MARGO EXPLAINS HER THOUGHTS to the Council quickly, ignoring Quinlan's sharp intake of breath at the words that leave her mouth. When she finishes, the room lapses into a heavy silence.
"So you think that Kenobi faked his death ten years ago?" Master Windu asks her, deadpan.
Margo flushes, unused to being the center of attention. "I think that it's a possibility, yes," she corrects, trying not to sound as prickly as she feels. "You yourself said that we had to account for all possible explanations, Master Windu."
Mace inclines his head in acknowledgment at that, expression stormy.
"He can't have faked his death!" Anakin exclaims, wide-eyed. "He can't have. We'd have—Master Qui-Gon would have felt it. I thought—your Force bond was broken!" Anakin sounds almost frantic as he wildly grasps for explanations. He turns to his Master in a blur of mournful blue eyes and pouting lips. Margo feels her heart twist a little for the boy.
"The Force bond was indeed broken on Naboo," Qui-Gon says softly, like the words pain him. Sorrow flickers through his eyes, and Margo reaches out to put a hand on the older man's shoulder, comforting. He thanks her with a small incline of his head. "Masters, with all due respect. I felt the bond between us shatter, in a way only death could produce. Obi-Wan's—Obi-Wan's death," he swallows, "left a dark void in my heart. It's still there, Masters. There's no way... no way that Kenobi could have lived. I'd have felt it."
"Ripples through the Force, Kenobi's death sent," Yoda hums, thoughtful. "On Coruscant, felt it, we did. Interesting, your point is, Qui-Gon."
Jedi Master Coleman Trebor makes a hissing sound deep in his throat. "The photographic evidence suggests otherwise," he bites out. Margo feels Anakin, Qui-Gon, and Quinlan all tense beside her.
Anakin scowls at Trebor. His Padawan braid brushes his shoulder when he shakes his head angrily. "Are you calling my Master a liar?"
And there it is, Margo thinks humorlessly as she watches all of the Masters reach for their lightsabers, out of pure habit, at Anakin's tone. Anakin Skywalker's talent of not being able to leave well enough alone.
Trebor's reaction to Anakin's words is... troubling, however. As a Jedi Master, he should be above petty insults and disagreements. But right now, he sounds like he wants to throttle the Padawan. "Put a stop to your Padawan's insolence, Qui-Gon," he hisses in his guttural voice, "before I do it for you."
"My insolence?" Anakin demands, true to form, as he straightens to try and gain an edge over the other Jedi. His voice sounds almost shrill at this point. "You're the one who insinuated Master Qui-Gon was lying! You're crazy if you think he'd do something like that!"
Trebor jumps to his feet in a swift movement, snarling, "Don't call me crazy, boy."
Anakin bristles, moving into a defensive posture. All the Masters around him grab for their sabers, but before they can ignite their weapons, Windu gets to his feet and raises a hand. "Sit down, Master Trebor," Mace orders in the coldest voice Margo has ever heard him use. Scowling, Trebor returns to his seat. The Masters around him let go of their lightsabers.
"See, Master," Anakin fumes to Qui-Gon, who looks supremely concerned. "He—"
"And you," Windu snaps. "Skywalker. Kindly watch your tone when speaking to a member of the High Council." His tone implies that there's nothing kind about the demand.
Anakin looks sullen, but he nods. Qui-Gon sighs and steps forward. "I apologize for my Padawan's insolence, Master Trebor. Master Windu," he tells the surrounding members of the Council. "His emotions are running quite high right now."
Anakin looks a little bit betrayed at that.
"Tell Master Trebor to keep his pants on," Quinlan says to Mace in the cheerful tone he usually uses to call out the Council's bullshit. If Margo didn't know him so well, she wouldn't be able to recognize the grief still clouding his voice. "None of us want to see that. I'm sure he has a tiny dick."
Trebor splutters, managing, "That is not true. In fact—"
"Quinlan Vos," seethes Windu in that no-nonsense tone. "If I hear one more word out of you that doesn't concern the issue at hand, I will have you removed from this Council Chamber. Am I understood?"
Quinlan just smirks and nods.
At this point, Master Windu looks like he's about to throw all four of them out of the window. Margo reaches over and grabs Anakin's arm and hisses, "Just—shut up and let me talk, okay?"
Anakin looks stunned when she pulls away, so she takes it as a yes. "Master Windu," Margo starts, trying to sound as respectful as she can despite the circumstances. "I—I have a proposal."
Windu and Yoda share one of their frustratingly elusive looks. "Go on," Mace says after a moment. He grips the arm of his chair a little tighter, Margo notices.
"Let me and Padawan Skywalker check this out," she tells the Council. "We're the obvious choice—Master Qui-Gon and Master Quinlan are too emotionally attached. But Anakin and I remember Obi-Wan's Force signature. If anyone can find him, it'll be us."
Quinlan scoffs at the part about attachment, but she ignores him.
"Send us to Nar Shadaa," Margo continues, almost pleading. The Council looks contemplative, and she doesn't know what to think about that. "Let us look into these rumors. If they're a load of bantha shit—"
"Knight King," Saesee Tiin warns. She brushes him off with barely a glance.
"—then we'll come straight back to Coruscant. If not..." She trails off, searching Windu's face. "If not, then we'll call for backup."
Mace is quiet for a few moments. "Nar Shadaa is dangerous," he warns. "If he's there, he'll be deep within the underworld. Hidden away. Are you sure you want to do this?"
Margo nods, not trusting herself to speak.
"I don't like this," sighs Trebor, in his usual dickish way. "Putting the fate of Kenobi and this Order in the hands of children?"
Anakin looks mutinous and opens his mouth—probably to ruin all of Margo's hard work, damn it—but she silences him with a look.
"With all due respect, Master Trebor," she says instead, sickly sweet, "I have been a Knight for two years now. I am twenty-three years old. I am one of the youngest Knights to have ever passed the Trials, but I think I have earned my title. Of course, you would know all about earning your title, wouldn't you?"
If Coleman Trebor was human, he would be flushing angrily. "Why, you little—"
"I happen to think it's a good idea," says Plo Koon brightly, cutting off the Vurk Jedi Master. Anakin looks delighted at Margo's subtle implication that Trebor paid his way onto the Jedi Council. Mace just looks tired.
Qui-Gon's voice is very, very gentle when he says, "Plo..."
"Skywalker needs experience," Master Plo points out. He holds Qui-Gon's gaze, and something unspoken passes between the two men. "He has much to learn. And Margo is a good teacher."
Margo bristles a little at that—she hadn't suggested this plan in order to teach karking Anakin Skywalker—but the answer seems to satisfy Qui-Gon. He steps back with a nod.
"Then I concur," he says, with a poignant look at Anakin. "I leave Obi-Wan's fate to you two."
Quinlan claps Margo on the shoulder and she turns to face him, her heart pounding. "There is no one I trust more to find Obi-Wan Kenobi than you," he tells her quietly, voice fierce. The entire range of Kiffar emotion flickers through that gaze. "Bring him home, Margo."
"I will," she promises, and she's not prepared for the way that he throws his arms around her and holds her tight. The Council shifts, uncomfortable with the display of affection in the way that only Jedi could be, but Margo just focuses on the warmth of her former Master's body.
When she pulls away, Yoda and Windu share a look again. "Put it to a vote, this Council will," Yoda says finally.
"All in favor of Knight King's proposal?" Mace prompts.
Seven hands go up—Masters Mace Windu, Yoda, Plo Koon, Ki-Adi-Mundi, Adi Gallia, Shaak Ti, and Depa Billaba. Margo feels her stomach twist into knots again.
"And all those opposed?"
The remainder of the Council—five Masters—lift their hands: Eeth Koth, Saesee Tiin, Oppo Rancisis, Even Piell, and of course Coleman Trebor himself.
"It is decided," says Plo Koon. "Knight King and Padawan Skywalker will go to Nar Shadaa and track down Obi-Wan Kenobi. If he still lives."
"What about the Chancellor's request?" asks Shaak Ti in her melodious tones.
"The Chancellor's request?" Qui-Gon sounds concerned, but he clasps his hands in front of him. "What request?"
Windu sighs. "Chancellor Palpatine had requested yours and Anakin's presence for a special matter. Senator Amidala needs a security detail and he thought you two were the best fit. It's no matter. We'll assign another Knight alongside you, Master Jinn."
Margo winces at the mention of Senator Amidala. Just as she'd expected, Anakin's eyes grow wide and he demands, "Why does Padmé—sorry, Senator Amidala—need a security detail? Is someone trying to kill her?"
"Anakin," Qui-Gon warns under his breath. "Now is not the time." To Mace, he says, "I see. Well, there's no reason why Quinlan and I can't handle the situation. Tell Chancellor Palpatine we'll be on our way shortly."
"Signing me up for missions already, old man?" Vos teases, causing Jinn's lips to turn up in a grin.
Windu sends Vos a murderous look and says, "Out. All of you. The Council needs to deliberate. King, Skywalker... pack your things. We'll arrange for your transport in the main launch bay. Be there at oh-two-hundred hours."
Margo nods, performs her bow, and then grabs Anakin by the arm and drags him out of that Chamber, ignoring his exclamation of protest. If she's a little more forceful than she intended, then, well. He'll live.
As she rounds the corner, Anakin in tow, she can hear Quinlan and Qui-Gon chuckling behind her.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
"I can't believe you made me give up the chance to see Padmé again for this."
Margo resists the urge to scream and instead gives Anakin a sickly sweet smile. She leans forward in the copilot's seat, legs tucked up under her, so that she's sprawled ungracefully in the small space. "I didn't make you do anything. You're the one who was pissing off Master Trebor. And Master Windu. And Master Tiin—"
"Okay, okay!" the Padawan grumbles, shooting her a dirty look. "Trebor deserved it, though," he adds after a beat.
She resists the urge to pinch the top of her nose in frustration."Master Trebor, Anakin. They're never going to make you a Knight if you can't be bothered to call them the right title."
Anakin shrugs, nonchalant. "Everyone knows he bought his way onto the Council. He's useless with a saber. I could beat him in single combat."
Margo laughs despite herself, and Anakin gives her a shocked smile. If she didn't know him so well, she would almost find it cute—too bad she doesn't find hormonal teenage boys with anger issues and an inability to respect authority figures attractive.
"What you said to Master Trebor was great, by the way," he tells her, almost as an afterthought, as he pilots the small ship up towards Coruscant's atmosphere. The Temple grows smaller beneath them, almost out of sight. "He was so mad."
"You're the one who pissed him off," Margo reminds him again. She crosses her arms over her chest, feeling oddly defensive. She's not used to Anakin praising her like this—it makes her stomach perform a series of flips.
Anakin just shakes his head. Once they're clear of the planet's gravity field, he reaches forward and pulls the lever for hyperspace. The Core falls away, giving way to the blue streaks of stars. Margo lets herself relax into the familiar sight of hyperspace.
"The Perlemian Trade Route should take us pretty close to Nar Shadaa," Anakin offers after a minute, catching her off guard. He rubs the back of his neck, Padawan braid swinging with the motion. "We'll have to drop out of hyperspace in ten hours or so to switch routes, since Nar Shadaa's in Hutt Space, but until then it's point-and-shoot."
Margo knows this, of course—she's had plenty of experience navigating to the Outer Rim worlds from Coruscant in her two years as a Knight—but she just nods. When he finishes speaking, she says suddenly, "What do you remember of Obi-Wan Kenobi?"
Anakin's eyes widen at the change in subject. He shoots her a confused look, but answers truthfully. "Not much," he says simply. "I was nine when I met him. He died the next day—I mean, I thought he did." He corrects himself hastily, almost tripping over the words.
Margo frowns, unsettled. "I thought you and Kenobi were closer than that."
"Margo, I was nine," he says, sounding exasperated. "All I cared about was speeders and becoming a Jedi."
"Not much has changed, I see," she snipes back automatically. The corner of Anakin's mouth turns up in a grin at the familiar teasing tone. "I guess the only people who really knew Obi-Wan were Master Qui-Gon and Master Quinlan."
"I thought you knew him."
"I encountered him," she corrects. "Briefly. He sparred with me once, when I was a Padawan."
Anakin shifts in his seat, and Margo is struck by just how much she's enjoying this conversation. Anakin has definitely changed. She doesn't know if that's a good thing quite yet, though.
Anakin twists around in the pilot's chair to face her, all pretense of disinterest gone from his expression. "What was he like?" he asks, almost eagerly.
"Handsome." The word slips out of Margo's mouth before she can stop herself, and her cheeks flush a bright red when Anakin laughs. "Stop it! He was. He was kind, funny, loyal—"
"Sounds like a package deal." Anakin's smirk is audible.
"—and he was also one of the best swordsmen in the Order!" Margo finishes hotly, glaring at the younger Jedi. "I wouldn't expect you to understand!"
"As a Padawan?" Anakin sounds skeptical. "I thought he wasn't anywhere near being Knighted!"
She shakes her head. "Master Qui-Gon was going to Knight him in order to train you."
It's a well-known fact amongst the Jedi Order, but it seems to catch Anakin off guard. Some of the color leaves his face, and he stares out of the viewport for a long moment. Margo bristles—was it something I said?—but before she can ask him if he's okay, he speaks.
His voice is quiet and controlled, totally unlike the Anakin Skywalker she knows, when he says, "Margo, do you think—if he is alive, and those holovids weren't a load of bantha shit—do you think he blames me? For taking his Master away from him?"
Margo thinks about it. "I don't know," she says finally, opting to be truthful. "Anakin—he might. If he is alive, we don't know where he's been for the past ten years. It's a little sketchy."
Something nags at her, but she pushes it down. Margo doesn't want to contemplate the possibilities of Obi-Wan's prolonged disappearance, but there's only one explanation that fits. She doesn't share her thoughts with Anakin, but the concept troubles her all the same.
Always two, there are; no more, no less. A Master and an Apprentice.
Margo makes herself turn away from that train of thought. She doesn't let herself think about the Line of Bane, the politics within the Old Sith Order, or how killing one's superior is a common form of promotion amongst the Sith. Instead, she says, "I'm hungry. Did you grab some of those ration bars before we left?"
Anakin, unaware of her dark thoughts, makes a face. "I hate ration bars," he complains bitterly as Margo stands up to raid the back of the small ship. She finds the box of ration bars and tosses one to Anakin.
He catches it and brings it up to read the label. "Jogan fruit. Not bad," he allows, tearing it open despite his earlier complaints. Margo settles back in as she opens the packaging on her own bar.
"Wait," she says, bringing her ration bar up as if in a toast. "To Obi-Wan Kenobi. And Jogan fruit."
Anakin grins and taps his bar against hers. "To Obi-Wan Kenobi and Jogan fruit," he repeats, and he bites into it wholeheartedly.
Margo looks down at her ration bar and then back up at the lines of stars streaking past the ship's viewport. "I have a bad feeling about this," she mutters, mostly to herself, before taking a bite out of the bar.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
Somewhere in the Outer Rim, hundreds of thousands of light years away from Coruscant, an auburn-haired man stiffens in his chair. His companion, sitting in the seat beside him at the bar, shoots him a concerned look. "What is it?" she drawls as she takes another sip of her drink.
He frowns, running a hand through his hair. The cantina is loud and filled with people of all species, so he's not worried about their conversation being overhead, but something is off. "I'm—I'm not sure," the man finally says, hesitant. "I thought I felt something... someone."
"Someone?" She sounds unimpressed, watching him carefully with those piercing eyes. He feels a sudden rush of anger—she'll never understand—and sneers at her.
"Someone whose presence I haven't felt for ten years, Ventress," he snaps. If he relishes the way that she flinches back at his tone, well... his Master doesn't have to know that. "Jedi."
Her eyes widen in realization. "No," she breathes out, reading his Force signature as easily as reading a book.
The man closes his eyes in lieu of responding and reaches out with his senses. The Force hums around him in a familiar way as he searches the hyperspace routes for the presences he had felt earlier.
Anakin Skywalker and Margo King shine so brightly that the man is almost blinded, even from thousands of light years away. He's left to wonder how he could have ever missed them.
"Skywalker?" asks the woman, clenching a fist.
The man nods. "And he's brought a friend."
He pushes down the wave of memories that threaten to overwhelm him at the feel of the girl's presence: a grinning Kiffar, hands settled on his young Padawan's shoulders. His old best friend. What would Quinlan Vos do if he saw Obi-Wan Kenobi stuck here, like this, having Fallen so far?
The man's fists clench again at his sides at the thought of young Anakin Skywalker, on his way to Nar Shadaa with only a Knight for company. So Qui-Gon Jinn wants to send his darling pet Jedi to kill me? he thinks savagely. Let him try.
"They know you're alive," Ventress says, breaking him out of his thoughts. It's not a question. "Kenobi—we have to get out of here."
Obi-Wan Kenobi stares at his drink, eyes flickering gold for a moment at the anger that floods his veins. "Let them find me," he says, voice dark. "I'll be ready."
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
wc: 3.2k
so, here's chapter two! thank you everyone, and special thanks to marsymanv for your lovely comments!! alternate title for this chapter: me shitting on coleman trebor. i really, really, really hate coleman trebor. the guy dies because of four blaster bolts that he easily could have deflected, which makes him the worst jedi ever—how was he ever elected to the council? plus i think he'd be a total jackass to anakin in canon. so here ya go.
thanks for sticking with me! i promise we'll see more of the man himself in the next few chapters... sexc sith obi times amirite. also, i changed some of the title scrawl in the first chapter of this book, so you might want to go back and read it (i messed up—anakin is not going to be security for padmé, quinlan is).
i hate writing council scenes bc there's just so many masters, and group scenes aren't my thing. but i also love writing them bc i like seeing how frustrated i can make mace windu?? lmao.
please vote and leave some comments! i wanna know what you think.
love, grace <3