Chapter Text
Gallen Kraik looked at his men and grinned. A good haul sat in front of them, ripe for the taking. He led the way forward. There was nothing between them and the crates but the precautionary smoke they’d vented into the captured ship.
Nothing but…
A man.
Gallen scowled at the form taking shape through the smoke. The man was alone, standing between the pirates and the crates. His stance was confident, his arms folded across his chest. The pirate almost thought he could be the senator that owned the ship, but that particular senator was supposed to be female and timid…
“Your exit is in the other direction,” the man said calmly.
Gallen’s frown deepened with annoyance, but he stopped as he got close enough to make out more detail. The humanoid’s drab clothing and slight frame was countered by his stance and the patch covering one eye.
“Sure, we’ll leave that way,” Gallen said agreeably. “An’ we’ll be takin’ the crates with us.”
“I don’t think so,” the man said. “Leave while you can.”
“Or what?” one of the pirates asked over his leader’s shoulder.
The man sighed. “Or my lightsaber will get involved. I really hoped we would be able to solve this civilly.”
The pirate would have laughed in other circumstances. “Lightsaber?” he asked. “You a Jedi?”
The human unfolded his arms, revealing a metal bar previously hidden by his clothing. It flipped from the man's side to his hand as if of its own accord. A thrum of energy made the pirate’s back spines tingle. A shaft of humming blue light extended from the man’s hand, harshly illuminating the dark hollow where there was supposed to be an eye. The tissue behind it was raw, and the pirate found himself begrudgingly respecting the man for enduring whatever procedure had caused the scarring wound.
He backed away from the dangerous weapon in the man’s hand. “Weren’t supposed to be anyone here,” he said. “We weren’t going to hurt no one.”
“Pleased to hear it,” the Jedi said. He didn’t lower his weapon. His stance was solid as a rock but poised with a warrior’s skill.
Gallen hesitated, calculating if there were enough of his men ready and if they would be able to take down the Jedi before the Jedi got him.
“It’s not worth it,” the Jedi said, as if reading his thoughts.
That did it. Gallen would do a lot of things to turn a profit, but a Jedi and his uncanny abilities was too much. Especially one that looked like he could claw his way out of a scrap. The pirate bobbed his head in agreement. Tipping his hat, he began edging backwards. “We’ll just be leaving, then.”
“Good.” The Jedi seemed content to let them leave, and Gallen wasn’t about to wait around for hi to change his mind. He kept his men moving back the way they’d come, shoving when needed.
“Oh, and captain,” the Jedi called to the pirate’s retreating back. “Let’s not cross paths like this again.”
“Of course not,” the pirate agreed hastily.
Obi-wan kept his head turned so that he could watch the pirates leave. For once things had actually gone as planned, and the pirates were leaving without incident. He waited until he felt their ship detach before he truly relaxed.
His shoulders slumped as his lightsaber deactivated. He wasn’t sure which hurt worse—standing on his feet, or taking the weight off them once he had.
He turned to go back to the room provided for him on the transport, but nearly ran nose first into one of the stacks of crates. Sighing, he reached out with the Force and with his hands. With his hand outstretched, he walked between the stacks of crates, then took shorter steps until his fingers brushed the walls leading him back to his room.
His assignment was simple; get the senator’s supplies safely to Coruscant. It was an easy mission, and he was grateful they’d let him do something other than stare at the wall of the Halls of Healing or fill out reports. Yet he couldn’t deny that he was exhausted. The pain lay dormant, only to flare to incredible heights at random intervals.
Or not so random, he realized as he nearly stubbed his toes on the chair. It was hard not to flinch at the pain that would cause on his tender, scarred feet.
He plopped into the chair and ran his hands down his face, over his hair.
"And I highly doubt that you are concerned for my health."
“I am concerned that you are not.”
“Don’t pretend you care.”
“I do not have to pretend.”
Pain. Slight, compared to what he had endured when Dooku had held him in the Citadel. It brought him back to where he leaned against the small table, fingers clutching and knotting in his hair. He released the hold slowly.
The undercurrents of his conversation with Dooku were layered. Always so carefully layered. Threat and warning. Condescension and praise. Always hinting, but never giving any real information. It was masterful elegance, just like the man himself. Obi-wan could admit that. The man was precise. Every word was chosen meticulously. So what, with all the contradictions and hidden meanings, was Dooku really trying to say?
Obi-wan reached for the cup he’d just finished preparing when he sensed the pirates approaching. With the amount of time it had taken him to get to and from the hold, the tea should be cool by now.
Of course, it was right at that moment that his commlink chirped. He glanced at the device. It was Anakin’s channel. He wiped the weary expression from his face with a pass of his hand before answering the call. A miniature version of Anakin rose out of the small holo.
“Hello, Master.”
“Hello, Anakin.”
His former apprentice folded his arms. “We reclaimed the moons of Jetta and additional forces are on their way to help us reclaim the planet.”
“Excellent work,” Obi-wan said with a smile. “Let us hope the momentum continues in our favor.”
“It will,” Anakin said. He then tempered his arrogance a little. “Master Unduli is coming to help coordinate. We’ll be fine.” There was a pause. Obi-wan caught the pitying look on his young Knight’s face. “Are…you?”
“Of course I am,” Obi-wan said automatically. “I am recovering very well.”
Anakin nodded in a way that told Obi-wan he didn’t believe the statement. “Good,” he said, letting his voice trail off.
Obi-wan sighed, knowing his former padawan wasn’t going to believe him. “Truly,” he insisted. “I lost an eye, Anakin, not my health.”
Anakin’s look was not impressed. “You lost an eye,” he repeated, changing he emphasis on the sentence. “Master, that’s not easy to adjust to. It’s a sensitive area, and it takes a while to heal! Not to mention the adjustments to perception and coordination.”
Obi-wan sat up straighter. “I’m fine,” he said slowly, trying not to let his voice sharpen. “I’m using the eyedrops Commander Wolfe recommended. I’m doing everything the Healers asked. As for adjustments, I still have the Force, Anakin. And it’s not like I lost a limb.”
Anakin’s metal fingers twitched at the reference. “You lost half your visual field.”
“I also have the Force to make up for it,” Obi-wan insisted. He reached for the cup of tea sitting just inside his new blind spot, needing something to hold on to, something to do with his hands. “My coordination is completely normal.”
The cup was not quite where he thought it was. His fingers knocked against it and he fumbled, trying to catch the teetering vessel. Hot tea splashed onto his hand. Reflexes caused his hand to yank back from the scalding liquid and a low sound of shock and dismay bubbled in his throat as the contents of his cup rolled down his wrist, soaked his sleeve, dripped from the table onto his lap.
He registered the scalding heat but didn’t move. His remaining eye stared at the light brown tea coating the top of the table as if it were now a personal affront.
“I…” Words stuck in the Jedi’s throat.
“Master,” Anakin said gently. The small holo figure removed the glove covering his metal fingers. “Do you remember what you told me when I first lost my arm?”
Obi-wan could remember that time, of course. There were endless hours of working with Anakin in exercises, relearning coordination as his mind adjusted to working with a machine. There were also several conversations where Anakin had expressed his frustrations. He had no idea which one might be referring to, and he squashed the kernel of irritation. He shook his head.
“I still had the Force, too,” Anakin reminded him. “But it still took me a while to relearn it. You told me that losing part of my arm meant that my connection with the Force was different now. Losing my arm changed me, my energy, so it changed my connection with Midichlorians and the Force. So it was only natural that it would take time to get comfortable with it again.” The younger Jedi paused to let that sink in.
Obi-wan frowned slightly. “Losing an arm if far more significant than losing an eye.”
Anakin folded his arms. “I disagree. It’s a big part of you. We don’t think about it, but we actually really on our sight a lot, even with the Force.”
“I suppose that’s true,” Obi-wan agreed reluctantly.
“It’s… kind of like when I first saw Padme again. After so long, I still knew her, but I was different than last time we met. Your connection with the Force will be like that.”
“Not nearly as awkward, I hope,” Obi-wan murmured, pushing back from the table and looking around for something to clean up the mess.
“What?” Anakin asked.
Obi-wan cleared his throat. “Nothing. I said, thank you, that’s hopeful.”
Anakin smiled brightly. “Of course. You’re always good at being patient with everyone else, Obi-wan. Be patient with yourself, too.”
Obi-wan paused in wiping down the table. He blinked rapidly, then glanced down at the small form of Anakin standing above his wrist. “So you were listening to me,” he said.
Anakin laughed, the blue form wavering. “Occasionally.” His laughter died down, and then he sighed. “Just… rest for a while, alright? You don’t have to be working all the time. Just do nothing for a bit. You’ll feel better.”
Obi-wan nodded distantly, the words sparking memory of Dooku’s taunts.
I must admit I do not understand how one such as you can be so ignorant and unrefined. It concerns me that you did not listen the last time you were in this position. You did nothing.
You did nothing.
You did nothing.
“…Anyway, I’ve got to go. Later, master.”
And just like that, Anakin was gone, leaving Obi-wan in the spiral of nothings echoing around his head.
Gallen Kraik surveyed his men. They were unsettled. Not only had they lost the loot they'd been promised, but they'd come face to face with a Jedi. The peacekeepers were supposed to be occupied with the war, not interfering with Gallen's business.
"Ne'er thought I'd see the day when we run from one man," someone grumbled.
Gallen couldn't let that slide. He swung around, his back spines bristling. "If yeh're so disappointed an' sure you can take 'im, take a ship and go back," he snapped. "We'll come get the ship later, if there's anything left of it."
The pirate snorted. The weequay crossed his arms and took a wider stance. "Yeah? What makes you so sure we'd lose?"
Gallen stepped closer to the weequay, making him look up to keep eye contact. The defiance was mostly bluster, he could see that, but Gallen needed to take charge. "That one man was a Jedi," he growled. "Yeh saw the lightsaber same as I did. Do yeh know much about Jedi?"
"Fighters, but not undefeatable," the pirate answered. His hand was hovering over his blaster as Gallen inched closer again. "We had the numbers. 'e'd be dead."
Gallen remembered the feeling of power emanating off the man, the certainly. The grizzling scars around the eye, the fainter scars just visible through the smoke. The Jedi had been through a tough scrap of some sort, and he'd come out still fighting.
"Not that one," he said. He was sure of that. Gallen was good at sizing up a situation and sizing up potential threats. It kept him alive in his line of work. "Didja notice the way he stood? He wasn't afraid of any of us, not even all of us." His stare was flat, and he could see the challenge bleeding out of the other pirate's eyes. "He'd of fought, all right. By the looks of 'im he already had, an' he won't quit fighting any time soon."
The pirate deliberately turned his back, addressing the rest of the men. "We don't want to cross that one. There's fortune elsewhere, an' no sense wasting time here."
Obi-wan leaned back in the chair, thinking on everything his grandmaster had said, both on Geonosis and at the Citadel. The clues pointed towards several prominent figures, and the longer Obi-wan thought about it, the more uneasy he became.
To act on the conclusions would have… irreparable consequences. He could not act rashly, which is why the Council had not acted after Geonosis. They needed to be sure, and so far they had found no sure evidence.
He had to be sure.
But there was one place he could get sure evidence. It was dangerous, yes, and risky.
For Obi-wan, the possible consequences of doing nothing far outweighed those risks. Nevermind that he was supposed to be resting, or sleeping again. Sleep was a temporary mercy anyway.
Obi-wan reached for his comm and began tuning the channels. He needed to make several calls.