#I'm sure this must've been done before but I did white balance on their skin so I'm posting it here too for my audience of two sksks | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dindooku · 3 years

Text

rating: E (swearing and violent themes)

word count: 6,572

tw - not explicitly said but can be interpreted as at suicide

And you thought that suddenly waking up on a planet in another Galaxy, only to be accompanied by a space wizard…a Jedi…was the greatest thing ever. Oh no… you were wrong. Granted, that was all great and everything, but it was no match for the fact that you were granted a lie in — a grand one at that.

You can’t remember the last time you let your body wake you up, not an incessant alarm clock or the hailing of bullets. It was weird, but definitely not un-welcomed.

You rolled over to face away from the wall, yawning and grumbling as the hands of sleep slowly lifted their trance. Slowly blinking open your eyes, you suddenly jolt up, remembering where you are, then crying out a curse at the now, new forming lump on the top of your head from the ceiling you’ve just head-butted. “Fuck—,” you mumble as you slowly roll out of bed, lightly rubbing your hand at the sore spot on the back of your head. You take a glance at your watch, 11:13 AM. Jesus, I really must've been tired. Placing your feet on the floor, you flex your toes and submit to the urge to stretch, grumbling again as the aches and pains of years of warfare click and pinch your body. You decide to wrap yourself up in the blanket Obi-Wan had given you as you trudge out into the front room.

But, it was empty, no sign of life. Surely Obi-Wan would’ve told you if he was going out, or leaving you? Either way, you make your way over to the fridge, hoping to find some scraps to munch on.

A sandwich catches your attention, and you quickly wolf it down without question. If it was Obi-Wan’s, you’d just make him another. He’d understand.

Peering around the room again, you test your voice, “Obi-Wan?” Nothing, “Obi-Wan, are you here?” Again, silence. Assuming he’s gone out, you decide it's probably best you get some fresh air, you’ve never been one for sitting around and doing nothing, so you quickly get dressed into a fresh set of clothes and head out into the temple.

Although you’d never been to a Monk temple or anything grandiose like that, you could only assume that this is what it would be like. The halls were quiet, but the occasional patter of footsteps or rage of children laughing broke the silence and tickled that sense of security that so deeply hides away in your chest. You aren’t used to being so…relaxed. For years your body has been on high alert, always assessing, reassessing, waiting for someone to attack you, to hurt you — yet here... you don’t even have to give defending yourself a passing thought. It’s just, completely and utterly calm, serene, balanced.

Before you know it, you’ve paced the halls for the last half hour and now you are stood outside some set of what appears to be... Dojos?

Glancing around again to make sure no one is watching, you gently place a hand on one of the doors, slowly edging it open. You chance a peek inside, but to your satisfaction, it is empty. You quietly step in, making sure not to make any noise as you close the door behind you. Stepping into the room, it is clear that it is some sort of training area, and upon further inspection your suspicions are correct. Around the edge of the room lay different pieces of equipment, which look like obstacles of sorts. You glance back around the Dojo, basking in the natural light that is pouring in through the high windows. The simple, creamy white walls are sturdy, but don’t feel overbearing, or claustrophobic — like before, it's just peaceful in here.

Letting your gaze roll over the room, you come across a cupboard in one corner. Making your way over, you make note of the soft floor beneath you, the cushiony fabric lightly hugging the soles of your feet, dreamlike. Reaching into the cupboard, you’re quickly met with the familiar array of weapons, although these are…different. Surrounding one edge, an array of combat and throwing knives sit comfortably among one another, along the other sits small staffs and odd-shaped objects you’ve never seen before. But in the middle sits a familiar sight, an odd, metal cylinder. Picking it up, you eye it for a second. It's constructed of metal and is about a hands length or two long. Along the bottom sits black, corrugated slats, and as you look up, a stainless steel-like tube makes up the main body to the top where it thins dramatically into a golden copper colour but is then fanned out into a large flat disk. In the centre of the cylinder, sits a red button. And, if you have ever learnt anything from horror or sci-fi movies, is that you should definitely not press the red button.

So what do you do?

You press the red button.

Instantly the room is filled with a violent blue and the electric hum of raw, static energy. The moment chills you to the bone, and the shock of such a marvellous, beautiful object stuns you. You absolutely, 100% could not have guessed that was what the red button would do. And, as if the inner child was pulling puppet strings within your mind, you slowly back up and wave the funny looking laser sword in front of you. The majestic hum of the blade tickles your eardrums, and you can’t help the intoxicating smile that is now riddling your face, scrunching at your forehand and around your eyes, the emotion of happiness and utter awe broadcasted by your innate reaction to such a feat of beauty.

You are transfixed.

But, you should know better, because as you turn around Obi-Wan is staring right at you — and he too is struggling to fight the fantastic grin gracing his face.

“So I see you’ve found my lightsaber,” he mutters.

“This..this is yours?” You whisper, still not taking your eyes off of the mesmerising blue blade.

“Yes, all Jedi have them, they’re called lightsabers. Unfortunately, I must ask for it back,”

“Yes, yes of course, sorry…I—I shouldn’t have touched it, I just, it—” you stutter out, trying to find a reason as to why you touched his stuff other than it looked cool.

“It’s quite alright, Darling, no need to panic,” he chuckles, reaching around you to switch it off so he could place it on his belt, “but I do believe we have some training to do, so…” he trails off, walking over to the cupboard to place the lightsaber back onto its stand, as well as removing his cloak, placing it neatly on the floor. He walks back over to you and places a hand on your shoulder. “Are you ok, my dear?” He asks, genuine concern now threatening to take over his grin.

“Yes…yes, I—I’ve just never seen anything like it. Its—,”

“Beautiful. I know,” he mumbles, giving your shoulder another tight squeeze to reiterate his point, “But, right now, I need to see you fight,” he says, quickly stepping back and getting into a ready position.

“…Fight, you want to, to fight me?” You ask, not quite sure whether he is joking or not.

“Yes, Dear. Loth-Cat got your tongue?” He chides, a smidge of sarcasm lacing his words.

Oh, ok, he wants to play.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to hurt you,” grinning back, you take a step back and calm yourself, standing broad and powerful.

“Hurt me? You could never, darling I’m a Jedi—”, But before he could finish his sentence, you’ve landed a nice, heavy thud of a kick to his chest, which sends his falling onto his back. That's odd, he thinks, I should be able to feel when she’s about to do something, I…what? Obi-Wan is visibly confused, and so you stop and crouch to the ground instantly, patting down his chest to make sure you weren’t too heavy-footed to start off with.

“I—I'm sorry, I shouldn’t have done that,” you say, panicking a little as you pat him down, checking for injuries or any broken bones.

“No—no, it’s me, I--I got distracted,” he mutters, still slightly put out at his inability to use the Force to predict your actions.

“No, I shouldn’t have—” but before you could finish, he’s gripped you by the ankles and is rolling you onto your back. Instantly you roll onto your front and scramble forwards, turning around as you both ready yourself into your respective fighting stances. Again, Obi-Wan lunged at you, but this time you dropped down, kicking your right leg out to trip him from behind. As he fell he grabbed your collar, bringing you down on top of him so that now you were straddling his hips. But, niceties aside, you were in full combat mindset and you were out to win — your body had trained for this for years, and every move was now muscle memory, you were practically a war machine now, designed and manipulated to kill.

So, you braced to the side, jumping back up again to the other side of the room. Obi-Wan followed suit, except — wait. His belt was gone, where…you had it. You had your right hand wrapped a couple of times in a loop, and your left was tightly gripping it as if it were a whip. And that's exactly what you intended to use it for.

Flicking your right wrist, you shot the harsh leather belt out, cracking it just a few centimetres away from the skin on Obi-Wan’s forehead, only then pulling it back, snapping it taut. The toothy grin that pinched at Obi-Wan's eyes didn't put you off like it should've, and instead had the complete and opposite effect, shooting a wildfire of intense heat surging to your core. You were enjoying this way too much, and by the looks of it... so was Obi-Wan, though he'd never admit it. So, you'd use this to your advantage, cracking the belt a couple more times, letting the buckle ting and snap at the pull of your wrist. It kept him at bay for a few moments, but only briefly. Eventually, he lunged forwards, aiming to land a punch as he bound towards you, but you twisted to the side, wrapping his wrist in his own belt. He twisted around, not hesitating to throw a punch to your right cheek. You should’ve expected that, you did just threaten to whip the man, but nonetheless, the thrill of a hard punch to your jaw woke you up. No stupid mistakes. The anger at your mistake was now bubbling, so you quickly wrapped the retreating hand he’d used to punch you into the belt, binding his wrists to yours. He let out a sarcastic chuckle as the realisation hit him — but so did you, both of you reaping the benefits of your...interaction. The smirk on your face grows a little wider now, the true fun only just beginning.

You shifted your weight harshly to the left, throwing him in a 180 to disorient and gain momentum. You then dropped to your knees, only to then twist and bring your entwined wrists above your head and then yanking hard, down over your right shoulder, bringing him onto his back; his head now facing you as his body was strewn away from your thighs. You quickly unwind his wrists, forcing the belt down over his neck to strangle.“Tiger got your tongue, Master?” The satisfaction in your voice over the play on words was clear. Oh, you loved proving people wrong, especially when they pretty much do it for you.

He gently patted your wrist to tap out, and you released him from the hold. Choking a little, he sits up and crosses his legs as he turns to face you, encouraging you to follow suit and do the same. You now both sat cross-legged opposite each-other, knees just lightly touching.

“Where did you learn to do that?” He asked, rubbing slightly at his neck, still grinning despite the discomfort.

“I—I had to learn it myself. In the army, you see, I was the only women in my training battalion, so I was always pitted to fight and train against men, who, if you take a look at me, were typically a lot larger and stronger than me — physically. So, to give myself a fighting chance, I had to play their weaknesses to my advantage,” you said, smiling a little towards the end.

“Go on,” Obi-Wan encourages.

“Well, typically the men would think that they’re going to win, simply because I’m a woman and they’re bigger or stronger than me, but I’m a lover of physics, so I used that to my advantage. They weren’t especially quick or agile, and often they relied on their brute strength to win fights — that's only so good if you can actually land a punch,” you say, harbouring an infectious smug grin as Obi-Wan realised what you were saying.

“Smart girl,” he says, returning your smirk with an equally fictitious grin of his own. And at the use of his words, you blush a little, ducking your head in an effort to hide your quite clear arousal at the specific concoction of praise.

“Yes, well, I figured if I could avoid their punches and use their own weight against them, the odds were in my favour, you could say I would have the high ground... So, like when I took your belt, I used your momentum against you, which A, — means you end up on the floor or out of place, and B, — I use minimal energy to do so, harbouring your efforts to suit mine. It’s all just simple mechanics, really,” you joke, but pleased with your explanation.

“Good…again,” Obi-Wan says. And with that, you both spend the afternoon training, learning from one another, morphing and smelting your own techniques with his, and vice versa, to a point where you were working in complete unison.

_____

“Master Kenobi, you’re needed immediately in the Council Room, it is urgent—,” comes a voice, a smaller younger creature of sorts as they burst into the training room, catching you both off guard. They’re panting as if they’ve just finished running a marathon.

“Yes, yes, of course, I’ll be there right away. Thank you,” he commands, instantly retrieving his cloak and lightsaber from the cupboard. You follow his movements with your eyes, waiting for his instructions. He walks to the door and is halfway out when he stops, turning towards you.

“Well, come on! We can’t leave them waiting!” He says, waving his arm in a beckoning way to hurry you up.

_____

“Skywalker, you are to accompany Master Kenobi and Amy to the Mid-Rim planet to resolve the escalating tensions,” says Mace Windu.

“Go, you will,” Yoda confirms.

“Yes Masters, although, are we sure it is safe for Amy to be travelling with us?” Anakin asks.

“Trained, is she not, Master Kenobi?” Yoda asks, turning his head towards Obi-Wan.

“Yes, she is. It was evident from our training today that her skill set is…unique, and I feel as though the 501st and 212th will greatly benefit from her direction and expertise,” Obi-Wan assures.

“What do you mean unique, Master?” Anakin mutters, not bothering to hide the smirk on his face. And if looks could kill, Anakin would be facing an early grave as the sharpened daggers of Obi-Wan’s glare was enough to puncture even the most protected of souls.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan starts, cursing the younger man with just the use of his name, “Amy is very skilled in combat, and I feel as though she has more to offer us than what we can offer her,” Obi-Wan punctuates.

“Yes, I am quite keen to see this style of fighting myself, Obi-Wan,” Mace says, rubbing his chin in thought, “Maybe even an incorporation of Vaapad could be organised,” He adds.

“I can ask, although I am sure there will be no objection, Master Windu,” Obi-Wan returns, nodding slightly at the offer. He knows Vaapad would be incredibly beneficial to not only your own fighting style but also that of Windu.

“Midichlorian count, know she does?” Yoda asks, changing the subject to something of more gravity.

“No, I—I have not broached that subject yet. Her energy in the force is something I have never experienced, Masters, as I am sure you can sense it too. I feel as though if we inform her of her abilities, we may not be able to offer the right support or, the fact of the matter being, we do not know what powers she does have,” Obi-Wan says gravely.

No one truly understands what is causing your disturbance in the Force to be so…unruly. They understand that the force is not necessarily embraced on Earth and that the human race is not Force-sensitive. But that does not explain your unique signature. It is not like the usual signature a Force-sensitive may harbour, which is outgoing and pure. Their signature reflects their emotion, their current state of mind. For Obi-Wan, it curls slowly in a smooth, milky cloud of crystalline and sea foamy blues, caressing his form with every breath. However, yours is almost…reversed. Like the light isn’t radiating out from you, but into you — as if you’re sucking in and absorbing the energy as you move. You’re not a vessel to the force, as one would normally expect, instead, you are a drain. And even though the Jedi are encouraged not to feel fear, it is unspoken among the Council members that their unease is not uncalled for. You are dangerous, unhinged, and they haven’t the faintest idea what to do about it.

“Talk to her, you must, important her understanding, it is — only problems it will cause, secrecy will. Trust you Obi-wan, she must,” Yoda says, and the council room is silent. Everyone is contemplating the potentialities of this arrangement, but if anyone were to calm and train the unpredictable nature that is Amy, then it is Obi-Wan; the great negotiator of the Republic.

“Yes, Master Yoda, I will see to it that we have this discussion. To add…what are we to do of her training? Must we teach her the way of the Jedi? She will have to face trials, and as we all know, she is not attuned to the Jedi way,” Obi-Wan asks.

“Hmm…” Yoda ponders, his ears dropping and his attention shifting elsewhere, deep in contemplation, “Meditate I will, future uncertain, it is,” He says. And with that, he bashes his stick to the ground and the meeting is adjourned.

_____

You’re waiting anxiously outside of the council chambers. You couldn’t necessarily hear what was going on inside, but the general energy was…stifling. It was tense, and more than one person was obviously displeased with the current situation. But, as the doors to the chamber swung open, it was quite apparent who was causing the tension.

Anakin and Obi-Wan storm off down one of the corridors, and though you know it is rude to spy in on conversations, you only wanted to see if there was any way you’d be able to help. That and the fact that you just couldn’t help yourself, the SAS recon training made your skin itch with the need to gather intel, so, you silently watched from afar, keeping enough distance to make sure they couldn’t see you, but just close enough so you could listen in.

“What kind of nonsense is this, she is not trained in the form of Jedi, she will get killed out there, Obi-Wan!” Anakin boomed, his frustration clear.

“She is more than capable of handling herself, Anakin, trust me when I say that she will not be easily intimidated,” Obi-Wan instructed, placing a hand on Anakin’s shoulder, bringing them to a halt just next to a pillar.

“Yes, Obi-Wan, I understand, but she has no idea what she is getting herself into, she’s from another Galaxy for Maker’s sake! Think master, if she is to come with us, she must know,” Anakin demands. Know what?

“Anakin, I know. I do not feel comfortable bringing her along with us on this mission either, but her skill set is unmatched - she has experience beyond her years and her expertise could be game-changing!” Obi-Wan pleads, shaking the hand that is gripping Anakin’s shoulder.

“Game-changing yes, but she isn’t a Jedi, Master—how can we trust her?” Anakin whispers, he knows he is asking dangerous questions, but he cannot rid the fact at hand, you’re dangerous, and he doesn’t want to trigger a chain of unfortunate events which, he feels, the two of them will not be able to control.

“Anakin, please, she must come with us. This is a test of sorts, we must see what she is capable of so that we can react accordingly. Keeping her locked up in the temple will not solve the problem, only make it worse. We must realise her potential before it becomes unhinged,” Obi-Wan mutters. Unhinged…potential? What are they on about?

“Master, with all due respect, I do not feel comfortable fighting alongside a ticking time bomb,” Anakin snarls, his brows furrowing at the idea.

“Anakin, I do not appreciate your tone. She is not as dangerous as you are making her out to be, your ill-received emotions will only make things worse. You must have faith in me, young one. We must trust in the Force, she was brought to use for a reason,” Obi-wan insists, lining his voice with a bit more force this time, making sure his point comes across.

“I suppose you’re right Master…but that doesn’t mean I am comfortable with this, she still has—negative potential,” Anakin whispers, removing Obi-Wan’s hand from his shoulder and turning to step away, “I just hope you’re prepared to do what is necessary if she were to Fall, Obi-Wan,” Anakin mutters before completely turning away and leaving Obi-Wan alone in the hallway. His shoulders slump, and you notice that this is the stance of a beaten, conflicted man.

Without wanting to startle him, you slowly make yourself known to the outside world as you cautiously step into the hallway, bringing Obi-Wan’s attention to you.

You can practically feel the tension rolling off of him, and if the look on his face didn’t say anything, you knew that Obi-Wan Kenobi was in need of a hug. You slowly strode up to him, maintaining the soft, but stern eye contact to make sure that he stood in place and just as you were within reaching distance, you grabbed him, pulling him into your arms and wrapping him tightly in your presence. You tucked your head into his chest and listened to the slowly decreasing beat of his heart. He tripped back a little, and a small gasp left his lips, but just as quick as he had moved back, he moved twice as quick into your embrace, tucking his head down and into your shoulder.

Obi-Wan knew this was wrong. He knew he shouldn’t be seeking console in others, and that as a Jedi he should release these feelings of anger and frustration to the Force, not rely on the comfort of others. But it just felt so good to be in your arms, and for you to be in his. He’d not felt the warmth of a hug in too long, and since Satine, he never trusted himself to ever let go if he found himself in one again — and he supposes now that he should have listened to himself because, as time slowly moves on, his resolve on letting go of you is quickly wearing thin. He chastises himself for being so open and flirtatious, for insinuating plainly devilish intentions, intentions he is not sure he will ever be able to allow to come to fruition, intentions he wants but knows he cannot get.

“Obi, talk to me,” and that just about cuts it. The sweet, muffled voice grabs him by the heart and corners him — the empty, hollow shell of his capacity to care and love others is now being forced open and the sand timer has started ticking. He knows now it’s not a matter of if, but a matter of when. And that realisation alone terrifies him. He can’t lose another, he can’t go through that pain again. Too many times has the sand vial been broken, and too many times has it been hurriedly repaired and glued together, only for the missing pieces to allow sand to trickle out and collect in pools, sinking into hollow feelings of despair and loneliness. But now, you’re here, and the tighter you squeeze, the less sand falls from his grip. And so, he understands, it’s you that is keeping him together, it’s you that is allowing his version of time to return to normal, to reverse the entropy of darkness threatening to consume his soul.

“I—I feel so conflicted Amy,” Obi-Wan mutters.

“I, I think you know what you need to do, and I think you know that you need to be a bit lighter on yourself, to trust your instincts a bit more,” you say, trying to reassure him that his feelings are not invalid, “Sometimes, Obi, following the rules isn’t always the right thing to do. We learnt this the hard way on Earth, we all flocked like sheep to cater the needs of those who demanded it, instead of looking at the bigger picture and fixing the problem at hand. You are a wise man Obi-Wan, and I have complete faith in whatever decisions you make, you must let go Obi-Wan, let go of the feelings that plague you so new ones can heal you,” And you punctuate your meaning by squeezing just that little bit tighter.

Obi-Wan sighs, you were right. He had to let go of those past feelings and focus on the bigger picture. Grieving is a natural part of life, but the whole purpose of grieving is to feel and let go. Holding onto the past will only suppress the future, and he knows what he must do, he knows what is right, he just hopes that he has the strength to do it.

You tug on Obi-Wan a little tighter again, before letting go. You move your head from his chest, but bring your gaze back up to him, holding onto both of his biceps, you sigh, “I’ve never been one for politics Obi-Wan, but I have spent my fair share working under those that rule. You have a choice in this, I did not have that luxury. Do what feels right, do what brings you comfort, do not sacrifice your own needs for the needs of others who would not return the favour to you. Sometimes... you have to be selfish.” You finish.

Obi-Wan lifts his head and just stares at you. Everything you said was exactly what he needed to hear, exactly what he’d been telling himself but refusing to believe. But, because the words came from you, unprompted and honest, he must do his duty and believe them. Yes, he must do what feels right. But what he feels right now is definitely not what he should be thinking, as his attention finds itself upon your lips.

He’s drawn like a ship in a Tracta beam, he can’t look away. He wants so badly to kiss you, to take that pretty mouth of yours for himself. He wants so badly to show you how he feels, to show his hidden, deep desires to seek pleasure in you.

And you gaze up at him, following his attention and realising that he too is thinking what you’re thinking. Your heart is practically soaring right now. Never have you fallen so hard for someone, ever. You are just under some sort of spell, both of you frozen in time and not wanting to crank the lever to start it back up again; like entropy has met its equilibrium.

That's when you find yourself leaning up, pushing slowly on your tiptoes to meet the invitation of his lips. Except you can't, because Obi-Wan has stepped back, and has decided that now of all times is to fiddle with his belt and reach into his pocket and turn on his communicator.

Hurt doesn’t even begin to cover it.

You get the hint. He doesn’t want anything to do with you. He just wants to wind you up, make you believe he wants you, and then leave you hanging, each and every time. Well, you’re not falling for it again. You know your way back to your quarters, and you know its best if you just leave without saying anything, making your way back to the privacy of your bedroom to seethe there.

But you don’t. You’re pissed.

“Fuck you.”

Obi-Wan freezes mid-conversation with Cody, who was just prepping the ship for departure tomorrow morning. His gaze cuts to you, eyes now alight with something you’ve never seen before, a darkened, slow-burning fire that all but fuels your own anger.

“Pardon?” Obi-Wan replies, sternly, almost inaudible. But you hear him all right.

“I said, Fuck. You.” And you punctuate each and every syllable.

“Excuse me, Cody” Obi-Wan says, and closes the top on the holo-projection, although his stare has not left yours throughout this whole interaction. Your heart is thumping now, to the point you fear it may actually pop out of your chest and run down the hallways due to the stress. But you're not backing down. You’ve been in some of the most dangerous, stressful situations one can imagine, and you didn’t back down then, so there's no way in hell backing down now. But, before you have time to counter, Obi-Wan has grabbed you by the arm and is hauling you down the corridors of the Jedi temple. You protest but punching and pushing at his grip — but its unrelenting, and the two of you just scramble against each other until you are yet again at the door to his quarters. The door slides open and he yanks you in, and just as the door closes you let all of your unbridled rage rear its ugly head. You twist out of his grip and kick him into the wall, bridging a few feet gap between the both of you. He recovers and goes to grab you again but you stop him dead in his tracks.

A feeling you’ve never felt before, something foreign, but…intelligent, alive, and very, very powerful. It's coursing through your veins now and it’s almost blinding you, and the familiar buzz of static clouds your mind and brings dark spots to your vision, but you hold out, you’re not done yet. You throw a hand out in front of you, splaying your fingers and forcing your palm in his direction, channelling all your anger and hurt in his direction, pushing him back up against the wall. Obi-Wan gasps as he is shunted back, the air in his lungs knocked out from the sheer blunt shock of your reaction.

Next, you grip your hand into a tight fist, and slowly begin dragging it towards you. Obi-Wan begins to choke, not from strangulation, but instead from the agonising pain of the force within him being torn and ripped from his control. You hold him there, in this complete state of distress, teetering on the edge of both yours, and his own self-control.

“Don’t ever touch me like that again, do I make myself clear?” You growl, your voice wavering and flickering a harrowing tale of hurt and anger.

“Y—yes…” Obi-Wan breaths out, struggling against the lingering pressure on his chest.

“If you don’t like me, Obi-Wan, stop leading me on. It is cruel.” Snarling this time, your emotions twist into excruciating hurt, the power you harbour intensifying and magnifying the bleeding ache of rejection.

“It's not that I do—don’t like you…I—Jedi are not…attachment is forbidden” he chokes, and just like a switch, the rage dims and Obi-Wan drops to the floor, gasping for air. He clutches his chest, but the pain is not the lack of oxygen, but more so the sudden influx of the Force surging back into his body. Like pins and needles in a leg, or a cramp, the feeling that returns is not unwelcome, but it is painful to say the least, even if it be temporary.

And that's when you realise what exactly you’ve just done. The guilt is unparalleled. It doesn’t matter if it is forbidden or not, it's the fact that he said no, he pulled away, and that your initial reaction was to act like a spoilt child and throw a tantrum, a dangerous, uncontrollable tantrum. The rage from before has slowed its pace, and now the heavy, leaded guilt sinks you to the ground. You have never reacted like this before. You’ve always had a close relationship with anger, but you’ve never let it rule you; normally you would embrace it and use it to your advantage, only to let the emotion slip away when the time had passed. But for some inexplicable reason, the moment he rejected you, you saw red.

“I—I’m, sorry, Obi-Wan, I’m so—sorry, I don’t know what that is, I’m so so sorry, please—,” You mutter out, still stuck in place. You gaze down at your hands and flex your fingers. Never have you done anything like that. But that isn’t your main concern right now, Obi-Wan is. You did this, this was your fault, now fix it. “Please, let me help you, I—I didn’t—,”

“Darling, it's ok, just, please…manage your emotions. I feel I am partly to blame for this too, I—I must explain myself,” Obi-Wan assures as he pushes himself up off the ground, brushing down his garments as a nervous response to the tricky situation he now finds himself in. He looks up at you and immediately his heart sinks. Your eyes are red and puffy, cheeks stained with tears, and you’re visibly trembling. He knows he owes you an explanation for his behaviour at the very least, “Why don’t we go and sit down on the sofa and talk this out, hmm?” He says, bringing an arm out as he cautiously steps forward, ushering you over to the sofa. You both sit, except you take extra care to sit on the opposite side of the sofa, leaving as much space as you can between each-other. You don’t want to hurt him again, and now you don’t even trust yourself to keep a tap on your own emotions.

You tuck your hands underneath your ribs and wrap around yourself, curling in. You feel so small now, so weak and miserable, it’s embarrassing. This whole situation is a complete and utter fucking mess, you’re a mess, your life is a mess. But you’re broken out of your self wallowing by a gentle hand, a lifeline, courteous of the ever-generous Obi-Wan. He pulls the closest arm out from its grip around you and pulls, slowly encouraging you over towards him until eventually your head is resting on his lap and you’re laying out along the sofa. One of his hands sits along the upper part of your waist, where his thumb leaves small, comforting circles on your trembling ribs, whilst the other slowly soothes your hair in gentle, passive strokes.

Eventually, you’re calm enough to reason, and Obi-Wan breaks the silence.

“It is forbidden for Jedi to have attachment… attachment leads to feelings of anger and jealousy, and therefore to the Dark Side," Obi-Wan starts, but you cut him off.

"You don't have to explain yourself, it's ok, no means no and I'm sorry I read things wrong, and I apologise for my language, it was most rude of me to address you like that, especially whilst you were mid-conversation," you sniffle, trying your best to hide the cracks of nervousness in your words.

"Amy, it's...it's complicated. I accept your apology, although I am sure Commander Cody found it quite amusing--," but before he can comfort you, your heart drops. Oh shit.

"C--commander?" you mutter, hoping that you just heard Obi-Wan wrong and you didn't just swear in front of a senior ranking official.

"Yes, Commander," Obi-Wan reiterates.

Oh, Jesus Christ. You've really blown the boat out on this one, what a fucking idiot.

"I am so sorry, Obi-Wan, I--," you stop, not wanting to dig yourself into a hole you can't get out of. Maybe you should take Frankie's advice and just keep your mouth shut, "so much for a great first impression," you mutter out loud. You've completely blown it. The room falls silent now, and you slowly allow yourself to revel in the calming touch of Obi-Wan. You get it, he's just being nice, being the gentleman he has been born and raised to be -- but deep down you don't want things to be that simple; you want him to want you, you want these small actions and personal moments to have an ulterior motive; to be for you because he feels for you, not because it's the right thing to do, but because you want to feel worth something, to feel like a possession and not an object. You've been nothing but a number, a tool in the rigorous machine that is violent politics for over a decade now. You forbid yourself from luxuries like a social life or sentimental connections, but you're not home anymore, you're in a completely different Galaxy. But life is never fair you reason; because even though you're ready to start letting someone in, they are not even remotely interested in returning the gesture. It hurts, but when has life ever been anything but painful for you? Looking back on it, what has your life been? You spent all those years 'doing good' and serving others, only to never have others do good for you; what's the point in living life if it isn't even yours to enjoy?

Life is just a vicious cycle of hurt and regret, and now more than ever you wish you pulled your own trigger all that time ago.

Obi-Wan has been quiet for some time now, and, now you focus again on your physical body, you notice his hands have stilled, resting peacefully on your head and shoulder. You chance a look up to make sure he's ok, and you're glad you did because Obi-Wan's head was leaned over onto the side of the arm of the sofa, completely passed out from sleep. You couldn't help but smile at his peaceful form; a couple of unruly tendrils of golden strawberry blonde hair tickling his forehead, and the painful lines of stress melted away, giving in to the smooth, tranquil blanket of serenity. He truly was a masterpiece, and he didn't even know it. You knew this man didn't reciprocate his feelings to you, through either his own decision or that of the Jedi rulings, but it didn't mean you had to be cruel, so, you just relaxed, fully indulging in the company of one another in the seclusion of his apartment, away from prying eyes and judgement.

You could go through the hurt if it meant you could have more moments like this -- this was worth it. He was worth it.

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