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subbing-for-clones · 3 years

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The Alpha and The Omega Part 1

Alpha!Maul x Omega!Reader

Word Count: 4.5k

Summary: A Jedi Padawan prepares for her trials to become a knight but learns something new about herself that leads to her having to leave the order. With a fear of the large galaxy and a new, unexpected companion she has to learn to live with herself and how to survive an unforgiving environment.

WARNINGS: fear, going into heat (no sex), nudity. A/B/O dynamics

A/N: Maul is not actually in this chapter. He shows up in the next just so everyone is aware. This chapter establishes what my version of an alpha and omega are. No y/n

NEXT MASTERLIST

You had never been so hungry in your life. Master Plo Koon, Master Qui Gon Jinn and your fellow padawan Obi Wan all watched you in various levels of amazement and bewilderment as you worked on your third helping of whatever kind of stew the cafeteria had prepared. Your master however, was chuckling under his de-oxygenator.

“Are you alright little one?” Qui Gon asked with a brow quirked. If you paid attention, you’d have guessed he was more impressed than his horrified padawan at the immense amount of food you were consuming. You couldn’t pause between each spoonful long enough to answer him so your master spoke.

“For the last few days, she’s been utterly insatiable.”

“Are you quite sure you don’t have a parasite or something?” Obi Wan asked with a concerned frown. Your only response was shooting him a glaring look before continuing to eat ravenously. Clearing your bowl, you stood and went to drop off your empty dish with the rest of the dirty dishes followed by your friend.

“I am starting to become concerned for my padawan. At first I assumed that the rise in her nerves were caused by her upcoming trials for her knighthood but I’m not so sure.”

“What else is going on with her?” Qui Gon eyed you as you left the cafeteria followed by Obi Wan, no doubt to continue your studies.

“She’s always struggled with controlling some of her stronger emotions but she has made immense improvements over the years under my tutelage. However, the last few days it almost seems like she’s reverted back. She’s not outward with them in the least but I can sense them through our bond. She’s incredibly quick to anger and sadness specifically.”

Qui Gon furrowed his brows and sat pensively for a moment before asking, “you don’t think she could be pregnant, do you?”

“No, that’s not an option. She hasn’t left the temple in months except for her training mission on Hoth and it was just the two of us. Over the last few months, she has been fervently preparing for her trials bouncing back and forth between the archives, the meditation gardens and sparing with various willing masters. Even if she did find the time, with how emotional she’s been I would’ve sensed something but I don’t think she even has any idea what’s going on.”

“Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help. I’ve always liked her and appreciated her friendship with my padawan. Have the healers take a look at her if you can convince her to let them.”

“Yes, that might be a good idea.”

You had in fact spent the remainder of the evening in the archives with your long-time friend Obi Wan attempting to study while dodging his various inquiries to your condition. At the end of the night, you fought the urge to slam the doors behind you while you urged him for the hundredth time that you were fine. Walking back to your sparse room in the living quarters you realized that you were in fact not fine. You had never felt anything but safe living here at the temple, surrounded by your peers and masters. Now though, a sense of dread formed in the pit of your stomach. You hadn’t the slightest clue as to why. Yes, your trials were approaching in the following months but you felt completely prepared for them.

Your skin felt hot under your robes and the second you entered your private quarters you stripped out of them, hopping through a quick cold shower. It only granted you a temporary relief and by the time you left the ‘fresher you were burning up and feeling way too exposed, even within the confines of your small room. You watched your hands pull the mattress off of its rails and onto the floor. Gathering up all of your spare blankets and robes you had, you bunched up a makeshift perimeter along the edges before climbing into the center and curling up, not bothering to dress before-hand.

Rest did not come to you that night. You woke frequently in cold shakes and waves of fear despite your best efforts to push them away, panic always on the edges of your mind and intense cramping in your abdomen.

The following morning when you had not come down for your first meal Master Plo reached out to you through the force, when he sensed your terror, he practically ran back to the living quarters, banging on your door. When you only answered with chocked whimpers, he unlocked the door with the force and drew his lightsaber. His initial worry was sated momentarily finding that you were alone but was quickly replaced when he saw the state you were it.

You lay in the center of your clumsily made ‘nest’ naked and covered in a thin sheet of sweat shivering violently. The only sounds that left you were terrified, incoherent mumbles, eyes widened in alarm.

“M- master… help me. I -… I don’t know what.. what’s happening,” you sobbed.

Plo removed his large brown cloak and quickly covered you with it. When you were properly concealed, he lifted you in his arms and rushed to the healers. Utterly confused by your state.

Hours of examinations and blood tests did nothing to sate your unease but did well to expand it. You had begged your master to stay by your side, clutching onto the one person you felt remotely safe around. He only left when one of the healers came to your bedside and beckoned him away with a worried look in her eye. It took several attempts to assure you that he would be right back, utter panic setting in once again once he left but you could feel the waves of tranquility he sent you through the force.

“What do her blood reports show?” he asked with his arms crossed.

“Well master that’s where it gets kind of tricky. She seems to be exhibiting symptoms of a heat cycle.”

“But, humans don’t go through heat cycles. Wait, do they?” Plo asked.

“No, they don’t. I tested her for exposure to various strains of the sex pollen but they all came up negative. To ease her pain, I gave her a dose of a common suppressant that some of our resident Jedi use to help their own cycles but it didn’t take. That led me to perform a genome test.”

“And did you find anything?”

“Yes, she has the Omega gene.”

“Oh… Oh. Well, that is, unfortunate...”

“She’s terrified and feeling exposed. I wanted to tell you first so you could decide if she should hear it from you or me. She seems to feel safest with you.”

Plo thought for a moment, “I think I should tell her.”

“What the fuck is an Omega gene?!” you were still shaking, trying to fight off the arousal that had taken root in your belly that swirled with your fright.

“It is an uncommon genome; its sole purpose is to ensure survival of a species. Most commonly men develop the Alpha and women the Omega although there are records of it being the other way around. Almost every species in the galaxy has at least a few Alphas and Omegas.”

“And the suppressants didn’t work because..?”

“Because it is stronger than a common heat cycle. It is a mutation that developed not just to ensure frequent breeding but survival of a species on a grand scale.”

You broke out into uncontrollable sobs; when your master tried to soothe you with a touch to your shoulder you jumped and growled at him, surprising you both before falling back into your distress.

Over the following weeks you could feel the change in your peers’ attitude towards you. They would snicker if you passed by and taunt you silently behind your back. You could feel the unease the masters felt when you came into close proximity. Even Master Qui Gon was hesitant around you. You did however still have Obi Wan. Still the loyal friend he had always been.

It took more searching than you thought but with his help you were able to find information cataloged by only one author.

“Did you really build a nest?” he asked, void of any judgement, looking over your shoulder at the writings.

“Yes, I did,” you said without taking your eyes off of the tome. “It says here that its genetic and pops up every few generations…”

“Your birth mother probably had no idea.”

“No, I don’t suppose she did. It says here I have scent glands? On my neck, my wrists, between my breasts and on my hips..” Obi wan leaned in and gave you an undignified sniff, you smacked him away.

“I can’t smell anything, just that minty shampoo you like so much.”

“That’s because you’re not an Alpha bantha brains,” you flustered.

“You don’t need to be rude about it,” he chuckled, “I’m just trying to lighten the mood here. You’ve been so sad since you found out. What, your heat will come once every few months right? It can’t be that bad.”

“It really is terrible; you have no idea. It’s not even the heat that I’m worried about.”

“Well, what has you so worked up then?”

“It says here that being an Omega is dangerous, the Alphas are often times violent and that they can smell me long before they see me… I’m safe here at the temple but what if they kick me out of the Order?”

“You’re not going to be kicked out.”

“I very well could be!” you pushed yourself out from behind the desk and huffed, “being a Jedi means no attachments, be one with the force, calm and collected, rational and compassionate. I am none of those things when the heat comes and no suppressants can stop it. What if it’s enough to pull me to the dark side? What if the council decides I am too big of a risk to everyone here to keep me around? Needs of the many always outweigh the needs of the few.”

Sure enough, it was less than a week before the council called you to stand before them. The room was silent, the faces that painted the members was grave. You could tell that whatever decision they came to was a long argued one. It was the look on your Master’s face that made a sadness ring through your heart.

“Do you know why we called you here?” Master Windu asked.

You inhaled deeply and sighed, “I think I have an idea..”

“Please understand padawan that if we had known you were an Omega, we wouldn’t have recruited you to the Order. We simply can’t have an Omega or an Alpha within our ranks.”

“I…I think I understand Master.”

“Understand how you feel, we do.” The Grandmaster said with a grave tone and a nod.

“Forgive me Master but, no, you don’t. With reason or not, I have had my birth family cast me out into your care because I was force sensitive and now, my second family does the same because of a gene I carry.” Your eyes flashed angrily. Abandoned again because of what you were. “I will gather my things and be gone before nightfall,” you turned on your heel and strode out of the council chambers, leaving the heavy sighs behind you as you fought tears.

When you finally reached your quarters the dam broke. Fat tears and wailing sobs poured out of you while your heart bled. Fear, pain, self-disgust all swirling in your mind. You had no idea what you were going to do, where you were going to go. You barely heard the knock against your door while you tried to wipe the salty wetness from your eyes. When you composed yourself as much as you could you opened the door to your Master and Obi Wan, both looking solemn.

“May we come it?” your master asked. Standing aside you allowed them entrance. “I voted no. I don’t think the council is making the right choice in this matter.”

“Thank you Master but the result is the same, with all due respect,” you pushed past him and starting shoving your sparse belongings into a travel bag pausing only when your friend stood in your way.

“I-I’m going to miss you..” he looked down at his feet.

“Oh Obi,” fresh tears wet your lashes. “I’m going to miss you to,” you pulled him into a tight hug. “I know you still have a few more years before your trials but; you’re going to make a wonderful knight.” His only response was to hug you tighter.

“The council has allocated a small fund for you young one. Because of the nature of your departure and the fact that you never broke the code or did anything wrong…” Master Plo held out a large purse filled with credits, “I hope it’s enough to get you settled somewhere until you can find something to do..” you took the purse and wrapped your arms around your Master’s waist.

Thanking him silently for everything. For raising you, teaching you everything you knew and again for advocating for you. You gathered your one personal item aside from your clothes, a holo-pic Obi Wan had taken of you and your Master standing on a cliff overlooking the water on Naboo. At the time he said he took it because you looked like a knight with your straight back and hands clasped behind your back, mirroring Plo perfectly. You thought him silly at the time but now; you felt grateful.

Months later you found yourself waitressing in a dirty little cantina on one of the lower levels of the city. The credits given to you were enough to pay for a dingy little studio apartment and the owner of the cantina owed Qui Gon a favor for some reason. Giving you a job made them even. You were drifting through your new life. Every night you would show up in your too tight, too short uniform and serve various drunkards and bounty hunters. Every morning you would stumble your way back to your new home utterly exhausted. When your heat hit your boss was understanding enough to give you time off so you could cry and feel the terrible pain and loneliness in peace.

A few days after your last heat, the third one you had ever experienced; you were back to work. It was a pretty slow night. The atmosphere was surprisingly calm in the run-down little bar. You heard the door creak open while you were in the kitchen grabbing an order for a young starry eyed Rodian obviously new to the city. You looked around the kitchen smelling something strange, something incredibly strong, smokey and musky. It only got stronger when you dropped off the plate. Your eyes met the new customer’s, a lone Duro looked up at you from under the lip of a worn wide brimmed hat. A smile grew across his face as you approached cautiously.

“Hey there little lady. Where’s your Alpha?”

A serious trepidation squeezed your insides as you realized exactly what it was you were smelling. The man in front of you was an Alpha. There was no doubt about it, if he could smell you, it was true. Your feet moved faster than your brain and carried you out of the bar, ignoring your boss’s bellowing. You pounded into the duracrete until you reached your little room. Opening the door as quickly as you could with trembling fingers you slunk into a shadowy corner. Tears pricked in the corners of your eyes as the cool night breeze drifted through the window.

Window. As soon as you thought the thought his scent flowed through it, he followed right behind, slinging his lithe body through the opening. Standing silhouetted in the flickering streetlights, you backed up until you hit the door. His long leather trench coat fluttered around his calves. You could hardly process how he lifted his palms up to you and tried to calm you down.

“What in the seven hells’ the matter with you ‘mega?” you lifted your hand and force pulled your light saber into your grasp and ignited the blue blade.

“Whoa whoa whoa there little lady. Calm down I’m not gonna hurt you.. been a while since I seen another one a us. Outside Corellia at least.” His voice was smooth with a rasp to it, his eyes glowed bright red in the low lighting, your saber casting a blue glow over the room.

“Never seen a Jedi ‘mega before,” he started.

“I’m no longer a Jedi,” you spat. It was the first thing you could say to the Alpha before you.

“You gotta calm down girl. I told you I’m not gonna hurt you,” he was inching closer to you.

“What do you want with me?” you tightened your grip and clenched your teeth, causing him to halt again on the stained floor.

“Where’s your Alpha? I can’t smell him.”

“You’re the first one I’ve met.”

“Listen I wanna help. Obviously if you’re here the Jedi gave you the boot. I’m gonna go out on a limb here, they found out when the suppressors didn work on ya.”

You sheathed your blade and lowered your head in sorrow.

“How long you been on your own?”

“A few months,” you looked up and wished you were back in the temple. You missed the gardens, you missed the archives, you missed your friend.. The Duro eyed you carefully like he could read your history just from your face before he scrunched his eyes up in confusion.

“Diddn they even tell you shit or did they just give you a pat and ‘good luck’?”

Your lack of a response was response enough; he sighed and muttered curses under his breath.

“Listen, most of us Alphas aren’t dangerous. We’re leaders, protectors. Omegas aren’t weak, you’re our second in command so to speak.” Your eyes widened at him. “I wanna help you.. I kinda feel like I have to. My mate would’ve if she was still around…” his eyes dimmed, “some of the Alphas can be shitty but it’s the others you gotta worry about. Slavers like buying your kind up and sellin em to the highest bidder. Sometimes they got a paid Alpha to sniff you out, some of em got hounds that can pick out your scent. If you stay here, you’re sittin pretty an ripe for their pickin.”

“What happened to your Omega?” your voice was quiet and cautious. You didn’t know if you could trust him or not but if he found you, others would be able to soon too.

“Trandoshans… I was off on a hunt; left her at home. Thought it was too dangerous for her to come with… I tried to find her, looked everywhere, called in every favor, went broke on bribes… never found her.”

Some primal, instinctual part of your heart broke for him. You had no idea what it was like to have a mate but you thought you’d rather die than lose yours and the look on his face confirmed that, he would too.

“Look, take it or not but this is me reaching my hand out. Tryin to make sure that what happened to her, doesn’t happen to you. Bounty huntings lucrative if you nab the right contracts. I can get you set up… the moving around ‘s safer than sitting still.”

You thought for a few minutes, pondering the information this man dumped on you all at once. Your Jedi brain told you not to trust him; that this guy was bad news, but you weren’t a Jedi anymore. They were the reason you were sitting here trying to decide if you could trust him or not. So, you listened to your Omega gut and it told you to go with him; and that’s what you did.

You spent a year with Cad Bane and if you were being honest, it was the best year of your life. He introduced you to the Bounty Hunters Guild by the name ‘Mega. Told you if they found out you were a former Jedi you wouldn’t get contracts so you went with it. There was even a whole house of the guild that was dedicated to Alphas and Omegas a secret little society that you had been welcomed into. He taught you how to use a blaster, damn well too. Your light saber was a hidden last resort to use only if you were about to be killed and you left no survivors. The two of you galivanted across the galaxy bringing in dangerous, high paying bounties.

He taught you about the sub culture of the Alphas and the Omegas and helped explain some of the odd tendencies you showed but didn’t understand. He was respectful during your heat and let you wait it out locked in the cabin while he slept in the cockpit. Occasionally you’d ask him to put a hand on the back of your neck to cool you down. His cold-blooded hands were the perfect ice pack for your fevered skin.

Not once did he ever try to scent you. To say he was friendly though would’ve been a lie. You had a companionable silence most of the time. You could count the times you made him smile on one hand. Most of which were when you got extra rough with a difficult quarry. The only other time was when some guy tried to hit on you in a cantina while you and Bane celebrated the largest reward you had ever gotten. You pressed the barrel of your blaster into his balls so hard, without even looking at him, he cried. Life was… good. Life was actually good. After the costs of resupply and fuel he gave you half of whatever was left over.

That’s how you got to where you were now. On Corellia in a ship yard looking to buy your own transport. Bane had introduced you to the Guild Master on this planet, long having gained membership with him as a sponsor and you got yourself a few of your own pucks. He stood beside you now as you tossed the credits to the seller and loaded up your new; well new to you, ship.

“Better than my first ship that’s for damn sure,” Bane said as he walked around it. It wasn’t large, it wasn’t small either, but it had a kitchenette, a cabin and a carbon-freezing chamber in the small cargo bay below deck. “That freezers gonna let you pick up a few bounties at a time,” he noted, leaning against the doorframe of the cabin, watching you put away your clothes and setting up the holo-pic of you and Plo by the large bed.

“That’s the plan. Move around as much as possible. Get rich on these dumbasses,” you moved to toss the pucks into your bag.

“Listen ‘Meg,” he straightened up, clenched his jaw and looked at the floor, “it was shitty goin for me for a long time. It’s gonna get shitty again and stay that way for the rest of my life but; well, you made it less shitty,” he was visibly uncomfortable.

“Don’t go getting all warm blooded on me now Bane,” you shot him a sad smile. You had to move on. He wasn’t your Alpha and you weren’t his Omega. You didn’t really think you would find a mate of your own but you could feel it through the force; as much as you relieved some of his stress, you made him miss his mate.

“Don’t get your hopes up sweetheart, I like you but not that much,” he smirked, “you got my commlink channel set up in there right?” his thumb pointed to the cockpit.

“Yeah I got it.”

“Don’t hesitate if you get in over your head kid. I mean it ‘Meg, don’t be so proud you go and get yourself killed.”

“I won’t, I promise Bane.”

“Good,” he walked over to you and for a second you thought he was actually going to hug you; what he did was a bigger shock. He took his hat off and placed it on your head. Your eyes widened to saucers and you looked at him almost confused. A grin cracked your lips when he pulled a new, bigger one out of no where and shrugged his shoulders.

“I like this one better anyway,” he turned to leave the hull but not before rasping out a “see you around ‘Meg, give em all seven hells out there,” over his shoulder.

You made your way to the cockpit, pulling Bane’s hat down tighter on your head and running your finger across the brim; watching him leave the shipyard through the view port with one last swish of his coat. You were sad to watch that gun slinging bastard go but thanked the maker he found you, thanked the maker that you followed him that night.

You ran through your preflight checklist and started her up ‘The Wolf.’ You liked the way it sounded. Pulling up into the atmosphere and punching in the coordinates for Lothal, the highest priced bounty in your current collection. You pulled back the lever, shooting you into hyperspace. You made your way back to your cabin and picked up the holo-pic of you and your master. You wondered what he was doing right now. If he had taken in a new padawan. You hoped he had; he was a wonderful master; the best you could’ve asked for. You wondered if he thought about you as much as you thought about him. You smiled, probably. He always had trouble not forming attachments. You set the picture back down and pulled another one out of your bag. You had tried to keep it a secret from Bane but you were sure he knew about it.

It was from the night you almost took off the nuts of the guy who tried flirting with you. You had bought a round for everyone in the small cantina out of your own pocket, you were so excited about taking down the biggest quarry the two of you had seen to date. Several beings of different species all raised a glass of various liquors in your honor while Bane faced the bar not looking at you, the smallest smirk on his face below the rim of the hat you were wearing now. The smile you had on in this picture might be the biggest you’ve ever made. You set it down next to the one of you and Plo and compared the two, hardly believing you were the same person. You weren’t, but they were both you.

You kicked your boots off and plopped down on the bed, arms crossed behind your head and the hat tilted over your eyes. This was it; this was living.

#maul x reader #darth maul #Star Wars AU #TPM au #a/b/o #a/b/o dynamics #no y/n #darth maul x reader #star wars #the phantom menace

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nancywheelxr · 4 years

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Can you do a “anikain doesn’t turn evil AU” where obi wan realizes the influence the emperor has on anikain and being like “whoop no”

Look, Obi-Wan will be the first to admit he made some bad judgment calls.

It happens, even with Jedis, but even a blind man can see that Palpatine is as suspicious as they get. Politics aside, he doesn't like how Palpatine is always sniffing around Anakin, whispering in his ear and infecting him with his views.

He's not an idiot, he knows something is up, something troubling.

Besides, of course, the whole Padmé situation. Obi-Wan sighs; it is truly a feat how a headache always makes itself known whenever he thinks too hard about Anakin. In any case, there’s not much time to dwell on hypotheticals, Anakin’s door is already sliding open.

“Obi-Wan,” he sounds happy to see him, if subdued, his previous rage against the council abated some, at least. Yes, perhaps coming to talk after they both cooled off instead of chasing him down in the hallways had been, indeed, wiser. “I thought you’d be far from here by now?”

“There was some delay– one of the ships has been having trouble taking off,” Obi-Wan allows a wry smile to break free, “funny that, uh?”

Anakin snorts. “I figure I should not ask any more about it, then?”

“Best not, plausible deniability and all,” he shakes his head, good humor bleeding from his expression into something more serious, “I wanted to speak with you.”

The change is immediate. Anakin scoffs, standing from where he had been sitting on his bed to pace around the room. “There’s nothing to talk about, everyone’s been perfectly clear where they stand on this matter– you, included.”

While this is not what he had had in mind, Obi-Wan can’t say he’s surprised, not really. He watched Anakin grow into a fine young man and he’s seen his moods and tempers, tried to steer him into the steady waters of the Force, sand off his sharp edges, but– feelings, he supposes, have never come easy for him.

Not for the first time, he wishes Qui-Gon was there. His master would have known what to say, how to placate Anakin, how to help instead of standing at the sidelines. Qui-Gon should have been Anakin’s master and Obi-Wan isn’t always sure he was a good enough substitute. Still, what was it that Yoda said all those years ago?

Your master’s defiance I sense in you.

Very well.

“Let me rephrase that,” he clears his throat, sitting down in the wooden chair and ignoring Anakin’s taken aback face, “I am here to listen. Something has been bothering you, more than the Council’s questionable decisions, I can see it, and while you are not my padawan any longer, you must know I’ll always help you.”

“Master,” murmurs Anakin, apparently thrown off by the sudden shift in the conversation, and Obi-Wan can see the doubt and desperation raging behind his eyes. It makes his chest ache– how did he let it come to this?

“Don’t look so surprised, I don’t always agree with the Council, I merely have more sense than go around storming out of meetings,” he teases not unkindly, trying to put him more at ease before prodding again, “so tell me, is it about Padmé?”

Anakin goes rigid. His eyes widen he grows pale. "I have no idea what you're talking about– or, or, implying– "

"Anakin," Obi-Wan says as patiently as he can, "everyone knows about Padmé."

Somehow, this doesn't seem to placate him. If anything, he goes more apoplectic.

"Honestly, there's no need for this,” he can’t quite stop the small smile from escaping his lips, “if you didn’t want people to know, you should have at least tried to be subtle. Now, is it about her?”

The question is more or less rhetoric because of course it’s about Padmé, nothing else would send Anakin in such a spiral, and true enough, as soon as he swallows over the boulder he's got lodged in his throat, Anakin makes his guilty face. “Obi-Wan, I–”

“Plausible deniability, Anakin," a reminder, "I’m not here to judge you or condemn you,” he stops him before he could go into a tirade of apologies, “I only wish to know what has been troubling you lately.”

Hesitancy dances over his face and Obi-Wan wonders when did this chasm between them start. Had it been there all along? He– now that he knows it’s there, he’ll make sure to build a bridge over it, step by step. After a long minute, Anakin sighs, tentatively reaching, "many things have been troubling me, but perhaps I should start apologizing– I am not the Jedi I should be, I have doubts and I wish for more than I should. Maybe that's the root of the issue, after all."

Well, this is a tad easier than tackling relationship troubles if Obi-Wan is being honest. "You know," he is faintly amused, thinking back to his younger years, following his master through the stars, "Qui-Gon was not very liked by the Council."

"Excuse me?"

"He was too inclined to find loopholes to do what he felt best," he smiled, "gave the Council quite a headache over the years."

"I didn't know that," Anakin says softly, pensive.

"You also didn't know what Yoda told me the day I came to inform them of my decision of training you like Qui-Gon wished," Obi-Wan continues, ignoring the cloud of grief that always seems to settle over those days right after Qui-Gon's death, "he told me I had my master's defiance in me after I told him I'd honor Qui-Gon's wish whether the Council approved or not."

The expression on Anakin’s face is heartbreakingly surprised– perhaps Obi-Wan should not have tried so hard to keep his moments of weakness to himself, perhaps he should have shown him he, too, had his moments of doubt. Perhaps, if he had told him about Satine–

An old, familiar ache blooms gently over his heart, bruising like a flower.

“We all have our doubts, Anakin,” he sighs, suddenly tired, “we all have deviated the code in one way or another, and none of us are the Jedis we should be– we are only ourselves, that’s all.”

Anakin wavers. “The Council thinks–”

“The Council thinks a lot of things,” he says mildly, “and you have never taken their words to heart before. Honestly, considering the line of Jedis you come from, it would be odd if you did not defy them now and then. So I’ll offer again, if you speak, I’ll listen.”

It takes another drawn-out minute before Anakin’s last wall crumbles and his face scrunches up in agony. “Obi-Wan, I had a dream–”

His voice bounces off the walls in his cramped quarters and Obi-Wan listens to the retelling of his visions, frown etched permanently on his forehead, arm around Anakin’s shoulder like he used to do when Anakin was a child barely reaching his waist and clinging to him for dear life in a still foreign Coruscant.

Fixing this will not be easy, but he thinks between the two of them and Padmé, they’ll figure something out. And, if he’s being honest, he’s quite excited to be an uncle.

#star wars #sw #obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #prequels #star wars fanfic #obi wan and anakin brotp #anakin doesn turn evil au

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lillianofliterature · 6 years

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extending hospitality | obi-wan kenobi x jedi!reader | 1/3

REVISED on June 11th, 2022: expanded from 5.8k to 6.1k.

a/n: This story is based on a small bit of dialogue I came up with late at night. It was originally a more humorous outline about needing to use Obi-Wan’s shower after a tough mission, but instead, it ended up being rather serious (very typical of me, oops).

All credit to God! He truly does ignite and inspire these ideas and writing.

DO NOT REPOST MY WORK.

summary: reader is given a mission that doesn’t go as planned, leaving her to flee the mission in a worn and battered state. being tracked on her way home by the very men she was sent to arrest, she flees to Obi Wan’s quarters for refuge.

warnings: mentions of blood, wound-related gore

word count: 6.1k

music: Rain of Bullets and Bedroom Dreams by James Newton Howard

tags: @yana-versio and @rootsec

PART TWO

You felt the tension of your worn muscles build as you padded up the steps towards your dearest friend’s quarters on the expansive grounds of the Jedi Temple. Each step provoked an aching pulse to echo throughout your muscles with burning ferocity. You were burdened with exhaustion, but you knew you could not yet go home to your own quarters to sleep it off. You had just returned from a very tedious mission that had meant to be quick and simple—or so your orders had reported. But when you had arrived to liberate the undercity’s warehousing sector from bounty ring associates, everything had escalated to chaos.

You weren’t entirely sure how many wounds you bore, only that the pain surged all over your body. Your robes were tainted with blood; so much so that you didn’t know where the bleeding had begun and what of it was your own. You clutched your stomach as a sharp pain inflamed through your left thigh and upwards. You had been grazed a few times with blasters during the fight. Typically, Jedi were able to sense bullets and fired blasters in order to avoid being hurt, but you had been vastly outnumbered—something the council seemed to have overlooked as they handed you your orders that morning.

Reaching the top of the steps, you paused to allow your breath to even out. Obi-Wan’s quarters were just down the hall, where he would most likely be making his evening tea, or going over the next day’s schedule with his padawan. You pressed forward, the carpeted floor doing little to ease the soreness in your feet.

The warm, yellow lights did draw forth some comfort for you; they were the opposite of the harsh, cold blue lights of the building you had been in during your mission. A greater comfort fell over you as Obi-Wan’s door came into view and his golden nameplate glinted in the warm light. When you stood in front of the door, you heard his muffled voice from the other side and Anakin’s unintelligible reply. Then Obi-Wan began speaking again.

Weaker than you anticipated, you reached forward and rapped your bruised knuckles against the door. Obi-Wan’s voice halted and you could feel a timid silence reside over the room momentarily. His boot-falls came nearer to the door and with the click of the automated lock, the keypad blinked green and the door glided open. You offered him a smile, although you were sure it looked as pitiful as it felt.

“(Y/n)! What happened to you?” He asked. His voice was filled with pensive worry, though clipped with the careful emotional filter of a Jedi. Anakin stood up from the couch as he laid eyes upon your well-beaten attire and battered appearance.

“I- uh, I was on a mission. It was a small liberating plan at a nearby shipping facility, but there were more complications than the council anticipated.” Your voice was breathy. What little air coursed through you was raspy as it escaped your lungs.

“What are you doing here? Why haven’t you gone to the infirmary?” Came his inquisitions.

“My quarters are being watched by trackers, as well as my ship. I didn’t want to risk being fired at again. Or shot with a poison dart.” You gave a weak laugh upon your last words as you imagined the outcome a dart would have given your already-worn state or the outcome that another well-aimed blaster would have resulted in.

“Come in, quickly,” He said, stepping out and placing an arm around your waist, the other on the forearm that you had pressed to your side. As he helped you make cautious steps toward the couch, he motioned to Anakin with a nod of his head. “Anakin, get some rags and hot water.”

Immediately, Anakin made his way to the washroom with haste in his steps. Obi-Wan helped you lower yourself onto the couch with caution, he himself unaware of the extent of your wounds. He kneeled before you and looked into your eyes, checking for signs of fading consciousness or increasing dilation. Your gaze averted his as the sound of running bath water met your ears from Anakin’s direction.

Obi-Wan reigned your attention back in as he pushed your bloodied sleeve up to look at your wound. Upon his moving the fabric of your clothing, the wound became irritated and moist with fresh blood. You winced, obviously sensitive to the feeling of fabric brushing against exposed tissue. His expression hardened as he discovered a deep cut there, amongst smaller scrapes, trailing up your arm. Gingerly, he felt his thumb around the wound, examining further.

“Save your disapproval for later, Obi-Wan. That’s not all of them.” You said in an effort to get a laugh out of him, but he only granted you a weighty smile full of evident worry.

He looked at the rest of your clothes and began examining where the bleeding seemed to be coming from. On your shoulder, he found another graze wound, not as deep as the one on your arm, but bloody nonetheless. Your calves bore burns from a fire that had sparked from a spray of senseless blasters towards an explosive cargo hold. Upon his questioning, you explained to him how the rest of your body had not suffered burns; you hadn’t been near the explosion itself, but merely the trail of fire that was set ablaze in its wake.

“How did you get like this? You’re riddled with wounds, (Y/n).” Obi-Wan asked.

“I was outnumbered.”

“By how many?”

“Thirty, at least.”

“Thir-?” He sighed, his voice fading as he summed up the situation in his mind. He whispered to himself in a tone almost wary, “Thirty.”

It mightn’t have been so dreadful had there been thirty mindless droids rather than bounty hunters and mercenaries. But Obi-Wan knew that such opponents were tough, especially when they fought without honor, without merit—they cheated and scummed their way through everything, especially when it came to resisting due punishment. He could only imagine how overwhelmed you must have been in the situation, all alone and unprepared. The evidence was in your condition.

Once again, your attention was stolen away as Anakin entered the room with a basin of steaming water and fresh rags draped over his arm. As he kneeled beside Obi-Wan, his expression seemed to mimic your own as his eyes looked over the jagged incision on your arm. Obi-Wan’s thoughts were riddled with questions about the mission, but he kept silent, not wanting to make matters more strenuous for you.

How long had you been out there, trying to overpower them? Why had the council sent you such a dangerous mission alone? And if they had miscalculated the probability of safety, what other casualties were at stake?

Why had the council become so careless as of late? What would have happened to you if the mission had gone worse?

He sickened himself at the thought of you lying helpless, dying, isolated on some ridiculous errand for the council. He quickly tried to suppress the emotions that began to kindle within him for your sake.

Without relinquishing his temperate grip on your arm, he reached with his other hand to dip a rag into the hot water. He then applied it to your skin with soft pressure. The heat was a welcome change from the clammy, dirty state your skin was in. As he scrubbed the dried blood that had trickled from your wounds, the entity reactivated, much like a thin paint, and bled into the rag. Obi-Wan was aware of the wound that you bore on your thigh that had caused you to walk so clumsily unsteadied, but was hesitant to have you stand up for him to check them. Instead, he carefully cleaned the wounds on your upper body before worrying you about the rest, deciding to give you a moment’s rest for exerting yourself again.

Anakin watched pensively, his eyes riddled with worry upon seeing a Jedi bare wounds such as these. It wasn’t uncommon for a Jedi to walk away from a mission with a few scrapes, but it was rare that they walked away in the condition you had, especially from solo missions, which were engineered and calculated to be safer for one Jedi. His gut stirred all the more at the sight of you, a close mentor of his alongside Obi-Wan, in such a terrible state. For you were one of the most skilled and focused Jedi he had ever met, so much so that much of his battle tactics were derived from those he had glimpsed from you in action or on the sparring mat.

The next few moments were filled with silence as Obi-Wan cleaned the bloodied grime from your flesh. The only short interruptions to the quiet were his orders to Anakin to retrieve ointment and gauze for a temporary bandage, among other medicinal supplies. He asked for you to adjust your position to make it easier for the both of you as he applied them.

His simple remedy would do well for you until you could go to the infirmary. He planned to take you himself the next morning, trackers or not. He could not—would not watch you suffer, nor let you prolong the intensive care you very obviously needed.

Anakin soon left to get you water to drink and a few morsels to eat while you were being patched up, leaving a stern-faced Obi-Wan in your presence.

You knew him well enough to recognize his stern expression as an indication of the depth of his concern and his caring ways. You smiled to yourself as his soft hands gripped your arm again as he prepared to apply the ointment. You wondered briefly what he would do if you reached out and moved the disheveled tendrils of dirty blonde hair from his brow. Your warm thought was interrupted as the ointment sent a trail of stinging pain across the cut. Wincing, you sucked in your breath, causing him to relinquish his grip momentarily.

“A little warning next time would do nicely, Obi-Wan.” You whispered through clenched teeth.

“My apologies, (Y/n). I’ll keep that in mind.” His eyes gleamed mischievously for a moment, an almost innocent smirk playing upon his lips.

The silence resumed and Obi-Wan went on doctoring the damages. In a few minutes, Anakin returned and offered you water and hot potato sticks (one of your favorite delicacies). The cool water quenched your thirst and the sticks soothed the hunger you were unaware of. By the time you finished, Obi-Wan was wrapping up the last injury on your shoulder. When he secured the bandage, he wrapped the roll of gauze up hastily and stood. He offered a hand to you.

“Here, take my hand,” He asserted. “I need to look at the wound on your leg. It seems to be the worst.”

Carefully, he pulled you up from the couch with both of his hands in yours. Even amidst the sudden pain as you put pressure upon your leg and abdomen, a fluttering erupted in your stomach at his touch. Suddenly, dizziness whirled through you and you swayed in front of him. He grasped you quickly and steadied you against his chest, mindful to avoid your wounds.

“Whoa, whoa…” He murmured, mostly to himself. “You’re exhausted—and terribly weak.”

Paused in thought, he held you for a moment as your vision blurred in and out and little blue dots scurried across your vision. There was a pulsing sensation that ran through your body, as if the blood was still draining from your veins. Against his chest, you did not fear falling, only losing consciousness. You abhorred this feeling of not being in control of your own body.

Slowly, he eased you back down onto the cushions to let you gain your strength back. He summoned for Anakin, but amidst your conundrum, you only heard his muffled tone and Anakin drawing near. You felt another pair of hands on your arms as Obi-Wan’s grip faded from your senses.

“Master (L/n), are you alright?

“Where’s Obi?” You breathed, closing your eyes as the pressure in your head throbbed.

“He’ll be back, he went to get something.” Came Anakin’s tender voice.

With the strain of your body slowly dissipating, the dizziness faded and you opened your eyes. Tension still welled in your head, but it dwindled the longer you sat. Anakin’s hands rested on your good arm timidly like a child anticipating what might happen next or how they might help.

“I’m sorry, I guess those potato sticks weren’t enough to give you your strength back.”

“Oh, Ani, don’t be sorry. You were thoughtful enough to bring them to me in the first place. And they were quite delicious.”

There was an airy giggle suppressed behind his apprehensive smile.

You looked into his eyes and found a reflection of anxious worry in them, and perhaps even fear. Placing a hand over his small ones, you offered him a soothing pat. You relished in the feeling of having Anakin as a young student, even though he was Obi-Wan’s padawan. Since he had returned all of those years ago with Obi-Wan after Qui-Gon’s death, he had become much like a son to you. It comforted you at the depth of his concern; however, you wished he wouldn’t worry himself over you.

“I’m alright, Anakin. We’ve seen worse.”

At first, his only reply was only a sad sort of smile. Then his lips parted timidly.

He said, “Yes, but it was never you, Master (L/n).”

Obi-Wan returned and felt the fear immolating from Anakin. He wished he could help Anakin divulge his fear, but how could he help the boy when he himself was terrified for you? You looked up and noticed he carried a glass full of thick blue fluid.

As he kneeled in front of you, the stench of his concoction repulsed your senses. It smelled of something like mold and boiled cabbage. You knew it was unlikely the smell foretold of its ingredients, but it was foul nonetheless. Even Anakin wrinkled up his nose and leaned out from its trail of fume. Obi-Wan placed the glass in your hands and covered your fingers with his for a lingering moment.

“What is this? It wreaks.” You contested.

“Drink it up. It will give you some of your strength back faster than anything else,” Obi-Wan said. With much hesitance, you bid the frothy fluid to glide down your throat. The pungent flavor infiltrated your taste buds with residual disgust.

“Blech.”

Obi-Wan smiled and a chuckle reverberated from deep within. You were glad to see a smile upon his face, even if it was at your own expense. Anakin took the glass from you and kept it at a respectful distance from his own nose. Obi-Wan let you sit a few minutes as the entity made its way through your system and began to take effect. During that time, he gathered up the supplies and prepared more rags to clean the blood from your leg.

When he seemed to have finished, he turned to you. “Do you think you can stand now?”

“It’s worth a try.”

Satisfied with your answer—or more so with the effects of his creation—he offered you a hand and you stood with more ease this time, apart from the pain that still surged from your thigh. Anakin returned momentarily and helped his master remove the cloth from your robes that had knitted itself into the grotesque gash. Obi-Wan knelt down and pulled up your robe to expose the wound.

He thought nothing more of the bare skin of your thigh than of his concerns for your wellbeing and the blood that stained it. He was a good man with honest intentions and nothing impure rose in him. In fact, had there been no dire need to do so, he would have been irreversibly embarrassed to look upon it. But in the adrenaline of helping you, the only present thing on his mind—and in his heart—was the need to help heal you.

Here, Obi-Wan could deduce the full extent of your injuries. Part of your thigh looked mangled from the shot you took from a blaster, along with the scuffle that must have followed with it. Not only was it deep, but it had split and stretched open even more from the stress of your mission and the return to the temple. The blaster had inflicted such marred damage that it looked to him like a scorched canyon, a valley of flesh eaten up by bloodied lava. The heat from the bullet had even burned the surrounding skin.

Scrapes and other minor cuts surrounded it, but they were the least of his concerns in comparison to the gash that gaped back at him. As you lifted up a small part of your shirt, you revealed to him a thin laceration that trailed up to your abdomen. The irritation you had previously felt there had been the incessant mingling of your rough woolen robes against bare tissue.

Both Obi-Wan and Anakin marveled at how you had managed to keep going with such extremities. Especially on your thigh, with the duration of the mission from when you had received the wound to when you had trekked up the steps of the temple to Kenobi’s quarters. And who knew how long you had been trying to evade those trackers before you had even reached the temple itself!

They marveled all the more as they realized how much tolerance you must have had to the pain, or at least a good bout of lingering adrenaline to mask it from your senses. Obi-Wan followed the same procedure he had done with your arm and shoulder, however, he was concerned his quaint remedy would do very little for this extensive harm.

Anakin left to get you more water, busying his mind with some form of duty rather than watching anxiously as his master patched you up. When Anakin faded from ear-shot, Obi-Wan spoke up.

“(Y/n), what happened out there?” Obi-Wan’s voice was soft, and it comforted you, but the perturbed tinge that curved his tone reminded you that this was no time for lighthearted dismissal.

“I was outnumbered, like I said. Concentration made no difference out there. My saber was more or less useless, even with deflection. I couldn’t get close enough under fire to do anything…” Your voice trailed off. He could sense the bitter feeling of resentment seated within you—the result of being more or less abandoned by your superiors. “I was told it was a small enough mission to go on alone, I was even advised to go solo on this one. When I got there it seemed reasonable enough, until the fighting started.”

As you went on, he tentatively kept working and listening to every word.

“I guess the few I was sent to arrest alerted the others, or those warehouses are more of a stronghold than we originally thought. I was surrounded within minutes. I didn’t have the opportunity to manipulate anything while blocking the wall of ammunition. It was all too much. And you know the manner of those connected to the bounty ring; ruthless and without any form of scruples. They use any method to down their enemy, honorable or not.”

He paused from his work and looked up at you. His brows drew together as the circumstances of your mission formulated into images in his mind. His expression was more or less his way of questioning why you had been sent on such a dangerous mission on your own, whether the council was aware of its risks or not. From his gaze, you could see the small spark of frustration beginning to grow there.

He knew as well as you did that had you suffered any more casualties to your body, you would have died—a simple liberation plan deemed by the council would have turned fatal. And all because the council hadn’t looked further into it themselves, expecting you to work out the kinks. As Jedi themselves, he expected more discernment on their part.

“Obi, at least we know that that area is more heavily harbored by the bounty ring than we suspected. We can go back with a better plan, with a stable group of fighters. We can know what to expect in future liberations when dealing with those scoundrels.”

“That’s not the point, (Y/n). While that’s it true and most wise of you to consider, I am more concerned with how this supposed “safe” mission got past the council and into your hands to go at by yourself,” He replied. His eyes met your gaze with an intent gleam in them as he carefully began wrapping your thigh with gauze. You steadied yourself by placing a hand on his shoulder, worried you would become unbalanced as he bandaged it.

You bit your lip in anticipation as he tore the gauze, but the pain didn’t come. A brief smile tugged at your lips. Even when bandaging a torn-up leg, he managed to be temperate and courteous. You tried your best to come up with the words to assuage his frustration at the council. No good would come of such feelings.

Besides, you yourself could hardly blame them.

They had been so burdened with matters of the senate that they had made a mistake. You wouldn’t want to be in their shoes at the heart of all matters, with your decree as the final say in the unknown. But you eased your worry as you knew Obi-Wan would overcome the frustration on his own; he was never one to allow his emotions to overwhelm him. He knew too well the dangers of such allowances.

He bandaged your abdomen as well with the same delicate consideration. When he had finished and Anakin left once more to put the dirty rags and supplies away, he sat you down on the cushions. He placed himself beside you, releasing a relieved sigh.

He mulled over in his mind the events of the previous hour. In the same vein of thought, the events of your mission repeated in your head, from the sounds of blasters and the yelling of bounty hunters to the smell of burning cargo that still lingered in your nose.

You leaned your head back upon the couch and closed your eyes. Even such blissful silence could not ease the exhaustion that had begun to return to your body.

When Anakin returned, he stopped short as he took in the sight before him. He hadn’t seen you so exhausted in all his life as a padawan. He dually noted the proximity at which Master Kenobi had placed himself next to you. Smiling broadly to himself, he bid a quiet goodnight to Obi-Wan, and turned and went to his own room.

Anakin, too, repeated the drastic shift the night had taken within his mind. It had been hard for him to see you like that, but in the same way, he was proud of the way his master had responded, and he was proud of how fearlessly you carried your injuries with little to no complaint. He couldn't deny that he was very contented to see the way Obi-Wan had cared for your wounds so intimately; for Master Kenobi to show some sign of his affections for you, even if only for a little while.

Back in his room, he toyed with the thought of Obi-Wan revealing his emotions to you in some exaggerated circumstance, some grandly elaborate moment. With a boyish grin, he settled himself into bed and drifted off, finally at peace that you would be safe for the night—and that his master might just come to his senses and kiss you already.

Obi-Wan saw your eyes droop as your posture deflated against the cushions. You were fading fast into a well-deserved and very much-needed slumber. He nudged your hand in an attempt to stir you awake. You lifted your head drearily and looked at him.

He whispered softly to you, “You can sleep in my room tonight, (Y/n). I will be perfectly satisfied to sleep out here.”

You began to protest, but he defiantly ignored you by helping you to your feet. He led you into his room and unfurled the covers. You sat on the edge of the bed as he disappeared into another room, presumably his closet. He returned shortly with a set of his sleep-ware for you.

“You should get out of those robes and put these on. You’ll feel better for it. Let me know when you’re changed. Or—ah,…should you need…help in any way.” He said, slipping out of the room and letting the door glide behind him.

His last offer was spoken with honest intentions and an awkward tone of voice. You smiled bashfully at his offer; you knew he meant nothing obscene by it. You yourself were presently curious as to how you would manage to undress in this condition.

Begrudgingly, you forced yourself up and managed to somehow rid yourself of the tattered robes, throwing them in a distasteful pile by the door. You slid into the soft sleeping robe and trousers, careful not to agitate your bandaged wounds. As you made your way to do the door to summon Obi-Wan, you glanced around the room and took in the little details that seemed to make it his.

It was clean and organized, with everything put where it should be and nothing out of place. Books lined his desk, coordinated by volumes and size. Little trinkets from missions that he had collected arrayed themselves proudly on a shelf above the desk. Much to your delight, you recognized little treasures you had given him over the years.

A few foreign-looking flowers you had discovered on missions lay neatly on a kerchief, dried and displayed like medals; oddly shaped rocks with pearly hues of blue and green that you had deemed unique; a shard of a split kyber crystal resided mysteriously in a small jar. You remembered fondly the time you and he had discovered it on a mission when you were sent to infiltrate a corrupted trade federation base.

The cool metal of the door’s keypad sent chills up your arm. You let the door skim open enough to reveal yourself and see into the main room. Obi-Wan was standing by the window, the blue and white lights from the ongoing traffic of ships reflected upon his features. His hair was no longer disheveled. It was evident he had run his hands through it several times since he had left you to change.

“Obi, I’m dressed,” You said, and presently cleared your throat. Your voice had come out far raspier than you had expected as your drowsiness gleaned into your speech.

He turned at the sound of your voice. A solemn expression had made its way back into his features in the last few minutes; his eyes seemed somewhat dimmed by his thoughts, whatever they were. He appeared to dismiss them as he made his way to you, offering his arm to lead you safely back to his bed.

He shoved the covers aside further to allow you to easily slide under them without applying pressure to your leg. Then he helped you sit down on the bed and ease your way into lying down (which, apparently, required much more movement than you’d previously considered). Attentively, he reached over you and pulled the covers over your body.

“You should be careful not to move around too much. I don’t want you bleeding again, or becoming sorer.” He said. He checked the weight of the duvet, making sure it wasn’t too heavy to rest atop your inflamed abrasions.

You nodded with a tired attempt at a smile.

As he finished fiddling with the blankets, he stood upright and looked as if he was about to leave, but turned back to you. He looked troubled again. You could sense his thoughts whirling and tumbling about behind his blue eyes. When you expected him to speak, he only nodded a goodnight and made for the door.

“Obi-Wan.”

He halted and met your gaze. The same disturbed look remained there, darkening his handsome features. You wanted to console his needless worrying.

“I’m alright.” You assured.

His gaze fell to the panel of the door as he spoke. “But you nearly weren’t, (Y/n). What would have happened then?”

“I—I am, though, Obi. I’m here, aren’t I? And doing much better, thanks to you and Ani.”

A moment of silence followed your reply as he thought mutedly. In his composure, you sensed relief and yet something much more troublesome. It wasn’t the frustration for the council, for he had begun to overcome that already. It was something further, entangled within his heart. It tugged at your soul. But it was revealed only to him.

“That was not the point I was trying to make.”

“I know that. But I didn’t die, Obi-Wan. We shouldn’t dwell on what could have been.” You replied, now aware that the hidden thought was his realization that you could have perished. You wished he wouldn’t burden himself with that, especially since the outcome had proved to be different. You were nothing to trifle over. “It is dangerous for us to—“

He turned to you suddenly, eyes earnest and pleading, his fingers mingling with each other as he treaded cautiously with his words. “No, (Y/n). What if you had been killed out there, all alone, with no one with you? What if you had suffered far worse from these injuries? If you hadn’t been helped? What would I have done?”

Your heart fluttered as he began to admit his connection to you. It seemed perhaps the reality of your duties had shone a light upon his emotions, on his very apparent attachment.

You corrected yourself; he didn’t mean it that way. He couldn’t have. It would be hard for anyone to lose a friend, especially a fellow Jedi. You began to reiterate what you said before, hopeful to assuage his discomfort.

“Obi, we mustn’t let our worries cloud our judgment. You can’t think of what might have happened. It didn’t happen that way and it won’t – I’m safe, now.”

As he spoke again, he neared your side of the bed.

“Yes, but what of the next mission? Who’s to say you will be safe then?”

“I’m a Jedi, Obi-Wan—we both are. This is our life, it’s the way things are. It isn’t in the cards for us to be able to choose life over death. I take the missions I’m given without question. You know that’s the way it is; the same truth holds for you. We aren’t promised tomorrow, especially not as Jedi. It is the same for all of us.”

He only gave you a wearied smile as he stood beside you. His hand found a place to rest on top of yours.

“My dear (Y/n), do you not know what I am trying to say?” He chuckled and his glance fell away in a shy manner. He looked at your hand that he held and covered it with his other, grasping it tenderly.

A mixture of hope and oblivion revealed itself in your expression as he looked back up at you.

“I confess I could not live a day in this galaxy without you. I don’t know what I would have done had you not survived, had Anakin and I not been able to help you. I-I...I cannot bear the thought of it.”

His words fell upon your heart with sweet excellence. And amongst the blood, the wounds, and the worry, you found yourself contented with it all. He was telling you he loved you in the best way he could, without outwardly defying the code, defying the only thing you both lived by. You pressed your mind for words, trying to formulate some sentence that would confirm your feelings for him as well. You opened your mouth, but no words came forth from your tongue. Your joy was so sincere that nothing seemed to fit into language.

Knowing this, he simply reached forward and touched his thumb to your chin. A different smile now graced his lips—one of calm ecstasy. He put his hand back over yours and relished in your glance.

For a tender moment, all words and emotions seemed to be revealed to both of you, pouring freely out from each other’s hearts. But it had to end; the morning was drawing nearer and a good night’s rest was still beckoning for your submission. Noticing this, he released his grip on your hand.

“Goodnight, (Y/n). Get some rest.” His voice was the softest you had ever heard it.

“Goodnight, Obi.” You offered him the most radiant smile you had given that night, even as sleep dragged at your waking consciousness. As he neared the door, another thought drove itself from your lips.

“And Obi?”

He turned to you once again, his expression nearly freed of his burdens.

“Thank you.”

He only beamed. But in that smile were a thousand words and dreams for you, a simple expression of politeness would not suffice the depth of his attachment to you.

His footsteps faded and the lights flicked off. The last of the light from the main room faded as the door wooshed shut. The muffled hum of Coruscant traffic lulled you to sleep that night, drowning out the echoes of your harrowing experience.

You dreamt of his silhouette in the doorway and the words he had spoken. In your dream, your own attachment to the Jedi Master became more and more evident. The realization that something so blissful and pure could be against the code tainted your dream with a distant bitterness. Melancholia wove itself into your heart, but your body relished in the rejuvenation of such a deep slumber.

Obi-Wan prepared himself to sleep on the couch, a peaceful bliss encumbering his spirit. He slid off his boots and undid his belt. Lying back with an arm propped above his head, he covered himself with a thin blanket, thinking tenderly of the woman slumbering in his room. But bitterness swept into that fond feeling, just as it had infiltrated the dream you were beginning to experience.

He now realized it could never be.

You would always have to be contented with glances full of yearning and distant dreams of a forbidden love, of a quieter, safe life beyond your grasp. Now, whenever he looked at you, he would be reminded of a love that could not grow; a love that had to be smothered before it sprouted.

When you went on missions, you would have to force yourselves to let go of your fear of loss, to forgo your attachments, and be prepared to lose each other and not lose yourselves to grief and pain. Anything you ever shared in a loving way would have to be harbored in secret. And secrets quickly turn to lies, and with lies, succeeded deception. His heart twisted in turmoil as he realized it seemed dauntingly impossible to ever truly love you as he wished.

Obi-Wan turned over on his side and became engrossed in the reflected lights of traffic that danced across the floor. He silenced his emotions and began planning what he would do for you the next day. First, he must prepare a safe transport to take you to the infirmary. He was well aware his bandages offered a limited remedy. After he could be certain you were being looked after, he would ensure you were comfortable for the rest of the day after he and Anakin checked your ship and quarters for trackers. If they remained, he would offer you his room again, if they could not be dealt with immediately. He also made a mental note to speak with the other members of the council about the matter since he and Anakin had been the only ones knowledgeable of the mission’s outcome.

With these humming thoughts, he drifted to sleep.

In the night, your dreams seemed to become entwined by the Force. The love you two shared silently seemed encouraged that night in the Force’s doing; you both dreamed of each other and what might be in the future and what the code dictated it could not be. But in slumber, your souls seemed to meet and embellish those feelings.

With those dreams you shared, you both began to wonder if, perhaps, the Force was not so bound by codes as it seemed. Perhaps, amongst the desire to stay loyal to the Light, there was a will to love that encouraged such allegiance. Deep within your hearts, you dared to hope it was so.

Perhaps the future was not so dictated to despair after all.

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