Stiff from so much time aboard ship, he made his way down the ramp stretching as he walked. His hair, which had long grown out of the padawan cut, caught on the wind and lifted about his neck. He moved the unruly locks out of his immediate vision, tucking the longer strands behind his ears. He then pulled his cloak closer as he secured his ship and made his way out of the spaceport and into the city proper. He had been here twice before, neither time for very long, but he knew where he was headed and how to get there. A public airbus would traverse most of the distance and from where he would debark he could walk the remaining few blocks.
He had done his research and he knew at this hour the person he was looking for would be in the large park near the city's municipal offices in the downtown district taking his midday meal. As he approached the city center the crowds on the walkways steadily grew thicker, but he continued forward with a well-honed grace and economy of movement. The throng of beings began to thin again as he made his way into the park, its lush greenery and blush of vibrant colors washed over him as he was embraced by the arms of the Living Force. It was not often he had found such abundant areas of life within the various megalopolises he had visited alone, during the past year, so he took an extra moment to relish the simple touch the Force offered him before he resumed his trek and headed deeper into the park.
His quarry sat just ahead alone on a bench. His target appeared to be staring off into space with little care or attention given to his surroundings. Still, he chose to approach quietly, coming up behind the man as silent as a shadow.
"Hello, Garen."
"Hello, Obi-Wan."
At that the young man on the bench looked at his visitor. Garen looked much as he remembered; tall, well-muscled, but not bulky, dark brown hair and eyes though his hair was much longer and there was something missing.
"Congratulations, Knight Muln," he offered with a polite dip of his head and a gesture to the empty space on his bench. Absently, Garen raised his hand, fingering the empty space where his padawan braid used to be.
"Yeah, I'm still not quite used to being called that," the knight replied as he took the offered seat.
"You earned it. I'm proud of you, Garen."
"Are you?" Garen asked seriously. A flash of hurt crossed Obi-Wan's features before he turned his face away and stared into the distance.
"Why wouldn't I be?"
"I just thought...you know, with you leaving..."
"I didn't leave because I hated you or the Jedi."
"Then why did you leave?" Garen pressed, but still Obi-Wan would not look at him. The answer was a long time coming and when it finally came it was spoken in soft tones.
"It's personal."
"Obi,"
"Leave off, Garen," Obi-Wan bit off harshly as he turned to glare at his friend through a curtain of copper colored bangs. Garen raised his hands in surrender.
"Fine, whatever you say, Obi," he answered. Both young men fell into silence then, each choosing to focus on the serene, scenic view before them rather than on the thick tension suddenly between them. Garen glanced at the man beside him. Obi-Wan seemed both the same and entirely different to his eyes. His physical appearance hadn't changed in the year since he left; save he had grown his hair out of the ridiculous padawan's cut. He looked as fit as ever from what Garen could determine through the rough, but thin fabric of Obi-Wan's tunic and trousers. What had changed in his friend wasn't easily seen, but the shift was present nonetheless. There was something very different in the way he sat, the way he held his head, the look in his eye. As much as Garen wished he were imagining it, the change was undeniable. This wasn't the same Obi-Wan he knew. This man was closed off to everything around him, a part of the world, but apart from it.
"How did you find me?" Obi-Wan finally asked though he kept his attention forwards.
"Master Clee and I had a stopover here several months ago. I saw you then, sitting here in this park, but I didn't have the time to do anything. Then later, after I was knighted, I came back looking for you," Garen replied as he leaned back on the bench, his hands clasped and hanging between his legs. "I saw you. You were still sitting alone, on this bench just like before. I wanted to come over to... I don't know, talk to you, say something..."
"But you didn't."
It wasn't a question, but Garen felt he needed to answer it anyway.
"No," he replied with a shake of his head. "I didn't know what to say."
Obi-Wan turned his attention back to the Jedi at his side, a slight grin on his face.
"Garen Muln at a loss for words. Does this mean Tattoine has finally frozen over?" he teased, but his attempt at levity fell short at the expression on Garen's face. "What? What is it?"
"You have to come home, Obi," Garen intoned.
"I told you," Obi-Wan began, but Garen interrupted him.
"I know, but that's not what I'm asking. As much as we miss you... I... It doesn't matter. I know you're not coming back to the Jedi even if you won't tell me why, but you need to come back to the Temple with me...for Bant."
"What about her?" Obi-Wan asked as a knot slowly formed in his chest and ice settled in his stomach.
"She's...dying. She may even be gone already, but..." Garen paused as his eyes grew distant. "But I don't think so. Not yet," he said turning his gaze back on his friend. "I've been busting ass trying to get back to Coruscant in time to see her, but I knew I had to stop here, to let you know."
"Bant?" Obi-Wan whispered, the single syllable both a plea and question both. "She's..." he paused again, unable to finish, the words catching in his throat.
"She was injured badly on a mission... the healers can't..." Garen blinked against the sting behind his eyes. "She doesn't have a lot of time..."
"Bant," Obi-Wan repeated in a whisper. His mind was swirling, his thoughts and emotions were a jumbled mess. He found himself incapable of thinking clearly. He could only feel and what he felt threatened to consume him. He clenched his hands into fists trying to still the tremors racing through his body. His chest suddenly felt tight, his heart was pounding in his ears, his stomach roiled, his muscles twitched and jumped urging him to run.
"Obi," came a concerned voiced to his left, the single syllable holding so many questions.
Garen watched as Obi-Wan had grown quiet, then pale, then downright shocky. The man looked like he was on the verge of outright panic. Instinctively, Garen reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder. Obi-Wan surged off of the bench.
"I can't do this. I'm... I'm sorry," he murmured as he wrapped his arms around himself feeling suddenly very cold. Garen looked at his friend's trembling back and sighed softly.
"My ship is being refueled. It will be ready in four hours, dock twelve, if you change your mind."
"I won't," Obi-Wan replied quietly as he began to walk away. After a few steps he paused. "Tell her... I'm sorry," he whispered so softly that only Garen's Force enhanced hearing allowed him to pick it up. Garen watched as Obi-Wan left the park sadly noting that he never looked back.
* * * * *
Obi-Wan sat absently at his desk. He had returned to the office after leaving the park, but he was there in body only. His thoughts, such as they were, were several light-years away. Garen wanted him to go back, but how could he? When he walked away from the Temple, from the Jedi, he knew it would be forever. He would never come back, could never. That life was over. Those people were lost to him...or at least that's what he had told himself, but was it true?
Obi-Wan leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes. The chest pain he had felt in the park had abated as had the tremors in his muscles, but now his body was weary. As usual, his panic attack left him exhausted. The attacks were something he had been forced to endure as a result of his last experiences at the Temple. That moment in the Council chambers, Obi-Wan had felt like the box he had so carefully sealed and reinforced over the years suddenly burst open in front of everyone. He had done everything he could to shove the contents of his failure back into the box and out of view, but when his master... when Master Jinn had entered his mind it was as if the box no longer existed, its walls and bindings melting away under the scrutiny of this Master Jedi. Jinn had seen everything then, all the things he had spent a decade hiding, every shred of evidence detailing his inadequacies was laid bare before the man who had suffered the ignominy of being his master. How could he face the man after that? How could he face the Council? The Jedi?
The truth was he couldn't. He was a failure and a burden. The former he could do nothing about, but the latter he could change. That's why he had come to Ubar Udnom. A planet with no enemies, no major trade resources, no significant strategic value, nothing that would make it stand out. It was a planet that was extraordinary only by its ordinariness. Here he would make his new start. Here, on an unremarkable planet, he would spend his unremarkable life passing the years toiling in some unremarkable trade until he died. Obi-Wan knew that he would pass through the galaxy leaving it without leaving a mark. There would be no one who would grieve for him. He would die alone and forgotten.
As it should be.
Obi-Wan leaned forward and shut down his console, protecting it with his password before getting up and heading down the narrow corridor between the rows of cubicles until he reached the doors to the small balcony of his work floor. He reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out a half used deathstick. He knew it was a terrible habit, that the substance inside was addictive and ultimately deadly. He even knew that its use diminished his Force sense making his connection erractic at best and non-existant at worst, but he didn't care. These days it seemed only the potent inhalant could calm him. Meditation certainly didn't work anymore and he had long since given up any attempts.
Obi-Wan took a long drag of his deathstick and blew the slightly blue tinged smoke out into the open air. Could he really go back? It was something he honestly would never ususally contemplate, but this wouldn't be for him. It would be for Bant.
Bant.
Obi-Wan took another slow pull from his deathstick. Bant had been his friend since his earliest memories in the crèche at the Jedi Temple. A small smile crept across his lips. While he had been friendly with most everyone at the Temple, Obi-Wan only had a precious few people he truly called friends and he had always felt Forced blessed to count Bant amongst them. He frowned. But that was part of the problem wasn't it. He was no longer Force blessed. Sure, he could still sense the Force sometimes, use it somewhat briefly, but if he were honest with himself, he didn't feel like he had the right to it. Bant did. Garen did. All of the friends, the people he left behind did, but not him and to walk the halls of the Temple now, to intrude upon that space seemed sacrilegious, heretical, wrong.
Obi-Wan shook his head and put out his deathstick. He loved Bant. He did, but this was simply something he could not do. He could not go back. He could never go back. Bant would understand. She had too.
Obi-Wan raised his head to the sky, closing his eyes tight against the push of sudden tears.
"Force forgive me."
* * * * *
Garen waited. And waited. And waited. He knew he was really pushing his luck by delaying this long, but he had to give Obi-Wan a chance even if it risked both of them losing their opportunity to see Bant one last time. Garen glanced at his personal chrono and frowned. His eyes searched the landscape before him. Through the large hanger doors he could see the barest outskirts of Udar City. Air cars and buses were constantly traveling in dense traffic lines moving in complex geometric patterns, continuously flexing and shifting like a living thing. A few transports would drift close to his hanger, but none came close enough to settle.
"Master Jedi," a Ud mechanic called from behind him. "Your ship is ready. If you don't depart shortly you will miss your clearance window."
"Of course," Garen replied shortly, but not unkindly. "Inform your traffic control that I will be departing immediately."
The Ud mechanic bowed his head in acknowledgement before turning and leaving. Garen scanned the horizon once more. With a quiet sigh, he pulled his gaze away from the trafficscape and raised his hood over his head. He walked over to his ship, pressing the small panel on its under belly that would lower the ramp. He was just about to board when a voice called out, echoing in the large space.
"Garen!"
"Obi-Wan," Garen yelled as he double timed down the ramp and half way across the bay to meet his friend. Obi-Wan was still dressed in the plain tunic and trousers he had worn when the two were in the park, but this time he also wore a neat, but well-worn spacer's jacket over his lean frame. The two young men came to a stop in the middle of the hanger. Despite their initial enthusiastic yells, now that they stood face to face both men found themselves at a loss for words. Finally, Garen spoke if only to end the uncomfortable silence between them.
"My departure window is nearly closed. We should get going," he said. Obi-Wan gave a sharp nod, but said nothing. After a moment's pause, Garen turned and both men made their way to the small Jedi scout ship. The men climbed the ramp and entered the ship proper, the hatch closing with a hiss behind them. Garen slid easily into the pilot's chair and began his prelaunch procedures. Obi-Wan eased charily into the co-pilot's seat leaving Garen to handle the necessaries without interference from him. Within ten minutes, Garen had the small ship lifting off the platform, out the hanger doors, through the planetary traffic, and safely to their jump point.
Obi-Wan watched as his adopted home went from a blue-green sphere dominating his view to a small pin prick of light, only to finally melt and vanish into the streak of stars as they shifted into hyperspace. He stared off into that streaming starscape letting it lull him despite the thick tension of the cockpit. After some unknown time of uncomfortable silence, Garen turned to face him.
"I wasn't certain you'd come."
"Neither was I," Obi-Wan replied still gazing out the window of the cockpit. To his left he could hear Garen shift uncomfortably.
"It's a thirteen hour flight to Coruscant."
"I know."
"So.... should we... I don't know, talk or something?"
"If you want," Obi-Wan absently replied as he continued to stare out of the duraglass viewport. Garen sighed heavily and clasped his hands together as he regarded his traveling companion. He opened his mouth to speak then abruptly shut it as he drew in a deep, calming breath.
"Look Obi-Wan, I don't know why you left and I know you don't want to talk about it, but we're going to be in this ship together for most of the day. Do you really want to spend that time pretending things are okay? We're supposed to be friends," he finished softly.
"We are friends," Obi-Wan answered. Garen slammed his fist against the console. The sudden violence of the motion and its accompanying sound was enough to finally pull Obi-Wan's gaze away from the stars. He turned to face Garen and was treated to a heated glare.
"We're not friends!" Garen shouted. "We can't be! Friends talk to each other. Friends confide in each other. Friends don't sneak out in the middle of the night and disappear without a word!"
"I know," Obi-Wan replied softly. He lowered his gaze unable to bear the anger and disappointment he saw in Garen's brown eyes. Garen continued, but this time when he spoke his tone held less fire and was tinged with pain.
"You left us, Obi. Reeft, Bant, me.... You left us and you didn't even say goodbye. And we didn't even know why. We still don't," he said as he got to his feet and began to pace in the small space of the cockpit. "And we of course didn't hear anything from you or even Master Qui-Gon. No, no, no. Do you know how we found out that you were gone?" Garen asked as he stopped in front of Obi-Wan.
"Do you?"
"No," Obi-Wan answered quietly. Garen huffed and resumed his pacing.
"They called us in, all three of us. We were called to the Council Chamber. We had to stand before Master Windu, Master Yoda, and our masters and there they told us that you had left the Order. That's it. No explanation, no warning, no follow-up. Nothing. You were gone and that was it."
All of the energy that had fueled Garen's rant seemed to dissipate with his last statement as his pacing stopped and he slumped back into his pilot's seat. The knight lowered his head, shaking it in denial of the facts he had uttered. When he looked up again the anger was gone from his eyes leaving only saddness and a desperate need to understand.
"How could you do that to us, Obi? Didn't you care even a little a bit? Did you even think what losing you would do to us?" he asked, but when Obi-Wan failed to respond Garen felt his anger spark again.
"Answer me dammit it! You owe me at least that much," he snapped. Slowly he watched blue-gray eyes rise to meet his.
"I'm sorry," Obi-Wan whispered.
"I don't want your Force damned apology, Obi! I want an explanation."
"I... I don't know what you want me to say..."
"I don't care! Just say something, anything... anything but I can't tell you."
"I..." Obi-Wan started, but suddenly had to stop and swallow around the lump in his throat. "I didn't want to leave you or Bant or Reeft, but... I couldn't stay... not after... I just couldn't. I didn't mean to hurt you."
"Then why did you? What happened that was so horrible that you couldn't even say goodbye or tell us where you went? Let us know you were even alive?"
Obi-Wan felt himself cower mentally at his friend's harshly spoken words. He wanted to defend himself, to explain his actions, his reasons, for running, but he could not. There was no way that Garen or any of the others could even begin to fathom the phantoms that had chased him away from the Temple. Phantoms that followed him still. Phantoms he would never, ever be free of except for, maybe, when he died. And yet, Obi-Wan was not sure that even death would finally silence the voices that spoke of his shame.
No, he could not explain it to Garen. It was impossible for Garen to understand, but perhaps there was a piece of his story that would be digestable for the knight. Obi-Wan made his decision within the space of one long, deep breath.
"Master Jinn repudiated me before the Council so he could take Anakin Skywalker as his apprentice," Obi-Wan intoned as his eyes took on a faraway look. "He dismissed me. I left soon after."
"What?" Garen sputtered, any traces of his earlier bitterness and frustration entirely displaced by his shock. "Wait, what? I mean... what? What do you mean?"
"Master Jinn repudiated me to take Anakin Skywalker as his padawan learner," Obi-Wan repeated calmly. These were words he had not spoken often, but everytime Obi-Wan uttered them, he was always surprised at his own calm. This time was no different. Deep down, Obi-Wan knew the words themselves could not harm him, had not harmed him, and yet he still avoided saying them whenever possible. In fact, he had only uttered them twice before. Once to Master Songe and once more before the High Council scant moments before his leaving. Now he had spoken them again. Twice in as many minutes. Master Jinn repudiated me. The words should have stirred something within him, Obi-Wan knew, but if he allowed that, if he allowed himself to feel anything... anything but calm... He was not certain he could survive it. It was that thought, not the words, that frightened him in a most un-Jedi like way, but that was all right. Afterall, Obi-Wan was no Jedi.
"You mean he recommended you for your trials?"
"No. I was simply..." Obi-Wan paused searching for the right word then with a shrug he finished "dismissed."
"But," Garen protested still shaking his head in increduality. "Master Qui-Gon doesn't have a padawan."
"What?" Obi-Wan said, his eyes focusing squarely on the man across from him. "What do you mean? Of course he has a padawan. Anakin,"
"Is not his apprentice," Garen interrupted. "Skywalker is apprenticed to Master Yoda."
"Master Yoda?" Obi-Wan repeated. "But... I don't understand..."
"Obi, after you left Master Qui-Gon stayed in the starmap room. He would just... sit there, meditating I guess. It was months before he went on missions again," Garen said to his wide-eyed friend. Now, it was Obi-Wan's turn to shake his head in confusion.
"But... the map room? Why?"
"I think," Garen spoke softly. "I think he was looking for you."
"He..." Obi-Wan began, but suddenly he felt that familiar constriction in his chest. He tried to take a deep breath, but couldn't. There wasn't enough air. He began to sweat, to tremble. His vision dimmed. Panic gripped him. Distantly, he could hear Garen speaking, but that world was far away, disappearing under the pall of his growing terror. He was shaking violently now, his shoulders rocking back and forth. Someone was shaking him and... yelling. Someone was yelling... yelling his name...
"Obi-Wan! Obi-Wan! Breathe! Obi-Wan!" Garen shouted as he tried to shake his friend out of his frantic state. Blue-gray eyes that seemed almost febrile locked with his. Garen stopped shaking Obi-Wan, but did not release his shoulders, in fact, he only tightened his grip as he stared at his friend.
"Breathe with me, Obi-Wan. Match your breath to mine," Garen instructed. Obi-Wan stared at him wide-eyed for a moment more before an attempt was made to regulate his breathing. Garen repeated the instructions calmly as he led his friend through an exercise taught to the youngest of Jedi initiates, an exercise used to settle nerves rattled from nightmares and other imagined frights. It was several minutes before Obi-Wan's breaths matched his own and longer still before the tensed muscles under Garen's hands began to relax.
"That's better," Garen said as he gave one last squeeze to Obi-Wan's shoulders before letting go. Obi-Wan nodded, but said nothing and his face was still a bit too pale for Garen's liking.
"Are you okay?" Garen asked. He knew it was a weak question, but he couldn't think of anything else to say.
"I'm," Obi-Wan started, but the crack in his voice caused him to start again. "I'm fine."
"What caused it?"
"Caused what?" Obi-Wan answered looking down at his short boots.
"The panic attack," Garen replied, but Obi-Wan didn't answer. What could he possibly say that would make sense? Instead he just shrugged and kept his gaze pointed to the floor.
"Obi,"
"I think I should go lay down for a bit," Obi-Wan interrupted. When he didn't get an immediate response, he dared to glance up. He was met with Garen's intense gaze, but the emotion behind it was one Obi-Wan couldn't name. Finally, after several heartbeats under that scrutiny Garen nodded. Neither man spoke as Obi-Wan slowly stood and made his way from the cockpit. The scout ship was small and housed only a tiny room with two shelf like bunks. Obi-Wan stepped inside the quiet quarters and planted himself on the bunk to his left. It wasn't comfortable, but he had slept on worse. And honestly he was so tired it didn't really matter where he lay down, only that he must.
He stretched out on his back, his gaze turned to the ceiling. Rather than focus on the churning emotions inside him, he took to cataloging the small scrapes and dents on the otherwise smooth durasteel finish. Two panic attacks in one day and that was just from facing Garen. Facing just one person. What would happen when he reached Coruscant, when he reached the Temple and he had to face them all? Obi-Wan shuddered. If one Jedi could unbalance him so, then surely his return would destroy him utterly.
Obi-Wan sat up. He reached into his pocket, his hand trembling slightly as he removed the short stub of his most recent deathstick. He ignited it, not caring one whit about the added strain his smoking might put on the air recycling system. He needed the calm that the inhalent brought him. He pulled on it harshly, deeply inhaling its unmistakeably toxic fumes. The smoke burned his throat and lungs, his lips stung uncomfortably, but it did not stop him. He drew on the deathstick, exhaling light blue smoke several times only slowing when he began to feel the slight tingle in his mind. That was what he had been waiting for, what he knew would presage a quelling to the static in his mind and the ice in his gut. Obi-Wan closed his eyes letting his hands drop limply into his lap as he sank deeply into the haze of chemically induced stillness. This was why he had picked up the habit in the first place. It was not the same as meditation. The drugs did not help him reach his center, but when his meditations had first begun to fail it was through the deathsticks that he was at least able to achieve something close to meditation's peace.
Obi-Wan let himself fall back onto the bunk, his eyes still closed. The terror and extreme unease left his mind and body by slow degrees. He could breathe again. He could think again, but in the serene space the assortment of chemicals had gifted him he chose not to. He didn't want to think anymore. Not about where he was, where he was going, what would happen to him once he got there... nothing. He didn't want to think about any of those things and so he didn't. He just kept his eyes closed and breathed.
* * * * *
Obi-Wan awoke in surprise. He hadn't realized he had fallen asleep, but worse, he hadn't realized that he was no longer alone in the small sleeping compartment. He sat up slowly as he watched his friend. Garen was seated on the bunk opposite. His head was down and he was staring at something in his hands that Obi-Wan couldn't make out. When he spoke, he didn't meet Obi-Wan's eyes and his voice was flat and even, almost cold.
"I came to check on you," Garen started, still fingering whatever it was in his hands. "You were asleep, so I was going to come back later, but then I found this."
Garen finally looked up at him as his hand opened. Resting on his palm was the squat butt of his depleted deathstick. Obi-Wan stared at the open hand mortified, but also grateful that Garen had yet to ask him any questions because he knew he would be incapable of speaking at that moment. He couldn't speak, not now, not when he looked into Garen's eyes and saw his worst fears reflected back at him. He saw in Garen's rich brown eyes the same he had spent years seeing in his Master's deep blue ones.
Pity and disappointment.
"Why?" Garen asked, his voice soft and heavy split the silence between them with the ease of a vibro-blade.
"Because I have to," Obi-Wan replied, surprised at the eveness of his voice. Garen stared at him for a moment longer before giving a short nod. He sat the butt on the bunk and rose to his feet without another word. He turned to leave, but a plea halted his steps.
"Don't leave."
Garen did not turn. He did not move in the slightest. Only his words gave notice that Obi-Wan had been heard.
"I won't stay if you're going to,"
"I won't," Obi-Wan interrupted before he could hear those damning words spoken from Garen's lips. "I promise. I won't."
Garen did not reply verbally, but he did turn and take a seat on the empty bunk once more. He looked at Obi-Wan, not expectantly or impatiently, but instead with what Obi-Wan could only describe as a serene resignation. He licked his lips suddenly unsure what he should say now that he called Garen back. He hadn't thought what he would do next. He only knew that he didn't want him to leave. Not like that. Not with that look in his eyes.
"I'm sorry," he started, but Garen shook his head.
"You don't owe me anything."
"Yes, I do," Obi-Wan answered quickly then he hesitated. "Garen..."
"We don't have to talk," Garen intoned, but this time it was Obi-Wan who disagreed.
"I want to tell you... I just," Obi-Wan paused with a sigh. "I don't know if I can make sense. I don't know if you can understand."
Garen nodded seeming to accept that no answers would be forthcoming, but Obi-Wan didn't want to leave things as they were. This was his friend, or at least he used to be. Just like he would come back for Bant, he would try to explain himself for Garen.
"Qui-Gon didn't want me as his padawan," he began and when Garen opened his mouth to object, Obi-Wan held up a hand to silence him. "He didn't Garen. From the very beginning he didn't want me and I gave him good reason on more than one occasion to regret his decision to take me on as his apprentice. Even if he didn't take Skywalker as his padawan, it doesn't change the fact that he wanted release from his obligation to train me," Obi-Wan said as he lowered his gaze to his empty hands. "It was hard enough working, training for all those years knowing that I would never measure up, but when the moment actually came... I just couldn't bear to stay there any longer. I should have said something, I know. Goodbye at least, but... it just hurt too much. I couldn't..."
Obi-Wan was saved from his voice cracking behind a choked sob by Garen's interruption.
"Are you certain?"
"Yes."
"I'm sorry, Obi," he offered quietly. Obi-Wan looked up at him with a small, but somber smile.
"It's not your fault," he said with a shrug. "Now, you know... you know why I left, why I had to leave, but I am sorry I hurt you. All of you. I didn't mean to do that."
"You already apologized for that."
"And you... accept it?" Obi-Wan asked with a meekness Garen had never seen in him.
"Of course. We're friends, Obi."
* * * * *
The two young men spent their time a bit more companionably after that. They shared a meal of water and ration bars while Garen told him how Bant came to be injured. Garen relayed the story of how Bant and her master, Master Kit Fisto, had traveled to the middle rim planet of Urqu to settle a trade dispute between the major guilds and merchant organizations. To accomplish this, Master Fisto and Bant had separate tasks. The Master would meet with the leaders of each party while the padawan would tour the worker facilities and warehouses. Then diaster struck at one of the plants. There had been an explosion, whether it was caused by accident or sabotage, Garen did not know, but what he was told was that the explosion had caused the release of Xetraflurohydrothalmine – a mostly benign gas to the insectoid species of Urqs, but an extremely toxic one to aquatic species and Bant... Bant was a Mon Calamarian.
A gasp escaped Obi-Wan's mouth too fast for him to stop it. Garen's expression grew more grim, but he continued his retelling.
"The explosion did more then just release the gas. It also damaged several support structures. The whole facility was on the verge of collapse and there were still several Urq workers inside. Left on their own some would make it out, but the injured ones..."
"They would die," Obi-Wan finished. Garen nodded.
"Bant had a choice. She chose to try to save them... at the cost of herself."
Obi-Wan shook his head.
"No. There was never a choice. Not for Bant," he replied. "She could never standby and do nothing when someone needed help."
"That wouldn't be the Jedi way."
"That wouldn't be the Bant way."
"No. No, it wouldn't," Garen said with a rueful smile, but then the smile faded and his expression took on more somber tones. "Master Fisto said she saved six workers before the building collapsed, but the damage to her lungs..."
"Is there really nothing that can be done?" Obi-Wan inquired softly. Garen sighed and scrubbed at his face.
"Honestly, from what I've been told she should already be dead. The healers are doing what they can, but... Clee said it would not be long now."
Obi-Wan nodded and closed his eyes. He had never planned to return to his former life and even if he had ever entertained the notion he knew it would not be a happy homecoming, but this... Obi-Wan had to take a deep breath to consciously steel himself against the tidal wave of emotions, wild, nameless, raw emotions that threatened to drown him. Only years of discipline allowed him to fight the worst of it back. After a few minutes, he opened his eyes and found Garen staring at him. Neither one of them spoke. There were no words that needed to be said. The look in their eyes communicated everything with frightening clarity.
They both knew that even if they returned in time to say goodbye to Bant, somehow, for Obi-Wan it was already too late.