The Soldier Of Death (7)- Recruitment
Natasha Romanoff X Super Soldier Reader 18+
Summary: Soldat Smerti. The Soldier of Death. You were the perfect weapon: loyal, obedient, and merciless, or so Hydra thought. What happens when these traits are put to the test? Your captivity in the Avenger's tower and the presence of a redhead makes you realise you didn't have to be a monster. The question was though; Did Hydra make you the monster or were you always one?
This fic will contains dark themes. Please read these warnings before starting any of these chapters: graphic descriptions of murder, violence, gore and torture, heavy angst, mental issues.
Please consider these warnings before reading
Word Count: 2.7k
General Masterlist | The Soldier Of Death Masterlist
Chapter Warning: Dark thoughts, anxiety, brief reference to torture
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"You wanted to see me?" Natasha says as she strolls into Nick's office, him requesting her presence as soon as possible. The redhead ditched the mission reports she was doing to come and see the Director, having a feeling this was something far more important.
"How are things progressing with our Soldat Smerti?" he asks as his eye is trained on her, his expression blank as he doesn't want to give away his ideas. Natasha also keeps her face stoic as for some reason the name he called you bothered her, did he not see that your name was Y/n on the file she submitted?
"She's open to talking more, still very hesitant and cautious but that's understandable for someone who's been institutionalised for a large amount of time, especially someone who was maltreated," Natasha replies, having spent more time with you over the last couple of weeks, still delivering your food but also trying to get you to talk more, expressing how you weren't going to be hurt here.
"You have taken a liking to her," he says, a little out of nowhere, catching the redhead by surprise. "You would have made your assessment by now but you seem to be waiting for something," her jaw clenches subtly, not liking how somehow this man was always able to have some sort of read on her. "What are you waiting for?"
"She wants to accept our offer," Natasha answers honestly, the man's smile sneaking onto his lips as his own plans were falling into place, the assassin unaware of his ideas. "She's just scared."
"Do you think she could be an Avenger?" He asks and she pauses for a moment, thinking carefully about his question. She could see that same glint in your eyes that she had when she was first rescued from the red room, that hopeful glint that you would be able to be more than what they made you, but at the same time the fear of betrayal hovering at the back of your mind.
"In time, yes," Fury moves to stand from his chair, moving to lean against the front of his desk while Natasha stands in front of him, her arms crossing over her chest as the man ponders for a moment.
"Why are you so sure about her?" Natasha watches the man's curious gaze, his hands resting against the wooden desk as the redhead responds to her boss.
"When Clint didn't take his shot against me in Budapest, he told me that he had this gut feeling about me, that I could be more than what they made me," Fury listens with interest at Natasha's words, remembering the mixed emotions he felt that day when Clint disobeyed his orders but helped saved what would soon become one of his most valuable agents. "I have this same feeling about her," she confesses and the man knows not to take this lightly, the Russian never letting her emotions affect her work, renowned for her professionalism.
The room lingers in silence for a moment, both figures letting the weight of the situation settle before Fury speaks up, a plan having formed in his head.
"Talk to the team about her being potentially recruited, see what they make of it," he says and Natasha is a bit suspicious as to why she was doing it, Fury normally taking the lead on these types of situations.
"What are you going to do?" she asks and he just chuckles at her scepticism.
"I'm going to talk her into accepting our offer," he says, the smile now visible on his lips as he sees the small one tugging at the redhead's lips, "See you soon Romanoff."
***
"He wants to do what?" Steve's tone laced with disbelief as he braces his arms on the kitchen island, having just finished making a smoothie after his morning run.
"He wants us to give her a chance," Natasha answers, the super soldier letting out a sigh before taking a large sip of his drink, the rest of the team gathered in various places around the common room, listening in to the conversation.
They were all up to date about you, brief knowledge of your past and known abilities being sent to them all in your file once you were brought back into the base and put in the glass cell. They knew you were powerful and loyal, so the question was would you be able to betray Hydra and trust them.
"Why should we do that? She's done nothing to prove she won't just try and kill us all," Steve says, still bitter about the pain in his side, multiple ribs having been broken during the last encounter with you, the moment where you almost decapitated him also being added to the list as to why he wasn't fond of you. "She's powerful and dangerous," he says, caution in his tone as he tries to get his point across, "She's also clearly not in control."
"She needs our help," Wanda cuts in, taking a few by surprise as she tended to stay quiet during conversations like this, only speaking once someone asked her opinion. "We can help her, that's what we do right? As Avengers?" Her words settle in a few, Natasha smiling at the brunette woman and nodding her head subtly in appreciation.
"I can't believe I'm going to say this," Tony says, finally speaking up which was unlike his character, normally first to voice his opinion in literally anything. "I agree partly with the old man," he says, earning a disapproving look from Steve at the nickname, "We can't be sure it's safe. Statistically, the chances of her losing control or hurting one of us is extremely high."
"See someone who agrees-" Steve tries to say, being cut off by the billionaire.
"I haven't finished Capsicle," he says, a mocking smile on his lip at the other nickname he called Steve who just glared at the man. "But since when has anything we have done been safe?"
"That's because of you Tony," Steve mutters, "You're the one who always puts us in these situations,"
"Last I recall, you were the one who wanted an ex-hydra brainwashed murderer to join our team, what's different about this one?" Steve's jaw visibly clenches at Tony's description of Bucky, the brown haired man making a valid point though. You were extremely similar to Bucky, if they could help him, why couldn't they help you?
"Bucky's different," he grits out, defending his best friend while everyone else in the room notices the tension rising in the atmosphere. "I know him."
"Knew," corrects Tony, "You knew him, Hydra changed him."
"This isn't about Bucky," Natasha cuts in, not wanting a proper fight to break out between the two, the billionaire lacking the care of stepping too far over the line, Steve being far too defensive about his friend. "Look at the facts, yes she's hydra but how many of us here have a past we want to forget, we want to put behind us? She's no different to some of you when you first joined, so why should we put that against her?"
Everyone listens as Natasha takes control of the room, Clint hiding a smile at his best friend and noticing this was her moment with you. She wasn't taking her shot with you just as he did her.
"As Steve said, she's powerful, we need that if we want to stop Hydra and any other threats."
"Since when did you do the speeches Romanoff," teases Tony, already making his mind up about his stance on your potential recruitment to the team. "How about we have a vote?" he says, using his typical cocky voice to get the other's opinion, "Who thinks Y/n should join?"
In his usual manner, Tony playfully raises his arm, making a show of himself before looking around the room to see who else agrees. Wanda raises her arm up shyly, Natasha doing so more confidently, just not as dramatically as the billionaire, Clint also raising his hand up as he trusts Natasha's gut feeling about you, the rest of those in the room, being Steve, Bruce and Vision, Sam and Thor currently not available, keeping theirs down.
Steve goes to protest, but the sounds of footsteps can be heard, interrupting the conversation.
"Well, I'm glad the vote went in our favour," Fury says as he strides into the room with authority, the room going quiet as they see you standing by his side, face stoic to mask your nerves.
Everything was so loud, the electricity buzzing around the room, the tv playing in the corner, the sounds of fists clenching, bodies tensing, hearts starting to race, it was all too loud. It was overwhelming. Steve's heart in particular started to pound against his rib cage, the memories of your last encounter causing him to be tense and on edge, your gaze meeting his blue for a split second before flickering away.
They think we're a monster. They're scared and they should be.
Taunts the darkness, your mask slipping for a second, showing a brief sense of doubt behind your eyes before your face returns to being stoic, mind fighting the gnawing corruption and forcing it to be silent.
"Meet Y/n, your new teammate," Fury says nonchalantly but also in a tone that leaves no room for argument, a few shocked faces as Natasha said potential teammate, not someone who would be joining instantly.
"Fury..." Steve's voice dies out with the glare sent his way, your eyes fixated on the view out of the window, everything else seeming to fade away.
The compound overlooked acres and acres of field and forest, the sun gently shining down onto the grass causing it to look vibrant, the simple sight of nature almost a phenomenon to you. Too busy staring out of the window, you miss the small smile that creeps up on Natasha's face, Fury going to have a private word with a few of the team while you slowly made your way towards the windows.
You could feel a few people staring at you, your mind trying to stop the racing thoughts and focus on calming down, not wanting to have some sort of panic attack from all the attention on you. You had to block out the incessant heartbeats, the signs of their fear and tried to focus on the steady one nearby. Only once you turned your head did you realise that it was Natasha who was calm, casually walking up to you as you turned your head back to admire the view.
"It's beautiful," you whisper, not used to having such a clear view of outside your surroundings. You were used to concrete walls surrounding you, or even glass ones in a secure room, not the large windows that practically filled the entire wall, displaying the wonders of the outside world.
"It is," she murmurs back, turning her gaze from you to back outside. The others watched from the distance as you two stood near the window, Natasha talking to you while you made sure to memorise every detail you possibly could about the view. "What made you accept the offer?" she asks, curious as to what Fury must have said to you to get you to finally accept it, her emerald eyes scanning over your relaxing features.
Before you can reply, the sound of Steve's voice becoming louder interrupts the moment, Fury's stare hardening at the super soldier.
"This is going to go wrong, it isn't the right move," he says in warning before grabbing his smoothie and leaving the room, shaking his head as he enters the elevator, "I thought we did things as a team Fury, made decisions together."
"You did and you were outvoted," Fury replies and Steve just scoffs at the idea they were using a random voting method to decide your place on the team. He doesn't bother arguing back, letting the doors shut, Fury dismissing everyone and asking for you to join him in the kitchen, away from everyone.
"Remember our deal," he says, tone serious as he addresses you, "Any indication that you're not being honest with us, and you're straight back in a cell, don't make me have to do that Soldier." You nod in understanding, eyes flickering over to a glass on the table, your reflection staring back at you.
What have you done? This was a trap.
Get us out now. If you don't do it, I will. I won't be merciful.
The darkness claws at your mind, your stare going blank for a second as Fury continues to talk to you. The man notices how you seem to grow distant for a second, blinking before returning your attention towards him.
"I will leave you to adjust to everything," he says, catching the nervousness in your eyes and assuming it was from the new environment, not your broken mind. He knows it will be hard to adjust, but he has faith in the rest of the team to help you, especially after the talk he just gave them.
With Fury gone, you're left to sit alone, basking in your thoughts as Natasha holds back with Wanda, watching how the witch seems to be able to hear some of your thoughts while also keeping an eye on you, reading your body language.
Your leg bounces steadily, fingers gripping the glass a little too tight, her brows furrowing at how anxious you seem, never having showed signs like this when you were with her in the cell.
They're always going to be scared of the Soldat.
They sneer, your fingers loosening around the glass as you can feel it straining, about to shatter, the darkness laughing at the close call of losing control already.
You're going to snap. Lose control. This will all be for nothing because I will get out. I will get out and do what needs to be done.
You remain quiet, not in the position to be able to snap back at the darkness, letting them taunt and tease you, trying to get you to lose your composure. You had to learn how to deal with them, how to keep them under control, otherwise they were right. You would snap.
I can't wait to watch the life drain from their eyes, to watch them suffer.
Your jaw clenches painfully, their words purposely trying to rile you up, to prove Steve right that you were dangerous, but you don't react as Natasha comes to sit next to you. She sees straight through the small smile you send her way, Wanda having quietly told her that your static-like mind was growing louder and you needed some sort of distraction, and decides to inform you of the plan for the rest of the day, Fury having told her before he left.
"You've got a busy day ahead of you," she teases softly, emerald eyes matching her tone as she watches you fight yourself internally, your gaze eventually turning to meet her gentle one. "I'll show you around the compound first, then it's medical tests quickly and then showcasing your skills so we have a better understanding of your abilities, is that alright?"
"Medicals?" you say, hesitation evident in your eyes, Natasha's gaze going to your fingers , how they subconsciously trace your veins where you were most likely tested on before.
You can remember the agony you felt from all the injections they forced into you, the searing pain that felt like it was burning you from the insides, test after test, torture after torture, you didn't want to go through that again.
"We just check your vitals to make sure you're healthy," she explains, still watching how your fingers moved to trace a scar instead, your mind still processing something.
"Would I be alone?"
"I'll be there with you," her tone reassuring, the redhead noticing how you visibly relax, hands dropping to your sides to rest. "Now come on, we've got an entire compound to go around," she says with a playful smile, standing up from the chair and motioning for you to follow her, ready to give you a tour of hopefully your new home.
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CIY CH 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
📍Pairing: detective ateez ot8 x detective afab reader
📍Summary: "Made for you"
📍WC: 3.1k
📍AU: detective/mafia
📍Genre: action, dark themes, poly romance
📍Warning(s): 18+ rating, some angst, suggestive
📍Nets: @pirateeznet | @mirohs-aurora-society
📍Beta readers (and sole motivation): @flurrys-creativity , @candypop1611 , @yourfatherlucifer , @skteezcursed and edited(usually) by the amazing: @daemour
📍dividers made by: @cafekitsune
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The two of you shared a moment before you pulled away, finding the spark of tenderness in his eyes alarming. Despite the trust you just spoke of, it was still hard to lean into it without anxiety.
Others had shown you tenderness.
“So, you said you wanted to know my feelings right? Now that everything is on the table.” You glanced down at your drink, only for your eyes to flicker up when you thought he flinched- but his expression was the same, just a new tilt to his head.
“Right right. Though I think I understand already, Angel. We're growing on you aren't we? But you're scared? After the way your last unit handled things, I can understand that-”
You sighed when he trailed off. “But not entirely huh?” At his nod, you know it's your turn to indulge some personal information. “It was more than just a betrayal of comrades. I was close with them, considered them family. Mingi didn't… he didn't tell you all?”
He shook his head, his undivided attention on you now, listening with encouragement that was making this talk a bit easier. “He said a few choice things about Captain Chan but otherwise didn't go into details why his negative feelings were so strong. We assumed he just felt that strongly about you, considering he admitted to punching him and pretending to be your boyfriend during an altercation.” The corners of his lips turned up vaguely, which you assumed was due to your own flustered expression.
You were touched by Mingi's feelings, remembering his many attempts to prove he did like you and wanted you. As well as the fact that he hadn’t seemed to give up details about your harsh rejection, just how he had stepped in and played the rough hero you hadn't wanted but needed. “I see… I owe him an apology then. I assumed he had told you all about what happened.”
“Camera in the hall. We have Mingi bring women there because we can get surveillance footage of it all up to when He takes them inside. So… Yeosang indulged a bit and we didn't give Mingi a choice. Though he didn't go into details…”
You sighed, somewhat appeased. “Yunho made a comment… So I assumed.”
“Ah, Yunho is a different story. Those two tell each other everything. They grew up together. Would you be comfortable telling me?” It was the fact he was asking, putting your comfort first, that eased your nerves enough.
So you told him, recounting the story with a detached tone to make it easier on yourself. You told him of how you confessed to Chan supposedly, how the next time you saw him he served you with the transfer papers. You told him of your outburst immediately after, demanding the others to tell you who agreed you should transfer since Chan said it was a team decision. Minho, you're best friend had agreed and he hasn't contacted you. And then there was Felix.
That's how you were banned from contact because of the hell you raised. Changbin had to remove you from the office with some uniforms, an ugly sight. The man had no doubt sported a bruise or two on his face afterwards.
You told him about Felix, how you were sure you had loved him, and that you couldn't have faulted him for it. He thought he was looking out for you. Always sweet intentions.
You ended the story with the altercation in front of your apartment, playing with the empty beverage cup and unable to keep the emotion in your tone as you told him of Chan's confession before Mingi stepped in.
Silence followed, the air heavy and weighing down on your shoulders. The longer it lasted, the more anxious you became until you finally sparred a glance at him. After pouring your heart out, figuratively, pure undiluted anger was not what you expected to see on his face.
“Angel… I-” He started off, gaping like a fish as he seemed to struggle with what to say. The way his expression hardened like cold steel, eyes still burning with that ire as he glanced behind you, had you shifting to turn. “Don't turn around. You have some bad luck it seems.”
You were quite confused until you heard it, heard them. “Chan, that's not what I'm saying at all.”
“Then what are you implying Minho?” The sound of chairs scraping behind you slid up your spine like nails on a chalkboard. “First her, then Hyunjin, now Felix. I'm losing the hold on the unit.” The familiar gruff voice told you just how stressed he was, and you knew he hadn't been sleeping again.
Guilt grabbed at you as if this was your fault, hands bracing on the table to stand up and leave because like hell you wanted to stick around and listen to this. To let them hurt you even more.
Yet Seonghwa's hand reached out and grabbed your wrist, shaking your head and bringing a finger to his lips. Whatever game he wanted to play, while it confused you, your hands relaxed and you stayed silent.
“Hyunjin will come around, he always does, he cares for Felix and the rest. He made it no secret he was unhappy about the transfer. And Felix… he'll listen to you. You just have to talk to him- properly this time.” Minho urged, his voice closest to you.
“Because I do that so fucking well. You told me everything would work out if I put in the transfer request, Min. But why haven't you talked to her either?” A beat of silence. “Yes I'm aware you haven't reached out. Hyunjin was loud about that when I pushed Felix for answers. You're her best friend, why are you silent? Did you fuck this up on purpose? I trusted you when you said I could have her this way.”
Panic surged through you at this revelation; is this why Minho hadn't talked to you? Your whole transfer was his idea? Why? You had believed he had known you best, that he would have been on your side. That, just maybe, he hadn't talked to you because he was just giving you space?
This betrayal hit harder than Chan's.
“I thought she would understand. You received enough warnings about her, they were going to take action against the whole unit at that rate.” Minho sneered out, the edge in his tone snapping you out of the dizzying spell the pain had you under.
Chan scoffed. “Please, you didn't want her to get in the way of your career. I know the higher ups talk down on you, even when they are bad mouthing her they still recognize her drive. You were in her shadow and-”
Seonghwa slammed his hands on the table, standing up now. He glared at the two behind you with such a menacing fury it snapped you out of the spiral in your mind and gave him all of your undivided attention. Especially when he growled out your name.
He moved around the table and pulled you up by your waist. You were captivated by the wrath radiating off of him when you realized it was entirely on your behalf. “Vi-”
He shut you up with a harsh kiss, pulling you fully onto your feet with the motion. The sounds Chan and Minho made noticing your presence were distant noises to your own thoughts at Seonghwa's kiss. You could feel his anger, but also his desire for you with every harsh stroke of his lips. Heat flooded your body, drowning out the cold betrayal that had settled in the pit of your stomach a moment ago.
The groan he let out when you kissed back went right to your core. For a quick moment he deepened it, grip on your waist tightening enough to pull a moan out of your lips. It was that sound that had him pulling away, but only his lips to glare back at the other two. “Your trash, our treasure.”
It left you spinning, the emotion ringing in those words as he dragged you out of the cafe. You hadn't even bothered to look back at them, staring up at Seonghwa instead with a plethora of emotions on your open expression.
Seonghwa chuckled as he pulled you over to his motorbike; it was a dark and unhinged sound that added to the growing cotton in your head. He had just shown you how caring and sweet he could be: respectful even. And then the anger- you couldn't really untangle the mess of emotions that had you feeling, just that you didn't dislike it.
And there was a touch of horniness there. Well… that's interesting.
Seonghwa once more jostled you out of your thoughts as he lifted you up onto the bike facing him, stepping closer to slot himself between your open legs. You glanced up at him, once more with your thoughts and emotions worn on your features as you were still figuratively reeling. “Vice?”
“Call me by my name- no my nickname Angel.” He said as he leaned forward, pressing his lips to the apples of your cheeks, then the tip of your nose, forehead, and finally lips. “And tell me not to go in there and get violent.”
You couldn't help the gasp that left your lips, immediately getting swallowed by him in what felt like a desperate kiss. He had just told you he was a peacekeeper, a negotiator of sorts, so for him to say he wanted to be violent?
“Hwa-” It fell from your lips like a soft caress, your arms wrapping around his neck to pull him closer against you, “-Don't go in there and get violent.”
Despite doing what he said, he protested with a pout, lips trailing along your jaw to your neck. “Why not? They hurt you. Absolute scum. Treated you like trash when you're so… so much more than them. They lost a good fucking thing.” His angry words were paired with little bites and nibbles, grip tight on your ass now As he pressed the length of his torso against yours.
It warmed your heart, and turned you on even more. “Th-they deserve your anger, Hwa. Would rather- ah fuck- rather have you like this.” He had found your sweet spot, melting you further against him as his lips attacked it once more with a soft bite. “Hwa~ please I-”
Tugging at his hair to pull away, you tugged on it harder when you heard those two familiar voices calling out to you. He delatched himself from you, quickly turning you on the bike and pulling the helmet on. “Time to go.” Voice still gruff as he pulled his own helmet on.
He started up the bike just as the two reached you, this time you allowed yourself to look. Chan looked pale, distraught, tears in his eyes you weren't going to acknowledge. But Minho- it was the first time you saw him in nearly two months and he too looked ragged… and angry. But he always looked angry when he was upset about something, even if it wasn't you, so you didn't think about that either.
Instead, as the bike beneath you roared to life drowning their words, you gave them the bird as you latched onto Seonghwa’s waist with your other arm. He drove off in the next second, speeding through the streets to leave them both behind. Both literally and figuratively.
They weren't your unit anymore, especially those two.
Seonghwa dropped you off at the club soon enough, the bike still running as you got off and handed him the helmet. You used the ride to really think about what had happened, what Seonghwa proved to you.
You tapped on his helmet, asking him in a roundabout way to take it off. He shook his head in reply. So with a bit of a pout, you kissed the visor where you guessed his cheek would be. “Thank you for today Hwa. I appreciate it. You'll be picking me up?”
He nodded.
Smiling, you fixed your hair. “Then I'd like to continue later if we can.” With a wink you turned and headed inside.
Minho's betrayal felt like a distant memory now, wrapping yourself into work and looking forward to seeing the Vice-Captain again.
You had loved Chan, loved Felix, but neither of them, or anyone else you knew, made you feel like this.
Seen. Respected. Cared for. Supported. Wanted. All of that and genuinely.
Well, no one before this unit. Wooyoung popped up in your head. So did Hongjoong. San, Yeosang, and Mingi too, to an extent. There were moments with them all that had you feeling like this.
As if you weren't fully alone. In those moments you had felt like you could let your walls down, let them in, and feel loved and accepted as a whole.
Seonghwa had you feeling like that again when he picked you up, quiet on the ride back but once he was parked in front of your apartment again, he was a gentleman. He took your helmet off first, then his, and immediately pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Were you okay today Angel?”
You knew he wasn't talking about the work, but what happened. “Surprisingly… yeah. And I think that's because of you.”
His eyes went wide as he cupped your face, pupils shining in the lowlight from the street lamp. “What do you mean?”
Suddenly flustered, you tried to look away. Ah, feelings and admitting them: two things you struggled with. “I mean… the way you reacted, to what I told you and to them, was uh… oddly comforting? I didn't feel… well it's kinda like-”
He chuckled softly, placing a hand on the small of your back. “Take a moment to think about that but I think I know what you mean.”
“You do?” You looked up at him as he lead you inside, letting you put in the code before stepping in.
“Yeah. I uh, don't get along with my parents. Didn't follow in the family footsteps. It's a choice I made alone and it was scary, I didn't really have anyone who would understand my situation either… until I met Hongjoong. I told him about it, when I found out they are setting my sister up to be married off to, well, one of the underworld. He got angry, but not at me. It was the first time I saw him so furious as well.” He sighed, walking you up the stairs, taking his time to just talk with you.
You caught on to the vital piece of information he dropped, realizing that while Seonghwa’s parents had Golden Circle connections, he was working hard to take them down. He had something at stake here, making him the fourth- no fifth one in the unit who had some tie to the underworld.
Your vendetta against Taejin Hwon felt so small in comparison.
But you also noticed the fondness that settled over his features at the memories he brought up, an adorable curve to his lips and a soft light in his eyes at the mention of Hongjoong's anger specifically.
He cared for Hongjoong deeply, and you admired that about them; felt a bit jealous even.
“He was angry for me, because it hurt me, and it was the first time in a while I didn't feel so alone. It was comforting, and the weight on my shoulders was a little less debilitating.” Stopping in front of your door, he turned to you fully. “And it seems this was that moment for you… am I right?”
“Y-yeah. I mean I've had people get angry for me before, to an extent but this felt… different.” You couldn't meet his eyes, feeling unnaturally shy for once. Perhaps it was due to the amount of vulnerable moments you've had with him today; opening up in a way that took even Hyunjin a while to get out of you.
You couldn't forget Han and Felix, he'll even Changbin and the two younger ones- they all had moments you knew they genuinely cared. But this was different. Seonghwa, and this unit was different. You just couldn't put your finger on it.
“Talk with San tonight, maybe tell him what you told me?” Seonghwa offered, lifting your chin so you would meet his eyes again. “Can I have your permission to confide today with Hongjoong? Only the details you want told of course, I wouldn't-”
“You can tell him everything.” You blurted out, grasping onto the bravery and courage you usually had and pulling it to the surface. “I trust you Seonghwa, more than I'd like to admit right now but… if you trust Hongjoong enough you get all doe eyed when you talk about him, then I trust he is as trustworthy of this information as you are.”
Seonghwa blushed at that, a beautiful sight to behold, before he buried his reddening cheeks against your shoulder. “You are… truly a treasure.”
Now it was your turn to get flustered. “Hwa… will you come inside?”
“Want to… but can't.”
“Why not?” Your fingers carded through his hair, pout in your tone.
He hummed softly, leaning in closer. “Because if I come in right now I won't leave so easily. And I have somewhere to be before the sun rises.” When you whined again, he pressed a soft kiss to your collarbone before stepping back. “Sorry Angel.”
He left a moment later, and nearly an hour later you were calling up San while laying in bed, freshly showered.
“Finally! I thought you forgot about me sweetcheeks.” His voice in your ear had you flustered.
“I just needed a little extra courage to call. Are you doing okay?”
“I'm fine… Why the extra courage?”
“No reason in particular, just, wasn't ready to talk about what happened in the gym. Especially since I know they know.”
You heard him hiss, picturing him physically flinching at your words. “I'm sorry about that I-”
“It’s alright. I know it was Yeosang. I'll be talking to him later about it. For now. I miss you. Is it okay to just talk?”
And you did. You told him, surprisingly, everything. About Wooyoung, the job, Seonghwa, and of your old unit. He listened, even reacted much like Seonghwa did.
You felt it again. That sense you were loved, that you weren't alone… but this time you figured it out.
It felt like you were finally home.
And as San said, once again, you were perfect for them- You thought it went both ways. They were made for you.
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Event Horizon
Chapter Ten: Truth
Chapter WC: 8,808
Chapter Tags/Warnings: none
A/N: Checked the wordcount on the completed chapters doc today and it's over 100k already?? anyway the next few chapters are for real my fav. i live for the drama
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Coruscant, 21 BBY
"I can't believe they gave me Archive duty," Ahsoka groans, rolling her eyes.
You smirk, turning the page of the dusty tomb lying in front of you. You had managed to escape the ire of the Council thanks to Obi-Wan, but Ahsoka was not so lucky. She was sentenced to "volunteer work" at the Temple Archives indefinitely, a punishment that she seemed to take very personally.
You had offered to keep her company while you were still recovering, and you had to admit, when you weren’t forced to be here, it was kind of fun. There was something calming about the Archives, the smell of old paper and leather, the dim light, the quiet.
You'd spent more time here than most other Jedi, and even though the work was often tedious, it was something you found peace in. Ahsoka didn't seem to feel the same.
"It's not that bad," you say, your eyes scanning the page. "Besides, if you hadn't disobeyed Anakin, this wouldn't have happened."
"Well, maybe, if he hadn't given the order in the first place—"
"Ahsoka."
"I know, I know," she sighs, her shoulders slumping. She pushes the crate she was organizing to the side and collapses on a nearby bench, her arms crossed. "He's just...so frustrating sometimes."
"Yeah," you chuckle. “He is.”
“Did you ever feel that way about Master Yaddle?"
"Sometimes," you reply. You glance up from your reading and smile at her. "But I’m sure I frustrated her much more. I’m still not sure why she took me as her Padawan, honestly."
"Because you're a great Jedi," Ahsoka points out. She grins and leans forward, her chin resting on her hands. "And, because, despite what you say, you're actually pretty nice."
"Nice?"
"Yeah," she laughs. "You're one of the few Jedi I can talk to about things. You listen. Not everyone does."
"You could talk to Master Plo, or Anakin, or even Obi-Wan," you say, closing the book. You look at her, a frown on your face. "There's a lot more Jedi in the Temple."
"I know, but..." Her voice trails off, and her expression grows sad, the humor fading. “You’re the only one who’s not trying to teach me some kind of lesson. Who isn’t expecting something from me. You don't care that I'm young, or that I'm not a real Jedi yet, or—"
"You are a real Jedi," you interrupt. You stand and walk over to her, taking a seat beside her, your hands resting on your knees. "Don't ever doubt that. I don't. I know how strong you are, and I know what you're capable of. And, so does Anakin. Don't let this one mistake define you."
She sighs and rests her elbows on her thighs, her chin cupped in her palms. "I know, but it's hard," she says quietly. "Everyone has an opinion, and they're all just waiting for me to mess up again. To prove that I'm not fit to be a Jedi."
"That's not true," you tell her. "The Council might be a little disappointed with your actions, but no one doubts that you belong here, Ahsoka. No one."
She doesn't respond.
You watch her carefully, your brow furrowed. It isn’t lost on you how similar her words are to your own internal monologue, and how often she mirrors your own thoughts and fears. She’s just a kid, and you remember being her age, the pressure, the weight of expectation, and the struggle to be enough.
While you doubt you’ll ever feel like you measure up, or will ever stop feeling like an outsider, you know, deep down, that no matter what happens, the Order is where you belong. You belong with the Jedi. There is no other place for you than here.
"If it makes you feel any better," you say, trying to lighten the mood. You nudge her shoulder. “You’re only continuing the tradition of disobedience set by your Masters before you. Anakin, Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon—“ you pause and let out a sharp breath before continuing “—and his master have all done their time here. Practically a rite of passage, I’d say.”
She rolls her eyes and nudges you back. "You're not funny."
"Sure I am."
“You can’t honestly expect me to believe Master Kenobi ever had to do this," she scoffs. "I mean, he's like, the perfect Jedi."
"Ha! Well, I guess you'd be surprised."
You smirk, remembering the many times Obi-Wan had come to your aid during your years as younglings, covering for you and, often, getting himself into just as much trouble as you.
It was always Obi-Wan, with his clever words and quick wit, who got the two of you out of hot water, and you always found it amusing how no one seemed to realize it was him who had started the whole thing. It was like people couldn’t see past the image they had of him, or their assumptions, and it made him the perfect accomplice.
"We caused plenty of chaos back in the day,” you add with a fond smile. "I can't even begin to tell you all the stories I could share. I have years worth of them."
"Oh really?"
"Yep," you confirm. "Obi-Wan was a terror."
Ahsoka snorts and raises an eyebrow. "Now I know you're lying."
"It's true. He was a troublemaker. Still is, if I'm being honest,” you laugh. "We were the worst influences on each other. That's probably why we became such good friends."
"I can't imagine Master Obi-Wan doing anything even close to disobeying the rules," Ahsoka says. She leans forward, her chin in her palms, a mischievous grin on her face. You smile back and cross your legs, settling into the bench. "I'm going to need proof, or a story. Either will do."
"What do you want to hear?"
"Something crazy," she prompts. "Something he would never tell me. Something wild. And then I'll believe it."
You chuckle and lean back against the wall, your eyes drifting, the memories filling your mind. You could think of a hundred different tales, many of them far too embarrassing to repeat, and most of them you doubted would be appropriate to tell an impressionable teenager. You were not the best storyteller, but if Ahsoka wanted entertainment, you could oblige. If only a little.
"Okay, okay, let's see..." you muse, thinking. "Okay, here's one. When I was thirteen years old, Obi-Wan was a newly made Padawan, and I was still a youngling. One day, we had a day off from training, and, well, let's just say, we weren't exactly sticking around the Temple."
"Where did you go?"
"Well, Obi-Wan had heard about this place," you continue, smiling. "Apparently, there was this abandoned warehouse deep in the lower levels, converted it into a kind of club. It was the coolest thing we had ever seen, and we were determined to get in. Only problem was, we were a bit too young. Not that that stopped us. We had been going to this club, sneaking out, for about a week, before a member of the Jedi Council caught us."
"Which one?"
"Master Plo, actually,” you say, a smirk tugging at your lips. "We got lucky. I think he was more impressed than upset."
Ahsoka lets out a snort and covers her mouth. "No."
"Yes," you insist. "He caught us sneaking out of the Temple and followed us. We made it all the way to the warehouse before we realized he was right behind us."
"How did you get away with it?"
"We didn't," you chuckle. "I think we had a few choice words with the Council that night. But we got to go back to the club a few more times before we were caught again. Obi-Wan managed to get himself banned a few months later, though. Something about trying to fight a guy over a girl."
You look away, biting your cheek. Ahsoka didn't need to know that you were the girl. That it was the first, and the only time that the two of you had kissed. You were both so young, and it was nothing more than a childish attempt at romance. It was a bittersweet memory, tinged with a touch of guilt, and you had long ago buried it.
"I'll have to ask him about that," she teases. "I bet there's a lot more stories he'd never tell me."
"You can try," you challenge. "Good luck."
"What was he like?" Ahsoka asks. She shifts on the bench, turning her body toward you, her eyes sparkling. "Before he was a Knight, or a Master, or...all that. What was he like back then?"
"He was different," you tell her. You hesitate, your brow furrowing, and you shrug. "He was...happier. More carefree. He didn't take things as seriously as he does now."
"He's still pretty carefree," Ahsoka points out. She tilts her head, her gaze growing thoughtful, and a small frown tugs at her lips. "I've never really seen him angry, or upset. Except for when you were in the bacta tank."
You pause. You hadn't thought much about Obi-Wan while you were recovering. Your mind had been a bit preoccupied with other matters, but now, looking back, you had noticed the dark circles under his eyes, and the tension in his shoulders, and the way his jaw clenched every time someone brought up the battle. It had only been a week since your return, and yet, he seemed to have aged ten years, and the worry was still plain on his face.
Even now, there was still a distance, a coldness, between the two of you. He hadn't been by the Healers Ward again, and he'd avoided you at the debriefing with the Council even though he'd spoken in your favor.
"He was worried," you say simply. You glance down at your hands and twist your fingers, swallowing the sudden tightness in your throat.
"I’m sure you’ve noticed that we share a bond. Something like a Master and Padawan bond. It's stronger, because we were raised together, and because our abilities complement each other, and, well, because we've spent our whole lives together."
"What is it like?" she asks. Her eyes are wide, and she's listening intently, her attention focused on you. "Having a bond with someone? Does it hurt?"
"Sometimes," you confess. You let out a heavy sigh, and you look down, your expression troubled. "When the other person is in danger, or suffering, it can be difficult to deal with. And, sometimes, it can be overwhelming. Obi-Wan is quite skilled at shielding, but...I’m not so fortunate. I’m sure feeling my pain was not easy for him."
It’s an excuse, and you know it. But the truth was much harder to admit. Obi-Wan being upset enough at your injuries that Ahsoka had picked up on it was an uncomfortable thought. The reality of how deeply you had hurt him, and the fact that you hadn’t even considered how he would feel, was not something you were prepared to deal with. Not right now. Perhaps not ever.
"You're close," she comments, her voice soft. She hesitates, and she gives you a sad smile, her eyes searching yours. "I...I don't have a bond with Anakin. Not like you and Master Kenobi. I've always wondered what it would be like."
"It's strange," you reply slowly. You shrug and give her a rueful smile. "It’s been this way for so long, and I just...I don't know. I don't know what it's like not to have it. The closest we ever came to losing it completely was after..."
You trail off, your smile fading, and you turn away, unable to meet her eyes. "After the Naboo incident. Things were never the same, after that."
Ahsoka doesn't say anything.
You can't blame her. You don't have the words. There's so much left unsaid, so much you could tell her, but you know you won't. It's not the right time. Perhaps it will never be the right time. And so, instead, you change the subject, pushing the pain and the regret away, burying it under the weight of a smile.
"What else do you want to know?"
Ahsoka's gaze grows thoughtful, and she leans back, resting her head against the wall, her brow furrowed. She looks up, and her lips purse, her fingers tapping against her thighs.
Finally, she smiles, a wicked glint in her eyes. "What about Rex?"
Your eyes widen, and you can feel the color draining from your face, the shock making you speechless. You hadn't expected that question, and it takes a moment for you to regain your composure, your mind scrambling to think of a response. But Ahsoka doesn't wait.
Instead, she keeps talking, the grin growing. "Rex told Anakin that you had saved his life."
"Yes," you say cautiously. You frown, and you cross your arms, raising an eyebrow. "And?"
"Well," she draws the word out, and she sits up, her elbows on her knees, her hands clasped. "Anakin said he'd never seen you act like that before."
You open your mouth to respond, and then close it, unsure of what to say.
"So," she presses. "Are you?"
"Am I what?"
"Friends."
"Yes," you snap. "Of course we're friends. He's a friend. We're friends. Is that a problem?"
"No, no," she replies quickly. "Of course not."
"Good."
"But—"
"Ahsoka," you interrupt, and you let out a sharp breath, your fingers rubbing your temples. "There is no but. Rex is a friend. I saved his life. End of story."
"Sure," she agrees. Her expression is far too innocent, and you're not going to play into whatever she's thinking. You stand and return to the table, picking up the book, and Ahsoka follows, sitting down next to you. "I just thought, maybe, there was something else."
"Like what?"
"Oh, I don't know," she says, feigning nonchalance. She pulls another book off the pile and begins leafing through the pages, a casual, carefree tone to her voice. "He's been asking about you."
Your head snaps up, and you stare at her, the shock giving way to surprise, and then hope, the flutter in your chest returning. "He has?"
Realizing your mistake, you bite your cheek and look back down at the book, your heart pounding, and your throat suddenly dry. You swallow, and you try to ignore the heat rising in your cheeks,and the feeling in your chest.
Rex had been asking about you. He had talked to Anakin about you. Those were perfectly normal, innocent, things for him to do. Nothing strange. Nothing to indicate anything more.
"Mmhmm," Ahsoka hums, her eyes flicking up, a hint of a smirk tugging at her lips. She looks back down, the grin growing, and she nudges your shoulder. "He was worried the Council was going to punish you for saving him."
"That's it?"
"I'm not sure," she muses. She tilts her head, her fingers drumming against the book, her expression thoughtful. "He seemed pretty concerned. More than he normally is."
You shake your head and lean forward, pretending to be engrossed in the text.
"I'm sure he was just being polite," you mumble. You keep your eyes on the page, but your mind is elsewhere, and the words blur before your eyes. You force yourself to keep reading, not daring to look up. "I doubt he was all that worried."
"Hm," Ahsoka says.
You wait a few more moments, and then, when Ahsoka doesn't speak, you glance over at her. She's looking at you, her lips pursed, a knowing smile on her face. You stare at her, and she stares back, and finally, you roll your eyes, letting out a sigh.
"Fine," you grumble. You shut the book and shove it away, leaning back in the chair, your arms crossed. "We are friends, and I enjoy his company. Is that what you want to hear?"
Ahsoka shrugs and grins, and you can't help the smile tugging at your lips.
"He's a good person," she says. She's not looking at you anymore, but she's smiling, and you can tell she's holding back a laugh. "Very loyal."
"Yes, he is," you agree. You look away, a frown forming, and your voice drops. "And a good soldier."
There's a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach, a heaviness, a sudden sadness that you hadn't expected. You're not sure what brought it on, but it's there, a reminder of the truth, of the reality. You swallow the lump in your throat, and you glance down, your fingers tracing the cover of the book, a strange numbness settling in.
"Yeah." Ahsoka looks at you, and her brow furrows, the teasing tone gone. "Is everything okay?"
"Yeah," you lie. You force a smile and shrug. "Everything's fine."
"You're sure?" she asks. She looks skeptical, her head tilted, and she frowns. "You look...upset."
"I'm not."
"You don't have to lie," she says. She shifts in her chair, and she turns to face you, her hand resting on your arm, her expression earnest. "If there's something wrong, you can tell me. I won't judge."
"I know," you reply softly. "But there's nothing to tell. I'm fine."
She doesn't believe you. You can tell by the way she's looking at you, her eyes narrowed, and her lips pursed. Ahsoka doesn't press the issue, though, and you're grateful for that. You don't want to talk about it, and, honestly, you're not sure if you can. Or, if, when the words come out, they'll sound as stupid as they do in your head.
"Now," you say, and you push yourself up, grabbing a crate. You walk over to the other side of the room and begin sorting through the books, setting them on the shelves. "Let's get back to work."
"Ugh, not more sorting."
"It's your punishment," you point out. "Besides, I've had enough excitement for one day. I could use some boring, manual labor."
"I guess," Ahsoka mutters.
You laugh, and you return to your task, the quiet settling over the room. Ahsoka sighs and does the same, and the two of you spend the rest of the afternoon in silence, only occasionally exchanging a few words.
The sun begins to set, and the shadows grow, and soon, the entire room is bathed in the orange glow of the sunset, the warmth filling the air. It's peaceful, and comfortable, and it's exactly what you need. No drama. No complications. No one trying to get into your head, or telling you how to live your life. It's the kind of solitude you haven't had in a long time, and, even if you can't enjoy it for long, it's a nice respite from the chaos.
You're not sure how much time has passed, or how long the two of you have been working, but the silence is broken when the door slides open. You turn and watch as Obi-Wan enters the room, a smile on his face, his hands tucked in his sleeves. He greets the both of you and comes to stand beside the table, his attention focused on you. His expression is serious, his eyes searching, and you avoid his gaze.
"I hope I'm not interrupting," he says, his voice polite, and his words carefully chosen. You can tell he's uncomfortable, and it makes you uneasy. "I was hoping I might have a word with you, if you're not too busy."
"Of course," you reply.
You look over at Ahsoka, who’s staring at the two of you, her gaze flicking between you, and she smirks, standing and grabbing the crate she had been organizing. "I'll give you some privacy."
"Thank you."
She leaves the room, leaving you and Obi-Wan alone, the quiet a heavy, uncomfortable, thing. You don't know what to say, or what to do, and it's an awkward few moments before he breaks the silence, clearing his throat, his hands moving to clasp behind his back.
"I was wondering how you were," he says. He takes a step toward you, and he hesitates, his eyes dropping. "I haven't seen much of you these past few days."
"Yes," you mumble. You cross your arms and shrug, avoiding his gaze. "I've been, um, busy. You know. Helping with the Archives. And healing."
"I see."
There's another pause.
"So," he says. "Are you feeling better? Has the Healers Ward released you yet?"
"They released me a few days ago," you tell him as you turn, walking over to the window, your fingers brushing along the ledge. "They were quite happy with my recovery. It didn't take long for me to heal."
"That's good."
"And, I feel fine," you add, turning to look at him. "I've been back in training for a few days now."
"Good."
"Good."
"Well," he says. He steps forward and stops, his hand on the back of a chair, his expression guarded. "I'm glad you're back on your feet."
"Yes," you murmur. "It's, uh, it's good to be back."
He gives you a curt nod, and you nod back, and then there's another long, agonizing, silence. You look at him, and he looks at you, and when it becomes too much, you turn away, your fingers tracing the window frame, the metal cool beneath your fingertips.
"You said you wanted to speak with me?" you ask the window.
"Yes."
You hear him take a deep breath, and when you look over your shoulder, he's staring at the floor, his brow furrowed, his jaw clenched. It's strange to see him so...distraught. So unsure of himself.
"I came to apologize," he says quietly. He crosses his arms, his eyes flicking up to meet yours. "For my actions the other day. I was not myself, and I should not have acted as I did."
"Oh," you murmur.
"I was...wrong to have treated you as I did. You didn't deserve it. And I was out of line."
You let out a sigh and close your eyes. "Obi-Wan..."
"Please," he interrupts, and his tone is pleading, and it stops you. "I need to say this."
"Alright," you say. You move away from the window, and you lean against the table, your arms crossed and your brow furrowed. "Say what you need to."
"I was angry," he admits, and the words hang in the air, heavy and sharp. He pauses and takes a breath, and you can tell he's choosing his words carefully. "I was upset. You have no idea how much it hurt, seeing you like that. Lying there, unconscious. Not knowing if you would make it. I..."
He trails off, and he looks away, his lips pressed into a thin line.
"And I know," he continues. He looks back up, his eyes meeting yours, and you can't help but see the pain, the hurt, the desperation. "I know that you would do it again, if given the choice. And I can't blame you for it. But it doesn't make it any easier."
"Obi-Wan," you murmur. You can feel your eyes burning, and you swallow the sudden lump in your throat. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..."
"I know," he says. "I know."
"I wasn't thinking. I was acting on instinct, and—"
"I know," he repeats, his voice gentle. "It was not your fault. You did what was right, and, had it been anyone else, I would have been proud. You saved a life. That is something to be celebrated. But...you're not just anyone."
"I can't promise that I won't do it again," you tell him. "If the situation arises, I won't hesitate to save another soldier. Even if they're not a Jedi. Or a friend."
He smiles, a small, sad thing, and he nods.
"I wouldn't expect any less," he says. He steps toward you, and he takes your hand, squeezing gently. "It is, after all, one of the many reasons I admire you."
You can't help the smirk tugging at your lips. "Well, that, and dazzling personality and my good looks, right?"
"Among others," he teases. His expression grows solemn, and he glances down, his thumb running over your knuckles. "I'm sorry. For everything. I'm sure the last thing you need is for me to be acting as I was."
"Well, with the amount of tantrums Anakin and I have thrown over the years, it's only fair that you get to have one every once in a while."
Obi-Wan grimaces and shakes his head "Please, don't remind me."
"You're not still mad, are you?" you ask. He tilts his head, a faint frown pulling at his lips. "I mean, you're not going to lecture me again, are you?"
"No," he replies, his tone wry. "Not today."
"Good."
"You're not completely forgiven, though."
"What?"
"I'm afraid that, if we're ever in a similar situation," he continues, his voice casual, his eyes narrowing, "and if you ever make me think you're dying again, I will be forced to have a very stern conversation with you."
You roll your eyes. "Obi-Wan..."
"I mean it," he insists. "I'll have no choice."
"Well," you drawl. You pull your hand free and push yourself away from the table, crossing your arms. "If I die, and you feel the need to lecture my corpse, by all means, go right ahead. I won't stop you."
He gives you a flat look, and you hold back a smile, raising an eyebrow.
"We'll see," he says finally. His lips twitch, and he sighs, rubbing his forehead. "In all seriousness, though, I am sorry. For everything. I was unfair, and I shouldn't have blamed you. I shouldn't have taken out my anger on you."
"No," you agree softly. "You shouldn't have."
"I know," he sighs. He runs a hand through his hair and takes a step closer to you, his hand reaching out to grasp your elbow, his touch gentle. "I don't want us to be like this. We've fought enough over the years. I want you to know that I trust you, and despite my fears, and the concerns I have, I will always support you. Whatever decisions you make."
You let out a breath, and his hand moves, sliding up your arm, coming to rest on the back of your neck. He gives you a smile, and there's a flicker of regret and sorrow before he pulls you forward, his forehead resting against yours. His grip tightens, and you put your hands on his waist, holding onto him.
"Thank you," you whisper.
"I'll always be here for you," he says softly. "Whenever you need me."
You smile and lift your chin, brushing your lips across his cheek, a fleeting, brief, touch. "And I'll always be here for you. Whatever you need."
He chuckles and squeezes your neck, his breath warm on your skin. "I appreciate the sentiment."
"Now," you murmur, and you pull away, your hands moving to rest on his chest. "What I really need right now is a stiff drink."
He raises an eyebrow. "That is not what you need right now."
"But it would help," you insist. "A lot."
"No."
"C'mon," you beg, your hands curling in the fabric of his tunic. You give him a pout, and he groans, his eyes closing. "It'll be fun. Just like old times."
"You are not getting me into any more trouble than I'm already in," he says. He pulls your hands off of him, and he holds them in his, a stern look on his face. "The Council has already spoken to me about your reckless behavior. I'd prefer not to give them more reason to doubt me."
"They won't know," you promise. You squeeze his hands, your eyes bright. "We'll be careful."
"You don't know how to be careful."
"Then teach me," you counter, a smirk playing on your lips.
He lets out a sigh, and his brow furrows, his mouth twisting. You can see the temptation in his eyes, the desire to give in, and it's only a matter of time before you convince him. He hesitates, glancing over at the door. "It is late. Most people should be gone by now."
"See?" you say. "Easy. Quick drink. No one will see."
"Fine," he concedes. "But we will not be staying long."
"Thank you."
You release his hands and step back, your fingers lacing together, your grin widening. Obi-Wan gives you an exasperated look and gestures for you to go, and you laugh and start to back away.
"I'll meet you at the usual place," you tell him. You turn and head for the door, calling over your shoulder. "Don't keep me waiting."
"Wouldn't dream of it!" he calls out, his tone amused. "Just...don't get us caught."
"Never," you promise.
You're through the door and gone before he can say anything else, and the moment you're alone, you take a deep breath and run a hand through your hair. It's not until you're nearly to your quarters that the nerves begin to settle in, and the excitement gives way to apprehension, a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach.
You're still a bit wary of Obi-Wan's sudden change in mood. It's unlike him to act like he did, and to be so openly hostile. And, as much as you'd like to believe that everything is alright, that things were fine, there was still something gnawing at the back of your mind.
The look on his face when you told him how you saved Rex's life was burned into your memory. You couldn't help but be reminded of how he looked at you the day after your knighting, when you'd told him your plan to find Yaddle's killer, and he'd treated you like a child.
It was the same, the same disdain and anger, the same look of disappointment, and the same, cold, distance. The only difference was, this time, you hadn't done anything wrong. You had saved a life. There was nothing for him to be disappointed about.
But the look was there, the same unspoken accusation. And it stung.
It’s only then that you realize he’d neglected to let his walls down during the conversation. There had been no opening, no chance to see into his mind. No moment of vulnerability. You hadn’t noticed, and now, you couldn’t understand why. It didn't make sense.
Obi-Wan had never kept his thoughts and feelings hidden from you before. He had never been afraid to show his emotions, or his pain. It was always you who'd had trouble with it, who'd struggled with letting him see the truth. He was the one who always opened up.
And now, he wasn't.
You shake the thought from your mind and continue on, ignoring the unease growing in your chest. He'd apologized then, and he apologized now, and he meant it. You didn't need the Force to know that. And he'd agreed to sneak out with you, which was more than he would have done if he was truly upset with you.
You would have a nice evening, and nothing else would happen. And tomorrow, the two of you would move on. Everything would go back to normal.
You reach your quarters, and you let yourself in, making a beeline for the fresher. You don't waste any time and strip out of your robes, stepping under the hot spray, and you wash quickly, rinsing the day's grime and sweat off. The water cascades down your body, washing the tension away, the warmth enveloping you, and for the first time in days, you can breathe, the knot in your chest loosening.
Once you're finished, you dry yourself and step back into the room, rummaging through the pile of clothes haphazardly thrown in your dresser. You pull out a simple shirt and a pair of pants, and you dress, slipping on a pair of boots and a cropped leather jacket. It's been too long since you've dressed so casually, and it feels odd, like you're not yourself. But, it's also a refreshing change from stifling robes.
You comb your hair, pulling the wet strands back into a loose braid, and you're ready. You check the time and grab a few credits from the dresser, shoving them into your pocket, and you're out the door.
You arrive at the bar a short while later, and you spot Obi-Wan sitting in the corner, a glass in his hand and his attention on the crowd. He sees you and smiles, and you make your way through the room, the noise and the heat hitting you. He's wearing civilian clothes, his hair loose around his face, his beard trimmed, and he looks almost relaxed. Almost.
You reach the table and slide into the seat across from him, his gaze appraising. You can't help but blush, and you cross your arms, giving him a look.
"What?" you ask.
"Nothing," he replies. His eyes linger on yours for a moment longer, and then they trail over the rest of your body, his lips quirking. "It's just been a while since I've seen you like this. It's...refreshing."
"Well," you say, leaning forward. You lower your voice, a playful smirk tugging at your lips. "I wouldn't want to draw any attention to myself."
He chuckles, and his eyes sparkle with amusement, a glint of something else in their depths. "I appreciate the effort."
You smile and reach over, plucking his glass from his hand. He doesn't protest, and you take a sip, the liquor burning as it goes down. You set the glass back on the table, and his gaze lingers, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. You raise an eyebrow and stare at him, and he shakes his head, pushing himself up.
"I'm going to get another drink," he says. He nods his head towards the bar. "Would you like one?"
"Yes, please."
"I'll be right back."
He leaves, and you watch him walk away, and the moment he's out of earshot, you groan, the realization of what you'd done, and where you were, setting in. It was bad enough that the two of you had snuck off to a cantina together, and were dressed like this, but it was even worse that it felt...odd. Strange. And you weren't sure why. It was the same as every other time you'd met him for drinks, and yet, it wasn't.
There was something different. Something...off. You couldn't quite put your finger on it, but it was there, and it made you uneasy. Like the calm before a storm.
"Hey," someone says.
You turn and see a man standing next to the table, a bottle of something in his hand, his smile friendly. You can't help the sigh that escapes you. It was going to be one of those nights.
"Hey," you reply. Your eyes drop, and you frown, the words on the bottle blurring. It's some sort of liquor, and a cheap one at that. "What are you doing here?"
"Well, I'm hoping I could buy a beautiful woman a drink," he says. He sets the bottle down and pulls out the chair, sitting. You glance around the room, looking for Obi-Wan. There's no sign of him. "And, maybe, have a chat. Get to know each other."
"Look," you begin, and your voice is strained, the exhaustion starting to creep in. "I appreciate the offer, but I'm not—"
"C'mon," he insists. He grabs the bottle and opens it, pouring a shot. He pushes it towards you, a grin on his face. "Just one drink."
"No, thank you."
“You won’t regret it.”
“No.”
"One drink," he repeats. He lifts the glass and nods, and when you don't move, his smile fades. "Don't be rude."
"Oh, I'm being rude?" you snap. You stand, and you tower over him, your hand on the table. He stares up at you, his mouth hanging open. "I've had a long week, and I'm not in the mood. Now, leave me alone."
"Alright, alright," he mutters. He stands and picks up the bottle, backing away. "You don't have to get so upset."
You don't reply, and he turns and walks away, disappearing into the crowd. You let out a breath and slump back into the chair, rubbing your forehead. It's not long before you're joined again, but this time, it's Obi-Wan who slides into the seat, a bottle and two glasses in his hand. He notices the look on your face, and he raises an eyebrow.
"Another admirer?"
"Yes," you mutter. You take the glass he offers and down it, and he stares at you, concern flickering across his features. "I guess I'm not used to the attention anymore."
"Hm," he hums. He takes the glass from you and refills it, his brow furrowing. "You shouldn't be out here like this. You're too..."
"What?"
"I just..." he sighs and runs a hand through his hair. He looks down and frowns. "I worry."
"Obi-Wan, I'm not made of glass," you snap. "And I'm not some defenseless child. I'm not going to shatter because some idiot tries to hit on me."
"That's not what I meant."
"Then what did you mean?"
He looks at you, and he sighs, his eyes searching yours. He opens his mouth to speak, and you brace yourself for whatever he's going to say, knowing that it's going to be a lecture, or a reminder of why you shouldn't be out here. Of why you shouldn't be with him. That it's not safe. That it's a risk.
But, he doesn't say any of those things. Instead, his eyes drop, and his jaw clenches, and when he finally speaks, it's a whisper, the words soft and gentle.
"You're a beautiful woman. A powerful, intelligent, wonderful, woman," he says. He looks at you, his expression open, and you can't help the way your heart leaps into your throat. "You have an air of confidence and determination, and...you're breathtaking. It's impossible not to notice you. Especially here."
You gape at him, and his lips twitch, his eyes darkening, a hint of mischief in his gaze. "I can't blame him for trying. I would, too, if I were him."
You can feel the heat spreading across your cheeks, the flush creeping up your neck. He's always been honest with you, and open, but this is different. He's never said anything like this before. You feel yourself scrambling, trying to regain your composure, and when you do, you let out a shaky laugh.
"Obi-Wan Kenobi," you say. You lean forward, your arms resting on the table, a smirk playing on your lips. "Is that jealousy I hear?"
"Not at all," he assures you, and the sincerity is almost believable. He leans closer, and his gaze drops, his voice low. "If anyone is jealous, it's him. He'll never have you. Not the way I do."
Your smirk widens, and you laugh, taking the bottle from his hand and pouring another shot. "Well, you have nothing to worry about. I'm here with you, aren't I?"
"Yes, you are."
You hold his gaze, and you down the shot, the alcohol burning. It's a dangerous game, and the both of you know it, and, as much as you want to keep pushing, and prodding, and testing his limits, you know better. It's best to let it go. It's best to move on. Besides, this was supposed to be fun.
"So," you say, pushing the bottle away, a small smile on your face. "Now that you're done worrying about me, can we finally have some fun? I didn't come here to sit and mope."
"Of course." He raises his glass and tilts his head. "To us."
"To us."
The rest of the evening is a blur. It passes in a haze of alcohol and laughter, the conversation turning to trivial things. There's no mention of the war, or Felucia, or the Council, and you're glad. You need a night off, and a break from everything, and you know Obi-Wan does too. The two of you have had so few chances to relax, and even fewer to spend time together.
You find yourselves falling back into the routine of years past, and, as the evening wears on, the two of you become more and more carefree. You're laughing and teasing, and Obi-Wan's telling stories about his adventures as a young padawan, and your memories of the past come flooding back. The times the two of you have snuck off, and the things you've done, and the trouble you've gotten into. And it's nice. Comforting. To be with him, and to enjoy his company. Even if you know it can't last.
You've managed to drag Obi-Wan out onto the balcony, and the two of you are leaning against the railing, watching the people below, the wind ruffling your hair. You can feel his warmth, and his arm is pressing into yours, and the alcohol has left a pleasant buzz in your head. You're not quite drunk, but, judging by the flush in Obi-Wan's cheeks, he's further along than you are.
"I have a confession," he mutters. You raise an eyebrow, and he gives you a crooked smile. "I've missed this. Missed...us. Doing this. Being here."
"Yeah," you murmur. You glance at him, and he meets your gaze, his eyes bright. "I've missed this too."
"We should do it more often," he says. He reaches over and brushes a strand of hair from your cheek, his touch lingering, his thumb stroking your skin. "Spend time together. Outside the Temple."
"Obi-Wan."
"What?"
"Don't do this."
"I'm not doing anything," he counters. He turns to face you, his expression earnest, his voice soft. "I'm not saying that we should be together. Or that we should..." He trails off, and his eyes flick down, a flicker of hesitation crossing his features. "But, I've missed this. And, I think you have too."
"Obi-Wan..." You let out a breath and run a hand through your hair, the words slipping out before you can stop them. "What's wrong with you?"
"What do you mean?"
"You're...different," you explain. You shrug and turn away, looking out over the city. "It's not just tonight. You've been acting strange for weeks. Ever since Felucia. I just..." You shake your head sigh, glancing over at him. "Are you sure you're alright? That everything is okay?"
"Yes," he replies, and the reply is quick, and curt, and too easy. You stare at him, and he shrugs, a frown tugging at his lips. "I'm fine."
"Are you?"
"Why wouldn't I be?"
"You tell me," you snap. You turn and lean against the railing, crossing your arms, your glare hard. "Because, one minute, you're angry with me, and the next, you're...this. Tell me what's going on."
He holds your gaze for a moment, and then his eyes drop, his hand coming up to cover his face as a low groan escapes him.
"I don't know," he mutters. He takes a step closer and leans against the railing, his arm brushing against yours. "I don't know what's wrong with me."
"Obi-Wan..."
"I'm tired," he whispers. He looks over at you, his eyes sad, his voice hollow. "I'm tired of the war. I'm tired of the fighting. I'm tired of losing people. And...I'm tired of having to pretend."
"Pretend what?"
"Everything," he answers. His hand drops to the railing, his fingers curling around the metal, his grip tight. "Who I am. How I feel. What I'm thinking. What I want." He turns and looks at you, his eyes meeting yours, a flicker of emotion crossing his features. "What I want with you."
"And, how do you feel?" you ask softly. "What do you want with me?"
He swallows and turns away, his eyes focused on the skyline, and you can see the struggle in his face. He doesn't speak, and the silence grows heavy, and uncomfortable, and you let out a frustrated sigh.
"Obi-Wan—"
"I care for you. I have always cared for you. More than I should. More than is right."
He turns to face you, and there's a desperation in his eyes, and a longing, and you know where this is going. You know what he wants to say.
But, he doesn't. Instead, he sighs, his shoulders slumping, and he shakes his head.
"You mean the world to me, and I don't want to lose you."
"You're not going to lose me."
"You don't know that," he insists. He takes a step closer, and his hands are on your waist, his touch light, his gaze searching yours. "I'm not the only one who has changed."
"What are you talking about?"
"You're different, too," he says. His hands move, and they slide up your back, his thumbs brushing along your cheek. "The last few months have changed you. And I'm afraid of what will happen. What will change."
"Nothing's going to change," you promise, and your voice is low, and soft. "We're the same. We're just older. And wiser. And maybe a little more jaded. But, we're still the same. You're still the same man who was my first love, and I'm still the same girl who fell for him."
He smiles, a small, sad, thing, and he lets out a breath, his forehead resting against yours. Your eyes close, and your hands move to his chest, the fabric warm and soft beneath your fingers, his heart beating steadily beneath your palm.
The tension in his body melts away, and his touch is gentle, his thumb stroking your cheek. You can't help but press closer, his arms wrapping around you, holding you tight.
"I don't know what I would do without you," he murmurs. He lets out a shaky breath, and you can feel him trembling, the weight of the world, the pain and the fear, bearing down on him. "If anything happened to you, if I lost you..."
"You're not going to lose me," you repeat. You reach up and cup his cheek, your thumb running over his stubble, his beard rough against your skin. "I promise."
Obi-Wan doesn't say anything. Instead, he lets out a quiet, strangled, noise, and his lips are on yours, soft and warm and familiar.
It's a desperate, needy, kiss, and it's all too easy to give in, to let yourself melt into him, his hands on your face and his mouth moving against yours. You haven't been kissed in years, and you haven't kissed him in even longer, and, despite your best efforts, you can't help but respond, your fingers sliding through his hair, a low moan escaping you.
His grip tightens, and his tongue is in your mouth, his body pressing against yours. You can't think, and you can't breathe, and you can feel his need, his desire, the emotions, raw and unguarded, spilling over. He's shaking, and his lips are insistent, and when he pulls back, his breathing is ragged, his eyes dark.
The two of you stare at each other, the silence stretching between you, and the gravity of the situation hits you. You've been friends for years, and you've been lovers, and now, here you are, on the precipice, and you're teetering on the edge. One more step, and there's no going back. One more step, and everything will change.
A sinking stone settles in the pit of your stomach, the fog of alcohol fleeing, and a wave of regret and shame crashing down. You can't believe what you've done. How far you've fallen. And how easily. After all the years you've spent avoiding each other, and trying to be friends, and now, here you are.
"We shouldn't have done that," you whisper. You push him away and take a step back, and he reaches out, his hand on your elbow. "We shouldn't be doing this."
"You're right," he says. His hand falls, and he looks away, a frown tugging at his lips. "We shouldn't have."
Obi-Wan runs a hand through his hair, his eyes closing, and he lets out a long breath. When he looks at you again, the guilt and the sadness in his eyes is gone, replaced by resignation. He reaches over and gives your shoulder a squeeze, his tone gentle. "Come on, let's go home."
You nod, and he releases you, stepping back. You can't meet his gaze, and you turn, your eyes fixed on the ground, the two of you making your way across the balcony. He keeps his distance, and you keep yours, the silence between you tense and heavy.
You're both back in the Temple a short while later, and Obi-Wan leads you back to your room, his pace quick. He stops outside the door, and his eyes meet yours.
“Will you be alright?” he asks, his brows furrowed.
“Yes,” you mutter. You can't meet his gaze, and you fidget, your eyes on the floor.
He sighs and lifts your chin, forcing you to look at him.
"Look," he says softly. "I'm sorry."
"So am I," you say. "I...shouldn't have let that happen."
"It's not your fault," he assures you. His thumb brushes across your cheek, and he gives you a smile. "We both let it get out of hand."
"Still, we shouldn't have..."
"No," he agrees. His hand falls, and he steps back, his smile turning wry. "We definitely shouldn't have."
You manage a weak smile, and his eyes soften.
"I meant to say this before," he starts. "I didn't want to interrupt the moment. But, I meant it."
"Meant what?"
"What I said earlier," he clarifies. He clears his throat and looks down, his gaze fixed on his shoes, his words hesitant. "I...don't want to lose you. I don't think I could bear it. And...I'll do everything I can to make sure that doesn't happen."
"You're not going to lose me," you promise. You smile and grab his hand, squeezing his fingers, your voice soft. "I'll always be here."
He squeezes back, his eyes soft. "I know you're still struggling with Master Yaddle's death, and everything that's happened, and, well, I'm here. It's not much, but my clearance can help. If there's something you need, if there's something that would aid you in your search, let me know. I'm not going to ask questions. Just...if there's anything that can give you closure, I'll get it for you."
"I appreciate the offer," you reply. "But, I don't think the Council would take too kindly to you helping me. Especially after what happened. They're probably going to be watching us both like hawks for a while."
"Right." He sighs.
"However," you continue. "I'd appreciate it if you could pull any records regarding the last few months she was alive. Missions. Debriefings. Anything."
"Consider it done," he promises.
"Thank you."
"Of course," he says. "Anything else?"
"Actually, yes," you say. "There is something else."
"Yes?"
You step forward and wrap your arms around him, hugging him, and he hugs you back, his cheek resting against your head. You hold him close, breathing in his scent, his warmth surrounding you, his arms tight around your waist. There's so much you want to say, and so many things you want to tell him, but none of it feels right. Not after what's happened, and the choices the two of you have made. And, for a moment, you just let yourself be, his heartbeat steady against your cheek, the rise and fall of his chest calming.
"I love you, you know that, right?" you say quietly as you pull away.
He chuckles and brushes a stray hair from your forehead. "Yes, I do."
"Good." You step back and turn toward your door, looking over your shoulder at him. "Now, go. Get some sleep."
"You too," he says, his lips quirking. You can't help but return his smile, and he turns, heading for his room. He glances over his shoulder, and he winks. "Good night, darling."
"Good night," you call out.
He vanishes around the corner, and you turn and open the door, stepping into your room. The door slides shut, and you're greeted by the empty, familiar, sight of your quarters. The walls are bare, the windows are uncovered, and the floors are cold. It's not a welcoming space, and it never has been, but tonight, the silence feels particularly loud. You're used to being alone, but, right now, the loneliness is almost overwhelming.
You're not sure why.
Or, perhaps, you don't want to admit why.
Either way, the ache in your chest is still there, the emptiness still lingers, and you know it's not just from the alcohol. You try to ignore the feeling, and instead you settle on the floor to meditate, focusing on the Force and letting the energy flow through you.
It doesn't work, and you know it won't. But, you have to try. The alternative is too much to bear. You sit for a few hours, your eyes closed, and your hands resting on your knees, until, eventually, sleep pulls you under.
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