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yourneighborhoodporg · 5 months

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The Guardian

Chapter 11: Alone (Part 2)

Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader

Warnings: ANGST (like, hella angst), non-canon character deaths, descriptions of violence, animal injury/death (I’M SORRY), Reader experiencing Trauma TM, Obi doing his best.

Summary: While leading a clone battalion through a routine supply delivery, you suffer a surprise ambush. However, with Obi-Wan away leading the rendezvous as he simultaneously investigates new elements surrounding your being, you are left alone to make the hard-hitting decisions expected of leaders during The Clone Wars. But when the present meshes with the past, how will you perform as deeply buried struggles are forced to the surface?

Song Inspo: Alone — Neil Finn

Words: 9.1K

A/n: Oh boy, this one is gonna be heavy y'all. And that's all I'll say. Enjoy 😈

Previous Chapter

Series Masterlist

You lose them a thousand times in a thousand ways. You say a thousand goodbyes. You hold a thousand funerals — Sara Seager

“80% of the containers have been secured in the port bay with the rest being carried in as we speak,” Boil relayed, pointed finger strictly scrolling through his datapad that hummed a striking cobalt glow amidst Lanos’s softer, earthy tones.

He stood at the ready to your left with his helm resting under an arm, taking in each and every two-to-three digit number emanating from the device while you surveyed the array of pale blue repulsersleds bustling atop the port’s grayed, metal landing platform. Ferrying tightly strapped cargo into the bay alongside their clone guardians like a flawless, tapered conveyor belt adhering to a strict timetable.

Most notable, however, was the way this living machine collectively dwarfed the sporadic bands of clone lieutenants who, toting their own Republic-issued datapads, coordinated delivery logistics with counterpart supply port stationaries. Though the brighter energies that rippled through the Force certainly haggled for a higher podium, as the latter of those two, similarity garbed groups seemed all the more enlivened by the marginal increase in activity on such an otherwise docile planet.

“The station Sergeant is currently off-base engaging another matter—,” Boil mentioned off-handedly. “—but sends his regards.”

“Thanks, Boil,” you hummed, silver orbs drifting beyond the organized fuss that circled like bees calculating predetermined patterns long ago inscribed in their very DNA.

Those same eyes flitted by the steel, square-cut terrace’s narrowed path which assumed the shape of a bottleneck in its stretch through the far, inner bay. Then, past the raised, blocky, metallic structure trading in checkered viewports for highly reinforced paneling. One that every day offered the station’s clones a welcome retreat from the planet’s emphatically beating, yellow sun. Just as it shielded them from any other element posing as a threat to the Republic’s mission.

To its perseverance through this war.

“I suppose the next step is to finish the delivery before regrouping to return to The Negotiator,” you evenly deduced. “Right?”

The sharp-eyed clone offered a slight nod. “Affirmative.”

But even foreign structures that cried Coruscanti architecture and hammered down brutalist design amidst Lanos’s creamy breezes and florid expanse did little to hold your attention. Those motionless, gray confines battling against any root or creeping vine that dared to snake under its foundation or slither across its walls failed to yank at your outer lip’s muscles.

At least, not with a vigor comparable to the involuntary jolt you felt strike those same nerves just from the swiping flash of a certain bunch of saffron fur scampering by the tree line.

Though, in spite of the curious, fox-like creature’s daring attempts to acquire the title ‘Honorary Republic Recruit’ from afar, the attentive animal still maintained a devoted caution as they steered a wide berth around the manmade metals which, like a disease, thinned the once lusciously stretching trees bordering its walls.

Instead, the well-groomed critter found temporary solace in nuzzling their tail with cheerfully squinted eyes amidst the deeper, healthier greens and sturdier trunks carrying thicker bark. A microcosm of the wider forest’s hilly character, which rolled around the entrenched, and fairly hidden, compound before flinging back out again for miles, like massive waves frozen in time millennia ago to house a countless abundance of life.

“If you’re worried about that animal interfering with platform operations, I can send a few boys to scare it off.”

“No, no,” you quickly assured with a flicking wave of your hand, dismissing the no-nonsense clone while silver eyes strung to distant, peering yellows.

“That’s alright. They aren’t hurting anyone. Just curious.”

“Understood,” he asserted quickly before stretching back into his planned briefing with a muscle memory akin to the dash of his head toward the glowing datapad.

“Because the storm has cleared it should be an easy takeoff. The shuttles will be able to meet us at port.”

“Sounds like our legs will finally get a break,” you teased lightly, sending the horseshoe-bearded man a knowing glance.

A deep, throaty chuckle fell from his lips as you lifted a few fingers to flit away another droplet of sweat rushing down your forehead from the increasingly belting heat and weakening gusts whose dying breaths failed to chill the air.

“I certainly hope—“

A sharp, singeing thread tugged at your prickling senses from within the Force, snapping your neck toward the source of the sensation before the flaring, scarlet bolt rapidly consuming your vision launched your nimble body, arms fanned out, to roughly shove Boil out of the way. Sending you both tumbling toward the unforgiving ground as the steaming blaze just barely hurled above each of your heads.

“Ambush!” You screamed after sorely rolling off the rather surprised clone and onto a less bruised back, primary hand clawing for your belt.

Your madly thrashing heart reigned into a steady chill with the initial pulse of adrenaline beginning to wean. And by pure chance alone, it was in that very brief second, as blood rushed past ear drums, that you began to feel an unexpectedly sudden heat center on your left wrist.

Thrusting that very arm up and into your vision, you spotted the sporadic, bubbling crackles and scarlet sparks of a damaged wrist comm whose drooping, dark metal structure threatened to melt into your already itching arm.

Quickly, you scrambled to your feet, right hand tightly wrapped around your unclasped saber as you levied it to thwack off the sizzling comm, permitting the decaying device to clatter across the dense platform as it sibilated into spare parts.

Having freed yourself of that discomfort, you swiftly ignited the saber’s buzzing, gray glow before angling toward the damage-inflicting direction. Yet even still amidst such a swift spin, you couldn’t help but absorb just how the landscape’s bright aura, which once overshadowed the rear port’s barren metallurgic twilight, now hung moodier as peaceful woods suddenly turned not so serene.

Emerging from the left side of a large hill positioned before the facility appeared an ever-growing array of creaking and whining metallic beasts.

With the prickling hairs atop the nape of your neck, you felt as the rear clones rushed to their assigned stations while a line of at least ten… twenty….. thirty and counting mustard yellow, beaked droids carrying stringy arms and legs jounced through the ground’s apex with grimy, heavy-duty blasters secured in hand.

Interspersed within their ranks and towering at least triple their size inched forward a darker, all-encompassing model whose pointed soles shredded verdant grass into marred, brittle soil. Colicoid-like droids that commanded three jointed legs, two weaponized arms, and a spine contorting into some sort of red-fanged face that curved inwards, all behind a spherical shield which quivered a transparent blue.

That’s what must’ve nearly hit Boil, you surmised, when another one of those cold, rigid arms blasted off a similarly behaved bolt toward a far cargo container. Shattering it into scattering, hot white-and-red shards, and sending a few nearby clones flying by some feet as a cacophony of shocked yells stalked their paths.

And, unfortunately, it appeared that second blast was enough to effectively signal the rest of the progressively expanding battalion to finally commence their full-fledged attack.

Streaks of thick, fiery crimson, slender orange, and harsh blue beams coated the sky like violent patchwork, darkening the planet’s once stilled and luscious atmosphere into one of rising, smoky death. Filling your nostrils with the noxious scent of burning plasma and battering your eardrums with strained voices that desperately shouted all around you.

“Men, with me!”

“I need help over here!”

“Medic!”

“Move back! Move back!”

“You two, blast ‘em Rollies!”

Their echoes careened over the sharp buzz of your saber as it swung through the air to collide with showering beams. And while, foregoing your long lost wrist comm, you remained relatively unscathed, you still struggled to afford the men fighting alongside you that same luxury.

Far to your left, a quintet of clones gradually retreated through a clean, V-formation as blue spires erupted from their phasers. Only for the incoming brigade’s ceaseless fire to clip the far right soldier’s arm, tearing at his upper plate which oozed a deep crimson athwart its snowy glaze.

Another profuse liberation of deadly rain, and an additional victim emerged as a flaming, hot bolt dug its way through the stepping foot of one of the middlemen, eliciting a pained groan while smoke sprang from the blackening wound.

You tried to help them. Mostly by tapping into their interlinkage with the all-encompassing Force as you’d discovered to do in recent weeks. Relying on this riddled tactic to empower your connection against insurmountable odds as you shoved pre-fired blaster heads into non-lethal directions and tugged out the legs from underneath yellowed battle droids while their brethren marched on unfazed and unfettered.

It wasn’t a chief, battle-altering tactic, but it was sure to meet at least one goal you had in mind: doing everything in your power to give the clones around you those precious, few extra seconds needed to seek cover from this overwhelmingly multiplying attack force.

But you only had so much to give.

No matter what, you couldn’t take your eyes off the eternal task of reflecting away each bolt that careened toward your person. And that was all while making every attempt to reduce the droid’s numbers with a deliberate swipe of your saber or a dexterous application of the Force. But it was when you considered the added responsibility of aiding any nearby clone struggling to defend against perpetually growing enemy numbers that the muddling task became quite daunting.

Suddenly, the corner of your vision caught a familiar, garish tone, drawing your gaze back behind the gradually receding quintet and toward a clone marked by an unavoidable, olive-green circle. A symbol that would’ve blended with the planet’s wider greenery had the billowing plasmic smoke been given enough time to clear.

However, unlike the rest of the platoon, this particular soldier chose instead to steadily march forward, soon passing the withdrawing V-formation like passing ships in the wildest of starless space sectors as he covered their retreat with an azure floodlight of bolts flying from his blaster.

“Get back, Getter!” You commanded, saber swinging elegantly in a controlled retreat as you sent an occasional hard glance toward the disobedient clone.

“I’m Forward Line!” He shouted through the muffled feedback of his sound-amplified helmet, failing to spare any glance away from the threat that marched head-on.

His feet crept forward, indefinite tone communicating his plans while the increasing barrage of bolts threatened your versatility.

“I’ll cove—“

A dense, blistering flare of plasma swiped straight through the eye of Getter’s helmet, leaving a charred, flaky perforation in its place that stifled his body like an off-switch.

He didn’t even tense.

Instead, the moment gravity recalled its birthright, he collapsed like a rag doll. Simply becoming a jumbled pile of arms and legs.

Your jaw slackened as a pinprick chill consumed your body.

“Silvey! Orders!?” Boil cried from close behind as his blaster ricocheted into the panoramic mob.

Row upon row unfurled across the hill’s peak, spilling into the valley’s depths like loose marbles from an endlessly deep bucket.

Though the frigidity that repeatedly ripped down your spine seemed to momentarily disconnect you from its horror as your mind focused on the present threat.

Those larger, curved ‘Rollies’ could transform into whirling spheres, empowering them to rocket down the hillside. Treating anything you were unable to Force shove away in time, be it scattered equipment or Front Line clones, like loose pins for the taking.

And it seemed, as your brain dizzied at the lives being ripped out of good men’s hands, that such a manipulation considered effortlessly simple by any Jedi was becoming too much of a task.

“Get a comm to Kenobi that we need reinforcements yesterday!—“ You yelled somewhat hazily as your mind desperately centered a connective blanket around one of the barreling Rollies so to redirect it into another speeding down beside it, coercing their shields to interact and combust into blue sparks and stinging flames.

You heaved in another gasp of chemically tinted, plasmic smoke.

“—And to bring any ideas on how to cut off this slope! Else we’re sitting ducks!”

“Copy!” He called before you sensed him spin on his heel toward the rear command center.

Until your next words stopped him in his tracks.

Because Getter’s sacrifice wouldn’t be in vain.

And you needed to do something.

“I’m getting in the trenches to try to cut these rolling things off!”

You creaked your neck sideways as another hot blast whizzed past your tingling ear.

“You’ll need support!” He advised with a hand cupping his mouth. “I’ll redirect a few boys your way!”

Another bolt diverted toward an unsuspecting set of droids smashed a few of the batch’s heads together.

“No!” You slammed, fending off another wall of vivid fire.

No more men die today.

They can’t.

Not during your first command.

Not ever.

Not after—

No.

“You focus on getting that message to the General,” you continued with gritted teeth, saber spinning into a swelling, pallid fireball. “If I need help, I’ll ask. Now go!”

His boots squeaked against the once sun-dried platform, now spattered with occasional streaks of thick, deep-crimsoned goop. Smattering the sound of his voice as the subtle scent of copper trailed in the air like itinerant pollen that clogged your sinuses and sullied your tastebuds.

“Comm to me in the bay!”

—

Oh, Anakin.

That was the repetitive acknowledgment encircling Obi-Wan’s thoughts as he silently observed Master Yoda, Master Windu, and Chancellor Palpatine’s shivering, blue holocomms occasionally snap out of shape, all while he stood casually in one of the ship’s empty, gray conference rooms to ensure a private meeting.

Calling from such distances was sure to elicit additional signal disturbances, and, sometimes, would even cause temporary blackouts. But fortunately, or unfortunately, for the General, none of those occurrences prevented Kenobi from discovering his former Padawan’s unsanctioned change of plans through a similar comm exchange a few hours ago.

Of course, it was his responsibility to ensure the arrival of the escort in Anakin’s charge. Maybe that’s because, whether tied to the mission or not, Obi-Wan always seemed to be the first to learn about Skywalker’s impulsive decisions. This time being his insubordinate choice to rope his own Padawan into a patched-together rescue mission following ambivalent reports regarding Master Plo Koon’s fleet.

He certainly always found a way, didn’t he?

Yes, technically, because it was just Anakin and Ahsoka redeploying, then the convoys would be unrestricted in meeting the arranged rendezvous with the rest of the fleet.

But still, Skywalker was a General now. Could that chestnut-haired man not go off on his own without at least informing another Jedi tasked with this mission first?

Anakin could have told him.

And, honestly, while Kenobi knew he would’ve put up a bit of a fight at the suggestion of such a change of plans, the Jedi Master still fully comprehended that, in the end, he had the trust to watch his former Padawan go.

Because, deep down, Obi-Wan knew that, despite the potential strategic sacrifice, it was the right thing to do.

Not that he had much choice to do anything else since Skywalker had already arrived at the attack site.

And now, consequentially, in his station as both military General and Jedi Council member, Kenobi was the one required to deliver this pesky news to the necessary officials in his place.

“Twice the trouble, they have become,” Master Yoda sighed, rounded eyes dribbling toward the ground in contemplation. “A reckless decision, Skywalker has made.”

The weary Chancellor’s snow-white furrow deepened. “Let us hope it is not a costly one.”

Palpatine exhaled gradually, dipping gaze giving room for the three Jedi hovering subserviently in his presence a moment to absorb the flickers of combat fatigue that affected the deciding politician. Though, despite the momentary pause, the Chancellor was quick to recover, flicking his far-out stare toward the trio with a manufactured smile that struggled to assure that he was, in fact, quite alright.

“I do apologize, gentleman, but I have another meeting with the Senator from Kestos Minor shortly, so I must leave you.”

“Of course, Chancellor,” Kenobi acknowledged for the Jedi in attendance.

And with that, the former Senator’s unstable image evaporated into azure sparks before fading into the room’s wider darkness.

“An eye on your former Padawan, you must keep,” Master Yoda noted, motioning a hand clasped around his irregularly curved gimer stick toward Kenobi. “An update, I request, next we meet.”

“Yes, Master Yoda,” Obi-Wan assured. “I will keep track of him.”

But not before addressing the puckering questions that prodded his brain tissue all afternoon.

At least, ever since speaking with you.

“Do you have a moment, Master Windu?” Kenobi questioned, just as the Grand Master’s digital picture similarly flickered into cerulean specks of nothingness.

The older Master glanced at Obi-Wan out of his peripheral, torso still respectively angled toward the empty cavity where Yoda’s silhouette once stood before smoothly pivoting with a subtly tilted neck toward the inquisitive Jedi.

“I do,” he punctuated with taught features. “And what is this regarding?”

“Silvey,” Obi-Wan plainly replied, allowing his voice alone to carry him through the next few seconds so to disallow himself from failing to speak of these matters at all.

“I was made aware earlier today that they were not fully informed of their condition following the incident. As their Master, and the one tasked with notifying them in place of the Healer, I was hoping to inquire as to why?”

A blank stare of unreadable stillness crossed the thousand light years in a fashion only Mace Windu, complexion of secrets and answers, could achieve.

“As their advisor, I provided only necessary information,” he clarified simply with the gesturing support of his hand. “It was unnecessary to subject Silvey to the past when they successfully recovered.”

Obi-Wan’s lips twitched into an imperceptibly partial frown.

Perhaps Master Windu… knew more than he was letting on?

He talked of deeming certain details imperative to share, which could suggest that there were facts being kept secret, even from you, for reasons beyond the bearded Jedi’s current knowledge.

At least, that’s what Obi-Wan convinced himself.

It would be the only explanation for such a decision, he thought. For seemingly sending you on a mission without any concern for the unknown factors at play, and for this indefinite justification of why.

That would be the only thing that made any lick of sense.

And that also could’ve meant, maybe, just maybe, Kenobi wasn’t the only one beginning to sense remnants of your mind within the Force.

Perhaps Mace Windu already discovered this development. Or perhaps, it was even possible the elder Master had something to do with it.

That, as your ‘advisor,’ he was already a few steps ahead. And that, in your meditation sessions, he found something. Triggered something.

Knew something.

Either way, the General desired to understand.

“And how are we to know that?” Kenobi tested carefully, eyeing the strict Jedi’s cheekbones for any small, reflexive hint. “You yourself admitted to an inability to perceive their mind, the cause of these headaches, or the incident’s nature. By those facts alone, how can it be possible to assume that this is truly in the past?”

Pressing his lips into a thin line with arms confidently folded into themselves, Master Windu intrepidly spoke as broadened shoulders secured his stance.

“The Republic is in need of more Jedi on the field. You of all people are aware of that fact, Master Kenobi,” he stated. “I made the most reasonable decision given our circumstances. Such details are not of our immediate concern. We cannot afford it.”

Obi-Wan couldn’t help the taught string of confusion and wiry cords of astonishment that knit across his forehead, muscling down the rest of his features like a sudden tug on the loose end of an interwoven thread.

Mace knew nothing.

And, with that in mind, Kenobi never expected such indifference to be applied to a situation deemed incomprehensible by even the Grand Master himself a few days earlier. Toward a state of affairs clouded by the ever-living Force in a plum of enigmatic readings, which, to the Council, was always a less than desirable sign.

There is no ignorance, there is knowledge.

Said the Code.

So then to brush this all off? And dismiss its repercussions to his own mentee, no less.

Obi-Wan raised a hand, curling a few knuckles to provide his chin a thoughtful rest. All in an attempt to imbue the Force with interim civility as his mind rapidly flipped through Mace’s words.

And it didn’t take long for him to realize that all this… Every decision made concerning you…

It was this war.

It was changing Windu like it was changing all of them. All the Jedi. Causing them to lose sight of what was once important in the days before the Battle of Geonosis.

But this wasn’t right.

Something was clearly influencing you. And, despite the Republic’s shifting priorities, Mace needed to be reminded that this situation, no matter how diverting, was just as important to the Council’s overarching mission as its efforts in this war.

To the Jedi’s purpose.

To peace.

These headaches and their culminated crisis may have evolved into a creature of the past. But it was their state of unpredictability, and the Galaxy-altering implications of a Guardian thrown from commission, which convinced Kenobi that the Council mustn’t lose sight of such solemnity. Especially not during a decade in which the Grand Master sensed the Force to have grown, in some pockets, indecipherable.

And no matter what, you deserved to know the full nature of these incidents.

Obi-Wan’s jaw released, poking away the useless support of bent fingers as his arm fell to the side at a rate equal to the blooming resolution which consumed the bearded man’s blue-eyed countenance. A visual marker, or signature stamp, of the Master Jedi’s acceptance that no war would stymie him from making these very thoughts known to the glitching holocomm across from him.

So much so, that he nearly missed the echoing chime of the conference room’s automatic door as its mechanics whirred open.

“General!”

Kenobi’s neck snapped toward the urgent inflection shimmering from Commander Cody’s tensed lips, just as brightly as the orange embellishments accenting his trooper armor reflected the white lights streaming overhead.

He was leaned into a forward stance, a puff of air proving him not a still-life statue as he caught his balance. All in an effort to suddenly halt a spirited sprint into the conference room that eventually, from the exertion alone, impelled him to expel the rest.

“There’s been a surprise attack on the supply port and the platoon left behind on Lanos.”

A dryness consumed Kenobi’s tongue as another simply armored clone dashed through the same whirring, mechanical door. Sprightly stepping up to whisper a few quick words to his Commander just before the aperture behind him buzzed shut once more.

“Reports of heavy casualties,” Cody parroted with an ear leaned toward the newly arrived lieutenant. “And they are requesting immediate reinforcements.”

“I will leave you to address this more immediate concern, Master Kenobi,” Windu relayed from the twitching holocomm image strikingly emanating from behind; his expression stilled except for the subtle twinge of disappointment drooping the outer corners of his eyes.

“Yes,” Obi-Wan affirmed, clearing his voice as moisture coated a tickling throat.

At least enough for him to sign off with one final message aimed toward his fellow Council member.

“I will see you at the rendezvous.”

—

A burning ache entangled each limb’s muscles like winding vines as you fended off the coming onslaught. Centering yourself in the lowest dip of the valley’s crease wasn’t necessarily the most strategic move given your current predicament. Especially considering it labeled your dodging figure as prime target practice for the ropes of Rollies that erratically spun down the hillside at spine-chilling speeds.

But you didn’t have any choice.

Not if you hoped to become an unbreakable barrier of pure might and agility, impeding a near three-hundred mix of droids threatening the platoon’s lives who hastily regrouped behind you.

Various squad formations would mark the best vantage points atop the port’s landing platform from which to lay fire upon the siege. Though that was the extent to which the battalion could effectively participate. Joining you in the, quite literal, trenches was a death sentence to any non-Force Sensitive individual hoping to take a stand against an attacking strength of this magnitude.

It was your ability, and your ability alone, to navigate the rapidly shifting elements of surrounding energies that empowered you to fight in their place while dodging and manipulating droids who shot walls of steady fire or suddenly sprung at you with their dense, steel bodies.

Yet, no matter your resilience, you still possessed the same weakness every other living being faced in adrenalizing circumstances.

You were growing quite exhausted.

“Reinforcements are almost here!” You heard Boil yell from far behind while he used a nearby repulsersled flipped into a makeshift shield to traverse the compound drowned in chemical fires and bloodied chaos. “You can’t stay there forever!”

You wrapped your fingers around the air as invisible claws shimmied their way around a Rollie barreling toward your figure before rapidly thrusting that same fist to the side, leading the machine’s suddenly bouncing trajectory to hurtle into a group of about eight battle droids.

One in particular sluggishly swiveled its head toward the oncoming sight with subtle reservation as it expelled creaky, undulating words.

“Oh no.”

Until they became another scattered pile of far-flung, broken parts, an explosion colored by blasting crimson and cobalt sparks.

“I’m gonna have to!” You called back, the swing of your saber nearly transforming into a cloudy blur of heat before your very, watering eyes as you deflected bolt after bolt while sidestepping through the uneven hollow. “We’ll lose our only advantage!”

“Excuse me for saying, Silvey, but I think that losing a Jedi will be cutting our advantage!”

You knew he was right.

But you were quickly learning that in war, there was no easy choice.

You weren’t going to lose anyone else.

Maker… you couldn’t.

You just… couldn’t.

A scorching, slash clawed into your left calf, electrifying all the way down to your ankle as a surprised yelp was drawn from your lips.

And it wasn’t long before that very foot and sorely exercised knee buckled under the shocking pressure, slamming both roughly into the dirt as you felt another breeze graze the touches of your back exposed by rips in the fabric. All from those quick tumbles against newly jagged ground with raised rock shards and disturbed mounds formed by the ongoing conflict.

You briefly glanced down to assess the damage, relying on your senses' contextual intertwinement and the dancing light of your gray saber to defend against the ongoing downpour of bolts. Showers that fell from the hilltop with such magnitude that you could’ve sworn the sky was crying smoky tears.

Speaking of bolts, it appeared one had cut you down pretty good as a severely bloodied laceration oozing black, bubbling soot stingingly throbbed the bottom half of your leg. Consuming your vision with its strongly contrasting, dark tinge even amidst your armor’s shadowy undertones.

So much for those Republic-tested shin guards, you internally grunted.

And, regrettably, with one leg out of commission, it didn’t take long for your wearied body and continuously fogging gaze to make another mistake.

Even if it was only for a split second.

While desperately side-crawling toward the landing pad, in an effort to impede an enemy group from its newly-angled, swift approach, you missed an arbitrary bolt that collided with the hilt of your saber. Snapping it out of your hand as its protective covering took the brunt of the blast, but still flung it a few meters out from your grip all the same.

Your head spun back toward the main invading Force, only to be met with an inky black blaster whose cold body was levied mere centimeters from your forehead.

Dark spots crept into your peripheral like a predator surveying its prey as your palms dug into the disturbed dirt below.

“Wow, look guys!” The titillated battle droid exclaimed. “I got a Jedi!”

Shades of flaming red exploded before your very eyes.

But not for the reason you thought.

No, whatever that was, it wasn’t blood.

It was much more…

Much too…

Fuzzy?

Scrapping at whatever strength you had left, you focused your shaky stare above. Only to be met with the strikingly pigmented fox of before, wrapped around the battle droid’s torso like a constricting tendril as it gnawed with growling rage at the mechanical thing’s armed skeletal limb.

“Ah! What is this?” The off-yellow machine bellowed. “Get it off me! Get it off me!”

He spun in unsteady circles, flinging his targeted arm as if fire consumed its nonexistent nerves, drilled feet stumbling over each other while the fox laid savagely into their assault.

Until the droid hoisted its other revolving hand, slamming it down once, and then twice, across the creature’s wet snout. A sickening crack, and its shiny, fur coat slung from the machine before landing as a mangled heap onto the ground.

You thrust a hand toward your saber, scratching at the Force to coax it to your fingers as it catapulted into your grasp.

A reflection of the blaster’s barrel stung your eye.

One squealing pop flung through the air.

And then another.

“Good riddance,” the droid mumbled while it drearily kicked the still warm, but entirely lifeless creature left at its feet.

You were too late.

You were always too late.

Qui-Gon’s paled skin. His glazed, breathless eyes.

And then you saw it.

You swore you saw it.

A flash of that horned, devil face harshly stomped across the fox’s barren throat.

And your blood ran cold.

So frigid, that an icy film must’ve shielded your eyes while they blurred in contest with an increasingly congested mind. The resonating cries of commanding clones, marching mechanical feet, and rushing metal clamoring against loose bolts all melded into a muddled echo of the past. Even Boil’s distended calls, which freely rang around inching droids as he laid down fire, melded into the rest of the world.

Instead, a high-pitched tone displaced their existence, slackening your jaw and dangerously slowing your breath while a weight unlike any other yanked down at your sternum.

And amidst all that drowning havoc, you barely noticed the large, gray shuttle with faint red accents descend before you.

Almost immediately, and with growing intensity, its engines were able to sweep away any nearby battle droids as they flung and tumbled across the grass like loose scraps. Even the Rollies found their maneuverability stifled as they transformed back into a legged form before being tossed away like loose credits via their curvature alone.

Yet, even though the vehicle landed between you and the incoming fire, its rear door descending as a fluttering ivory robe and flashes of white armor darted down its ramp, it was still not enough to rip you out from yourself.

It was only partially, that your awareness sparked, and for a moment oh so brief, as a flash of auburn tufts poked a hole in that stunned cataract.

“Silvey!”

A distant echo among muffled blaster fire, but the ringing tone did seem to partially subside.

“Silvey! Can you hear me?!”

You swallowed, vision clearing just enough to recognize a familiar pair of widened, bright blue eyes.

Though you had no idea how he got here.

“Obi-Wan?” You questioned hazily with scrunched brows.

“Let’s get you to the ship!” He declared firmly, eyes drifting toward your mangled leg as a hint of displeasure creased his eyes.

But he hesitated for only a second before quickly wrapping his fingers around your free arm to tug you that away.

And, truth be told, it was that moment, that single moment, the warm feeling of his grip as plasmic fumes assaulted your senses, that became the last instant of Lanos you truly remembered.

You recalled the gentle pressure of Kenobi’s fingers releasing your arm into the shuttle just before it lifted from the ground while he sprinted off, pearly armor catching the sun’s smoke-scattered glare as he joined the fight. And you could remember the stinging weight that dragged at your muscles as you stood for the first time after the hull abruptly docked at The Negotiator.

A feeling that haunted you with each step you traversed from the shuttle bay to your temporary quarters.

You could even recall the taste of the stale ship air that reigned menial against Lanos’s essence of fresh vegetation and untouched atmosphere. Though that particular memory was hard to forget, considering those same elements pervaded your quarters.

What you couldn’t remember, however, was what anyone had said to you. If anyone had said anything at all. You couldn’t remember when your injured leg was wrapped, or who did it. You couldn’t remember whether the battle was won. You couldn’t remember entering the lift to the residential section of the ship. And you couldn’t remember the familiar whooshing creak of your quarter’s automatic door.

Oh Maker, no.

You couldn’t recall whether that faulty sound tolled when the aperture opened.

You could only trust that the door had, in fact, shut behind you as you ambled into your quarters, deactivated lightsaber falling from your bruised fingers before rudely clacking across the carpeted floor. You could only hope that the walls, too, were thick enough to deafen the sound of your falling knees as they collided with the itchy carpet’s prickling texture.

And you could pray that the falling tears wetting your cheeks and soaking your tunic, and the hiccuping breaths stopping your heart, would somehow ease the agonizing burden that crushed your chest with the bodies of all you had lost.

—

“And the facility was secured?” Master Kenobi inquired once Commander Cody concluded his cursory report on the impromptu attack.

Both general and soldier ambled down the curved, tubular hallway of one of the ship’s upper decks, lined with identically placed doors and overhead lights that perfectly reflected the Republic’s preference for uniformed architecture. Still though, Obi-Wan’s wandering eyes would soak up their every detail, down to the personalized wear of certain entry panels or noticeable scuffs decorating the steel floor whenever he participated in such debriefs.

It allowed his mind to focus on the task at hand. No matter the aeonian tumult that bled into their essence or bordered his thoughts.

“Yes, General,” Cody assured evenly as his long-barreled, black phaser, still warm from battle, patiently hung from a confident grip; swaying with each step that fell in line with his superior’s steady stride.

“And we incurred far less casualties than anticipated,” he continued, with a hint of optimism so subtle that even Kenobi struggled to detect it. “My men report that the General is to thank for that.”

An unconscious hand hovered toward Obi-Wan’s chin, gently stroking his beard’s loose tufts while the Jedi Master continued to absorb his officer’s words like a Bluebell squish would sunlight.

Though his gaze still dallied across the ephemeral doors.

“Had they not stood their ground in the valley’s trench…” Cody liberated. “I doubt much of the platoon would be left standing.”

Kenobi’s chest rose and fell with a gradualness that seemed to suspend time itself. Still, his legs carried him onwards, as a shuttle set on autopilot would transport its passengers by endless star systems, and the beauties in between.

You certainly took a huge risk, he noted. Pushing yourself to the very brink to protect the lives of his own battalion.

But did you know just how close you came to the point of no return?

The Master Jedi considered that even Anakin would’ve deemed the act of entering and remaining in the trenches terribly reckless.

And that was saying something.

But you were Qui-Gon’s Padawan, after all. And Obi-Wan knew better than anyone that drilled into your being was the desire to avoid violence at all costs. To preserve the manifestations of the Force by protecting any and all beings who necessitated aid.

Though you were never prepared for a war that coerced Jedi to conform to a changed Galaxy.

And it coerced him to consider…

Should he say something?

“Sir.”

The General need not rely on Force-attuned senses to notice the Commander slowed his gate into a standstill from the corner of an observant eye. Leashing Kenobi to do the same as he angled to face the solider whose mollified shoulders stimulated satiny brown orbs to soften.

“Some of the boys and I would like to thank the General in person for what they did today,” he expressed somewhat awkwardly, hand jolting up to scratch the back of his head as his eyes dipped off to the side. “Any chance you could share a heads up when they may be up for it, Sir?”

An involuntary twitch tugged at the corner of the General’s tensed lips. Though his revelation after the fact choked the sensation before it had any chance of crawling up to ensnare his bright, cerulean orbs.

No. Not yet, the bearded man concluded.

He couldn’t share his worries.

Because Kenobi dreaded that doing so would risk metamorphosis.

It would be, conceivably, like asking you to transform into a different breed of Jedi. One who’d fail to touch the hearts of men with such infectious reverence and unity.

You were a being who would, no matter what, sacrifice each and every far-off particle of themselves if it meant preserving just one more life, or to cease the wands of conflict indefinitely.

The Way of Qui-Gon’s age, that felt so long ago.

Before its prime was sullied by war…

Suppressing his former Master’s Renaissance teachings in favor of this changed Galaxy, like so many Jedi of late, like Mace Windu, would fundamentally alter you.

And it was that very concept that sucked away the energy of his mind, like a siphon draining liquid gold down through his stiffened spine, and out through his toes.

“Of course, Commander,” Kenobi expelled fluidly. “I’m certain they would valu—“

A gust of pressurized mass flung by the duo with the brawn of a rushing wave, consuming Obi-Wan’s senses and depressing the hairs along his arms like a sudden shift in gravity as his once drained neck flicked toward the impression’s oozing source, located somewhere farther down the hallway.

But while the piqued Jedi Master’s piercing eyes initially saw nothing of concern, it was only a mere second later when the feeling quickly morphed into a troubling array as a pointed hole the size of a marble appeared to form in his ribcage, deliberately expanding into a bleak vacuum that nearly caught his breath.

Then came the pain.

An intense jab whose sharp instrument seemed to pierce the air with progressively afflicting shocks that were surely impossible for any Force-Sensative being to ignore.

At least, for him.

And while this sensation’s source appeared to stray from his inner being, Kenobi could still perceive its utter potency, shattering his thoughts with one, unavoidable clarity:

That, no matter the impenetrability of mental blocks or molecular hints of presence within the Force, the only other being in this sector at all capable of emitting this kind of energy, was you.

And that could only mean one thing.

Something was very very wrong.

Given that you’d nearly escaped with your life not even an hour prior, Kenobi could only fear the worst as he mentally recounted your previously noted injuries.

Unless…

That earlier hesitation…

“General!” Cody alertedly yet curiously called after his superior officer as the auburn-haired man’s once composed posture devolved into a notably rushed jog, his white shoulder and shin guards doing little in the ways of stifling the whipping surge of his ivory robe as it caught the ship’s manufactured atmosphere’s resistance. “Is everything alright?”

“I’m not certain,” he replied with a leveled tone, though never assuaging his gate or turning his chin away from the path ahead as he rushed by door upon equivalent door. “I will comm you if not.”

It was quite fortunate, Obi-Wan realized, that he’d already been returning to his own quarters when he sensed the shift in the Force as they were situated a mere few doors down from your own. Otherwise, given your mind’s weak presence in its endless flow, he may not have caught onto the displacement until long after the fact. Still, he couldn’t help but assign himself preliminary blame for whatever it was he began inwardly preparing to walk into.

He was too distracted to check in with you until now. Too preoccupied with leading reinforcements to turn the tide of that bloody sea of an ambush. And too absorbed in the logistics of determining just exactly how that Separatist attack force landed on Lanos without a lick of intelligence soaring his way. All while the General simultaneously ensured an on-track fleet rendezvous in the background.

But now, stood before your door amidst the heavy rise and fall of a stunted chest in which breath clutched its heels, the Jedi Master gravelly understood once again, fist hovering before its grayed coating in fleeting hesitation, that he had no choice but to rectify another mistake made in his task of certifying The Guardian’s safety.

His knuckles resonantly rapped the cold metal sheen separating you both.

“Silvey?”

But that empty, weighted crevice slithering within his deepest senses persisted, its stinging ambiance threatening to crack open his skin. Quite enough to convince the Jedi Master, as he reached a few fingers toward the door’s panel to levy a couple overriding taps, that your current well-being transcended any and all swirling discomforts rooted in invading your personal space.

Yet, even with such logic secured as firmly on his belt as his lightsaber, nothing could’ve truly prepared Obi-Wan Kenobi for the sight that patiently awaited the mechanical entryway’s opening swish, as his subsequent few steps into your thinly carpeted and modestly furnished quarters delivered an image not easily unseen.

Kneeled just a few meters before the stilled, auburn-haired man was your sternly bent-over figure, back hunched as strikingly as a shadow in a room simply lit by the vast array of stars that glimmered unbothered beyond the far wall’s viewport. Your wears were the same, with the various splotched, grimy stains and ripped, sagging ends of disturbed cloth still hugging your body like fearful younglings. Just as they had during the battle’s peak when Kenobi’s shuttle first landed.

Their drying crackles. Their stretching tears. They caught his gaze as fiercely as a spark of fire with each subtle quiver of your spine, an action which took his mind a moment to register as the trembling quake bedeviling enervated lungs.

From your blood-soiled calf bandage, ruggedly stuck, tussled hair, and sweat-adhered, dirt-crusted arms, Obi-Wan could only assume that you’d remained like this since your arrival. Submitting to your dark surroundings while lacking the inspiration to flip on a light.

And, most eerily, in a muteness that heightened the slightest creaks and far-off humming engines of a periodically groaning ship.

A recognition that deepened the already cavernous void threatening to swallow whole every vein branching from Kenobi’s chest into the muscle of each motionless shoulder.

This was nothing like the incident of days prior, which meant that the General was uncertain of what would help. How to fix this. Or even, what was wrong.

But he veritably knew that dropping a pin in the uncanny silence engulfing you both like a gaseous cloud would shatter his eardrums just as savagely as he assumed it would spiral whatever affliction you were enduring into a perilous state.

And that meant that, for the life of him. The Master Jedi had no idea how to proceed.

He could not breathe for apprehension that it would burst like a spark within an invisible hypermatter leak. Let alone speak a few words, nor your name, unless he knew that, without harm, he could.

So, Master Kenobi did the only thing he dreamed acceptable.

After idling by the entryway in perpetual uncertainty, the cautious Jedi adopted a lissome tread, leading his troubled brows and downturned cerulean eyes to finally seize a glimpse of your collapsed head as he rounded your form.

Your blotched countenance of stained tears and drained listlessness. Loose strands of hair soaked from sweat or anguish he did not know. Still, even your radiantly silver eyes seemed to gray in their moribund stare straight ahead, as if to watch a tiresome scene a thousand parsecs away run its course.

And it was that utter and complete stillness, a feeling invoking time to recede into long-forgotten history, that remained for a tense, immeasurable while.

Unsteady breaths continued to shudder your torso while eyes strung wide enough to perceive the whole Galaxy struggled to maintain their shape following the long sered, torrential flood. The cogs of overflowing thoughts crowding their rusting gears before the speechless man’s very eyes.

It felt near an eternity into the future or past had elapsed for Obi-Wan since he met your distant orbs. Yet their departed state, it seemed, never reflected your true awareness.

You were not trapped within your mind again.

“I spent my entire life on that barren planet,” you suddenly relayed hoarsely.

Or, maybe, in some ways, you were, Kenobi amended, as the sound of your strained voice heightened the General’s alertness all the way up to his hassled brows.

“And a decade of it in complete isolation.”

Laggardly, your jaded orbs lifted toward his own, neck barely shifting while you held his pursed lips and tensed jaw in a vice grip by the anticipation of your slowly spilling words alone.

“And yet—“

A single tear seeped through the dam, etching another stain into your storied cheeks as your chest quickened its heaves.

It was more than enough to have impelled Kenobi toward you. With a hand outstretched and a pulsing drive to somehow bring you any sliver of relief.

But Obi-Wan refrained from all that.

He knew he needed to listen. To understand first. So to learn how best to fix this.

He just wanted to fix this.

“—I’ve never felt… quite… so alone.”

But with those six words, the Master Jedi’s temperance seemed to wash away with the second droplet that traced a serene path down to your chin, proving another chink in the levee.

Promptly, but still with great care, Obi-Wan neared your body, both sets of eyes never severing while he lowered to his knees. Mirroring your form in complete and utter stillness as he encouraged you to continue with a reinforced, steadfast expression.

A tremulous exhale escaped your lungs, silver gaze breaking the connection before sinking to the wayside.

“Not as I do now,” you breathed. “Not when Qui-Gon is gone.”

Those two syllables, Kenobi registered. Two knocks that brought that dam to ruins.

“He’s gone!” You croakily sobbed, a glare that could only reflect betrayal by the Galaxy itself rushing to perceive Kenobi’s affected countenance with an intensity that matched the gushing rain.

You raised a fist, tightening it in the air through a paled potency so sheer that Obi-Wan worried with stitched brows about the sharp damage your fingertips could be afflicting upon the contorted palm. All while silver eyes squeezed shut as if disgusted by the waves of pure agony that surmounted your figure.

“He’s gone for good,” you gnawed breathily. “And nothing will ever bring him back.”

While heaving gasps brimmed the once noiseless, dulled gray walls, amplifying the hollowed suffering emanating through the Force, Kenobi felt his tensed spine and rigid limbs ease with the surge of conviction that steadily overcame him.

Doubtlessness that, like a good Jedi, he felt the need to ease your misery.

More than that. Your pain happened to affect him in such a way, that it felt distressing to do anything but lift his wrist to reach out a bracing palm.

For someone he appreciated as an admirable individual.

And for a being he was beginning to consider a good friend.

Gently, his palm graced the side of yours, signaling him to carefully wrap warm fingers around your strikingly frigid, raised fist. A gesture which relaxed open your tear-brimmed orbs while Obi-Wan cautiously lowered your languishingly trembling clutch. So gradually, that as both your and Obi-Wan’s arms reached each respective knee, the clasped hand was spurred to wholly unfurl, giving Kenobi room to relax his thumb against your flushed palm while he eyed you meaningfully.

“You are not alone,” Obi-Wan firmly assured, his own voice eliciting a momentary shock as he heard its baritone timbre crush the presence of such prolonged and confounding silence.

“He’s gone,” you repeated mindlessly with an empty gaze barely supporting your head.

Yet Obi-Wan’s persistence was as boundlessly unyielding as the grip he maintained on you.

“But, you’re not alone.”

“Obi-Wan,” you wept, nostrils flaring as you shook your head with thinned eyes; swallowing harshly. “Pleas—“

Rapidly, with any fret of heedfulness tossed out the airlock, the Master Jedi brought his unchained hand toward your tottering jaw. Resting a loose knuckle under your chin to lift your searching gaze toward his.

You needed this, he excused. You needed to hear this.

And as your damp, sparkling eyes absently met his, he knew:

Distance be damned.

“You are The Guardian. Anakin is forever tied to you. And you will always, always have the Order. Thousands of Jedi ready to stand by your side because of who you are,” he declared with unshakable conviction.

Until his orbs softened below shattered lips.

“Silvey,” he whispered pregnantly. “Drink in my words.” His fingers tightened around your own. “You are not alone.”

And for a moment, Kenobi could note a subtle lift in your features. A slight lightening of your irises that indicated at least some partial unshackling of an invisible burden. A development that began to stitch closed the gaping crevice nestled within his sternum as it was reflected through the Force, stabilizing against your releasing shoulders and loosening throat.

Though your mind appeared to travel elsewhere.

Still, they were all gradual indications of your calming thoughts. Hints that whatever he was doing was mending something. And signs that first appeared when he touched your hand.

Another theory that added substance to the sealing emptiness Kenobi first experienced through the hall in what felt like eons ago.

So, he leaned into it, gracing his once stilled thumb across your palm’s supple skin as he, bit by bit, traced a messy oval to soothe your thoughts.

And it didn’t take long for your continually calming presence to uncontrollably elicit the soft smile that gradually adorned his lips.

But, as soon as his gentle finger uncovered the aplomb to supply a deeper, more sustained motion of solidarity, it seemed, instantaneously, that this very transference snapped you out of whatever distance your mind had traveled with an unforeseen start.

Your suddenly surprised gape jumped out at Kenobi while a once relaxed hand instantly recoiled out of his own. Chiseling an equally confused expression across Obi-Wan’s face as his brows furrowed at you uneasily.

Still, that did little in forestalling your hurried launch to stand, all done in an effort to put a few strides between you and the bearded Jedi before crossing deeper into the dark shadows enveloping your quarters, a back of tattered robes separating you from Obi-Wan’s probing stare.

The older Jedi felt that hallowed void dilate within himself once more as he observed your sheltering arms fold into themselves, a familiar, throbbing pain emanating into the surrounding Force while he too promptly rose to his feet.

Especially as there was no denying that it was a feeling, Obi-Wan gathered, he’d somehow caused.

A myriad of thoughts swirled his mind as your quarters adopted that familiar aura of soundless reticence. One that rivaled the emptiness of its dimmed lightning that somehow felt far more barren with the presence of two beings blending into its grayed walls.

And the silence was deafening. Thunderous enough to fester a chest-displacing emotion Kenobi sometimes experienced, but knew no Jedi should long entertain.

Guilt.

“Silvey?” He questioned with indecisively parted lips, phonating barely above a whisper.

But you never spoke.

Instead, the Jedi Master received his answer from the tautening cross of your arms and intensifying dip of your head.

The clatter of heavy footsteps and low conversation echoed from the hall, cutting the still air like an endless barrage of saber swipes. Their passing din muffled by your quarter’s steel separation as Obi-Wan partially sensed the handful of clones retreat down the passageway’s other end until their overlapping noise whispered into a distant memory.

And it was following that minor rattle, the long, interspaced stretches of pure stillness, and a timeless affair of observing your statued figure for any hint of an imparting thought, that the General reluctantly accepted the inevitable as pivoted on his heel toward the long gone entourage.

Although he now ambled toward the metal door, he only moved with stalling muscles, still in anticipation that he’d sense some shift, some indication of lightening impressions through the Force. At least, any idea that maybe, maybe you’d say something to him.

But once Obi-Wan’s fingers reached for the green-rimmed panel, releasing open the aperture with a whoosh, he began to come to grips with the fact that his presence would facilitate no locution, and, instead, only make things worse.

Stepping beyond the threshold, Kenobi’s eyes drifted to the side, as if to glance at your enigmatic figure staring out the viewport from far behind.

Though, despite the effort, he never dared to fully turn. Instead, Obi-Wan simply allowed his reluctant features to subdue against the throbbing remorse that struck through his mind like an unruly blaster spear as he murmured through uncertain lips one last time.

“I’m… I’m sorry.”

A soft exhale, and the door hissed closed.

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thedreamworldlibrary · 5 months

Text

Dreamers of Myths & Legends Chap. 4-Cheer up, Sprigatito!

The next chapter is here and we’ll be getting into some minor angst territory. It’s small but still, angst is angst!

BIG thanks to @gigilefache for being my beta reader!

Also another BIG thanks to @summonfi for creating a WTDW fanfic server! You guys are welcome to join it! https://discord.gg/eCAD2h9x

Enjoy!!

It was a pleasant afternoon, the four researchers decided to go to Saffron City for lunch. Though Wiatt and Oddity were looking through notes that the young boy took about Mew.

“Wiatt, why did you bring your notes to lunch?” Sara asked.

“Figured we could spend some time going through to see how we’ll find Mew.” Wiatt replied, “so far there are a few places around Saffron City that Mew has been sighted in.”

Sara sighed, “Wiatt, Eric gave us the day off today from researching. Relax and enjoy this.”

Wiatt glared, but lifted his expression when Oliver and Lewis came by with food and drinks. “Sorry for the wait, darlings.” The two boys put the trays down before sitting down themselves.

“It’s alright.” Sara replied.

Wiatt put away his notes and was in awe with the delicious food before him. “Man this looks good.” He commented.

“Well, I read this is one of the best sandwich places in Saffron City.” Lewis explained.

Wiatt took a bite of a sandwich, his eyes widened. “You're right, this is pretty good!” He exclaimed. He broke a small piece off and held it in front of his Eevee. “Try it, Oddity.”

“Eevee,” Oddity replied. He ate the piece and smiled at how good it was. “Eevee!”

The group started to eat lunch together, not knowing Sprigatito was around the corner staring at them. The grass-type saw Lewis mewled in excitement. She got into the pouncing position, and waited for the right moment. Once she saw Lewis take a sandwich, that’s when she made her move. Sprigatito dashed and snatched the sandwich from Lewis before eating it in one gulp.

“H-Hey!” Lewis yelled.

Sprigatito flinched and turned, which shocked Lewis. “Meow!” Sprigatito exclaimed as she went over to the boy and started nuzzling his leg and purring.

“What’s that?” Oliver asked, never seeing that Pokémon before.

“I believe that’s a Sprigatito.” Wiatt answered.

“Sprigatito!” Sara and Oliver exclaimed.

“You mean the same Pokemon you said you saved not too long ago?” Oliver asked.

Lewis nodded, and looked down to see Sprigatito sitting and smiling at him. She tilted her head, confused why he was so shocked to see her.

“Darling, have you been following my friends and I all this time?” Lewis asked.

“Meow. Meow.” Sprigatito replied, saying that it was following the group.

Lewis chuckled, “guess you like being around me.” He said as he pet the grass cat Pokemon, causing her to purr.

Sprigatito started tapping her paws as she started to release a fragrant aroma. Sara smelt it and smiled, “hey that smells good.”

“What’s that?” Wiatt asked. He then grabbed his Rotom Phone and scanned Sprigatito.

When Sprigatito is exposed to sunlight, it uses its paws to release a sweet, therapeutic aroma.

“So that’s what you're doing now,” Lewis said.

“Meow,” Sprigatito replied.

Lewis chuckled and grabbed his Pokeball, “Well want to join my team, darling?” He asked.

Sprigatito’s eyes widened as she nodded. However, just before she could touch the Pokeball. A mysterious voice played in her head.

“Who would want a Sprigatito like you?”

Sprigatito’s eyes widened in fear, as that memory played in her head.

Flashback:

Sprigatito was in an alleyway as her trainer, a young girl looked down at her with anger. The grass-type Pokemon mewled as she begged her trainer not to leave her in the rain.

“You're such an embarrassment!” The girl shouted. “You ruined everything for me!” The girl then ran off, leaving Sprigatito heartbroken.

End of Flashback:

Sprigatito gasped as she stepped back from Lewis, scared. She was in fear of the same thing happening to her again. Disappointing her trainer and being released again.

Lewis saw how scared Sprigatito was, and reached his hand out to her. “Darling, are you ok?” He asked.

Sprigatito stepped back before running off crying, shocking everyone.

“W-Wait!” Lewis shouted. “Sprigatito!” The group went and chased after her, but soon they started to lose her as she started to pick up speed. She turned around the corner, and once the group arrived they lost the Grass Cat Pokemon.

“Where did she go?” Sara asked.

“Sprigatito! Where are you!?” Lewis yelled.

“Eevee! Eevee!” Oddity called out.

“Excuse me.”

The group looked up to see it was Nurse Joy, who looked concerned for the four.

“Did a Sprigatito pass by here?” She asked.

Lewis nodded, “Y-yeah. I was trying to catch her, but she just ran off.”

Nurse Joy sighed feeling bad.

Wiatt was then hit with a realization, “Nurse Joy do you know that Sprigatito?” He asked.

The nurse nodded, “if you would follow me to the Pokemon Center, I’ll tell you everything you need to know.”

The group nodded and followed Nurse Joy to the Pokemon Center.

Up on the rooftop, Team Rocket watched the entire scene from above and went from spying on Wiatt and his friends to spy on Sprigatito who was still running off.

“Say, that Sprigatito is really cute,” Jessie commented. “It’s fitting for someone like me.”

“It sure does.” Meowth agreed. “It sensed the twerp is a twerp, so it’s easy for us to grab and give it to the boss!”

James sighed, “It's been a while since you said that, but let’s hear it.”

“Picture the boss one day, in a bad mood…” Meowth started as one of his boss's fantasies started to play.

In Mewoth’s fantasy, it showed the boss chibi walking back and forth upset as his Persian looked at him back and forth.

“You mean like he is every day?” James asked.

“He then turns to his Persian, and yells…” Meowth cleared his voice to mimic Giovanni’s, “You are a useless Persian! You are boring to me!”

The fantasized Giovanni pointed a finger and yelled at his Persian before giving the Classy Cat Pokemon the blast-off. Fantasy Giovanni collapsed on his couch with a sigh.

“Man, I need a new companion,” Meowth said using his Giovanni's voice. Meowth then switched back to his regular voice, “That’s when Sprigatito comes in and starts nuzzling the boss. They will tap their little feet spreading that lovely aroma, which would make the boss relaxed.”

In the fantasy, Giovanni sees his door open and Sprigaitito appears before running over to him and going on his lap nuzzling him. The Grass Cat Pokemon starts rubbing her paws as the lovely aroma fills the air and Giovanni feels relaxed.

“Then the boss will say…” Meowth paused to switch back to his Giovanni impression, “This is a wonderful companion for me, and I should thank Meowth and his friends for giving me this lovely Pokemon, and in return I should give them a raise.”

Jessie and James got excited hearing about a big raise after giving Sprigatito to the boss. “We’ll finally get the respect we deserve! Because we gave the boss a Pokemon that brings him joy!” The two sang together.

“Wobbuffet!” Wobbuffet yelled.

“And to make sure the plan works I got ourselves something new that should help us capture the Sprigatito!” Meowth exclaimed. The Scratch Cat Pokémon revealed a box showing a Pokeball-shaped cage. “Meet the Poke Grabber 25!”

“Fancy!” James exclaimed.

“Good news we can capture as many Pokemon as we can with this!” Meowth explained.

“Ooooh!” Jessie and James exclaimed. However, James heard good news and had to ask the Normal-type Pokemon one thing.

“Wait, if you said good news then what’s the bad news?” James asked.

Meowth sighed as he dumped the contents of the box. “It’s from that company where we have to put it all together for it to work.” He explained.

“Great.” Jessie and James said at the same time.

“Wobbuffet!” Wobbuffet exclaimed.

At the Pokemon Center, Nurse Joy and the four researchers sat at a table. The nurse sighed before telling the four about Sprigatito.

“I guess you're all wondering why Sprigatito was so scared of you?” Nurse Joy started.

“She wasn’t scared of me before, just when I tried to capture her in a Pokeball,” Lewis explained.

Nurse Joy sighed, “I see.” She replied.

Wiatt thought for a bit and a theory came to mind. “Nurse Joy, did Sprigatito have a trainer?” He asked.

“They did, yes.” Nurse Joy answered. “It was a year ago, and I was running errands before heading back to the Pokemon Center, on my way back I saw a young girl running off, and I didn’t know why.” She explained remembering everything that happened, “Once I got closer that’s when I saw Sprigatito all alone. I connected the dots and realized that the trainer abandoned Sprigatito.”

The group looked horrified hearing what Sprigatito went through and it made sense why she went through and why she ran off when Lewis tried to catch her. Their horrified expressions turned to anger and sadness towards the grass-type Pokémon.

“No wonder why Sprigatito ran off like that,” Oliver said, feeling bad for the grass-type Pokemon. “She was scared you’d abandon her again.”

Lewis looked shocked. No way he’d do that to a Pokémon.

“How could someone do such a thing!” Sara growled. “I’d like to meet this trainer and give them a piece of my mind.”

Lewis let out a sigh, as anger wasn’t the answer. “I’m going to find her.” He said getting up from his seat.

“Huh?” The group questioned.

“Sprigatito is alone out there. She needs someone to care for her, to show her that she won’t be abandoned again.” Lewis explained.

Wiatt smiled, agreeing with his friend. “Lewis is right, we need to find her.”

Lewis smiled, seeing Wiatt agreeing with him. He then turned his gaze to his friend’s Eevee. “Oddity, think you’d be able to use your sense of smell to track her down?” He asked.

Oddity nodded and used his paws to look like he gave a salute, “Eevee Vee!” He replied. Oddity got off the table and sniffed Lewis hoping to catch Sprigatito’s scent. Oddity nodded, catching Sprigaito’s scent and running outside to find her.

“Let’s follow him!” Lewis exclaimed.

“Right!” The rest of the researchers agreed and followed their Eevee to look for Sprigatito.

The search took hours, as they went around the town and looked into alleyways that Sprigatito could be hiding in. During the search, the researchers asked people around Saffron City if they’d seen the Grass-type Pokemon, but none had seen Sprigatito pass by. Oddity kept following Sprigatito’s scent and saw it led to Route 6.

“Eevee.” Oddity said.

“You know where she is?” Lewis asked.

Oddity nodded, “Vee.”

“Then lead the way, darling!”

“Eevee!”

Lewis and Oddity ran leaving Saffron City and heading to Route 6 with Wiatt, Oliver, and Sara behind them.

Oddity sniffed the area and caught Sprigatito’s scent going past some bushes. Once going through them Oddity stopped and carefully walked, peeking through some of the trees.

Lewis came by and Oddity used his tail to tell the young boy to be quiet. The boy nodded as he and Oddity looked through the bushes, and their eyes widened at what they saw.

In the clearing, Sprigatito was dancing using a rock as her stage. She twirled, jumped, and did all sorts of cute dance moves. Soon, she used a move, Leafage, as she spun in the air before doing more dances.

“Amazing,” Lewis whispered. “S-She’s a performer.”

“Eevee,” Oddity replied.

Wiatt and the rest of the crew showed up but saw Sprigatito doing her performance. Sara was about to speak before being hushed by Lewis, who told the three to stay quiet and watch Sprigatito perform.

“Is she dancing?” Sara asked.

“She is darling. She is.” Lewis answered, smiling at the Grass Cat Pokemon.

Sprigaito continued to dance before finishing off with Leafage and landing on a pose. She tried catching her breath and smiled before bowing.

Oddity couldn’t hold his excitement any longer and soon started to cheer for the grass-type Pokemon.

Sprigatito’s eyes widened as she looked up to see Oddity jumping around for joy, as Wiatt and the others tried to quiet him down. Her body turned white as a ghost realizing someone was watching her perform. She shivered and was about to run away again before Lewis stopped her.

“Sprigatito wait!” Lewis shouted.

The grass type skidded to a halt, but didn’t turn to face the boy.

“Darling, that was amazing! I didn’t know you had that kind of talent!” Lewis exclaimed.

Sprigatito felt like crying, she was embarrassed that someone, not a group of people saw her in the act.

“It was very beautiful!” Sara exclaimed.

“Eevee!” Oddity exclaimed.

Sprigatito slowly turned as the group saw tears in her eyes. She sniffled and tried to brush them away, but the tears continued to fall.

“Sprigatito what’s wrong?” Oliver asked.

Lewis knew exactly what was wrong. He walked over to Sprigatito and slowly put his hand on her head.

Sprigatito flinched, but her eyes widened, feeling Lewis pet her. She looked up at the researcher in shock.

“You love performing but you have stage fright. Isn’t that right darling?” Lewis asked.

Sprigatito’s eyes widened knowing Lewis was right. “Meow.” She replied, giving a nod.

“I heard your trainer left you,” Lewis said.

Sprigatito flinched and stepped back.

“Look, I know your old trainer hurt you! But I’m not that trainer!” Lewis yelled.

Sprigatito didn’t believe it. Not one bit. She stepped back ready to dash off, but Oddity came by her side.

“Eevee! Eevee Vee!” Oddity exclaimed telling Sprigatito to give Lewis a chance.

Sprigatito’s eyes widened, but she wasn’t so sure about Lewis.

“Sprigatito,” Wiatt spoke up. “Lewis is right, he’s not like your old trainer. He’s kind and sweet.”

Lewis smiled, slightly blushing at the comment.

“Meow. Meow?” Sprigatito asked, wondering if what Wiatt said was true about Lewis.

“Eevee!” Oddity exclaimed.

Sprigatito gave a small smile and looked up at the four. However, a Pokeball capsule came down from the ground and snatched Oddity and Sprigatito before being lifted up in the air.

The group gasped in horror.

“Sprigatito!” Lewis shouted.

“Oddity!” Wiatt shouted.

Laughter was heard as the group looked up to see a Meowth hot air balloon, and Team Rocket inside it.

“Oh great, not you three!” Sara yelled.

Team Rocket laughed as the group started their motto.

“We got a Sprigatitto, so prepare for trouble!” Jessie started.

“And we got an Eevee on the double!” James added.

“To protect the world from devastation.”

“To unite all peoples within our nation.”

“To denounce the evils of truth and love.”

“To extend our reach to the stars above!”

“Jessie!”

“James!”

“Team Rocket blasts off at the speed of light!”

“Surrender now or prepare for a fight!”

“Meowth! That’s right!” Meowth finished.

“Wobbuffet!” Wobbuffet added.

“Team Rocket!” Wiatt and his friends yelled. “Give back Oddity and Sprigatito!”

Team Rocket just laughed, “We heard the same question over and over, and it’s gonna be the same answer over and over.” Jessie started.

“No!” Team Rocket answered.

The group glared, as they didn’t have any other Pokemon that could help stop Team Rocket.

“Aww, what’s the matter twerps! Have no other Pokemon to stop us?” Meowth asked, mocking the group.

The balloon flew higher as Oddity and Sprigittito cried for help.

“Hang on, Oddity!” Wiatt yelled, chasing after Team Rocket.

“Wiatt! Hold on!” Lewis yelled following Wiatt. With Sara and Oliver right behind them.

Team Rocket looked down, seeing Wiatt and his friends chasing after them. “Ah, this is just like walking through memory lane.” Jessie sighed.

“It sure is!” James replied.

“Alright let’s pull these two Pokémon up to our balloon!” Meowth exclaimed. He pulled out the remote and pressed the button, but instead of pulling the two Pokémon up, it opened the capsule and everyone was in shock as the two Pokemon fell out.

Oddity and Sprigatito fell screaming as they started to fall to the ground at high speeds.

“Oddity!” Wiatt yelled.

“Sprigatito!” Lewis yelled.

The two boys caught their Pokémon respectively and hugged them tight. “Oddity, are you okay?” Wiatt asked.

“What about you darling?” Lewis asked.

“Eevee!” Oddity replied.

“Meow!” Sprigatito replied.

Wiatt smiled and hugged Oddity tight. Lewis sighed and hugged Sprigatito as well, which surprised her.

Meowth looked horrified as Jessie and James growled at their Pokémon. “Meowth! Why did you release them?!” Jessie exclaimed.

Meowth looked down at the remote and chuckled nervously. “Looks like I grabbed the wrong remote.”

“WRONG REMOTE?!” Jessie and James shouted at the same time.

“There were two remotes in the box! One to capture the Pokémon and one to release them!” Meowth exclaimed, showing the two remotes.

“Why would you get a contraption with two remotes!?” Jessie exclaimed.

“And how come you didn’t label them!?” James added.

Meowth frowned and looked down, “Well you two were rushing me so we don’t miss our appearance that I decided not to label them.” He explained.

“Wobbuffet!” Wobbuffet exclaimed.

Jessie and James sighed, but Jessie was the one to pick the team back up. “Well, now we have two remotes, and know which one is to release the Pokemon and the other to snatch them again!” Jessie exclaimed.

“Alright!” Meowth yelled as he pressed the button as the capsule went to capture the Pokemon again.

“Oddity! Use Shadow Ball to destroy that capsule!” Wiatt commanded.

Oddity jumped and launched a Shadow Ball at the capsule, destroying it. Team Rocket screamed seeing their only way of capturing Pokemon was destroyed.

Jessie glared as she took out a Pokeball. “Alright, I guess we’ll just take them by force!” She yelled. “Seviper, let's go!” She threw her Pokeball and out came her Seviper.

“Seviper!” Seviper hissed.

“Alright, Morpeko go!” James commanded throwing his Pokeball.

“More!” Morpeko exclaimed as they went next to Seviper and were ready to fight.

Oddity and Sprigatito growled and went in front of their trainers ready to battle.

“Seviper! Bite attack!” Jessie commanded.

“Morpeko, use Aura Wheel!” James commanded.

Morpeko formed a light blue energy before charging over at Oddity.

Seviper’s jaws opened, ready to chomp on Sprigatito, who shivered in fear seeing she was about to be attacked.

“Dodge it!” Wiatt and Lewis shouted at the same time.

Sprigatito’s eyes widened as she stepped to the side and did a little spin. Seviper tried to use Bite again, but Sprigatito did the same move again.

Oddity jumped up to the right away from Morpeko’s Aura Wheel.

“Oddity, Quick Attack!” Wiatt commanded.

Oddity started to dash and rammed into Morpeko, slamming them into a tree.

“Sprigatito, use Scratch on Seviper!” Lewis commanded.

Sprigatito jumped as her claw glowed white as she scratched Seviper on the face. The Fang Snake Pokemon hissed in pain.

“Wrap that little cat, Seviper!” Jessie shouted.

Seviper’s eyes widened as they wrapped Sprigatito with their tail. The grass-type Pokemon mewled in pain, but she glared and ended up using Bite on Seviper’s tail making the poison-type scream and letting go of Sprigatito.

“That was Bite!” Oliver exclaimed.

“Sprigatito is amazing!” Sara commented.

Sprigatito turned to the group and smiled. This boosted her confidence as she was ready to battle more.

“Morpeko! Stop that twerp with Aura Wheel!” James commanded.

“Mor!” Morpeko exclaimed, switching to Hangry Mode.

Oddity gasped seeing Morpeko change forms. Going from yellow and brown to purple and black with glowing red eyes.

“I’ve seen this before. Morpeko can switch to Hangry mode with every turn.” Wiatt explained. “Oddity dodge it and use Shadow Ball!”

Oddity jumped missing the Aura Wheel and then launched a Shadow Ball at Morpeko, which turned them back into normal mode and launched them back at Team Rocket’s balloon. The evil team screamed as Morpeko slammed into James’s face, knocking the two out.

This left Sprigatito and Oddity versus Jessie’s Seviper.

Seviper towered over the two like a giant, but Oddity and Sprigatito looked at each other and nodded ready to attack together.

“Seviper, stop those little brats with Poison Tail!” Jessie commanded.

“Seviper!” Seviper hissed as their tail turned purple.

“Dodge it!” Wiatt and Lewis yelled at the same time.

Oddity dashed out of the way, while Sprigatito danced out of the way. Seviper decided to attack Sprigatito instead and the Grass Cat Pokemon used some of her dance moves to doge every attack out of the way.

“Amazing! Keep at it, darling!” Lewis yelled.

Seviper kept using Poison Tail as Sprigatito kept on dancing and using her skills to dodge each attack.

“Hold still you little show off, and let Seviper crush you!” Jessie yelled.

Sprigatito kept doing what she was doing until she was backed into a tree. Seviper was ready to do the finishing blow, but Sprigatito jumped up missing the attack, and Seviper’s tail got stuck on the tree. Sprigatito then landed next to Seviper ready for Lewis to command the attack.

“Alright. Sprigatito use Leafage!” Lewis commanded.

Sprigatito let out a cry as she did a somersault in the air and launched leaves at Seviper, which removed them from the tree and straight into Team Rocket’s balloon. The attack caused the balloon to explode sending Team Rocket into another blast off.

“Well, I guess we learned our lesson of the day.” James started, holding Morpeko close.

“That no matter the twerps, new or old we’re still gonna lose?” Meowth answered.

“I think what James meant is next time label stuff so we don’t have problems next time!” Jessie yelled.

“Well, yes to both actually.” James revealed.

“Wobbuffet!” Wobbuffet exclaimed.

Jessie and Meowth sighed, “Well here’s one lesson Team Rocket learns every day.” Meowth said.

“Looks like Team Rocket is blasting off again!” Team Rocket yelled as they went far into the sky, as a star twinkled in the sky.

Sprigatito bowed seeing Team Rocket defeated, which means she ended the battle.

“Darling,” Lewis spoke up.

“Meow,” Sprigatito replied as she turned to Lewis.

“That was amazing what you did there!” He exclaimed.

Sprigatito turned away and gave a nervous smile.

Lewis knew Sprigatito was still nervous around him. “Sprigatito, let’s get back on track. I’m nothing like your old trainer. I’m willing to give you a chance.” He said.

“Meow. Meow.” Sprigatito replied, saying she wasn’t sure.

“I’ve known Lewis forever,” Sara spoke up. “He isn’t someone who would leave someone behind, he cares.”

“Same here,” Oliver spoke up. “He’s very caring.”

Sprigatito looked over at Lewis as kneeled in front of her. “I want you to have a second chance darling.” He said. “You're an amazing Pokémon, and you and I are going to go on adventures together.”

The grass cat Pokemon felt tears well up in her eyes and soon she jumped into Lewis’s arms as he caught her.

“So what do you say, darling? Want to tag along with us?” Lewis asked.

“Meow! Meow!” Sprigatito exclaimed, accepting the offer.”

Lewis chuckled and took out a Pokeball. Before he could tap it on Sprigatito, the grass cat Pokémon used her paw to open the Pokeball as she went inside. The Pokeball shook a few times before a click was heard indicating the capture was successful.

“Welcome to our team, darling,” Lewis whispered. “Sprigatito come on out!”

The Pokeball opened and Sprigatito came right out smiling. “Meow!” She explained.

Oddity went over to her and put his paw out, “Eevee. Vee.” He said, translating to welcome to the team.

“Meow!” Sprigatito exclaimed as she shook Oddity’s paw. The two started to chase and play with each other causing the group to laugh.

“Well, looks like Oddity’s made a best friend!” Wiatt exclaimed.

“He sure has,” Lewis replied.

Sprigatito stopped and looked at Lewis before jumping into his arms again. Lewis chuckled and held her back glad to have met his first ever Pokemon.

~~~~

Fun Facts: Might do this at the end of every fanfic just for fun. Might go back to the previous chapters and drop some, but these will start at the end of every chapter. If I can come up with ideas.

Sprigatito is female.

(Spoilers for next chapter) When Sprigatito is happy or sees someone stressed her aroma from her paws gives off a nice scent that makes one relaxed.

Also, I won’t say who, but I do plan on introducing Sprigatito’s former trainer at some point, and BOY will you guys be all in for a treat!

Also, I officially made Lewis a cat dad! Or a Cat Pokemon Dad!

#welcome to dreamworld #wtdw #wtdw au #wtdw sara #pokemon au #dreamers of myths and legends #dreamers of myths & legends #wtdw wiatt #wtdw lewis #wtdw oliver #Team Rocket

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