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agirlunderarock · 9 months

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Sunrises and Fireworks

Summary: Its been five years since Palpatine was outed for playing both sides of the Galactic Civil War, but getting out of bed is still a losing battle. Treaty week is upon Obi-Wan and his family but not everyone seems eager to celebrate in Theed.

Pairing: Obi-Wan X Sas Vom (OC)

Warnings; Fluff, all fluff no angst, no hurt comfort just straight up fluff and Obi-Wan enjoying life without war and outrageous missions.

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A/N: This was requested by @heyhawtdawgs who had been asking that 1. I write Obi-Wan happy and no longer angsty and 2. Obi-Wan interact with some Boga babies, but since I can't write just a few hundred words this turned into a nine and half page One shot that took several months to write. Its fine its totally fine. Divider used is by @saradika As always I hope you enjoy reading!

The first thing Obi-Wan was aware of was the warmth washing over his face, and flooding his eye lids with the glow of mid morning light. Keeping his eyes closed he rolled over and reached for Sas to bury his face in the crook of her neck. However, where he had thought to find the soft sleeping form of his wife, Obi-Wan's hand spread over a cool and empty bedside. He blinked his eyes open confirming again that his bedside was empty. He felt his chest tighten as his mind very quickly came up with the worst possible scenarios. Each thought grew more intense than the last. He clutched the sheets trying to force the thought away that he'd open his eyes to find himself alone on some desolate backwater planet.

“Oops too hot-” a woman's voice exclaimed from another room.

The war ended five years ago and yet it still had a tight grip on his psyche. He supposed that was something that would never really go away. He would feel the effects as time marched on. That of course went without saying, he had enough physical markers from the war littered over his body. He had a lifetime to think about that though, and he would prefer to focus on the sounds drifting through the house and the open door to the bedroom.

Rolling over onto his back, Obi-Wan looked up at the ceiling of his bedroom and took a few deep breaths to still his mind and calm his racing heart. He just needed a minute to ground himself in this moment, to remind himself that the war was over, his fight was done, they won. He had chosen to live the rest of his life for himself, or at least as much of himself as he could imagine without feeling selfish. He folded his hands on his stomach and took another deep breath as he focused on the sizzling sounds from the kitchen, the warmth of the sunlight streaming in from the window, the light weight of the blanket against his bare torso, and the soft sound of Sas’ humming as she moved around the kitchen.

“Ow kriff!”

That was his cue to get up.

Loud sizzling filled the hallway. Sas must have been rushing in the kitchen again.

Rolling out of bed, Obi-Wan decided that it was time to spoil the surprise Sas had for him. It wouldn’t be the first time and he preferred to spend the morning with her rather than laying around waiting. Being with her every morning was a much better surprise than bringing food into their bedroom.

During the war he didn’t dare to entertain the idea that he could spend his life with the woman he loved, at least not in the way one would normally think of. Sas herself had kept a strict rule of never talking about a future together, not because she didn’t want it, but moreso because neither could imagine a life that didn’t involve one of them, if not both of them, giving their life to the war cause. Yet, by some grace of the Force, the war ended, Sas was no longer fighting to prevent civil war on her planet, there was an active effort to negotiate and find compassion between the systems that were at war. He supposed it helped that one man responsible for playing both sides and was responsible for a good portion of their problems, but still there was room for growth and reflection on the part of the Republic.

This left room for Obi-Wan to focus on other things for the time being. Things that didn’t have to do with the state and well being of the galaxy. He married Sas. She was his wife. Five years passed and the little rush that fluttered in his stomach hadn’t subsided whenever he thought of her as his wife. He was still a Jedi in all ways but title, but he understood why the Jedi had their rules about attachment. He had to choose, and this time he chose a life for himself.

The way Obi-Wan understood things, was that the Force laid two path’s before him. There wasn’t one right or wrong answer, but he had to trust the Force to guide him along both. He had expected the long hours of meditation as he considered the life he would lead going forward. He expected questions and concerns once he had made his final choice. What he hadn’t expected so much compassion upon his leaving. That Sas would encourage him to stay with the Order, that his Jedi family was so understanding of his need to leave and encouraged him to visit and return should he ever need guidance. He didn’t consider himself a person who dwelled too long on the past, or stress too often about the future, but the life he currently led, wasn’t one had ever imagined he would have. He felt at peace with his choices, and there was peace in his heart.

He paused by the doorway to Jinn’s bedroom, the window curtains drawn open to the Naboo countryside painted orange by the rising sun. Obi-Wan watched the little lump still sleeping soundly under a pile of blankets. Again he found himself wondering how five years ago, he, Sas and Anakin had been fighting for their lives in trenches of the Outer Rim Sieges. After all of that, why didn’t he deserve to have this peace in his life? He supposed he wasn’t being completely fair, they volunteered their very lives for a manufactured war, and only just managed to put an end to it before it was too late. Obi-Wan’s children would have the chance to live a quiet life he nor his wife had never known. This absolutely included not having to wake up before the sun rose to meditate. Jinn would get to sleep in a little longer.

“Good morning, My Dear,” Obi-Wan greeted as he came up behind Sas. Before she could turn around he wrapped one arm around her middle, and the other hand gilded slowly over the large swell of her belly. “You’re up early ,” he observed , placing a light kiss against her emerald colored neck as she leaned her head back against his shoulder.

“I had to pee,” she sighed honestly as she placed a hand over his own on her stomach. He slowly rubbed her hand over it, as if to soothe the fussy child giving his wife a hard time. “Our little one was being extra pushy, squishing my bladder, and demanding I be up early. Thought we might surprise you, but I should know better than to try that by now. The good news is I just finished the bacon, so if you distract me, we won’t almost burn the house down.”

“Darling, are you still trying to pin the blame on me?” he teased, pressing a kiss to her jaw. “I cannot help it if you are so easily distracted,” he nuzzled into the crook of her neck and felt her shiver in his hold despite the mild morning.

“I told you, I’m going to have to change your nickname from Pretty Boy to The Arsonist. It’s almost like you want me to burn down our house.”

“Oh no, I just want you,” He said with a kiss to her cheek this time. Without her tattoos painted on, Obi-Wan could have sworn he saw some color rise in her face. Pink patches had yet to appear on her neck or shoulder, but he could see her cheeks turning a slightly deeper green.

"Hmm you can have me, in… hold on, seven months in… two months! Actually four and I'm all yours again."

“Four months?”

“Two months until I can deliver the baby, and then another two months for us, mostly me, to catch up on sleep after” She gestured vaguely with her free hand and closed her eyes with a sigh. “On second thought we’re going to need a lot more than two months. You know I think I slept more during the war.”

“You said you wanted another,” He reminded her with a kiss to her forehead.

“You were supposed to remind me that I didn’t like being pregnant last time. That my back hurt, I hated feeling sick, and I hated waddling back and forth everywhere-”

Obi-Wan chuckled. “I did remind you of all that, and what did you say?”

Sas grew quiet for a moment, reconsidering her life choices. She stopped his slow circles by weaving her fingers with his own and humming to herself. “I said I’d be fine.”

“That is not what you said.”

“Yes it is!”

“In those exact words?

“More or less…” She started, and this time Obi-Wan could see the deep green flush across her cheeks and a little pink patch bloomed where his breath whispered over her neck. “But,” Sas continued, before he could properly remind her of her exact wording, “I knew things would be fine, if you were with me. So long as I didn’t face the diaper wars alone, I thought I would be okay, and I was mostly right.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Obi-Wan asked, a small amused smile playing on his lips. Nuzzling the small pink patch, he found himself pleased with her reaction. He had her flustered already, but that didn’t mean he was about to let up. For as long as they had known each other it still felt rare for her to stumble over her words like she was now.

“It means I was mostly right.” Obi-Wan couldn’t help but roll his eyes, “Then what were you wrong about?”

“That there was nothing in the galaxy that could make me happier in that moment.” She reached one hand back and up to guide his lips to her own.

His eyes slid close as he let himself melt into the kiss. Though brief, he felt her warmth in the Force radiating like the early morning sun rising outside the kitchen window. He was more than happy to bask in her light for the rest of his life. He held her close as she leaned back into him. As he pulled away he placed one last kiss to her forehead, “I love you, Sas,” he breathed against her skin.

“I love you too.”

For a moment Obi-Wan just held his wife, letting her sink into him, and slowly swaying with her. Nothing Obi-Wan could have imagined included a reality where he spent his mornings this way. He just needed a few moments to be present with Sas, to hold on to the lightness he felt in his chest, and be thankful for things working out the way that they had. He took a deep breath.

“We’ve got a long day ahead of us,” Sas murmured, her hand rubbing up his arm.

Obi-Wan just hummed thoughtfully in answer. “Indeed we do, might as well enjoy the quiet while we can.”

"Lots of fireworks, lots of people- And we're only on Naboo, can you imagine Coruscant?"

"I can picture it too clearly. Thankfully Padmé and Anakin are staying in Theed this year, so we don't have to go to Coruscant, like Rex and Fives."

"I didn’t tell you? Pyrrha and Jankari invited us too-" Sas laughed.

Obi-Wan just hid his face in her neck. He loved returning to the temple but not during Treaty Week. Theed was overwhelming enough, since they were always with Padmé and Anakin, but Coruscant was too much. The temple was still his home, but his home was always swarmed with holonet reporters, during this specific week. Part of why he and Sas stayed in the Naboo Lake country was because it was so far away from it all. They would visit the temple after the festivities died down.

That and somehow in the last five years they'd managed to adopt two full grown Veractyl but that was a different matter altogether.

“I was about to say at least there aren’t any statues of you in Theed, but well they're just of a younger you." Obi-Wan felt himself momentarily deflate, and earned a laugh from his wife as consolation. "Lucky for us then, I said that it was their turn to have Coruscant to themselves. We get to blend in the background this time on Theed.” She raised his hand to her lips and kissed his knuckles. “Luke and Leia will be very happy to see you and Jinn- Oh! Can you check on Jinn? He was up helping me earlier, but went back to his room once I started making the bacon. He said he had a nightmare about Boga being scared of the fireworks.”

Obi-Wan blinked a few times trying to process the several shifts in conversation. “I just looked in on him, he was still asleep.”

“Maybe he went back to sleep. He did say he was going to try to have another dream.”

He pursed his lips with a small nod. While Obi-Wan always felt that his son had a connection to the Force, he was also a little wary about his emerging abilities. This was usually why morning meditations weren’t something that they normally skipped. Dreams were rarely just dreams. More often than not, they offered a vision of things that could happen or offered insight to what someone was feeling. Jedi Order or not, both Sas and Obi-Wan felt it was important for their children to learn to connect with the Force.

“I’ll check on him. Boga might not be the only one scared of the fireworks,” he said, before gently squeezing his wife in his arms one last time before going back up the hall to their son’s room.

“Jinn,” Obi-Wan called softly as he entered his son’s room. “Jinn, are you awake?” Even as Obi-Wan sat on the bed, as he had done many times, something felt off. He expected to feel some sort of weight move or shift once he sat down but there was nothing. Obi-Wan reached a hand toward the lump huddled under the blankets. “Mama said you had a dream?”

He reached for Jinn’s shoulder, only for his hand to sink into something soft and plushy. He gave a gentle squeeze expecting his hand to meet some resistance in his son’s shoulder. Instead, the lump gave way under his fingers. He felt his heart rate pick up. Obi-Wan’s brows furrowed as he quickly patted down the rest of the lump, only to be met with the same plushy give. He pulled back the blanket only to find pillows and a stuffed bantha and veractyl lined neatly under the sheets.

"Sas? How long ago did Jinn go back to bed?" He was already jogging back down the hall, his heart threatening to burst in his chest. The line of boots in the doorway was already missing its smallest pair.

"Just a few minutes before you got up, Love- What's wrong?" Sas asked from where she was setting the food on the table. “Obi-Wan?” She called after him.

Obi-Wan was already moving out the door, shirtless and missing his shoes.

There was only one place that Jinn would have gone to.

The veractyl stables.

Jinn’s path down to the barn was still visible in the dew-covered grass. Though a little windy, like he got distracted by something, Obi-Wan could clearly see the end of the trail leading up to the barn doors. Obi-Wan did his best not slip as he sprinted for the door, the chirps and whistles of the veractyls getting louder the closer he got.

Then came his son’s voice crying out over the noise.

“Jinn!” He called as he threw open the doors. His heart pounded wildly in his chest as he quickly scanned the room for his son.

A loud clatter of a beam rang through the barn, followed by the squeals of laughter.

“Dada! Help!” a little voice called.

Before Obi-Wan could find where exactly the voice came from, something rammed into the back of his knee, sending him tumbling toward the ground. Little hands clutched at him only finding grip on the waistband of his pants.

“Hey wait a minute-`” he exclaimed, turning to fend off the little hands from accidentally pulling down his pants only to fall over onto his butt, much the same way Jinn used to when he was learning to walk. Before Obi-Wan could fully process how he ended up on the ground, tiny arms wrapped around his neck in a firm hug, and two small Veractyls, one violet and one green and teal, came charging up to him, their tails swishing excitedly as their bodies wiggled with each step. He put out his hands trying to keep the creatures from jumping on him only to have the arms squeeze him tighter. If he could breathe, he would have been laughing at the little veractyls trying to dodge around his arms. It was as if someone were pulling them on some invisible strings.

“Jinn baby, we don’t hug that way remember,” Sas’ voice called from the doorway.

Immediately the arms loosened their hold, and air rushed into Obi-Wan’s lungs. In that same moment he managed to stop the little creatures by letting them run their heads into the palms of his hands. “Settle down,” he breathed between laughs, but they only scrambled harder on the dirt floor trying to get around his hands, their loud chirps of protest rang out through the barn. With a deep breath and wishing for them to calm down, their wiggles slowed before they settled beside him and nosed their way under his arms.

“Sorry Mama,” Jinn said, as his mother came more into the barn.

“Not to me-”

“Sorry Papa,” Jinn said, moving to stand in front of Obi-Wan and holding out his arms to him, as if asking for a hug this time. His dark hair was standing at unnaturally odd ends, and had straw sticking out of it. The banthas trudging along Jinn’s pajama bottoms looked like they were trying to escape being tucked into his little rubber boots. Clearly the five year old had been prepared to be out in the stable for a while.

“Thank you for apologizing, Jinn,” he answered, hesitantly lifting his arms from creatures at his side before his son crashed into him. “You are forgiven, just be a little careful next time.” He held his son close, one hand cradling the back of his head as he kissed his forehead.

“Or you’ll turn blue?”

Obi-Wan shook his head with a breathy laugh. “Yes, if I’m changing colors then something is wrong. Luckily, that won’t be happening any time soon.”

“Maka is blue,” Jinn stated as he untangled himself from Obi-Wan, sat in his lap and motioned for the small teal veractyl to come closer to him. She chirped happily and curled up between Obi-Wan’s legs.

For a brief moment Obi-Wan held his son and just watched as Jinn gently smooth out the wispy feathers along her head. Maka’s large eyes slowly closed with each pass of his little hand until she had her head in the child’s lap on the verge of sleep. “Ow!” Gia, her sister, nipped her beak sharply at Obi-Wan’s fingers, clearly displeased that she was not getting nearly as much attention. “Alright, girl, I’m sorry,” he sighed using his free hand to gently run his hands over the smooth violet scales along her side. She gave a few sassy chirps before wiggling away and following after Sas as she walked further into the stable.

From her pen, Boga chirped at her little one as if to tell her not to ram into the back of Sas’ legs like she had done to himself. Gia, instead continued to chirp and zip between Sas and looking like she might pounce on Jinn if he looked up from Maka. After a few laps, and one more warning from Boga, she settled back in next to Obi-Wan’s hip with a small huff. “There, there Gia,” Obi-Wan said, rubbing the smooth scales of her belly. “Maybe next time don’t try to knock me to the ground.”

Further into the stable, Obi-Wan watched as Sas made her way to Boga and ran her hand over her beak. He couldn’t hear what his wife was saying to the dragonmount, but the low chirps that came from Boga were unmistakably happy. She nudged her beak against Sas’ chest who laughed and rubbed down the dragonmount’s neck again.

“Papa? What are you smiling at?” Jinn asked, turning his blue eyes up toward him.

Obi-Wan hadn’t realized he was smiling at all. Truthfully he was just finding himself awestruck again by the turns his life had taken to get to this point. Of course he couldn’t exactly explain all that to his five year old. If it was overwhelming for him to think about surely it would be overwhelming for his son. But maybe it wasn’t he didn’t have to know the why after all. “I’m watching your mother talk to Boga and-”

“Why?”

Okay he should have known that was coming. “She makes me happy, just like you do.” Obi-Wan lifted his hand from Gia and offered it to Jinn. Despite having done this numerous times, Obi-Wan felt a flutter in his chest when his son placed his palm over his. “Take a deep breath,” he said before doing the same and taking a moment to close his eyes. He smiled feeling Jinn lean back against him as they both breathed out, but in his mind he could see Sas embracing Boga again, Jinn running after him with the veractyl hatchlings. Another deep breath and Obi-Wan felt the warmth of his family wash over him. No matter what he had been through before, this was his place now, and there was nowhere he would rather be.

“You and Mama feel like sunlight,” Jinn said as he reached his other hand out to Sas as she walked by.

“Do we now?” she asked, swinging his hand and ruffling both Jinn and Obi-Wan’s hair. There was something in the way the sunlight danced off Sas’ hair that briefly had him mesmerized. He could see the first few strands of silver hair burning orange in light, the faintest hint of smile lines around her eyes and corners of her lips. She was beautiful, she always was, but somehow in that moment the last eight years of their lives felt more real and weighted. A lifetime of fighting, years of war, and somehow they’d survived it, earned their smile lines and slivers of grey alongside their scars and faded wounds.

“Mama, he’s being silly again,” Jinn’s voice pulled Obi-Wan back to the present. “Oh he’s always being silly,” Sas assured him. “Thats why he came out without his shirt and shoes.” As if on cue, both Gia and Maka pounced at Obi-Wan’s feet, much to Jinn’s delight.

“It wasn’t on purpose,” he said, trying to keep Jinn from falling and keep his feet away from the veractyls.

A louder chirp came from the far side of the stables and Gia and Maka scrambled away to their mother. Boga nudged them a few times with her beak, playfully pushing them back as they tried to jump on her, their little legs seeming to flail about with each jump.

“I was just in a hurry,” Obi-Wan said after a few moments.

Sas just hummed in answer and gave Jinn a knowing look, like the two of them were sharing some kind of secret. She then focused on Obi-Wan. “Well, lucky for you, I brought them out to you. Can’t have Gia and Maka clawing you all up right?” Sas said with a wink as she handed him a dark blue shirt. He didn’t need the force to know there was something more she wanted to say, he could practically feel it rippling off of her. Thankfully she let her grin speak for her thoughts, but he still felt heat rising in his face and ears.

He looked away for a moment as he pulled on his shirt. “Thank you, Darling, I’m lucky to have you looking out for me.”

“You’re welcome,” she said leaning down to kiss the top of his head. “I’m going to finish up breakfast, you two should come back in soon,” she added after kissing Jinn’s head as well. “Crix and Marker will be here soon to load up the speeder, and we still have to finish packing-”

“Sas, Darling?” Obi-Wan said, taking her hand.

“Yes?”

“We’re going to be okay.” He pressed a kiss to her fingers. “Its only two nights we’re staying there.” He pressed one more to her knuckles. He saw the tension in her shoulders slowly leave as she took a deep breath and let his reminder sink in.

“Thank you, Obi-Wan,” she said, giving his hand a small squeeze before making her way back up to their home.

Jinn had been watching his parents the whole time, and though Obi-Wan knew his son absorbed things like a sponge and was always watching them closely, he found himself surprised by his look of distaste. His nose held little wrinkles and his brows furrowed together. Sas had always said Obi-Wan made a distinct face when he was thinking really hard, he hadn’t fully realized what kind of face that was until he saw Jinn making the same one.

“Something bothering you, son?”

“Mama didn’t listen to Boga. She told her I couldn’t go.”

“Boga said you can’t go to Theed with us?” In all honesty between almost losing his pants and being tackled by his son and the veractyl, Obi-Wan had forgotten to ask why Jinn had come outside in the first place.

“I had a dream about her getting scared of the fireworks. She’s afraid of the big ones. They’re too loud.” Jinn kept his eyes fixed on the open doorway where Boga, Maka, and Gia left the stable.

“Is that why you came outside?” Obi-Wan rubbed his back slowly, while Jinn’s little hands twisted the hem of his shirt. “Why don’t we go for a walk and you can tell me about your dream,” Obi-Wan offered.

Jinn again wrinkled his nose, before looking up at his father before really taking a moment to think about it.

“Or at the very least you can tell me why your stuffies were hiding under your blankets pretending to be you.”

A mischievous giggle bubbled up from Jinn in answer, his eyes crinkling around the corners much like his mother’s when she was up to something. “They were cold.”

“Mhmm I’m sure they were, they looked very comfortable under your blankets.”

Jinn only giggled more, but held his arms up to be carried, finally accepting Obi-Wan’s offer.

After a brief moment of Obi-Wan having to wrestle his boots away from his son, he finally had his shoes on, and walked out of the stable holding him.

“Boga!” Jinn cried, as the dragonmount playfully rolled over in the field, while Maka and Gia leaped over onto her. Their loud chirps and whistles rang across the field as they moved closer to the edge of the lake where another large, though not larger than Boga, violet veractyl, Agob was waiting for them.

For a brief moment Obi-Wan was abruptly reminded about all the precautions he would have to take housing Boga and Agob to ensure that they would lead to an invasive species issue on Naboo. That he had Sas even had to before the Queen and her advisors to get permission to house the dragonmounts. He might need to update them on some other precautions given Maka and Gia, but for the time being everything was still fine and manageable.

“Boga said I can’t go to the festival today or tomorrow.” Jinn said, breaking the silence.

“You said you had a dream that she was scared, right?”

“The big fireworks scared her,” Jinn said with a nod. “They’re loud…” Again his face got that scrunched up thoughtful look. Like he wasn’t sure what to say, despite having more to say. “She got scared in the barn, and there was no one to help her.”

Obi-Wan nodded, wanting to take his son’s vision very seriously. While Obi-Wan was certain that Boga would in fact be frightened by loud sounds like fireworks, he got the feeling that Jinn’s dream wasn’t really about Boga. “Boga isn’t going to the festival though, she’s staying here, and no one here will be doing any sort of fireworks. Did she tell you why you can’t go?”

“She said-” he giggled again, as Gia overestimated her leap, threw herself too far over her mother and tumbled to the ground. “She said I have to protect her from the big booms”

Obi-Wan nodded, “She will be perfectly safe here away from all the fireworks. But are you worried about them?”

Jinn nodded slowly. “They’re too loud and make my brain funny.”

“Can you tell me how they make your brain funny?” For a moment Obi-Wan was dragged away from his peaceful life on Naboo to back to the Clone Wars. The sound of an explosion and a firework weren’t all that different. Five years had passed, and though Obi-Wan never fully let down his guard, he had done his best to let go of his anxiety. Sas had too, but even she still jumped or gave his hand an extra squeeze at each burst.

“My ears get full, but the fireworks are so pretty. I like the colors.”

“The colors are very nice.”

“Yeah.”

“I think I might have a way for you to just watch them, without it being too loud.” Obi-Wan felt something unclench in his chest as Jinn’s eyes widened and he looked up excitedly.

“Really?” he asked. At Obi-Wan’s nod however, his brows furrowed low over his eyes. “What about Boga?”

“Hmm, can you tell me where you and Boga were in your dream?”

“We were in Theed…but she’s not going to Theed.”

“So do we need to worry about that part of your dream?”

A large smile broke out on his face. “No! And Gia said she’d protect her-”

“Well good. Let's go back inside to eat. I can feel Mama watching us through the window.”

“Mama’s blowing kisses,” Jinn giggled.

“We best not keep her waiting then.”

Obi-Wan leaned against the balcony railing watching the parade dance by below. Hundreds of people marched by, waving flags and color costumes, some even had some lights that made the whole street glow. Despite the cheering, and confetti, and lights and music, the energy flowing through the streets was nothing compared to the energy radiating off of the three children running zipping and dashing in and around the balcony trying to watch the parade between the pillars holding up the railing.

While admittedly Obi-Wan was on his third cup of caff to keep up with Luke, Leia and Jinn, he was happy to hear them laughing and playing.

“Uncle Obi!” Leia exclaimed, pulling on the sleeve of his tunic. “They’re coming they’re coming!” “I wanna see!” Luke cried, trying to climb up his side to see over the bannister.

“Hold on-” Obi-Wan said, doing his best not to let either of the children get too close to the railing. Wrangling the veractyls had seemed easier than wrangling Skywalker children. “Take a seat over here,” he said, leading them to a spot on the balcony that had a clear view of the streets, and the float Padmè would be on. He kept the twins in front of him, one hand on each shoulder, wanting to make sure that neither of them got any ideas about trying to lean between the columns.

“Did we miss them?” Sas asked from behind, holding Jinn’s hand as they walked out on the balcony.

“Not yet.” Immediately after Obi-Wan answered her, a flash of blue light washed over the courtyard, and the figures of Padmè Amidala, and Anakin Skywalker were projected over the heads of the people.

Luke and Leia erupted into cheers with the rest of the crowd, but the holoimage of Anakin seemed to look directly at them and give them a wide grin and a wave. Padmè followed suit, but then turned her attention to the crowd of people.

“Five years ago the Republic was engaged in a civil war…” she started. In all honesty, Obi-Wan wasn’t really listening to his friend’s speech. He had heard Padmè practicing it in the background of holo calls with Anakin. Instead, he found his attention drawn to the crowds moved by Padmè’s words, just like they are every year. Just moments before they had been cheering and dancing, now they stood listening in awe. Leia and Luke looked on, washed in the same blue light, with a mixture of pride and admiration in their eyes. “Together we can continue to rebuild relationships, and forge new connections to make a better galaxy.”

The moment she ended her speech the sky erupted in a burst of colors. Blues, pinks and purples littered the sky as the firework show began. Below the crowd exploded into cheers, but at his side, Sas held Jinn to her side as he looked to the sky wide eyed.In his ears, Jinn wore small ear pieces to block out the majority of the sound. He wiggled in his mother’s arms before moving next to Luke and Leia. Obi-Wan reached out and pulled Sas against his side before pressing a kiss to the side of her head.

“You missed,” She teased as she reached a hand up to guide his attention to her.

“I never miss. I just like to hear you ask for another,” he teased, kissing her palm on his cheek, and then pressed a soft kiss to her lips. “I love you,” he said softly, though he quickly remembered she couldn’t hear him over the noise of the fireworks or her own ear plugs.

Still, just smiled and mouthed the words, “Love you, too,” before resting her head against his shoulder. He leaned his head against hers when he felt her put her own arm around him and closed his eyes, letting the colors of the fireworks dance behind his lids. He took a deep breath, soaking in the moment, and slowly let out his breath. When he opened his eyes, Jinn and the twins were still laughing and watching the light show above, the woman he loved was content in his arms, and there was peace in his heart.

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#obi wan kenobi #star wars fanfic #obi-wan fanfic #star wars oc #obi wan x oc #sas vom #sw fanfic #Happy Obi-Wan #boga the varactyl #Obi-Wan X happiness #revenge of the sith never happened #skywalker twins #Star wars #Obi-Wan probably sees his life flash before his eyes at least twice in this fic #both times are because of crazy twins #fluffy fic #Obi-Wan and Boga

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swan-of-sunrise · 11 months

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Taking Care of Business (Chapter Thirty-Nine)

Summary: After Bo-Katan and Din uncover the culprit behind Plazir-15′s droid malfunctions, they are granted permission to access the Mandalorian mercenaries and (Y/N) does her best to encourage the Nite Owl.

Pairing: Din Djarin X Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings/Disclaimers: None

A/N: This one’s a little shorter than I originally anticipated, but I still had a lot of fun with it! Thank you for reading, I hope you all enjoy!

Chapter Thirty-Nine The Mercenaries (Previous Chapter)

When (Y/N) was a little girl, her mother would often regale her with bedtime stories about the elegant balls once held at Naboo’s royal palace in Theed, where beings of all shapes and sizes dressed in the finest clothing the planet’s seamsters and seamstresses could offer and danced all through the evening. She always dreamed of attending such a soiree but she never truly believed that she ever would, so it came as quite a pleasant surprise when she and Grogu were invited by the Duchess and Captain Bombardier to a ball celebrating the happy couple’s wedding anniversary. (Y/N), dressed in a beautiful sea-blue gown embellished with sparkling jewels and with her hair carefully styled into an elaborate updo, and Grogu mingled with Plazir-15’s citizens, the former learning all that she could about the planet’s unique culture and the latter practically preening under all the attention he was receiving from their gracious hosts and the other attendees.

As the evening went on and both Din and Bo-Katan were nowhere to be found, a worried (Y/N) decided to try contacting her husband through his comm and learned that the Mandalorians’ investigation into the planet’s malfunctioning droids had become more complicated than either of them originally anticipated; they’d visited the Ugnaughts that worked far below the city, chased down a rogue battle droid and gained some insight on the problem after a visit to a droid bar named ‘The Resistor.’ They were heading to the city’s morgue to examine the battle droid’s remains for more evidence when (Y/N) called, and Din confirmed that they were still far from solving the planet’s ongoing droid problem.

“I’m sorry that this has taken so long, alor’ad. I know I said we’d be back soon-”

“It’s all right, sweetheart, I understand,” (Y/N) soothed, glancing over her shoulder at the glittering assemblage inside the palace before leaning against the railing and watching Grogu play with a frog that hopped onto the balcony. “How’re you holding up, Din?”

She could hear Din quietly sigh on the other end. “It’s hard to not think about what happened to my parents, of course, but knowing that you and the kid are safe gives me piece of mind, helps me focus on the task at hand. We’ll get to the bottom of Plazir’s droid problem, and then we’ll finally have access to the Mandalorian mercenaries outside the dome.” The sound of a door sliding open echoed through the comm and Din muttered a quiet curse. “I have to go now, alor’ad, we’ve arrived at the morgue.”

(Y/N) fiddled with the sleeve of her gown and forced an upbeat tone as she replied, “All right, well…be careful, Din, and we’ll see you soon. I love you.”

“Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum, ner cyar’ika alor’ad.”

The next morning, Din and Bo-Katan were still busy investigating the droid malfunctions, so (Y/N) took advantage of her circumstances and asked the Duchess for permission to access the planet’s vast records in the hopes of finding any information on Jedi Master Kelleran Beq; while there was nothing in their records about the Jedi who’d saved Grogu’s life, there was still plenty of information on the history of the Jedi Order and their exploits throughout the Clone Wars, so (Y/N) spent her morning reading in the palace’s great hall while the royals and their guests played garden games.

“Okay, let me get that for you, m’lady. Your toss, lovely.”

Looking up from her holopad, (Y/N) watched as Captain Bombardier handed a furled pill-bug to the Duchess and when her gaze lowered to see Grogu sneakily peeking out from behind the folds of her elaborate gown, she giggled and hid her amused smile behind her hand. The Duchess sized up the glowing rings positioned around the artificial turf before tossing the furled pill-bug into the air; just as (Y/N) suspected, Grogu raised his clawed hand and used the Force to send the pill-bug flying, where it bounced off two crawling pill-bugs and through four rings. The crowd cheered and Grogu cooed in delight as the Duchess and Captain Bombardier clapped in happiness. “A Quadro-blast! I’ve never seen such a streak! Wasn’t that splendid, Captain (Y/L/N)?”

“It was a wonderful toss, Your Majesty,” (Y/N) complimented from her seat near the artificial lawn and gave Grogu a subtle wink when he looked her way.

The sound of the doors opening drew their attention away from the game, and (Y/N)’s brow furrowed in confusion when she saw Din and Bo-Katan escorting a handcuffed old man into the great hall. While (Y/N) slowly got to her feet, the royal couple cautiously approached the Mandalorians and Captain Bombardier tilted his head to the side in perplexity. “What are you doing with Commissioner Helgait?”

“We found the cause of your ‘malfunctions.’”

The guests gasped in shock and the Duchess held a hand to her chest. “Is this true?”

“I’m afraid it is, M’Lady.” Commissioner Helgait ducked his head in visible regret at the stunned tone in her voice.

Captain Bombardier shook his head in exaggerated disappointment. “Despicable.”

The old man let out a humorless chuckle. “If that isn’t the Quacta calling the Stifling slimy…”

“I beg your pardon?”

“This planet is unrecognizable since he arrived!”

“…I had a feeling you hated me.”

Ignoring the exchange between her husband and her head of security, the Duchess pursed her lips and fixed the old man with a saddened look. “I’m disappointed in you, Commissioner. You served my family well, but Captain Bombardier is the love of my life and I know his heart is true.” She rested a hand on her husband’s shoulder and flashed him a tender smile that he was quick to return; (Y/N)’s own eyes flicked over to Din, and she felt herself flush when she saw that the visor of his helmet was already angled towards her instead of the drama unfolding in the great hall. “Sure, he’s made some mistakes in the past, but who here among us has not? Is there no room for a little bit of forgiveness in a galaxy so vast?”

Commissioner Helgait nodded once and cast his gaze downwards. “I am sorry to have disappointed you, My Lady. Perhaps someday, I can earn such forgiveness from Your Grace.”

“Perhaps. As for now, you must live in exile on the moon of Paraqaat.” With a wave of the Duchess’ hand, four constable droids escorted the disgraced head of security from the great hall and after heaving a weary sigh, she turned to face (Y/N) and the two Mandalorians. “And as for you, Lady Bo-Katan Kryze, Din Djarin of Concordia and Captain (Y/N) (Y/L/N) of Naboo,” (Y/N) released the breath she’d inadvertently been holding when the Duchess used her preferred name instead of her legal one. “I grant you audience with our deployment of Mandalorian privateers. I also give to you three our highest honor, the key to Plazir.” She reached for an oversized key resting on a silver platter held by a servant droid and offered it out towards them. “You will always be welcome in our domed paradise.”

As (Y/N) moved to stand beside Din, Bo-Katan smiled and stepped forward to receive their honor. “M’Lady. M’Lord.”

“Captain (Y/N) (Y/L/N), I bequeath to you Plazir’s humble collection of Lomiya Corrik’s design sketches, personally commissioned by my family many cycles ago.” The Duchess smiled at (Y/N)’s stunned expression and handed her a leather-bound portfolio. “Although they held an honored place in my family’s collection, I hereby declare that they rightfully belong to the House of Corrik and its descendants.”

Swallowing the lump in her throat, (Y/N) clutched the portfolio to her chest and bowed her head in a sign of respect. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

The Duchess looked down at Grogu, who was still standing at her side, and accepted the sword that one of her guards offered her. “And to this little one, I grant knighthood.” As she gently tapped the tip of the sword against his tiny shoulders, Bo-Katan fought back a smile and (Y/N) beamed with pride. “You are now a knight of the Ancient Order of Independent Regencies.” Both royals looked up at the trio and the Duchess’ eyes gleamed with thankfulness. “Go in peace, brave travelers. Until our paths meet again.”

“M’Lord. M’Lady.” Din stepped forward to scoop Grogu up into his arms and after resting a gloved hand on the small of (Y/N)’s back, they turned and walked out of the great hall. “A Jedi padawan, a Mandalorian foundling and now a knight; the kid’s collecting titles quicker than the galaxy can come up with ‘em.”

(Y/N) chuckled and while they stepped into their hyperloop pod, she reached over to caress one of the cooing child’s large ears and gave him an affectionate smile as Din placed him in his floating pram. “Of course he is, who can resist this cute little face?” He giggled when her fingers tickled the patch of skin just beneath his chin, and she looked over at her husband as the pod started moving. “So, did that head of security say why he was making the droids malfunction like that?”

“He was a Separatist.” (Y/N)’s smile fell as she watched Din shift in his seat and stare down at his boots. “He wanted to use the droids to disrupt the planet and collapse their society in the name of democracy.”

Exchanging a knowing look with Bo-Katan, (Y/N) rested a hand on the side on her husband’s beskar helmet and gently coaxed him to look over at her before placing her hand flat on the center of his chestplate, directly over his heart. “But you and Bo-Katan stopped his plan before anyone was hurt; you saved the citizens of Plazir, and you saved the innocent droids that Commissioner Helgait hijacked to carry out his bidding. I know that that wasn’t easy for you, sweetheart, and I’m proud of you.”

Din’s gloved hand moved to cradle her cheek and guided her closer to rest his forehead against hers in a brief but meaningful Keldabe Kiss. “Thank you, alor’ad.” After a long moment, he pulled away and looked down at the leather-bound portfolio resting on her lap. “I’m glad that you were able to reclaim a piece of your mother and had the opportunity to see first-hand the lasting impact of her artistry. Can I take a look at her design sketches?”

“Now approaching landing field three.”

(Y/N) opened her mouth to grant him permission but when she caught sight of Bo-Katan staring pensively out at the vibrant green fields surrounding the domed city, she carefully tucked the portfolio into her satchel and nudged her husband’s boot with her own as she replied, “Maybe later, after we…um, talk to the Mandalorian mercenaries.”

Din nodded and when (Y/N) patted his knee, he cleared his throat and addressed the troubled Nite Owl seated across from them. “They’re Mandalorians. You’re their leader. They’re going to follow you.”

The anxious look remained on Bo-Katan’s face as her eyes flicked down to stare at her gloved hands. “I’m not their leader anymore. Axe Woves is.”

“Then what’s your play?”

She sighed and glanced back up to meet their gazes. “I’ll know when I get there.”

“Well, no matter what you decide to do out there, Din and I believe in you; there’s no one who’s better equipped to unite both factions of Mandalorians, Bo.” (Y/N) gave Bo-Katan an encouraging smile, and her heart warmed in her chest when the Nite Owl slowly returned it with one of her own. The hyperloop pod came to a stop and after stepping out onto the platform, they descended the many steps and walked across the vast field to where the Mandalorians established their base camp at its center; dozens of helmetless warriors stared them down as they slowly approached, and (Y/N) mumbled under her breath to Din, “At least when your covert stares, you can’t see all the judgmental looks they’re giving under their helmets.”

The Mandalorian huffed out a quiet chuckle and when the three of them stopped a handful of yards away from the base camp, Axe Woves straightened his back but remained seated on his cargo box and took a sip from his cup as he exchanged a glance with Koska Reeves, the Mandalorian warrior who’d helped them rescue Grogu from Moff Gideon. “Have you come back to join the mercenaries?”

Bo-Katan shook her head. “I’ve come to reclaim my fleet.”

“It’s no longer your fleet, is it?” Axe chuckled, gesturing around at the many ships and warriors that surrounded them. “I’m now in command, and grown quite fond of it.”

“Then I challenge you, one warrior to another.” (Y/N) and Din exchanged a look and Grogu anxiously cooed as the grin slipped off of Axe’s face and the Mandalorian mercenaries murmured amongst themselves; the Nite Owl’s stony expression remained unchanged as she stepped forward and harshly continued. “Do you accept my challenge?”

Setting his cup down, Axe slowly got to his feet and clenched his gloved hands at his side. “I do.”

There was tension in the air as the two Mandalorians stared each other down and the helmetless warriors seemingly held their breaths as they stood completely still and waited in anticipation for the challenge to begin. In the blink of an eye, Axe fired a missile from his vambrace and while Bo-Katan used her jetpack to avoid the weapon, Din whisked (Y/N) out of the way and used his beskar-clad body to shield her from the small-scale explosion; (Y/N)’s eyes widened in awe as she watched the Nite Owl slam her Mandalorian opponent onto the ground with a powerful kick to his chest, and she could feel her husband’s arms tighten around her waist when Axe drew his vibro-blade and engaged Bo-Katan in hand-to-hand combat. Both Mandalorians were perfectly matched, slashing and twirling around one another with deadly precision, which made (Y/N) nervously bite her lip even when Bo-Katan managed to knock Axe down a second time.

“It’s okay, kid,” Din comforted Grogu after he hid his face away in his clawed hands to avoid watching Axe fly straight into Bo-Katan and slammed her into the hull of a Kom’rk-class fighter transport. “Bo’s got this.”

They slashed at one another with their blades and each managed to land several blows, the scuffle escalating when Axe fired another missile and Bo-Katan tackled him to the ground; she roughly dragged him to his feet and held her vambrace’s blade to his throat, spitting out, “Do you yield?” With a strangled yell, Axe ignited his jetpack and flew them both into the air, where they landed harshly on the top of another Kom’rk-class fighter transport. They exchanged more blows and Bo-Katan toppled over the edge, but she quickly ignited her jetpack and fired her whipcord to wrap around the Mandalorian mercenary’s ankles, pulling him over the edge and watching him land on the grass below. Axe rolled onto his knee and fired his vambrace’s flamethrower but again, Bo-Katan was quicker; she activated her shield gauntlet to block the flames and flew through the air, tackling Axe onto the ground and pressing the tip of her blade against the exposed skin of his neck. “Do you yield?!”

“You’ll never be the true leader of our people,” Axe spat out, his eyes flicking over to where (Y/N) and Din stood and his lips curled into a sneer. “You won’t even take the Darksaber from him. He’s the one you should be challenging.”

“Enough Mandalorian blood has been spilled by our own hands!” With one final shove, Bo-Katan stood and retracted her vambrace’s blade as she looked around at the assembled Mandalorian mercenaries. “Mandalorians are stronger together.”

Axe picked himself off the ground and let out a mirthless laugh. “But a misguided zealot possesses the blade. One, I might add, who has not one drop of Mandalorian blood in his veins.”

(Y/N)’s hands clenched into tight fists and she angrily started forward, but Din’s halting grip on her waist and Bo-Katan’s sudden words stopped her dead in her tracks. “Din Djarin took the Creed and chose to walk the way, just as our ancestors did. He is every bit the Mandalorian that they were!” Her husband shifted uncomfortably beside her and she placed a soothing hand on the unarmored part of his arm. “Certainly as much as any of us…”

Shaking his head in frustration, Axe held his hands out and scoffed at the Nite Owl’s argument. “But according to our ways, the ruler of Mandalore must possess the Darksaber.”

“Then she shall have it.” (Y/N), Bo-Katan and the Mandalorian mercenaries all looked over at Din in surprise; the Mandalorian stood tall as he patted (Y/N)’s hand and crossed the field to where Bo-Katan and Axe were standing and without a single ounce of hesitation, he unclipped the Darksaber from his utility belt and held it out for the Nite Owl to take. “This belongs to you.”

Bo-Katan, although visibly touched by Din’s selfless gesture, shook her head and gently replied, “It’s not a gift to be given, no matter how well intended.”

“It’s not a gift,” He countered before turning to address the assembled Mandalorian mercenaries, all while a confused (Y/N) exchanged a look with an equally-baffled Bo-Katan. “While exploring Mandalore, my wife and I were captured and this blade was taken from me. Bo-Katan rescued us and slayed our captor. She defeated the enemy that defeated me; would this blade then not belong to her?” The Mandalorian mercenaries murmured amongst themselves, but none of them spoke up until Din repeated his question. “Would it not belong to her?”

After a long moment, Axe sighed and gave him a relenting nod. “It would.”

A smile tugged on the corner of (Y/N)’s lips as she watched her husband turn back to face Bo-Katan and once again held the Darksaber out for her to take. “I return this blade to its rightful owner.”

The Nite Owl slowly lifted her hand and wrapped her gloved fingers around the hilt, the look of uncertainty etched across her face slowly morphing into self-assurance when Din made his way back to where (Y/N) stood with Grogu’s pram and the other Mandalorians followed Koska’s lead in deferentially bowing their heads. With the barest hint of a smile, Bo-Katan took a deep breath and ignited the blade, staring down at its luminous glow and recognizing the culmination of nearly a thousand years of Mandalorian history in that moment.

“And you claim that you’re not one for politics,” (Y/N) teased when Din reached them and placed her hands on her hips as she arched an impressed brow. “I have to say, that was a political maneuver worthy of the New Republic Senate.”

“Coming from a former Rebel, I’ll take that as a compliment.” The Mandalorian patted a babbling Grogu on the head and handed over his silver sphere. “I never wanted the Darksaber, or the right to rule Mandalore. Bo-Katan is the leader that can reunite both factions Mandalorians, and I’ll be satisfied doing anything I can to ensure that her quest succeeds and our people can live a more peaceful life.”

With a tender smile, (Y/N) looped her arm around her husband’s elbow and stretched to press a kiss onto the beskar covering his cheek. “We both will.”

Din nodded and the two of them watched as the Mandalorian mercenaries offered their respects to Bo-Katan and acknowledged her claim to leadership of their faction. They were one crucial step forward on the road to reuniting the divided Mandalorians, but it was clear to each of them that they still had much more work ahead of them. Now we’ve gotta convince the mercenaries and the covert to get along and resist the urge to kill one another, (Y/N) thought to herself with an inward sigh, but if anyone can successfully squash generations of conflict and infighting, I suppose it’s us.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mando’a Translations:

Alor’ad-Captain Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum, ner cyar’ika alor’ad-I love you, my darling captain

A/N: Like I said last week, we’re having work done in the house and it’s been difficult finding time to write, but I’ll hopefully have the next chapter up on time! Thank you all so much for reading and commenting! Oh, and I’ve created a Spotify playlist of all my favorite music from the world of Star Wars, so if you’re interested in checking it out the link is down below!

Spotify Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2KuSKJhVOPPvxdJ9YHeo4M?si=2977ff31bf0c4bdd

Chapter Forty

Taking Care of Business Masterlist

Tagging: @remmysbounty @sinon36 @seninjakitey @thatonedindjarinfan @ginger-swag-rapunzel @mostclevermiss @momc95 @welcometothepedroverse @sarahjkl82-blog @elinedjarin @ccomandercody @crowleysqueenofhell @goldielocks2004 @wondergal2001 @groovy-lady @impala1967666 @fluffy-canada-pancakes @icee228 @siimiasoi

#taking care of business #din djarin x reader #din djarin x f!reader #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x f!reader #din djarin #the mandalorian #grogu #the child #baby yoda #bo katan kryze #the duchess #captain bombardier #commissioner helgait #axe woves #koska reeves #star wars

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kingdomsreign · 10 months

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@ourstoriesunfold Anakin's eyes, which at that moment had been meeting Padme's own, cut away and down. The boy brought a hand up to rub his shoulder self-consciously as he shifted his weight between his feet. "Wasn't so bad," he mumbled, not convincing in the slightest, even to his own ears. "Things are better now though," he said, brightening a touch. Though, there was still a trace of something dark and sad in his eyes when he brought his head back up. It had been two weeks since the Battle for Naboo. Two weeks since his life had been turned upside down. He had been freed. Now here he was, on the most beautiful planet he could imagine with the most beautiful girl he could imagine. There had been a hope of Jedi training... but they hadn't wanted him... After the parade in Theed following the battle, Padme had offered Anakin a place within the palace rather than return to Coruscant with Master Jinn and his Padawan. It hadn't been a hard choice to make. Especially once Master Qui-Gon had made it clear that it was his choice. He was free. But his mother was not. She was still on Tatooine. The past weeks had been hard without her.

Padme' averted her own glance down to her hands, thumbs tapping at one another as the boy fidgeted with his shoulder nervously. She hadn't meant to say that aloud, but it was strangely difficult to keep her thoughts to herself when she was around him as they both valued honesty. Especially from someone she might consider her best friend, as he was slowly but surely becoming over the past weeks. When Anakin finally spoke again Padme' glanced at him, watching him closely as he minimized what she was sure was awfully traumatic, knowing there were so many stories living within him that she could listen for hours and hours and still never hear them all. Her eyes met his when he looked up and she didn't miss the hint of darkened sadness inside them. Her cheeks flushed red out of embarrassment at being caught staring, but she didn't look away. "Ani, I'm your best friend. I can see that something's been bothering you," She began warmly, not intending to allow the sadness inside of him to linger without being allowed to express it. "We encourage the freedom of expression, communication and honesty here on Naboo. No one will punish you for talking about it, if you want to."

#ourstoriesunfold #v: once more with feeling #The Younger Years #Pilot's License

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iamtaran · 16 days

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Thanks for the tag! Also I'm curious about 'But for grace'!

Yours is one of the handles I see on my feed often enough that I feel like we live in the same internet neighborhood, so I had to invite you to the block party! 😎

Okay I know it's been a hot minute but house chores wait for no man (unfortunate), and I realized I was suddenly indecisive. Once I started thinking on it, it was so hard to choose a scene!! This is one of those fics that just snuck up. I love a good trope inversion - especially one as well-established when it comes to time travel fix its and modern-character inserts, so maybe it was inevitable once I started wondering what could go wrong. Especially when the answer is "Everything".

But For Grace Change. Never has it resounded through Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn as powerfully as it has since he met Anakin Skywalker.

Far above, battle yaws and heaves across the streets of Theed and its neighbouring marshlands where change marches on Naboo, on the Republic, and–were he honest–the entire galaxy. And here before him, change smiles at him with a Zabrak’s sharp teeth.

Qui-Gon knows he is beaten even before the Sith disarms him.

It’s in the intonation. Master Dooku coined the term when he was still a Padawan. The intonation of a duel, that teetering balance where two sensibilities meet and test the other. From within the battle trance, Qui-Gon feels the patterns falling into place.

I will die here.

The knowledge does not break his tranquillity. In the Force, life and death are no different. He does not fear. Instead, he sinks deeper. Crystalline awareness fills him, revealing facets within facets with every strike and counterstrike. Where Qui-Gon and the Sith meet seem fixed points planned long ago.

Perhaps they were. Do not crystals and minerals shatter in predeterminate patterns? Inherent within their structure—the inevitability of breaking.

When I fall, thinks Qui-Gon, the duel will be my Padawan’s to finish.

That is the first crack in his calm. At their next meeting, Qui-Gon misjudges the angle of a block and has to shift cadences to turn aside the following thrust before it skewers him. Seeing the mistake, the Sith redoubles and it is all Qui-Gon can do to follow. He breathes.

His Padawan is an exceptional duelist and Jedi. Obi-Wan has been ready for his knighting for some time. Qui-Gon can only trust in the Force and, more importantly, in his student and friend.

I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me. With his next breath, Qui-Gon releases the what-if’s and anxieties of the future. Be in the present. I need only trust and let go.

So Qui-Gon lets himself go and the Force to work through him.

Which is why an unexpected shift in the Force, not the moment nor the duel but the entirety of the Force, staggers him and nearly takes Qui-Gon off his feet.

His opponent recovers first. With a disdainful flick of his staff the Sith disarms him—Qui-Gon turns, too late—facets within facets; predeterminate; fixed—thrusts his saber into Qui-Gon Jinn.

Yet, for a second between turning and turned, time yawns and lengthens its back.

Where it arcs away, Qui-Gon’s saber appears suspended on air. It seems an age that he tracks it. Then, a figure coming round the core dressed in absolutely filthy clothing reaches up mid-stride and, as easy as pulling a fruit from a low branch, plucks Qui-Gon’s lightsaber from the air.

Time resumes its course. The red saber punches through him. Distant, Obi-Wan screams.

No blood pours off the red blade. The cup of Qui-Gon’s startled hands fills only with red light.

When their eyes meet, the Zabrak finally pulls the blade free, and then Qui-Gon feels it.

The Zabrak smiles as he pulls the blade free, triumphant, only for his eyes to widen. Twisting around, he brings his saber up into a high block just in time to catch Qui-Gon's blade on his own. At its other end, the person wielding it stares.

This Qui-Gon observes from the floor. When did I, he wonders; remembers, I blinked and–

“You,” sneers the Zabrak, “are no Jedi.”

The terrified face blanches. Wiry arms tremble, muscles and tendons standing out in thin wrists, yet the crossed blades don't so much as waver. The stranger gasps with effort, only to gasp again when the Sith brings a hand up between them.

“You thought to strike me?” Qui-Gon hears him say from a steadily growing distance. One of the servant’s hands flies up to claw at eir throat, first confusion then terror flashing over eir face. “You, barely more than an insect before me?” the Sith snarls, the muscles of his arm drawing taut as his fingers close further and further. “A worm? You would strike me?”

Yet a pit of sucking darkness in the Force, the Zabrak sears with rage. Even Qui-Gon, trying and failing to grasp the Force, feels singed by it.

Choking soft sounds, the servant scrabbles again at eir neck, then his hand, eir movements becoming jerky with desperation. The Zabrak bears pleased teeth.

“There could never be any conclusion but your death.”

Move, Qui-Gon thinks at his uncooperative body. While skin tone proves inscrutable beneath a layer of dust, the whites of the servant's eyes begin to redden with burst capillaries, and still he cannot summon his strength to move. He has no choice but to watch as the human stares into the Zabrak–the Sith’s eyes and mouths a word.

The change is instantaneous. Snake-strike fast, the Sith sheathes his weapon, locks a hand over their own on Qui-Gon’s hilt, and turns the saber back to menace em, buzzing just beneath their ear.

“How,” hisses the Sith over anguished choking, “do you know my name?”

For a moment, the only sound is the renewed scrambling of eir feet on marble. With a curt twitch, the Sith kisses the blade under the hinge of eir jaw. The smell of burnt skin boils around them, and what could only be a choked scream.

With tears cutting tracks down each cheek, eir mouth moves again. One word, over and over. The plasma blade threatens nearer.

“How?!” demands the Sith, spittle flying.

Heralded by the sound of his saber igniting, Obi-Wan leaps into the scene. The Zabrak has only enough time to hurl his prey aside and flip away from a vicious swing that would have bisected him at the waist. Undeterred, Obi-Wan follows not a half beat behind. Evasive momentum becomes an attack; becomes two, three, five strikes. Obi-Wan catches each of them with his saber.

Turning aside the final blow, Obi-Wan slips his blade in and breaks the Sith’s cadence. Just as Qui-Gon taught him, he twists into an attack and leaps—not accounting for the other end of the staff. Plasma burns a sharp line through Obi-Wan’s tunics and the skin beneath. Undeterred, he completes the strike. The Sith turns into the thrust like a dancer to practiced choreography. It shows the sort of fluid ease Qui-Gon might see in the Order’s most talented duelists.

That observation is the first thing to break through the sticky, creeping shock.

The first gasp of air soothes and burns so powerfully that Qui-Gon must barely have breathed before. Heaving for breath, he finds his numb hands in a flood of adrenaline. Pressing hard at his wound—through his flank, not the diaphragm as intended—he feels sweat erupt across his face.

Gritting his teeth, Qui-Gon fumbles at his belt with thick fingers, all the while aware of the duel ionizing the air meters away. By the time he manages to extract the bacta pod and slit it with his thumbnail, he is beyond winded. The edges of his vision threaten grey. Breathing deep, Qui-Gon squeezes bacta into his wound.

Slowly the painkilling properties make themselves known, and Qui-Gon is able to feel, taste, see, smell something other than pain.

The duel has unspooled across the space. As he turns his head to watch, he cannot fail to see one fact.

His Padawan fights magnificently.

Along the borders of the platform the duel heaves and yaws, fast and staccato with blows. Where Qui-Gon’s duel against the Sith found openings through circles within circles, Obi-Wan spears incessantly forward, never turned aside but merely rerouted. The momentum of every block and counterstrike he transforms into renewed offensive and neatly turns his enemy’s strength back upon him. In a stroke of revelation, Qui-Gon thinks I have to teach that boy Soresu.

When the duel moves into his periphery, Qui-Gon lets it and his feelings go and sinks into a healing meditation.

Having assessed and stabilized the insult dealt to his body, when he emerges perhaps a minute later, it is to see the Sith unwinding a series of vicious strikes. Tighter and tighter he winds each revolution until he hammers Obi-Wan’s defences. In comparison, Obi-Wan moves with that pared down, lean efficiency that suddenly reminds Qui-Gon of his old master.

In so spare a style, the first unexpected flourish takes his opponent by surprise. The Zabrak loses a half-beat, cedes a step.

It could be a fluke. They trade blows. Yet in the gasp of a feinted block—there, again! Obi-Wan breaks the weave with a move Qui-Gon recognizes yet doesn’t.

I didn’t teach him that, he thinks with a growing sense of pride. Obi-Wan winds around the Zabrak, and Qui-Gon sees it. It’s as if Obi-Wan is taking the Sith’s own style and abbreviating it, then turning it back on him.

They enter a whip fast dialogue, blades crashing and sparking. Already spotted with small chars and burns, the Sith takes a long swipe across one hand that, with a flash of sparks, clips one emitter. That blade sputters and dies.

The intonation! Nearly bursting with un-Jedi-like pride, Qui-Gon watches the circle break open as the Zabrak jumps back, shifts a heel, and enters a new single bladed style. He’s changed it!

This time the Zabrak leads them into an exchange nearly too quick to see. First one way then the other, momentum turning and ricocheting, and still he fails to make a hit. The pall of his frustration swells in the Force. With a snarl the Zabrak twists from a feint into a low, lethal thrust.

Quicksilver, Obi-Wan slithers his blade around the Sith’s, twists it first up the red blade, turning it aside; then up the red arm, leaving behind a spiral of seared skin. Finally, Obi-Wan’s blade slides home neatly under one collarbone.

Surprise slackens the Sith’s face. Then he falls, and is still.

“Good job."

Obi-Wan whirls. “Master!”

“I’m alright,” Qui-Gon insists when Obi-Wan reaches him at a run. Crouching beside him, Obi-Wan snorts. His master has a good sabacc face, but given the sharp breath he draws when Obi-Wan helps him sit, he isn’t buying it.

“You were stabbed, that is far from alright.” His voice comes out sharper than intended. “What happened, Master?”

Despite the characteristic impatience when faced with the unknown, Obi-Wan levels his question whilst cajoling Qui-Gon’s arm away from his side with gentle hands. Qui-Gon huffs.

“I’m not sure,” he admits at length, finding himself somewhat miffed by the admission. “You felt it too?”

“The shift in the Force? Yes, of course,” Obi-Wan confirms. “I’ve never felt anything like it. I almost thought it would take me off my feet.”

“Yes, well,” says Qui-Gon peevishly, “be grateful you weren’t fighting the Zabrak when it happened.”

There is quiet for a moment.

"It's something to be considered at another time." He carefully fends off Obi-Wan’s insistent hands. "For now, go see to our friend.”

He directs Obi-Wan across the chamber with a pointed look. Obi-Wan hesitates.

At last he stands, momentarily shamed. A Jedi should always see to the well-being of others first.

“Stay right here,” Obi-Wan commands, trying to recover himself. He doesn’t expect Qui-Gon to obey, but it still demands saying. “Don't try to move until I can take a look at that.”

Which is why he is not at all surprised when, less than a minute later, he hears, “How is ee?”

“I thought I told you to stay there,” Obi-Wan grouses without heat as Qui-Gon joins him. “I’m not sure yet.”

Their friend proved to be young, human, and uniformly smudged a dirty grey. Without any obvious injuries beyond the known, caution is still necessary. It is as Obi-Wan feels for any obvious breaks that ee begins to stir.

“It’s alright,” he tells em, deeply aware of eir quick harsh breaths. Bloodshot eyes flutter. “It’s over now. You’re safe.”

With some doing and Obi-Wan’s assistance, ee manages a sitting position.

“Slowly,” says Obi-Wan, offering support where he can. Ee moves with the hesitance of someone who doesn't know where a pain starts or ends, and one arm remains clamped around eir middle “Take your time. Try to breathe slowly.”

“That’s good,” says Qui-Gon when ee seems a tad steadier. “Are you hurting anywhere?”

At his voice, ee jolts into Obi-Wan, who grunts. Qui-Gon retracts his hand from eir shoulder quickly, holding it in clear sight.

“Easy! Easy,” he repeats. A pair of huge eyes find him. “You’re safe.”

“You–”

A coughing fit so hoarse that Qui-Gon winces sympathetically obliterates whatever ee meant to say.

Inspired, Qui-Gon fumbles the last hydropod from his belt with his offhand and tosses it. After so many years as a unit, Obi-Wan catches it without looking. He tears the corner with his teeth and offers it.

“Here, drink this. Don’t try to speak.”

While ee drinks it in nervous sips, Obi-Wan finally manages to bully Qui-Gon into giving him a proper look at his side. The first glimpse makes him hiss.

“Master, that's-”

“-Not bad,” says Qui-Gon pointedly, “given he was aiming to kill me.”

“Well, it’s certainly not good!”

Clearly looking to redirect his apprentice, Qui-Gon asks around his industrious Padawan, “Beside your neck, are you hurt anywhere else? No broken bones?”

Their friend shakes eir head. Between them, Obi-Wan sighs but begins applying a dressing as best he can with limited supplies.

At first sight of Qui-Gon’s side when Obi-Wan shifts, their friend makes a horrified sound like a malfunctioning hullscraper. As if compelled to touch, ee reaches out only to snatch eir hand back just as quickly.

“It’s alright. I’ll be fine,” Qui-Gon says to eir guilty glance and pointedly ignores Obi-Wan’s disparaging snort. “It could have been much worse.”

“Alive.” The whisper is rough and completely removed from what a normal human voice sounds like. After a moment, eir meaning registers.

“That I am. And it’s in no small part thanks to your interference, my friend…?”

Voice coming and going in pops and fits, it takes a few tries and more than a little lip reading.

“Fe Lii-Shen?” is what at last which earns him a nod. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

Ee is not. By all accounts, the worst of it remains the burn pressed just behind the hinge of eir jaw, about three inches long and the exact width of a lightsaber blade. It stands out lurid and angry against the ring of bruises rapidly forming about eir neck.

“That was a very brave thing you did, Fe Lii-Shen— and exceedingly reckless, I might add.” Qui-Gon meets eir surprise with stern brows. “Coming between two duelists with lightsabers is incredibly dangerous. What were you thinking?”

Lii-Shen’s eyebrows perform an exclamative leap. Ee croaks, “You—dead!”

Eir distress is vibrant, both past and present. Sighing, Qui-Gon clasps eir shoulder. Even having watched him move, Lii-Shen stills like a startled grazer.

“Whilst I can’t say I condone such recklessness with your life,” he says, softening enough to crack a wry smile, “I am grateful nonetheless. And now to return the favour.” Thanking Obi-Wan for his help, he quickly resettles his robes and cautiously stands to offer a hand. “Those wounds want a healer. If your throat continues to swell, it could interfere with your breathing.”

Confirming that there are no hidden injuries or breaks, the two dress Lii-Shen’s neck with bacta dressings in hopes of heading off any swelling. That finished and resettling his arm protectively across the wound, Qui-Gon takes a moment to stop his padawan and examine the familiar line of his brow, much changed from childhood yet somehow utterly the same. Obi-Wan blinks at him quizzically.

“When the Zabrak disarmed me, I knew you would have to fight him.” Landing a hand between neck and shoulder, Qui-Gon gives him a squeeze. “I can admit I was afraid.”

Obi-Wan clears his throat. “Given how many times I have tried to do the same only to be the one disarmed, it’s no wonder!”

“It’s good to practice,” Qui-Gon intones lightly, allowing himself to relax into the familiar patter. “Your lightsaber is your life, Padawan.”

Obi-Wan groans. “How many more times must I hear this lecture, Master?”

“Given that you defeated the enemy that I could not,”—Obi-Wan’s shocked face flashes up—“I believe I can confidently say you no longer need it. You have surpassed me, Padawan.”

Qui-Gon allows that pride to fill him again; not only fill, but to flow down their training bond, and smiles when Obi-Wan can only stare, a pleased flush creeping into his ears. Qui-Gon claps him on the shoulder a final time.

“But these are talks for another time. Lii-Shen, are you well enough to–” he begins and stops.

Stop because Lii-Shen has peeled eir arm from its protective curl to reveal the familiar glint of his saber’s hilt. That he had neither noticed its absence nor felt its proximity strikes him momentarily dumb.

Clearly misreading his reaction, Lii-Shen winces.

“Sorry.”

Lifting it with filthy hands at odds with eir reverence, in an unexpectedly charming gesture Lii-Shen bows to press eir brow to its hilt before offering it back to him.

“Sorry,” ee rasps again, “if - shouldn't.”

Despite the current state of things, Qui-Gon feels his lips twitch as he receives it. Something about it all; there’s no describing what strikes him. Eir grey figure, nearly comedic. A man returned his own right hand, perhaps.

What he says is, “Quite alright, given the circumstance.”

Obi-Wan clears his throat. “What was that about a Jedi’s lightsaber, Master?”

“Yes, thank you, Obi-Wan.”

At that moment, an explosion shakes the palace walls somewhere above them. Muffled only marginally by a thick hundred meters of stone and the din of the plant, the following shockwave claps through them all. Their ears pop. Lii-Shen loses eir feet. The rumbling of the aftershocks linger long moments afterwards, syphoning away into a sub auditory shake before finally subsiding.

Through the ringing in their ears, the two Jedi hear a hoarse exclamation.

“Anakin!”

Dumbstruck, their eyes meet. Then, “Wait!”

By the time Obi-Wan breaks through his shock to call out, Lii-Shen is already darting away.

The two Jedi catch em in the next chamber just as ee opens a hidden panel in the wall. It leads through a solid meter of marble into a narrow, dusty corridor choked with piping and bundles of wires.

Seeing them come up alongside, Qui-Gon a half step behind his Padawan, Lii-Shen gestures, beckoning.

“Come.”

“Now, wait a moment-”

Lii-Shen does not, but slithers into the dimness. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan share a look loaded with questions. Frowning, Qui-Gon extends a sour hand.

“After you.”

The corridor proves even more constricting than first glance, and while Obi-Wan has only a little height on their guide, Qui-Gon has no such luck. Besides finding the corridor slim to the point of discomfort, the two also find themselves tripping over the odd crate or defunct mouse droid.

After a dozen cramped meters of slithering, ducking, and careful negotiations, Obi-Wan spots Lii-Shen’s dim silhouette ahead. Panting with the awkward exertions, he draws near enough to differentiate the new layer of grime liberally coating Lii-Shen’s bonnet-cap before asking, “Where are we?”

“Maint’nance.”

“Why?”

The distinctive look passed over Lii-Shen’s shoulder suggests ee is unimpressed. Ee presses on.

“We’ve been in contact with Panaka working with the rebel forces,” he says, tucking around a series of steaming pipes with a wince. “I hadn’t heard anything about a contingent holed up in the palace.”

A dark eye flashes back at him.

“Secret.”

Ee can’t speak for a few metres, though this coughing might simply be the dust in the air.

“Stuck,” says Lii-Shen when ee’s able. Prying himself out of the passage behind Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon manages to sneeze irately as he begins shaking clouds from his robes as well. Both Jedis’ robes have already begun to grey to match Lii-Shen’s outfit, and no matter how he snorts and wipes his fave, Obi-Wan cannot seem to escape the clinging dust. “Survived.”

“How have you all managed to remain hidden?”

Lii-Shen smacks the outer wall meaningfully.

“The thick marble,” says Obi-Wan with an air of epiphany. “The droids can’t detect you through the stone?”

Their guides flashes him the white crescent of eir teeth, but no further answers.

Behind him, Qui-Gon grunts in what could be either agreement or that he’s received a light scalding from one of the pipes. Despite the less than ideal situation and his concerns for his Master with all this wriggling, Obi-Wan has to hide a smile. Though he would pretend to be disaffected, Qui-Gon hates tight spaces, especially when it means being forced to squeeze and crawl through. While Obi-Wan doesn’t know if it’s discomfort or indignity, he does know that Qui-Gon is going to be a bear about it.

As if sensing the direction of his thoughts, Qui-Gon grouses, “Padawan.”

“Something the matter, Master?”

“Here,” caws Lii-Shen ahead, ignorant to or simply ignoring their byplay.

In short order however Obi-Wan finds himself ducking his head under a low hanging pipe only to emerge into some sort of war camp.

Almost as large as the one they had left in the plasma processing core, the space overflowed with the humid presence of many living bodies, seemingly all of them in frantic motion. Those who could stand helped those who couldn’t gather belongings, reload weapons, bind wounds, or feed the convalescent. Two cooks shimmered with sweat over primitive open flame stoves, stirring large cauldrons, while on the opposite side of the room three older humans hunched around an ancient comms unit, taking notes.

There had to be nearly two dozen humans scattered about the room in between a mishmash of crates, containers, and jerryrigged barriers. Lii-Shen strides through the chaos without pause, headed for the two humans standing guard just behind a makeshift cover.

As Obi-Wan approaches after having assisted Qui-Gon in ducking the pipes, he hears the shorter of the two asking in a burnished voice, “Did the charging station work?”

Lii-Shen face twists with guilt as ee shakes eir head. Then, to Obi-Wan’s fascination, they made a flat fingered gesture as if plucking a stray hair at the temple and throw it away.

“You don’t know?” The woman frowned. Stout and of a middling age, it folded fierce lines between her thick brows and seemed to cow Lii-Shen completely. “Did you not check? And who is this you’ve brought with you?”

Obi-Wan jumped. He hadn’t even seen her look his way!

Stepping forward with an ease Obi-Wan still felt in want of, Qui-Gon interrupted smoothly, “Whatever the goal, I’m afraid Lii-Shen was distracted away from it by my Padawan and I. We were in need of assistance. I’m afraid ee’s been injured in the process.”

The woman looked at him skeptically. Her hand, whilst landing on her hip, Obi-Wan noted was also now very close to the holster affixed there.

“And you are?”

“Jedi,” Lii-Shen rasped helpfully.

The woman blinked surprise at their guide but quickly narrowed her eyes at Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon. “Jedi? Now? Where were you weeks ago when this invasion started?”

“Assisting Her Majesty to safety beyond the influence of the Trade Federation,” said Obi-Wan with supreme mildness, feeling irked. “Who are these people? What are you doing here? We haven’t seen any other civilians in the palace.”

These people were listening, and had perked up at the mention of the Queen. Murmurs blossomed around the room. Within moments a number of dirty faced, tired looking people were crowding around the conversation. It was only seeing them pressing close, all equally worn and coated in uniform grime over uniform cloth, that sparked realisation.

“You’re the palace staff!” He looked around the room with new eyes. “You’ve been here all along?”

Indeed, the more he looked the more he began to recognize the once pristine uniforms, the mechanics’ and engineers’ coveralls, the guard’s utiles covered in piecemeal armor.

And all of them absolutely filthy, he noted. Whatever grey dust or dirt coated Lii-Shen also adorned these people, creating the impression that he spoke with a host of ghosts straight from a youngling story.

“That’s right,” said the woman with a touch of pride. “I’m Mauda Seshnu. You’re in Bent Neck camp. We’ve a few other boltholes scattered throughout the palace.”

“And you’ve been hidden here throughout?”

Mauda pressed grim lips in Qui-Gon’s direction. He supposed it might have been a smile, were the face it belonged to less dour.

“We’ve been resisting here, most of us Dusters from day one. The tinheads are stupid,” she sniffed. “They’ve never found the tunnels and staff ways.”

Qui-Gon looked impressed; not an easy feat by any means. “Using the maintenance corridors was ingenious. With stone so thick, their sensors had no chance of penetrating.”

She shrugged [elephantly]. “They haven’t yet, at least. We'll be ready when they do.”

“How many are you? Are you armed?”

“Damn right we’re armed,” came an interjection. The lanky ginger teenager who had been on guard duty with Mauda finally spoke up, seemingly having taken offence to the way he glanced doubtfully at the blasters at their sides. Puffing up, she looked nothing so much as an offended heron, all elbows and knees. “But there’s been skirmishes in the Gilded Wing and along the colonnades. Most of ours who are gassed went for a supply run and to kriff with the gearheads.”

“We’re forty-three in number, twenty-some armed,” said Mauda, answering his question.

“All palace staff?” asks Obi-Wan, still boggling.

“Some came from surrounding areas looking for safety,” Mauda said, “or who were caught outside. Lii-Shen here was one such.”

Hearing eir name, Lii-Shen looked up from the crate ee had been pawing through to lift eir brows at Mauda. Ee thumped eir fourth finger to sternum a couple of times.

Mauda returned the motion, lips quirking as Lii-Shen returned to eir hunt. “Couldn’t have been on Naboo long, we think. Unlucky, that.”

Turning back to meet their quizzical looks, Mauda snorted, “You’ve not spent much time on Naboo, have you? It’s a local sign. Means alright, all good.” She thumped out the sign one more time for emphasis.

“I see,” said Qui-Gon, and Obi-Wan thought he spoke of more than local hand signs. He surveyed Bent Neck Camp and Lii-Shen critically.

As conversation paused between them, Mauda gazed out over the shapes of her people around the room. On closer inspection, Qui-Gon sensed from her a great sadness. Given her stony features, its poignancy surprised him.

“We were sixty-some at our greatest,” she said like someone musing to herself.

“You have our condolences.” Obi-Wan bowed his head along with his Master’s. Mauda sniffed, apparently through with any temporary softness.

“We don’t want condolences, we want this to end! What use are two Jedi to Naboo when she’s crawling with droids and Neimoidiens?”

“Much, we hope,” said Qui-Gon plainly. “We’ve come accompanying Her Majesty’s contingent and the Gungan army in liberating the palace, Theed, and–hopefully–all of Naboo.”

For the first time since meeting her, Mauda’s tight face unfurled like an unclenching fist.

“Liberate!” She exclaimed. Without the deep frown lines, Qui-Gon reckoned her age downward half a decade or more. “But how?”

At the same time, her young companion exclaimed, “We’ll fight!” She yanked the blaster from her hip with burning eyes and stepped closer, almost beseeching. “Let us fight with you!”

“Nanyi!” Mauda snapped before either could reply. “Put that away. If you’re not about to use it, it shouldn’t be in your hand.”

“Mom!”

“We are to remain here,” Mauda said through tight lips. “Don’t forget yourself. Protecting our people is more important than fool glory. Holster. Now.”

Wilting visibly at the reprimand as what little of her face visible under the grime reddened almost to match the hanks of hair that fell about it, Nanyi did as ordered. Reaching over to take her arm with a brisk hand, Mauda delicately wiped the hair falling into her face back under her bonnet’s soft material where it belonged, then irrefutably pressed Nanyi back a step behind her shoulder.

She squared said shoulders at the Jedi.

“If you need fighters, ours aren’t here. And we here can’t fight for you.”

Lii-Shen, having returned to their sides with two small hydro packets, bristled seemingly on their behalf. Qui-Gon lifted a placating hand. “We would not ask you to do so, nor I think do we need it. The skirmishes and unrest you mentioned,” he addressed to Nanyi. “Queen Amidala’s forces are fighting as we speak and have already managed to free dozens of pilots. They’ve taken to the skies in hopes of destroying the droid control ship.”

Painfully hopeful and clearly trying not to show it, Nanyi asked, “You think they could take it out?”

Qui-Gon nodded and pretended not to see the teenager slip her dust gray hand into her mother’s.

“All we ask is for a guide through the maintenance corridors to the Guard’s hangar.”

Mauda cocked a shrewd brow. “Not up to the main corridors? Yes, yes,” she waved away both of their opening mouths. “With a wound like that, it’s no wonder you’d like to avoid any patrols.”

Having kept his arm casually pressed into his side this entire time, Qui-Gon hadn’t thought his state obvious. His already stellar impression of Mauda’s capabilities rose further. Rather than say so, he bowed his head with a wry quirk of his lips.

“We would be in your debt.”

Her own mouth twitched reluctantly before she turned. Lingering uncertainly there, Lii-Shen looked like a sooty shadow. Mauda looked em over critically.

“You know the way to Skip Camp,” she said in broad tones, moving hands and face in exaggerated mimery with her meaning. It was the first moment either Jedi became aware that Lii-Shen's shortness sprang as much from a lack of fluency as from eir wound. Lii-Shen nodded anyway.

Qui-Gon frowned. “Is there no one else? Lii-Shen was injured coming to my aid. I don’t think–”

“There’s no one,” Mauda said bluntly, eyes flat. “It’s not a limb or an eye, and seeing as we’ve been out of bacta for nearly two weeks they have been better cared for than any of our others.”

Now it was Qui-Gon’s turn to frown. Obi-Wan could sense how little he liked her answer. Following his Master’s gaze, cataloguing burn and bruises and burst capillaries, Obi-Wan was inclined to agree. Yet besides a pair of prodigiously dirty bare feet, no new revelations leapt out at him. If being thrown had harmed em, it hadn’t shown itself at least.

At length, Qui-Gon sighed. They had few other options, and could feel in the Force that things were not over.

“I see.”

Mauda searched his expression, her own inscrutable as a cliff face, before she said, “They’re a tough one. Have to be, with what they lived through. Now get going, and if you see our Dusters out there, let ‘em know we’re well.”

Seen off as smartly as by a palace drill sergeant, Lii-Shen, Qui-Gon, and Obi-Wan set off.

The new corridor they took was no wider than the first, and if they weren't before quickly Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon found themselves coated in the same dingy layer as the palace resistance.

The second leg of their trip was over almost before it had begun. Between twists and turns Lii-Shen stopped along an inconspicuous stretch of tunnel. Obiwan was about to ask, only to be struck mute when the wall slid noiselessly open, releasing a tidal wave of sound.

Fighters screamed from the open hangar gates just over the heads of resistance fighters engaged in a standoff against contingents of armed droids. As their small group darted from the service entrance, blaster bolts zipped out from what seemed all directions, yipping in high chorus. From cover behind a pile of durasteel crates it was clear to see that the Resistance, while holding strong, was vastly outnumbered.

Squadrons of droids cluttered the various entrances at the far end, cutting off any chance of retreat or reinforcements on foot. While the bottleneck created by the doorways temporarily held them back and the many scattered and sparking chassis across the floors spoke to the ferocity of the palace fighters, here and there between sparking metal were the clear shapes of the fallen. Too many.

Yet even as the two Jedi did what they could to signal for Lii-Shen to stay here and loped towards the nearest ingress to provide cover, the air shifted.

A moment later it was broken by a concussive blast that, sweeping in through the hangar doors, bowled many from their feet. Having felt the warning in the Force a moment before impact, master and apprentice just managed to crouch low and brace.

This meant they were still upright to see the first wave of droids buckle. Those closest fell only to reveal their fellows behind also toppling, and the ones behind those. With growing momentum, the stone around them rang then clattered with the din of metal as it struck the ground, until the whole world seemed blotted by the tremendous sound. Just as suddenly as it began, it ceased. As if their strings had been cut, every droid within the palace had collapsed.

A confused cry rang out from the remaining fighters. Those who had frozen in shock or wonder were quickly shaken awake by the excited hands of friends and allies. Steadily, the calls of alarm became those of shocked triumph.

For the two Jedi, there came in the Force a sense like a great sigh released.

Having extended their sabers in preparation, Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon slowed, then stopped altogether. Taking in the chaos as confusion steadily slipped into raucous elation, the pair extinguished their sabers with shared rueful grins.

“I suppose they didn't need us after all,” said Obi-Wan.

Qui-Gon opened his mouth to reply something equally dry, only to have his attention pulled away by a tug at his sleeve.

Lii-Shen grinned up at him, eir white teeth as shocking the second time. With the rising noise, Qui-Gon couldn't hear whatever ee managed to whisper.

He leaned until they were nearer in height. “Say again?”

This time Lii-Shen spoke almost in his ear.

“Anakin.”

They hadn't found time before, but it had remained near the forefront of his mind all this time. Even so, his mouth fell open to be so surprised again.

“What?”

“Droids dead.” All the hair stood on his neck as he followed eir pointed finger towards the hangar gates, where fighters streamed in for their berths. “Anakin - come back - soon,” ee repeated with a blazing grin, then flitted off into the building crowd.

Dumbstruck Qui-Gon stared after em, watching em find a dirty figure amongst the heave of bodies to clasp in a hug.

“Master?”

Qui-Gon shook his head at his apprentice’s questioning tone.

“Let’s find the boy,” was all he said. Despite the elation surrounding him, he felt something was off. He recalled the massive shift in the Force that had cost him his concentration, and quite nearly his life, and frowned. “Come on. Let’s search the hangar and surrounding corridors.”

When the two Jedi couldn’t find young Anakin and the fighter he had been hiding in, nor any other bolthole he might be waiting in, Qui-Gon commented on the conspicuous absence of the fighter and the R2 droid.

“He wouldn’t,” Obi-Wan groaned. “He’s nine!”

Qui-Gon simply chuckled, shaking his head.

“I believe I heard similarly ill-adviced tales about a certain initiate. Mark me, that boy’s a pilot to his bones,” he reminded Obi-Wan. It wasn't an excuse, but a deeply held conviction, despite knowing Anakin for so short a time. Yet in his mind, Qui-Gon was seeing a finger pointed towards the hangar gates. He couldn't shake the sense of something being wrong. Regardless, they settled in to wait for his return.

“Master Jinn!”

Some minutes later upon the Queen’s approach the two Jedi sense something is amiss. The pall of distress proceeds her entourage in the Force.

“Your Majesty?”

Qui-Gon addresses his words to the resplendent figure of Queen Amidala in her ceremonial finery, but his eyes flicker momentarily to the white-faced handmaiden at her side.

The Padmé that approached them with quick strides, while mussed, was uninjured to the naked eye. As she neared, however, it became clear that it was worry and not victory which lit there. She looked the two Jedi over in a half second, and her face fell.

Whereas the figural Queen– Sabé, he believes– is suspiciously bright eyed, Padmé does nothing to hide the tears gathering in her eyes. Qui-Gon's heart sinks prophetically.

She says only one thing. “Anakin.”

Anakin didn’t return.

#taran writes #i decided to just chuck the beginning on here because it was so much fun and i'm super fond of the dusters #and obi and qui-gon's repartee #are these meant to be shorter segments?#if so oops i just get so excited #also I had forgotten but before this WIP was titled But For Grace #I'm pretty sure I had it titled When The Stone Falls Up

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sw5w · 3 months

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Behind the Back

STAR WARS EPISODE I: The Phantom Menace 02:01:35

The interesting thing in this shot is you can actually see the prop lightsaber used by Ray Park as Darth Maul here, when the "glow" effect is slightly off from the angle of the prop weapon.

#Star Wars #Episode I #The Phantom Menace #Naboo #Theed #Battle of Theed #Battle of Naboo #Plasma Refinery Complex #Duel of the Fates #Obi-Wan Kenobi #Obi-Wan Kenobi's lightsaber #Darth Maul #Darth Maul's lightsaber #power cell reserve cap #security activator #utility pouch #diatium power cell

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moonstrider9904 · 2 years

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Traitorous Truth

Chapter Five of Half-Moon Glow

Pairing: Crosshair x Female OC (Aurora Dawn)

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Summary: As the squad tries to put a spoiled shore leave behind them, Clone Force 99 are led to Cristophsis to try and negotiate with the cold and suspicious Osi Sobeck.

Word count: 4.7k

Tags/warnings: Mature (still 18+). Injuries, mild blood and some blood loss (not explicit), minor side character death, lots of angst, hostage situation, foul language, threats of torture and killing.

A/N: Nope, this is not at all like what I usually write, but it was oddly fun to write this one. There’s a load of angst in this one, so (affectionate) Get wrecked, fuckers (affectionate).

It was safe to say that shore leave on Naboo had been ruined.

The obvious tension lingering in the rooms whenever Crosshair and Aurora found themselves in the same spot would only dissipate when one of them left, and despite the anger reflected within the medic, Hunter couldn’t ignore the heartbreak in her eyes.

Everyone had gone their separate ways. Tech stuck to his own prototypes, valuing progress in his projects above whatever else could have gone wrong regarding personal relations. It was simply safer. Wrecker and Aurora bonded over the heartbreak they’d both felt, spending most of their time in one tavern or another drinking away, not quite bringing themselves to finding someone new even for a meaningless rebound.

Hunter could tell they’d both broken.

Meanwhile, the sniper was either resting in his room or off on his own, and no one quite knew where he was. Perhaps he’d found a corner on the higher levels of the building where no one would disturb him, a place perfect for sniping if the war were to reach Theed, or perhaps he’d found a more obscure bar where none of his squad mates or even fellow troopers would go. Crosshair was as avoidant and mysterious as ever.

But perhaps it was for the best.

Hunter was left on his own to observe how those around him tried—and sometimes failed—to make the best of what they went through. From the outside, Hunter could make out a number of details from the way Aurora’s eyes were swollen each morning when she woke, no doubt having cried herself to sleep at Crosshair’s absence, to the amount of dirty looks that Clone Force 99 was receiving by the time they had to leave Naboo.

Though not unusual, each of the genetically-enhanced clones seemed to be getting more glares than they normally would. The others didn’t care; they had too much to deal with on their own, but given recent events, Hunter couldn’t afford to let such a blatant change in behavior towards them slip by.

In his investigations, he’d found out another breach of data had occurred at the hands of the spy while they were on their leave, and the breach had been stationed on Naboo.

And once again, their questionable reputation came back to bite them from behind.

“You still there, sergeant?”

Hunter snapped out of his momentary daze and his attention was brought back to the holo comm, where a small version of commander Cody looked up at him, expecting a reply.

“Sorry, commander,” Hunter said. “Just pondering on all the coincidences.”

“Which are?” Cody prompted.

“Whoever this spy is, they seem to be following us around,” Hunter confessed.

“And so, you understand the position your squad is in,” Cody replied. “I don’t suspect of you or any of your men for a second, so I think we can kill two birds with one stone for this.”

“Sir?”

“I have a mission available on Christophsis,” Cody began. “Relations haven’t been as tight since our battle there, and right now all military operations on Christophsis are under the command of captain Osi Sobeck. He’s a tough nut to crack, so I need you to go and negotiate terms with him to hopefully agree on setting up a base there.”

Hunter and Tech exchanged a doubtful look—negotiations weren’t a strength for Clone Force 99—and Hunter then looked back at Cody.

“We’ll do what you ask, commander, but how is this going to help our situation?” Hunter said.

“This mission is new and relatively secret,” Cody said. “Only you, me, and Wolffe know about it as of now. If any intel related to your whereabouts were to get out while you’re there, we can confirm that this spy has something to do with you, since they’ll have had to follow you to get there, and it’ll help us direct efforts to stop them. If any intel gets out from anywhere else, we could use that to your defense in the meantime.”

Hunter nodded briefly. “Alright, we’ll do it.”

With the sound of Tech punching coordinates into the hyperdrive in the background, Hunter noticed as Cody seemed to briefly soften in the hologram.

“How’s Aurora holding up?” the commander asked, the question not surprising Hunter even in the least.

He sighed. “She’s saved our skins many times.”

“You’d tell me if she was struggling in any way, right?” said Cody.

“I haven’t lost faith,” Hunter replied, knowing that any more detail was unnecessary. “But if worst comes to worst, I’ll tell you.”

“Very well,” Cody replied, straightening his back as though slipping back into his role of commander. “I’ll send you the details of the negotiation shortly.”

“Thank you,” Hunter said, and the hologram powered down, leaving the cockpit in silence.

“Christophsis it is?” Tech asked to confirm.

Hunter nodded. “Christophsis it is.”

With the push of a lever, Tech sent the Havoc Marauder into hyperspace; it would hopefully not be a very long trip to their destination. Shortly after, the doors to the cockpit hissed open, revealing Aurora with Wrecker walking closely behind her.

It calmed Hunter down to see the two of them behaving almost like normal again.

“I thought I heard a hologram in here,” Aurora said.

“Yeah,” Hunter replied. “Cody says hi.”

“Ah,” she nodded as she walked over to the copilot seat as Tech engaged autopilot.

“He also gave us our next assignment,” Hunter continued, during which the last member of the squad made his way into the cockpit.

Crosshair’s presence raised the wall of tension once more.

“We’re heading for Christophsis,” Hunter addressed him.

“I heard,” Crosshair replied as he walked to one of the walls and leaned on it.

Hunter huffed and hoped his efforts to move on would be for the best. “We’ll meet a Republic captain there named Osi Sobeck and try to come to an agreement for a base on the planet.”

“Why us?” Crosshair slurred.

“Because Cody said so,” Hunter replied. “He thinks a mission like this will keep us off the radar for a while, and whatever happens with the spy will let us know if they’re onto us or they have other motives.”

“Um… Hunter?” Wrecker added. “We’re not exactly the best at negotiating. Unless we’re destroying something there, we won’t be of much use.”

“I beg to differ,” Tech spoke up. “I’ll gladly take over the negotiation, and besides, we have charisma on our side.”

“I am loveable,” Wrecker chuckled.

“Not you, di’kut,” Tech replied as he turned to Aurora, inevitably bringing Hunter and Wrecker to look at her as well.

And she also noticed Crosshair avoiding looking at her on purpose.

“She is the nicest of us, I’m sure she can appeal to this Sobeck’s better nature while I provide the technicalities,” Tech continued. “You three need only keep yourselves from screwing anything up.”

“Gee, thanks,” Hunter chuckled. “Would you prefer if we stayed on the ship and didn’t interfere?”

“I actually would,” Tech replied.

Tech and Wrecker would bicker for a long portion of the ride ahead, thankfully pulling the weight for conversational need from the shoulders of the others. Aurora’s heart would continue to sink, however, as Crosshair evidently knew of every glance she gave him, and would proceed to ignore it.

It would soon be more than she could bear. Not having him look at her, not hearing his voice address her, to not speak of his hands on her body, his arms holding her close to him…

Aurora still tried to convince herself that the way he kissed, held and looked at her held feelings at the very back, though that notion was beginning to seem like a distant dream.

Christophsis greeted them with its distinctive aesthetic; cool hues of green and blue on the ground level and the purple haze of the sky mixed together to build an ambience unlike many that squad 99 had ever come across

Cody’s coordinates had been precise, and Tech held the proposed terms of the negotiation safely in the data pad in his hands. He’d performed whatever investigations he could on captain Osi Sobeck, but he hadn’t been able to find much other than a brief time serving the GAR and a preference to remain on Christophsis whatever the cost, or so it seemed.

There didn’t appear to be any reasons to be wary.

“Let me take the lead for this,” Tech commented as he pushed up the visor of his unique helmet. “Aurora, just follow along.”

“Sure thing,” she said.

As the five of them lined up at the facility’s entrance, Tech pushed a button to notify those inside that they were out there waiting, and a camera lense seemed to power up with a distorted mechanical voice behind it.

“Identification?” It asked.

“We are Clone Force 99, sent by Marshal Commander CC-2224 of the 212th division,” Tech answered. “We are here to establish a negotiation with Captain Osi Sobeck.”

“One moment.”

They all knew it was normal to be kept waiting a little bit while waiting for clearance into a building, particularly a military base, but to all of them it seemed like perhaps it was taking too long for their request to be answered. While most of them didn’t make much of it, Hunter decided to cling to that detail, in case anything went wrong, though he still wasn’t sure of what could go astray.

The lens then powered up again. “Authorized.”

The heavy metal doors opened and granted them access, and behind the doors, two large, ominous special unit droids appeared as escorts. Though at first the sight of them made the troopers and medic wary, the droids clearly had the Republic’s crest painted on their shoulder, marking them as allies.

But why they would be there instead of clone troopers or Republic sentient fighters eluded the squadron, and it only made Hunter more aware of the surroundings than it already was. Silently, the droids led the squadron into the dimly lit base, with the heavy doors closing behind them.

Tension lingered in the air like a thick fog. Escorted into the elevator, the squad remained in silence with only the electronic whirring of the droids and the elevator in the background. Even more set aside was Aurora, who was the only one whose face was exposed in the middle of her helmeted teammates.

The ride in the elevator felt eternal, but Aurora would try to seize the opportunity. On her left stood Crosshair, tall and dark and silent, not looking anywhere except directly in front. He felt Aurora’s gaze on him, and though she expected him to ignore her again, Crosshair looked down at her.

But for all she knew, anger would still be ablaze in his eyes, and before she had any more time to wonder, Crosshair looked away from her again.

And that was it.

Soon, they arrived at the central command center high up in the facility, a large room fully lit because of its big windows, surrounded with holo screens and computers displaying several charts and reports. It was occupied almost exclusively by droids, all of them focused on their tasks, and at the very center was a holo projector over which towered the figure of a tall Phindian male, about Wrecker’s height, who had his back turned on the squad.

When he turned around, Aurora felt a chill, for this was one of the unfriendliest faces she’d ever encountered. His round eyes held a sharp, icy gaze that seemed as if it was hunting to kill; his features were already very bold, an impression enhanced by the authority he carried himself with, undoubtedly a strict leader. His clothes seemed almost too dark for a Republic officer, and on his hip rested a holster with a hand blaster in it, one that didn’t seem to have been used or worn out and was most likely meant for intimidation.

“The clones you requested, captain,” spoke one of the droids.

Hunter and Aurora exchanged a look at the peculiar remark.

“Ah, yes,” he spoke with a gruff snarl for a voice. “The infamous Clone Force 99.”

“We were sent by commander Cody,” Tech replied. “We bring numerous propositions for a Republic Base stationed here on Christophsis, and while we would like to discuss them all with you, we would also be eager to hear what you have in mind.”

Sobeck chortled deep in his chest. “You see, I reached out to the commander hoping he would send you. You all look as capable as you have been made out to be.”

“Tech…” Hunter muttered.

“Your intelligence, however, can be further worked on in a lab,” Sobeck concluded.

Those were the words that finally sent the other three troopers into reasoning, but it was too late by that time, as the droids around them had already drawn their blasters and pointed them at the squad, cornering them before they even had a chance of anything.

“How disappointing that it was so easy to get you in our grasp,” Sobeck laughed. “I’m surprised not even my droids set you off.”

“Of course not,” Tech’s voice hardened as he discreetly began recording through his visor. “You’re supposed to be part of the Republic. You had our loyalty by default.”

“Better for me,” Sobeck laughed once more.

Behind them, the door hissed open revealing a single figure wearing shiny clone trooper armor. He walked silently into the room, making his way towards Sobeck without acknowledging the troopers even once, and by the time it reached the captain, finally took off his helmet.

He was no clone, but a Rhodian merely disguised as one.

“Too easy, indeed, too easy,” Sobeck mocked. “And once you took the fall for me and everyone suspected you were the ones feeding intel to the Separatists, you did most of the work for me.”

“What are you talking about?!” Hunter threatened.

“CT-99s are supposed to be the Kaminoans’ finest creations, and yet, your own army doesn’t respect you, your own comrades think you’re fools, they’ll all be ready to sell you out, not surprised if you were indeed spies,” Sobeck snarled.

Silence fell among the troopers as they huddled defensively.

“Here’s hoping your secrets will be better used by the Separatists,” Sobeck threatened.

“Spies…” Aurora muttered. “Hunter—”

“Bring me their leader!” Sobeck’s voice bellowed above hers. “He will be the first one to undergo,” he glared over at the squad, his eyes all but preaching doom, “extraction.”

Hunter acted quickly and without thinking, though that was neither new nor bad for him, and he unsheathed his vibroblade from its spot in his forearm, launching it at the disguised spy’s chest. The spy choked and collapsed onto the ground, perishing in no time, and just when it seemed their fate would be sealed as well, Aurora took one of the smoke bombs from Wrecker’s utility belt and detonated it, forcing the droids to hold their fire whilst giving her and her boys a chance to escape.

Hunter went to retrieve his blade from the Rhodian and was the last one out, leaving Tech to work on keeping the door sealed for as long as he could manage, ultimately blasting the controls to keep it from opening again.

“That should buy us some time,” Tech said.

“He seemed friendly, eh?” Wrecker said with sarcasm. “Think if he offer him our blood samples, he’ll go easier on us?”

“Guys, we have to get out of here now,” Aurora said.

“For once, I think we’ll all agree on something,” Hunter said. “Follow me and don’t stop running.”

Hunter led them down a series of corridors before reaching the elevator, which had unsurprisingly been remotely disabled, after which he led his squad down several flights of stairs before reaching the lower level cluttered with an equally complex system of halls and corridors they’d have to survive if they wanted to leave in one piece.

But down at the first level, trouble had already beat them. In full Separatist fashion, the place had already been riddled with battle droids and more special units, all of them programmed to stop them from leaving. Aurora watched as the droids seemed to multiply before her eyes, frozen in horror and in dismay as it felt like they wouldn’t be escaping.

Then, long, slender fingers wrapped around her wrist. Crosshair tugged her in his direction, wordless, running faster than she ever could on her own. Aurora took out her hand blaster as he ran with her, shooting whatever droids she could that were chasing them. Crosshair let go of her to assemble his rifle, hopefully granting them an advantage, but it wasn’t long before Aurora began to fall behind merely meters before the final corridor that would lead them to the exit.

They were vulnerable, only one mistake away from being cornered, wide open and with no cover to protect them from the blasts of the droids that didn’t mind killing them. Despite all this, they kept running, and though Aurora hoped with all her might that they would all be okay, her own fears materialized when a blast incoming from behind found her leg.

The little grunt she made considerably downsized the pain she felt from the blast wound, burning despite it having only grazed the back of her thigh, already slowing her down in her efforts to escape. She watched as the others ran in front of her, all of them approaching safety; it was the only thing that mattered. Aurora wasn’t so far herself, but her wound put her at a dangerous disadvantage that she hoped wouldn’t catch up to her.

But it did.

Aurora yelped when a large metallic hand tugged on the back of her gray jumper, pulling some of her hair along with it, and the force with which the special unit pulled her easily overpowered her. She was swept off the ground and dragged back in the direction they’d been running from in the first place, crying out in pain and in alarm as she saw her squadmates getting farther away from her.

That was when Crosshair turned around.

His expression was concealed by his helmet, but the hurry with which he ran back was evident. Crosshair had just pulled his rifle out when the special unit shot it out of his hand, but he wouldn’t be defenseless after that. He pulled out the hand blaster from his holster and aimed at the droid’s head, but its programming proved to be smarter. It lifted Aurora from off the ground to shield itself from Crosshair’s blast, and though the marksman tried to shoot at its legs, it proved futile against the special unit.

Soon, Aurora heard clanking from behind her. A group of at least ten other battle droids, alongside three more special unit droid commandos appeared from the adjacent hallway, all of them taking aim against a wide-open Crosshair. But he didn’t seem to relent, and Aurora saw it ending only one way.

She noticed Crosshair was just behind one of the door frames that would divide the hall if it were closed, and though her heart would break more, she knew the door would be strong enough to shield him from any blasts.

It would also give him a chance to escape, to save himself.

“Let her go!” Crosshair yelled, his voice a violent thunder raging in the hall, echoing alongside the blasts.

“Crosshair, leave!” Aurora cried out, yelping in pain as the droid securing her pulled on her with more strength. “Please, leave, or they’ll shoot you!”

But he didn’t stop, and Aurora knew that it wouldn’t belong before he’d be badly hurt. No matter what had happened, or how awful he’d made her feel, the thought of him being hurt was more than her heart could bear, and she wouldn’t allow it.

And when the droid that was holding her raised its arm and exposed the built-in blaster, aiming it at Crosshair, Aurora mustered all of her strength and pushed against the arm, deviating it and altering the blast’s course just enough for it to hit beside the door’s controls. The blast was powerful enough to fry the entire panel, causing the door to close in front of Crosshair.

“No!” He yelled out just as the doors sealed, separating him from Aurora and the droids for good.

With all his strength, he slammed his fists repeatedly against the door, relenting only to throw aside his helmet and gaze at the sight in front of him through the small glass window. Eyes wide with alarm, he saw as the droid dropped her without care, and she fell on the ground grunting out in pain and clutching her bleeding hamstring.

He slammed the door again when more battle droids surrounded her, all of them taking aim, and he yelled curses at Sobeck when he appeared from behind them, grinning evilly at the defenseless Aurora.

Crosshair felt a pair of hands tugging at his armor from behind him, threatening to pull him away from the door, away from Aurora. He struggled, if only to keep watch over her, and observed as Sobeck ordered his droids to stand down only to have them drag her away while his older brothers did the same to him.

“I’m not leaving her!” Crosshair cried out and slipped himself from their grip, heading back to the door and slamming it with more strength than ever, more strength than anyone could ever predict he had. “AURORA!”

“Crosshair!” Hunter secured his shoulders and shook him. “Crosshair, listen to me! You’re not going to help her like this and you’re not going to help her if you get yourself captured.”

“She’s wounded, dammit!” Crosshair yelled. “She needs me, I’m not leaving her!”

“Crosshair—”

“I need her, goddammit—”

“Then you should have told her that before!” Hunter raised his voice, finally making Crosshair quiet down, as his youngest brother looked up at him with a pained expression.

They both knew Hunter was right. The hall fell into an eerie silence, and on the other side of the door, neither Aurora, nor the droids, nor Sobeck were still there.

“Crosshair,” Tech spoke as calmly as he could. “Sobeck won’t hurt her. He wants us, and I’m sure he’s going to use Aurora to get to us.”

“And even if he weren’t, we’d still go back for her,” Wrecker added.

“But we need you to be focused,” Hunter finished.

Crosshair felt himself shaking as he exhaled; no matter what they could say, he wouldn’t stop fearing what that maniac could do to her, but it at least prompted Crosshair to pick his rifle up from the ground, loading it and not bothering to put it away.

“I won’t leave Sobeck alive,” he growled.

“Fine by us,” Hunter replied.

“I’ll report our findings to Cody before Sobeck has the chance to twist any of this,” Tech said. “We should head back to the ship in the meantime; if these halls are separated by doors, we risk being trapped.”

“Alright then, we move,” Hunter led and was the first one making his way down the halls.

Before Wrecker and Crosshair moved, Wrecker picked Crosshair’s helmet up from the ground and gave it to him. With a brief nod, Crosshair took it and placed it back over his head, and quickly, he ran behind his older brother, resolved to free Aurora from the clutches of the traitor.

Being dragged from the hallways and barely able to stand on her own feet, it was a blur for Aurora by the time she was back at the command center, her weight secured by two droids at her sides while Sobeck had his back turned on her, setting up the holo projector.

But flashes from the hallway repeated themselves in Aurora’s mind, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t erase the image of Crosshair crying out through the sealed door, trying and failing to get to her.

At least he and the others were safe; the fear of seeing him get hurt was far stronger than the fear of losing him.

“Your clone friends are terrible at picking up comms,” Sobeck spoke, his gruff voice both chilling and disgusting Aurora to the core. She glared up at him and fear and in spite, a part of her hoping they wouldn’t answer, that they’d returned to safety.

But just then, the holoprojector powered up and displayed the silhouettes of her four squad mates, with Crosshair at the front looking angrier than she’d ever seen him. Sobeck signaled the droids behind him to bring Aurora into view; she grunted in pain as she moved, and feeling helpless, tried not to look at the pain and worry in the eyes of her boys.

“I believe we can skip the formalities,” Sobeck began. “You want your medic back, or so I assume, and I’ll happily return her to you.”

“Guys, it’s a trap!” Aurora yelled out, but one of her droids hit her right on her blast wound on her thigh, making her crumble to the ground in pain.

“Don’t you fucking touch her!” Crosshair yelled through the holocomm.

“You have escaped me for the last time, clone!” Sobeck called back. “You know what I want, and unless you’re willing to come back here and give it to me, this pathetic little rat dies.”

Crosshair’s struggle was visible even through the hologram, and shaken as he was by anger and his desire for revenge, his gaze floated over to Aurora, kneeling on the ground, her gray uniform stained by her own blood.

“Look at her,” Sobeck said. “Poor little girl, so afraid, so in pain, so abandoned by you.” Sobeck reached down and held her chin and cheeks, forcing her to look up at the projection as tears streamed down her cheeks. “Don’t tell her you’re going to leave her here all alone.”

“Get your filthy hands off her!” Crosshair yelled.

“Give me what I want!” Sobeck let her go and pointed at him. “I want to see you steering your ship towards me now, or your little pet is in for a world of pain!”

“You want our DNA,” Crosshair’s voice gave a hint of a tremble, though it remained menacing. “You can take it from me if you can guarantee her safety.”

Sobeck cackled. “This is almost far too easy, but it isn’t unwelcome. I’ll be expecting your company again.”

“One more thing,” Crosshair said, his voice cold and unfeeling while his harsh gaze found Sobeck’s. “If I find out you’ve laid another finger on her, I’m going to murder you.”

“And I’m sure you’d love to,” Sobeck snarled.

“Crosshair!” Aurora called out, though she didn’t know what she’d say. Would she beg him to forget about her, to forget about Sobeck, to save himself? Would she implore him not to go down the path of revenge, or would she ask them to get there as fast as he could?

Or would she cry out her love for him if it was the last chance she ever got?

Before anything could be said, Sobeck turned off the holo projector and left the room in a ghastly, thick silence. The grim captain turned around and his cold, fearsome eyes landed on Aurora, hurt and vulnerable on the ground, as she tried desperately to escape his icy gaze.

Sobeck turned to one of his special unit droids. “Take her to a detention cell, and stop the bleeding. She won’t be of any use to us if she’s dead, these clones are not as naive.”

He looked at Aurora again, grinning evilly at her. “You’d better be excited, we’re about to have company.”

She glared at him. “And they’re gonna kick your ass.”

“Alas, you are their weakness,” Sobeck replied. “If you’re here, I’ll get everything I want from them in the palm of my hand. Take her away.”

Aurora groaned in pain as she was lifted by the droids and taken out of the command center, on her way to be thrown into a small, confined cell where she’d be all alone, with no hope until they arrived.

She prayed to the heavens they wouldn’t take long.

Taglist: @zoeykallus @sageislostinspring @simpforcross @ceapa-mica @misogirl828 @dangerousstrawberrypie @salaminus @ladykatakuri @whore4rex @morganlefaye13 @seriowan @kimageddon @rain-on-kamino @prozacspice

#hmg series #moonstrider writes #tbb crosshair fanfic #the bad batch fanfic #crosshair fanfic #clone force 99 #star wars tbb #tbb crosshair #crosshair #tbb crosshair x oc

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