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The months passed on Sanctuary in relative peace. The planet was far enough out of the way that the only time the burgeoning New Empire interacted with it was for fuel stops, and even they were a rare occurrence, happening only a handful of times since your arrival. It had little to offer, nothing valuable to be mined, and neither did it’s very small singular moon.
It was the closest thing to Earth you had experienced in that regard. Though smaller than earth, seasons passed in a similar fashion. The one moon, the sunsets and the terrain were all fairly familiar. If you ignored the dark maroon furred Mortha and the obnoxiously bright blue krill you farmed, you could almost pretend you were back in Earth’s countryside, sitting on your porch, listening to Pink Floyd and forgetting there was a universe out there.
Despite it being peaceful in that sense, it wasn’t in a myriad of other ways. Your ‘training’ as Yoda had instructed, was fruitless, and it was leading to frustration on the part of Obi-Wan. You feared the day he would turn on you, blaming your attachment for his inability to contact his Master, but it never happened, and even when he was frustrated, he would uncross his legs, stand, and press a gentle kiss on your forehead.
It was winter now, and it had been a slog preparing the farm for the cold. The ponds froze over so you couldn’t get to the Krill and the wheat fields were barren, awaiting spring. There was little to do besides tend to the Mortha, but you still found that Obi-Wan somehow managed to keep himself busy. He would be out in the forest chopping wood for your fire at the crack of dawn, and he’d spend the day tinkering. With the house, with the farming equipment, with M2, who had grown tired of new parts being fixed onto him because Obi-Wan couldn’t sit still.
The both of you were still plagued by nightmares. Visions or memories or sometimes both, intermingled and tangled so heavily it was hard to discern reality from fear. But ever since that first night, neither you nor Obi-Wan slept on the sofa, instead seeking solace in each other's arms of an evening, always there when the other awoke in a cold sweat to sooth the pain.
It was the days when Obi-Wan had had a particularly troublesome nightmare that he was the quietest. Today was one of those days. He had slipped out of bed before you had woken up and collected firewood, but when he came home, he didn’t tinker. He merely sat on the rocking chair on the porch, half reading a book on agriculture and half lost in thought.
You checked in on him throughout the day. You sat with him with a cup of kaf in the morning and asked if he wanted to talk about it. He had shaken his head ‘no’ and so you had given him space, appearing only to bring him lunch before you took on the task of feeding the Mortha and heading into town for more food for dinner.
It was late when you returned home, and Obi-Wan was still sitting on the porch. He jumped at the sound of your bike approaching, but composed himself quickly, sitting straight and setting his book aside as you climbed the porch steps, groceries in hand. You caught his eye in the dim light of the back end of a sunset, and he gave you a shaky smile.
You placed the bag by the door and walked over to him, he planted his feet firmly on the floor, opened his arms, and welcomed you eagerly into his lap. The two of you sat there in silence, enjoying each other's company as the sunset faded quickly into darkness. At some point, the porch light flickered on and Obi-Wan picked up his book again. You didn’t move, and Obi-Wan rocked the chair gently as you stared out over your frost covered garden, occasionally glancing back at the man who had been living as Ben on this planet.
His hair had been getting longer, and when a section of it fell over his eyes, you instinctively reached out and brushed it out of his sight, fingers threading through his tresses. He looked up at you, smile playing on his lips as you made no attempt to retract your hands, instead working your fingers through his soft locks. Obi-Wan hummed at how good it felt, and then frowned.
“I should probably cut it again.” He murmured, closing the book.
“No,” you whined, shaking your head, “Please don’t.”
He had cropped his hair into a buzzcut shortly after you had settled on Sanctuary, and, although you were sure nothing could make Obi-Wan any less attractive, you had sorely missed his smooth, long hair. You missed being able to knot your hands in it when you kissed. You missed brushing it as he sat at the kitchen table eating porridge. You missed this - playing with it intimately as he gazed into your eyes.
“No?” He quirked an eyebrow. You smiled, leaning down to kiss him tenderly. You shook your head when you parted, raising your other hand to thread through the hair at the nape of his neck.
“No.”
“Okay then,” he whispered, wrapping his arms tighter into you and losing himself in the feel of your lips.
“I should cook dinner,” you murmured, and Obi-Wan pouted as you pulled away.
“I said I would tonight.”
You were about to argue, when Obi-Wan stood, pulling you up with him, before placing you back in the rocking chair, hands bracing you as he leant down to kiss you again. You let him think he’d won for a second, relaxing into the chair and his lips, before you let your stubbornness kick in. You cupped his cheeks and stood, his arms wrapping around your waist. He sighed defeatedly and you grinned against his lips.
“Let’s do it together.”
That night, Obi-Wan was late to bed.
After dinner, you had convinced M2 to play track 8, and had washed the dishes while he dried them and put them back in the cupboard, a perfectly oiled machine. You had smiled sheepishly at the simple familiarity of it. Of Obi-Wan’s hand brushing against yours as you passed him a spoon. Of his presence, relaxed and steady beside you. It felt like home.
Once it all had been put away, the song still playing, Obi-Wan placed his palm in yours, pulling you into the living room with M2 trundling behind you. His other hand met your waist, an almost magnetising effect, and he pressed his forehead against yours, humming softly to the music. You let your eyes close, losing yourself in the joy.
Obi-Wan felt it radiating off of you, through the force. That gentle hum of happiness that sparked his own. He wished that it was the only thing he could feel, but when the song ended, and his thoughts still burned in the back of his mind he sighed and stepped away.
“I’m going to sit on the porch for a bit, darling.” He leaned in and pressed a kiss to your forehead, and you watched him leave out the front door.
“BeEEp BOooOP.” M2 buzzed, and you patted him gently, taking a seat on the sofa and crossing your legs, preparing to meditate.
“He’ll be alright, M2,” you whispered, closing your eyes and centring yourself, “the force is with us.”
You hadn’t had a vision since that one on Beor, but surprisingly you were thankful for it. Yoda’s training, although you knew to be important, seemed to be pointless for you. There was no one who had become one with the force after death that you had been particularly bonded with, and you were sure after your departure from the Order, none of them would even want to speak to you. When you had mentioned that to Obi-Wan he had chastised you instantly in his soft voiced way, telling you that those thoughts were exactly what was stopping you from reaching through.
After a long meditation, bringing no visions or contact with a deceased Jedi, you opened your eyes to find the porch light still on. You stood, walking slowly outside to see Obi-Wan sitting on the porch steps, cracking his knuckles, still deep in thought.
You tried to lure him into the comfort of your shared sheets, running your hands across the plains of his tense shoulders as you whispered in his ear;
“Come rest, handsome.”
He shook his head, squeezing your hand reassuringly but gazing sadly out across the ponds of your krill farm from his spot. You didn’t challenge him. If he needed an hour or so alone with his thoughts, so be it. He knew you would be waiting for him. So, you disappeared back inside, into your bedroom and under the covers… waiting.
When you had asked him to come to bed, all he had wanted to do was crawl into your arms and let you hold him, your mere presence soothing him of his worries. It had rarely ever progressed further than that. Every night, your arms wrapped around him, the only place he considered home. Occasionally his lips pressed against yours softly, seeking comfort in the act of intimacy you two had allowed yourself over the years. Twice, his hand found its way under your undershirt, resting gently against your skin in what he deemed an act of selfish need to feel more of you close to him.
Tonight, he was particularly plagued with what this new life, away from the Order and its rules, would actually mean for him. His nightmare had been about Anakin, an enraged conversation the two of them had had during the war, morphing into the memory of his death. Anakin had been repeatedly acting on his emotions toward Padme, occasionally allowing them to cloud his judgement, and Obi-Wan tried to tell him he understood, but the Jedi had a duty to the Republic and nothing could get in the way with that… but perhaps he hadn’t been honest enough with his former Padawan. Perhaps if they hadn’t kept secrets, things could’ve turned out differently.
It had also led him to question what he had thought the Order had been telling him his whole life. It had been weeks of reprogramming. Of questioning thoughts that cropped up.
Was this what he thought? Or was it what the Order had told him to think?
Was what he wanted still wrong? Or now that the Order was through, could he decide that for himself?
The Order he thought he knew told him he was out of balance. The Order he thought he knew told him your arms were not what he should seek solace in. The Order he thought he knew told him to let you go.
He clenched his fist at the mere thought of it, anger flaring at the idea of leaving you.
No. No, leaving you was wrong. He was wrong.
He composed himself, controlled his emotions, and thought clearly. With you, he was balanced. With you, he was strong. With you, he was one with the force.
He stood from his chair, turning quickly into the home you now shared. The life he had known was gone. Maybe it had been a lie, maybe it had meant something, maybe it would all mean something more one day. But for right now, his life was here. His life was you.
He paused in the doorway to your shared bedroom, watching the rise and fall of your steady breaths as you slept peacefully. Your nightmares had become less frequent, as had his, and as you settled into your new life, Obi-Wan found himself dreaming again. Blissful, joyous dreams, of you and your farm, of the Mortha he cared for and the flowers you tended, of your arms around him.
He smiled, and then frowned, guilt creeping over him. How could he let himself be so happy when all that surrounded him was loss? He swallowed thickly as his thoughts spiralled again. He thought of his old Master, cradled in his arms as he took his last breaths. He thought of Anakin, reaching out as Obi-Wan turned his back on the only family he had known. He thought of Padme, holding on for so long, fighting until the very end. All those secrets, building and building.
Tears stung his eyes and he jerked forward, desperate to seek the comfort of your touch.
You felt the bed dip to your left. It pulled you out of your slumber and you turned to welcome Obi-Wan into your arms. He let you wrap yourself around him, leg twisting around his own and arms snaking under his, grasping at his shoulders.
You were about to drift back off into sleep, smile tugging at your lips as you relished in the warmth of Obi-Wan’s arms, when you felt the soft shaking of his shoulders. Was Obi-Wan… crying?
You looked up, trying to focus your eyes in the darkness of your room. You could make out shadows of his face, his eyes scrunched up as he bit down on his lip.
“Obi-Wan,” you whispered, untangling your hands from his back so you could cup his face. He opened his eyes, fingers wrapping around yours and keeping them fixed against the bristle of his beard.
“What is it?” You asked.
“There’s… I feel… so much loss.” Obi-Wan croaked out, looking down between you, unable to meet your eyes. “So much fear . I failed Anakin. I… I wasn’t able to…” He paused, and couldn’t bring himself to end the sentence. “I feel it pulling me.”
He didn’t have to name it. You knew what it was. Since you had first shared your grief those first days on Sanctuary, you had seldom talked about Anakin. If you did, it was in reference to the man you knew before he turned, and if Obi-Wan called out his name in a nightmare, he never wanted to talk about it.
“Do you remember when…” You reached up and traced your finger over the hollow of his cheek, where his overgrown beard tapered off into soft skin. “When I arrived in Coruscant. And you took me to the Jedi Chambers, and you answered my questions?”
Obi-Wan looked up at you, eyes glassy with tears. He moved his head up and down in a small nod, and you continued on, fingers moving up to wipe a tear that threatened to fall.
“Do you remember what you told me? About the force?”
“Yes.” He said softly, and you watched his shoulders drop. Despite him knowing, you repeated it anyway.
“Even the smallest of light illuminates the dark.”
It was a whisper. Like it was a secret shared only between the two of you. In this galaxy of ever growing darkness, you had those words.
“You’re my light,” Obi-Wan whispered back, “without you… If I hadn’t found you-” A choking sob interrupted his train of thought and you smiled sadly, resting your palm against his cheek and forcing him to look at you.
“I’m here now. We have each other,” and then quietly, resting your forehead against his, “the force is with us.”
He didn’t hesitate one more second, pressing his lips against yours desperately.
It was different than every other time you had kissed. It wasn’t Obi-Wan seeking a momentary reminder of something familiar. He was searching for something in your lips. Something more. When his hand on your waist clutched gently at the fabric of your shirt, pushing it upwards slightly so he could rest his hand against your skin, you knew it for sure.
“Obi-Wan,” you breathed out, breaking away from his kiss.
“I love you.” He said, and it was the first time he’d said it in those words. He’d said it in the way he told you good morning. He said it in the way he brushed your hair from your eyes when you slept. He said it when he snaked his hand around your waist when you cooked dinner. But he’d never said it using those three words .
You had waited so long to hear them say them, that you couldn’t help but beam happily. He said it again, and you laughed , overwhelmed with the pure joy of those words leaving his mouth. Obi-Wan frowned, but couldn’t help but let a smile creep onto his own face, kissing your lower lip softly. You composed yourself, and kissed him back.
“I love you, too.” You murmured into his mouth, and Obi-Wan sighed with relief. He cupped your cheeks, pulling you closer as he trailed his kisses form your lips to your chin, soft and gentle.
“I don’t want to let you go,” he whispered against your skin, and those words held more meaning behind them than you’d ever know. Your hands balled into fists in his hair, tugging him back up to your lips.
“Then don’t.”
After that, it was like something had been switched on inside Obi-Wan. There was almost no sating him. Now, whenever you gently called him to bed, he’d bound into your arms eagerly, playful and soft, chasing the nightmares away with your touch.
With his newfound experience, his cockiness returned, and gone was the innocent Obi-Wan you had loved, replaced with an even more maddening version of himself. One who could use the simplest of words to send you into a frenzy. One who no longer feared this part of him inside. No less loveable, perhaps even more so.
It carried on this way for weeks, Obi-Wan never growing tired of this newfound pleasure and desire that made a home in your body. He was still plagued with guilt, over Anakin, Padme, the Jedi that had been lost, the war that raged on throughout the galaxy. He still had nightmares, visions of losing you. Visions of Palpatine finding Anakin’s children, the children Obi-Wan had tucked away, hidden in corners of the galaxy, out of reach.
But all of those nightmares, all of that guilt, washed away in a stream of hope and joy when he awoke to find you in his arms. When he turned and saw you crouched over your flowers in the garden. Or washing dishes in the kitchen. Or hanging laundry on the porch. Or sat in the rocking chair, looking out over the stars as M2 played the soft tunes you had both grown to love.
He was surprised at the little things that came with this newfound intimacy. What he had thought had been a singular, isolated act, was in fact a myriad of moments.
Without this step, he never would’ve known the joy of seeing you in the kitchen the morning after, his shirt draped over your frame like it was made to be worn by you. He would’ve never known that feeling in the pit of his stomach - unrestrained love when he looked at you and felt the need to show you how much he adored you, finally able to in a way he never thought he could. Never thought he’d allow himself to want.
Without this step, he never would’ve known what he wanted to do next.
“We should get married.” He whispered into the darkness of the night, seconds after waking from a nightmare only to find you curled up against his chest, breathing softly. Peace. It had stirred you awake, and you hummed in confusion, not quite catching the words that had invaded your unconsciousness.
“Say that again?” You pulled back, eyelids lifting slowly as your lips curved into a small smile. He looked at you, pausing before speaking again, wanting to take in all of you before continuing.
“Marry me.” He murmured, hand travelling down your arm, lacing your fingers through his. The breath hitched in your throat as he raised your hand to his lips, pressing soft kisses across the knuckles where your hands interlocked. He repeated it again, into the silence. “Marry me.”
“Yes.” You whispered, replacing your hand against his lips with your own, pulling him closer and swearing you would never let go.
At breakfast the next day, as you ate porridge on the porch steps, your legs hooked over Obi-Wan’s thighs as he read through a manual for an old seeder droid he had found in the junkyard in town, you had furrowed your brow and decided to bring up what was said thee night before.
“What is a marriage ceremony even like for a Jedi?” You asked him, and he had looked up at you with a frown.
“Marriage was forbidden under the Order,” he said, and was surprised when a wave of guilt didn’t hit him at the thought of breaking that rule with you. His guilt had been eating away at him less and less the more he realised he was not acting impulsively on his emotions, but following the force. With you, he was balanced, and he no longer had to answer to himself or anyone else for feeling that way.
“Always?” You cocked your head and set your bowl aside.
Obi-Wan thought carefully. He knew in the past marriage hadn’t been frowned upon, and he had heard of Jedi being married against the Order’s wishes, leading to their expulsion, but he hadn’t a clue what an actual marriage ceremony would entail.
“No, not always, but… I don’t know what… how…” he frowned, and then rested a hand on your knee and squeezed. “Let’s have an Earth wedding. We can dance like you told me they do.” He smiled at the memory of you slow dancing with him in your chambers on Coruscant, a lifetime ago and yet still burned into his memory. You smiled up at him and nodded.
“Okay. An Earth wedding it is.”
It was as close to an Earth wedding as you could get and you didn’t have the heart to tell him that Earth in fact had a variety of marriage customs to choose from. So instead, you stuck to the basics. You wore a nice dress that reached the floor, made of an expensive green coloured fabric you had found on the market and asked Ten-Oh to work her magic on. She had turned it into a gown fit for a Naboo queen, with gold and silver floral detailing so intricate you swore you would hang it on the wall as art the moment you took it off. Obi-Wan didn’t know what to wear, so he went with his Jedi robes, no longer associating his love for you as at odds with the clothes he donned.
It had taken him so long to get to this point, and weeks after he first confirmed to himself that his feelings for you weren't wrong, he was only now unwaveringly certain of it.
The ceremony itself was attended only by Kel-Ah, Ten-Oh, their children and the farmer next door who you and Obi-Wan occasionally played Sabacc with. With spring approaching, the temperature was warmer, so the wedding was held in your garden. You were married against the backdrop of the forest, with your dining chairs strewn across dew covered grass, and M2 playing the familiar sound of Pink Floyd quietly in the background.
Kel-Ah officiated, to the best of his ability, and you had instructed him only to make a short speech at the altar, which on the day turned to him making a gushing emotional sermon about you saving his life and you and Obi-Wan being perfect for eachother, which was only silenced when his wife shot him a glare.
“Right, right,” Kel-Ah sighed, breath hitching as he composed himself. He looked down at the cards you had given him, containing the words he needed to read.
“Do you, Vera Kale, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”
You looked into Obi-Wan’s eyes, so bright and happy it surprised you. You had thought he would hold some apprehension, that at the last minute he couldn’t go through with it, but you had learned now to never doubt the man stood before you again. So, you smiled, and squeezed his hands held in yours.
“I do.”
At that, one of Kel-ah’s daughters held out a small velvet cushion, where two rings sat. Obi-Wan had been working on them for days, shut away in the small second bedroom and never allowing you to see them. It was only when they were before you that you realised why. They matched your locket perfectly, silver and holding a blue crystal in one, and a green in the other.
“Blue for you, Green for me,” he leaned in and whispered as he slid the cool metal over your finger, smiling sheepishly. You gazed down at it in awe and blinked away happy tears.
“Do you, Ben Kenobi, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?” Kel-ah continued.
Without a moment's hesitation, Obi-Wan leaned even closer and murmured, “I do.” With shaky hands you slid the other band over his finger, and Obi-Wan squeezed your hand comfortingly.
“Then I now pronounce you, husband and wife!” Kel-Ah cheered, and the other guests whooped too. “May the force be with you!”
Obi-Wan tugged you to him, one hand cupping your face as he kissed you softly. It didn’t matter that it wasn’t your real names that were spoken that day, you were his and he was yours, and you never had to leave his side again.
Ten-Oh cooked a roasted leg of Roba and the farmer nextdoor brought a bounty of vegetables and the seven of you gorged yourself on a feast made for kings. As night approached, you asked M2 to play track 8 again and Obi-Wan pulled you close, twirling you across the grass with a smile fixed on his face.
“I wish they could’ve been here,” you murmured, smiling up at him. Obi-Wan felt his heart clench and he pursed his lips. He thought about Anakin being here, Padme by his side. He thought about their own wedding, a wedding he had never got to see. He thought about Ahsoka causing chaos, probably playing with Kel-ah’s children and teasing the two of you as you kissed. He thought about Cody and Rex, and Mace and Yoda. All the guests that could’ve been there if you lived in a different world or a different time.
It hurt to think about, but when he looked down at you, all he could feel is joy.
“Me too.”
“Did you ever… tell Anakin?” You murmured, and Obi-Wan frowned.
“No, not outright. I… He knew of course. I think he figured it out after that mission on Felucia.”
“Ahh yes,” you giggled, pulling him a little closer. “You really knew how to kiss a girl silly back then.”
“And you’re saying I don’t now?” Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow in mock offence. You played with the soft strands of his hair at the base of his neck and leaned in, brushing your lips against his.
“Oh no, you do. I just think you’ve garnered a few more moves since then.”
“A few?” Obi-Wan kissed you softly, it was somewhat reserved, given your company, but it was passionate enough to make you swoon, leaning onto him. He pulled back eventually, and you pouted. Obi-Wan chuckled, and his hand on your waist travelled a little lower, a silent promise of more later, and you sighed.
“BeEp BoOooP?”
You hadn’t even realised the song had stopped until M2 asked if you wanted another one. You looked up at Obi-Wan and raised your eyebrow in question.
He smiled, and continued swaying you across the grass.
“Track 2, M2.”
That night, Obi-Wan lay awake watching you sleep. The sheets were pulled up under your arms, the quilt discarded on the floor a few hours ago after the third time Obi-Wan had roused you with a kiss, pulling you onto him and lazily making love to you until you collapsed into blissful slumber once again. He hadn’t slept, but he didn’t feel tired. He hadn’t wanted to close his eyes, the sight of you, curled up before him, that silver band on your finger glinting in the sunrise too perfect.
Eventually, as the morning sun grew hot on his back, he sat up. He felt an overwhelming peace and balance, and he frowned, thinking carefully. He had originally sought to get up and make some kaf, bringing it to you in bed, but he felt the force tugging him gently.
So, he answered.
Obi-Wan crept carefully across the floor of your bedroom, pulling his underwear over his legs before making his way through the house and onto the porch. He sat on the steps, staring out over the forest, and crossed his legs, closing his eyes.
He wasn’t sure how long he sat there. It could’ve been an hour, it could’ve been half of that, it could’ve been minutes, but at some point, the force called louder. It was potent, strong. It swirled around him like he was in a whirlpool. He searched through it in his mind, navigating the feeling, delving deeper until finally...
“I’ve been waiting a long time, Padawan.”
Obi-Wan’s eyes shot open and the light before him was so bright he was half convinced he’d been transported somewhere else, hurtling towards a burning star. He realised quickly it was just sunlight and blinked, averting his eyes only for them to fall on what he had thought had been his imagination.
Stood before him, arms folded, was his old Master, almost transparent, glowing.
“Master,” Obi-Wan’s throat went dry as relief washed over him. “I’ve been… I was trying to…”
“Yes, yes.” Qui Gon grinned down at his former Padawan, and Obi-Wan thought it unfair that he and Qui Gon looked the same age, when years existed between them. “You have grown strong with the force, Obi-Wan. Stronger than I could ever have hoped.”
Obi-Wan nodded humbly, never quite used to praise from his Master. Suddenly he felt like a Padawan again. He felt seventeen and clueless. Intelligent, gifted, booksmart perhaps, but clueless as to the truth behind the force all the same.
“I’m sorry if I…If I ever disappointed you, Master.” He bowed his head, and Qui Gon smiled sadly.
“You never disappointed me, Obi-Wan.” And it was said with such certainty that Obi-Wan could’ve cried at the pride it brought him. He controlled the emotion quickly, and pushed any thought of dwelling on that feeling out of his mind.
“You have created a wonderful life here, Obi-Wan,” Qui Gon sat beside him, and Obi-Wan froze. It felt like there was a but and he dreaded what it was.
“There will come a time where it will be tested,” he continued. “Where you will be tested.”
Obi-Wan remained silent, sorting through the emotions that cropped up at the thought. Fear was one, and after years of being able to overcome that emotion in particular, it was rejected in an instant. Anger was another, but that too he had trained to let go of. The third, and the one that he was surprised at, was acceptance. He realised he had felt it for weeks now. That this thing you had here couldn’t be permanent, and even if now the two of you enjoyed the moments you shared here on Sanctuary, neither of you had been trained to sit by as the Galaxy descended into the clutches of a dictatorship.
No, you stood for freedom and democracy and peace, even if there was no Order under which to act.
Maybe it was because Qui-Gon had finally shown himself to him that Obi-Wan felt so much acceptance. He realised then that he had been able to overcome the innate fear of death that existed in living beings through training, now, knowing it wasn’t the end. That beyond death your life lingered in the force, he no longer had that innate fear to overcome. One day, Obi-Wan would die, and that thought didn’t even remotely scare him
“Yes, I understand.” He finally said, and straightened his back, feeling his age again, years of wisdom rushing back to him.
Qui-Gon smiled and stood. There was much he had left to say to his Padawan, to teach him from his grave, but for now, this was enough.
“She is strong with the force, Obi-Wan,” Qui Gon said as he turned one last time to face the man his Padawan had become. “In time, she will also learn the ways of the force as you are beginning to. But for right now, the two of you have more to worry about.”
Obi-Wan tried to understand his words, to pick them apart and find their meaning, but he couldn’t. His Master had said it with a smile, and that lead him to believe it can’t have been bad. He opened his mouth to ask, but in the blink of his eyes, his Master was gone, and Obi-Wan was left staring at the sun again.