Binary Sunset | SW Oneshots

Star Systems Apart

to celebrate the arrival of the kenobi series, here's a young obitine oneshot straight from the heart

TW/CW: Referenced death 

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It was another late night on Coruscant. Qui-Gon was asleep in his room, all of Obi-Wan's friends were elsewhere, and he was alone in the archives, unable to sleep.

He was certain he'd been there all night, fiddling with various books, holopads and holocrons. It wasn't like he was absorbing any of the information, though; His mind was elsewhere.

Defending the Duchess of Mandalore hadn't felt like a year, but during the time he was gone, he felt like he'd aged a lifetime. Which was saying something, since he was still only eighteen.

It didn't help that he was tired. Exhausted. It was true. A year of being on the run had taken so much out of him, and if he could have, he would have been on his sleep-couch, fast asleep. But every time he closed his eyes, he saw the Duchess, impaled on a black blade.

He stood and sighed, after some more fruitless fidgeting, and made his way to the Padawan training dojo.

He knew he didn't need to be carrying his lightsaber around at this late of an hour. Even if it was technically suggested for all Jedi to have their lightsabers on them, everyone he passed in the halls hadn't seen the need, either.

He passed a Padawan duo, holding snacks and laughing. There were no lightsabers on their belts. "Hey, Obi!" They'd called as they walked by. Obi-Wan thought he might've known them from somewhere and nodded at them in greeting.

A Master walked by him, attention fixated on a holocron in their hand. They looked up at him and said, "Good evening." Obi-Wan returned it.

They didn't have their lightsaber, either.

But Obi-Wan had to have his at all times, now. He couldn't feel safe without the weight of his lightsaber hanging from his belt. He couldn't rely on the Force, and he couldn't rely on himself alone. He had learned that.

As he entered the training dojo, he closed his eyes and saw her again. Then, he walked to the center of the room and discarded his robes. The ignition of his lightsaber cast a blue glow across the floor of the dojo.

He decided to practice some standard katas.

With every movement, he heard the echo of blasterfire, the crackle of electricity, voices shouting. Every scuff of his boot as it glided across the cool floor made him flinch. In the hum of his lightsaber, he could hear words being spoken. Words he'd spat at Qui-Gon in this very dojo, words he'd spat at the Force. Words he'd spat at Satine.

Words he'd cursed at himself.

He pushed himself to move faster, now. Bringing his lightsaber up, to the side, overhead, down. Repeatedly, he practiced these motions. He never wanted to fail in action again. He needed to practice harder.

At some point, he stopped. Sniffles mixed in with his heavy breathing. He was distracted. The normal rhythm of the katas were usually muscle memory, almost meditative. But he couldn't rely on his muscles anymore, he was too aware of his movements and of his thoughts. He was a senior Padawan. He should've been better, and then he would've been able to protect her–

It occurred to him, as he was crouching to pick up his robe, that it was not for his safety that he feared. It was Satine's. He had no idea if she was safe, especially since she was halfway across the galaxy, and he wasn't with her. He was safe in the Jedi Temple. Meanwhile, merely two weeks into her regency, she could have been assassinated or kidnapped or in danger in any other way he didn't wish to consider.

He grabbed his robe and ran out of the training dojo.

The race to his quarters was a blur. He didn't recall passing anyone, although he did hear voices calling his name. Voices saying "Obi-Wan", "Kenobi", "Ben."

Only she called him Ben.

He was through the doors to his and Qui-Gon's shared quarters almost before they could open. He dropped his robe and lightsaber on the floor, forsaken in some spot from where Obi-Wan would have to retrieve them before Qui-Gon could see.

Then, Obi-Wan careered into his room, where on his desk, his own private comm was already chiming.

He scrambled to answer it. By the time he had accepted the incoming transition, he was sprawled halfway across the desk.

Satine flickered into life as a hologram. For a moment, he thought he saw that horrid vision again – Her, lifeless, impaled upon a black blade. What he saw in reality was much different, though.

Her, staring at him with that familiar lack of amusement in her eyes. She might have appeared the slightest bit disarrayed – Her hair tangled, her headress lopsided, a new scar on her cheek – but he was too relieved to take any of that into consideration.

He let out a breath and sat down in his desk chair.

She quirked an eyebrow and fixed her sleeve. Then, she crossed her arms and looked at him appraisingly. "Well, you finally picked up. I was beginning to think you were ignoring me, Ben."

Obi-Wan sighed and tried to relax into the rhythm of the affectionate bicker. "Duchess, you must understand. While it may only be mid-afternoon for you, it is currently–"

"Nearly dawn on Coruscant?" She placed one hand on her hip, while the other she kept at an uncomfortably stiff angle. "Yes, I know. And I also know you weren't asleep, because you're a light sleeper, and I called you three times."

The unease flooded back into Obi-Wan as he took note of her posture. "Duchess, are you alright?"

Satine scrutinized him a moment more. She exhaled deeply and dropped her arm to her side. Suddenly, she looked frightened and vulnerable.

"Obi... There was- There was an assassination attempt..." She wouldn't meet his eyes. With horror, he scanned her flickering holographic form. He shifted closer to her hologram, even despite the star systems between them.

"Satine," He spoke softly, "Was anyone hurt?"

Is was now that she glared at him, hair hanging limply over her shoulders, and began to gesture furiously. "No, but that's not the important part. This act of violence says something! My people value strength, and if such an act of violence can stand-"

"Satine, were you hurt?" He repeated faintly.

She stared coolly at him for a moment. "Y-Yes," Satine said, voice quiet, "Yes I was. It's not too bad, though, it's just a small injury. My guards were vigilant, never fear..."

Obi-Wan exhaled and finally relaxed in his chair. "I'm glad you're alright. Still, you should probably increase security around Sundari, and..." He paused his racing thoughts at the hesitant look on her face. "Satine? What is it?"

"Obi, I wish you were here."

He wished he was, too.