#wow im so diplomatic i should be a politician

[quarterprioritymidnight]

your favorite version/era of Dan… go! (also what do you want for his next one?)

I think his blond hair was hot, but idk whatever he wants to do next should be his next era he always slays

[stonefreeak]

I LOVE the chancellor Obi-Wan series! I reread it all the time because tortured Obi-Wan is great, but his personal hell of becoming a politician while preventing everything is even better. But that last line, wow. Why do I get the feeling the assassination is going to happen while Skyguy and Snips are away? But would that mean that Obi Wan gets to show off all his amazing jedi moves in front of the Senate? And remind them he's The Negotiator but also a superb fighter???

Anonymous said:Im suddenly thinking of imprompto skydiving when the next assasionation attempt goes off in Bail’s office. Unless it is poision or toxic chemicals.

Anonymous said:So, SC Obi has had two attempts on his life so far? Only two? No others getting caught before they get to Obi? One of Palps assassin plans interrupted by some other opportunist who fails miserably (and then more Palp-is-suffering?) Or frustration on the investegators parts at these unrelated to the first two attempts?

I wouldn’t think that two assassination attempts warrants an “only”, considering what a short time Obi-Wan has been in power. It is, in fact, a huge amount of attempts. After all, a lot of political leaders have gone their entire careers without a single assassination attempt. ;)

So here we are! An update! Finally! Assassination attempt #3!

I’ve had the text finished-ish for some time, but I’ve been editing and editing and editing until I now. Shout-out to my girl @dendral for looking it over so I could stop banging my head against it! 

This ficlet ended at a whooping 5.7k, so hopefully it will feel worth the wait.

WARNING: this story contains the aftermath of an explosion, as such there will be some descriptions of injuries caused by it, mentions of death, as well as the contemplation of death and dying. 

If there’s anything you think i missed in my warning, I’m sorry, just let me know and I’ll fix it.

Here we go!

Obi-Wan thinks back to the previous night. He slept well, knowing that Master Yoda was watching over him, though he cannot help the feeling of shame that washes over him. He shouldn’t need Master Yoda’s help like this. He’s dealt with his prescience since he was a child, he should be used to it by now.

He tries to accept the feeling and let it go. He knows that Master Yoda would likely smack his shin with the gimer stick and say something about there being no shame in needing help, and how asking for it shows greater wisdom than breaking your back trying to carry all burdens on your own.

The thought almost makes him feel a phantom ache in his shin, and he smiles. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Obi-Wan turns back to the matter at hand.

The feeling of ever approaching danger has yet to leave. Which means that whatever it is he’s being warned about, it has yet to happen. He stares at his planner and frowns slightly, tapping a finger softly against his desk. It’s difficult, to say the least, to plan for something when you don’t know what that something is.

Perhaps he should bring some troopers with him when he leaves his office for today’s meetings. Having a few extra pair of eyes to search for danger would be beneficial. Not to mention that should something happen, having them around could very well help save lives.

A meeting with Senators Biwa, Himesh, Chuchi, and acting Vice-Chancellor Ha’han-ash regarding a treaty between Cyllian III and Illi-hian starting ninth hour and set to end thirty minutes before lunch at twelfth hour. At thirteenth hour his meeting with Bail Organa regarding the a bill concerning the relocation of war refugees will start.

Obi-Wan rubs his beard and considers his predicament again. He cannot bring all his troopers. Some must remain to guard his offices, he has too many important documents and notes in them to risk leaving them unattended. Besides, bringing too many guards could be taken as an insult; the Senators could see it as Obi-Wan implying that they’re untrustworthy.

Any other day, Obi-Wan would go to the meeting alone; he hasn’t been bringing guards to meetings where he doesn’t leave the upper floors of the Senate office building, but with the way the Force is—constantly sending out warning signals…

Well. Obi-Wan simply cannot risk it. He’s not one to play fast and loose with people’s lives. Not to mention the potential for political fallout from accidental perceived slights or favouritism…

Obi-Wan shakes his head again. He’ll bring Waxer and Boil with him for the day, the rest of the troopers will stay in the guard room and make sure no one gets into the office.

Decision made, Obi-Wan glances to the clock again, nodding to himself. He’ll have to leave soon unless he wants to arrive late, which means discussing his plans with the men immediately.

He puts his planner down and gets to his feet. Politics wait for no man.

~~~~

Obi-Wan glances at the clock discreetly. The meeting was supposed to end thirty minutes before lunch hour, but now it is already fifteen minutes past lunch hour. Senator Biwa has gone over the set meeting time by almost forty-five minutes already. Lunch hour has started and if Obi-Wan wants to have time to eat anything besides rations bar from his office before his next meeting, this one must wrap up quickly.

“All in all, I think it’s clear that Cyllian III has broken the treaty with Illi-hian and as Senator of Illi-hian I cannot allow it to stand. I’m sure you understand, Chancellor,” Senator Biwa says, his nasal voice picking up a few octaves toward the end of the sentence.

“I understand your position, Senator, and I appreciate that you called for a private meeting with a few neutral parties present—including myself—before you brought this before the Senate as a whole,” Obi-Wan says smoothly. If he wants this meeting to end, he will need to play his cards right. “At the same time, I also understand Senator Himesh’s position, and I believe that further investigation into the treaty and the situation is warranted before any decisions are made.”

Senator Chuchi nods her head. “I much agree with Chancellor Kenobi.” She casts a glance toward the other senators before she continues, “And I’m very pleased to see that you are both willing to negotiate and discuss the situation with diplomacy before any drastic measures are taken.”

Her words very much go in line with the sort of person Obi-Wan has come to understand that she is. Her experiences on Orto Plutonia seem to have shaped much of her views regarding battle and diplomacy. A controlled temper and a calm personality. With the timidity she had during that time now gone, she’s grown into her role.

She would likely have made a good Jedi, Obi-Wan thinks to himself with a small smile.

“Agreed,” Senator Ha'han-ash says, tilting her head to the side. “I must ask that this meeting draws to a close now, as I’m afraid it’s already past lunch hour and I will soon have other duties that demands my attention; as, I’m sure, do you all as well.”

Senator Biwa momentarily looks as if he wishes to argue, but finds himself without anything to say. He nods and murmurs an agreement instead. Senator Himesh glances at him, and follows suit.

Obi-Wan looks at Boil and Waxer, standing on each side of his chair, though just one step behind, before he returns his attention to the gathered politicians.

“I must thank you for the meeting, gentlebeings. I will ensure an independent and neutral investigation is conducted, and once it finishes, I will call you all for another meeting.” Obi-Wan smiles blandly at the gathered group.

“Thank you, Chancellor,” Senator Biwa says, “I will leave it in your capable hands.”

Obi-Wan gets to his feet and makes a customary Jedi bow, years of habit from diplomatic missions hard to curb. He may be the person with the greatest power, both physical and political, in this room but it would be truly gauche to remind the others of it.

The Force is all but screaming in Obi-Wan’s head, like warning sirens going off in a failing space ship. It’s a rising crescendo in the back of his mind and soon it becomes almost a physical itch. The sensation as a whole is much as if every passing moment takes him closer and closer to whatever it is the Force has been warning him about—as if he’s a hair’s breadth from impact.

Senator Chuchi and Vice-Chancellor Ha’han-ash step up to him as Senators Biwa and Himesh draw away from the group—away from the meeting table toward Senator Biwa’s personal desk—to discuss something in low voices. Normally, Obi-Wan would be able to listen in on their conversation, but with the constant warnings from the Force and his need to pay attention to other things he finds it too much effort. Not to mention rude.

Senator Chuchi brushing a strand of hair out of her face catches his attention, and he turns his attention to her more fully.

“What is your schedule for the rest of the day, Chancellor?” she says and graces him with a small smile.

“In the immediate, I will have lunch. After lunch hour has passed, I have a meeting with Senator Organa. Said meeting is expected to take up the rest of my afternoon,” he says and smiles in return.

“I see,” she says and pauses briefly before she continues, “I was wondering if, perhaps, you and Vice-Chancellor Ha'han-ash might be willing to join me for lunch?”

Obi-Wan blinks in surprise. Unexpected, but not unpleasant.

“I would be delighted to.” He turns to Ha’han-ash. “What do you say, Vice-Chancellor?”

She inclines her head again, her large horns making the movement seem more exaggerated than it actually is. “I believe that would be a lovely way to pass the lunch hour,” she says and makes her people’s customary gesture of thanks with her left hand—signalling her appreciation of having been invited. “Do lead the way, Senator Chuchi.”

Obi-Wan nods and turns to the other two senators to bid his farewell. “Well then, Senator Himesh, Senator Biwa, we will take our leave first. May the Force be with you,” he says and bows slightly again.

The two nod, bow a bit, and give their own farewells in return. Senator Himesh’s long neck sways slightly—the movement is slightly reminiscent of the Kaminoans.

Kaminoans… Kamino… the Inhibitor Chips… No mention of them beyond that one memo in the databases… as far as he could find… Oh!

The virus! Of course! It was rewriting files when Ellée neutralised it, so who’s to say that it didn’t have time to alter a few other files before she noticed? Which means that there is a possibility of unaltered records in the back-up files, just as there were with the mission reports!

Of course there was something he was missing last night!

He’ll have to contact Ellée for access to one of the backup drives immediately. Senator Chuchi and Vice Chancellor Ha'han-ash won’t begrudge him a single comm. Or perhaps he should—!

The Force screams at Obi-Wan. The ghost sensation of fire washes over him and suddenly he knows.

He flinches backwards, bumping into Boil and Waxer, and gathers the Force around everyone close enough for him to reach in an instant—just before the explosions tear through the room.

~~~~

Riyo Chuchi cries out in pain as she’s thrown across the room and slams straight into the wall, banging her head before she crashes to the floor, her head smashing against it.

Her ears ring and hurt and she feels dizzy. There’s an ache in her arm, there are black spots in her vision, and she wants to scream with the pain. She squeezes her eyes shut and tries to breathe through it, tries to calm down.

What in the Core Worlds happened?

She opens her eyes to take in her surroundings and is met with complete chaos.

There is debris everywhere, something is spewing smoke, and—! Before she can properly catalogue everything there’s a loud crashing sound and she’s moving against her will, rolling down something.

She cries out, her injured arm slamming against the ground with every rotation, before she comes to a stop, smashing into something hard and full of sharp edges.

More rumbling, the sound of a siren, the crackle of fire and then further agony. Her leg is burning and she finally screams.

By the Fates Above, she can barely breathe through the pain as she tries to roll away, tries to move, but the agony is threatening to tear her apart.

Her left arm will not move, but with a surge of adrenaline she moves into a sitting position without using it to support herself.

With the edge of her thick cloak she pats out the fire on her skirt, regardless of the pain each pat against the injured flesh causes.

“Fates preserve me,” she breathes, chest heaving and tears overflowing her eyes.

“There is a fire in sector 23B-42H. All building occupants are requested to leave the building immediately.” The robotic voice from the speakers startles her, muffled and almost drowned out by the ringing in her ears.

She looks away from the terrible sight of her burned leg to take in her surroundings instead.

The burning debris is so hot. She slowly inches away from it further, both to get away from the heat and to avoid breathing in the hot air or the smoke.

Above her is a large hole, though smoke is obscuring most of what is above. The floor of Senator Biwa’s office giving way due to the structural instability caused by the explosion must have been what set her rolling.

Senator Biwa… That’s right, she wasn’t alone. She starts scanning her surroundings more closely, where are the others?

She has to find someone else. She looks around, she can either move to the left, or to the right. She closes her eyes, swallows heavily, and then chooses to go right.

Crawling with an injured leg and a useless arm is harder than Riyo could have ever imagined, but she needs to find someone else. She can’t bear the thought that she might be the only survivor. Not to mention, she wants to get as far away from the source of the fire and the billowing smoke as possible. She knows that if she inhales that hot air…

The ringing in her ears hasn’t let up, but she can still hear other things—the groaning of duracrete and durasteel, the sparking of broken wires, the crackle of fire, the constant repetitive robotic message telling everyone to evacuate the building…

As she moves her left arm hangs uselessly at her side, and she knows that without it she has no chance of climbing back up the piece of flooring she rolled down. No, she needs to find a way out—a door, anything—on this floor level.

That, or someone who can help her.

It likely doesn’t take her long to hear the sound of coughing in front of her, though every moment feels like an eternity. She continues her slow crawl and rounds a corner.

“Vice-Chancellor Ha'han-ash!” she exclaims loudly, flooded with relief at finally seeing another living soul.

Ha'han-ash is sitting against the wall, holding her hands over the lower part of her face, obscuring it from view.

“Senator Chuchi!” Ha'han-ash says, though it comes out slightly muffled by her hands. In the low light, Riyo can see a trickle of blood sliding down her forehead and onto one of her hands.

“Are you… are you terribly injured, Senator?” Riyo asks, crawling closer.

Ha'han-ash shakes her head, but keeps her hands firmly covering the lower half of her face.

“Not as such, no. I think I might have some damaged ribs, possibly some damage to my airways, but my people are hardy and with thick skin.” Her voice as hoarse and strained. “However, I believe the Chancellor must have done… something to lessen the effects of the blast. I saw him flinch and lift his hands just before the explosion occurred.”

Riyo frowns, and tries to think back. Had Chancellor Kenobi moved? She can’t remember. The one thing she does remember, however, is seeing is his face and the sudden pallor on it.

“Perhaps he… sensed something? Through the Force?” She finally manages to arrange herself in a mostly comfortable position, though her leg hurts more than she truly bear. It’s hard to concentrate with the constant smarting. She all but collapses against the wall, letting it hold her weight. “I will admit that I know nothing about how the Force works.”

Senator Ha'han-ash turns her head to the side slightly, the movement looks odd with the way she keeps her hands over her face. Why is she—?

“Your veil!” Riyo speaks her thought as soon as it pops into her head.

“It seems to have gotten lost in the blast, and I have nothing to replace it with unless I tear a bit from my dress. However…” she trails off and won’t meet Riyo’s eyes anymore.

Riyo’s eyebrows knit in confusion and her mouth turn downward, why is Senator Ha'han-ash suddenly not looking at her? She knows she’s covering her face with her hands because her veil is missing but—!

Oh. Of course. If her veil is missing, then she must use something else to cover the lower half of her face in front of others, as is the custom of her people.

“I assume I arrived before you could do so,” Riyo concludes, nodding to herself. “I will look away, and you can tear a bit from my dress, Vice-Chancellor, it’s already ruined,” she offers, before she closes her eyes and turns her face away.

“Thank you, Senator Chuchi.” The words are heartfelt, and Riyo smiles despite the situation at hand.

~~~~

Boil has seen his fair share of explosions as a soldier, but he’s never been actively caught in one before. He’s certain the General did something—since Boil’s not dead—and the only thing he can think of that could possibly allow you to survive being in the middle of an explosion would be some kind of Jedi Force thing.

His armour seems to have shielded him from the worst of it too. Cataloguing his injuries, he knows he’s a little banged up—his elbow is hurting like a fucking gundark has been gnawing on it and something seems to be dribbling out of his left ear—but in a mostly good condition.

Ugh, ear dribble.

He shakes his head to clear it, resolutely ignoring the slight dizziness he feels and starts taking in his surroundings. He needs to find Waxer, the General, and the senators. Any potential health issues can wait until he’s made sure that they aren’t worse off than he is.

The surrounding area is a fucking mess, not that Boil expected anything else considering the explosion. He appears to be on one of the last pieces of floor in his vicinity that hasn’t crumbled down into the room beneath the office. There’s a gaping crater, more or less, with smoke billowing out of it and there are glass shards from the utterly demolished windows everywhere.

He should call for backup and definitely healers too.

He checks his comm. No lights. No response. Fuck. It’s completely fried. The shock wave of the explosion must have taken it out. Boil rubs a hand over his helmet visor and hopes that Waxer’s comm survived.

So. If comming for help is going to have to wait, then the next step is finding survivors and ensuring the General and Waxer’s safety… And the other Senators’ as well, but Boil can acknowledge his priorities in his own head.

Glancing back to where he knew two senators had been standing when the blast rocked the room, he sees two crumbled bodies, one of them half buried in debris.

Shit.

He gets to his feet, knowing he needs to check the bodies first, before he goes down the hole—otherwise he risks not being able to get back up.

He moves slowly, almost like he’s sneaking, as he makes his way over, occasionally testing the floor first, unwilling to risk making more flooring fall and possibly land on someone.

The floor, despite its condition, seems mostly stable. He doesn’t hear any cracking noises or the like. In fact, Boil’s surprised with how quiet everything is. Shouldn’t some sort of alarm system have gone off considering there was an explosion?

Perhaps the alarm system got taken out by whoever planted the bombs?

Shaking his head, Boil decides that speculation will have to wait. Right now he needs to check up on everyone else and comm for help. With a resolute nod to himself, Boil continues on his way to the two bodies.

Senator Himesh—who looked a bit like a cross between a Mon Calamari and a lothcat but with a long neck—is the closest. Half his body is covered beneath the remains of what was probably a desk once.

He isn’t moving. At all. In fact, Boil can’t even see any rise and fall of his chest.

Fuck. Shit. Sithspit. May the waters of Kamino swallow the bomber whole.

Boil removes his left glove and puts his hand around the nose area. No breaths. He presses his fingers to Himesh’s neck instead, looking for a pulse. However, he quickly realises the futility of it as he has no idea where he should be feeling it—he’s not a medic, and he’s certainly never seen anyone of Himesh’s species before—and he decides to test the wrist instead.

No luck. The senator is dead as a Kaminoan seeeel fish on Tatooine.

Boil shakes his head and gets to his feet, tucking his glove into his belt for now, and moves on. There’s nothing to be gained by staying with the dead.

He walks around the desk and heads over to the second slumped body.

Body turns out to be the right word too, because Senator Biwa is definitely dead. There’s blood coming from his nose and ears, and there’s…

Boil gets back to his feet and puts his glove back on, no need to check for a pulse. He might not be a medic, but there’s no way Biwa survived that.

Both bodies confirm Boil’s suspicions about how the General must have used the Force to somehow shield the people who were close to him, because he’s in too good shape compared to these two. He was close enough to the blast that the shock wave should have fucked his lungs up at the very least, but they seem to be just fine.

Shaking his head and sighing, Boil returns to the large hole. He’ll need to get down there to see if he can find someone else. The rest of them should be okay, though—aside from possibly Waxer—not in as good shape as Boil, considering their lack of armour.

Getting down the hole is easy, the floor has collapsed in a way that’s more or less created a slide. It seems to be mostly dark down the hole—was it a storage room without windows beneath Biwa’s office?—at least partly because of the smoke rising from it.

Carefully sliding down the floor piece, Boil wonders if the lights were turned off in the room below or if simply no lights survived the explosion.

He can see a bit of fire, but the smoke is thankfully rising and being swept out the broken windows in the office above—less chance of anyone getting issues with smoke inhalation then.

Reaching the bottom, he looks around; once at the bottom he can see that it’s slightly dim from many broken lights, but not so much that he can’t see—some still work and the fire is pretty much a light source, as are the sparks from broken wires.

Boil finds himself at a crossroad: either he goes left or he goes right, and he has no way of knowing which way would be the most beneficial.

He starts to go to the right, but changes his mind quickly. He’s not sure why, but he feels like he should go left first—maybe the General and his ‘feelings’ have started to rub off on Boil. Turning on his heel swiftly, ignoring the way his elbow smarts and the black spots that appear in his vision from the abrupt movement, Boil sets off to the left—hopefully to find Waxer.

Walking around the huge slabs of duracrete and durasteel, Boil catches sight of Waxer almost immediately. Looks like the Force is with him, as the General would say. It’s also now that Boil realises that his hearing must be out, because Waxer has removed his helmet and is clearly cursing up a storm, but Boil can’t hear it at all.

Shit.

“Waxer!” Boil hurries over and sees quickly why Waxer is cursing: one of his legs is trapped beneath a heavy looking slab of debris.

Waxer turns to him and starts talking, gesturing towards his leg and the mess holding him in place. He’s speaking so swiftly that Boil doesn’t have a chance to read his lips, and wouldn’t even if he’d been trained for it.

“Waxer, Waxer!” Boil has no idea how loudly he’s saying it, but it seems to give Waxer pause. “I can’t hear shit, I think the blast has deafened me.”

Waxer pales, presses his lips together, and nods resolutely in understanding.

“Does your comm work? Mine doesn’t, and we need to call for backup and healers.” Boil shakes his arm a bit to show the lack of lights coming from the comm.

Waxer immediately starts digging into his pocket—so he wasn’t wearing it when the blast hit?—and brings up his comm. Unlike Boil’s, this one’s lights are glowing. Waxer messes with it for a bit then gives Boil a thumbs-up.

He moves through a rapid series of field signs, [Will comm for backup and healers. Find the General,] before he turns to his comm and starts to enter a number sequence, likely for the Jedi Temple or the brothers still in the General’s office.

“Senator Biwa and Himesh are both dead, I haven’t found anyone else besides you yet.”

[Understood.] Waxer’s face is set in grim determination.

Nodding resolutely to himself, Boil gets to his feet. Waxer is fine, mostly, and now Boil needs to find their general.

~~~~

Obi-Wan stares blankly into nothing and tries very hard to keep breathing, despite the utter agony of it.

He can’t move, even the tiniest of movement sends shocks of pain through him, worse than the constant throbbing of his chest. Breathing hurts and he takes slow, shallow breaths.

He’s not getting enough air, he knows as much, but any attempt to draw deeper breaths sends a wave of pain through his systems. Better to try and minimise the pain felt and hopefully be able to keep his wits about him longer.

What happened?

He swallows and blinks a few times, trying to make his vision stop spinning. The dizziness is worse than any he can remember in recent history. It’s much like the time when he contracted a rather bad concussion as a Padawan.

He closes his eyes and swallows again, trying to keep his breathing even if shallow, trying to stay calm despite it all.

They had finished the meeting. And then… What happened?

The senators.

Waxer and Boil.

Where is everyone? Where is he?

He looks around without moving his head, the disarray and destruction around him indicates some sort of explosion. No one else is here… What if they’re all dead? What if he’s the only one still alive?

The Force is silent. It seems… it seems this explosion was what it was trying to warn him about. However, he… He walked straight into it. He brought Waxer and Boil into it. If he’d gone alone, then at least they would have been safe.

Now…

Now he doesn’t… he doesn’t know if they’re even…

He blinks his eyes open. The pain is constant, and the worst of it is in his chest. He should… he should catalogue his injuries. Try to focus and see if there’s anything he can do something about.

He should be trying to move, trying to find the others and…

What was he thinking about? He tries to focus, tries to remember, but his head is spinning and he’s in so much pain.

Pain.

Injuries.

He was supposed to catalogue his injuries. He opens his eyes resolutely.

Sitting up is a far greater challenge than Obi-Wan could have ever imagined. He’s barely lifted his head a millimeter off the ground before he must stop, the strain on his chest too painful.

So, no sitting up to catalogue his injuries; he’ll have to do it lying down.

Obi-Wan relaxes his facial muscles, keeps his eyes closed, and tries to even out his erratic and painful breathing once more. If he can’t sit up and look, he’ll have to catalogue his injuries by what sort of pain he feels and where he feels it.

The pain in his chest is similar to being stabbed—he recognises the feeling well enough. His time as a Jedi has been fairly tumultuous, in great part due to the war, so he’s been stabbed a few times before. However, those injuries were likely not as severe as the stab injury currently afflicting his chest. If there is such a thing as a stab injury that isn’t severe.

Clenching his eyes shut harder, Obi-Wan tries to focus on his breathing properly. He feels not just dizzy, but also light-headed, as if he’s not getting enough air. The horrifying thought feels familiar, somehow.

He pushes that away; he shouldn’t get side-tracked. He needs to determine the severity of his stab wound beyond the obvious “to the chest” and “very painful when breathing”. He moves his left hand slowly, sliding it across his chest to try and find the wound.

It doesn’t take him long, and his hand closes around a long, round thing sticking out of his chest. The shock makes Obi-Wan stop breathing for what feels like like an eternity.

The feeling of having been stabbed, trouble breathing, this durasteel rod… Oh.

Obi-Wan opens his eyes and angles his head—moving his chin toward his chest without lifting his head from the floor, ignoring the almost painful way his scalp scrapes against it.

The angle is bad, the light is dim, and his vision is swimming, but Obi-Wan can still see the durasteel rebar—which must be piercing straight through his chest—quite clearly. Blood gleams on its surface and Obi-Wan has to swallow down panic.

He’s dying, isn’t he? He hasn’t heard anyone move, hasn’t heard anyone so much as call for him, so help doesn’t seem to be coming, and unless he gets help quickly… Even if the reinforcement bar is stopping the worst of the bleeding and hindering air from entering the chest cavity… He needs medical attention soon.

He’s dying. He’s dying and he’ll die alone.

There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no ignorance, there is knowledge. There is no passion, there is serenity. There is no chaos, there is harmony. There is no death, there is the Force.

There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no ignorance, there is knowledge. There is no passion, there is serenity. There is no chaos, there is harmony. There is no death, there is the Force.

There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no ignorance, there is knowledge. There is no passion, there is serenity. There is no chaos, there is harmony. There is no death, there is the Force.

The mantra, familiar as it is, is no help here. Obi-Wan finds that he cannot find any peace or serenity in the uncertainty and pain of his situation. He’s known he could die at almost any moment for years due to the war, and yet…

He clenches his eyes shut again, finds that he cannot stand to keep looking at the blood covered piece of durasteel any longer. He feels ill. There’s a piece of durasteel rebar going straight through his chest.

The thought enters his head, panicked and unbidden; some of the last words he’ll ever say to Anakin and Ahsoka: “Like Master, like Padawan.”

Master Qui-Gon died by being pierced through the chest with a lightsaber, and now Obi-Wan will…

The hysterical giggle wheezes out of his mouth. The shortness of his breath is as terrifying as the knowledge that he will die alone.

“Obi-Wan. Little one. Please don’t despair. Help will come, you must only hold on long enough.”

Oh. That achingly familiar voice.

Obi-Wan gasps for breath, every single one rattling his chest and sending spikes of pain through him. So this is how it will go. If there is no real companionship to be had as he dies—what happened to the others? Waxer and Boil? The senators?—then it appears he will hallucinate some.

“Oh, Padawan mine, you cannot give up now,” Qui-Gon’s voice says, strain and worry apparent in a way it rarely was in life.

When Obi-Wan finally relents and opens his eyes, he’s met with a sight he didn’t expect. The illusion of his old, long-dead Master is glowing, faintly blue, and quite see-through—not solid and real looking as he would have expected.

Why would he hallucinate a ghost as his sole companion during his last moments?

“Please, Obi-Wan, try to focus,” the ghost says and kneels down, bringing its face that much closer to Obi-Wan’s own. One of its big hands brushes some stray hair out of Obi-Wan’s face—it feels like a gentle breeze.

“You will survive this, Padawan mine, because of your use of the Force.”

The Force? What…? He tries to remember.

They had just finished the meeting and were heading out to have lunch, and then… Nothing. It’s a blur. Why is he here?  What happened? What did he do?

“W-what?” he croaks.

“You shielded yourself, and the others close to you, from the worst of the blast… Help will get here in time, Obi-Wan.”

The blast? The others? What others?

…

Oh. Oh, that’s right. The senators, Waxer and Boil. Yes, they were close to him. Where are they?

He’s alone, wherever he is. Hallucinations don’t count as company.

Oh…

He’ll die alone.

It’s now that Obi-Wan realises that for some reason, some reason he cannot quite understand, he always expected someone else to be there when he died.

Perhaps Anakin, during a mission gone wrong. Or Ahsoka during the same.

Perhaps Cody, in the midst of war and battle.

Perhaps surrounded by friends, old and finally at his end, in the Jedi Temple.

He’s never considered dying alone before.

That… that’s where he differs from his Master. At least… At least Master Qui-Gon didn’t die in solitude.

Pierced through the chest and definitely dying, Obi-Wan finds himself glad that he was there for his Master’s last moments—whatever little comfort he might have been, because he sorely wishes for the same now.

“Oh, Obi-Wan, please don’t despair. I am one with the Force, and the Force is always with you, and so, I am always with you. You must only hold on a little longer, and I am so very proud of you.”

Oh. Well.

“I was there…” Obi-Wan wheezes, “when you died… Perhaps it is… fitting… That I see you… now when I die…” It’s so hard to breathe, and so hard to speak. His eyelids feel heavy, like slabs of durasteel. Obi-Wan struggles to keep his eyes open, to keep looking at this mirage. Even if it’s not real, it’s a sight sorely missed.

The ghost of his Master looks so very sad, suddenly, but Obi-Wan simply smiles at the mirage. He wishes he could be held like when he was young, just one last time, but he knows it’s impossible. Hallucinations brought on by the spinning mind of a dying man cannot touch you.

Master Qui-Gon’s ghost says nothing more, simply leans over and kisses Obi-Wan’s forehead. Obi-Wan finally closes his eyes. The pain is immense, but perhaps there is peace to be found in his dying moments after all.

There is no death, there is the Force.

—

(Supreme Chancellor Obi-Wan Kenobi masterpost)