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The Maverick
Obi-Wan sobs over the body growing steadily colder in his arms.
He is alone – truly alone. No guards, no soldiers, no handmaidens, no queen, no little boy. No one was there with him. The sith was gone and so was his Master, so Obi-Wan allowed himself this moment to weep, to feel, because he knew the second he left this room he would no longer be Padawan Kenobi. His actions here today would make him a knight, and his promise would make him a Master to a child shrouded in chaotic emotions and destined for a greatness Obi-Wan hadn’t yet wrapped his head around.
So Obi-Wan cried.
And Obi-Wan begged.
“No. No. It’s not supposed to be me. I can’t train the chosen one. It was supposed to be him!” Obi-Wan whispered to the empty air.
He rocked Qui-Gon’s body back and forth like the life it once carried would suddenly return. “Please,” he hiccuped. “Take me. Take me instead. Not him. Please.”
The Force was not in a bargaining mood. It ignored Obi-Wan’s pleas. It felt cold and hollow now that Qui-Gon was no longer living in it.
Obi-Wan was hyperventilating now. He couldn’t seem to calm down enough to catch his breath and he felt himself becoming lightheaded. His chest hurt and cold sweat slicked his skin. He suddenly felt the need to put distance between himself and Qui-Gon’s body. He gently pulled his legs out from under him and then scrambled backward a few feet.
He put his head in his hands and curled into himself. Inside the giant power generator, Obi-Wan had never felt so small.
Eventually, the exhaustion of battle and grief got the better of him. He lay down. The gray structures and catwalks above him blurred as his vision became obscured by tears. He knew he should go get some help. He would need someone to help him with Qui-Gon’s body, but right now, he felt too drained to move. He cried until he was asleep on the cold hard ground.
~~~
“Are they both dead?”
“I don’t think so. I think this one is just unconscious.”
“Where’s the Zabrak?”
“I don’t know.”
Cold fingers pressed against Obi-Wan’s neck, searching for a pulse. He gasped awake and looked up at the two Nubian guardsmen who were peering at him with curious eyes.
“Hey kid, easy,” the Nubian who had touched his neck said calmly, holding his hands up in a submissive stance.
Obi-Wan relaxed slightly.
“What happened here?” the other Nubian asked.
“I uh-” Obi-Wan faltered. “I killed the Sith.”
Both guards looked at him with awe. It made Obi-Wan sick. They shouldn’t be looking at him like that. Not when he failed so spectacularly. Not when he had killed so savagely. Not when his Master lay dead while he got away without a scratch.
“Are you hurt?” one of the guards asked.
Obi-Wan wasn’t sure how to answer that one.
The Duchess
In the moment, Obi-Wan had not the time to mourn. Fighting for your life and trying to escape a coup doesn’t leave much room for processing. He pushed it away. Saved it for later.
It’s later.
Obi-Wan stands in the middle of his quarters, not really sure what he is supposed to do now. What could he do? Nothing he did would bring her back, so why do anything at all?
He was still adorned in the Mandalorian armor. It was far heavier and more involved than his normal armor. It left him feeling claustrophobic and pinned down.
He began undoing the armor – or at least he tried to. His fingers were shaking and it was making it difficult to maneuver the intricate buckles and straps on the various metal pieces. He had only managed to get one vambrace off before Anakin came bursting through his front door.
“What the hell happened to my ship?” Anakin asked, though he didn’t sound mad. He sounded concerned. At the moment, Obi-Wan would have preferred anger.
“I’m sorry, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, trying to keep his voice even. He couldn’t meet Anakin’s eyes. With his body turned slightly away from Anakin, he focused on undoing the other vambrace. “I’ll put in an order to have it replaced.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
“It crashed.”
“With you in it?”
“I’m fine, Anakin.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
Obi-Wan didn’t respond. He instead focused on the intricate fastenings on the vambrace. Frustration built in him when his shaking fingers wouldn’t allow him to undo the clasps.
“Obi-Wan,” Anakin said, his tone more cautious now. “Why did you need to borrow my ship? Why are you in Mandalorian armor?”
“When I borrowed that ship, you promised you wouldn’t ask me why.”
“That was before you crashed it.”
Obi-Wan fumbled over one of the buckles and it pinched his skin. He huffed in frustration.
“Here,” Anakin said. “Let me.”
“I’ve got it, Anakin.”
“Clearly,” Anakin said, shooting Obi-Wan an unimpressed look. “Let me try.”
Obi-Wan resigned and let Anakin work on the fastenings. The vambrace was off in seconds. Anakin then got to work on the pauldrons.
“I can get those,” Obi-Wan said, exasperated.
“I know.” Anakin kept working on them anyway. “So what happened?”
A heavy silence filled the space between them.
“I was trying to save her,” Obi-Wan finally said.
“Who?”
“The Duchess of Mandalore.”
“Satine? Where is she?” Anakin asked before he could think about it.
Obi-Wan’s silence was answer enough. Anakin stopped working on the armor and tried to look into Obi-Wan’s eyes, but they were downcast.
“ Oh. Oh Obi-Wan, I-” Anakin stuttered. “I’m so sorry.”
Obi-Wan pulled away and turned around so Anakin couldn’t see his face again. He took in a shuddering breath.
“Obi-Wan?” Anakin’s concern was palpable. “Obi-Wan are you alright?”
“What do you think, Anakin?” The question came out harsher and more bitter than intended. It only added to his guilt. Anakin didn’t know any better. He was only trying to help him.
Before he could stop it, a harsh sob escaped Obi-Wan’s lips. He didn’t have the strength to keep standing, not with the weight of the armor weighing him down as it was. He sank to the floor, landing on his still armored knees. Anakin was instantly kneeling in front of him, his hands on Obi-Wan’s shoulders.
“Obi-Wan, I-” Anakin started before giving up on words and instead pulling Obi-Wan into a tight hug.
To Anakin’s surprise and dismay, Obi-Wan buried his head in Anakin’s shoulder and cried quietly. Anakin started rubbing Obi-Wan’s back, but it was still adorned in armor, so Anakin ran his fingers through Obi-Wan’s hair in a way he hoped was comforting.
“It’s alright,” Anakin murmured. “It’s alright.”
“Why didn’t it take me?” Obi-Wan mumbled, so low Anakin almost didn’t hear him.
“Why didn’t what take you?”
“The Force. It never takes me. It takes everyone else, but never me. It should have been me. It was about me. Why didn’t it take me instead?”
Panic lanced through Anakin’s chest at Obi-Wan’s words.
“Master, don’t talk like that. Please don’t talk like that.”
“I’m sorry, I’m… I’m not myself. You should go. I-”
“I’m not leaving you alone right now, Obi-Wan. You know that.”
“Anakin-”
“Don’t ‘Anakin’ me, I’m staying with you whether you want me to or not.”
“Alright,” Obi-Wan finally submitted. He lacked the strength to fight with Anakin over this. He pulled away from Anakin and rubbed his hands over his face.
“Anakin?” he asked quietly.
“Yes?”
“Can you help me get this off?” Obi-Wan gestured to the heavy armor still left on his body.
“Of course, Master. Of course I can.”
After a few minutes of undoing buckles and straps, Anakin was able to finally pull the heavy weight of the Mandalorian armor off of Obi-Wan’s chest.
Obi-Wan took a deep breath.
The Padawan
The Force was no longer a comfort to Obi-Wan.
It was dark and twisted and sour and so empty. Only a few small sparks of light remained, clinging desperately to a cosmic fabric that was torn and frayed far beyond what a simple mending could fix.
Save Master Yoda and the twins, everyone was gone. Obi-Wan didn’t know if anyone remained. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know if anyone remained. If they did, they could not possibly reunite. Two light-side Force signatures together would only bring on unwanted attention, and Obi-Wan had a job to do.
Obi-Wan sat alone in his tiny little hut and attempted to meditate. Meditation was proving to be quite the adjustment for him now that The Force itself was mangled and broken. He reached for it, but every attempt stung him.
He stood up, growling in frustration.
It wasn’t often that Obi-Wan gave in to theatrical displays of emotion. Only when he lost someone, but even then, there was a quietness to his emotion. But Obi-Wan had lost everyone. So he gave in. Just for a moment, he gave in to his base instincts. He grabbed a small mug and threw it at the wall, a guttural scream ripping itself from his throat as he did.
“Why don’t you ever listen to me?!” he screams at nothing.
The Force quivered around him.
“Why won’t you just take me?! Take me instead!” he commands. The Force was never one for taking orders. He knows this. It doesn’t stop him from pleading with it.
“Please. It’s never me. You took everyone but me. It should have been me.” His voice is now a broken whisper and his frame is consumed with racking sobs.
Obi-Wan mourned for all of the fallen Jedi. For all of the younglings. For Padme. For all of the people who would now suffer under the rule of a cruel Empire, unchecked by the powers of the Jedi. But more than any of that, Obi-Wan mourned for Anakin. He knew it was pointless - the prodigal son of the Force itself was gone and would not be returning. This, Obi-Wan knew. But still, part of him wanted nothing more than to lay down on the sand-covered floor until his dying day. But Obi-Wan had a job to do.
Yes, he would protect the boy until the Force finally decided to take Obi-Wan too – just as it had done with everyone else.