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The voice modulator is even rougher coming out than it was going in as it claws its way back up his throat. The damage will heal, they say, but for now, Obi-Wan is so hoarse he's practically mute. And right at a time when he most needs his voice to apologize. The deception may have been necessary for the mission, but he knows he still hurt Anakin, Ahsoka, Satine, hell, probably even Cody and the rest of the 212th. He won’t apologize to the clones; if they ask, an explanation that it was for the good of the war will be enough for them. The others, though, deserve more than that. And he can’t tell them he’s sorry.
With Satine he has an excuse to just type her an apology. She returned to Mandalore soon after his funeral, so he doesn’t have to confront her in person. It’s a relief, actually, as along with the emotional toll he expects it would take on him, there are no Jedi codes of conduct preventing her from slapping him across the face. It’s still delicate from the transformation back from Rako Hardeen. While it's obviously easier to type than to speak, he still has difficulty getting the words out. It doesn't bode well for his other apologies.
After the first apology is finished, he seeks out Ahsoka. He finds her in the library, catching up on some reading. The war has been hard on the padawans, who have to split their time between the front and their studies. Just one would be exhausting enough, and he's so proud of how well his grand-padawan is handling it.
Though he makes no noise to alert her to his presence, Ahsoka must feel him through the Force because she looks up suddenly. He offers her a smile, the only thing he can, even though it tugs painfully on his recently-reformed face. There's a bang as she knocks her chair over in her haste to stand up, and the unsuspecting older Jedi is nearly knocked off his feet by the force of her hug.
“Don’t you ever kriffing do that to us again,” she growls against his robes, and if Obi-Wan could, he’d tell her to watch her language. She pulls back quickly, and slaps his arm, like she can't decide whether to be happy or angry. Obi-Wan thinks, not for the first time, that the Jedi's strict rules on emotion and attachments often cause more confusion than good. "You're a bastard for putting us through that. I mean, I held you as you 'died' and we all went to your funeral." Obi-Wan half-smiled at her sympathetically, in what he hoped was not a condescending way. He suspected he had failed when she narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously. “You’re uncharacteristically quiet. Is everything alright?” Kenobi attempts to explain, but breaks off with a cough and a grimace, gesturing to his throat. “Oh, is it from the voice modulator thing?” He nods. “Is it permanent?" He shakes his head. “Good. I would miss listening to you and Anakin bicker. Kind of poetic, though, that you lose your voice, because you didn't tell us what was going on."
"Sorry," Obi-Wan mouths.
"It's… well, I’m not going to say it’s okay, because it's not, but I understand why you needed to do it. Give me a couple more days and I'll forgive you."
"Thank you," he whispers hoarsely, unable to make his voice any louder. The librarian would probably approve, as neither Obi-Wan or Anakin are known for being able to keep their voices down.
"I'll warn you though, I don't think Anakin will be so forgiving. In fact, I reckon he’s liable to re-rearrange your face. You should talk to him, though. Or, not talk, but... you know. Communicate.”
“I’ll try,” Obi-Wan agrees silently. He pulls Ahsoka back into a hug before letting her go.
Anakin is training in the holo-simulator when Obi-Wan finds him. He steps into the room, and flinches instinctively as his former padawan’s deflects a blaster bolt directly towards him. The projection ends before where he stands, so it thankfully dissipates before Obi-Wan is holographically shot. The glare he receives as Anakin lets his lightsaber retract tells him that the deflected bolt was not unintentional.
“So now he shows his face,” the younger Jedi snarls. There’s a fire burning in his eyes. Despite the way the two men had easily fallen in step with each other when rescuing the Chancellor, he clearly isn’t over the deception. “Did you even consider what it would do to us, Master? To Ahsoka, Satine, Padme. To think you were dead? We were at your funeral, Obi-Wan. Did you not think about how much that would hurt?”
There’s nothing Obi-Wan can say to that even if he was able to speak. Because he had considered it, and decided it was worth it to hurt everyone he knew and loved for the sake of a single mission. According to the Jedi code, it was the right thing to do. After all, he shouldn’t even have these attachments. But if Obi-Wan is able to think of himself outside of the code, something that is still not in his first nature despite having been trained by Qui Gon Jinn, he realizes that he was the wrong man for the job. Another Jedi, without a padawan or youngsters he still has to train, would have been better suited for the role. That would have caused less damage, less pain to flow into the Force.
“You betrayed our trust,” Anakin snarls, pacing back and forth in front of his mentor. If saying things aloud is supposed to allow people to let go of them, it's having the opposite effect on the young knight. “You were thoughtless, empathyless, and cruel.” He lets those words hang between them as he glares at his former master, clearly expecting him to defend himself. “What, you won’t even grant me the dignity of a response or an apology? Bastard.”
He storms past Obi-Wan, too fast to allow the older Jedi to grab his robes or anything to keep him there, give him a chance to at least mouth that he was sorry. He doesn't quite run down the hallway, but walks fast enough to leave the other man behind.
“Anaki-” Obi-Wan tries to shout as he chases more slowly after him, but his ruined voice catches on the last sound and he is instantly bent double by coughing. By the time he straightens up again, his brother is long gone.