WARNING: I made myself cry. PTSD warning, sue warning, substance abuse, Order 66, and yes, I promise to give them all happy futures, but it ain't going to be in this chapter.
KEYnote: I hope it was apparent in the last chapter that Dooku's shovel talk was more to get at Jango and find his weaknesses than actual concern for who Obi-Wan sleeps with.
P.S. Clones will have their names, chosen mainly through learning about galactic history.
Chapter 9 - Never Stop
They settled in the garden, and unbeknownst to Dooku, Qui-Gon settled in the seat across from him.
Qui-Gon looked observably pleased with himself.
Obi-Wan was less impressed as it was partly Dooku's attachment to Qui-Gon that caused him to fall.
"How did you come to meet Fett?" Dooku asked as he poured tea.
He tried to assassinate a person I was guarding.
But the truth was something Jango himself had remembered. "Bandomeer. My short time as a slave."
"Three months a slave can feel a lifetime."
Those months in the mines were nothing to his week on Zygerria, and nothing at all to surviving the fall of his people.
It was why he had sympathy for Jango's need for revenge.
After all, Obi-Wan was about to do his damndest to get the Sith to destroy themselves. Sure, thanks to time travel, it was preventive, but it was still vengeance. He didn't delude himself otherwise.
"That was long ago."
"Indeed," Dooku said letting the subject go. "So what has truly brought you here? I have heard no rumours about your Padawan that rival those about Qui-Gon."
Obi-Wan bit back a laugh at the twist of Qui-Gon's lips at that remark.
"As I said, I am failing as my Padawan's Master. Anakin is more powerful than I am, he also pulls on the Living Force, and I do mean all of it."
Dooku sipped his tea before asking, "Qui-Gon didn't impose his teachings of the Living Force on you?"
Obi-Wan snorted, "No, he did, but how I learned what I did is different than Anakin's relationship with the Force, different than Qui-Gon even. Connecting with the Force for me, was never innate."
Dooku nodded, "It is an interesting factor that the Jedi do not often touch on."
"What is?"
"That anyone can be taught to work with the Force. The Jedi Order usually only chooses those who are innate, but that is not to say those who are not selected are incapable of reaching… enlightenment, shall we say."
"I know," Obi-Wan said, letting go of his impatience. Dooku liked to poke and Obi-Wan would not lose sight of that and let Dooku lead him down a wormhole. "But this is not Anakin's issue. He has Yoda's power but without any of his control. I learned through work, only through controlling myself can I interact with the Force, with the Light specifically. The reverse is true with Anakin, and he doesn't actively recognise the difference between Light and Dark."
"Then run him."
"What?" he asked.
"You were formally trained, as was everyone else at the Temple. The aim of your training has been how to exceed your limits. You cannot fundamentally change how you view the Force overnight. So push the boy until you and he finds his limits. From there, you can reverse engineer financing his control, because, at its base, you both need control to advance your training. Whether like you, who reaches for more power, or like your Padawan who needs more focus."
Obi-Wan blinked, "That might work…"
"However?" Dooku surmised.
"With this, you can trust him," Qui-Gon said.
Obi-Wan's eyes flicked to his old Master and Dooku's gaze followed the look, clearly seeing nothing.
Obi-Wan wanted to debate it, but Qui-Gon did know Dooku better than he did, "However, how do I keep him from hurting himself or others?"
Because Anakin could be pushed very far.
"Size is as much an internal struggle as it is an exterior one. If your worry is that by attempting something too large could lead to danger whether from dropping whatever or in a rush of adrenaline —or frustration— pull on the Dark, you merely need to increase the complexity of the task."
Obi-Wan's gaze dropped to his tea, remembering a technique he had mastered, partially out of boredom, partially out of necessity. It was based on a technique Master Fay was best known for using.
"Like manipulating a sand storm," Obi-Wan said softly.
Dooku nodded, "If he upsets you, you can bring him to a bottom of a snowy mountain and have him redirect an avalanche."
"He did that to me once," Qui-Gon remarked.
Obi-Wan nearly spat his tea, "How did you survive that?"
Dooku raised a brow, "I didn't say I've done it."
"But you made Qui-Gon do it."
Dooku's expression fought a frown, "I'm surprised he told you that."
"I didn't, but you should know why I never wanted you to meet him," Qui-Gon said.
Arguably, at this point, he did already know that.
Obi-Wan shook his head and asked both his seniors, "What happened?"
Dooku shrugged, "He jumped, he basically hopped his way over the snow. He was still partially buried, but he was able to dig himself out and was ultimately unharmed."
"Ultimately," Obi-Wan repeated dryly.
"You have always been a cold bastard," Qui-Gon said.
Dooku stilled, looking toward Qui-Gon, his eyes scanning the area as he searched for something solid.
Obi-Wan hid a smile behind his teacup, more than happy to pass Qui-Gon off to go haunt Dooku.
"Did you hear that?" Dooku asked.
"Hear what?" Obi-Wan asked, falsely concerned.
Dooku looked momentarily floored before his expression smoothed over, "Never mind. Tell me an advantage Qui-Gon isn't likely to have told me."
"Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon warned.
Obi-Wan smiled, "It would be my absolute pleasure. Tell me, did my Master ever tell you about our misfortune on Jakku?"
"Don't you dare," Qui-Gon said slowly.
This time Dooku didn't appear to hear the ghost as he replied, "No, he did not."
The next half enough passed with Dooku's deep laughter filling the gardens and Qui-Gon's irritation palpable in the Force.
After a servant came in with a second round of tea, Dooku offered, "I would be pleased, Obi-Wan, to offer you a home if you ever feel that the Order no longer serves your sensibilities."
Obi-Wan sighed, "I'm afraid that I have to return home."
"You don't have to," Dooku disputed.
"Yes, I do."
"Why?
"Because I will not leave my Padawan behind."
"He is also welcome."
Obi-Wan shook his head, "I am a Jedi, Grandmaster."
Dooku looked at him for a long moment, "You've changed."
Obi-Wan laughed, "Changed from what, you didn't know me before."
"I know the man Qui-Gon loved, the Padawan who he worried could not find a balance between being a Jedi and being a Mandalorian. What brought the two halves of you together?"
Obi-Wan stared at him, it was strange, having it put that way. Though perhaps it shouldn't have been because that is precisely what he had been running himself wary for all of these years, wasn't it?
"I stopped caring what they thought of me," he answered finally.
"Why?"
"Because I watched them both burn," Obi-Wan said too honestly. He didn't give a kriff if Dooku thought him mad, and he shouldn't, not as Sifo-Dyas's friend and not as he was one of the Sith looking to accomplish just such a nightmare. "I watched them be picked off throughout the galaxy and I saw Mandalore glassed, and in the aftermath, do you know what I discovered?"
Dooku shook his head, those dark eyes watching him carefully.
"I learned that what my parents tried to take away from was not theirs to take, being a Mandalorian is not a race but a creed. I learned that Sith could snuff every light in the galaxy and the Jedi would remain, even if only the fringes of the galaxy."
"A bold statement."
Obi-Wan knew his smile was self-deprecating, "No darkness is eternal, no light is insurmountable, but where there is life, there is the Force."
Dooku's lips curled in a repressed sneer, "A platitude."
"Perhaps, or perhaps in all its lack of nuance, the Code was quite literally when it says there is no death, only the Force."
"If you truly listened to the Force, Master," Qui-Gon said. "You would have no need to miss me."
Dooku stood, his teacup falling from his hand and shattering on the stone path.
"Are you alright, Grandmaster?" Obi-Wan asked, delighting in Dooku's apparent paranoia.
To his credit, Dooku didn't show any more outward signs of disturbance, "Quite. I must leave you now. You are welcome to take any of my single pilot ships for your return to the Temple."
"Thank you—" Obi-Wan said to Dooku's retreating back.
Once he was out of earshot, Obi-Wan asked the ghost, "Will you remain?"
Qui-Gon nodded, "Following you is easy enough if I stay with you. I could possibly do the same if I can rebuild my bond to Dooku."
Still speaking lowly so no recording device was likely to pick up his voice, he asked, "Is there a risk?"
Qui-Gon nodded, "I can only form; remain conscious of time and space because our bond allows it. But with space between us, between Serreno and Coruscant, it would take me time, months, years, to return to you. And I don't know if Dooku could harm me with the Force. The Sith have more… experience with Force ghosts."
Obi-Wan nodded, "If you believe it is worth the risk, then it would be an advantageous position. You cannot spy on Palpatine directly."
"And Dooku still cares for me."
Obi-Wan nodded, Dooku loved Qui-Gon as a father loves a son, that love had pushed him toward his fall.
Here was hoping, that love could pull him back from the brink.
Jango sat vagile by his son's bed as he waited for the blood treatments to revive him. They wouldn't be leaving Kamino for a while. Maybe not for another year. This last scare had been bad.
Jango had almost thought he lost him a time or two, the simple blood transfusions between them almost hadn't been enough this time.
Boba woke once in the night, nearly a week after a stint in an air-locked chamber.
His crying out and reaching nearly broke Jango anew.
Jango leaned forward, catching that little hand in his.
The oldest clone was six-ish years old, so his toddler seemed especially small as he asked, "Where is Wan going?"
Jango's heart leeched, "Home."
Boba tried sitting up looking around and calling, "Wan!?"
Jango hushed him, helping him lay back down.
"Not here, Bo'ika. Obi-Wan returned to the Jetii Temple."
"But we're his home, Buir. He's good, he needs us."
Jango shook his head, "He's going to be fine, ad'ika."
"No! He's not, he's sad. Buir, he's sad you can't let him go. He needs you."
Jango's heart twinged again.
Boba began to drift back to sleep still speaking, "When is Wan coming back? I can't wait to show Wan my room. And Cody and 17 will like him, know they will…"
Jango let out a long breath, burying his face in his hands.
He was so karked. So karked! He had karked everything up!
He didn't know how to save his son, didn't know how to save the other ade.
And he didn't know what evils the Kaminoans had planned if he tried to save them.
Anakin wasn't over Obi-Wan's death.
But things were getting easier.
Master Windu and Knight Depa had begun training him in lightsaber forms.
Jedi Garen, one of Obi-Wan's old friends who hadn't become a Knight at all, instead he had joined the ExplorCorps and became a pilot.
Anakin had never thought there were cooler things than Jedi Knights, but Geran was skilled with a lightsaber, that he got to keep, and as a Corpsmen, could get publicly married and have children and maybe even mothers…
Anakin had never had so many choices before, or at least he never understood that he had. He regretted being so afraid of Obi-Wan not wanting him that he never even considered there being anything else.
He also started making friends in his own age group, like Darra Thel-Tanis and Tru Veld.
Even Ferus Olin wasn't so bad, most of the time, sort of…
But all and all, he didn't feel as lost as he might have.
And when his temporary rooming with Master Ali-Alann —because he hadn't been able to sleep in Obi-Wan's apartment— became more permanent, no one judged him.
No one looked at him weirdly and no one mocked him.
Not even Ferus.
Master Ali-Alann was more patient than his mother —which Anakin didn't think was possible. He helped Anakin with all of his homework and told the best stories about Jedi throughout history.
It was enough to make Anakin appreciate why Obi-Wan had liked history classes so much. But Obi-Wan was a bit of a nerd who liked the details about military tactics, while Anakin vastly preferred the individual battles between the Jedi and the Sith.
"Master?" Anakin asked.
Master Ali-Alann turned to him, "Anakin, excellent, would you have time to help us?"
Anakin blinked, "We?" he looked behind him at the jungle garden that was grown into a section of Temple, where he saw the Council Member, Master Plo Koon leaning against a tree.
That's when he noticed the sheen of sweat on Master Ali-Alann's forehead. "We are playing tag with the Nexu clan, and it would seem Master Plo and I would greatly appreciate some backup."
Anakin grinned, "Sure."
Plo said something in his own language that sounded like a prayer.
"Whose it?" Anakin asked.
A Togruta youngling flew out of the trees and tackled him.
She couldn't have been more than four years old, and she was tiny, but she brought Anakin down into the grass.
"I'm Ahsoka," she told him, then booped his nose with a finger, "And you're it!"
She launched herself up into the canopy a moment later.
Anakin blinked, staring up at the foliage.
What had just happened?
Anakin pushed himself up, gathering the Force to him, "Oh, it's on."
Giggling filled the trees.
"Good luck, Padawan," Master Ali-Alann called.
Anakin had never before appreciated how fast four to seven-year-olds could be when armed with the Force.
Jango made the mistake of sleeping the night after Boba was cleared.
It meant when he woke up his ad'ika was not in their rooms.
Jango sighed.
Grabbing his belt with a blaster and knife, he left without putting on his armour.
Walking around the cells and training rooms, Jango didn't often feel that he deserved his Beskar.
Self-loathing aside, he was able to find Boba easily enough.
Jango had fought tooth and nail to get the Kaminoans to let the children sleep together on matted floors rather than bunks.
At least for their early developmental years.
After so many of the clones had failed performance tests from psychological issues, they had finally allowed it.
The oldest ade, still showed the trauma which was apparent in their reluctance to get attached to the younger clones.
Fair considering there were less than thirty of the oldest generations when originally there had been born a few hundred.
So it was with shock that when Jango looked into the sleeping room where the eldest clones, the CCs, and a handful of CTs —who Jango had personally tapped— slept, he heard and saw what he did.
The sleeper rooms only had one viewing panel by the entrance, which was only accessible through a maintenance closest.
Another thing Jango had pushed for, while none of the ade had real privacy, they could at least have the illusion of it at night.
And knowing his clones enjoyed cuddling as much as he did, it was still odd to see them all piled on each other surrounding Boba.
The ade were too young to hate Boba yet, but Jango knew that one day they would learn to when Boba wasn't forced through the same training, when he remained slow ageing, when he was allowed to call the Prime Buir and they weren't.
The last was cruelty, but no crueller than anything else in this cursed fate they were all trapped in.
Maybe, only maybe, if he could assure the others' safety, he would trade Boba's life for theirs and fall on his sword afterwards.
But there were no such guarantees and he would not trade Boba's life for a mass suicide effort.
He would train them for war, and if they won, the Republic would be forced to give them citizenship.
"You're lying!" Alpha-17 yelled, but his eyes were wide with shock, not anger.
Jango pulled his head out of his shebs to listen to them.
Boba was talking animatedly, "No, it happened! He showed me the pearl and everything!"
Jango frowned at that. A pearl? They had been to Tatooine, so did he mean a Krayt dragon's pearl? Jango didn't remember telling him any stories about the Krayts. Mainly because he didn't want to encourage him into thinking getting pearls —which were found inside of a Krayt's belly— was a good idea.
But Boba continued, "It was the biggest dragon, the great one!" Then Boba's voice dropped and he said in a dramatic whisper-not-whisper, "And then it ate him!"
Bly snorted, "Then he's dead."
"He's not dead if he were a Mandalorian," Cody said, face serious for a boy his age.
Rex, one of the youngest present and Cody's ever-present shadow, said, "That's right. The Prime said the only way to kill something like that—" his voice changed to a perfect mimic of Jango's accent. "You have to kill it from the inside."
It was a reminder that though all the clones spoke Mando'a, aside from the Nulls who trained separately from the rest, the clones —even this young— chose not to have Jango's accent.
Boba threw up his arms in victory, "That's what he did!"
"Badass," Wolffe said with a giant grin.
Boba's smile could have lit the darkest corner of space, "It gets cooler."
Waxer hugged Boil from behind, "What's cooler!?"
Ponds, who was Cody's twin vod, crossed his arms and asked, "Nothing is cooler than besting a Greater Krayt Dragon."
Boba grinned and said like someone who knew the gravitas, "Obi-Wan Kenobi is a Mandalorian and a Jetii."
Every boy in earshot froze.
It was Ponds asked in a broken voice, his tone bleeding with hope, envy, and fear, "You met a Jetii?"
Jango shut his eyes feeling the full weight of his mistakes. He had helped born these children into the galaxy.
And he had sold them all to the Jedi.
It took nearly a month to travel between Serreno and Coruscant, the ship he took small enough that he had needed to stop for fuel thrice.
He thought, on his own, it would be enough time to prepare.
It wasn't.
Hells, he couldn't even rightly remember what year he was in or what all had happened up to now and what would have happened after.
He landed Dooku's ship in the underground, and sold it to a mechanic who promised to wash the ship of any tracking devices. Obi-Wan pocketed the credits, a substantial amount —more than he had ever personally had in life probably. He would need it, what with his plans to act outside the Order's supervision.
Obi-Wan would tell his grandmaster that his ship had been stolen from the Temple. Not only would Dooku believe it, but Obi-Wan was half certain he could convince Mace of it and maybe they would let him help redesign the Temple's security measures.
All plotting and planning flew off into the cosmos when he came to the steps of the Temple.
Horror gripped him, and the sunlight seemed to cast the building into shadows. As if the light existed only to prove the depth of each shadowed crevice.
Obi-Wan felt like he was walking into a mausoleum. He kept his hood up because he didn't want anyone to see his expression.
He doubted anyone would recognize his Force presence at least.
He just needed to make it back to his room, make some tea and prayer to the Force he would have time to compose himself before meeting Anakin.
He clung to the thought of tea, trying to hold back the flash images of bodies that had been lane over the stones he now passed over.
He just needed to get to his rooms and then—
His hopes were dashed when a wall of muscle grabbed him.
Obi-Wan panicked, and he almost attacked the man until he looked up and met a familiar pair of brown eyes.
It was Quin.
His Quin.
"Obi-Wan," Quin said, cupping his face in his large hands.
Quin shoved at Obi-Wan's shields, but Obi-Wan didn't dare open up to him. He wouldn't share the nightmares, wouldn't let him see how their home had become defiled.
"Where have you been?" Quin demanded.
Obi-Wan could only shake his head.
Quin continued to instigate him, and when he still couldn't answer, Quin grabbed his wrist.
Obi-Wan stumbled as Quin dragged him through the halls.
It was all he could do to keep his shields high and his bile down as he relived coming across every body he had seen when last he had walked these halls.
He couldn't let Quin see, he would make him know that.
Memory was so much more powerful than a shared vision.
But when Quin walked him into the middle of the Council room, Obi-Wan almost lost his tenacious grip on reality.
If look you do, only pain will you find.
I must know.
Obi-Wan stared, at where it had happened, where hope had died and all trust had been lost beyond recovery.
He saw the youngling, a boy not much younger than the child Obi-Wan had first met on Tatooine.
Qui-Gon's Chosen One.
The one meant to save the Jedi from their decline.
The youngling stood, the others following him out from hiding as they thought help and safety had arrived. The Hero With No Fear had come to guide them.
Save them
Master Skywalker, there are too many of them, what are we going to do?
Obi-Wan wished for death, wished for it all to end because, this was evil, unforgivable, and entirely his fault.
His fault.
There was no description, no word in any language in existence to describe the pain of it.
Mace stopped speaking as Quinlan dragged someone into the room.
"This a Council meeting—" Mace began then choked himself. "Obi-Wan?"
It was Obi-Wan, in slim-fitting white tunics and rich grey-near black outer robe, replacing his typical beiges and browns.
Shocked joy filled Mace and he wanted to celebrate.
You're alive!
But then Mace saw the shatter points, like imploding stars fall around them as Obi-Wan froze.
All the blood drained from his face as he stared at the floor at Mace's feet.
The torment on his expression was indescribable, and Mace looked at the floor himself, looking for whatever it was, but all he saw was his own reflection on the polished marble.
"Obi-Wan?" he asked cautiously.
Something was wrong, very wrong, the shatter points faded from sight as if they had never been, as if no one but Quinlan stood before them.
Obi-Wan remained motionless, his breath worryingly shallow.
Quin tried, "Obi-Wan?"
Mace rose from his seat slowly, "Obi-Wan."
Obi-Wan's eyes fluttered, before grey stormy eyes refocused, staring at Mace as if he were the one who had come back from the dead.
"Mace?"
Mace nodded, "Yes, Obi-Wan, it's me. You're in the Council room."
Obi-Wan yanked his hand out of Quinlan's, snarling, "Let go of me. What the in hells is wrong with you?"
"Wrong with me? You're the one who died," Quin said, looking hurt by Obi-Wan's anger.
Obi-Wan's expression went passive and his voice went painfully dry as he said, "Clearly, you were mistaken."
"We felt you die, Obi-Wan," Mace defended
"Was there a body?" Obi-Wan asked.
"No, there wasn't a body you disappeared!" Quin yelled.
Obi-Wan scoffed, "What proof is that?"
Mace's brows rose at how callousness of his tone.
Mace wasn't alone in how to respond.
"What exactly happened?" Obi-Wan asked, seeming deceivingly unflustered.
Mace felt his gaze narrow, "You disappeared. As if you had demineralized into the Force."
Obi-Wan put a thoughtful hand to his beard, "Fascinating."
"No," Quinlan said sharply. "Not 'fascinating.' You died."
Obi-Wan gave him a flat look and drawled, "So you've said. However, Quinlan, I assure you that I did not die."
"Then what the hell happened!?" Quinlan shouted.
Obi-Wan hummed, taking his sweet time before answering, "A Force technique Qui-Gon taught me once. But don't worry, I don't think I could replicate it if I tried."
The rest of the Council remained speechless at this, even Master Yoda didn't seem to know how to respond to this.
Mace wanted to shake Obi-Wan, but knew that under those impressive shields there was a storm brewing.
He might not be able to sense it, but he could see it well enough in those grey eyes.
Mace asked conversationally, "Where did you go?"
Obi-Wan hummed before giving the answer Mace least expected, "I went to Serreno."
"Serreno?" Yoda asked, ears dipping in concern.
Mace gritted his teeth, "Why?"
Obi-Wan looked surprised that anyone would ask such a thing, "Surely it is not so odd for me to seek advice from my grandmaster."
No, that wasn't odd, however, Dooku was one of exactly twenty Masters who had voluntarily left the Order.
"You don't know him," Mace pressed.
Obi-Wan raised a brow, "It was an introduction long overdue, don't you think?"
There was another silence at that.
"What advice did he give you?" Ki-Adi Mundi asked finally.
Obi-Wan shrugged, "I admit we went a bit off topic."
"What topic?" Mace asked.
Obi-Wan's gaze was unreadable as he dodged the initial question, "Mandalore, mainly, and their history and our history with them. I admit, I'm surprised Dooku stayed in the Order as long as he did, now that I've heard everything that happened on Galidraan."
Mace flinched.
That had not been a proud moment for the Jedi.
"Can we go back to you disappearing?" Quin asked.
Obi-Wan sighed as if put upon, "I don't much see the point, it can't be undone nor —as far as I know— redone."
"We torched your lightsaber," Quin pocked, stepping closer.
Obi-Wan didn't seem in the least bothered by this, "Fortuitous that I came into possession of another kyber crystal then."
"I actually despise you right now, Kenobi," Quin said, frowning at him with more concern than anger.
Obi-Wan remained straight-faced as he remarked, "It may or may not pass."
Quin gave him a flat look.
Turning back to the Council, Obi-Wan asked, "I have a request regarding Anakin's training."
Plo spoke up then, "Your Padawan has grieved you dearly."
Obi-Wan blinked, "Has another Master chosen him."
"Not yet," Plo said, but the way he said it…
It was implied that Obi-Wan may not find himself easily accepted back.
At this point, Mace thought it fifty-fifty whether Anakin would try becoming a creche Master, an insanely hard thing to do starting so young, or join the ExplorCorps with Geran.
Mace did not know what the Padawan would do now that his original Master had returned from the grave.
Obi-Wan nodded, "I understand, but if Anakin does wish to continue training with me, I have a request."
"Ask," Plo said before anyone else could speak.
"I think the age difference between us has made it difficult for Anakin to check his competitive nature. I was much the same at his age, but with my peers, not with Qui-Gon. I would appreciate more help with individual lightsaber training for Anakin. I have much to teach him, lightsaber-wielding is something others might be better suited to guide him in."
It was an odd request but not one without merit. Still, Mace couldn't help but remark, "You are one of our finest duelists, Obi-Wan. Your duel against a Sith Lord is testament to that."
"Yes," Obi-Wan said so drily it was hard to hear. "I proved myself an excellent killer but that is not what Anakin needs."
Mace opened his mouth then closed it, he didn't know what to say to that, to say to his tone.
"Obi-Wan," Plo said. "Is that how you see yourself?"
"It's why you Knighted me, did you not? For killing Maul, not for passing the trials."
"Obi-Wan," Depa chided. "You could have passed the trails after your mission on Mandalore. It was your self-confidence, independent of whatever Qui-Gon did or said, that was what held this Council back from recommending you."
Obi-Wan said nothing to that, and Mace could not read him.
"I can train Anakin," Mace offered. "He has the power to sustain Vaapad if he wishes to learn it. Depa and I have already been working with him in your absence."
True emotion flashed in Obi-Wan's eyes though it was too quick for Mace to read it, "And the animosity between you?"
Force, it was like talking to Qui-Gon, no, it was like talking to Dooku.
Mace felt uneasy that the two had met. But he at least had positive news to share for once. "We did not leave the youngling to his own devices. Anakin and I have tea every evening along with Master Ali-Alann."
"Thank you," Obi-Wan said, his voice more his own.
"You may not feel obligated to tell us why you left, but Anakin is owed one," Mace said.
"That does not require an audience," Obi-Wan said before bowing. "May the Force be with you."
And without further ado, he dismissed himself.
Mace was too stunned to call him back as he watched the young Knight retreat without so much as a backward glance.
Yoda sighed, "Much changed has he."
"He's wounded," Depa said, she didn't mean physically.
"Careful of him, we must be. Left the Order has Obi-Wan done before," Yoda said.
Mace shivered, that would be bad. He didn't know why but it would be bad; for all of them.
Quin scoffed, "Obi-Wan is a Jedi through and through, I don't know why anyone ever doubted that. Even Melida/Daan, he was just being a better Jedi than Qui-Gon."
No one answered that.
Mace found himself more concerned with the look Obi-Wan had given the floor.
As though he were watching the galaxy burn before his eyes and was helpless to stop it.
Obi-Wan was not well.
Mace could not begin to imagine what ancient technique Qui-Gon had taught him that would result in his physical disappearance into the Force.
Nor what would send him running to Dooku —of all people— for help.
But it did not bode well.
Obi-Wan tried to pull himself together.
But the more he tried, the harder it became to breathe.
And he couldn't feel his legs entirely.
He wasn't ready to face Anakin, wasn't ready to let Anakin see him like this.
When he came to the hall of his old rooms, he faulted.
He turned left, down the opposite hall where Masters without Padawans resided.
Rael Aveross, Dooku's first apprentice, wasn't likely to be home, he rarely was. Obi-Wan had learned long ago that of his lineage, Rael was less reliable than Dooku; even after he learned Dooku was a Sith.
But Obi-Wan didn't need Rael, he needed his contraband.
The only time a Jedi's room was locked was when they wanted to be left alone.
Rael wasn't home.
So his door was open and, happy day, his shelves were stocked.
He didn't touch the hard drugs, he did, however, take six heavy prescription sleeping pills and followed it with a bottle of rum.
It wasn't a large bottle, but it looked expensive and he didn't stop drinking until it was empty.
His insides felt warm and his head felt heavy as an anvil and as light as a balloon all at once.
This was not a safe nor healthy idea, but his body had survived worse.
He staggered his way to the wall behind the sofa, even unconscious, his shields would hold. If anyone thought to check for him here —they probably wouldn't— they weren't likely to find him.
His back hit the wall and he sank down to the floor.
His head was spinning, and yet sleep was a long time coming.
He had cried before of course, but he hadn't been here, hadn't let himself remember how things had been before the war when the Temple had been safe; a refuge.
He no longer found peace here, just sorrow at what had happened and might befall them again.
He tried to picture his hut on Tatooine, his prison, tried to remember the loneliness when crying had not mattered because there had been no one who might relieve it.
He was meant to let go, meant to accept.
Remember your failure.
Remember and let go of the emotion.
But he couldn't, because with every remembered joy of rediscovery, every smiling face, he remembered the loss of them.
Loss; like the prongs of a whip snagging on already torn skin.
It was too much.
He needed help, but it would kill him to make anyone of kin feel like this, to share this ugliness with them.
It had driven Sifo-Dyas mad and it had pushed Dooku to betrayal.
He had no one to aid because there was no one he wished to harm so deeply. He didn't even have Qui-Gon now save for their bond whose translucent iridescence made him feel ever more lost and disconnected.
A sound rose in his throat and he curled in around himself.
Obi-Wan fought it, balling his hands in the fabric of his robes till his muscles protested in sharp spikes, yet still, he bore down.
If he cried now, he might never stop.
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