The Jedi And The Warrior

The Blockade

Weeks passed, and then months. Obi-Wan continued his training, and Flyra went back to work at Dex's shop, where Dex drew her into a warm embrace, as though he knew all that had befallen her. Beatriz greeted her with a grunt and a scowl.

Obi-Wan got into the habit of visiting her during her lunch breaks, and became quite familiar with Dex. His dry humour made him easily likeable, and Dex played off of him with surprising dexterity. She thought he came because he wanted to make her choice to stay worthwhile; to convince her not to regret it.

And she didn't, not completely, not really. She welcomed his visits, enjoyed them, cherished the opportunity to rebuild the bridge between them. And yet a part of her feared when she would lose this glimpse of happiness; she knew she was not meant for it.

Sometimes on her days off Obi-Wan would walk with her in the Temple gardens — although more and more often he was away on missions, missions that grew more treacherous as the months slipped by. The Jedi were now trusting him with critical, high-risk missions, and occasionally with information he could not reveal even to her. She could see he was becoming a valuable member of the Order — and each time his starfighter swept from the landing platform she was plagued with the knowledge that he could easily not return. He always did, though. Every time.

Since they had returned from Dantooine, the Jedi had sent out scouts, searching every corner of the galaxy for the Crystal of Amarth, but many did not return and those that did were unsuccessful.

One afternoon, not long after Ben Kenobi's death, they had reached the end of a particularly sunny walk through the gardens. Conversation had flowed easily between them, but Obi-Wan had seemed quiet, reserved, and she caught him watching her several times. They had almost reached the end of a long avenue of apricot trees when he'd said,

"May I ask you something?"

She nodded, frowning, but he stopped walking, halting in the warm sunlight.

"Why did you decide not to leave?" he'd asked, sounding as though he'd rehearsed the question for hours.

It caught her off guard, since she hadn't even begun to sort out the answer in her own head. She stared at him, his blue eyes glittering in the bright sunlight. "Obi-Wan, I..." She sighed, looking away. "I just... I couldn't leave. Not like that."

He drew a deep breath that made his chest expand. "Of course," he said, and he smiled, wide and bright, teeth flashing. He squeezed her arm, and resumed walking, pace slow and leisurely. "I knew you'd stay," he'd murmured.

Flyra had looked at him, surprised. "How? I didn't even know it myself."

Obi's mouth had tightened. "I was in pain," he'd said. "You couldn't hate me when I was in pain."

That had been three months ago. Flyra tried not to think about it; about how her best and oldest friend thought so little of her. The insinuation of her selfishness, which could very well belong simply to her paranoia, or could have been intended.

She skimmed her fingers over the spines of the books lining the shelves in the Temple library, tuning out the hushed whisperings and rustlings of cloaks. She tried not to think about it, because she had made the decision to stay here, and she couldn't afford to regret it.

A purpose, that was what the Warriors of Fate had offered her, but she could make her own purpose. It had been the hushed conversation of two Jedi mentioning the name of Naboo that reminded her. Of Ben's last words. Of his warning.

The trade negotiations on Naboo are a distraction. There is a plan...

A plan to do what? Ben's things had already been moved out of his chambers, and most had been thrown away, except the one or two items Obi-Wan asked to keep. But perhaps the Jedi library might yield some information.