Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Fire.

Heat.

Then-

Nothing.

(The cold touch of skin)

The ground swelling beneath him.

Metal. Flesh. 

The sound of a ship engine. 

Blaster fire. Someone shouting. 

A crash

Hiss-snap

Fear extinguishing the pain for just a single moment. Then agony again. 

The outline of a small hand in his. 

A young voice, Ben, Ben, please

Tears falling like the drizzle of rain against tattered cloth and aching skin

He tries to open his mouth to speak. He can’t.

Master, please

There is only silence

There is only-

Darkness

-_-_-_-_-

He jolts awake, breath heaving. His vision blurs. He can’t see, why can’t he see, it aches, it hurts to even look, a voice - a familiar voice - speaks in a low urgent tone but Obi-Wan can’t make out the words. 

The trickle of water slides down his throat. 

He drinks mechanically.

Memory is pliable, he knows this. It passes by in flashes and for a moment, his vision tints in red. 

Fire. A glowing red visor.

His breath hitches. 

Leia.

Where is Leia?

The thought barely crosses his mind before a pair of hands grip him and Obi-Wan loses it completely. 

He lashes out blindly. 

He strikes with every ounce of strength he has left in him, his hands forming into fists and slamming into the person hovering over him. There is a sharp oof, the sound of footsteps stumbling backwards, and Obi-Wan stands on unsteady feet. He thinks he hears a noise behind him, but his elbow only meets empty air and he staggers, almost toppling over in the process.

It hurts to concentrate on any one thing. The room spins.

Awareness hurts, everything hurts, and he has no choice but to take that desperation to protect Leia and uses it. The Force is a severed limb that he himself had cut and made himself live without. Now, he pays that price. 

He breathes. Goes still.

“Obi-Wan, it’s me!” 

Nobody should know that name. He buried that person on Tatooine ten years ago. 

The sound of a crash nearby slams panic into him. He almost doesn’t realise it when he backs himself into a wall, shaking violently. But then he stumbles over something, and the next thing he knows, his hand is closing in around a long cylindrical object. The metal is warm to the touch, it hums, a familiar tune but all he knows is the pain of loss, of grief, of things better left buried in the sand and never unearthed. 

He nearly drops it. 

But he doesn’t.

He presses the ignition and a light springs up into the air like a flame.

It’s supposed to be blue.

All he sees is red.

Running footsteps.

Urgent shouts. That same familiar voice that brings back memories that hurt even worse than the ones that he fears because it is a reminder of everything he has lost. Metal thudding on metal again, a slow mechanical whir, and all Obi-Wan knows is the rust in his mouth and the heavy breathing of a creature more machine than man. 

I am what you made me

He has dreamt of fire so many times. Now to even touch the light inside burns.

“Obi-Wan.” The voice comes again, pleading, gentle. 

The haze abates. He regains enough of himself to see that the shadow cast on the walls is not the flow of a cape, that the sound of machines is from the generator somewhere in the distance and not Anak- him.

The lightsaber deactivates. It falls from his limp grasp.

“Quinlan.” He says dully.

“Hey, Obi-Wan.” Quinlan Vos says, so very tired, but still there is the hint of a grin in his eyes. “That was one hell of a greeting.”

Obi-Wan studies his friend. Can't stop seeing the spark that he still carries inside of him. He thinks of that Jedi on Tatooine - Nari - Force, he had been so young, he would have been a child when the Purge happened. Another person that Obi-Wan could have helped but didn't. It was too late now. 

Regrets and mistakes - that's all he ever carried.

(You never know what you had until it's gone)

He looks at Quinlan and thinks-

I’m glad you’re alive, gets caught in his throat. 

So does, I’m sorry. 

Because he can't be the person that Quinlan wanted him to be.

No more than a relic of the past. Of a dying era. 

“Leia.” Obi-Wan says instead. Swallows hard. “Where’s- where’s the girl?”

Quinlan’s expression falls.

Obi-Wan stops breathing.

“No, I-” He says, distantly, barely aware of the tears building behind his eyes. “I felt her. She was here, she called me, I told Tala to take her and escape.”

“Tala saved you.” Quinlan says carefully. “Listen, Obi, Leia’s not here but we do know where she is. One of the Inquisitors have her. But we’ll get her back. I promise you, we’ll get her back.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” Obi-Wan pressed his knuckles against his mouth, desperately trying to hold back the sob that he could feel building in his throat. “Tala- Tala was supposed to help her escape. Not come back for me. I made my choice!” 

Quinlan’s gaze travels to his shoulder, heavily-bandaged. “You would have died.” He says, lips set into a thin, firm line.

“I. don’t. care. Not if it meant that Leia-”

“Don’t ask me to lose you too.” Quinlan cut in, “ Don’t.”

Obi-Wan stares at him for a long while. Unbidden, his lips twist into a sardonic smile. “Then I guess it's better to ask for forgiveness than permission.”

He turns away. He wants to run, but he's been running for so long now that he is exhausted. He grips the edge of the entrance - parts of the tent flapping in the arid breeze. He catches a glimpse of more barren land beyond, still charred by blaster fire. Recognition is a sharp flash of even more suppressed memory.

Jabiim.

He’d ‘died’ here, after all.

The dead stay dead. He holds onto the ghosts in his heart and refuses to let go and so the light burns him. 

Burns him.

It burns.

-_-_-_-_-

I am what you made me

Vader’s words. Anakin’s.

A monster of Obi-Wan’s own making. Left to suffer and languish in the flames of Mustafar for an eternity. When the connection between them had flickered into place for just a moment, he felt Vader’s pain as if it were his own. The husk of a person. Always struggling to breathe even when there are no lungs.

Vader is nothing but a wound still bleeding red into the Force

Red.

Blood. Fire.

(Why is it always, always fire?)

He touches the side of his arm. The wounds are still fresh, raw, and a sharp spasm of pain rocks through the nerves as he does so. Cuts and bruises and scrapes - all of it could heal. It was inconsequential. It did not mean anything to him - not the pain, because it is something that he has learnt to get used to for so long now. 

This is what he tells himself.

(Liar)

Didn’t matter.

Only Leia did.

He needed to find Leia and bring her back to her family on Alderaan. She was counting on him. Bail. Breha. He could not fail them.

He had to- he had to keep going.

One last fight.

He stood to his feet, and started to limp. The ship that had brought them here - it had to be somewhere. He scanned the horizon, eyes sharp, determining where would be the most likely spot. He looked for any sign of civilization, but only saw a thin trail of smoke in the distance. 

He debated with himself, conflicted.

“Ben? ”

A child’s voice. Scared.

Obi-Wan whirled around, heart leaping in his chest. 

But he saw nothing. No one.

His fingers clenched.

“I’m coming, Leia.” He murmured feverishly to the wind, his mind set.

The whistle of a breath. The barely audible thud of toes landing against the rock behind him. Obi-Wan doesn’t even have to turn around.

“Not without me you don’t.” Quinlan pointed an accusing finger. “See? I just knew you were going to run off. Probably steal my spaceship, and then fly off to rescue that kid of yours. Without even saying goodbye!”

“Quinlan.”

“Obi-Wan.”

They glared at each other.

The sun was setting. He watched as Quinlan’s silhouette grew sharper, and the shadow he cast faded. 

It felt so very cold.

“Fine.” Obi-Wan said reluctantly, at last. “But no delays. We go now."

Chapter Text

Going back to Mapuzo is the equivalent of suicide, which is why Quinlan vetoes the idea even before either of them can bring it up. 

Obi-Wan sets his jaw into a firm clench, and says nothing.

Vos knows him too well. Obi-Wan suspected that it was part of the problem in the first place. Transparency was certainly one word for it, even if it was an unwilling participation. Still. He pulls back from the flicker of resentment with a mental sigh. Perhaps he is being too harsh.

Regardless, it is a frustrating fact of life, one that Obi-Wan thinks can be blamed for leading up to this moment - sitting in the cramped cockpit of a freighter ship about to head into hyperspace, the endless void all around. The metal of the ship shudders; Obi-Wan resists the urge to grimace. He’s put up with worse before. 

He watches as the light refracts against the glass. He tries not to stare too hard at Quinlan, but- there’s just this part of him that is scared that if he even blinks, everything will disappear. Every part of him feels inconsequential. Like he could just float away at any moment and no one would realise. No one would care.

He’d forgotten how cold space was.

He picks at the bacta patches against his side absent-mindedly. It tingles. Bacta is a luxury that he has resigned himself to never having, especially not with his lifestyle on Tatooine. 

Quinlan catches him, with a sideways glance. He sets the hyperdrive coordinates and makes the jump. Stars bend and warp around them, passing by in a trail of colour. He sprawls out over the captain’s seat, legs crossed over the console. “Stop that.” He chides. “It needs to heal.”

“You’re one to talk.” Obi-Wan grumbles back, his arms over his chest in a defensive position. 

And then there’s that blasted medical droid waiting for him at the back of the ship. 

In hindsight, Obi-Wan really should have known better. 

“Obi-Wan, meet 2-1B.” Quinlan stands on his toes and slung an arm around the droid. He shoots a wide grin that sends Obi-Wan’s heart sinking to the floor. “Meet your new best friend.”

He starts to back away immediately, face twisting into protest, “Quinlan, really, this is not necessary-”

“I took the effort of typing in all of your medical data - you’re welcome, by the way. Because you still need to keep an eye on those burns, Obi-Wan. Bacta only does so much.”

"It does enough." Obi-Wan argued, glancing at the medical droid in despair. 

The machinery whirred; the tip of a hypospray.

“I’ll leave you two to get acquainted.” Quinlan drapes a hand over Obi-Wan’s terse shoulder. “I’ll be in the cockpit. Holler if you need anything.” And then he is gone as quickly as he appeared.

The door slides shut behind him.

“Quinlan!” Obi-Wan shouts in frustration, muffled.

-_-_-_-_-

Quinlan steadies himself with a palm pressed against the wall of the ship’s hull, and makes himself breath. Trust in the Force. He repeats it like a mantra, unwilling to let go, unable to forget, until it becomes the only thought echoing around in his mind. His legs felt weak, but the relief overwhelmed his physical senses. He felt lighter than he had been in- ages. 

It’s worth it, he decides. It has to be.

Because Obi-Wan is here .

He stops by the galley on the way. Pulls out a ration bar from one of the cabinets and forces himself to nibble. 

It sits heavy in his gut.

He wished he could say that he was getting used to it, but he did not.  

Quinlan checks his wristlink again. It was quiet. No reply. His parting words to Tala, may the Force be with you , her solemn nod, his own anxiety and worry kept at bay by the weighted knowledge that she was more than competent enough to hold her own. He pulled up his own findings, monitoring the status on Mapuzo, and knew that his suspicions were founded. 

Imperial presence ebbing back. Right before a tide.

Even the Empire, he mused, was not immune to predictability. 

The long shadow that it cast over the galaxy also meant there were plenty of places to hide. They just had to- stay hidden for now. And maybe one day-

He exhaled slowly, feeling the tension drain away. 

Trust in the Force. 

–_-_-_-_-

Obi-Wan walks the corridors like a ghost. 

“Master.” He tells the empty air. “Are you there?”

As usual, there is no answer.

(Another thing that he’s getting used to)

–_-_-_-_-

Patience is an itch. Once, Quinlan would have happily been scratching away at a decade ago but now… things change. The stillness of a reprieve, and moments spent simply- existing were glimpses into a sort of peace long gone. 

He still felt the bond with Obi-Wan in his head. It was weak. He knew why. He was hesitant to wander through that maze of ties prematurely cut, broken, burning - cerulean blue green red - withered away into wisps, jagged and painful. At least this way he could trick himself into believing, but the past still lingered like a spectre. 

But Obi-Wan-

The proximity must have done something. Pulsed a spark of life back into the connection.

Speaking of, Obi-Wan had not moved from the viewing port in as much as hours. It hid his expression from Quinlan. But he didn’t need to see it to know. Part of him just did, even before Obi-Wan finally tilted his head in acknowledgement and the shadow that fell across his features abated enough for the grief to stand stark and exposed like a raw nerve. 

The question Obi-Wan asks takes both of them by surprise. 

“Do you think that Luminara…” 

His voice died.

Memories flashed between them, unspoken. It had always been three of them, together, when Obi-Wan was raising Anakin and Quinlan learned to let Aayla stand on her own two feet and Bariss- there was a tangible gap missing where 'Nara should have been.

“I don’t know.” Quinlan swipes a tongue over dry lips, and answers as honestly as he can bring himself to. “All I can do is hope that she’s alright. Somewhere out there. And hey, it’s a big galaxy out there.”

Obi-Wan's only reaction is a miniscule flinch.

“Reeft. Garen. Bant.” Quinlan continues. “I have to keep looking. I have to keep believing that they’re alive and maybe, one day, they’ll carve their own names in the safehouses.” He looks down at his hands, control of his own emotions wavering. There was no time limit to how much something could hurt.

“Perhaps. Some day.” Obi-Wan agrees quietly, gaze distant.

Standing next to each other, space spread out before them, there is a flicker where Quinlan feels the briefest moment of regret before asking bluntly, “So. Who is he?”

They both know exactly who - or what - he’s referring to.

The shields slam down. Obi-Wan’s gaze goes rigid. “No one.” He says flatly. The ice creeps back into his tone.  

“You know who I mean. Vader.” Vos says steadily. The truth solidified in his throat with every passing word that leaves his mouth. “I was tracking the transmissions from Mapuzo mere hours before he arrived. He's a phantom. Doesn’t just appear for anyone.”

“I do have a very high bounty on me.” Obi-Wan counters.

“Tala told me about Vader. That you sensed him the second he stepped foot into the camp. About… what happened after.”

“Vos. Drop it .”

“The question is - is he looking for the girl,” Quinlan wastes no time, “Or is he looking for you?”

Obi-Wan’s jaw set. Lips white with strain pressed into a narrow line. 

That in itself, Quinlan reflected, was answer enough.

“Fine.” He relents.

“Thank you.” Comes the acerbic reply. 

Silence falls back over them like a fog. 

–_-_-_-_-

The red light starts to flash on the band around his wrist. He glances down, and a string of numbers and digits flash by the small screen. He allows the tension to seep out slightly. “The coordinates of the ship we were using to smuggle out Force-sensitives from Mapuzo.” Quinlan explains. “The tracker was kept offline, as a precaution. The activation is kept manually hidden. If the Inquisitor and your kid did leave the planet on the ship as we suspect, then-”

“You can track them.” Obi-Wan finishes. “Good.” His hand drifted to the blaster by his side, as if subconsciously seeking out the reassurance. Quinlan knew better than to comment.

He pulls up the holographic map, and for a split-second, they’re back at the war council room in the Jedi Temple. Quinlan blinks away the memory and ruefully grounds himself back in the present. 

“There.” He points at a small speck on the hologram. “Dene-11. One of Reugel’s fourteen moons. Outer Rim.”

Obi-Wan studies the image for a while. He looks up and whatever scrap of emotion that had previously been on his features was scrubbed clean, leaving only the general in its place. His shoulders straighten. Steel replaced the grey of his eyes.

Quinlan almost felt bad for the one about to be on the receiving end of that fury.

Almost.

–_-_-_-_-

Dene-11 was an ecumenopolis space rock. Layers of metal and tunnels stacked upon each other, stretching out from end to end until the once-aquatic pools of ocean on the moon were swallowed whole by the encroaching tide of civilization. It was a place that made people disappear. Either of their own volition, or not. Most of the time, it was the latter.

The ship touched down in a public port, a fair distance away from the central.

“Here.” Quinlan turns his back on the vendor - one of many haphazard carts littered throughout the terrain - and hands Obi-Wan a scrap of dusty cloth. He took it. The thick haze of smog and vapours lingered strongly in the air; the mask helped, serving as a way to block out the atmosphere as well as obscure their faces.

Overhead, ships continued to rumble like a thunderstorm.

Obi-Wan felt like he was standing in one. The beat of his heart was the tick of a timer, almost unbearably so, and it took every ounce of strength to maintain the placid mask that had fallen like a veil over his face. It felt stiflingly hot, the crowd pressing in from all directions, buildings looming above like a monolith of neon lights and plaster.  

He trails Quinlan closely behind, the latter ducking and weaving effortlessly through the streets.

They ended up in a private port, barely skimming the west side boundary of the first planetary quadrant. It must have been one of the more wealthy parts of the city - it was noticeable in every gleam, shine and sparkle, as the masses began to thin out and disperse. 

It set Obi-Wan on edge.

Something about these surroundings rubbed at him the wrong way. 

There was a plastic feel to the place. Like it was all illusion, something not really there. Ready to fall apart at the slightest touch, and yet, when Obi-Wan stretched out a hand to trace the engraved walls, it was as solid as ever under his touch. His head felt woolly. Snapping himself back to attention, he kept an eye on the rooftops as they travelled further into the bowels of the place.

“Here.” Quinlan stops in front of a closed gate. He removes something from his sleeves and starts to fiddle with the control panel. 

“I’ll keep an eye out.” Obi-Wan says in a low murmur, casting another suspicious glance around. He moved to shield Quinlan from view - or from anything else, for that matter - and felt himself reach into his cloak and press the tips of his fingers against the cool metal of the blaster. 

It was an unhappy comfort. 

The gates open.

The foreign sense of triumph radiating from Quinlan next to him slipped under Obi-Wan's shields with a sudden jolt. He clamped down tighter, face blank. 

And then there was the ship they were looking for. 

Obi-Wan already knew that it to be abandoned even before they covertly boarded it. 

He was prepared for the disappointment. 

Quinlan noticed. His hand brushed past Obi-Wan's shoulder, barely there before it was gone - an intended gesture of comfort - and then he disappeared into the lower levels of the transport ship, feet echoing, thudding in the enclosed space before relative silence continued its vigil. 

Obi-Wan leaned against the wall. He barely noticed that his hands were shaking.

Master, please, he remembers himself thinking.

No reply.

But-

There was something here. He could feel it. It called to him, tugging at his chest, whispering, murmuring words that he could not parse the meaning of even as his body began to move of its own volition. The doors to the primary cabin slid open; lucidity jolted him from the strange trance.

He found it hidden in a compartment just below the dusty bunk.

A hidden latch. 

And inside, a holocron.

It floated up onto his palm, still hummed with warmth.

The edges clicked open. The sound was deafening in the small space. 

This is Master Obi-Wan Kenobi . I regret to report that -

His grip loosens, and he nearly drops the holocron. Hearing his own voice cut deep. It sent prickles of goosebumps with pins and needles raking across his skin. The colour steadily drained out of his face, he tried, he tried to recoil, to draw back and make it stop but it did no good - it felt as if he was paralysed to the spot. 

-both our Jedi Order and Republic have fallen, with the dark shadow of the Empire rising to take their place. This message is a warning and a reminder for any surviving Jedi: trust in the Force. 

He wanted to laugh. He wanted to sob.

Do not return to the Temple. That time has passed, and our future is uncertain. Avoid Coruscant. Avoid detection. Be secret… but be strong.  

Sure enough, when he reached up to touch his stinging eyes, his fingers came away wet. 

We will each be challenged; our trust, our faith, our friendships. 

“Obi-Wan.” Quinlan’s voice breaks the reverie. He stands at the entrance, and the look on his face is heartbreaking.

But we must persevere and in time, I believe a new hope will emerge. May the Force be with you always. 

It reaches the end of the recording. The hologram starts to fold away, clicking shut. Obi-Wan watched as the holographic image of himself dispersed into thin air, the blue light dissolving until there was nothing left behind. 

“It was left here on purpose.” Obi-Wan says dully. "A taunt." 

Quinlan bent over and picked up the hologram. He frowned, then peeled away the glove on his right hand and grasped the edges of the holocron with his bare skin. His eyes grow glassy, detachment drifting through like a mist.  

He comes back to himself. “She was a child.” He says jerkily, shaken. “She was there when the Temple fell.”

“One of ours.” Obi-Wan says hoarsely.

A sudden burst of warning brushed against the edge of his mind. Obi-Wan tensed. Quinlan looked up in alarm.

“Quickly.” He hissed, already on the move. The holocron vanished into the folds of his sleeve.

There was no sign of life outside. An unnatural calm had fallen across the atmosphere, lit up with the muted colours of dusk settling like a suffocating blanket over the planet. Quinlan’s hand hovered over the lightsaber hilt hidden at his side; Obi-Wan tapped his shoulder and shook his head. 

He had barely enough time to react, before a burst of blaster fire had him diving for cover behind a pillar.

Chapter Text

The girl is small in her grip. So fragile. Even as Leia Organa hurls abuse, kicks and screams, all Reva can think about is how easy it is to break what she holds in her hands. Bones shatter so easily; resolve is as weak as the rest of the galaxy. Everybody bleeds. They’re just too afraid and wrapped up in their self-delusion to notice. 

She cuffs the girl to the edge of the bunker in one of the cabins. The doors close, and the darkness is absolute.

It always is.

The shouts grow muffle. Then it dies away, bit by bit. The silence is a blessed relief.

This is a cycle that she has known for the past decade. She has been at both ends. She would have done anything, as long as there was an end to the pain. But now, the fire burned. Within her. Through her. The cold of the darkness hollowed her veins to make a home for itself, needle-sharp and twice as agonising, and yet. She felt cold. She felt on the edge of being consumed by that warped, hungry thing that perched inside her ribs. 

Reva sets the coordinates, and kills the hesitancy mercilessly.

-_-_-_-_-

Obi-Wan’s mind went curiously still. Pressing as close as he could to the pillar, he drew his blaster out in a quick, silent motion. The barrage ceased. His mind was a whirl, already ten steps ahead before he was fully conscious of it. He knew enough to identify the blaster type as something that a regular stormtrooper would not carry. Bounty hunter?

He spared a quick glance to his left.

Quinlan was nowhere to be seen.

Obi-Wan fought against the sudden clench of panic in his chest. 

Every ounce of instinct inside him begged to stretch his senses. But that part was still largely eclipsed by the fear. The spectre of the past that he had thought he’d buried still loomed, larger than ever, the shadows the wrong shade, moving shapes that fluttered like a heavy cloak.

He was afraid; he could not think straight. He tasted rust in his mouth.

But he couldn’t afford to be paralysed. Not here. Not now.

He exhaled slowly and felt his heart skip a beat. 

Then, he moved. 

He swung, and fired. His aim was impeccable. The shot sailed through the air and hit its target; steam exploded from the pipe in the next heartbeat, and the hot vapour drenching its surroundings. A sharp cry emanated from that area, before there was a breathless split-second of silence, the sounds around him dimming, and Obi-Wan used that moment of distraction well.

Without hesitation, he turned and plunged back into the city; the cover of night draped over.

–_-_-_-_-

Reva remembered him. Of course she did. 

(Kind eyes. A warm smile. Even when he was so incredibly sad.)

The memories were faint. Tainted with a child’s perceptions.

She scoured every bit of her mind. Every scrap of information was important. Yet, people changed. She changed. 

Regardless.

She’d adored him, once. In that same way that everyone had. 

But when the embers of hope finally died out, she found the truth - no one would come.

(There was no one left)

Maybe it was because she held onto that memory of him so tight that it welded into her mind when the electricity had clamped through her veins; a mangled thing. When the bruises became permanent and the burns blistered skin and her vision matched the red, red, red of the four walls around her. When the hurt outside surpassed the one within.

When at last, a revelation.

Only she could save herself. 

–_-_-_-_-

Silence followed him.

The alley was dark and dry. The overwhelming stench of rot and mold assaulted his senses; he coughed, eyes stinging. Suddenly grateful for the cloth wound tight around his nose and mouth, he pressed his back against the crumbling wall. Bits of plaster and grime clung onto the back of his cloak. 

Obi-Wan’s senses were on high alert. His skin prickled with warning, even as he saw nothing. 

He caught sight of a service ladder that scaled to the fourth level of the building. There were six floors, in total. He made a decision. He swung himself upwards, teeth gritting, as he climbed as quickly as he could. Reaching the end, he strained upwards, fingers just about touching the tip of the ledge. He jumped; pulled himself up with a grunt. 

He sucked in a winded breath. His body was beginning to ache from exertion, enough that the reminder lingered in his mind. Adrenaline helped. 

Peering below, he saw that there was no sign of movement, but Obi-Wan couldn’t shake the sensation of being followed. 

Not followed, he corrected himself grimly. 

Hunted.

-_-_-_-_-

The girl was sharp. But unrefined.

Almost… familiar. But those were ghosts, long buried, and the past the mere wisp of smoke in her grasp. 

“Stay close.” Reva said, nails digging into the child’s uncalloused skin as she marched them down the ship’s open ramp.

“As if I have a choice.” The girl muttered sullenly. “Also, ow. You’re hurting me.”

“Nothing you can do about it, princess.” Reva used the moniker as a taunt. The irritation mounted from the girl.

They made their way into the thick of the city. The throng that pressed in on either side sparked the fire inside into a low, constant simmer. Reva used that emotion well. Putting old lessons to use, she thought bitterly.

Leia suddenly stopped, mid-step. She collided with Reva, before scrambling away quickly. “I want to go home.” She said stubbornly, lip wobbling. 

Reva yanked harder. “Behave yourself. Or else.”

“Or what? Or else you’ll kill me.” Leia challenged, expression intent. “But you need me. You could’ve killed me earlier, but ‘cha didn’t.”

“There are worse things than death.” Reva said. “I don’t think you want to find that out the hard way, Leia. Besides-” Her gaze deliberately stroked the crowd around them. “If you try anything funny, then I’ll just kill everyone else around. Got it, princess?”

Leia’s jaw set. “Fine.”

“Fine.” Reva mocked.

The rest of the way proceeded exactly as she intended it to; without a single hitch. 

-_-_-_-_-

It started to rain.

The presence chasing him abated. A shiver ran through his spine; the faintest touch of ice brushing up against the barrier around his mind before it withdrew. The faintest echo of anticipation and calculation tickled the edges of his consciousness, before it was gone in the next beat.

He wasn’t sure how far he had run. The rooftops left him too exposed; he’d leapt down the sturdy piping of a mid-level height structure. He was hardly familiar with this place to begin with; already the streets and landmarks were a blur in his mind.

He couldn’t tell if the pounding he heard was from his heart racing in his chest or that of footsteps closing in around him.

The shrill sound of a child’s laughter bouncing around the underbelly in the city. Talking, low and intense. The overlapping hum of airspeeders. 

It threatened to drown him. 

A soft thud from behind him jolted Obi-Wan. He spun around, pulse leaping, fingers tight on the blaster. 

“Whoa, whoa.” Quinlan raised his hands in surrender. “It’s just me.”

Obi-Wan asked urgently, “Did you see anyone following me?”

Quinlan plucked out a small beeping device from his cloak. “Found this.” He said, and pressed the activation button. A wanted poster shimmered mid-air. “Bounty hunter. Taken care of already back at the port.”

“Daiyuu.” Obi-Wan cursed. 

–_-_-_-_-

“You know what to do.” Reva shut off her comms.

She turned back to the man, lightsaber raised at his throat, close enough that he could feel the heat. “I’ll be taking your ship.” She said flatly. “Pleasure doing business with you.”

The man’s throat bobbed; fear clouded his eyes as he stared into the middle-distance.

Reva turned back to retrieve the girl, only to find the stun cuffs empty. She stared. Her hand flew to the utility belt across her waist only to find whatever she was looking for was gone. Realisation dawned. 

Features rearranging itself into a snarl, Reva reached out and wrestled the Force under her control, and then took off.

-_-_-_-_-

The hiss-snap of a lightsaber. 

Red illuminated the surroundings.

Obi-Wan's head snapped up, heart skipping a beat, Quinlan’s lightsaber was already in his hands and activated, blade springing up. Obi-Wan reached for the weight hanging on his belt, hands shaking, as he brought out Anakin’s lightsaber. 

The crimson blade came to rest mid-air; its wielder standing straight and fierce, anger marring wild eyes. “I told you. You can't run forever.” Reva said. 

–_-_-_-_-

Leia ran.

Her heart pounded in her chest. She didn’t know where she was going; all she knew was that she had to get away from that Inquisiting person. She wanted Ben. Soon, she told herself. Ben was coming for her. She knew he was. She just had to stall for long enough.

There was an alleyway. Like last time, with Ben.

She took a sharp turn, and disappeared into the narrow space. 

Her legs felt weak. She sank down, knees pressed against her chest and she hugged herself. The gloves that Ben had bought for her were still warm. She liked how it felt; it made her feel safe.

A shadow passed over the entrance of the alley. It grew bigger and bigger.

Leia bit back the fear and huddled closer against the wall, chest heaving noiselessly.

That awful hiss sound again. 

The air in the alley turned red.

“Hello, princess.”

-_-_-_-_-

The lightsaber stood stark like a bolt of blood. 

Obi-Wan’s pulse thrummed. He felt curiously hazy, as instinct and muscle memory took over. The edges and grooves of the lightsaber hilt cut into Obi-Wan’s palm, even as the crystal within hummed and enclosed around him like an old embrace. He held it in a two-hand grip.

Reva charged. The first strike was heavy. 

Obi-Wan recovered his balance just in time, deflecting another blow as Quinlan struck from the other side. Darkness against light; red clashed against blue and there was sand and fire beneath his feet before he grounded himself in reality. The green from Quinlan’s lightsaber illuminated the contrast, reminding Obi-Wan that he was not alone. 

The fight was jarring, in the sense that emotion bled into the Force in a way that was hard to ignore. 

Hatred, with all its jagged edges.

Anger, that burned.

An undercurrent of fear, of detachment; of that knowledge that there was nothing left to lose. 

Sweat dripped. Gritting his teeth, Obi-Wan took a running leap and reversed course against the wall. His joints protested violently; he swept low, pressing in, strike after strike, scraping together every ounce of energy he still had. He tried to adapt to Quinlan’s fighting style. Defence, offence, then back to defence again.

He allowed himself to be backed for a while, blocking blow after blow and dealing out his own as soon as he had the chance to. The second time he switches to Ataru, it’s smoother. He stumbles through the half-memory of it, the foundation of his childhood - his Master guiding his steps - and it becomes more fluid.

The next beat.

He shifts his weight. Quinlan catches on.

Obi-Wan withdraws all pressure that he’s pressing against Reva’s lightsaber, ducks, and twists his body through the narrow gap in between the arc that the red blade takes stumbling forward. The Inquisitor whirls around, face twisted in a snarl, distracted and too late, Quinlan’s blade comes to rest across her neck from behind. 

“Where’s the girl?” Obi-Wan asks dangerously.

The Inquisitor falls silent. Then she begins to laugh. 

-_-_-_-_-

The red blade swung towards her. It would have only hit the wall beside Leia, but she did not know this. 

All the lights in the street beyond blew out. Leia screamed, and Reva was suspended like a ragdoll and then flung several steps back by an invisible force. 

The world went eerily silent. 

-_-_-_-_-

“You want the girl?” Reva taunts, eyes as cold as Ilum. “Then tell me, how far would you go, Obi-Wan? For her?”

Obi-Wan is glass - fragile and twice as sharp. “Where is she?” He repeats.

“Where do you think?” She regards Quinlan. “You. You know where. So say it.”

“The Fortress.” Quinlan says blankly. “Nur. In the system of Mustafar.”

Obi-Wan flinched.