Chapter Text
A week of nothing but hyperspace travel really was too good to be true, Cody thought grimly, as he leaned out into the corridor, taking careful aim at the pirates mobbed around the barricade. Oh, maybe other units could spend a week travelling, resting up, running drills, maybe even doing a full inventory of supplies, but the 212 didn’t get to enjoy that sort of boredom. No, they somehow managed to drop out of hyperspace at precisely the right time and place to pick up a distress signal from a decrepit transport, full of war refugees and in the process of being boarded by pirates.
Of course they went after it. What else were they going to do? Leave?
A flash of blue darted over his shoulder, and he saw Obi-Wan deflecting a stray blaster bolt that would otherwise have caught Drifter right in the chest.
“Careful, vod,” he admonished his reckless brother, even as Drifter rolled to the other side of the corridor, taking three more shots in quick succession.
“Don’t worry. I knew the General had my back,” Drifter called back.
Cody clenched his jaw. They were supposed to protect their Jedi, not the other way around. If they took General Kenobi’s skills for granted, what would happen on missions when he wasn’t there?
Somewhere ahead of them a child screamed. Kriff, the pirates had hostages.
“Don’t take unnecessary risks,” Obi-Wan ordered, as he stepped directly out into the corridor. Cody rolled his eyes, knowing it couldn’t be seen, and followed, quickly signing for the rest of the squad to lay down covering fire.
He might not have force-enhanced speed, but he could sprint with the best of them and he stayed only a few steps behind as they raced along the corridor, Obi-Wan deflecting all the blaster fire before it could reach them. They blew through the barricade in a practised dance, Obi-Wan spinning to keep them covered the whole way, Cody staying behind and firing through the gaps, noting with professional satisfaction each pirate who fell, and then they were around the corner, the sounds of battle continuing behind them as they moved up closer to where the scream must have come from.
Obi-Wan smiled at him. “And you complain Drifter has too much faith in me,” he teased.
He wouldn’t be moved. “It’s never a question of faith, sir.” He knew what he was doing, knew Obi-Wan could cover him and knew there was no way on any planet that he was going to let his Jedi run ahead alone if he could keep up.
They moved as one up towards the airlock where the transport was connected to the pirate ship. There were four pirates standing outside, one of them holding onto a small mon calamari child, her eyes wide and terrified as the chakaar held a blaster to her head. On the corridor on the other side Cody caught a glimpse of the ship’s crew, hanging back, obviously reluctant to intervene, as long as the child was in danger.
“That’s far enough, Jedi,” spat the apparent leader, a blaster-waving rodian. Cody estimated it would take less then a second to take him down – if it wasn’t for the hostage.
The sounds of blaster fire from behind them had stopped. He didn’t look round, but he carefully started making hand signs behind his back. It was a strain to hear the quiet footsteps and quieter voices, but he was confident his brothers were there and following his instructions.
“Your orders, General,” he said out loud, and the words were empty, just a code phrase to get Obi-Wan to focus his senses on him for a moment while he loudly asked for a distraction in his head.
Obi-Wan deactivated his lightsabre and stepped forwards, his hands loosely in the air. “Really, I’m curious as to where you’re going with this. You have to know that you are surrounded by the entire Third System Army right now. You can’t possibly think you can escape.”
The rodian snarled. “As long as we have the youngling, we hold all the cards here. You Jedi are weak. You’re not going to risk hurting the wretch.”
“Well, that’s certainly true. Hello, young one,” Obi-Wan added with a broad smile. “Still, is one small child really worth making enemies of the entire Grand Army of the Republic? Wouldn’t, say, a Jedi Master be a better hostage instead?”
Cody gritted his teeth, reminding himself to discuss with his Jedi again exactly what was, and was not, an appropriate distraction.
“You think I’m stupid?” the pirate demanded. “I don’t have force suppressors just lying around, how do I know you wouldn’t just escape and kill us all?”
“You have my word,” Obi-Wan offered. “And I’m sure there’s a lot more of you than there is of me.”
Thankfully at that point a small explosion rocked the ships. That would be The Negotiator disabling the pirate ship’s hyperdrive, just as he’d ordered. And that meant he could step forwards and take four shots while the pirates were distracted, while at the exact same moment Obi-Wan leapt into the air, using the force to pull the little girl towards him and twisting round to put his back between her and any blaster fire.
There was no need; Cody’s aim was good and an instant later all four pirates were on the ground.
“Nicely done, Commander,” Obi-Wan called, standing up and letting the child run off to be snatched up by her waiting parents.
The captain – or maybe the leader of the refugees – came rushing out of the corridor towards them. “Thank you! I thought we were all going to be killed. Oh, Master Jedi, I can’t thank you enough.”
“Of course,” Obi-Wan said, inclining his head, and Cody groaned inwardly, because here came the moment when they offered to take the refugees aboard and get them settled. “My men will make sure your ship is clear then we’ll see you on your way.”
Wait, what?
The woman seemed happy enough with that, calling orders back to her own people, making sure they were safe and the ship was undamaged, but Cody was still disturbed.
“Is there something wrong with them, sir?” he asked in a low voice, later, as they prepared to disembark.
Obi-Wan looked startled. “No. Why would you think that?”
“You’re normally more…” He struggled for the right word. “Helpful,” he settled on at last, cringing at the flash of sadness that crossed Obi-Wan’s face.
“Well, I have been informed that I’m too much of a soft touch,” Obi-Wan said stiffly. “By you, among others, Commander.”
That was true, and he dreaded the day someone took advantage of his Jedi’s compassion, but… “Did something happen, Obi-Wan?”
“Everything’s fine, Cody. Don’t worry about it.”
*
The messages continued and Obi-Wan wasn't quite sure how to react. He grew to dread the moments they dropped out of hyperspace, checking his messages almost obsessively, waiting for that cloying voice.
“...I wish I could take you far away from the war, somewhere your beauty and grace would truly be appreciated...”
“...No one understands me like you do, of course. No one ever could...”
“...You aren't like other people. You're all that matters to me...”
He had to listen. Even though the words felt like spindly fingers creeping down his spine. The messages had been for him the whole time and he felt beyond foolish. Should he have realised from the start? The mystery sender had seemed to be talking to someone he knew well, he hadn't even introduced himself or offered some remembrance of where they might have met, but Obi-Wan didn't recognise the voice at all. It could be disguised, of course, but why would someone he knew well do that?
Who even among those he knew well could he imagine sending those sort of messages? He hadn't had a relationship that could be described as intimate in years.
He tried to meditate on it all, but he found he kept on going around in circles, the force murky and uncertain. Tiredly, he reached up and rubbed at his beard. Alright. Think this through. The sender had his personal comm codes. He knew him well enough to send him holo images that he enjoyed. He spoke as if they had spent time together before and would do so again. He spoke possessively and felt entitled to use a nickname that hardly anyone called him by.
Put like that it had to be someone he knew at least a little. Definitely not a clone. Surely not another Jedi. But he did meet a lot of people...
His comm codes should narrow it down, but unfortunately he had to admit to himself that those might be more widely available than they should be. The number of times he had given his contact details to someone he'd helped, promising that he'd be there for anything they needed in the future – well, he certainly hadn't been counting. Anakin had always scolded him for it, rolling his eyes in exasperation and warning him that some day someone was going to get the wrong idea, or take advantage of him.
Getting the wrong idea...force, he hoped not. But that was the most likely explanation here. He had often been accused of flirting – mostly by Anakin – and to be fair, sometimes he was, but a lot of the time he was just taking a genuine interest in people, in their lives and experiences. And now he was faced with the idea that maybe someone had seen that and they'd taken it as something more meaningful than it was – that he'd led them on, even unknowingly. There was a heavy feeling of shame taking root in his chest. He wished he could figure out who this was so they could talk and he could explain – apologise.
So what was he supposed to do now? There was still nothing to let him reach out. For the moment he would just have to endure and hop that his mystery admirer moved on.
Reaching Coruscant was something of a relief. Cody had been looking at him differently since they'd left the refugees. The idea of being 'less helpful' was awful, but just in the moment he'd found himself wondering if this was the kind of conversation he'd had with the mystery admirer and he'd just wanted to keep his distance. There was nothing wrong with that. The refugees were safe; his detachment didn't hurt them. ( Did it hurt him? )
At any rate he left Cody to handle the resupply while he headed to the Temple to deal with some council business. Once, at any given time most of the Jedi Council would have been temple-bound. Now, with the war, they were scattered all over the galaxy, but the Order went on. Those padawans entering knighthood deserved to have their achievements witnessed by more than a few tired and distracted long-distance holos, those coming back from long and difficult missions deserved to have their stories heard, those faltering, lost and confused, deserved the Council's full attention – and they didn't get it. Not anymore.
He, Yoda and Oppo Rancisis were the only council members present on Coruscant. Shaak Ti, Plo Koon and Depa Billaba were there through holo, but that still only made six of them. When he'd been a padawan, standing behind Qui-Gon during a Council session he rarely remembered there being less than ten council members present. Now, he would be shipping out tomorrow, and Master Rancisis was only here because he was technically still on medical leave. Everything had changed in the last few years.
Was he the only one who wondered just how this was the new normal?
The session went on long into the evening, discussions moving between Jedi matters to war strategy and back as though there was no difference.
“Troubled, you are,” Yoda observed as they were leaving the council chamber.
“Aren't we all these days?” he said lightly.
“Hmmm.” Yoda stopped and gazed at him for a long moment, beady eyes fixed on his face. “Have dinner with me you will.”
He hesitated for a moment, thinking of all the things he should be doing, all the work he'd left Cody with.
“Unless better offer you have?” Yoda added archly. “See you too seldom I do. Saw you more when you were a crechling than I do now we serve on the same Council.”
There was that centuries of experience in placing guilt trips on hapless Jedi showing. “I would be honoured,” he said politely.
Yoda snorted. “Honoured I do not want. Relaxed, I would prefer.”
Honestly, he did feel a little more relaxed after dinner spent in Yoda's company, drinking tea and talking about obscure philosophy and ancient history, and that lasted until he got back to his rooms and found three packages waiting for him, sitting innocuously by his door, clearly labelled “Obi-Wan Kenobi, care of the Jedi Temple.”
With a feeling of dread he carried them inside and laid them on the table. There were no sender details and, judging by the dates on them, they'd been sent several weeks apart, and he tried to tell himself that he didn't know they'd been sent by his mystery sender. But really, who else?
Enough of this. They were here, and that meant that they had cleared Temple security so, if nothing else, they weren't dangerous. And there was nothing inherently sinister about sending things to the Temple expecting they would find him eventually. He was a Jedi. Of course he could be reached at the Temple, everyone in the galaxy probably knew that. Besides, nothing that the sender had said so far had given any indication of hostile intent. The man was simply...misguided. And persistent. That was all. It wasn't anything to worry about.
Taking a deep breath he carefully opened the packages one at a time. A small, copper relief of a zinnia tree. A packet of candied fruits from Alderaan. A thick, soft blanket embroidered with flower garlands and other symbols of love and devotion. None of them had any messages attached and he wondered if that was better or worse. From a certain point of view, there was no expectations being laid here, just gifts that he might even call thoughtful. He ran his hand over the blanket and tried not to think about how much warmer it would be than the standard-issue blanket on his bunk on the Negotiator.
“Master! I only just found out that you were on Coruscant!”
Anakin. Who, of course, hadn't hesitated before walking straight into Obi-Wan's rooms – not that he wanted him to, he'd told his former apprentice more than once that his door was always open.
“Anakin,” he said turning around with a smile. “It's late, I wasn't expecting to see you.” He almost added that he'd assumed Anakin would be spending the night with his wife but thankfully remembered to hold his tongue.
“I heard you were only here for one day and I wanted to see you.”
“Why, of course, we haven't seen each other in nearly seven days,” he said with a smirk. “How I've missed you.”
“If I didn't think you meant it, I might be hurt,” Anakin said, walking past him huffily. Of course, he spotted the gifts, the wrapping still lying around them. “Oh – have you finally been spending your stipend on frivolous luxuries like the rest of us?”
“My stipend is spent on tea and Corellian brandy as well you know,” he said firmly, walking around and trying to shove the gifts out of sight. “Speaking of which, would you like some tea?”
Unfortunately, Anakin could be very observant. “No, really, where did this come from? I mean, I suppose I can imagine you buying the candy, but what's this bronze thing? And the blanket...” He trailed off, and Obi-Wan occupied himself with the tea kettle. “Master, is someone trying to court you ?”
Obi-Wan wondered whether or not he should be insulted by that sharp tone of incredulity. He carefully didn't look round. “Nonsense,” he said. “It's nothing, just a few things that were wrongly delivered.”
Naturally, Anakin wasn't listening. “I want to meet her. Or him. Them.”
“Who?” he asked patiently.
“Whoever's sending you gifts!”
Yes. So would Obi-Wan. “You're getting worked up over nothing, Anakin. I told you, it's just a mistake. I'll be donating them to the quartermaster in the morning.” That was the safest thing to do. The gifts could be taken as a kindness and see good use, but he wouldn't have to feel guilty about using them himself under any kind of false pretences.
“If you say so,” Anakin looked doubtful as he settled down at the table. “I will have a cup of tea, thank you, but then I have to, uh, go and finish my report.”
The report that he had, no doubt, left in Senator Amidala's apartment. Still, he would gladly enjoy a little time with his friend. He took a deep breath, and let all the doubt and unease go for the moment.
Surprisingly, this had been a good day.