#cause of death: kaboomy :

[mister-heart]

Owiiiie

[marierg]

Of Light and Darkness: Ch. 28

Pairing: Obi Wan Kenobi X Reader

WARNINGS!: +18 and DO NOT ENGAGE IF THE FOLLOWING WILL CAUSE YOU PAIN OR TRIGGERING! Violence, Anxiety, Language, Angst, death/ near death, anger, delayed stress responses.

A/N: This has been an absolute whirlwind and I'd just like to thanks everyone for sticking with me. As with anything I work on I sincerely hope that these chapters did not cause anyone distress. This should be the last of the angst for a bit and I promise that the chapter after this will be a good fun one to make up.

Song Credit: The Foggy Dew by the Chieftains- Yes I tweaked the lyrics, but this was the song I listened to while writing this chapter.

Picture Credit: Pinterest and Lucas Film

If in Italic communication is mental not verbal

Words: 3600

Masterlist Next

It was hours after daybreak, two hours since the last ship had taken all but eight of you to the awaiting cruisers. Comms were intermittent, but last transmission was that there would be a ship to come get you all, it was just going to take a bit to patch her back together. You looked at the others and shook your head, “I'm sorry for all of this.”

Obi Wan could feel the dread mounting within you, “Y/n you have nothing to be sorry for. The ship will come.”

“Yeah! What Kaboomie said.” Glitch called out while soothing a hand on the babe clutched to Anakin's chest. The Droid who had carried the small one hadn't fared as well, batteries only lasting long enough to relay the child's name and where family could be reached. Somehow in the shuffle this baby had been left at the check point.

“I suppose that I'm stuck with that name now.” Obi Wan and Glitch had since made up, the victory of blowing up a few attacking speeders providing a bonding experience.

“And thou shall be known as Kaboomie, great Jedi and RIC worthy!” Glitch snickered.

The baby was still fussing softly. Anakin wasn't really much for younglings but for some reason this one liked him, screaming at anyone else who tried to take it. “Hey Glitch can you sing something, maybe it'll help.”

“Don't know many songs for babies Speedster... Don't have much heart for singing right now anyway.”

“As I recall your people are known for their voices,” Master Windu glanced over from where he kept watch by the door. “What about the foggy dew?”

“I don't believe I've heard that one.” Obi Wan quirked a brow at the older Jedi.

“Most wouldn't...” Glitch replied flatly, “It's a memorial song.”

“We stand outnumbered yet strong.” Mace looked out sadly from his position. “it can be quite inspiring in dark times.”

The young woman took a deep breath, still keeping a keen eye on her field of fire. Softly the words began to float on the air.

“As down the glen one early morn, to a city fair rode I

There armed lines of marching men, in squadrons passed me by.

No pipe did hum, no battle drum did sound it's loud tattoo

but the temple bell o're the valley's swell rang out through the foggy dew.”

You turned to watch the girl, singing from her very soul it seemed. Eyes traveled across the shot pocked building. Vessia, the Senator's daughter, had indeed come to respect the law of the blaster. Her once beautiful and intricate hair now hung in a short pony tail after she cut it down, her eyes no longer naïve. Anakin was holding the small child a little tighter, murmuring that all would be well. Master Windu, while still observing his sector, had turned ever so slightly to better hear, a set to his jaw that you could only guess at. It was as if his signature flickered in the Force, seeming older and more tired than the one you knew.

“Oh the bravest fell and the requiem bell rang mournfully and clear

For those who died in the early light, at the springing of the year.

While the stars did gaze in deep amaze, those fearless men but few

Who bore the fight that freedom's light might shine through the foggy dew.”

Marru was positioned next to Obi Wan, the Bothan had survived an overhead barrage the night before at the fence line. Dark mud still covered his fur, ears turned down. The poor kid hadn't stopped trembling since, jumping at any loud noise, but fought fiercely none the less. Obi Wan had wrapped his signature around your own like a blanket, even if you had to remain inconspicuous in front of the others. It was one of the only comforts you had as the dread coursed within you. You noticed Glitch pause a moment then continue to the end of the song.

“Back through the glen I rode again, my heart with grief was sore

for I parted with those valiant men, that I'll never see more.

But to and fro in my dreams I go, and I kneel and pray for you

for slavery fled, O' glorious dead, who fell in the foggy dew...”

Obi Wan had a tear in his eye, such a pure voice he thought. “That was beautiful young one.”

“Nice song Glitch.” Anakin had felt the infant's breathing even out halfway through, lulled by the sorrowful tune. “Baby thinks so too.”

You came to stand by Glitch. Both of you were realists, knowing your odds and the likelihood of your fate, but still trying to hold onto hope. Giving her a nudge you tried to keep an up beat, “You should have gone into show biz.”

Glitch shook her head, “The Gods chose my path long ago Boss. I'm right where I should be.”

The peace was disturbed by crackling on the comms. “Angel 12... Angel 12... this is Orion 4. Inbound your 20... prepare for dust off!”

“Copy Orion 4!” you practically shouted into the mic, “Good to hear you!”

“Copy that Angel 12, just be ready.” You could tell it was JC on the comm from the clear syllables.

“Alright you heard the man, grab your packs. Obi Boy and Anakin get the kids on board, Master Windu you take point.”

“You're just placing me there because I'm older.” Mace smirked at his own joke.

You smirked right back at him, “Yeah and harder to kill. Glitch and I will take rear guard.”

“Just be sure you get aboard too Wee One.”

“Always Obi.”

You could hear the little bird approaching, the engines must have been shot to hell and back to be that loud. Anakin handed the baby to Vessia, drawing his lightsaber. As the craft peaked the ridge it did a sharp run along the deck, firing the cannons to clear the way down. The whole group started to run for the tarmac, legs desperately attempting to outrun the blaster bolts being rained down. JC was waiving at you from the cockpit window, “Y/n hurry!”

The Jedi formed an arc around the door while the others jumped on, you counted the heads. Vessia and the baby, Marru, Glitch who was firing from the door, then Anakin. The Hutt mercs started to fire more mortars then, rocking the very air around the craft.

You felt it.... that same eerie feeling from long ago.

Looking at the men you cared for most in this Galaxy your decision was made. With one great push of the Force you sent them into the bird screaming at JC. “TAKE OFF! TAKE OFF!!!!!”

“Y/N!!” Obi Wan looked out the departing craft horrified.

Master Windu was faster in response, getting on the comm. “Y/n get to the roof, we'll pick you up.”

“Read my mind.” Your legs moved on instinct, dodging and zig zagging across the tarmac to the control tower. Just as you dove through the door it came, searing horrible pain in your back and shoulders. You wanted to scream but there was no time. Getting up you forced your body to take the stairs to the roof, blood gushed with every few steps. Repeating the mantra Master Windu taught you over and over, “Not today, not today...”

Using the Force to relock the door you looked all around, where was the bird? Your vision was becoming bleary, limbs heavy. You tried to raise JC, “I'm here...I'm here.”

“Just hang in there a little longer Master, almost there.”

“ANAKIN?”

“Be ready for a cable lift 'kay!” Anakin was flying the wings off the craft with how fast it was going. He had to make it, Master Y/n was counting on him. “Glitch get it ready!”

“ROCK AND ROLL KID!!!” Glitch near had a panic attack when she saw the men flung into the craft and then heard you yelling. Gods help them all. “Kaboomie get ready to catch and patch. Hey Master Windy can ya help Speedster hold it steady?”

As they approached the tower Anakin could see you on the roof deflecting blaster shots that came your way. Master Windu had hopped into the co pilot seat, giving him a nod to keep going. Anakin knew that there would only be one shot at this, “DROP THE LINE!”

Watching as the bird approached you ran with whatever was left in you, jumping and clipping into the line just as the mercenaries breached the door to the roof. You were a sitting duck.

“Hold on sweetling, you're almost here. Just hold on!”

“Obi!” You tried to reach a hand up only to be hit by another blast. Maker it hurt so bad you screamed, only just holding onto the hoist cable.

Obi Wan was done waiting, turning to Glitch he yelled over the din, “Hold my belt!”

The young woman did so without hesitation. Obi Wan leaned out the craft door, focusing all of his will to raise you up into his arms. Your body fell heavily, blood all over your robes. Glitch was calling for them to get the hell outta there while stripping and bandaging. Obi Wan stroked your hair, not trusting himself to speak at that moment. “Please Wee One don't leave me too.”

“I could never leave you dear man.” As hurt as you were you still reached for him. His warmth radiated and comforted, dulling the pain if only a little.

Feeling your fingers intertwine fully with his own caused a weak grin, “There's the wee warrior I know.”

“Headcount?” Pain filled eyes gazed around as Obi Wans other hand continued smoothing your hair. “What's the count?”

Glitch paused her movements over your body as blue gray eyes gazed at yours. There were tears streaming down her cheeks, “Eight.”

“W-who?” you had no strength to look around, but felt with the Force. Your team was all present so then... “Where's JC?”

Glitch gritted her teeth, you forced yourself to follow her gaze as it fell to the small space between the cockpit and the hold. A pair of black flight boots peeked out from a wool blanket. Cold consumed you, as surely as being thrown into a frozen lake. No, not JC! Not your friend! You started to shake wanting to scream, to cry, to throw up. Your mouth fell open in quiet agony, as if all breath had suddenly left your body, but refused to sound your dispair.. Shivering from anger and probably shock you bit the question out. “How?”

“Sniper just as we reached the ridge.” Glitch sniffled. “Speedster saved us from crashing, got us outta the tail spin. Command kept telling us to leave, but he just circled right back... said we don't leave anyone behind.”

Obi Wan looked at the two forlorn women, what he wouldn't give to be able to take their sorrow away. He dug into his robe and offered a handkerchief to Glitch. It was old fashioned, something that you only lightheartedly teased him for. Today though as he took the small cloth back and used it to dry your eyes he was glad that Qui Gon had always insisted he carry one. Glitch finished the bandaging then backed off, giving you space. Obi Wan couldn't bear it any longer, pressing his forehead to yours and cradling you close.

“Don't ever do that to me again Sweetling. Where you go I go, we are sticking together.”

Whimpers escaped from you, worsening as he lovingly stroked your hair and face. “I'm sorry Obi... forgive me please? I won't do it again I promise.”

“I forgave you the minute it happened... I love you.” He could sense they were approaching the main transport ship. Glitch and Marru placed you on a stretcher to go to the med bay. Obi Wan returned to his exterior façade, “Y/n is there anything that needs to be done?”

“Have them call home, their families will be worried.” You were starting to dip in and out, but held on just a little longer, “JC and the others...don't leave them alone.”

Obi Wan nodded, “I promise they will be cared for, Y/n. Now rest.”

“I love you too Obi Boy.”

Anakin and Glitch had finally finished. They had washed, redressed and had laid JC in his casket. It was nothing fancy, none were, but with the Republic Flag laid on it the task was complete. The first of the honor watch came in, taking their positions, finally re leaving the two exhausted responders. Glitch nodded for Anakin to follow to the mess, handing him a Kaf and sandwich. They sat in silence finally allowing the day to catch them.

Anakin could feel the swirl of his emotions, trying to hold them in check as a Jedi should. “I miss them.”

“Me too,” Glitch kept her eyes down.

“Do you think your Gods would welcome JC too, Like Mik-lee and Tau?”

“Yes.” Glitch finally raised her face, heaving a great sigh. She reached into a pocket and produced a flask, raising it. “And so we shall celebrate their lives and brave deeds.”

Anakin watched as she took a deep drink, then offered it to him. After a bit of back and forth he finally took a sip, throat burning from the strong liquor. “What is that?”

“Whiskey.” She raised the flask again solemnly. “May the Gods and my kin guide your steps to the halls of victory. You were brave people, good and strong, fear not how your voice may sound when you sing your tale. For the All Father and Mother know your soul. I shall miss you my friends until my time comes to join you.”

Others came to join the table, cards dealt out and an impromptu debriefing session began among the group, everyone needing to let off steam. Master Windu had wandered down bringing news that you had made it out of surgery and were stable. Anakin felt a great sense of relief at the news. He had asked if Anakin wanted to go see you, but the young man had shaken his head stating that his place was to watch everyone since you couldn't.

Mace had nodded his approval, a rarity in the case of this Padawan. He thought better than to leave, sensing that the young people here could use a steady presence in your absence. It took a few hands of Sabac and a drink from a passed flask for the group to start to relax around him. They were used to your casual tone and manner, while he kept himself as he always did. Stories started to fly around the table, he shared a few from his early years as a knight.

Deek brought him another cup of Kaf. “First mission in a while I can recall having to build a crib outta storage crates. Jay always had a soft spot for kids.”

It occurred to him that if not for Anakin's stubbornness there may well have been a fourth casket setting in the hangar. The boy was headstrong, willful, spoke out of turn... and was most assuredly yours. Melri would have loved him. Mace saw the shadows pass in front of Deek's face. “I am sorry about JC, he was a good man.”

Sniffing then taking a sip of his own mug Deek nodded. “He was, gonna miss that Nerf Herder.”

“He has become one with the Force. In a way they never really leave us,” Mace took a deep drink of the bitter liquid.

Deek knew of course whom the other man referred too. “Yeah, still miss her too.”

You blinked your eyes awake, monitors and droids whirring about outside the door. Someone had managed to snag you a private room, you strongly suspected it was the being whose head lay on the cot next to you. Your dear man looked as though he had aged five years, creases etching the corners of his eyes. You briefly remembered your Master sitting with you earlier, they must have traded off. Raising your hand you threaded your fingers into his now clean hair, stoking gently. It was a peaceful moment after all the terror of the days prior, days that you weren't likely to ever forget. Softly you started to hum a soft tune.

Obi Wan started to sing the words, accompanying your acapella. With the slightest pull you persuaded him to lay with you. Both of you finally crashed down from the mission, holding onto the other and crying. Not great sobs just steady mournful streams. He placed soft kisses upon your head, stroking your hair. Looking up you returned those kisses with some of your own. You held him tighter, trying to reassure your Obi Boy that you would not let him go so easily. Neither of you spoke for a long time nor was there a need to. The two of you were just happy to be alive and in the others arms. For this fraction of time you were both together, alive and whole. It was enough.

There was a large delegation that came to welcome the RRC crew home. Beyond the families there were Brass and Political Delegates. It was a solemn procession off the ship, team mates and crew taking flanking positions on the caskets. Mik-Lee and Tau were escorted by their classmates, each having taken their graduation pin and pounded it onto the lid. Tradition and ceremony were ways to both grieve and honor. The Jedi and crew escorted JC and it was one of the hardest walks of your life.

The Brass approached you giving their customary platitudes. It felt hollow to you, cold and without meaning. JC had practically helped to raise you, a world without him in it was unimaginable. You were so lost it took a moment for you to realize that the Chancellor of all people had come over to offer his condolences. “I'm...I'm sorry sir, forgive me I didn't hear you.”

“No need to apologize Master L/n.” Palpatine stated softly as he studied your face, and more so the uncharacteristic emotions that crossed it. How very interesting, something to note for a later time. Exuding his usual charm he again began to speak. “I was merely saying how sorry I am for the loss of your people and that you should be proud of how your team handled themselves.”

“I am always proud of them sir. I do have a question though, if I may be so bold.” You saw the man nod, if not quirk his lips in amusement at your audacity. “Who was it that ordered the mission cut short?”

“Y/n this may not be the time.” Master Windu placed a hand on your shoulder.

“No, it's quite alright. If I were in your position I would want to know the same,” Palpatine did find this Jedi fascinating, if not somewhat disconcerting. “It was my decision. We received intelligence that reinforcements were being sent by the Hutts, large enough to possibly take out the fleet. As harsh a decision as it was, I could not in good conscience allow the operation to continue. As a Rescue Lieutenant I can only hope that you would understand my position.”

Keeping a steady gaze at the politician you studied his eyes. They didn't flinch, but were still offsetting. There had always been an uneasy acquaintance with this man. Anakin thought highly of and occasionally would visit with him. Outwardly there was nothing that appeared out of place, just a feeling. Sighing, and much too tired to push further, you extended a hand of peace. “I may not agree with the decision, but I do understand. I would like to file a request for Pilot JC Aldrich to be awarded the Nova medal. It's little consolation to his family....”

“It has already been approved.” Palpatine took your hand in both of his, attempting to be empathetic and comforting. “I have also taken the liberty of setting up Funds and scholarships for the families. I hope you do not mind?”

Slightly taken aback you unconsciously gave his hand a squeeze. You still had a feeling about the man, but he offered something no one before had, action. Maybe Anakin did know something you didn't. “Thank you Sir. I...Thank you.”

Palpatine watched as the Jedi departed for their glorious Temple. Initially when he had found out young Skywalker would have two knights training him, it had vexed Palpatine. Even with Kenobi and the Healers' interference the boy's pain lived deep within, just needing the right catalyst As with everything this border dispute had turned into an opportunity. Sending the Hutts to Norte had proved all too easy, but the ensuing pain and chaos that Skywalker encountered added fuel to the fire. His emotions were evident the minute the ship landed. Pain, anger, despair, all engulfing the boy and drawing him closer into the dark side. Oh Yes, this had gone better than even Palpatine could have predicted.

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[pointnumbersixteen]

Alternate Endings: a Second Short Interlude to My Character Analysis

We’ve reached the point where it’s time to consider how Cap died. 

I was originally going to write this as a post-script, but decided to write and post this first, just so that the people who aren’t comfortable reading the content of part 7 of my character analysis would have something else to refer to. So, if you’re not comfortable with the content warnings on part 7 (which I’ll probably post tomorrow, once it’s edited) or you’re not convinced of the arguments I make or if you just find it too depressing, here are some alternatives. I think the manner of death that I discuss in part 7 is correct, from the information we have, but I consider all of these viable options, save that in these options I don’t know how to make his ribbons being on upside-down/backwards fit.

Anyway, here they are. 

Option 1: heart attack. I’ve seen a lot of people proposing that he had a heart attack upon hearing of Havers’ death. That bit’s unlikely, as whilst I head cannon that Havers died, he was heading out for the North Africa campaign, and that ended in ‘43, and the Captain lived at least through August of ‘45. Could he have headed up through Italy into Austria afterwards? Possibly, but I’ve got nothing to point to saying he did and am therefore unwilling to commit to it. I personally reckon Havers’ dying in ‘42 or ‘43 and the Captain spending the last two years of the war being sad over it. But that doesn’t rule out a heart attack. The Captain is not the soundest physical specimen. He’s 46. He has bad knees. He mentions a hernia to Allison in s2e5. He runs every morning, but presuming he’s running a 500m loop (which is what I’d guess-timate) he’s not very fast. I wouldn’t rule out a faulty ticker. And from a narrative standpoint, whilst it isn’t the most satisfying, it works: just imagine his frustration at having lived through WWII, never saw any action, and then dying at the end of it the most mundane death imaginable. This would leave no marks, and thus be consistent with his ghost appearance.  

Option 2: a fall. I find this one lacking in narrative potential, and therefore don’t favor it, but it’s entirely possible that he tripped and fell down the stairs and broke his neck and died so suddenly that he didn’t realize it and thus it didn’t affect his ghost appearance. The only thing that makes this one enjoyable is that he’d probably find that even more frustrating than a heart attack.  

Option 3: one I enjoy because I appreciate it when irony is cruel. Just after the war ends, command finally, finally gets around to issuing him the pistol he’s been pining over the entire war. Just in time for him to have no one to use it on. But he’s never handled this model before, doesn’t know it’s ins and outs, and whilst lovingly inspecting it, he accidentally shoots himself somewhere instantly fatal, heart or head, your choice. Again, he’d be dead before he realized what happened, and thus it would not appear on his ghost. 

Option 4: shrapnel. It’s my favorite alternate option (well, besides maybe option 3, but option 3 depends on him being a bit more of a doofus than usual) because it comes in choose your own adventure format, in terms of where the shrapnel came from. 

          Sub-Option 1: pure accident. These things happen. Cap’s unit from what we can tell so far works on experimental explosives. Something could go wrong. He’s standing near whatever kaboomy-device they’re working on after the limpet mine, it goes off when it isn’t supposed to, he takes a load of shrapnel to the torso. 

          Sub-Option 2: mild incompetence. Assume Havers is the brains of there operation (well, he probably was, but to a greater degree than has previously been assumed). Operation William went well because Havers was around to deal with the more trying aspects of it. This time Havers is in North Africa, however, Cap mishandles the latest kaboomy-device and it goes off, and he takes a load of shrapnel to the torso. If you want to link his death to Havers leaving, this is the option to choose, just assume Havers was always the one to do safety checks. 

           Sub-Option 3: sabotage. He doesn’t appear to be well liked by the men under his command. I don’t know how big the concept of ‘fragging’ was in WWII, in the UK, or in the rear, but in the modern US army, it gets frequent discussion, if not necessarily implementation. ‘Fragging,’ for those who don’t know, is the idea of killing a person in your own unit, usually an NCO or officer, who is either incompetent or an asshole, for your own satisfaction and/or the good of your unit, by tossing a fragmentation grenade at them in battle and then blaming it on the enemy. Obviously, no one was going to get away with throwing a grenade at the Captain in Button House, but it’s not outside of the realm of possibility that someone would intentionally sabotage whatever they worked on after the limpet mine, so that it would go off ‘accidentally’ when the Captain was near in order to get rid of him. But they don’t get rid of him, he just takes a load of shrapnel to the torso. 

          Sub-Option 4: we could be kind to him and say he did get a moment of action when he was on his brief stint in France/Germany/Belgium/the Netherlands (wherever he picked up the France and Germany Campaign Star anyway). This could be in whatever way suits your imagination best: infantry attack with a tossed grenade, or a bomb dropped by a plane, or enemy artillery bombardment. Either way, he takes a load of shrapnel to the torso. I think if the Captain had to pick a death for himself out of all of these options, it would be this one. I also think, though, that if he died of an old war wound, he’d never shut up about it.

Whichever sub-option you choose, he would have survived the initial explosion, had the bulk of the shrapnel removed, and then recovered, before being returned to Button House. But of course, as frequently happened, not all of the shrapnel could be removed, some of it couldn’t be reached, and shortly after the war ended, some sharp bit shifted inside him to pierce his heart or a major artery or what have you, and he rapidly bled out internally. Assume all of the scarring from the initial blast is under his clothes and that also leaves him with a ghost with no obvious cause of death on his body. There’s absolutely nothing to say this happened, of course, but there’s absolutely nothing to say that it didn’t, either, except maybe the flipped ribbons, which I could only make fit into my actual choice of cause of death.

Stay tuned for that in part seven of my character analysis. Probably tomorrow.