This is the sequel to my story 'Just A Little While Longer', so make sure to read that one first!

Obi-Wan dragged himself out of the council chamber, pushing out an exhausted breath as the doors closed behind him.

Supporting himself on his crutches, he hopped over to one of the many benches in front of the large windows and sat down, grimacing as his leg made itself known.

The words of his fellow council members still echoed in his ears.

"We can't protect you, Obi-Wan."

"You may have to answer to the Senate."

"If Mandalore decides to persue you, you're on your own."

You damn cowards.

Their decision weighed heavily on him and he didn't know how to deal with it.

After all, I offered Satine this deal.

The Duchess had waited four days after his departure before making her official statement to her people - claiming that he had killed Viszla and his men.

Obi-Wan knew that the target on his back had increased immensely. Not all members of Death Watch were dead. It was only a matter of time before they sought revenge on him.

To reclaim the darksaber.

A shiver ran down his spine at that thought. The last ten days had not improved his health much. His skin pulled and burned with every move he made, even though the healers had done their best with the skin grafts.

The carved letters on his chest were still there - and they haunted his nightmares.

JEDI SCUM.

Master Che had privately suggested that he visit a mind healer. Of course, Obi-Wan had never done so. Whether it was out of pride or shame, he couldn't say.

They had released him from the Halls of Healing last night, knowing that he would find more peace in his own four walls.

Then this morning the emergency notification from the Council had arrived. Only with great difficulty had he been able to convince Anakin that he did not have to accompany him. He knew that his friend only meant well, but sometimes - sometimes it was just too much for him.

Obi-Wan ran a hand through his hair, taking a deep breath. When he took it back down, he let his gaze linger on the back of his hand, eyeing the reddened and scarred skin. Experimentally, he tightened his fingers, hissing as a sharp pain shot through his limb.

"Master Obi-Wan?" a voice snapped him out of his thoughts and when he looked up, he realized that Ahsoka was standing in front of him.

He lowered his hand and forced a shallow smile onto his face. „Hello Padawan."

The girl's eyes briefly drifted to his hands before she looked worriedly into his face. "Is everything okay?"

Obi-Wan huffed. "Did Anakin send you?" he evaded the question.

He knew what he must look like. His robes hung loose from his frame, he was pale and couldn't even walk properly.

"I... no," Ahsoka stumbled over her words, suddenly looking nervous.

This had not been his intention. Expression softening, Obi-Wan dropped his shoulders. "Apologies, Ahsoka. I didn't mean it that way," he returned, ashamed of his own behavior.

The Padawan relaxed a little again. "No harm done, Master," Ahsoka replied, "...were you on your way home?"

At least I tried to.

Nodding, Obi-Wan tipped his head in the direction of the Council chamber. "The meeting just ended," he acknowledged, before letting his gaze wander to his splinted leg, "...now I am just resting my foot for a moment, to be honest."

He leaned back on the bench, now looking at the girl in front of him. "Was there something you needed?"

Ahsoka settled down next to him. "I thought you might enjoy some company," she offered quietly.

„Oh," the noise slipped from his mouth ohne dass er es wollte, „I… thank you, dear."

The girl gave him a small smile but it quickly disappeared again. "Can I speak openly, Master?"

Did I scare her somehow?

"Of course, Ahsoka," he replied softly.

He watched how the Padawan nervously fiddled with her fingers, deciding not to comment on it. "You've been different since Mandalore...," Ahsoka eventually blurted out, catching him off-guard, "Like... like you are not really here."

What was he supposed to say? He could barely sleep. The darkness constantly crept up to him. The sudden feeling of being trapped. Sometimes he turned around at random, thinking he had spotted the black glow of the darksaber.

"I'm just exhausted," Obi-Wan evaded, hoping Ahsoka would let go.

She did not.

"Are you talking with someone?"

It would be so easy to lie. But he knew it wouldn't be fair.

"No," he admitted, his fingers curling up, "...I need more time."

His broken leg twitched painfully and involuntarily one of his hands shot forward, gripping his thigh.

Ahsoka watched him move with keen eyes, gaze wandering from his face over his scarred hands to his broken leg. "Are you sure you should be walking already?" she continued, motioning at his trembling hands, "... these look painful."

They are.

„I am not using a wheelchair," he grumbled firmly, letting go of his leg again just to emphasize his point.

His fingers burned.

The girl hummed in response, judging him silently. "... is it true that the Duchess is on her way to Coruscant?"

"Where did you hear that?" Obi-Wan mused, even though he already knew the answer. Ahsoka was too smart for her own good.

"Master Anakin mentioned something...," admitted the girl with a wry smile.

More likely a certain senator.

"Of course he did...," he sighed, shaking his head, "But yes, he's right. She has to plead her case to the Senate. Mandalore's neutrality is at stake."

"They say that fighting the Death Watch is to become a Republic affair... and that your intervention makes Jedi involvement inevitable."

"I acted in self-defense," he returned, continuing to knit his web of lies, "This has nothing to do with the Jedi..."

A black blade inched closer to his body.

Ahsoka eyed him with a frown. "Master?"

The smell of burning flesh.

"Huh?" he blinked as his thoughts returned to the present.

"You didn't kill Viszla, did you?" she whispered.

Obi-Wan froze, tightening his mental shields, and let his eyes settle onto the corridor. "This is not the place to be having this conversation, Padawan."

Nervousness flashed through the Force. "Right, sorry. I...," Ahsoka stumbled over her words.

Why could things never be simple?

Holding his breath, he pushed himself up, taking a moment to steady himself on his crutches. "Come on, let's get back to our quarters. Then we can talk."

He started walking without waiting, knowing the teenager would follow him.

Ahsoka was immediately beside him. "Actually... Master suggested we have lunch together. Would you like to join?"

He wasn't hungry. He hadn't been since he'd returned from Mandalore. He had somehow forced down the meals in the Halls of Healing, only to choke them back up a few hours later - when no one was watching.

Food somehow made him sick.

So far, he had somehow managed to hide this from Anakin and Ahsoka.

"I'm afraid I still have to take care of the reports from my last mission, but thank you for the offer." He continued to hobble forward, but Ahsoka strode in front of him, a pout on her face.

"Oh come on, Master. We see far too little of each other. You know as well as I do that they'll be sending us out again soon. So, please."

How could I say no?

It tugged at his heart - the knowledge that she was right. He should make the most of the time he had left.

"Alright," he finally gave in, smiling softly at her, "Lead the way."

Ahsoka's eyes lit up as she fell into step beside him, and for a moment Obi-Wan pushed back his worries, wanting to give his grandpadawan this moment of respite.

They walked - or rather limped - back to their quarters and by the time they arrived Obi-Wan wished he had taken the wheelchair. Not that he let on. He hid his discomfort behind a stony expression, careful to disguise his Force signature so that the padawan next to him wouldn't notice.

The door swung open, revealing a scrutinizing Anakin. His former student said nothing for a moment before shaking his head. "You look like shit, master..."

Obi-Wan snorted and raised an eyebrow. "Still charming like a rancor, I see."

Anakin finally stepped aside, beckoning them in. "Just sit down, Obi-Wan...," he said, now more concerned than jokingly, "...you look like you're going to keel over any second."

He shot his friend a quick scowl. Why do you have to do this in front of Ahsoka?

But eventually he hobbled over to the kitchen table anyway, sitting down on one of the chairs.

"I got us some food from Dex," Anakin announced, putting the bag on the table between them while Ahsoka disappeared into the kitchen to get plates and cutlery.

His Padawan took out the boxes and turned to him. "I got you your favorite food. Nerf burger...," he pointed briefly to the small box, but then also took out another bowl, which he pushed towards him, "But Dex also had a soup, if it's more to your liking... said it's easy on the stomach."

Obi-Wan glanced first at the food and then up at Anakin with a questioning look.

"I'm not blind," the man whispered, holding his gaze steadily.

Humming, Obi-Wan grabbed the soup even though his stomach was already flipping at the thought. "... thank you," he breathed back.

At that moment, Ahsoka returned, placing the plates on the table and taking the last empty seat. Her eyes found the bowl of soup in front of him. "You're not eating the burger?"

"Just trying something new today," Obi-Wan grimaced with a forced smile, looking at his blurry reflection in the soup.

His eyes were sunken and red-rimmed - they looked almost lifeless.

He wished he could rest for even one night.

"What did the Council say?" Anakin finally asked, claiming a portion of nuna fries.

Obi-Wan huffed, stirring the soup with his spoon so that this stranger was no longer staring at him. "I'm sure you already know that," he murmured.

"So it's true? The Republic wants to intervene in Mandalore?"

"Yes...," Obi-Wan forced out, putting his spoon down again, "The Duchess is on her way here to avert this."

"And what are you going to do?"

Evil eyes. A malicious grin.

"I must make the Senate understand that I killed Viszla in self-defense," he replied absently, staring ahead of him.

The sudden urge to prepare himself overcame him and he jumped awkwardly to his feet, hastily reaching for his crutches. "I... I need to go, sorry."

He didn't know where, but he needed to leave. Now.

"Obi-Wan!" Anakin called after him, but by then he had already made it out the door, hurrying down the corridor as fast as his leg would allow. There was a loud buzzing noise in his ears that tried to disorient him.

"Obi-Wan," there was a sudden voice right next to him and a hand landed on his shoulder, turning him around.

Instinct took over. His left hand clenched into a fist as he spun, and though part of him recognized his Padawan's face, most of him was busy fighting back.

Anakin sidestepped his sloppy attack and Obi-Wan lost his balance as his arm sailed past his target, trying to catch himself with his plastered leg. But the broken limb found no purchase, slipping on the smooth floor and sending him sailing towards the ground.

His friend luckily caught him before he could hurt himself, hooking his arms under his shoulders and pulling him against his chest. His crutches fell to the ground with a loud clatter.

Heaving for a breath, Obi-Wan stared down the hallway, realizing to his relief that they were alone.

Everything hurt. His leg. The spot where Anakin's hands had latched onto his body and was being pressed against the chest behind him.

"Calm down," Anakin spoke soothingly, still holding him up, "I'm not going to hurt you."

"Let me go," he choked out, writhing in his friend's grasp. Panic wanted to take control.

"Okay, okay...," Anakin responded immediately, probably sensing what was going on and eased him down to the ground, leaning against one of the walls. Then he crouched down a little distance in front of him. "Just try to breathe."

Obi-Wan leaned his head back, squeezing his eyes shut. He hated himself for his weakness. It made him angry.

The cold wall at his back eased some of his discomfort and the searing pain slowly became a dull throb.

"...I'm sorry, Anakin," he finally mumbled, not having it in him to look at his former student, "...I didn't mean to attack you."

Anakin sat down next to him against the wall. "Just forget it. Nothing happened." He pulled the crutches over with the Force, holding them out to him.

His stiff fingers curled around the handles and eased the walking aids onto his lap, eyeing the durasteel contraption with disdain. "Thank you."

"Of course." Obi-Wan turned his head a little, looking at Anakin's silhouette illuminated by the sunlight.

The boy looked older than his 21 years.

War did neither of them any good.

"Is Ahsoka okay?" he inqueried quietly.

"She will understand," Anakin turned his gaze to him, "Don't worry."

I'll always worry about you two.

They stayed like that for a moment, just sitting in silence and basking in each other's presence. Obi-Wan's mind began to wander, contemplating on what could have been.

He could have led a simple life - as a husband and father. Instead, he dragged himself from bloodbath to bloodbath every day, not knowing if he would see the light of the next day.

But this reality had also brought him Anakin and Ahsoka - and he could never regret that, no matter what happened.

It felt like he was caught between two fronts. He wanted to be there for Korkie - his son - but he would also never be able to leave his family here with a clear conscience.

I don't know how to do this.

This war must finally end.

"Should we go back?" he suggested, breaking the silence.

"Sure," Anakin pushed himself to his feet, cracking his back as he did so and stood in front of him, "Shall I help you up?"

"That would be appreciated," Obi-Wan propped his crutches against the wall beside him and then finally held out both his hands.

Anakin's face was pulled into a frown as he took a closer look at the burn scars, but said nothing. Instead, he grasped them with unusual care and slowly pulled him to his feet before offering him the crutches.

His expression remained thoughtful.

"What's wrong?" Obi-Wan decided to ask.

Blinking, Anakin tore his gaze away from his maltreated hands and looked him in the eye instead. "Never mind. It's just...," he faltered and shook his head briefly, "your hands... They just reminded me of my mom's. She burned them quite badly when I was younger."

„Oh," Obi-Wan blurted out, not quite knowing what to say.

Anakin rarely spoke about his mother. A few years ago, they had tried to free her, but by then they had been too late.

Shmi had fallen seriously ill. She had fought for a long time, but in the end she had lacked the strength. Anakin's only consolation had been that she had died a free woman, at the side of a loving husband.

"Do they still hurt?" The question was little more than a whisper, and for a moment Obi-Wan again saw the little boy he had taken under his wing so many years ago.

"They are healing," he offered, which was at least half the truth. His hands would never be the same again, "... Come on, I think I need to rest for a bit."

A bone-deep tiredness had settled into his body and he felt the need for a few hours sleep. Even though he probably wouldn't get any rest.

Anakin eyed him for a moment longer, before beginning to walk towards their apartment. Inside Ahsoka still sat at the kitchen table, even though she had obviously already put the food away in the fridge.

The girl jumped up from her seat as she spotted him.

Obi-Wan limped over to her. "Sorry about what happened, dear," he apologized, "... I- I guess I am just more exhausted than I thought."

Ahsoka's eyes softened and before he could prepare, she had wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug. "It's alright, master," she murmured, her voice muffled as her face was pressed against his chest, "...I just want you to get better."

His heart aching, Obi-Wan lowered his head to Ahsoka's, closing his eyes for a second. "I'll try... I swear, I'll try, Ahsoka."

He hated giving promises that he might not be able to keep.

He slowly pulled out of the embrace and Ahsoka lowered her arms again in response. "I think I am going to catch a few hours of sleep," Obi-Wan pressed his lips into a thin line, his gaze traveling between his two Padawans, "If you need me..."

"Get some rest," Anakin interjected, motioning for Obi-Wan's room, "We'll handle things."

Even though he couldn't quite believe it, Obi-Wan moved to his room, only stopping once more in the doorway. A shallow smile pulled at his lips. "Try not to burn the kitchen down, will you?"

He barely heard the offended exclaims as he let the door slide shut behind him and made his way over to the bed, flopping down on it with all the grace he could muster.

Exhaling a long breath, Obi-Wan shrugged out of his right boot and robes, leaving only the black, sleeveless undershirt. He didn't have enough energy left for the pants, even though he had only been up for a few hours.

He lay back down, resting his head on his thin pillow.

He wanted to sleep, but his mind was racing so much that his head hurt.

And if that wasn't enough, his commlink started beeping, displaying Satine's number with brightly glowing numbers. Obi-Wan blinked at the device before rolling onto his other side, blocking out the constant beeping.

He could not deal with her right now. Not when his demons kept haunting him every waking hour.