self-recriminations
When the mission on Orto Plutonia began to backslide into the nightmare territory Obi-Wan found himself giving in to the urge to find some comfort. He hated finding bodies. Wars wracked 'em up, but they'd never be something he would be comfortable with. Not even in the knowledge that each physical remnant was only a shell and that the soul had departed could he find peace. So, on this world where even death was frozen, he found a quiet corner in the main hangar, sat down on a crate, and removed one heavy glove. He pulled down the warm covering of his hood and reached into a pouch on his belt.
"What's that, general?" one of the new guys asked him. He didn't even know the guy's nickname yet.
"It's the general's bag of tokens," one of Anakin's original troopers replied. "His talismans, as you would."
Obi-Wan smiled tightly and absently noted that the man's accent was thicker than his squadmates'. He'd pull the thought out to ponder over in the dark hours of the night. For now he simply unfolded the worn-soft leather scrap that held his few treasures.
"Jedi aren't allowed attachments," Rex said softly near him. "No belongings other than what gear they need and their own self-build laser swords. They've no treasure troves, no houses full of belongings, and less kit than us. We actually probably have more as we've each got a locker full of mementos and souvenirs back on Triple Zero. They've got the shirts on their backs, sometimes one more, and that's about it. Everything they've got is in a pouch on their belts. Even the creds they spend get issued at the onset of each mission. They're like us, brothers. In more ways than anyone ever imagined."
The blue-skinned senator cocked her head and smiled as she examined the things a grown man in a minimalist order would keep forever. A pale grey rock. One lump of an almost translucent material. A piece of flimsi often folded and refolded, obviously far older than the man himself. A small mechanical part of some machine's inner workings. And, in the palm of his hand, a lock of braided hair tied into a coin-sized circle.
"A lover's reminder?" she asked, her voice holding her amusement.
Obi-Wan smiled gently and shook his head. He held the dark ringlet to his face and inhaled the scent of spicy florals and gentle herbs.
"A reminder, yes. And a woman's gift, yes. But she's not a lover. More than a friend, more like the other part of my soul."
A trooper snorted.
The jedi just shrugged. "You don't have to believe me." He turned back to the watching woman, his hand warming the braid in his fist again. "We grew up much like brother and sister and are closer even than true twins or married couples or any other bond I've ever seen or heard of or imagined. She is..."
The dark blue lips parted in a grin. "Your sanity and salvation?"
"Wholesomeness," Obi-Wan decided. "Everything good in the galaxy, everything that makes you want to be good and then be better."
The red-haired man opened his palm and offered the warm scent to the nearest trooper. The man popped the seal on his helmet and bent his face to inhale the perfume of clean, pure, intoxicating womanhood.
"Master Afir Kuay Li'in would choose other words to describe herself," Rex commented as the younger-looking clone sighed.
Obi-Wan nodded. "I daresay she would." He turned to the woman beside him. "She's my best friend and we grew up together, sharing even a sickbed in our youth and holobooks and study guides and everything the other experiences. So I forget that she is a woman with a woman's vanities. She'd like to hear herself described as strong and brave and-"
"Beautiful, ma'am," another trooper interrupted. "No offense, intended, General Kenobi, sir. But she is. She's good and all that, too, but..."
Rex nodded. "She is beautiful. Inside, out, and all the way through."
"She's the one who argues for clones rights, right, sir?" one of the newcomers asked in the privacy of his bucket's link. Several of his brothers nodded.
Obi-Wan grinned. "Beautiful she is. Pure and simple and easy. Like warm sand beneath bare feet. Or cool breezes on grasslands. Or a newly budded flower. A woodland creature's newborn. Something strong, but something that makes you want to protect."
Forks shook his head. "She's a beautiful woman, Senator," he said. "Period. Long hair, pretty face, dainty hands, and a good, curvy shape on her. And she forgets that she's not like the rest of us. She wants peace, but she wants to be a warrior because that's what we need. She's that kind of woman. The kind that wants to be what you need her to be at that moment."
The general laughed at his description.
"And she gave you this token to remind you of herself? I think you're wrong, General," the senator declared. "I think this woman does love you."
He nodded. "That she does, although not the way you mean. Trust me, Senator. I've known her all my life. All of hers. We each have our secrets. Those we hold near to ourselves despite vows to forgo attachments. She is one of mine and I am hers. More deeply than the gravity that holds the universe together. More profoundly than the truths of any religion. More binding than any vow or promise or mandate. But her desires are not what you would make of them. She's given similar tokens to others of our group. To Bant and Gavin and Tru Veld. We left her at the temple to continue training with our individual masters. She was apprenticed to the whole of the council and thus found herself wading deeper into diplomacy and grander views of the happenings in our world. But she does it with such sweetness that all of us find ourselves turning to her in our weakness. So, decades later, we each still beg new locks of hair when ours deteriorates or becomes mucked up. This war seems to rob the goodness from even her scent," he added as he rewrapped the items he always carried. They were as vital to him as the nutricubes, the water purifiers, the liquid cable, and the rebreather in his stores.
Anakin's men chuckled softly. Rex heard them and was grateful his bucket hid his face and his thoughts.
He could see the senator still didn't believe the man in front of her pulling his hood back over his head, up over his beard. He wasn't about to get Afir in trouble by offering proof of the man's words. And he thought about Forks's description. A woman that wants to be what you need her to be at that moment. Lover, friend, comforter or defender. Yes, he agreed completely. And she was his...she offered herself against all rules and regulations and loved him, a man who was not really all the way a man.
He was going to get a letter off to her soon thanking her for all that she was to him and reminding her that he appreciated all the facets of her being in his life.