

"All right, again," Delian's voice crackled in his tiny helmet speaker. "Harder about this time, though. I want those turns as accurate as you can make 'em – if you have to use your Force, love, now's a good time to practice."

Wrestling with the sluggish steering grips, Obi-Wan tried to open himself up to the Living Force, but he was having a hell of a time getting the tiny racer to respond to his commands, and the quiet song of the Force remained distant despite his continued effort.

"I'm trying!" he shot back calmly, without allowing the frustration he was feeling to bleed into his voice. They had been working on different simulations for tomorrow's Games for most of the afternoon, and a part of him chafed at the waste of his time, but always in the back of his mind was Anakin's quiet plea, and he knew that he could not allow slavers to come for the boy and separate him from his mother. Gently, Obi-Wan felt along the bond he shared with his Master, but was not surprised by the emptiness that waited for him.

He practiced, working in sync with Delian, until the shadows had lengthened into evening and he was more exhausted than he had been in quite some time … at least a few days, he figured dryly. They had made several modifications to his racer, and even Dirak Biggs had quietly wandered in and out to make a few terse suggestions while glaring at Obi-Wan. They'd covered everything from the Games' rules to the racer's weaponry; Obi-Wan was a little hesitant about blasting the opposing racers' crafts into oblivion, but also knew he had to disable the other crafts in order to win.

In short, it had been a grueling day, but now the hybrid he'd actually grown a bit attached to responded under his fingers like he was using the Force itself to pilot it … uh, her. He was actually beginning to feel the first vestiges of a confidence that hadn't graced his soul since before he and Qui-Gon had approached the Trade Federation blockade over Naboo.

The speaker hissed to life again. "All right, hon', bring her in. You did good today."

Obi-Wan blinked. No double meaning, just simple, honest praise. He was ashamed at how good it felt.

He set the humming racer down gently just inside the garage and the engines powered down with a whine. He released the racer's protective clear dome and clambered out to where Delian and Biggs waited.

"Not bad," Dirak allowed, though no hint of friendliness flickered in his aura. Obi-Wan could only read distrust and jealousy emanating from him, though they were emotions that seemed new and foreign to the other man and it saddened the Jedi that he was responsible for the shift in Dirak's demeanor. He nodded to acknowledge the grudging compliment.

"You were great!" Delian cheered enthusiastically – though, Obi-Wan noted, she was far more restrained around Biggs today than she'd been yesterday. In fact, they seemed to be treading around each other as carefully as new kitlings. Again, his fault. Obi-Wan imagined Qui-Gon smiling at him, amused and maybe just a little self-righteous as the older Jedi surveyed the chaos his Padawan had managed to create in such a short time.

You win, Obi-Wan sighed smally, but without malice. Come back now. I miss you.

He found that he even almost missed Anakin's constant chatter; after days of being inundated with it, the lack was noticeably disconcerting. Perhaps that was why Qui-Gon was so taken with the child. He radiated excitement and exuberance, and definitely made Obi-Wan look like a party-crasher by comparison.

Oh, Master, Obi-Wan sighed. How are we going to fix this mess?

Don't center on your anxieties, Obi-Wan. It wasn't his Master from the present, just a memory that Obi-Wan dredged up, but still he wrapped it around himself like a blanket, quietly soaking up threads of comfort from the recollection of Qui-Gon's voice.

"Kenobi?"

Delian was staring at him.

Biggs was staring at him.

"Hm?" He tried not to sound as sheepish as he suddenly felt, but he refused to relinquish control of his mental Qui-Gon Quilt.

"You, um, maybe meditating a bit there, hm? Or maybe, maybe thinking a little bit about something, the race tomorrow perhaps?" Delian was grinning, but there was underlying concern darkening her eyes. It hadn't been there last night, but he had noticed it cresting in her bright eyes today when she looked at him.

He returned her smile tightly. "Of course," he murmured.

She looked unconvinced. "You want to take your speeder out?"

"No, no thanks," Obi-Wan sighed. "I've seen the inside of that thing quite enough today."

"Not her," Delian shook her head, and jerked her chin towards the sleek black speeder he'd ridden yesterday. "Her." At the Corellian's side, Biggs shifted uncomfortably at the idea but said nothing. The look on Obi-Wan's face was answer enough. "Be back before curfew," Delian teased.

"Thank you," Obi-Wan breathed warmly, his tired grey eyes glowing. He nodded to Biggs, and Delian's eyes followed the Jedi as he moved gracefully to the speeder, murmuring a few words as he caressed its body and then slung his leg over the seat, settling his muscular body lightly into place. A moment later the engine purred to life and he was gone, shooting out the open garage door with borderline reckless speed and familiarity with his craft that surprised her.

Is it warm in here? she wondered breezily, her mind already replaying the last few seconds.

"You sure that's a good idea?"

Delian rolled her eyes behind Bigg's back. "No! You're right! What the hell was I not thinking? Kenobi!" she shouted. "KENOBI! Come back! You crazy fool!" The Corellian couldn't maintain the façade and actually giggled, smiling at her companion. "He's fine, Dirak. He'll be back, trust me." She met his dark eyes self-assuredly, recalling the heavy burden the young Jedi was carrying because of her: Anakin.

"He has too much to lose if he doesn't."

OOOOOOOOOO

I was made for infinite sadness.

It was a whisper, nothing more, but Obi-Wan Kenobi recognized his own voice: a little older, much heavier, bearing great pain and loss. He considered it, twisting the thought around, then set his own words aside gently, settling them in a quiet, unused part of his mind where they would lie for a time yet.

He knelt in the sand, palms resting lightly on his thighs, trying to meditate. As much as he loved the freedom of careening through the open desert with the sun caressing his now tanned skin, he had been doing far too much introspection lately without doing anything constructive about his negative emotions.

The Unifying Force, as usual, responded quickly to his open mind, though not as warmly and comforting as he'd once been accustomed too. He was slowly growing used to its distracted presence and although it saddened him, he knew that it was all he could expect. His prescience sense suggested he take what he could get while he could.

He knew that Darkness was coming, as surely as evening draped its own dark tapestry over the quiet sands. He watched, half in expectant irony, as the shadows came closer and closer until they covered him and this desert in night.

He knew that Darkness was coming because he could feel it.

It was coming for him.

He wasn't afraid, though. He was completely calm. He had known it would come, in the back of his mind he had known as soon as he uttered the name of this planet to his Master. But it hadn't stopped them, he or Qui-Gon. It hadn't stopped him from standing by as Qui-Gon took his little troupe into Mos Espa, hadn't stopped him when he'd learned what Qui-Gon had planned to do. Even the nightmares and prescient rumblings he did nothing about, nor had he said anything as he'd tested Anakin's midichlorian count.

Why?

Despite his earlier trying to hide it away, his own voice echoed in his head, weighted and confirmed as truth by the Unifying Force:

I was made for infinite sadness.

Obi-Wan's head sagged in quiet despair and his shoulders slumped. He tried carefully to pull the ragged edges of the Unifying Force to him for comfort, but it slid through his grasping mental fingers, pulsing just out of his reach.

One silvery tear tracked its way into the thick stubble gracing his cleft chin as his frustration welled inside him. "I can't," he whispered, sinking quietly into despair. "I can't do it."

The Force slid farther out of his reach…

"I can't … "

… as the weight of his burden slowly drove him deeper on his knees, crushing him and bleeding his firmly-held control away …

"I can't!" he shouted to the sky, closing his eyes against a sob, craning his face to the stars, fighting the rising ache in his chest that made it so damned difficult to breathe.

And the last of his beloved Unifying Force slid away, leaving Obi-Wan completely alone.

OOOOOOOOOO

The low hum of an approaching speeder reached his ears and he lifted his head slowly. -danger!- flashed through his mind and he lurched unsteadily to his feet, right hand automatically going for the lightsaber safely tucked away and hidden in his belt. Watto had tried to take it from him and Obi-Wan had had to convince him otherwise. Delian had never thought to look.

He could see the speeder now: the driver was small, dressed in dark clothing, and as the speeder approached, short blonde hair shone in the wan moons' light. Obi-Wan wearily returned his lightsaber to his belt and tried to brush away the cloying numbness he'd allowed himself once again to take shelter in - he'd have to stop that; it was getting harder to leave.

"Isn't it dangerous for you to be out here alone at night?" he asked Delian softly, gently chastising, as she powered down the speeder.

"I wouldn't be out here at night if I hadn't had to come looking for you," she retorted. "I thought maybe you were lost."

"No. How'd you find me?"

Delian smiled slyly. "You've got a homing beacon." She held up his transmitter controls and Obi-Wan sighed raggedly. "I know," she nodded, and he was startled by her genuine sympathy.

"I think you'd better hang onto this, actually. Kest only knows what Dirak would do if he got a hold of it," she teased.

Obi-Wan gratefully accepted the tiny device from her, clipping it to his belt after checking to make certain it was powered down. "You came to find me to give it to me?" he questioned mildly.

"Nope. I came because Dirak thought you'd run away and stolen one of my best girls. Actually, he was going to come after you." She grinned, a touch fiercely. "I sent him the wrong way and came to haul you back myself."

Delian looked at him closely; even in the dim light he looked far too pale. Oddly worried, she asked quietly, "You all right, Kenobi?"

His ice eyes shuttered, but the remnants of his defenses were crumbling before her amazed stare. "I'm fine," he sighed. "Thank you."

"What's wrong?" Delian persisted. Her gaze tightened as she closely surveyed the young Jedi. It was his eyes, she realized. Up until now, despite whatever emotion roiled in Kenobi's stormy blue-grey eyes, there was always control calmly behind it, keeping him in check. Kenobi never fully lost himself in his emotion; he was always in command.

Until now. She watched as fine lines skittered across his shielded gaze like ice cracking, exposing the rising swells beneath. He'd seemed all right earlier; his typical blend of seriousness and dry humor, but now Delian felt that she was looking at him with new eyes that saw past the walls he usually cloaked himself in.

"Kenobi?"

"Delian?" he responded tiredly.

Delian scuffed her boot in the sand self-consciously. "Are you just worried about tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow? Oh Force." Obi-Wan passed a callused hand over his face. "Delian, I can't. Anakin … I'm not good enough," he whispered. I can't train him.

"You did fine today," Delian encouraged; Kest, but it felt strange to see Kenobi so downhearted, so … ready to give up. Had she contributed to that? Delian snorted. You'd be a fool not to think so, silly girl.

"That's enough," she admonished him sharply when he only looked at her dully by way of reply. "There isn't any capacity in you for defeat and I'm pretty sure you wouldn't really accept it anyway. So quit playing with the idea."

Obi-Wan looked at her, startled, wondering what in hell she was doing in his head. "I don't know what you're talking about," he mumbled softly. Force, why was it getting so hard to keep himself in check?

Delian swallowed hard, wondering if she should apologize to the Jedi. She was afraid that if she did, it would be difficult to keep everything else in … she wanted to be near him so badly, to soothe and caress his aches away. To see him this vulnerable tore at her; she knew, somehow, that insecurity hid in the very darkest part of his soul, and that she, in her cockiness and carelessness, had helped bring it to light.

Had helped bring him to this. This once-proud Jedi warrior who cowed before her, his slim shoulders hunched in weary defeat.

"I am so sorry," she breathed in stunned realization, "so sorry for everything I said, and the way I've treated you." Her eyes dropped to the ground, and she swallowed past her shame. "Forgive me, Obi-Wan, please."

He looked at her curiously, with aching, lonely eyes. "What is it, Delian?"

"I've been horrible," she admitted. This is it, she told herself firmly. Be brave. Don't lose him. She was moving closer to him, nearer than she'd been yet.

"I am … so aware of you," the Corellian continued, almost sounding embarrassed, but forging on. "I have been since I first laid eyes on you. Being near you, Kenobi, reminds me of everything I've ever wanted … I look into your eyes and I see the skies of a world that can never be mine. Being near you," she whispered, "makes me feel alive."

Delian swallowed hard, Kest, it was so damned difficult to be so close to him, how she wanted to touch him, to stroke his lightly bearded cheek or the hard muscles of his bicep through his loose, once-white tunic. Her breathing sped up and her body trembled – if she could just touch him ….

Obi-Wan was watching her warily with hooded eyes, and she knew that he saw the desire that marked her face and rushed her breath past her throat. She looked up at him, and there was a hint of longing in her bright eyes.

"You're welcome to stay as long as you like," she said quietly, and to Obi-Wan the sudden seriousness in her voice was akin to the evening sun slipping behind a cloud – the red mottled sky was no less beautiful, but had changed somehow into something peaceful, calm and soothing to behold. "I don't know why you're here, Obi-Wan Kenobi," she whispered, daring to stroke the side of his face with her fingers, "but I will do what I can for you." She knew he would understand the ancient words she murmured: "Amano te suh lei."

"Delian," Obi-Wan began slowly, but the look in her eyes silenced whatever he'd been about to say. In truth, he wasn't sure, only that he should say something to again dissuade her ….

Except that he found his callused fingers were threading through her short hair, stroking the curled strands gently. The layers in which she cloaked herself were peeling away as he watched, and he felt, finally, silent to him for so long the loving caress of the Living Force as if it were in the breeze that teased past his ear.

"The Force hasn't abandoned you, Delian," he whispered in wonder, "it breathes in you."

Ashamedly self-conscious, swearing at herself for letting her own defenses down, Delian tried to duck away from his piercing gaze but his blue-grey eyes held her fast. She had tried to hide it for so long ….. didn't want to be a Healer, only wanted to go home, to a world that would never accept her. Her parents had been Jedi Healers, leaving her beloved Corellia for Coruscant. They had tried to train her in their footsteps, but it wasn't what she wanted ….

Delian lifted her chin haughtily, finally snapping their locked gaze through sheer will. "I told you: we parted a long time ago, Kenobi. You would do best to let it lie." Without thinking, she reached up and tucked his braid gently behind his right ear, letting her fingertips trail down the side of his cheek. He didn't move, just watched her with an unreadable expression on his face. She wanted to kiss him, wanted to hold him, wanted him to say something further, to respond to her declaration of love, but he didn't. His eyes were sad as he studied her face.

He hesitated. "Delian, I – "

Her gaze fell; embarrassed, she backed up a step, her boots sliding in the shifting sand beneath her feet. She should have known. Her brashness was always getting the better of her. "No, don't worry about it. You're a high and mighty Jedi – stupid, of course, to think a Jedi and a girl like me – "

"Delian," he interrupted, gently clasping her fingers within his own slender ones. "It's not that at all. To 'fall in love' that's not … not the Jedi way. I can't."

"Can't?" she interjected skeptically, but didn't take her hand from his. "Or won't, Obi-Wan Kenobi?"

He smiled sadly. "Both, Delian."

"Oh." The Corellian smiled. "Is that all? In that case, I ask you again," she said softly, "what would you do tomorrow that you haven't already done?" Her gaze was suddenly vulnerable, the first true hint of it he'd seen in her normally brash demeanor. "Would you fall in love with me?" she asked quietly, bringing her face near his and gently teasing his short beard with her cheek. "Tomorrow?"

Her fingers covered his mouth when he would have spoken. "Shh," she breathed, and rested her head against his chest, smiling when his arms wrapped around her tightly.

OOOOOOOOOO