Chapter Text
Fear is unbecoming of a Jedi, Obi-Wan silently chides in himself. One cannot let fear or anger overrule all rationale and so he lets it fade into the Force with sigh that hitched in his chest.
Still, it is buckets tossed into the ocean as the now green planet gets larger and larger, its history one he should’ve learned behind a desk but had lived through in its last bloody dregs. His eyes roam the land below them, now soaring over regrowing forests and healing meadows, past wrecks retaken by nature and the new city nestled in a crown of stone mountains with snow capped peaks.
Shaa’s voice rings over the comms, her blue visage appearing for them all, hands folded across her abdomen with grace. She gives them a kind smile that he does his best to let beat down the conflict growing in his chest.
“Master Jedi, I have informed them of our arrival and we’re instructed to dock on platform B-3, if you’d follow my ship we’ll be there in less than a minute.”
Master Plo nodded, expression nigh unreadable under his mask. “Thank you Lady Shaa, we’ll see you when we land.”
The soft glow of the blue lights faded as she bowed her goodbyes.
Idly, he felt Commander Wolffe come to stand by him yet again, settling in a relaxed parade rest as he did so. He let the silence stew a bit more between them before breaking it.
“Never thought I’d be here again…” He muttered, taking in the clean streets and strolling citizens he could see.
“Really?”
He nodded, still entranced with the domesticity, though he didn’t allow himself to be fooled by Melida-Da… Melidaans’ new facade. His eyes follow paroles that line the city’s walls and sidewalks, keeping the peace perhaps. “Many things have changed.” Tracking still, he spots buildings that choke the breath out of him. Hiding, running, shooting and ducking behind them. The images rise and fade within a second. “Still, there are some things that have stayed the same I suppose.”
From the corner of his eye, he watched the Commander wince if only slightly before releasing the tension in his shoulders with a sigh. The slight turmoil (and maybe some guilt if he looks close enough) that surrounded him in the Force barely bodes well in soldiers. Well, it would if Obi-Wan didn’t have an idea of what he might feel turmoil over. The Commander knew. In fact, they all seemed to know what connections he had to such a planet.
A part of him recoiled at such a private part of his life being known by comparable strangers- at least by his point of view- but he could hardly fault them for knowing or being told. Still, it could be funny if he didn’t say that he knew that he knew that they knew… that train of thought was confusing. Never mind.
Is it possible to get tongue twisted in your own thoughts?
He let that run through his mind with some amusement before tuning back in as he felt the engines shudder in the tell-tale sign of their landing procedures taking place.
Commander Wolffe placed a steady hand on his shoulder, radiating warmth even through his rough gloves. “Come on verd’ika, we’d best join the Generals.”
Letting the touch ground him, he nodded. “Of course Commander, let’s not keep them waiting.” He fell into step beside him, equal parts dread and excitement coursing through his veins.
He let himself sink into the Force, the power of the stars and the place beyond them singing a harmony in his bones, offering comfort that soothed a part of his soul. Though, it seemed to fuel his excitement as well, which he quelled slightly if only to stop either the surely goofy grin from appearing on his face, or what could have been the urge to run from where they were going.
Master Plo greeted them in the hangars, Wolffe already a steady shadow to his left as he left his side.
For a moment Obi-Wan was struck cold with a sharp familiarity. Perhaps not in this exact conformity, but something remarkably similar.
It was reminiscent of how he had once stood by Master Qui-Gon. Master and Apprentice. Once upon a time those titles felt so warm, so safe. It hadn't felt that safe in a while.
He swallowed around the boulder that seemed lodged in his throat and steeled himself, feeling the ship touch ground in the docking area. The other troops formed ranks around their General and first Commander, himself coming into step at Master Plo’s other side as the doors opened slowly.
Light spilled through, almost blinding in its intensity from the slightly dull interior to the bright midday sun.
Just outside, he could already see Master Skywalker’s troops introducing themselves to a welcoming committee of sorts, Lady Shaa at his side with a beaming smile as her own people were greeted and offered rest and food, already being shown their quarters. There were too many faces and bodies that blurred together. He couldn't seem to recognize anyone. Not yet.
He gulped. If he wanted to see them, see if perhaps anyone he knew was there, he’d have to step out.
… He’d have to step out.
The task seemed daunting.
Fear is unbecoming of a Jedi, Obi-Wan thought, though it did not make the fear abate.
“Padawan.” Master Plo did not question, did not demand. All the Master did was place metal tipped claws on his shoulder. Unspoken as it was, the comfort rang through the Force.
He inhaled.
Exhaled.
He nodded and brought his shoulders back, jutting out his chin defiantly (against what he didn’t know, perhaps himself) and steadied his trembling hands. “Master.”
Resolute, he began to take the first step.
In a different life, Obi-Wan would have stayed.
In a different life, Cerasi wouldn’t have been shot.
In a different life, maybe they never would’ve had a war in the first place.
Nield lowered his head in his hands, rubbing away at his forehead as though that could stave away the headache beginning to form.
Lady Shaa of Zhar, one of the more recent planets ransacked by the Separatists, had contacted them, asking for sanctuary in a galaxy where war was commonplace.
He scoffed, glancing to the window that overlooked most of the city.
War was always commonplace in a galaxy as large as this one. Perhaps not one one this scale though. Not in recent years at least.
“Third chair, if I may interrupt?”
He sighed and glanced towards his office door where Laerr stood at their post. Though, for a fraction of a second, it was not a guard that stood there but a small child with a relic of a shotgun held in trembling, too small hands come to tell him that they had been discovered, or that there were barely any rations left, or maybe that they had found the perfect place to rest and heal their sick and wounded. For a fraction of a second, Nield felt 14 years old again.
That second faded and now it was Laerr, grown and healthy, that stood at his door. He bid them to speak.
“Several ships have entered our planet’s atmosphere. Two Venator-class Star Destroyers and three more CR90 Corvettes. They line up with what we’re expecting. Would you like to join us as we welcome them?” They asked. Surely though, they knew the answer.
He glanced out the window. It was a nice day outside. A cool breeze often drifted through the crown from the mountain peaks as the bright sun warmed their skin, the scent of wildflowers and the salt water of nearby oceans wafting through the air as long as you stepped out long enough to enjoy it. He hardly ever got to enjoy nice days such as this.
Taking the silence for hesitance, Laerr spoke again, though there was a tremor of excitement that he had not heard in a while to their tone as they did.
“There are Jedi onboard the Star Destroyers, Third Chair.” His eyes snapped to them in an instant. Emboldened by the curiosity and well-meaning shock in his eyes, they continued. “The officer on the bridge mentioned a General Skywalker.”
They both knew what that meant and if that didn’t send a rush of dizzying adrenaline through his veins then he didn’t know what would.
Nield stood immediately, a fool’s grin on his face from the sudden aching joy he could feel budding in his heart.
“Then, if you don’t mind Laerr, I think I will join you outside. It’s a nice day anyway, it would be a shame to waste it.”
They chuckled and followed his footsteps, ever the faithful guard. “As you insist, sir.”
In a different life… maybe him, Cerasi, and Obi-Wan would have never met.
Nield is almost glad it wasn’t a different life.
Stepping onto the dock, Obi-Wan does not know who freezes first. Himself, or the adult with dark brown hair and warm honey eyes that he had known when the other was a boy and had held weapons like it was an extension of himself.
For a moment, they do not stand across from one another, but on a smoking field of dying children, side by side. They stand on a hill, green but dying, as the sun peeks through low gray clouds. They stand in front of a grave and memorial, hand in hand, mourning the loss of a friend. They stand together.
He blinks and now they are separated only by a few feet. Face to face.
Nield blinks, pale and shocked but most of all, disbelieving.
Obi-Wan is a Jedi and a soldier, it is not in his blood to be so distracted. Yet, he cannot bring himself to pay attention to his surroundings when they both rush towards each other with the hurriedness of a blaster shot.
Nield chokes back a sob and brings him close, tucking his face into the crook of his shoulder before hunching in around him, as though he could protect him like they did for each other when bombs dropped and tremors shook the land. The wide sleeves of his formal clothes do not show it, but Obi-Wan feels his fingers tremble where they clutch his own robes. He cannot blame him for his shakiness, he feels his own knees go weak and he holds on tighter to the back of his old friend's shirt.
For a while they hold each other there, the both of them, remembering a lifetime’s worth of memories and moments where they had no one but each other and Cerasi.
It is an infinity in only a few more seconds before they step away, both with teary eyes. They do not let go.
Nield breaks the silence with choked laughter, cheeks rosy with the effort of holding back more tears. “Little gods, I think you might’ve shrunk a bit Ben.”
He tosses his head back, his own laugh a touch hysterical. “Like you can say anything, is that a streak of white I see old man?” His own words waver, throat tight and choked.
The hand still around his shoulder gives him a playful shake. “Hey, you gotta respect your elders.”
“Oh?” He raises a brow and makes a show of rifling through his sleeves and pockets, letting the humor wash over him and to steady his shaking hands. “Seems I’ve misplaced that, ah, wait, I’ve got something here.” He mimes taking something from a pocket and bringing it up to Nield’s face, only to flip him off which only brings forth a squeaking laugh that’s abruptly cut with a wavering, choked sob.
They're crying again. It'd be embarrassing but he can't find in himself an inch that cares.
The Force floods with excitement, with happiness, and the love that swirls around them threatens to drown everyone else in its weight.
They embrace each other, again, and mumble into their ears.
“I’ve missed you.”
Nield pulls away, eyes so full of fondness that it’s enough to bring back a fresh wave of tears to his own eyes. And again, “I’ve missed you.”
“As have I.” He shakes his head, as though that’d get rid of all the things he never got to say that seemed to stick to the back of his throat. He opens his mouth to speak- swallows- and tries again. “I never meant to go so far from you.”
“Yeah well,” Nield sniffs, hastily wiping the tear tracks left on face. “You’ve always had that Force forsaken habit of always jumping ahead.”
“I don’t suppose my older self has managed to ween off said habit?”
Captain Rex shouts from the crowd, “not on your life sir!”
Laughter and cheering comes from the sidelines and it’s only then that they remember they have an audience, though that realization is cut short as numerous other bodies seem to enjoy transforming into a speeder to run him over.
“BEN!”
His mouth shuts with a clack and he’s only grateful that he hadn’t been talking or he might’ve bit his own tongue off. Though that thought passes quickly as he takes in just who’s hugging him.
“Laerr! Bruuen! Ah- and Sorelius!” He does his best to wrap his arms around them all, though his short stature does its best to counter it. Instead, he settles for throwing himself back into the mass of bodies and grabbing the arms of whoever was closest. “Ack- careful, that’s my toes!”
Laughter rings around them, only slightly tearful when they hold him and each other close.
Laerr huffs and sets him down and grins. “Nield’s right, you’ve shrunk.”
“Let me be! I was just spat out of time you know!” They let out a full belly laugh and go back to trying to send him to an early grave by smothering him.
“Aw, don’t worry about them. I think you’ve grown an inch or two.” Sorelius says with faux seriousness and he is glad to see the twinkle of mischievousness in her eyes hasn't faded a bit since he last saw her.
Suddenly feeling teary eyed (again), Obi-Wan can only shake his head and tease, “I see you’ve never managed to school your face enough for Sabaak.”
“You should see her try and chug a mixed drink!” Bruuen chimes in, “like giving a baby a slice of lemon!”
“I do not look like that!”
Obi-Wan pursed his lips, a wave of emotion suddenly knocking him over head over heels. He gave no warning before he gathered them and Nield together with the Force and held onto them as tightly as he could, willing the wetness from his eyes as he pressed his face into what was possibly Nield's or Bruuen's chest. Thankfully, they said nothing of it and embraced him just as tightly, shoulders and breath hitching occasionally that gave away just how much they were as desperate for this as he was.
Pressed against his old friends who had built a society teeming with life from a desolate planet of war they had won together, he let himself hope for a moment that the future wasn’t so steeped in darkness as he had feared the moment he had woken on that ship those weeks ago. He let himself hope and gathered it in his sternum, in his lungs, in his heart, and he hoped for a life he wasn't sure he knew what to do with.
But he knew he wanted to live it.