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The quiet corridors of the Jedi temple remind Obi-Wan that these halls are not truly those of his childhood. In his youth, they were filled with laughing Padawans, smirking Knights, and the musings of Masters.
That time is over. At least, for now. Though, Obi-Wan is unsure he’ll ever see it that way again. He mourns for it and for all those lost to the war.
The Jedi, as a whole, are not gone, however. Obi-Wan’s lineage, for instance, still lives and breathes and they continue in the war effort all the while completely avoiding him . He has come to terms with this just as they have, but he cannot help but feel the solitude in its extremes when he walks through the empty halls of his home.
A soft mournful sound stops Obi-Wan in his tracks. The sound comes from around the corner and Obi-Wan can tell it is someone softly crying. It is an odd sound to hear in these halls, but not unwarranted given everything that has happened and continues to happen.
Before Obi-Wan can round the corner and offer comfort to whatever poor soul needs it right now, footsteps, heavy and sure, come running through the hall.
“Snips!” Anakin’s voice calls. “Ahsoka, what’s wrong? Are you hurt?” His voice goes quieter with the question — laced with nervous energy and concern.
Obi-Wan’s heart leaps and he presses himself to the wall.
He should go. Ahsoka does not want to see him and Anakin, well, Anakin has made it clear he would have preferred Obi-Wan stayed dead.
“I’m fine, Master,” Ahsoka says. “Nothing’s wrong.”
Obi-Wan grimaces. Whether she speaks to him or not, there is no denying Ahsoka is a part of his lineage.
“Snips,” Anakin says. “Don’t lie to me. Tell me what’s wrong.”
The cries turn to sobs and Obi-Wan wishes he could just go to her.
“Everything’s all messed up,” Ahsoka says between hiccupping breaths.
“I know. Our last campaign was tough, but I—”
“No!” Ahsoka says. “You know what I’m talking about.”
If their bond was still open, Obi-Wan knows he would have felt Anakin’s rage — white-hot and burning — pushing up against him. Their bond, however, has been closed since Obi-Wan “died.” Even resurrection could not bring it back.
“You won’t even talk to him,” Ahsoka sobs.
“He betrayed me, Ahsoka. He betrayed us . Everyone that’s ever cared about him, he betrayed.”
“I’m the one who felt him die in my arms,” Ahsoka says sharply. Obi-Wan bites his lip until he tastes copper. “I’m angry and you should be too, but Master, he’s alive . That’s what matters, is it not?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Anakin says.
A slap in the face would have stung less.
“How could it not matter?” Ahsoka cries.
“You don’t get it , Ahsoka,” Anakin snaps. “He’s my Master. He used our bond against me and I— I don’t know how I can move past that.”
“I care about him too, you know?” Ahsoka says after a long and heavy silence. “If you were in his position I would just be happy that you were alive.”
“I would never be in his position. I would never betray you like this. Not ever.”
“Even if it meant protecting others? Even if it meant securing our win for the war?”
“No. I would never make you go through this.” Anakin does not hesitate. He’s never been the type to do so, and even still, his convictions manage to surprise Obi-Wan.
Ahsoka sniffs and Anakin sighs. “I’m sorry Snips. I’m sorry he’s putting you through this.”
“It is not just him,” Ahsoka says bitterly.
Anakin stutters like he’s thinking of some retort, but small, light footsteps take off down the hallway.
“Snips, wait!” Heavier footsteps thunder after hers.
In another time, Obi-Wan might have followed them both, but now he simply turns around and heads back for his quarters.
He can’t remember where he was going anyway.