Star Wars fic: Bad Moon Rising (2)
Apr. 5th, 2012 02:37 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bedlamsbardChapter One, or here on the AO3.
Note: Quinlan and Aayla's amnesia backstory from the Star Wars: Republic comics is not being used here.
The decision was taken out of her hands a few days later. Obi-Wan had gone to the Senate Building to collect Anakin from the Chancellor’s office, where she was forced to endure fifteen minutes of well-meaning questions about Anakin’s education at the Jedi Temple and why it was that they weren’t being given more high-risk assignments before Palpatine suddenly and mysteriously recalled an urgent appointment elsewhere and shuttled them back out into the hallway. By then Obi-Wan had the beginnings of the utterly inexplicable headache that seemed to crop up whenever she was in the Supreme Chancellor’s presence for more than a few minutes; she let Anakin chatter on as they made their way through the building’s twisting halls to the corridor they’d arranged to meet Padmé in when she finished with her committee meeting. They were in the lift when Anakin paused mid-sentence to look at her, his brow wrinkling in concern.
“Master, are you all right?”
Obi-Wan massaged her brow. Away from the Chancellor and his unwelcome intrusion into Anakin’s life, the headache was starting to fade – the same way it always did, although its appearance was a regular companion of her visits with Palpatine, which was why she’d been glad when Anakin had become old enough that he was capable of going to the Senate Building without her accompaniment. Jedi Knight or not, one couldn’t exactly tell the Supreme Chancellor of the Galactic Republic to stay away from their Padawan, and the one time she’d tried to bring up the inappropriateness of the relationship to Anakin, they’d gotten into a screaming fight that had culminated in Anakin storming out of the Temple and Obi-Wan having to haul him out of an illegal drag race in one of Coruscant’s less desirable sectors when she finally tracked him down six hours later. It had not been one of her more shining moments, and both she and Anakin had been so embarrassed by it that the subject had never come up since.
“I’m fine,” she told Anakin, tucking her hands into her sleeves. “What did you and the Supreme Chancellor talk about that?”
“Derith Nahar,” Anakin said promptly, and at Obi-Wan’s wince, added quickly, “Don’t worry, I didn’t tell him about the thing. I didn’t think you’d appreciate that.”
“No,” Obi-Wan said with relief. “Thank you.” Because the last thing she needed was the Supreme Chancellor to hear about getting strung up and proposed to by a group of particularly irate pirates.
Anakin grinned comfortably at her. “Have you told Padmé about that?”
“My young Padawan, we’re lucky I told the Council about it. Why in the galaxy would I tell Senator Amidala?”
“Because it’s funny.”
“Not at the time,” Obi-Wan said firmly. “And not for some time.”
They emerged from the elevator onto a red-carpeted hallway that looked exactly the same as the last one they’d been in, except that the statues in the nooks lining it were different. Obi-Wan and Anakin proceeded down it, past senatorial aides and protocol droids, and came to a stop in front of a pair of closed double doors. Anakin immediately leaned against the wall opposite, watching the doors like a hawk sighting prey.
“Did she say anything about me?” he asked Obi-Wan anxiously.
“Anakin, I know that this will come as a shock to you, but not every conversation I have is actually about you.”
He shrugged this off. “But did she?”
Obi-Wan dropped her head into her hands and groaned loudly.
“What?” Anakin said. “What did I say?”
“She was also, not that it should be any concern of yours, my very young Padawan, with a man,” Obi-Wan said.
“Who?” he demanded immediately. “Do we know him? Is he another Jedi? Is he another Senator?”
“Anakin,” Obi-Wan reminded him, “your life is sworn to the Jedi Order. You aren’t permitted to have romantic rivals.”
He shrugged. Obi-Wan wondered, not for the first time, what in the universe the Jedi Council had been drinking when they’d decided to give her a Padawan and why they hadn’t been kind enough to share.
Horrifying as this line of conversation was, Obi-Wan would still have preferred to continue it rather than what came next. She turned her head to respond to Anakin and then stopped, all the hair rising on the back of her neck and on her arms beneath her robes as the Force…shivered. There was no better word for it. It was as if she was a spider and the Force was her web and something, someone had trod on it, disturbing the delicate balance that Obi-Wan was accustomed to.
Anakin felt it too. His lips parted a little in confusion as he reached for his lightsaber, automatic reaction to something that he could tell distressed them both. Obi-Wan resisted the urge to do the same, pushing Anakin’s hand away from his weapon instead. She’d felt this before – couldn’t say when, couldn’t say where, but it was so terrifyingly familiar that it was as if she’d been plunged back into her old nightmares. But she couldn’t say what it was.
For a moment it threatened to overwhelm her, and then it was gone as quickly as it had come. Obi-Wan’s hand was still on Anakin’s arm, and she could feel the tension in him as he stared wild-eyed around the hall, the muscle flexing beneath her palm.
“Master?” he demanded. “What was that?”
“I don’t know,” Obi-Wan admitted, reaching out with the Force to find it again. But it was gone now, locked away behind someone else’s mental shields, and try as she could, she couldn’t sense it. She opened her eyes to find Anakin staring at her, his fingers still twitching towards his lightsaber.
“Ah, Master Kenobi!”
Obi-Wan let her hand drop from Anakin’s arm, turning slowly to look at the group approaching from around a corner. “Oh, no,” she muttered.
“Master?” Anakin questioned.
Count Dooku of Serenno was at the head of the group, followed by the Trade Federation’s representative and the Geonosian Senator, along with their aides and a small flock of droids. Lott Dod, recognizing Obi-Wan, glared; the Geonosian Senator blinked at them without interest. Dooku stepped away from them, smiling at Obi-Wan like a benevolent grandfather.
“Master Kenobi,” he repeated. “What a wonderful coincidence; I’ve been hoping that we would have a chance to meet while I was on Coruscant.”
Obi-Wan drew herself up, letting the Force settle around her like a second cloak and knowing that Dooku, who had been a Jedi Master up until six years ago, would sense it as well. “Count Dooku,” she said coldly. “I’m afraid I have nothing to say to you.”
The Count looked more amused than anything else. “We have someone in common, Master Kenobi,” he said. “Your former master Qui-Gon Jinn was once my Padawan, as you were his –”
“And you dishonored his memory when you blamed the Order for his death,” Obi-Wan said. She tucked her hands into her sleeves, the part of her that was always aware of Anakin noting quietly that he was doing the same, perfectly mirroring her pose from his position just behind her right shoulder.
He raised an eyebrow. “Holding grudges, Master Kenobi? That doesn’t suit a Jedi Knight.”
It didn’t. Obi-Wan had tried to make herself not care, to accept what Dooku had done and move on from it, but it was the implied insult to Qui-Gon that stung her, not the insult to the Order. She’d heard far worse things said about the Order in the years that she’d been a Jedi. She was damned if she would say as much, though.
“It grieves me that you would make allegations about Qui-Gon’s death without even waiting to hear the facts,” she said eventually. “I was, after all, there. There was nothing that the Order could have done.”
“And the fact that you survived and avenged your Master should release them from any responsibility?”
“What I did was not vengeance!” Obi-Wan said, wincing at the harshness in her voice. She gripped her forearms inside her sleeves, trying to calm herself. Anakin, sensing her dismay, gave her a worried look.
“Master Kenobi said that she didn’t want to talk to you,” he spoke up. “I think you should leave now, Count Dooku.”
Dooku turned an amused gaze on him. “You must be the infamous Anakin Skywalker,” he said. “Qui-Gon spoke of you to me once, just before he died. He was quite fascinated by you.”
“I get that a lot,” Anakin snapped.
“You must have been considerably more precocious as a child, as I fail to see the attraction,” Dooku observed.
Obi-Wan felt the flare of Anakin’s anger in the Force and stepped in before he said something that he’d regret. “Is there something you want to say to me, Count?”
“Yes, actually,” the Count said, the heady force of his gaze swinging back to her. Obi-Wan could feel the strength behind his eyes, held in check by a lifetime’s Jedi training. “But here is neither the time nor the place. Would you be averse to meeting at a later date? Say, perhaps, lunch?”
“I would, actually,” Obi-Wan said. “I don’t believe we have anything to discuss.”
“I would disagree with that statement,” Dooku observed. “I believe we have mutual interests, Master Kenobi. Shall we meet to discuss them? I will,” he added, with something like a smirk lingering around his lips, “give you time to inform the Jedi Council of this, so you can go running to them if you desire.”
Obi-Wan pressed her lips together tightly and didn’t say anything.
Dooku smiled. “I’ll be in touch, Master Kenobi,” he said as the doors to the committee room opened. “Oh – and tell Master Tholme that if he wishes to speak to me, he can do so himself rather than having his creatures lurk in the street outside my apartments.”
Behind him, Obi-Wan heard Lott Dod say, “Ah, Senator Clovis – and Senator Amidala, what an unexpected…pleasure.”
“Senator Dod,” Padmé said politely. “How nice to see you again.”
Dooku stepped back from Obi-Wan. “Another time, Master Kenobi,” he said, turning away. “Senator Clovis, how good of you to join us.”
They swept off down the hall, Dooku’s entourage following in his wake as the rest of Padmé’s committee dissipated in various directions. Padmé crossed to Obi-Wan and Anakin, giving Dooku a curious glance as he left.
“What was that about?”
“Nothing good,” Obi-Wan said.
“Hi, Padmé,” Anakin said, any interest he’d had in Dooku utterly redirected by Padmé’s arrival.
She smiled at him. “Hello, Ani. How have you been?”
They began to walk back towards the lift, Obi-Wan and Anakin naturally falling into position on either side of Padmé. Anakin might have been distracted, but Obi-Wan was mentally reeling; she wanted nothing more than to find a quiet corner and comm the Council, or at least Master Tholme, the Jedi spymaster. It might have been nothing – probably was nothing, Dooku had been Qui-Gon’s Master and Qui-Gon had been Obi-Wan’s. For most Jedi that was the closest they ever got to anything like a family. Dooku might have considered Obi-Wan all that was left of Qui-Gon. Obi-Wan might have said that she had a bad feeling about it, but in fact she had nothing of the sort, just a creeping sense of unease at the oddity of the meeting. Whatever he was now, Dooku of Serenno had once been a Jedi Master; even for a Jedi Knight whose ability with the Force was as strong as Obi-Wan’s was, it was impossible to get any sense of what his intentions were when his shields were up.
Her distress was palpable enough that Anakin stopped, mid-sentence once again, and gave her a worried look. “Master, what is it?”
“It’s nothing,” Obi-Wan said, aware of Padmé’s curious gaze on them. She dragged her mind away from Dooku with a ferocious wrench and put up her mental shields more securely. Anakin wasn’t particularly sensitive to other people’s emotions except when they happened to be Obi-Wan’s, and then he had the frankly somewhat alarming tendency to get her feelings mixed up with his. They’d been working on controlling it for years, ever since Obi-Wan had figured out what was actually happening. His ability wasn’t unique, but it wasn’t common in a Padawan as old as he was.
“Who was that you were speaking to?” Padmé questioned.
“Count Dooku of Serenno,” Obi-Wan said, keeping her voice as even as she could. “He used to be a Jedi Master until he left the Order six years ago a few weeks after Qui-Gon was killed. He was later publicly critical of both the Senate and the Order, whom he blamed for the situation on Naboo –” She saw Anakin glance at Padmé, then quickly away, his cheeks coloring, “– and the circumstances of Qui-Gon’s death. Qui-Gon used to be his Padawan, you see.”
“Oh,” Padmé said. “Yes, I remember hearing about that, though at the time I had other concerns.”
“It was hugely controversial. I wasn’t paying much attention at the time either.” She had been lost in her own grief, too busy trying to figure out how to teach a Padawan instead of be one to pay any attention to a scandal that had, she’d learned only later, had a great deal to do with her.
Anakin glanced down at the floor. “What does he want with us?”
“I don’t know,” Obi-Wan said. “But I have a bad feeling about it.”
*
The carpet on the stairs muffled Obi-Wan’s bootsteps. She climbed slowly, passing several other Jedi on her way but not speaking to any of them, keeping the hood of her cloak up to hide her face, though it wasn’t as if her identity was a secret to any of them. She felt tired more than anything else, tired without any real explanation for why, as though Dooku’s reappearance had triggered all the old sorrows that she had thought she’d long since buried. It all seemed to be coming back at once, Padmé and Dooku both conjuring up the memory of Qui-Gon. It’s not like Obi-Wan had even known Dooku when he’d been a Jedi; she’d seen him once or twice with Qui-Gon, but he’d never taken any interest in her then and they’d never spoken. She hadn’t even been certain that he’d known her name, known anything about her except that she’d been Qui-Gon’s padawan. She couldn’t imagine what he wanted with her now.
She took the fifth landing, passing by a floor-length clear window bordered by two stained glass ones, and turned down the hallway to the left. She went all the way down to the end of the corridor and tapped her fingers on the right-hand door.
“It’s Obi-Wan Kenobi,” she said, the introduction unnecessary for a Jedi, and ducked inside as the door slid open, pulling her hood back from her face.
She had expected to find only Tholme and Quin here, maybe Aayla if they’d decided that the Dooku affair was appropriate for Quin’s Padawan to be aware of. No Aayla, she saw as she walked in, but instead Yoda and Mace Windu as well as Tholme and Quinlan.
Obi-Wan bowed. “Masters.”
Tholme tipped his head at an empty seat. Obi-Wan folded herself into it, looking back and forth between Yoda, Windu, and Tholme; Quinlan was leaning against the window frame, his arms crossed over his chest. He gave her an apologetic look; the only reason Obi-Wan didn’t shrug in reply was because her superiors were watching.
“Masters, I take it that your presence here is a sign that this is a matter about which I should be concerned,” she said.
“Perhaps,” Windu said. “It could be nothing more than what it seems, though Dooku’s never had a taste for sentimentality.”
“Hard to read, Dooku is,” Yoda said. “Skilled in the use of the Force, he is.”
“Masters, I take it you aren’t aware that I met Count Dooku at the Senate Building today?” Obi-Wan said.
“No,” Tholme said, leaning forward. “When? Quinlan didn’t mention this.”
“Just a few hours ago. Anakin and I were at the Senate Building waiting for Senator Amidala of Naboo, and we ran into Dooku there.” She told them quickly what had passed, not that there was much to tell.
“This is a troubling development,” Windu said, steepling his palms.
“Know of Dooku’s retirement, do you?” asked Yoda.
“Only the rumors, Master,” Obi-Wan said. “I know that he left the Order after Qui-Gon’s death on Naboo to resume his birthright as the hereditary count of Serenno and that afterwards he spoke out publicly against both the Senate and the Order. He blamed the Senate for not supporting Naboo and the Order for letting the Jedi grow weak. But since then he’s been quiet.”
“Know, do you, that offered to become your Master after Qui-Gon’s death, he did?”
Obi-Wan blinked. “No, I didn’t.”
“Before your knighthood decided, this was. For Master Qui-Gon, his first thought was; his second for Qui-Gon’s Padawan. Tried to contact you, he did, but kept from you this was. Too many distractions you could not have.”
“By the time we returned to Coruscant, Dooku had already made the decision to leave the Jedi,” Windu said. “He was summoned before the Council to explain his resignation, but he never appeared. Until now he’s had no further contact with anyone in the Order.”
“So why me?” Obi-Wan asked. “Why now?”
“Have something to do with the new Senate bills, it may,” Yoda offered after a fraught pause. “Perhaps only for convenience or sentiment are you.”
“The new Senate bills,” Obi-Wan said slowly, trying to remember what they were. At any point in time there were thousands of bills winding their torturous way through the Senate, committee after committee working their way through them and slowly winnowing them down to the handful that would, in several years time, be presented to the entirety of the Senate. At best estimate, any bill introduced this season would make its way before the whole Senate in three or four years. The first votes would begin within the week.
“The Planetary Sovereignty Act?” she wagered after a moment’s thought. “Or the Military Creation Act?”
There were any number of bills that might catch the attention of a relatively new planetary leader, especially one with a background in the Jedi Order, but normally it took so long to shepherd a bill through the Senate that it seemed unthinkable anyone who hadn’t sponsored it would get involved this early.
“Not known yet, it is,” Yoda said serenely. “Meet with Count Dooku you will. Discern his purpose on Coruscant.”
Obi-Wan inclined her head. “Yes, Masters.”
She took her leave, Quinlan following her out after a glance back at the others to make sure that he had been dismissed as well. They fell into step together on their way down the corridor.
“Whatever Dooku said really bothered you, didn’t it?” Quin asked.
“It wasn’t his words, precisely,” Obi-Wan said; those had been innocuous enough. “It was just a feeling – something Anakin and I both felt in the Force before he arrived.” She swept a hand over her face. “Maybe I’m just paranoid.”
“You just said that your Padawan felt it too,” he pointed out. “What was it?”
“I don’t know. It felt…familiar. As if I’d felt its like before. Not that that means anything,” she added quickly. “I’ve been an active Jedi for more than fifteen years now. I’ve felt any number of odd things in the Force.”
“Including a Sith Lord,” Quin said, his voice very mild.
“I think the Jedi Council would have noticed if there was a Sith Lord in the Senate,” Obi-Wan said pointedly. “I think you’ve been hit in the head one too many times, Quinlan.”
“I know my history, Obi-Wan. Sith always come in twos.”
Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. “And I thought I was paranoid, Quin. No, I don’t believe it’s another Sith; I’m sure the Council would be aware of it then. It may not even have anything to do with Count Dooku; there are thousands of beings in the Senate Building at any given time.”
Quin tucked his thumbs into his belt. “Do you want me to go with you to talk to Dooku?”
“What, and have him get even more suspicious because I’ve brought another Jedi Knight with me, and Master Tholme’s protégée at that? No, I have it quite under control. And Anakin will come with me, of course.”
He frowned. “Not that you aren’t a good Jedi, Obi-Wan, but –”
“There’s no indication that Dooku means to do anything aggressive against the Jedi,” Obi-Wan reminded him. “I am a Jedi Knight, Quin. I have been for quite some time now. I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself and my Padawan. Besides, we’re on Coruscant. It’s not exactly the Outer Rim.”
“All right, I know,” Quinlan said quickly. “There’s just something weird going on here – I can feel it, Tholme can – why do you think Windu and Yoda showed up?”
Obi-Wan passed her hand over her face. “I’ll think about it. Blast it, I was hoping that we’d have some downtime, not this…whatever this is.”
He elbowed her companionably. “At least you have your pretty senator to keep you distracted.”
“You pervert,” Obi-Wan said, shaking her head.
“I don’t understand how you always get missions that involve gorgeous women hanging all over you and I get ones with smugglers who think bathing is optional,” he sighed.
“Just lucky, I guess. Although I hope you’re not counting Jirra the Hutt among them, because if you are, well, I’m not going to judge what you’re into, Quin, but –”
“Still your filthy tongue, Kenobi! She’s all yours!”
Their laughter drew curious glances from some of the other passing Jedi. Quinlan grinned happily at Obi-Wan. “Feel better?”
“Yes,” Obi-Wan admitted. “Want to spar?”
“Want to do something less likely to end in bruises?” He accompanied this with a faint mental whisper that made his intentions clear. “It’ll take your mind off Dooku. Well, I hope it will, anyway –”
“If we have sex in my apartment,” Obi-Wan said, “Anakin will pick up on it. And then he’ll throw a fit.”
“Mine, then. Aayla knows when to take a hint.”
“If we have sex anywhere in the Temple or the grounds while Anakin is in the Temple, he’ll pick up on it,” Obi-Wan said. “Don’t ask me how I know this. It’s not worth it.”
“So I’ll get Aayla to round up the senior Padawans in the Temple right now and they can take Skywalker out into the city while we have sex in my apartment,” Quinlan said practically. “If your Padawan has something against sex, Obi-Wan, he really has to get over it. I’m surprised his head hasn’t exploded already; Temple’s not exactly short on people getting it on, even once you weed out the celibates and the ascetics.”
“It’s not everyone,” Obi-Wan said, wincing. “It’s just me. And it’s not that he has anything against it, really, he’s just extremely sensitive to me. It’s been very useful on occasion.”
“Council know about this?” Quin asked, taking his comlink off his belt.
“It’s not unusual for Padawans to be extremely sensitive to their Masters,” Obi-Wan pointed out. “And Anakin’s stronger than most Padawans – stronger than most Knights, for that matter, though less skilled. And we’ve been working on it.”
Quinlan shrugged. “Glad I’m not the one with the prodigy.” He thumbed on his comlink. “Hey, Aayla, any interest in distracting Anakin Skywalker for a few hours? Preferably off Temple grounds? You can see who else is planetside right now, make an excursion out of it.”
“Why do I have the feeling I shouldn’t tell him why if he asks?” Aayla responded, sounding amused.
“Because Master Kenobi has to live with him. So are you up for it?”
“All right,” she said agreeably. “I think Sian Jeisel and Xiaan Amersu are on-planet, and I know Nahdar Vebb is here since Master Fisto is – hmm, I think I saw Master Unduli, so Barriss Offee might be here too, but she’s a little young…” She trailed off thoughtfully.
“Have fun,” Quin said cheerfully. “Come home before morning. Don’t disgrace the Order. Let me know when you’ve left the grounds with Skywalker.” He keyed his comlink off after Aayla’s affirmative.
Obi-Wan shook her head, grinning. “You’re unbelievable.”
“Hey, I’m just trying to be a good friend.”
“And the fact that you get to have sex with me doesn’t have anything to do with it?”
“Doesn’t hurt,” Quinlan grinned. “Unlike acrobatics in the dark while dodging laser bolts.”
Obi-Wan poked a finger into his chest. “Remember, Vos, you were right there next to me. And don’t pretend you don’t enjoy it.”
“Makes me feel all manly,” he grins. “What’s your excuse?”
“Who says I need one?” The Force gave her a split-second’s warning; she was already taking her comlink off her belt when it buzzed. “Anakin.”
“Hi, Master. Aayla Secura and some of the other Padawans are going out into the city, is it all right if I go too?” He sounded a little anxious; he’d been out of the Temple more than he’d been in it today, considering that he’d had tea with the Chancellor and dinner with Senator Amidala.
“Just don’t do anything illegal,” Obi-Wan said. “No racing.”
“What if it’s legal?”
“Anakin. No racing. And nothing you’re going to regret in the morning; we’re running simulations tomorrow and while at some point I’m going to make you do that while you’re hungover, I don’t want it to be right now.”
Even at a distance, she could sense him rolling his eyes. “Yes, Master,” he parroted obediently.
She felt his mind slide comfortably and familiarly against hers, probably not even aware he was doing it, and Obi-Wan very clearly and firmly formulated the thought, Anakin, boundaries. In return she got a murmur of apology as he backed off.
“See?” Quinlan said as she replaced the comlink on her belt. “All taken care of.”
“Unless this group of masterless Padawans we’ve just set loose manages to burn down half the city,” Obi-Wan said, but she was smiling.
*
Obi-Wan woke with a start to the mental equivalent of Anakin battering on her bedroom door and shouting her name. She could sense him in her room even before she opened her eyes to find him sitting on the foot of her bed, looking solemnly at her. He was barefoot, wearing only his undershirt over his trousers; Obi-Wan didn’t need to touch his mind to know that he was quite drunk.
She scrubbed a hand over her eyes, sitting up. “Anakin. What is it?”
“You have the most amazing breasts in the Order,” he told her, though thankfully his gaze was on her face, not her chest.
“Flattering, but hardly accurate,” Obi-Wan said, wondering what this was leading up to and extremely relieved that she was sleeping in a nightshirt, not just her skin – not a habit she’d ever had the leisure to pick up, fortunately.
“We voted,” he said very seriously. “Master Ti’s are really nice, and so are Master Unduli’s – or at least that’s what Bariss says, anyway – and Master Saa’s are great, but they don’t really count because she’s a shapeshifter.”
Obi-Wan put her hand over her eyes. Anakin probably wouldn’t appreciate it if she laughed right now. “And I’m sure you’ve all studied this in great detail.”
“Well, it can’t be Republic laws and xenobiology all the time, Master,” Anakin said, inching slowly up the bed towards her. “Why, who do you think has nicer breasts?”
“You have no idea how much you’re going to regret this conversation once you sober up,” Obi-Wan sighed.
“I mean, you’ve probably seen more than I have.”
Obi-Wan pinched the bridge of her nose between two fingers. “Anakin, did you wake me up just to talk about breasts or was there something else?”
Anakin was close enough to touch now. “You’re really pretty,” he told her, like a secret shared just between the two of them. “I really want to –”
“Anakin, go to bed,” Obi-Wan said hastily, layering compulsion into her voice. “Your own bed. And sleep it off.”
He blinked at her. “I’m going to my bed to sleep it off,” he said, as if it had been his idea all along, then got off her bed and wandered back out, the door sliding shut behind him.
Obi-Wan put her hand over her face, pulling her knees up to her chest and leaning on them. She was fairly certain she’d never had any conversations with Qui-Gon that had been remotely similar, though she knew she’d gotten drunk around him more than once.
The unvoiced thought had been at the forefront of Anakin’s mind. Obi-Wan couldn’t have missed it if she’d wanted to, not with the bond between them open and all Anakin’s barriers against her down.
I really want to kiss you right now.
*
tbc
Note: Quinlan and Aayla's amnesia backstory from the Star Wars: Republic comics is not being used here.
The decision was taken out of her hands a few days later. Obi-Wan had gone to the Senate Building to collect Anakin from the Chancellor’s office, where she was forced to endure fifteen minutes of well-meaning questions about Anakin’s education at the Jedi Temple and why it was that they weren’t being given more high-risk assignments before Palpatine suddenly and mysteriously recalled an urgent appointment elsewhere and shuttled them back out into the hallway. By then Obi-Wan had the beginnings of the utterly inexplicable headache that seemed to crop up whenever she was in the Supreme Chancellor’s presence for more than a few minutes; she let Anakin chatter on as they made their way through the building’s twisting halls to the corridor they’d arranged to meet Padmé in when she finished with her committee meeting. They were in the lift when Anakin paused mid-sentence to look at her, his brow wrinkling in concern.
“Master, are you all right?”
Obi-Wan massaged her brow. Away from the Chancellor and his unwelcome intrusion into Anakin’s life, the headache was starting to fade – the same way it always did, although its appearance was a regular companion of her visits with Palpatine, which was why she’d been glad when Anakin had become old enough that he was capable of going to the Senate Building without her accompaniment. Jedi Knight or not, one couldn’t exactly tell the Supreme Chancellor of the Galactic Republic to stay away from their Padawan, and the one time she’d tried to bring up the inappropriateness of the relationship to Anakin, they’d gotten into a screaming fight that had culminated in Anakin storming out of the Temple and Obi-Wan having to haul him out of an illegal drag race in one of Coruscant’s less desirable sectors when she finally tracked him down six hours later. It had not been one of her more shining moments, and both she and Anakin had been so embarrassed by it that the subject had never come up since.
“I’m fine,” she told Anakin, tucking her hands into her sleeves. “What did you and the Supreme Chancellor talk about that?”
“Derith Nahar,” Anakin said promptly, and at Obi-Wan’s wince, added quickly, “Don’t worry, I didn’t tell him about the thing. I didn’t think you’d appreciate that.”
“No,” Obi-Wan said with relief. “Thank you.” Because the last thing she needed was the Supreme Chancellor to hear about getting strung up and proposed to by a group of particularly irate pirates.
Anakin grinned comfortably at her. “Have you told Padmé about that?”
“My young Padawan, we’re lucky I told the Council about it. Why in the galaxy would I tell Senator Amidala?”
“Because it’s funny.”
“Not at the time,” Obi-Wan said firmly. “And not for some time.”
They emerged from the elevator onto a red-carpeted hallway that looked exactly the same as the last one they’d been in, except that the statues in the nooks lining it were different. Obi-Wan and Anakin proceeded down it, past senatorial aides and protocol droids, and came to a stop in front of a pair of closed double doors. Anakin immediately leaned against the wall opposite, watching the doors like a hawk sighting prey.
“Did she say anything about me?” he asked Obi-Wan anxiously.
“Anakin, I know that this will come as a shock to you, but not every conversation I have is actually about you.”
He shrugged this off. “But did she?”
Obi-Wan dropped her head into her hands and groaned loudly.
“What?” Anakin said. “What did I say?”
“She was also, not that it should be any concern of yours, my very young Padawan, with a man,” Obi-Wan said.
“Who?” he demanded immediately. “Do we know him? Is he another Jedi? Is he another Senator?”
“Anakin,” Obi-Wan reminded him, “your life is sworn to the Jedi Order. You aren’t permitted to have romantic rivals.”
He shrugged. Obi-Wan wondered, not for the first time, what in the universe the Jedi Council had been drinking when they’d decided to give her a Padawan and why they hadn’t been kind enough to share.
Horrifying as this line of conversation was, Obi-Wan would still have preferred to continue it rather than what came next. She turned her head to respond to Anakin and then stopped, all the hair rising on the back of her neck and on her arms beneath her robes as the Force…shivered. There was no better word for it. It was as if she was a spider and the Force was her web and something, someone had trod on it, disturbing the delicate balance that Obi-Wan was accustomed to.
Anakin felt it too. His lips parted a little in confusion as he reached for his lightsaber, automatic reaction to something that he could tell distressed them both. Obi-Wan resisted the urge to do the same, pushing Anakin’s hand away from his weapon instead. She’d felt this before – couldn’t say when, couldn’t say where, but it was so terrifyingly familiar that it was as if she’d been plunged back into her old nightmares. But she couldn’t say what it was.
For a moment it threatened to overwhelm her, and then it was gone as quickly as it had come. Obi-Wan’s hand was still on Anakin’s arm, and she could feel the tension in him as he stared wild-eyed around the hall, the muscle flexing beneath her palm.
“Master?” he demanded. “What was that?”
“I don’t know,” Obi-Wan admitted, reaching out with the Force to find it again. But it was gone now, locked away behind someone else’s mental shields, and try as she could, she couldn’t sense it. She opened her eyes to find Anakin staring at her, his fingers still twitching towards his lightsaber.
“Ah, Master Kenobi!”
Obi-Wan let her hand drop from Anakin’s arm, turning slowly to look at the group approaching from around a corner. “Oh, no,” she muttered.
“Master?” Anakin questioned.
Count Dooku of Serenno was at the head of the group, followed by the Trade Federation’s representative and the Geonosian Senator, along with their aides and a small flock of droids. Lott Dod, recognizing Obi-Wan, glared; the Geonosian Senator blinked at them without interest. Dooku stepped away from them, smiling at Obi-Wan like a benevolent grandfather.
“Master Kenobi,” he repeated. “What a wonderful coincidence; I’ve been hoping that we would have a chance to meet while I was on Coruscant.”
Obi-Wan drew herself up, letting the Force settle around her like a second cloak and knowing that Dooku, who had been a Jedi Master up until six years ago, would sense it as well. “Count Dooku,” she said coldly. “I’m afraid I have nothing to say to you.”
The Count looked more amused than anything else. “We have someone in common, Master Kenobi,” he said. “Your former master Qui-Gon Jinn was once my Padawan, as you were his –”
“And you dishonored his memory when you blamed the Order for his death,” Obi-Wan said. She tucked her hands into her sleeves, the part of her that was always aware of Anakin noting quietly that he was doing the same, perfectly mirroring her pose from his position just behind her right shoulder.
He raised an eyebrow. “Holding grudges, Master Kenobi? That doesn’t suit a Jedi Knight.”
It didn’t. Obi-Wan had tried to make herself not care, to accept what Dooku had done and move on from it, but it was the implied insult to Qui-Gon that stung her, not the insult to the Order. She’d heard far worse things said about the Order in the years that she’d been a Jedi. She was damned if she would say as much, though.
“It grieves me that you would make allegations about Qui-Gon’s death without even waiting to hear the facts,” she said eventually. “I was, after all, there. There was nothing that the Order could have done.”
“And the fact that you survived and avenged your Master should release them from any responsibility?”
“What I did was not vengeance!” Obi-Wan said, wincing at the harshness in her voice. She gripped her forearms inside her sleeves, trying to calm herself. Anakin, sensing her dismay, gave her a worried look.
“Master Kenobi said that she didn’t want to talk to you,” he spoke up. “I think you should leave now, Count Dooku.”
Dooku turned an amused gaze on him. “You must be the infamous Anakin Skywalker,” he said. “Qui-Gon spoke of you to me once, just before he died. He was quite fascinated by you.”
“I get that a lot,” Anakin snapped.
“You must have been considerably more precocious as a child, as I fail to see the attraction,” Dooku observed.
Obi-Wan felt the flare of Anakin’s anger in the Force and stepped in before he said something that he’d regret. “Is there something you want to say to me, Count?”
“Yes, actually,” the Count said, the heady force of his gaze swinging back to her. Obi-Wan could feel the strength behind his eyes, held in check by a lifetime’s Jedi training. “But here is neither the time nor the place. Would you be averse to meeting at a later date? Say, perhaps, lunch?”
“I would, actually,” Obi-Wan said. “I don’t believe we have anything to discuss.”
“I would disagree with that statement,” Dooku observed. “I believe we have mutual interests, Master Kenobi. Shall we meet to discuss them? I will,” he added, with something like a smirk lingering around his lips, “give you time to inform the Jedi Council of this, so you can go running to them if you desire.”
Obi-Wan pressed her lips together tightly and didn’t say anything.
Dooku smiled. “I’ll be in touch, Master Kenobi,” he said as the doors to the committee room opened. “Oh – and tell Master Tholme that if he wishes to speak to me, he can do so himself rather than having his creatures lurk in the street outside my apartments.”
Behind him, Obi-Wan heard Lott Dod say, “Ah, Senator Clovis – and Senator Amidala, what an unexpected…pleasure.”
“Senator Dod,” Padmé said politely. “How nice to see you again.”
Dooku stepped back from Obi-Wan. “Another time, Master Kenobi,” he said, turning away. “Senator Clovis, how good of you to join us.”
They swept off down the hall, Dooku’s entourage following in his wake as the rest of Padmé’s committee dissipated in various directions. Padmé crossed to Obi-Wan and Anakin, giving Dooku a curious glance as he left.
“What was that about?”
“Nothing good,” Obi-Wan said.
“Hi, Padmé,” Anakin said, any interest he’d had in Dooku utterly redirected by Padmé’s arrival.
She smiled at him. “Hello, Ani. How have you been?”
They began to walk back towards the lift, Obi-Wan and Anakin naturally falling into position on either side of Padmé. Anakin might have been distracted, but Obi-Wan was mentally reeling; she wanted nothing more than to find a quiet corner and comm the Council, or at least Master Tholme, the Jedi spymaster. It might have been nothing – probably was nothing, Dooku had been Qui-Gon’s Master and Qui-Gon had been Obi-Wan’s. For most Jedi that was the closest they ever got to anything like a family. Dooku might have considered Obi-Wan all that was left of Qui-Gon. Obi-Wan might have said that she had a bad feeling about it, but in fact she had nothing of the sort, just a creeping sense of unease at the oddity of the meeting. Whatever he was now, Dooku of Serenno had once been a Jedi Master; even for a Jedi Knight whose ability with the Force was as strong as Obi-Wan’s was, it was impossible to get any sense of what his intentions were when his shields were up.
Her distress was palpable enough that Anakin stopped, mid-sentence once again, and gave her a worried look. “Master, what is it?”
“It’s nothing,” Obi-Wan said, aware of Padmé’s curious gaze on them. She dragged her mind away from Dooku with a ferocious wrench and put up her mental shields more securely. Anakin wasn’t particularly sensitive to other people’s emotions except when they happened to be Obi-Wan’s, and then he had the frankly somewhat alarming tendency to get her feelings mixed up with his. They’d been working on controlling it for years, ever since Obi-Wan had figured out what was actually happening. His ability wasn’t unique, but it wasn’t common in a Padawan as old as he was.
“Who was that you were speaking to?” Padmé questioned.
“Count Dooku of Serenno,” Obi-Wan said, keeping her voice as even as she could. “He used to be a Jedi Master until he left the Order six years ago a few weeks after Qui-Gon was killed. He was later publicly critical of both the Senate and the Order, whom he blamed for the situation on Naboo –” She saw Anakin glance at Padmé, then quickly away, his cheeks coloring, “– and the circumstances of Qui-Gon’s death. Qui-Gon used to be his Padawan, you see.”
“Oh,” Padmé said. “Yes, I remember hearing about that, though at the time I had other concerns.”
“It was hugely controversial. I wasn’t paying much attention at the time either.” She had been lost in her own grief, too busy trying to figure out how to teach a Padawan instead of be one to pay any attention to a scandal that had, she’d learned only later, had a great deal to do with her.
Anakin glanced down at the floor. “What does he want with us?”
“I don’t know,” Obi-Wan said. “But I have a bad feeling about it.”
*
The carpet on the stairs muffled Obi-Wan’s bootsteps. She climbed slowly, passing several other Jedi on her way but not speaking to any of them, keeping the hood of her cloak up to hide her face, though it wasn’t as if her identity was a secret to any of them. She felt tired more than anything else, tired without any real explanation for why, as though Dooku’s reappearance had triggered all the old sorrows that she had thought she’d long since buried. It all seemed to be coming back at once, Padmé and Dooku both conjuring up the memory of Qui-Gon. It’s not like Obi-Wan had even known Dooku when he’d been a Jedi; she’d seen him once or twice with Qui-Gon, but he’d never taken any interest in her then and they’d never spoken. She hadn’t even been certain that he’d known her name, known anything about her except that she’d been Qui-Gon’s padawan. She couldn’t imagine what he wanted with her now.
She took the fifth landing, passing by a floor-length clear window bordered by two stained glass ones, and turned down the hallway to the left. She went all the way down to the end of the corridor and tapped her fingers on the right-hand door.
“It’s Obi-Wan Kenobi,” she said, the introduction unnecessary for a Jedi, and ducked inside as the door slid open, pulling her hood back from her face.
She had expected to find only Tholme and Quin here, maybe Aayla if they’d decided that the Dooku affair was appropriate for Quin’s Padawan to be aware of. No Aayla, she saw as she walked in, but instead Yoda and Mace Windu as well as Tholme and Quinlan.
Obi-Wan bowed. “Masters.”
Tholme tipped his head at an empty seat. Obi-Wan folded herself into it, looking back and forth between Yoda, Windu, and Tholme; Quinlan was leaning against the window frame, his arms crossed over his chest. He gave her an apologetic look; the only reason Obi-Wan didn’t shrug in reply was because her superiors were watching.
“Masters, I take it that your presence here is a sign that this is a matter about which I should be concerned,” she said.
“Perhaps,” Windu said. “It could be nothing more than what it seems, though Dooku’s never had a taste for sentimentality.”
“Hard to read, Dooku is,” Yoda said. “Skilled in the use of the Force, he is.”
“Masters, I take it you aren’t aware that I met Count Dooku at the Senate Building today?” Obi-Wan said.
“No,” Tholme said, leaning forward. “When? Quinlan didn’t mention this.”
“Just a few hours ago. Anakin and I were at the Senate Building waiting for Senator Amidala of Naboo, and we ran into Dooku there.” She told them quickly what had passed, not that there was much to tell.
“This is a troubling development,” Windu said, steepling his palms.
“Know of Dooku’s retirement, do you?” asked Yoda.
“Only the rumors, Master,” Obi-Wan said. “I know that he left the Order after Qui-Gon’s death on Naboo to resume his birthright as the hereditary count of Serenno and that afterwards he spoke out publicly against both the Senate and the Order. He blamed the Senate for not supporting Naboo and the Order for letting the Jedi grow weak. But since then he’s been quiet.”
“Know, do you, that offered to become your Master after Qui-Gon’s death, he did?”
Obi-Wan blinked. “No, I didn’t.”
“Before your knighthood decided, this was. For Master Qui-Gon, his first thought was; his second for Qui-Gon’s Padawan. Tried to contact you, he did, but kept from you this was. Too many distractions you could not have.”
“By the time we returned to Coruscant, Dooku had already made the decision to leave the Jedi,” Windu said. “He was summoned before the Council to explain his resignation, but he never appeared. Until now he’s had no further contact with anyone in the Order.”
“So why me?” Obi-Wan asked. “Why now?”
“Have something to do with the new Senate bills, it may,” Yoda offered after a fraught pause. “Perhaps only for convenience or sentiment are you.”
“The new Senate bills,” Obi-Wan said slowly, trying to remember what they were. At any point in time there were thousands of bills winding their torturous way through the Senate, committee after committee working their way through them and slowly winnowing them down to the handful that would, in several years time, be presented to the entirety of the Senate. At best estimate, any bill introduced this season would make its way before the whole Senate in three or four years. The first votes would begin within the week.
“The Planetary Sovereignty Act?” she wagered after a moment’s thought. “Or the Military Creation Act?”
There were any number of bills that might catch the attention of a relatively new planetary leader, especially one with a background in the Jedi Order, but normally it took so long to shepherd a bill through the Senate that it seemed unthinkable anyone who hadn’t sponsored it would get involved this early.
“Not known yet, it is,” Yoda said serenely. “Meet with Count Dooku you will. Discern his purpose on Coruscant.”
Obi-Wan inclined her head. “Yes, Masters.”
She took her leave, Quinlan following her out after a glance back at the others to make sure that he had been dismissed as well. They fell into step together on their way down the corridor.
“Whatever Dooku said really bothered you, didn’t it?” Quin asked.
“It wasn’t his words, precisely,” Obi-Wan said; those had been innocuous enough. “It was just a feeling – something Anakin and I both felt in the Force before he arrived.” She swept a hand over her face. “Maybe I’m just paranoid.”
“You just said that your Padawan felt it too,” he pointed out. “What was it?”
“I don’t know. It felt…familiar. As if I’d felt its like before. Not that that means anything,” she added quickly. “I’ve been an active Jedi for more than fifteen years now. I’ve felt any number of odd things in the Force.”
“Including a Sith Lord,” Quin said, his voice very mild.
“I think the Jedi Council would have noticed if there was a Sith Lord in the Senate,” Obi-Wan said pointedly. “I think you’ve been hit in the head one too many times, Quinlan.”
“I know my history, Obi-Wan. Sith always come in twos.”
Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. “And I thought I was paranoid, Quin. No, I don’t believe it’s another Sith; I’m sure the Council would be aware of it then. It may not even have anything to do with Count Dooku; there are thousands of beings in the Senate Building at any given time.”
Quin tucked his thumbs into his belt. “Do you want me to go with you to talk to Dooku?”
“What, and have him get even more suspicious because I’ve brought another Jedi Knight with me, and Master Tholme’s protégée at that? No, I have it quite under control. And Anakin will come with me, of course.”
He frowned. “Not that you aren’t a good Jedi, Obi-Wan, but –”
“There’s no indication that Dooku means to do anything aggressive against the Jedi,” Obi-Wan reminded him. “I am a Jedi Knight, Quin. I have been for quite some time now. I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself and my Padawan. Besides, we’re on Coruscant. It’s not exactly the Outer Rim.”
“All right, I know,” Quinlan said quickly. “There’s just something weird going on here – I can feel it, Tholme can – why do you think Windu and Yoda showed up?”
Obi-Wan passed her hand over her face. “I’ll think about it. Blast it, I was hoping that we’d have some downtime, not this…whatever this is.”
He elbowed her companionably. “At least you have your pretty senator to keep you distracted.”
“You pervert,” Obi-Wan said, shaking her head.
“I don’t understand how you always get missions that involve gorgeous women hanging all over you and I get ones with smugglers who think bathing is optional,” he sighed.
“Just lucky, I guess. Although I hope you’re not counting Jirra the Hutt among them, because if you are, well, I’m not going to judge what you’re into, Quin, but –”
“Still your filthy tongue, Kenobi! She’s all yours!”
Their laughter drew curious glances from some of the other passing Jedi. Quinlan grinned happily at Obi-Wan. “Feel better?”
“Yes,” Obi-Wan admitted. “Want to spar?”
“Want to do something less likely to end in bruises?” He accompanied this with a faint mental whisper that made his intentions clear. “It’ll take your mind off Dooku. Well, I hope it will, anyway –”
“If we have sex in my apartment,” Obi-Wan said, “Anakin will pick up on it. And then he’ll throw a fit.”
“Mine, then. Aayla knows when to take a hint.”
“If we have sex anywhere in the Temple or the grounds while Anakin is in the Temple, he’ll pick up on it,” Obi-Wan said. “Don’t ask me how I know this. It’s not worth it.”
“So I’ll get Aayla to round up the senior Padawans in the Temple right now and they can take Skywalker out into the city while we have sex in my apartment,” Quinlan said practically. “If your Padawan has something against sex, Obi-Wan, he really has to get over it. I’m surprised his head hasn’t exploded already; Temple’s not exactly short on people getting it on, even once you weed out the celibates and the ascetics.”
“It’s not everyone,” Obi-Wan said, wincing. “It’s just me. And it’s not that he has anything against it, really, he’s just extremely sensitive to me. It’s been very useful on occasion.”
“Council know about this?” Quin asked, taking his comlink off his belt.
“It’s not unusual for Padawans to be extremely sensitive to their Masters,” Obi-Wan pointed out. “And Anakin’s stronger than most Padawans – stronger than most Knights, for that matter, though less skilled. And we’ve been working on it.”
Quinlan shrugged. “Glad I’m not the one with the prodigy.” He thumbed on his comlink. “Hey, Aayla, any interest in distracting Anakin Skywalker for a few hours? Preferably off Temple grounds? You can see who else is planetside right now, make an excursion out of it.”
“Why do I have the feeling I shouldn’t tell him why if he asks?” Aayla responded, sounding amused.
“Because Master Kenobi has to live with him. So are you up for it?”
“All right,” she said agreeably. “I think Sian Jeisel and Xiaan Amersu are on-planet, and I know Nahdar Vebb is here since Master Fisto is – hmm, I think I saw Master Unduli, so Barriss Offee might be here too, but she’s a little young…” She trailed off thoughtfully.
“Have fun,” Quin said cheerfully. “Come home before morning. Don’t disgrace the Order. Let me know when you’ve left the grounds with Skywalker.” He keyed his comlink off after Aayla’s affirmative.
Obi-Wan shook her head, grinning. “You’re unbelievable.”
“Hey, I’m just trying to be a good friend.”
“And the fact that you get to have sex with me doesn’t have anything to do with it?”
“Doesn’t hurt,” Quinlan grinned. “Unlike acrobatics in the dark while dodging laser bolts.”
Obi-Wan poked a finger into his chest. “Remember, Vos, you were right there next to me. And don’t pretend you don’t enjoy it.”
“Makes me feel all manly,” he grins. “What’s your excuse?”
“Who says I need one?” The Force gave her a split-second’s warning; she was already taking her comlink off her belt when it buzzed. “Anakin.”
“Hi, Master. Aayla Secura and some of the other Padawans are going out into the city, is it all right if I go too?” He sounded a little anxious; he’d been out of the Temple more than he’d been in it today, considering that he’d had tea with the Chancellor and dinner with Senator Amidala.
“Just don’t do anything illegal,” Obi-Wan said. “No racing.”
“What if it’s legal?”
“Anakin. No racing. And nothing you’re going to regret in the morning; we’re running simulations tomorrow and while at some point I’m going to make you do that while you’re hungover, I don’t want it to be right now.”
Even at a distance, she could sense him rolling his eyes. “Yes, Master,” he parroted obediently.
She felt his mind slide comfortably and familiarly against hers, probably not even aware he was doing it, and Obi-Wan very clearly and firmly formulated the thought, Anakin, boundaries. In return she got a murmur of apology as he backed off.
“See?” Quinlan said as she replaced the comlink on her belt. “All taken care of.”
“Unless this group of masterless Padawans we’ve just set loose manages to burn down half the city,” Obi-Wan said, but she was smiling.
*
Obi-Wan woke with a start to the mental equivalent of Anakin battering on her bedroom door and shouting her name. She could sense him in her room even before she opened her eyes to find him sitting on the foot of her bed, looking solemnly at her. He was barefoot, wearing only his undershirt over his trousers; Obi-Wan didn’t need to touch his mind to know that he was quite drunk.
She scrubbed a hand over her eyes, sitting up. “Anakin. What is it?”
“You have the most amazing breasts in the Order,” he told her, though thankfully his gaze was on her face, not her chest.
“Flattering, but hardly accurate,” Obi-Wan said, wondering what this was leading up to and extremely relieved that she was sleeping in a nightshirt, not just her skin – not a habit she’d ever had the leisure to pick up, fortunately.
“We voted,” he said very seriously. “Master Ti’s are really nice, and so are Master Unduli’s – or at least that’s what Bariss says, anyway – and Master Saa’s are great, but they don’t really count because she’s a shapeshifter.”
Obi-Wan put her hand over her eyes. Anakin probably wouldn’t appreciate it if she laughed right now. “And I’m sure you’ve all studied this in great detail.”
“Well, it can’t be Republic laws and xenobiology all the time, Master,” Anakin said, inching slowly up the bed towards her. “Why, who do you think has nicer breasts?”
“You have no idea how much you’re going to regret this conversation once you sober up,” Obi-Wan sighed.
“I mean, you’ve probably seen more than I have.”
Obi-Wan pinched the bridge of her nose between two fingers. “Anakin, did you wake me up just to talk about breasts or was there something else?”
Anakin was close enough to touch now. “You’re really pretty,” he told her, like a secret shared just between the two of them. “I really want to –”
“Anakin, go to bed,” Obi-Wan said hastily, layering compulsion into her voice. “Your own bed. And sleep it off.”
He blinked at her. “I’m going to my bed to sleep it off,” he said, as if it had been his idea all along, then got off her bed and wandered back out, the door sliding shut behind him.
Obi-Wan put her hand over her face, pulling her knees up to her chest and leaning on them. She was fairly certain she’d never had any conversations with Qui-Gon that had been remotely similar, though she knew she’d gotten drunk around him more than once.
The unvoiced thought had been at the forefront of Anakin’s mind. Obi-Wan couldn’t have missed it if she’d wanted to, not with the bond between them open and all Anakin’s barriers against her down.
I really want to kiss you right now.
*
tbc