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“Do you…” Satine looked over, but Obi-Wan only shook his head. “Forgive me, Duchess. A foolish thought.”
“A foolish thought?” Satine smiled. “I never thought you’d admit to such a thing.”
He smiled back, weakly, and returned to stoking the campfire.
There was only so much silence Satine could take before it started to worry her. Obi-Wan could be quiet, yes; quiet and contemplative, serene and meditative, a thousand other things that were soft and still. None of these things, however, hung in the air like this silence, heavy and awkward and suffocating, and Satine had had just about enough.
She slid over to Obi-Wan’s smile, noting the tired smile he gave her, how gently he reached over and squeezed her hand.
“Something’s wrong,” she said, stroking a thumb over her knuckles. “I know something’s wrong, Obi. You can tell me.”
“It’s-” He squeezed his eyes shut. “Force, it’s just so… stupid.”
There was nothing to do but wait for him. Hold his hand and wait for him to gather his thoughts.
“When… When we were in the village,” he said, more than a little stilted, his eyes focussed on their joined hands, “I heard… I heard people talking. About Jedi.”
Oh dear.
“I- I know better . I know better than to let it bother me.” He managed a wry smile. “I’ve been with the Order since I was three years old - of course I know better.”
Oh hells.
“I…” He sighed. “I just…”
Satine leaned into his side - he put an arm around her almost instinctively, resting his cheek against her head.
“I heard what they said, and I was afraid that…”
“You were afraid I thought the same.”
The silence was telling.
After a moment, Obi-Wan pressed a kiss to her hair. “I’m sorry,” he said. Quietly.
“Don’t be,” she whispered. Quieter.
“We’re not…” He swallowed. “We’re not monsters. Or baby-snatchers. Or any of the rest. I swear it.”
“Oh, Ben…” She shifted just enough to pull him into a hug. “I know you’re not, alright? I know.”