Chapter Text
“Obi-Wan!”
The Jedi Master turned around and was met with Anakin and Ahsoka running towards him.
“Anakin, what are-” he started to say. Something cool was then pressed into his hand. A lightsaber. Anakin’s lightsaber.
Obi-Wan looked up from his hand and made eye contact with his former padawan. The Jedi Knight looked away. He was tense, still angry at Obi-Wan for not sticking up more for Ahsoka.
“Ahsoka and I… we can’t do it anymore. We… can’t be apart of the Order. She wants to leave and I… I’m going with her. I’m... sorry, Master.”
Oh. Oh.
Obi-Wan felt his shoulders tense. A million thoughts fueled through his head.
“Anakin, I-”
I don’t want you to leave.
I need you.
I don’t want to be alone.
Ahsoka unclipped her padawan braid. The beads made a small jingling noise as they poured into her hand.
“Master Obi-Wan,” she said, “I just want to thank you for giving me those contacts earlier. They were helpful and… Ventress really… she put a few things into perspective. I… um… I want to give you this,”
She lifted his other hand and poured the beads into it.
“Thank you for being our teacher… both me and Anakin,” She finished, closing his hand.
He didn’t say anything for a moment. He couldn’t say anything.
“Anakin, Ahsoka, I…”
Melida/Daan
“Don’t you see?! They need us! There are people being killed! Children, Master!”
Qui-Gon looked down at the boy in front of him. The padawan he was forced (by the Force) to teach.
“No. Master Tahl is injured-”
“Then I’ll stay! I’ll stay to help and-”
“You will no longer be a Jedi.”
The young padawan stopped for a moment.
“What? Master, please-”
“No. If you choose to stay, you will no longer be my padawan! You will be expelled from the Order!”
Obi-Wan looked up in disbelief.
“Master, can’t you see I-”
“You either follow my orders or you stay and leave the Jedi!”
Tears welled up in the young boy’s eyes.
“Then I… I have to stay.”
The older man was beyond upset. He extended his large hand out to the young man in front of him.
“Your lightsaber,” he gritted out, “And your braid.”
What did you want Qui-Gon to say?
“...I understand,” Obi-Wan said.
Anakin and Ahsoka looked at each other in shock. They turned back to Obi-Wan, they were waiting for the “But…” .
“Please,” The Jedi Master said, letting his hands fall to his sides, still clutching the two precious items, “Be safe. And… may the Force be with you, my friends.”
Obi-Wan turned on his heels before they could say anything. He faintly heard their footsteps retreating the other way after a moment.
He was glad they couldn’t see the tears gather in his eyes. He clutched the lightsaber and braid closed to his chest as he sped toward his quarters. He didn’t let the tears fall.
When he got there he shut the door gently. He needed to do something. Anything to get his mind off the last few weeks.
Maul’s return. Satine’s death at his hands. Ahsoka being almost sent to execution. And now… both Anakin and Ahsoka were gone. Safe, if they went where Obi-Wan thought they’d go but… gone nonetheless.
It was fine. It was good. It was their decision, and they were allowed to make it. And Obi-Wan had told the truth. He understood. He understood they needed to be away from the Order.
They needed to be away from Obi-Wan.
He settled on making tea. And perhaps indulging in some whiskey.
Obi-Wan walked over to his small window that was surrounded by plants. The Coruscant sunset filtered in and gave all of them a vibrant green color. He noticed one of the plants, one native to Shili, was growing a bit taller than the others. Its stalky build reached sunlight easier than many of the other plants. He moved it lower, so the others could gather some sun.
He moved his gaze to the small decorative table next to the window. The three holo-pics on top of it were varied. One had Master Tahl and Qui-Gon desperately trying to get loth-cats off of their robes, which had invaded their ship at the time. Another was of Anakin, Ahsoka, and Padme, at the beginning of the war. They were looking at the camera and smiling. It was their first mission altogether and they practically begged Obi-Wan for a picture. Anakin, Ahsoka, and Padme all had copies of the photos. The last picture was of a younger Satine, during that year-long mission. She was giggling and trying to cover her face. Obi-Wan could still almost hear her playful squeaks when he had tried to shove a camera in her face.
Almost.
The table had a small drawer. He opened it. Inside sat Qui-Gon’s lightsaber, the smooth force-sensitive stone Qui-Gon had given him, a broken piece of Cody’s Marshall Commander pin from that one mission that was so brutal Cody had to replace his armor and a small decorated hairpin that Satine had given him.
All the items had a memory (or several) attached to it.
Obi-Wan looked at the empty space in the drawer he had left for Anakin’s padawan braid. He briefly pondered where Padme put it when Anakin had given it to her. With a shaky sigh, he gently put Anakin’s lightsaber and Ahsoka’s braid next to each other in the drawer. He slid it closed, and that was that.
Onto that tea. And whiskey of course.
He opened his cabinet and rustled a few things around. His eyes settled on an old, very disgusting brew Grandmaster Yoda had given him as a padawan. The sight of it made the Jedi Master want to laugh. Obi-Wan always forgot the Grandmaster of the Order was, in fact, his Great-Grandmaster. Of course, due to the short master’s age, Yoda had started many different lineages, but especially now, Obi-Wan’s always caused the most trouble.
Yoda was part of an unknown species and was 900 years old. Dooku was... well… he was a Sith Lord. Once, Dooku had called Obi-Wan his “Grand-padawan” during a duel, and Obi-Wan could swear his neck still hurt from the whiplash that it gave him. Then there was Qui-Gon who was killed, but during his life had been full of plenty of insane experiences that Obi-Wan didn’t have the energy to go over. Then there was Obi-Wan himself.
Crazy old Ben.
Last of the Jedi.
Obi-Wan shook his head. He’d been having that same vision all his life, even from when he was in the creche. Why did it come to mind now?
What would Qui-Gon say?
Ah yes, dreams pass in time.
Obi-Wan sighed and grabbed the black tea from the back of the cabinet, then the whiskey from the shelf and a random datapad on the counter.
Duty came before feelings, and for Obi-Wan, it was a welcome exchange.
He quickly set up the kettle and sat on a stool. If he knew anything about the 501st battalion it was that they cared deeply for each other and Commander Tano and General Skywalker. Standard GAR procedure was in case of a Jedi’s death or resignment, the battalion of clones would be split and reassigned to different battalions.
Obi-Wan cared deeply enough for the Republic’s soldiers to know that the loss of General Skywalker and Commander Tano would be terrible… for morale of course.
Obi-Wan considered his options. The 501st battalion had so many men, but he supposed they could join the 212th and become more of a legion… no, the clones had a certain pride when it came to names and colors. Just because the 501st and 212th worked closely didn’t mean they’d be happy becoming some huge legion. There were no Jedi that were experienced enough to take on such a battle-hardened and large battalion like the 501st. And a ‘replacement’ Jedi would make things worse… for morale, of course. Perhaps he could keep some of the smaller companies and squadrons together… but then they’d still be split and their pride wounded-
The loud whistle of the tea kettle snapped Obi-Wan out of his thoughts. He silenced it and quietly poured his tea and whiskey.
Eventually, he felt a nice buzz in the back of his head as the sun fully set and Coruscant’s city lights lit up the planet instead.
His gaze ended back on the holo-pics on the small table by the window. He knew, somewhere across the city, Padme, Anakin, and Ahsoka were together. Hopefully, they were smiling like they were in the holo-pic.
Obi-Wan turned back to his drink and the datapad. His virtual notes were still open, with a couple of dozen ideas on what to do with the 501st. He noticed something drip into his mug. He brought a hand to his cheek.
Oh.
He was crying.
All at once, the Jedi Master felt very small, pathetic, cold, and alone.
Very alone indeed.