Chapter Text
He had to get up! He had to get up!
Master Qui-Gon was still fighting. He had to get up!
Hauling himself up from the ledge, Obi-Wan staggered to his feet and scooped up his lightsaber. His body was aching and sore even with the adrenaline zinging through him. The Force tingled along his senses, urging him to hurry hurry hurry! Somehow, he knew that if he couldn’t make it back to the battle in time, so much more than just a battle would be lost.
The brilliant glow of the plasma generators was almost blinding, nearly drowning out the familiar green and blood red lightsabers dancing on the platform level above the one Obi-Wan now stood on. This duel, though two against one, was hardly an honorable fight. The Sith had no qualms about utilizing the Force to throw one or both of their Jedi opponents off balance. Well then, two could play that game. Drawing on the Force, the Padawan reached out for the Sith dueling his Master and pulled!
The Sith staggered forwards, stumbling into Master Qui-Gon, knocking them both backwards at the same time Obi-Wan soared up through the air and towards the duelists. Obi-Wan stopped pulling once his feet landed on the upper platform and he took off towards the duel as fast as he could go. Perhaps that maneuver wasn’t the best choice, but it brought Obi-Wan closer to the fight and it satisfied a small, vindictiveness he blamed on Jango’s influence. Hopefully Master Qui-Gon could turn the opportunity to his advantage as well.
The Sith recovered first, though, kicking the older Jedi back and striking with his dual-lightsaber at Master Qui-Gon’s chest. The Master Jedi dodged out of the way and blocked the strike with his own green lightsaber sending sparks dancing through the air. As his Master sidestepped & countered the Sith’s strike, Obi-Wan pulled his free hand back and pushed the Sith back with the Force, sending the Zabrak flying back.
But this time, the Sith saw through Obi-Wan’s intentions and was ready. He drew on the Force and moved with Obi-Wan’s shove, flipping backwards with ease. However, mid-flip, the Sith struck out one of his own hands in a Force shove that sent Master Qui-Gon stumbling back.
Obi-Wan raced past his master, engaging the Zabrak in a duel once more. Together, the two moved across the platform and into a high arched hallway guarded by red forcefield barriers that engaged and disengaged at measured intervals. Footsteps echoed behind Obi-Wan as he and the Sith continued to fight.
Then red flashed behind the Sith as the layers of red forcefield barriers quickly engaged. One. Two! Obi-Wan kicked the Sith back into the red forcefield just as another engaged between them, trapping them in their own narrow space.
It wouldn’t be long but, however brief, it was a much needed break. He should have a little less than a minute to catch his breath, take stock of his injuries, and think. Powering down his ‘saber, he forced himself to breathe in slowly and deeply, filling his lungs entirely before breathing out. Adrenaline still raced through him, keeping his heart rate up, his senses tingling, and his aches and pains muted.
The Sith tested the red forcefield barrier with his red ‘saber and Obi-Wan had a brief moment of mild panic. But the forcefield held, resisting the attempt to disrupt it. Frustrated and visibly annoyed, the Sith powered down his own ‘saber and began pacing like a caged animal.
Hatred and anger flowed off him in waves that threatened to crush Obi-Wan under its pressure and intensity. Releasing his own anxiety into the Force, Obi-Wan swallowed against a parched throat and turned to check on his Master. Qui-Gon Jinn was kneeling on the metal floor meditating seven forcefields back.
Obi-Wan sent an inquiring ping fluttering through the soulbond to where his soul-selves, Jango Fett and Sabè, fought side-by-side with Queen Amidala and the ground forces somewhere above. He felt them ping him back in reassurance, Jango with skill from his years of practice and Sabè with distracted enthusiasm.
From Jango, Obi-Wan glimpsed a Destroyer droid get blasted out a window by an explosion. Sabè sent a view of the same scene, after shooting off a battledroid’s head. They were alive and as safe as they could be, for now. Obi-Wan sent back his own view of the Zabrak Sith staring at him with hateful eyes, separated by the red forcefield.
He felt Sabè frown and whisper :The reactor shaft: to him through their soulbond. Obi-Wan blinked, then noticed the gaping maw in the floor behind the Sith. If he could just knock his opponent in-
Be ready, the Force whispered.
Activating his lightsaber, Obi-Wan loosened his muscles. The red barrier vanished. And he locked ‘sabers with the Sith once more. He could feel his Master running up to join them, only to be stopped by the forcefield barriers reengaging. Obi-Wan gritted his teeth and focused on the battle at hand. He would need to hold his own until his Master could join them.
The Zabrak was fast, much faster than before. It took all of Obi-Wan’s focus to avoid getting caught by the Sith’s dual red blades. He needed to do something about- There!
A well-timed strike from his blue ‘saber cut the Sith’s lightsaber handle in half deactivating one blade and forcing the Zabrak to rely on the single remaining blade instead. It wasn’t much considering his opponent’s skills, but it was something.
Unfortunately, Obi-Wan’s relief was short-lived. Obi-Wan arced his blade to strike when the Sith Force-pushed him backwards hard enough for his back to strike the far wall on the other side of the reactor , knocking the wind out of him. Stunned, Obi-Wan dropped his blue ‘saber, the blade powering down as it clattered to the floor.
But he wasn’t given the chance to fall to the ground. Nor was he given the chance to catch his breath. Instead, invisible claws like the Sith’s black gloved fingers curled around his throat, cutting off his airway and choking him. Panic clouded Obi-Wan’s thoughts as he grasped useless at the invisible Force holding him up against the wall and strangling him.
His feet kicked, heels striking the metal wall, trying to find some groove, some imperfection to push against. As if that would ease the constriction and free him. He couldn’t go like this. He couldn’t! Not like this. Not in front of his Master. Not-
But Qui-Gon wasn’t his Master, was he? Not really. Not good enough to be chosen as a Padawan. Not good enough to keep that bond. Not good enough to be Knighted by his own hard work. Simply thrust towards the Trials to make room for a new Padawan, one Qui-Gon actually wanted.
The dark, insidious self-doubts flickered through his mind. Anakin didn’t deserve Obi-Wan’s hate or jealousy. It wasn’t the first time Qui-Gon had chosen to abandon Obi-Wan. It was just the latest. Dying now would just make that transition easier.
But he didn’t want to die. He’d promised Jango he would return to Mandalore. He’d promised Sabè he would meditate with her. He’d promised Anakin he would show him the wake angels. He’d promised Quinlan he would return to the Temple.
The kyber crystal in his ‘saber chimed loudly from the floor beneath him, calling to him. He refused to give up. Not here. Not now!
Soon, the Force whispered.
Buy time. Strike back. Buy time.
Obi-Wan focused his thoughts and reached out for his ‘saber, calling it to his hand. He thumbed the activation button on.
Now!
Many things happened at once. Too many. The Sith jerked his hand back, using the Force to yank Obi-Wan forward. The red forcefield holding Qui-Gon back disengaged and the Master Jedi leapt to his feet, green lightsaber humming to life as he ran to continue the fight. The Sith whirled around to meet the descending green blade with his own blood red, and released Obi-Wan.
Directly over the reactor shaft.
Obi-Wan felt a stab of panic, followed by grim realization. He wasn’t going to survive this fight. Grief broke his heart for his soulmates and the promises he never intended to break.
Then fierce determination burned through his heart. He wouldn’t survive this. But neither would the Sith.
With all the Force strength he could muster, Obi-Wan swung his activated ‘saber at the Sith’s vulnerable back, a flick of the wrist sending the vibrant blue blade spinning as it went. Then he passed the lip of the reactor shaft and could see no more.
There was only the sound of rushing air, the relentless pull of gravity, and the stark terror of inevitable death. He pinwheeled his arms and legs, flailing desperately. He drew on the Force and pushed himself up against the side of the shaft, feeling his side slam into the metal. His hands scrabbled at the smooth surface, hoping against hope that he’d catch a ledge, a groove, a vent, anything to slow or stop his fall. But there was none.
And the light above, his only escape, was getting farther and farther away.
The light flickered twice and the familiar face of the Zabrak Sith caught the fading light. And so did the lower half of his body.
So, Obi-Wan thought viciously, he could do something right after all. Even if he had to break his own heart to do it.
Close.
Anguish pierced him through his Padawan training bond with Master Qui-Gon. Right before it broke, tearing away from him, leaving him alone in his mind. Leaving him alone to die.
He may have screamed. He heard something ragged and loud scrape against his throat, only to be suddenly, abruptly cut off when he slammed into something cold and hard, breaking bones, ripping his breath away, and silencing him in darkness.
Jango Fett felt it when a part of himself cried out in terror, then was suddenly silenced. The abruptness of it startled him so badly he missed his shot. At the same moment, from her hiding place behind a marble column, Sabè let out an ear-piercing scream of fury and despair that reverberated through the hall.
Then Sabè stepped out into the hallway and fired at the droids with reckless abandon, tears streaming down her painted cheeks. Cursing, Jango unhooked a small disrupter bomb and tossed it into the fray as he tried to reach out to the third in his heart through the Manda.
And found nothing. The soothing calm and friendly amusement that Obi-wan always seemed to exude was gone. Silenced.
After drawing the droids away from Padmè in the throne room, trapping Nute Gunray there with the intrepid queen, it had only been a matter of time before the battle was over.
Jango would find him. He refused to believe his soul-self was dead until he saw the body, touched it, and confirmed the loss of life. He couldn’t live with himself otherwise.