Work Text:
Reds
A Star Wars Story
The nights on Tattoone are cold. There is little water to hold the heat, and the silicon of the sand cools rapidly. That was one of the reasons the settlers still dug in, as did the forefathers of the natives. Nights on Tattooine are brutal. And not just the cold. The Tusken raiders and Kryat dragons came out to prey in the night, but always returned to their caves and settlements well before dawn.
In the long abandoned settlement on the edge of the Dune Sea, a man worn by his life and not his age tossed and turned. Old Ben, the hermit, the so-called wizard. Kenobi. Master Obi-wan. He called out, softly...
---
Padawan Obi-wan sighed softly. She could have asked.
He and Master Qui-gon had returned from Mandelor only a few hours earlier. The council had wanted to talk to his Master alone, so he'd retreated to the library where he could be found if needed. He didn't want to go to his quarters, too many people would look for him there.
I'd have stayed. He sighed again, looking at the picture of the young woman before him. Satine was addressing her people- it was a few minutes old, but he could smell her scent on his robe from where she'd hugged him, and told him he had to go. That they both had their duties.
'My dear Obi. Dear, dear Obi, we each have our own paths to follow. Mine is here, and yours is out there. You have to go. You must go, and you know why.' He would have stayed, and she told him to go.
She'd kissed him, and then turned her back on him. She didn't feel the same way he did. He didn't even know how he felt, he didn't have the word for it. Other than 'attachment'. He'd watched her walk away, not turning to board the shuttle where Master Qui-gon was already waiting until she reached the stairs. That was when he'd turned. So he wouldn't tempt her, or tempt himself, if she turned to look back at him. She wasn't attached to him.
Attachment was wrong, and yet its loss ached. He continue to watch her, listening to the voice that had wrapped itself around his mind. She was beautiful. Obi-wan started to sigh again, a sigh that turned into a yelp when someone slapped his chair back. Obi-wan looked up, his face perking up at the sight of his fellow Padawan. “Hey, Red”
“Hey, Red, yourself. What are you looking at?” Obi-wan's best friend looked over his shoulder. “Oh. Classy lady.”
Obi-wan killed the projection. They'd been called 'Red” as a collective since they were younglings by a friend of theirs. The three of them had been inseparable for years, until they'd become Padawans. And even now, the two Reds shared a room in the dormitory when they were both on Coruscant at the same time, while the third of their trio had moved to the young lady's wing. They'd done every thing together- studying, training, even the quest for their kyber crystals. Master Yoda had led their trip and told them to find their own path, yet they'd found each other in the maze of tunnels. It was only together that they'd found the cluster of kyber crystals that had called them back to a place where the entrance could be seen. Three younglings, several crystals, and individually they'd walked past them and gotten lost. Their friend was a better tracker and had highlighted their boot prints- they had each nearly stepped on the crystals alone.
Obi-wan had insisted it was just chance, while the other two said it was the will of the Force. They'd chipped the mass of frozen sand and goo that had cemented the kyber together, finding four around the fifth. It was the one in the middle that had called to Obi-wan, while each pair called to the others. Had spoke to them. A static shock had made Obi-wan yelp when he and the others reached for the cluster, his hair standing on end- the others were bald by nature or choice and had avoided that part of it. But they'd all seen the same thing. Three Jedi Masters, standing before the Senate building, guarding it against... something. Many somethings. But together, always together. In the vision they moved as one being, blue, green and gold blades swarming. That is what the kyber had shown each of them.
That was why he'd never said anything as his friends had become close. Not 'attached', but 'close', and he'd silently judged them a little. Thanks to Satine, he couldn't any more. He'd judged them for being happy. He'd gotten to be happy, and now.. he wasn't sure if he ever would be again. What his friends did when they were together wasn't wrong; he'd been wrong for thinking it was. “How'd your last mission go?”
“Pirate hunting, the Onaka gang.” The long lines of the Padawan's face lengthened with the sigh. There was sadness there, but a different kind. He always looked older than his years, at least by human standards, it was the nature of his people. “We got ambushed. Master Mundi is in the medical wing, in bacta.”
“I'm sorry- what is his prognosis.” Obi-wan turned his chair around to study the Zebrak. “Did you get hurt?”
“Just a graze. Bacta patch took care of it. I've been waiting for someone interesting to get back to he Temple for days.” The sunburst eyes in the dark face showed more than the feigned words. There was no small amount of nervousness around the question he left unanswered. “And yours?”
“Bodyguard duty.”
“You were out there for months! I almost wrote you off.” Kenobi's roommate scoffed gently. “Pretty long bodyguard mission.”
Obi-wan looked down at his hands. “Yes. It was... complicated.”
The dark skinned apprentice studied his friend closely. Obi-wan had grown on his trip, aged quite a bit. But also, he was just sad. Like he's lost something important. “I see,” rolled the soft, elegant voice.
There was a long pause, before Obi-wan spoke. “Is it just the two of us?”
“It seems the galaxy wants to be... exciting.” Just as the lugubrious face was made for the sorrows of many worlds, it was a voice made for sighs. Obi's fellow padawan slipped into the neighboring chair. “Everyone is out and about. Master Siphodious is over due, but that is never news. Or if you were talking of someone specific, Gundark and Banshee aren't in the hanger; I haven't been able to find out where they went other than they were with Judicials.”
Obi-wan nodded slowly. That those fighters were missing meant that the the third of their trio and her Master were on a mission. “So just the two of us.”
“We could try to get passes, see what is happening in the city?” The taller Padawan's voice was hopeful, but Obi-wan shook his head. “Turn your pretty lady back on, tell me about her.”
“She isn't mine.”
“Then even less harm in my looking.” The darker of the two Reds reached for the keyboard with a taunting grin. He knew that women outside the Order found him intriguing, and enjoyed the attention, even if he only ever did more than share tea with their friend. That Obi-wan seemed to have finally noticed that he was given an equal share of the interest did make him glad.
“No!” Obi-Wan lifted his foot against his friend's chair and sent it spinning away, steering it with the Force so he wouldn't run over those who were approaching. His friend let out a small yelp at the sudden change in direction, but grinned at this reaction- this was the real Obi-wan Kenobi again.
The grins they both were wearing died at a distant sound. The ones their foolishness had nearly collided with were a group of younglings led by Master Sinube. The familiar throat clearing of Librarian Nu echoed though the silence of the library like far off thunder.
The two glanced at eachother- they knew they were in the poodoo now.
---
Qui-gon Jin stepped through the archway to the library, looking around. He'd already checked his Padawan's quarters and his own, along with the simulators and the dining hall. He could use the Force to find his young student, but that would be be prying.
Kenobi would be make a strong Knight, and a great Master, if he could center himself. Four months on the run, hiding with Satine while Qui-gon had led the Death Watch on a merry chase across the stars, had been hard on his Padawan. The three of them had been running for a month prior to that, before he'd decided to play decoy. Five months alone with a beautiful, strong willed, smart young woman. Qui-gon had been sure his student would be fine with it, but he now knew the temptation was probably too much. Or had it been? Every Padawan has a time of doubts, of temptation, of just being overwhelmed by the word “Jedi' that dangled from their braid.
'Kenobi of the Code', some called the boy, 'the Jedi's Jedi'. He'd been considered the ethical paragon of his age cohort by the tutors. And he'd been sullenly silent on the flight back to Corusant. It didn't take the Force to realize how his student felt. Qui-gon tried to make conversation, but it was like talking to a wall. Maybe after then next mission and after Obi-wan had had time to recover, he'd tell the boy that she'd stopped, and looked back to.
And maybe the Jedi's Jedi would leave the Order. It wasn't for everyone. He'd be a great leader and diplomat no matter where he went, and as the consort of the Duchess of one of the Mandelorian clans maybe he could bridge old wounds left by wars in both people. The Manda'o and the Jedi were very much alike-such a thought spoken out loud would be scandalous, but it was true. Qui-gon tried to imagine his student in armour, lightsaber blazing as a beacon of hope. The image came easier than was comfortable- white armour of Mandelorian design but bare of any one clan's colors, with tan robes, followed by white armoured warriors. That image had haunted his dreams for the past several months.
Qui-gon looked around again. He was being foolish- he knew perfectly well that if you want to find something in a library, ask at the reference desk. He grinned at himself as he silently slipped towards his old friend. “Hello, Jocasta.”
Master Nu looked up at him. “It is good to have you back, Qui-gon. Let me guess, you are looking for your Padawan? Is he overdue for something?”
Master Qui-gon forced the smile from his lips. “You somehow always know what I need.”
“Night and Day went out to play, rather than making noise in my library. The courtyard with the jogan trees.”
He winced. “You're rhyming. What did they do?”
“Just being noisy. As boys that age are likely to be.” Jocasta was silent for a moment. “Your Padawn seemed troubled.”
"He will be fine. It was just a complicated mission for him. He needs to work through it.”
Jocasta Nu could remotely check every terminal in the library, and the youngling and Padawan dormitories. When she'd heard the deep sighs and felt the sadness puddling at the boy's feet, she'd looked to see what young Kenobi was looking at that was so very painful. She nodded. “I wondered.”
Qui-gon rested his hand on her shoulder, squeezing softly. “He will be fine, in time.”
---
“Master Qui-gon!” Both Padawans lept to their feet.
“Hello, lads, hello.” He clapped hands on a shoulder of each. He started with the one who wasn't his. “The council asked me to tell you that Master Mundi won't be out of the bacta for several weeks, perhaps a month. But he will survive and he will walk again when he does. Do not be too hard on yourself, the Onaka Pirates are very dangerous- you got ambushed, but you saved his life and you got him back to the Temple. That is all I'd have been able to do, to.”
He turned to his student, still holding both of the friends. “And they've denied your request, Obi-wan. I'm sorry. They say that you are not ready to take the Challenge and become a Knight. After this protective mission, I'm surprised, but they say you still have more to learn.”
Obi-wan looked down, scowling. “Of course, Master. You and the Council know better than me.”
“No, Obi, the Council knows better than both of us it seems. I am for you taking this next step.” He turned back to his Padawan's friend. “And they feel you need to learn more, specifically about diplomatic missions.”
“”Yes, sir”” the two young men chorused without meaning to. It only took a few minutes for their minds to synchronize, even if their teachers couldn't say how other than it wasn't the Force.
“We have another mission. There is time to bathe and change clothes, and get something to eat, then we must be off. This is a very important mission.” Qui-gon's hands slipped free before he turned, heading to the steps. He felt his Padawan follow him up the stairs, and across the landing. The Jedi Master stopped at the door into the Temple itself and turned to side on to the lads. “Both of you are to accompany me- until Master Mudi is able to be your Master, I am to have two Padawans.”
The boys looked at each other- in a thousand generations, there was a precedent for almost everything. But it had been generations since a Master had had two Padawans. Both of them smiled despite themselves- no matter what happened, a mission with your best friend wouldn't be boring.
“Right away, Master!” The lanky Padawan used the Force to enhance his jump, clearing the flowering bushes planted along the edge of the landing with a roll in midair and to land with ease. “Where are we going, Master?”
“Naboo. It seems that the Trade Federation is trying to blockade them over a tax dispute or some such foolishness. They're getting quite stubborn, and accidents do happen.”
“Accidents would be unfortunate.”
The fair Red's face shown concern. “Are we going there to fight?”
“No Obi-wan. We are there to negotiate.”
“But what if the negotiations don't work?”
The dark Red's voice was even. “Then we'll have to negotiate aggressively, Red.”
“And I hope, Maul, that it does not come to that. I couldn't ask for finer young men to watch my back if that happens, but these Federation types are cowards. They'll concede quickly.” Qui-gon refused the urge to turn around; he did let himself smile, just a little. “If we are successful, we aren't that far from where Master Narec is. As he and his Padawan are overdue they may welcome our assistance, if not our company.”
---
Far away, on a shelf made of stone not unlike another one half a galaxy away, another man aged beyond his years thrashed in his sleep, fighting. Fighting his past, his ghosts. Fighting the torture of his dreams.
Maul sat up with a gasp, his hand outstretched even before his eyes opened. There was a pair of hisses, one the pop-hiss of a lightsaber. The other came from between gritted teeth, “Kenobi.”
Maul hated it when the Dark Side teased him. Taunted him. Tortured him with these false memories, these pathetic dreams about what might have been. Or maybe it was the Light, burning him in punishment. Taunting him like throwing a short rope to a drowning man. “Kenobi!”