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Ahsoka can’t believe she was put into timeout. Jedi timeout.
Of course, that’s not what Master Fila called it--she had insisted that putting Ahsoka in one of the rarely-used meditation rooms in the Temple was simply a chance for her to “ meditate on her actions today ”, but when she had warned her not to leave until her Master came to get her upon the threat of further punishment, Ahsoka knew what it was--a timeout.
She shifted on the cushion upon which she sat on the floor, its stuffing packed down over the years and providing little buffer between her and the hard wooden floor. It wasn’t fair--Jax Uriah was a di’kut who deserved exactly what he’d got! He’d hated her ever since they’d been placed in a clan together, jealous that she always did better than him in their saber classes. Sure, this probably wasn’t what the clones had intended when they had started teaching her hand-to-hand combat skills, but if they heard what happened, she was sure they’d be on her side.
She sighed as she stared ahead at the plain, cream-colored walls that surrounded her. It had been a half-hour since she’d been left in here, according to her internal chronometer, and Anakin still hadn’t come to pick her up. Part of her worried that he might be mad, but she tried to push those feelings down. He’d done worse since she’d known him, and she was only defending herself, so he couldn’t be too upset. No, he would take her home, give her a half-hearted lecture on impulse control that was exactly as hypocritical as it sounded, and then they’d grab dinner at the refectory.
Especially once she told him that Master Fila assigned her a five-page essay on the history of non-violent problem-solving in the Jedi Order as punishment...then, he might even take pity on her.
Ahsoka worried at a loose thread on her leggings, bored out of her mind. She was meant to be meditating, but this room was too quiet and still--she’d always focused better in activity rather than silence. Instead, she counted the minutes in her head as they passed, waiting to be freed from her prison.
After what seemed like an age, the door opened. She looked up, surprised to see Obi-Wan standing in front of her with a frown on his face.
“Master Kenobi!” She said quickly, “Where’s Anakin? I thought—”
“Your Master is currently outside the Temple on an errand for the Chancellor,” he cut her off. “You can imagine my surprise when my council meeting was interrupted by a notification that my Grandpadawan broke her classmate’s nose and needed to be picked up from school like a disobedient youngling.”
The chastisement stung. To be quite honest, Ahsoka had always been intimidated by Obi-Wan. Anakin was very easy to read, displaying his emotions on his sleeve, and she had grown comfortable in his presence the more time they spent together--but Obi-Wan was different. He was much more guarded, and his reputation in the Temple was unmatched. Sith-slayer, expert negotiator, esteemed general, one of the finest swordsmen of the Order, and a council member. And she had just taken him away from his important duties because of a schoolyard fight. Guilt flooded her, and she hung her head, not able to meet his eyes. “I’m sorry, Master.”
“For interrupting my meeting? Perhaps. Though I have the feeling you’re not sorry for the violence. But we’ll talk about it when we get home—come along.”
She rose from her cushion and fell into step obediently behind Obi-Wan, not daring to look up at the faces of anyone they passed as they moved through the Temple. Her lightsaber was hanging off of her Grandmaster’s belt, and it would be obvious to anyone paying attention that she was in trouble.
If they didn’t already know, of course. Gossip spread like wildfire here.
She was surprised when Obi-Wan led her to his quarters instead of the ones she shared with Anakin. She had only been in his quarters a handful of times, and never without the company of her own Master. They were simple but comfortable, much like Obi-Wan himself, and certainly unlike the controlled chaos Anakin and Ahsoka called home.
“Sit,” he commanded, gesturing to the dining table. She pulled out one of the wooden chairs and sat, folding her arms on the tabletop and dropping her head into them.
“I’m very disappointed in you, Padawan,” she heard her Grandmaster say as he retreated further into his quarters. Looking for something, it sounded like, but his voice still carried. “You know you must never let your emotions overwhelm you to the point of violence.”
“Yes, Master,” she said with an appropriate amount of remorse in her voice. But he was in lecture mode and didn’t even acknowledge her acknowledgment.
“Furthermore, you don’t get much time to complete your studies in the Temple these days, so the time you spend here is very valuable. When you cause disruptions like this, you not only do yourself a disservice but also your teachers and classmates. Your education is important, Ahsoka.”
“Yes, Master,” Ahsoka repeated. She felt a headache coming on. She just wanted to go back to her room and sleep.
“Do you have anything else to say for yourself, young lady?”
“He provoked me!” she tried to defend, raising her head just in time to see him disappear into the kitchen. She started to feel irritated that he couldn’t even bother to be in the room while chastising her. “Doesn’t that count for anything?”
“That only means you must be the better person. Rise above your impulses and control your emotions.”
The events from earlier flashed through her mind once more, and with them came a fresh wave of anger and hurt. “No,” she said quietly.
“Excuse me?”
“No, I won’t! Not after what he said. I’m not sorry I hit him, and I’m not sorry his nose got broken.” she closed her eyes, trying to focus on her breathing. She’d just snapped at Obi-Wan Kenobi , but if she just didn’t think about it too hard--
“Ahsoka, look at me,” he instructed, voice sounding remarkably closer than it had been a moment ago. Reluctantly, she complied only to find him sitting in front of her, an open jar of bacta gel on the table in front of him. He reached out and placed one hand under her chin to steady her while the fingers of the other dipped into the jar of bacta. She furrowed her brow for a moment, and he explained. “You have a black eye.”
And oh. That made sense. She hadn’t seen herself in a mirror since the fight, but Jax had managed to get in a lucky hit before he was dragged off to the Halls of Healing, and her face had been aching ever since. Her grandmaster began massaging the gel into the delicate skin around her eye, touch exceedingly gentle, and the gesture was so unexpected and so tender that she could feel tears welling up. She struggled to force them back.
“I can sense the turmoil in you, Padawan,” he said in a measured tone. “What in the galaxy did this boy say to put you in such a state?”
Suddenly, she felt her face heat up and her lekku flush with embarrassment and shame. She wanted to pull away, but Obi-Wan’s grip was firm. “He…he said…”
“Yes?” Obi-Wan prodded, smoothing out the bacta. Ahsoka diverted her eyes downward, staring fixedly at a chip in the tabletop. She hated how quiet and insecure her voice had suddenly become.
“He said I’d only been assigned to Master Skywalker to keep his bed warm—”
“What? ”
Ahsoka’s gaze jerked up at the exclamation. In all her years at the temple, even before she was officially introduced to him, Obi-Wan Kenobi was the example of calm and composure. Even in the midst of battle, he hardly ever looked panicked or frazzled, the perfect Jedi through and through. But now, his lips were pressed into a hard line, his eyes flaming, and for just a second, when she brushed out to his Force presence, she felt something like anger lingering there.
Then, it was all gone in a flash. He had released his emotions into the Force and was composed once more. “That is extremely inappropriate,” he told her. “You can be assured I will be having words with his Master about that.”
“But he has a point--”
“Ahsoka Tano!”
“Not about that!” she quickly amended. She sunk down in her chair. “It’s just...I was assigned. No one ever wanted me. I don’t really have many friends in my clan. They all think I’m loud and bossy, and then they all started being chosen by Masters and I wasn’t… I was about to be sent on a ship to the AgriCorps until Master Yoda assigned me to Anakin. And I know he didn’t really want me either, but--”
“Stop, little one,” Obi-Wan held up a hand, cutting her off. At that same moment, the whistle of a hot kettle sounded through the air. Obi-Wan looked over his shoulder toward the kitchen, then back to her. “Would you like some tea?”
Hoping it could soothe the lump that had suddenly appeared in her throat, Ahsoka nodded. Obi-Wan stood and left the table, returning just a minute later with two steaming mugs. Ahsoka blew at the mug before taking a sip, surprised to find that it was sweetened exactly how she liked it. She hadn’t realized Obi-Wan remembered her tea preferences.
“I want you to listen to me, Ahsoka,” he said, voice as serious as she’d ever heard it. “Yes, you were assigned. And yes, it was unexpected. But I’ve known Anakin for most of his life, and I can tell you with certainty that he wouldn’t have anyone else as his padawan.”
He sounded so sincere, it made her stomach do a little flip.
“You aren’t loud and bossy,” he continued. “You’re headstrong, courageous, and a gifted Jedi who has not only taken on more responsibility during this war than could ever reasonably be expected, but who has excelled in doing so. Your master is very proud of you--as am I.”
Ahsoka looked down at her mug, hoping the steam curling up from it would be able to disguise the tears that were once again threatening to come to her eyes. Hesitantly, she reached out in the Force, and Obi-Wan projected nothing but warmth, affection, and pride. “Thank you, Master.”
“Never doubt that you are wanted, my dear.” He reached out across the table, took her hand in his, and squeezed it. “Now, how about we finish our tea and then spend some time meditating on those emotions, hmm?”
Some hours later, Anakin entered his old Master’s quarters to find Obi-Wan and Ahsoka on the couch, a holovid playing quietly in the background. She was curled into her Grandmaster’s side, her head pressed against his shoulder, fast asleep. Obi-Wan had one arm wrapped around her, and he was absentmindedly stroking her padawan beads in the same way he used to do with Anakin’s braid.
Everything okay? Anakin mouthed, doing his best not to wake his padawan. Obi-Wan’s comm informing him of her location had been brief on details. Obi-Wan simply nodded and, at Anakin’s questioning look, smiled gently and gestured to the couch space on his other side. Anakin didn’t hesitate in settling down next to his Master, resting his cheek against his shoulder.
Obi-Wan sighed and relaxed into the comforting presences of his lineage. And for a single moment in a war-torn galaxy, everything truly did feel okay.