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obaby-wan · 4 years

Text

Unlawful

Summary: Anakin is still a novice and Obi-Wan goes on solo missions. That is until the Council gives him a particular assignment, and he requests you to join him - posing as a couple. You had not seen much of your close friend since he lost his Master, and the mission serves as an interesting reunion.

Pairing: Obi-Wan Kenobi x Jedi!Reader

Wordcount: 9.5k I AM SORRY

Rating: T?

Warnings: Hurt? Slavery, child trafficking, mention of kidnapping. Someone inappropriately approaches Reader. Please let me know if forget something. But otherwise rather safe, basically soft fluff with a plot(ish).

Notes: I’ve done it! I’ve posted my first fic EVER, thanks to @maybege! This was her request for a fake marriage!Obi-Wan, which was a very scary and challenging and intimidating request given that it is the basis of her Play Pretend series, but I am overall quite proud of what I have produced. Naturally, any feedback is very much welcomed. Thank you!

Tags: @maybege @profkenobi maybe? If you have time and are interested and want to make a little me very happy but no pressure

You put down three cups and the teapot you had prepared, the smoky aroma steaming out from its mouth. Your life-long best friend Obi-Wan Kenobi and his padawan were seated across from you in your quarters, the young one still recovering from the training session he just finished with other younglings, his arms crossed and lips pouting. Obi-Wan has approached you earlier with a mission brief, suggesting - no, requesting, really - that you accompany him. Without his padawan. This earned you both a resentful silent treatment from him ever since said padawan has arrived and learned that he will not be needed. You, on the other hand, were internally as giddy and excited as Anakin was moody. You had only recently been knighted yourself. Your solo mission count was now steadily increasing, their success rate following the same trend. Yet, you still welcomed new assignments with the same eagerness you had in your early padawan days. Not to mention that this time, it seemed you will be partnering with your favourite Jedi master.

“Don’t look so frustrated, Anakin. Your first mission will come sooner than expected.” You smiled at the young boy, your words doing nothing to alleviate the frown between his brows. “Honey?”

He nodded in agreement, extending his hand to accept the cup you offered. You slide Obi-Wan his cup and put yours down in front of you, twirling the liquid around in an attempt to accelerate the cooling process. No honey for neither of you. Not with smoked teas. “Only fruited infusions deserve a bit of sweetness” He once told you. You had thought the words he spilled over your tea conversations were enough of a sweetener.

“Maybe I could come and pretend to be your son?” Anakin’s voice was small, hopeful. This pulled a laughter out of you and Obi-Wan, his smiling eyes meeting yours. The mission he was assigned involved infiltrating the court of a powerful king in the outer-rim, thought to be the general quarters of a slave trafficking ring. Young, underage slave traffic, to be specific, which explained why Obi-Wan would not let Anakin join. You wondered if he even told him about the nature of this mission. Your presence was requested to play to role of his spouse. The king was soon hosting his bi-yearly public exposition of newly acquired slaves, presenting them to potential buyers and you were to pose as a couple of such. It could have been a solo mission, but the king had a harem of wife whom the council suspected to be heavily involved in the court’s internal affair, and only women were allowed to interact with the spouses. That is why and where you were stepping in.

Obi-Wan shook his head, putting a hand on his padawan’s shoulder. “It is better you stay here, little one. Focus on your training. Besides, I believe you will be in possession of your lightsaber when we get back - and I expect you to be able to strike me down on our next spar”. They both smirked at the unspoken challenge.

“Is that true?” You took a zip of tea. “I was not aware you were already chosen to be in the next shuttle to Ilum. That is impressive”. The young boy’s chest puffed up with pride. “Master Yoda said it was learning too fast for the youngling group I am with!”

You glanced at Obi-Wan. Anakin building his own lightsaber meant he will have to take his training more into hands, relying less on common lessons with other young Jedi. Which also means that the time of his solo missions was short-lived and coming to an end soon. You were honored to be part of what could even be his last padawan-less assignment. Yes, this will definitely be an entertaining mission, a reminiscence of your mischiefs and adventures before you were both knighted.

You’ve know Obi-Wan for almost all your life, having arrived at the Jedi temple around the same moon as him. You were probably in the same crèche, although you did not have much recollection of that time. No, your friendship with him genuinely blossomed on the very same occasion that Anakin will soon face – the Kyber harvesting on Ilum. You were both selected for the same trip, the two youngest of your training group, and the two bests. A friendly competition ensued, which over time grew into a deeper complicity, unspoken rivalry trying to best each other’s records, pressed lips failing to suppress giggles when sneaking into the kitchen past bed time, understanding glances across training rooms when one would get caught and chastised, longing and warm reunions after your respective missions during your years as padawans and – support and understanding when he lost Qui-Gon, a dozen moons ago.

You had been the one to cut his braid off. You had taken the habit to keep your quarters unlocked for nights when meditation would no longer suffice to tone down the guilt and the grief he felt, preferring to spill his sadness to you over a cup of tea, burning his tongue on the beverage. You had watched as tears dripped into his cup, hoping the hot tea would burn away the sadness, too. He was grateful for your patience and comfort, always listening without a judgement. How he was unsure about being a master. How he did not feel ready to train Anakin. How he feared he would fail. “But fear is not the Jedi way”, he has whimpered in the dark, sitting on the floor in front of you, legs crossed, his forehead pressed to your knees as you sat on your bed. “No. But it is the human way” you had answered, your fingers slowly stroking his golden red locks in an attempt to sooth his ache.

You push those memories away. Obi-Wan has recovered, in his own way. He has slowly but surely gained confidence in his skills and his ability to pass them on, even warming up to referring to Anakin as his “little one” more often than as his padawan. The informality was not lost on you. The boy was clinging to his master like a young greysor to its mother, looking up to the man and telling him all details about his day in great lengths and details over dinner, every evening. Your eyes settled on your friend, realizing that it has been a while since you’ve got a chance to study his features with such proximity and you could not recall the last time you had been alone with him. You noticed how his traits have hardened since, how his hair, longer and now always neatly arranged, was now framing his mature face. He even started growing a beard, which you had not yet decided if you liked or not. His cerulean eyes met yours, and you couldn’t help but melt a little when you realized that those, at least, have remained as soft as you remembered. Anakin must be equally succeeding at painting more wrinkles and frowns to Obi-Wan’s traits as he has at keeping his heart tender.

“I am happy to hear that. I’m sure you will find your little trip to be insightful and… dangerous”. A spark returned to the boy’s eyes upon hearing your last word. He shuffled a little in his seat, his resentment about the mission suddenly forgotten and replaced with a curious fascination. You jumped on the occasion to ensure his mood remains lightened, a smug look on your face. “Have I told you about the time your master and I went to find our crystals, and Obi-Wan was afraid the dark?”

…………………………………………………………………………………………

Your destination coordinates where set into the navicomputer, the autopilot engaged. Everything was settled for the travel, and you both decided to indulge with an early dinner, hoping to be able to get a full night of sleep before landing at your destination. Obi-Wan headed for the ship’s kitchenette, opening the cooling storage and excitedly took out two packs of what appeared to be rye soup. “This is wonderful! I usually only get ration bars on these council ships”. He skipped back to you, face beaming, holding a box in each hand. He was met with your suspicious glare, lips tight together.

“Come on now darling, I only have to heat it up. There is no way I can mess this up”.

“Obi-Wan, I would trust you with my life, but allow me to doubt you on this one”.

You took the boxes from an exasperated Obi-Wan and headed back to the kitchenette, deciding that you will take cooking matters in your hands. Obi-Wan was… lousy, when it came to handling sustenance in any other way than putting it directly in his mouth (and even then). Burnt eyebrows and meals have been evidence of his previous attempts, and you may even have a scar somewhere on your arm, a relic of that time he believed the oven would be a safer cooking method. He had apologized profusely after managing to short circuit and set the whole thing on fire and had treated you with take-out from Dex’s every time you were meeting up for weeks after the incident. “If it still hurts, I can try to kiss the pain away.” He swore it was not just an imaginary balm for younglings, something about receptors and muscles and pain signals. You pretended the burn stung for days after you had removed the last bacta patch.

Once dinner was prepared and ready without having to call an intergalactic fire brigade, you both settled around the small and only table on the ship. Obi-Wan was practically lounging on the bench seat, and you were pleased that despite your high and respected status of Jedi Master, he would still feel comfortable relaxing casually around you. You set your bowls on the table and sat on the opposite bench.

“I have got to ask though Obi, why did you choose me for this mission? The council could have just assigned anyone else”.

You hoped the question did not come out as a complaint. You were more than happy – looking forward to, even – to start this mission with him. Although you knew that assignments from the Jedi council were usually of the utmost importance and highly serious, undercovers still help an aftertaste of game to you. And who better to disguise yourself with than your favourite partner?

“Well, given the delicate nature of our role, I would rather conduct this mission with someone I truly feel at ease with. Besides, I can’t imagine having to kiss Master Shaak Ti, if it came to that”. He laughed lightly at the image, raising a spoonful of soup to his lips – and burning the tip of his tongue on it. “I keep telling Anakin to be patient, but I daresay I cannot ever wait for my meals to cool down”.

You chuckled in response, hoping he did not notice the blood rushing to your cheeks. While you were glad he confessed to feeling serene in your presence, you had to admit you did not think of the implication of this disguise. You knew Obi-Wan well enough to be able to read him, and the Force could help you anticipate his actions. This would allow you to pass as long-term, close acquaintances, but how exactly were lovers behaving together, in public? How much affection must a crime lord couple display to pass as, well, a real, intimate crime lord couple? “We may need to go through quite a bit of details before we land. You know, setting our story straight and such”. He nodded, now passively stirring his bowl, his eyes fixing you intently. You averted his gaze and dipped your spoon in the rich soup, catching yourself realizing that you wouldn’t mind so much if the mission was to “come to that”. You made a mental note to strengthen your walls and empty your mind before landing.

“You must know, I am glad you accepted to join me. I haven’t got the chance to enjoy your company since you were knighted. You’ve made yourself busier than an old senator.”

You refuted his words, retorted that he was the constantly unreachable shadow, wandering between planetary systems and moody pre-teens. How often you went and knock on his door any time you were on leave only to be met with a locked door silently mocking you. He said that more often than not, he would meet the same fate (it’s true) and would try to fill his absence with little souvenirs he brought you back from his various destinations (it’s also true), leaving them under your doormat. You chastised him about it, complaining about that time he deemed wise to leave a bar of sweet-smelling treat in that specific spot, knowing damn well that colder days were approaching and the Temple had a floor heating system. By the time you had come back to your quarters, the bar was but molten goo and host to flowery mycelium. You complained about the mess it was to scrub and intentionally omitted to mention the blue box you kept under your bed, home to pressed flowers, amulets and other trinkets he has gotten you – you’ve kept every single one of them (expect the bar, which found its way straight to the waste bag).

Bowls were emptied, cleaned and stored away (Obi-Wan insisted on doing the dishes), and you both returned your focus to preparing the mission. Two travel bags and a satchel were waiting in your shared sleeping quarters. Digging through your belongings, you felt slightly anxious at the lack of neutral-coloured clothing and were met only with luxurious, expensive looking fabric with colours that would fit into any rainbow. You took out and set aside a long emerald dress and the heavy brown cloak, deeming them to be a believable travel attire to change into before landing.

Obi-Wan dug out datapads and a sealed, square box from the satchel. He gave you your datapad, which you supposed contained more details about the mission, and eyed the box curiously, turning it between his fingers, examining the object to find its opening mechanism. Finally, twisting the top part from the bottom of the box revealed its content; two rings and two identical pins.

“Ah, right. Married and crime lords” he stated matter-of-factly. He passed you one of the pins; it was golden and represented a wild bird, wings spread and embedded with precious gem stone. You supposed it represented the sigil of your imaginary crime syndicate, operating from the deep underworld of Coruscant, coordinating heavy weaponry and oil trafficking. Your cheeks blushed a little when you realized the rings where, in fact, wedding bands, and Obi-Wan has already slipped his on his finger, holding yours between his thumb and index. His other hand was extended “May I, milady?”

Your head jerked up to meet his cerulean eyes, a playful glint in their corners. You put the tip of your fingers in his calloused member. “I hope you have asked for my parents’ permission before so bluntly asking for my hand, sir.” He winked, running his hand through his hair to push back the growing locks. “I am afraid we are eloping, love.” Sliding the band onto your ring finger, the cold metal feeling foreign there, he added: “My dear wife.”

Somehow, your heart jostled a bit upon hearing his words and you smiled shyly. “Husband.”

Obi-Wan decided to meditate for a few moments before arrival. You offered he use the sleeping quarters for peace, as you wanted to go over the mission’s detail one last time in the cockpit. You must have dozed off reading about inter-rim smuggling routes because when you woke up, you were still curled in the pilot’s seat, a blanket you later recognized as Obi-Wan cloak draped over you.

…………………………………………………………………………………………

The outer-rim planet hosting your mission’s location was filled with luscious flora and where no greeneries grew, cities spread outwards rather than upwards, reminding you of a deceptive replica of Naboo. You landed in the royal spaceport, along with other foreign ships surely belonging to other “buyers” invited to the king’s exposition. Immediately upon setting foot on land, Obi-Wan’s hand found its way to the small of your back, then around, finally settling on your hip. So it begins, you thought. He met your eyes with a reassuring smile, giving you the confidence you needed to kick start your brain into immersing yourself in this new persona. You awkwardly leaned into his touch as the palace��s servant gathered your belonging, leading you to meet the group of newly arrived guest to the main palace, on the city’s rim, where you were all dispatched to your assigned quarters.

“His Majesty and his court expect all guests for a welcome dinner after sunset. He will be opening the exposition.” You were told when the servant opened the door to your room before handing Obi-Wan the keys.

The room, as could be expected in such milieu, was large, but decorations remained modest. Obi-Wan was already checking every corners of the room for anything suspicious when you were still taking in the beauty of the quarters. A thick deep orange carpet covered the dark wooden floor. A large mirror adorned a wall, reaching all the way up to the ceiling, reflecting the more-than-two-person canopy bed and its white veiled curtains. In a corner, a dining table and four chairs, in the other, a curved loveseat with white pillows. Another long plush couch was pushed again the wall under the window, next to the mirror, which offered an exclusive view on the forest surrounding the palace.

“Don’t even think of offering to sleep on it. I will not put up with you complaining about a sore back every morning”

“Actually, since I am quite larger than you, I thought I might be taking the bed – and you get this marvelous couch.”

You threw a pillow at him, and missed. “I do hope your fighting skills are better than your throws!” He set his bag down on the bed, claiming his side, his hand again in his hair, and your stomach sank a little at the realization that yes - you will really be sharing a bed, and it sank a little more when you couldn’t understand why it made you feel warm and shivering at the same time.

“If you steal the duvet, I will put my cold feet on you. Consider yourself warned, Kenobi.”

“Don’t worry darling, your body temperature is safe with me. Now let’s go for a walk, assess the surroundings. We have a few hours before the sunset.”

And then the sun set, and you had to get ready for dinner. You excused yourself to the fresher first, taking your bag, Fumbling again through the coloured fabrics with the same anxiety, you pulled out what you deemed to be the least ostentatious outfit offered – a loose satin grey dress, with straps so thin you were afraid they would snap at the first sudden arm movement, but at least it was long enough to cover the rest of your body. You put it on and stood awkwardly in front of the mirror, your eyes failing to recognize the reflection starring back. You did not like it – you were too uncovered, to bare, to exposed. This was unlike anything you ever wear daily, and the smooth fabric sliding on your skin felt too foreign for you to be comfortable. Turning around, you grimaced at how low the back was, now confronted with a literally visible underwear problem and decided against wearing one, cursing at the impracticality of formal attires. At least the cleavage offered more coverage. You keep most your hair down, still overly conscious about your bare shoulders, only twisting the strands that would frame your face behind your ears and securing them with crystal-decorated pins. And then you stepped out of the fresher.

And then Obi-Wan thought he died a sudden death and an angel has come to reap him. His mind wandered back to stories Anakin always rambled about beautiful being inhabiting the deepest corners of the galaxy and how they just seem to float in an aura than made them glow and he thought – this is it. This is his end, and you were his angel. And then only this last par was true, because angels aren’t reals but you were both real and ethereal and this was everything but his end, if anything it was the beginning of something he wasn’t quite understanding yet. He’s seen you before, but how has he never noticed you? You, the strong warrior he was practically raised with, now glowing in your silver gown, hiding glittering stars in your locks? If angels resided in the deepest corners of the galaxy, then he’s now found you a home in the deepest corners of his mind, and he knew he won’t be chasing you from there anytime soon – if ever.

You swore you saw Obi-Wan… blush? But before you could give it any second thought, his hand was holding yours and his lips were delicately pressed to your fingers and his bright irises searching for your eyes. Now it was your turn to blush. His other hand then scrabbled for something in his pocket, reaching for the golden pin with the wild bird and he once again whispered “may I?” before clipping in to the your dress, where the thin strap met the bodice.

“Is this all too much? It feels very inappropriate on me.”

“It’s beautiful.”

You wished he had said “you” instead of “it” but you gave him a smile and took his arm as you heard a knock on the door - the messenger servant sent to lead you to the dinner hall. You slip him your lightsaber, easier to hide under is loose clothes than your elegant dress. He opted for brown trousers and a deep purple linen shirt that he did not button all the way up. You silently admired your partner’s ability to just fit in anywhere, his posture straighter and more confident than usual (if it was at all possible), and his hold on you firm as he lead you sternly behind the servant. The jedi he is was well hidden under this new demeanor, and you did your best to mirror his expression, worried that you’d make your couple look underwhelming.

“Darling, I believe we have not talked about boundaries yet. The veracity of our act inevitably requires displays of affection, which I trust we both understand. But you must let me know if I ever overstep, as I may not keep my hands off you tonight.”

You nodded in agreement, very aware of the fact that he basically said he will be touching you – quite a lot. You were led through sun colored corridors, large windows illuminating your surroundings with the last rays of the dying day. Your arm still around Obi-Wan’s, you followed the servant out of the residential building, crossed a lush court surrounded by gardens and fountains and flowers smelling of power and credits into the main building. On your previous reconnaissance walk, you had noticed the exotic architecture, vaulted arches and high ceilings, pillars forming straight lines occasionally broken by mural ornaments. Everything was open, spacious and bright, but like your room, the decorations remained simple yet refined. Mouldings ornated each corner of the ceiling and the floor was a mosaic of orange-toned tiles. You passed by an atrium, open to the sky and home to yet another fountain. High class for an outer-rim world.

The dining hall followed the consistent décor of the palace. High ceilings and their mouldings and oh, – the whole ceiling itself was one big mirror. Three large tables were set, arranged in an open square formation. The atmosphere was already lively, and you were surprised at the number of people assisting to his exposition. No matter how hard the Republic claimed to fight against slavery, it remained a very much widespread practice in which too many lords seem to indulge. Another the thing that hit you – the women. You immediately noticed the contrast between the guests and the locals. The former wore similar attire as you, expensive evening gowns cut in noble materials (you winced internally as you realized that your outfit was indeed underwhelming in comparison), and the latter were covered head to toe in colourful fabric, long dresses trailing behind them, hair hidden under an assorted scarf. The different shape of their silhouettes betraying their diverse origins. They sat aligned at the table in the middle, two empty spots at its center, talking only to each other. The harem.

No other chairs were arranged, it will not be a seated dinner for the guests. You both approached the table on the left and when all guests have arrived and settled around the dinning arrangement, an old Zygerrian announced the king and his First Wife. Enter a tall, slim man wearing a long navy robe and a small, round, severe looking women. She was wearing a similar attire has the other wives, but the colour matched that of the king. He started his speech, something about lineage-long tradition of exploring and harvesting innocent youth across the galaxy to serve the best of the men and women. How he has mastered the art of finding only the best, most beautiful and promising beings and how excited he was to show them, how he will have them “parade” with his wives as dinner progresses, so each guests can get acquainted and take the time to choose their preferred match. Sales would be finalized at the end of the week and you wondered how choosing a slave could take so many rotations. You finally decided to pay a little less attention to the words and a little bit more to the people, your eyes scanning through the crowd for any interesting face, carefully probing them with the Force. You felt a little sick at the dangerous energy that emanated from the group. Malice. Greed. A little bit of fear?

You reluctantly left Obi-Wan to get you both drinks once the king finished his oration, glass raised and inviting the festivities to start. The reality of this mission sank in when hooded figures, too small to fit in, too young to be here, were brought in to the wives. All except the First Wife were assigned a figure and you noticed how each pair seemed to be of the same species. Guests immediately found their way to the drinks and sustenance before approaching the colourful covered pair closest to them. The man would always examine the subject as the women immediately started talking to the wife, and you understood your purpose in the mission. You could not shake away the nausea slowly building up in your stomach as you strayed through the crowd, eavesdropping on bribes of conversation, glancing each time a buyer your lift the hood off a little figure, revealing little boys and girls, face too round, eyes too wide, soul too pure to be put in this situation. Trying not to overthink their origin and breathing your distress out, you were making your way back to your fellow Jedi, two ruby wine glasses in your hand when:

“I am surprised someone in your youth would already be looking for another toy. Aren’t they too young for you?”

You turned around and were met with a handsome man, visibly an unaccompanied guest. You did not fully understand the meaning of his words, but you observed he was roughly your age.

“I am not quite sure what you mean sir, but I suppose I could address the same question back to you?”

“A man never has too many toys”.

The way he said it, his tone, sent a shiver down your spine and you crossed your arm to hide the goose bumps you could feel rising your hairs there. He flashed you a smile, all teeth and undeniably, dangerously charming, and you smiled back curtly, every fiber of your being screaming at you to turn around and cut the conversation short. You were starting to get an idea of what was really going on at this auction and you did not like it one bit.

“However do you mean by that?”

He stepped closer to you, taking one of the wine glasses from your hand, shamelessly taking a long sip of it. You straighten your posture, refusing to break his stare with a blink. Against your better judgement you readjusted a stand of hair behind your ear, bringing your own glass to your lips.

“Look around, my dear. We are about two decades younger than most buyers here, surely we must be seeking different things from them.”

“And what is it that you seek?”

Another sip of wine. His eyes bore into yours.

“Pretty things.”

And before you could answer, Obi-Wan has found you, his hand back to its place again on the small of your back. He was followed by by a pair of Togrutas, a veiled wife wearing light blue garments, her hand on the shoulder of a little Togruta girl, dressed in similar colours, eyes fixed on the floor.

“There you are my love. I need you to officiate my study of this young girl.” Then, turning to the lad beside you, “I don’t believe we’ve met?”

You all introduced yourself, and Obi-Wan stiffened when Perry, from Cantonica, bowed and managed to brush his lips against your knuckles, holding your hand a second too long to his liking. He reinforced his grip on you. You were already too close to him when he spotted you, and he did not miss the way Perry’s eyes crudely wandered over your figure. He nudged you towards the waiting Togruta pair, and you began asking questions you believed slavers would ask – her age, her health, strengths and weaknesses. The wife answered patiently answered, her eyes never leaving your face and her hand never leaving the girl. From the corner of your eyes, you saw Obi-Wan kneeling down in front of the girl and his hand moved to examine her limbs and montrals. To an outsider, he would seem like a natural, but you saw has his touch was firm but gentle, and how he seemed to softly ask permission to the little girl before moving to another body part. Obi-Wan’s heart broke a little when she only nodded in agreement, her lifeless eyes never leaving the floor. Perry was still observing you in silence, his eyes curiously darting between Obi-Wan and you. Finally, he released the little girl and you thanked her matrona.

“I see you are unaccompanied. Given the situation, I will be happy to lead an interaction in your name.”

“I will be happy to just join you in your meetings, if you’ll allow me.”

You seeked Obi-Wan’s eyes for approval and he nodded. The evening continued like this for a while, the three of you alternating between the buffet and meeting other younglings, some more talkative than others, and you mediating the interactions, repeating the question the men were asking directly to the matrona, who would only answer to you. Perry seemed to take a particular interest in two of the older ones (you tried not to gag), and Obi-Wan chose a little Twi’lek as fake target. You noted that the little boy reminded you of Anakin. Some of the kids surely originated from the core planets, noticing a Pantoran, and you wondered how the king managed to have such a broad diversity. Not that you’d know much about slave trade, but you were still surprised. By the time the event drew to its end, both your mind and body were exhausted, and when Perry tried to drag Obi-Wan into a private game of Sabacc in the king’s quarters, you nudged him to go (for more information, you whispered softly). Perry noticed how you hastly took your leave, excusing yourself for the evening.

“Do you not kiss your wife goodnight, Kenobi?”

Obi-Wan’s eyes met yours, unsure what to do, trying to fight the urge to just slam his lips against yours and giving in to the temptation to explore your skin, drawing constellations along the trail of his mouth on your neck, but not daring to without consulting you.

“Only in the privacy of our room.”

He still pulled you close on last time and his lips brushed your temple, inhaling your sweet scent. You tried to ignore your disappointment. He didn’t want to let you go alone, and there was no way he could discretely slip your lightsaber back to you. But you were a resourceful women and he trusted you to make it back to the room without incident. As you left the main building, you spotted a group of the wives discussing around the fountain, seemingly more relaxed and joyful than they were in the dining hall. Their conversation died and a stern look settled on their faces as you approached, asking if you could join them. With a little use of the force to sooth any distrust, you managed to ease into their discussions, hoping that the wine that flowed this evening would loosen tongues and appease suspicions.

…………………………………………………………………………………………

Your mind was wandering on the sharp edge between awake and asleep when Obi-Wan came back to your room, tiptoeing his way across the entrance. You had let his bedside lamp dimly lit for him, and you observed quietly as he removed his shirt, his bare chest and their red hair and taut muscle on full display for you. Has he noticed you were awake? You felt guilty for prying, like you were witnessing something deliciously illicit, but the way his skin seemed to gleam under the dim warm light, shadows only enhancing his features, how he look strong yet tired and vulnerable had something too mesmerizing for you to tear your eyes away.

Of course he had noticed you weren’t sleeping, but he wasn’t going to let you feel embarrassed for starring. Besides, he couldn’t resist putting on a little show, one last treat to end this tedious day before slumping next to you. But as he was pulling his shirt above his head, he suddenly felt self-conscious about his nakedness, and decided to quietly disappear into the fresher. You were right, joining the Sabacc tournament gained him access to exclusive information, some he could easily pull out from drunken lords, gladly taking hints he was dropping to steer the conversation the way he wanted to. He had so much to discuss with you, but for now he had to focus on getting the smell of spirit off his scent and getting himself into bed with you. That last part was making him more anxious than having to face a tantrum-throwing Anakin, and despite the late hour, he opted for a quick shower.

Clean and absolutely worn out, he silently slid under the duvet next to you, careful not to wake you up. You were really sleeping now, your back facing the edge of the bed, your breathing soft and steady. He took one last look at you before turning the light off, how your lips were slightly parted and pouty, and your chest rising and falling in a peaceful rhythm. How your hair framed your beautiful face, and he chastised himself once more for not looking at you earlier, for taking so many years to realize what he had just here, right in front of him, and how he didn’t know what to do with it. It – the fuzzy feeling in his stomach that did not seem to settle since you landed but only to grow in intensity as he could not peel his eyes off you the whole evening. And when he fully put his weight down on the mattress, you shifted a little bit closer to him, your warm radiating under the blanket and he thought he might suffocate when he noticed how small the straps of your nightdress where, and he couldn’t help but wonder how soft you must feel if he were to hold you, but then your leg brushed his and he scooted just a millimeter more against you.

“Good night, little one.”

…………………………………………………………………………………………

It was in a silent mutual agreement that you both ignored the fact that when you woke up this morning, your legs were tangled together, his arm somehow found their way across your middle, your head resting in the crook of his neck, and he stole an innocent kiss from on your forehead when you were still weary. It was in a silent understanding that when you got dressed and went down for breakfast, the hands you held with each other was nothing but another façade, another prop to the act you play. At least, that’s what you both tried to convince yourselves with. That was why the overall you chose this morning was a little bolder, red, mind you, and the cut twice as deep, this time both in the back and the front. The visible underwear problem remained and at this point you gave up on wearing any. The bodice hugged your curves in all the right places (he tried very hard not to stare), the wide bottom pants flowing around your legs despite the thicker material. On the practical side, it had pockets, and the looseness of the pants allowed you to strap your lightsaber to your inner thigh. That was also why, like yesterday, Obi-Wan secured the pin to your strap, his fingers lingering a moment longer on your collarbone, a subtle caress to the skin above your breast.

“It’s the wives” you say later, your voice low, briefing him on your findings from the previous night while munching on some local fruit. “Did you notice how they are all from different worlds?”

“The king steals them from their home. People he deals in business with, or poorer, farther-rim systems. He offers protection to whoever is the sovereign there. In return, they have to give up their first daughter as wife, or son as slave – I don’t know what is worse. And they have to send two child here each year, a boy and a girl, elected by their people as the most beautiful.”

“I can’t believe such an elite slave trade exists with such young ones. The younglings are to be auctioned. It starts tonight. You can already place your bid with the respective matrona. Most buyers are from the core planets too.”

“They must hold a record somewhere.”

“The First Wife. She coordinates everything. She should have an office. And Obi-Wan, we might want to sneak a matrona back to Coruscant as witness – not all of them want to be here nor agree with this. Stars, Anakin would hate this place.”

He nodded approvingly, his look shutting you up as Perry appeared in your line of sight with the First Wife. She greeted the both of you, saying she insisted on meeting each customer personally, asking about if you’ve already spotted any preferred candidate, and what kind of leverage you were interested to offer up as deposit to secure a higher chance of acquiring them. You kept your answers short, ignoring Perry’s eyes on you, mentioning the young twi’lek, and a shipment of unrefined oil and spice, lying perfectly when needed and sticking to the cover story the Council had prepared. But then:

“I couldn’t help but overhear – who his this dear Anakin?”

You felt Obi-Wan tight tense up under where your hand was. You sent him a reassuring nudge through the force, putting on your most tender smile and said:

“Our son, your Majesty. He is ten.”

“Ah, then you might be interested in our little Saya. She’s a bit younger, human, but it’s good to have them match a younger age. Makes them more malleable, you know? I will have her matrona and her meet you tonight.”

You thanked her politely, saying you will need to discuss the matter with your husband first but appreciate the gesture. She updated you both on the activities the king has had organized for the guests; a visit of the baths for the females, a hunting game for the males, and left, moving on to the next table. Obi-Wan was admiring your quick wit, growling after Perry’s insistent gaze on you, at the fact you will again be separated, and you were still processing the interaction.

“Brides,” you whispered in horror. “They’re selling the girls as child bride, Obi-Wan.”

His hand squeezed yours in understanding, and you both decided to head back to your room to discuss your next plan of action – getting evidence. Tonight.

…………………………………………………………………………………………

When you got back to your room after hours dipping in various bath waters, Obi-Wan had scrambled a note that they had come back early from the hunt and already had to join the dinner party. You took yet another shower today – who could have thought so many different baths existed? Mud, sea salt, ocean salt, dead salt (whatever that was). This night, you opted for a an exquisite chiffon blue dress (his favourite colour), again with an open back (you both secretly enjoyed when his fingers absentmindedly caressed your skin there) with a slit high on your leg (but not high enough to reveal your saber) and your hair tied in a high bun (maybe his fingers will wander to your neck too) and when you left your room that evening feeling like a million credit, you arrived at the window where we was waiting for you in the hall just in time to catch the sunset.

“It’s beautiful.” You said as you reached his side.

And despite the horrific truth behind the mission, and the exhausting day he just had putting up with the other crime lords talking about the slaves like lifeless objects, he thought you must have been bathing in the very same sunset because when he replied with “yes, beautiful” it was you and not the window he was looking at. His knuckles again found their home on the skin on your back (you screamed a little inside) and you could feel his chest pressed into your side, his warmth welcomed on your bare flesh. And then his breath against the back of your ear, the ghost of his lips barely brushing against your pulse.

“I like it.”

“What?”

“Your beard. I wasn’t sure before, but I’ve decided I like it.”

“Oh. Anything else you’ve decided to like about my body in my absence? Perhaps I could give you a tour?”

“Obi-Wan,” you gasped, amused. “Are you flirting with me?”

A light chuckle escaped his lips before they found their way to the soft skin behind your ear again. “Perhaps.” His voice was sweet, teasing. “What kind of husband would I be if I did not woo my beloved wife every now and then?” His lips dipped lower to the crook of your neck and pressed a chaste kiss there, his stubble deliciously burning your skin. You turned around, hiding your shiver. His impossibly deep cerulean eyes were smiling at you, and you swore you saw them trail down your cleavage first and you rolled your eyes at him behind your lashes. His cheeks were flushed, a smug smile spread across his face. You really wanted to feel those lips on your too, now. Thinking of something to do to break this tension that surely you weren’t the only one feeling, your hands went to readjust the collar of his tunic.

“While I do highly enjoy this, I need you focused, Kenobi.”

“Given how little I can do without your presence with the wives, and the drinks I was peer pressured into drinking, I might let you take the lead tonight.”

You made a point to tease him about it the whole evening when guests were called, and like last night, the matronas were already aligned with their protégés. Unlike last night, the atmosphere was tense, and you could already see quarrels rising when two buyers started bidding wars for a same subject. You refused the drinks the servants were offering (one of us has to stay sober, you said with a wink) and led Obi-Wan to the little twi’lek from yesterday. Speeches were made, more bid placed, food served, live music played and peoples have started dancing when Obi-Wan excused himself to the fresher (your skin burned where his had was resting this whole time). Perry approached you.

“Will the lovely lady grant me this dance?”

With no valid reason to excuse yourself, you had to accept. Immediately, his hand was too low on your back and his grip on your hand too tight, his breath smelling heavily of spirit. “Your husband is very protective of you”. You did not like the way he whispered into your ear; too close, too wet. “Would not agree to share you – and I’ve never heard prices go this high.” You tried to pull away a little, but he only pulled you closer, his hand now even lower. “Did he tell you I killed the largest game today, hm? I shall deserve a prize for this, don’t you think, pretty thing?”

You were about to get back to him, ready use some force to get out of his grip if you must.

“That’s enough.”

Obi-Wan was back between the two of you, jaw clenched and eyes dark, his voice deep and threatening. You took advantage of this distraction to untangle yourself from your unwanted dance partner, who gave you both a polite nod, an irritating smirk never leaving his face before leaving.

“Are you alright little one?” His hands were cupping your face, thumbs tracing circles on your cheeks. You closed your eyes, leaning into his touch.

“Drunken men and their wandering hands aren’t enough to upset me, Obi-Wan.”

“My brave girl.”

He pressed his lips to your forehead, pulling you closer to him. Your heart skipped a beat at the praise.

“What’s the trouble?”

“These men –“ he looked around, “tried to bid to have you, all day. Perry was the most insistent.”

“And?”

“No one will lay a hand on your as long you are mi- you are with me”.

He wanted to say mine. “You are mine”. Because you were, and you knew it, but he would not dare to call you as such yet. You said nothing and placed one hand on his shoulder, taking his hand in the other. He picked up on your unspoken requests, balancing his weight on his legs, and soon your head was resting on his chest as he tried to clumsily lead you to the rhythm of the music, trying to follow a melody neither of you knew. He may have stepped on your feet once or twice, but you didn’t mind. You looked up to his face and his gaze was already on yours, and your hand went from his shoulder to the back of his head, pushing it down to your neck because you couldn’t stand him looking at you like that without your stomach doings somersaults.

You looked up to the ceiling, the large mirror reflecting the dining hall, a whirlwind of people and tints and tones tangled together, mixed into an incoherent splatter of colours that made you dizzy. You tried to spot your own reflection, wondering what you’d look like in his arms, but you couldn’t make out a single face in the mist of the dancing crowd.

What you did spot, however, was the First Wife, her bright golden reflection standing out from the crowd, slightly apart. And then it clicked, and you were back in the present moment. The mission. The girls. The records. You whispered in his ear, your voice tinted with urgency.

“She spies on people. The mirror. We can’t wait until the end like we planned. We must slip away while the room is still full, it will make it harder to spot us.”

He agreed silently, and with a few more steps and twists and turns, gradually led you through the mass of dancers, towards to back door, and when you were far enough, you waited for that beat, that moment to sneak out of the dining hall in silence. Obi-Wan produced a computer system key from his pocket and lead you through corridors and stairs. “I spied on her when we got back earlier. Her quarters are above the halls,” he explained. And that where you went. You hoped his inebriety has lowered and kept your senses in alert as you arrived in a pink clay corridor, in front of a large wooden door. You trusted Obi-Wan that this was the right place, and when you found the control panel, he gave you the system key. You were fast enough, and with a little bit of guidance from the Force, managed to unlock the door.

“Be quick,” you whispered, and he slipped into the office, leaving you to guard the passage.

And he was quick, reappearing with a triumphant smile, slipping what appeared to be a holochip under his tunic. You proceeded to attempt to close the door, only for it to get stuck half way. To make matter worse, you could hear footsteps coming down the corridor, approaching at a steady pace. Calling on the Force to keep you grounded, you focused on the key turning in the panel, aware of all the notches position it went through. Then the door closed and locked, just as the footsteps were reaching you, a flash of golden yellow hinting something bad, and before you could think, you grabbed Obi-Wan’s hand and pulled him to you, pressing your back to the wall, your dress covering the still open control panel.

“What are you doing?”

“Covering us.”

You put your arms around his neck and pulled him for a kiss. He didn’t react at first, slightly dumbfounded and taken aback, but once he caught up to your thinking he snaked his arms around your waist and pressed himself further against you. His lips responded to your, engaging them in a silent conversation that only grew more heated at you heard the footstep stop. Your heart must have also stopped too, and you weren’t breathing anymore, too aware of the pair of eyes on the two of you, too excited by the tongue that was now requesting entrance to your mouth, and you granted. Conversations turned into a dance, tongues trying to dominate the other, teeth grazing and nipping at lips. You closed your eyes, this was all too much. And then he moved down to your neck, his tongue laving at the skin there, tracing kisses into a pattern down to your shoulder. You felt his hand reach behind you, down your leg, his body following his movement and his lips now nipping at the side of your arm. A slight tug on your dress, and he was reaching back up, his hand now dipping beneath the slip of your dress, pulling your leg to hook it around hip. His fingers kneaded the skin on your inner tight, and you gasped at his audacity, but when you felt something cold pressed again your skin, you realized he had removed the computer system key and secured it to your strap, next to your lightsaber.

You heard the footsteps again, their echo a diminuendo as they departed. And Obi-Wan heard it to, but he did nothing to pull away, and you did nothing either. Instead, his ministrations toned down, growing softer, turning into tender nipping at your jaw, timid kisses on each corners of your lips. You slowly withdrew your leg from his side and he sighed at the absence of contact. You kept your eyes shut, knowing that if you were to open them, the blue gaze that would meet you will be your end. So you waited until he relaxed his grip on your waste, his teeth grazing your skin one last time, and there was nothing left of the two jedi on a mission but panting bodies and hungry stares and cheeks flushed with blood and intertwined fingers. Then a scary thought crossed your mind – this meant nothing, this was just a cover, and you turned your face away, gently pushing him back. He released you, trying to regain his composure. You kicked the door of the control panel closed, and when you looked back at him, nothing on his face betrayed the events that just transpired – not even wet lips. He was all serious eyes and stern face, and you both agreed to head back to your quarters to contact the Council immediately.

…………………………………………………………………………………………

The holo-records Obi-Wan stole were sent via a secure pulse transmission to the council, which revealed that numerous high placed personalities from Republic planets were involved in this slave ring. The Senate thus took the matter in their hands, deciding to send their law reinforcement for arrests before the sales would be concluded at the end of the week. Obi-Wan and you were to leave the premises before things got dirtier, and a few standard hours later, you were both back in your Jedi robes, all lavish make-up and attire stored away in their original travel bag, like a circus would fold up its tent after a show. You stayed silent as Obi-Wan typed in the coordinated back to Coruscant, drawing your legs up to your chin in the co-pilot’s chair.

You turned the wedding band around your finger, the last piece of your costume you had not gotten yourself to remove yet, thoughts wandering around the symbolism and the implications that came with such a small piece of metal. Obi-Wan sensed your inner turmoil and, the autopilot engaged, turned his chair to face you, taking your hands in his.

“What is it, love?”

“The band. It is strange to think that two people fall in love, and the whole foundation of their trust, their intimacy, everything they share is held like a promise on one finger, and taking this away means taking everything away.”

“Very much like us, our lightsabers and the Order. It is but another token to a lifetime commitment.”

“We commit to a code, to a place, a lifestyle and the Force. But do we ever really commit to anyone? I feel like a fraud wearing it.”

He gave you a strange look, and you hoped he understood that you were not questioning your allegiance to the Order. Just where my heart belongs, you thought. He stayed silent, his fingers playing with said band, turning it around your finger. You couldn’t tell where this was coming from, thinking that your emotional ramble was no longer valid now that the mission was over and he would not understand why you suddenly felt so empty – because it means going back to being Jedi, and not unlawfully wed husband and wife. But then he pressed both your hands to his forehead, bending in front of you like he did that time he was crying over his fears in your room.

“Please don’t ever think what happened on that planet was meaningless. There is no one else in the galaxy with whom I would have wanted to indulge in this experience but you, and I would like to do it for as long as you’ll have me. If you’ll have me.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and your thoughts had not caught up with your words when you blurted out:

“I want you Obi-Wan. Always.”

You pulled him up to you. His lips met yours again, and this time you knew it was real. It was soft at first, as if he never kissed you before, lips exploring lips and when he familiarized himself with the map of your curves and corners, his teeth nipped at your bottom lip, his tongue seeking yours. You opened your mouth to him, and he pulled you up, pressing your body into his and you melted a little as you became one with him. His arms wrapped you in a tight embrace and your hands found their way around his neck, in his hair, tugging the lock affectionately. He hummed in content, you sighed in relief.

You knew this could – would – mean long discussions about your values, the conflicting dichotomy between listening to your feelings but not indulging in them, that it would mean more secrets, stolen glances and forbidden touches, another perception of the time and space between you and him, parsecs and moons away from each other during missions. You smiled against his lips as you thought about how things always come in pairs; light and dark, moons and suns, seas and skies, days and night, and how maybe, you and him could be the two counterparts of your own binary system.

#obi-wan x reader #obi-wan kenobi #jedi!reader #star wars #first fic #yay #!!!#I am scared #swann #baby swann writes

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ramblingguy54 · 4 years

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Escape From The Impossibin!: An Exercise Of Trust & Hope.

So, I was predicting for this episode to have Della & Louie bonding time together, which there were cool moments with them to be sure. However, what I really liked about today’s story was how it focused on the aftermath of FOWL’s reveal to still be very much alive to Scrooge’s horror and Beakly’s greatly underlying concern. A couple of days ago before Impossibin premiered today, I chatted with some others on Discord about what this episode’s story would explore for its overall message, which the more I thought about, the more I leaned on the idea it would be centered around the notion of trust. Let’s Get Dangerous had a consistent theme of deceitful liars being revealed who weren’t whom they appeared to be, as seen with Taurus Bulba vs Drake Mallard & Bradford’s true nature being known to Scrooge at that hour special’s ending.

Escape From The Impossibin is all about confronting the growing tension that’s become a threat to a content family lineage of adventurers, who now have to defend everything they stand for in their legacy, once again. That’s something I’ve always appreciated about DuckTales is even when it doesn’t entirely match my predictions, it finds other new ways to surprise me for what it can do. Della & Louie didn’t necessarily get the bonding time I had hoped for, which did admittedly disappoint me, but they did a serve a purpose in their own right that I’ll get to later. Anyways, the spotlight is on the older mentor figures, Scrooge McDuck and Bentina Beakly, who are all too familiar in dealing with FOWL’s antagonism before in Season 1′s episode, The Confidential Case Files Of Agent 22, that especially applies to Beakly’s past in fighting them as an agent of SHUSH for very much longer compared to Scrooge. With how much is at stake you’d very much expect there to be old feelings being drudged up, regarding Scrooge’s trust and respect for Bradford, as well as Beakly’s strict over protective nature with Webby to keep her safe from losing that optimism that makes her stand out as a beacon of hope to inspire others, which they do. FOWL isn’t like Magica or Lunaris who want to make themselves known flat out to the world with their egos. They’re very cunning and cold blooded with going about executing their plans for control of the Earth. Particularly, Bradford is the serious threat most of all because he’s the brains of this outfit giving precision in each order to those under his command. Combine Bradford’s knowledge with the muscle of Steelbeak, Rockerduck’s underhanded scheming, Gandra Dee’s scientific intellect, Black Heron’s lust for more power, and Phantom Blot’s ability to absorb all kinds of magic that gives the McDucks’ a severe scenario they’ve never faced. FOWL is the right combination to put an end to Scrooge’s adventuring because Bradford has kept a close eye on him for so many years. Bradford has seen plenty of Scrooge at his total best and worst most of all. He’s studied upon every detail of Scrooge’s life, for who knows how many years, and is finally putting all of it to use against him, where we get to see the extent of just how well Bradford can read every one of his moves. Lunaris’ intellect was simply a figurative puddle compared to what Bradford managed to accomplish with his high IQ.

The scary thing is Scrooge knows this reality himself, too.

That’s one of my favorite elements of Impossibin’s purpose. We get to see Scrooge seriously doubt his abilities. In episodes, like The Most Dangerous Game Night and The 87 Cents Solution, Scrooge has always prided himself in being a very sharp individual who could see every angle and any detail that others couldn’t. Bradford, on the other hand, rivals Scrooge’s thinking that puts an eerie perspective on things for the old man. Scrooge always thought to be one step ahead of the game, but then realizes that someone who’s been by his side for so very long played him like a fiddle all those years. Who’s to say Scrooge isn’t probably thinking back on stuff such as Bradford shutting down his rescue operation for Della, controlling his money usage, letting Louie hang around Bradford in The Richest Duck In The World, finalizing Gyro’s inventions, etc? Scrooge realizes he’s had a dangerous character around the family manor all those years, which makes him doubt his ability to trust himself in protecting everything that he holds importantly in life. Scrooge isn’t just thinking he’s been fooled, he’s doubting every aspect of what made him competent to begin with. Doesn’t help among this moment of self reflection Bradford is there to further rub in that harsh reality of how much he knows about Scrooge.

This moment gave me chills because it completely put a spin upon the story’s concept. I figured that FOWL would hack Scrooge’s security system, with help from Gandra Dee’s abilities, and I’m glad it went this route, since it shows how dangerous things are this time. They’re not even safe within the confines of their own manor anymore, considering Bradford knows every nook and cranny of it. Scrooge thought only he knew the security system’s password, given its based on the amount of all money in his money bin, but Bradford covered that crucial detail, too. Bradford isn’t leaving any loose ends toward Scrooge in how he’ll go about using any little thing against him for future reference. That’s what makes the stakes higher here than compared to Lunaris’ invasion. This is a much more personal story between a clash of ideals with Adventuring vs Control. Lunaris lacked that emotional connection here Bradford is making Scrooge have to face that adds another layer of tension to this situation. Bradford wants Scrooge to know, “I have control over you. There is nothing you know that I’ve already figured out about yourself.”, and going about hacking the robotic version of himself is the best way to send home that message to him. It can also be interpreted as symbolism for Scrooge fighting his own insecurities when Bradford takes control of the robot to start attacking.

I need you, the two most cunning individuals I know, to spot any weaknesses.

Now, Della & Louie did serve a big purpose, despite the Plot A point focusing greatly on Scrooge’s existential dilemma, for they were there to remind Scrooge of just how much of an impact his life style has had on them. Della & Louie’s teamwork together throughout the episode is a perfect way to give Scrooge a reality check reminder for how skilled they are as adventurous fighters against unknown dangers. After all, Scrooge passed on his skills to Della, who’d later pass down her intellectual skills to him, too. Again, tying into the whole theme of legacy and what not about how much family can bring out the best in each other. If it wasn’t for what Scrooge had taught them, then he wouldn’t have been saved by Louie’s defining act of being a badass, by willingly diving into the pile of money, which got hit by a gravity changing rosa rune from the robot and ended up crushing it. I wanted to see more mature Louie, so him lifting Scrooge up about how much pride he has in the family lineage was a great nod to it. That in turn, allowed Scrooge to remember why he and their family are strong together. You know, after recent events that have happened in my life, seeing legacy be explored in DuckTales Season 3 means a lot to me now more than ever.

As for Beakly’s B Plot, in terms of how it ties into a neat bow with Scrooge’s story, shows how intense she’s getting at the notion of eventually facing FOWL again. Honestly, I’m not surprised if she’s getting flashbacks of whatever painful or traumatic events happened to her in those Agent 22 days. I mean, for God’s sake, she tells Webby to straight up incapacitate Huey, who was already so scared. Something Webby refuses to agree with as the best course of training methods to better prepare against the greater threat. Beakly’s characterization has always fascinated me with how well she guards her vulnerability, kind of like Goldie in a way, but the difference here is outta great concern for others rather than herself. My mind can’t stop thinking about this scene, as there could most likely be underlying context for why Beakly is getting so worked up over this training. It seems Beakly is carrying a tremendous weight on her shoulders, probably some heavy angst, that it looks like she wants to say, but can’t because of bigger story reasons we’ll find out later in Season 3′s final batch of episodes. Special mention to Donald Duck putting his foot down on Beakly’s very intense training session. Donald knows the trials and errors of what it means to be a parent. He was once very overly protective of Huey, Dewey, and Louie, but learned to let them experience the world for what it is and not hold them back, so I liked how it ties into Beakly’s dilemma of trying to protect Webby from FOWL’s heartless nature.

Beakly’s plot may have not gotten much focus, but it did a very good job setting up more angst to come between her and Webby’s relationship. Things are gonna get very complicated between them when more things come to light. I’m keeping an eye on Huey’s line specifically. When he said, “The one thing we know for sure is that we trust each other, right?”, Beakly did want to bring herself to apologize of course, but I also think she was close to wanting to confess something else to Webby, too. I’m expecting this moment to be called back to when stuff hits the fan with Beakly’s past and whatever Webby’s origins are.

Escape From the Impossibin may have unsettling stuff lurking around the corner with how FOWL managed to distract them with the security system, so they could steal away every missing mystery the family has found so far, but there’s a glimmer of light in all of that darkness. A light that is a reminder of what makes the McDuck family an unstoppable force of trust, hope, and most importantly love. Frank said that things were gonna start going into overdrive with FOWL’s battle against McDuck and he wasn’t kidding around. I’m so overjoyed were getting more episodes in November after this episode finished because that would’ve been a painful wait. Season 3 is gonna start giving things it built up a big pay off and I’m totally here for that!

#ducktales spoilers #escape from the impossibin!#ducktales season 3 #scrooge mcduck #bentina beakly #webby vanderquack #ducktales 2017 #della duck #louie duck

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lifeofkaze · 3 years

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An Art of Balance #6

A/N: If anyone’s interested, the perfume Lizzie is wearing is one of my all-time favourites, Aqua di Gioia by Giorgio Armani. It’s really poorly described here because my olfactory recognition doesn’t go beyond ‘good’ and ‘bad’, but well. It’s divine though. Also, bear with me if sth astrological is wrong, this stuff is complicated! Katriona Cassiopeia (aka KC) belongs to my lovely friend @kc-needs-coffee

Word Count: ~ 2.100

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Chapter 6: A New Perspective

As it turned out, Orion’s decision to name Everett Hufflepuff’s new Beater had been the right one. He still had a way to go, but he immediately fell in line with the rest of the team. What he lacked in precision, he made up in strength.

Orion had taking his individual training on himself. As the team’s captain, he saw it as his personal responsibility to ensure every one of his teammates was able to reach his full potential. Everett was a fast learner, but it would take him a few more sessions to even be remotely able to hold a candle to the Ravenclaw Beaters.

Rath and Cassiopeia had been a well attuned team for many years now, both as skilled a Beater as they came. They would need any protection against them they could get, and the match against Ravenclaw was approaching fast.

Although Orion wasn’t the type of person to let his mind be clouded by worries, he had to admit he wasn’t entirely sure they could get Everett into proper form in time. He had been voicing his concerns to Lizzie the other day, during one of their tutoring sessions. If anyone knew what it took to become a Beater in a short amount of time it was her.

Lately, Orion had found himself looking forward to their meetings in the greenhouse, despite his already tightly packed schedule. It was refreshing to discuss their team matters with someone that didn’t flood him with a multitude of statistics for a change. Lizzie had a different approach to things than him, but they weren’t polar opposites like he and Skye. Exchanging views with her had provided him with a new impulse more than once.

In fact, he had come to enjoy her presence in general, even more so than before. They had always been friends but his knowledge about her had pretty much begun and ended at the Quidditch pitch. Seeing her outside team meetings and practise had allowed him to get to know other sides of her. He’d had no idea Lizzie had been part of the duelling club until last year. Or that Arithmancy was one of her favourite subjects. Or that she used a perfume smelling distinctively of jasmine and mint.

Orion had a harder time bonding with her friend Rowan. He hadn’t had any points of contact with her before he had started tutoring them. Now, several weeks later, he still knew hardly anything about her. She seemed to be exceptionally smart, but also equally as shy. Most of the time she would consult her textbook about the plants he tried to teach them about, while Lizzie paid it no mind, listening to his explanations instead.

Orion couldn’t help his impression that Rowan was struggling with his unconventional style of teaching. He didn’t refer to books more than he had to, rather letting his instinct and experience guide him.

Having trained with him for years, Lizzie knew his way of conveying knowledge was not always straightforward. Rowan, however, had a hard time letting go of protocol. She was clinging to the academic theory as if her life depended on it. Following the rules could help with a lot of problems, but she would never master the delicate nuances advanced Herbology had to offer, if she wasn’t willing to tread paths unknown to her.

“And what exactly is the difference between dried foxglove petals and desiccated foxglove petals?”

McNully snapped him out of his thoughts and back to where they were sitting in the Great Hall. It was study time and most of the students were gathered at their House tables, brooding over their homework.

They had been discussing their latest Potions essay, covering the effects sourcing methods had on the quality of ingredients.

“That is what we are supposed to illustrate, I believe.” Orion dipped his quill into the ink bottle they were sharing and tried to pick up where his wandering thoughts had let him off. His eyes wandered casually across the other Hufflepuff students lining their table.

It lingered where Skye and Lizzie were sitting. Lizzie was rapidly flicking through the pages of her textbook with a puzzled expression. Skye was talking insistently at her, looking equally as bewildered.

Several heads shot up as Lizzie audibly slammed her book shut and clambered off the bench. When Skye made no move to follow her, she jerked the other girl up off her seat and motioned with her head towards where he and McNully were sat.

They quietly walked towards the head of the Hufflepuff table. Seeing them approach, McNully reached for his wheelchair that was blocking the way. He moved it aside to allow the girls to join them. Orion smiled.

“What can we help you with?”

Wordlessly, Lizzie held up her copy of Unfogging the Future and slid into a seat between Murphy and him. She reopened the page she had been examining before and gave a frustrated sigh.

“I cannot tell you how much I hate Divination, I really can’t. You’re good at this, aren’t you?”

Orion supressed a smile. “So I am told. What bothers you in particular?”

“It’s those bloody birthstones,” Skye explained. “No matter how often we go over it, Lizzie and I always come to different results and we can’t find the mistake.”

They handed him their notes and Orion quickly gave them a check before returning them.

“That is because both choices are correct. There is more than one birthstone for each of the zodiac signs. You both chose the right stone for the right sign, but in different parts of the time span covered.”

Skye groaned in frustration, earning her a chiding glance from Professor Flitwick, who was supervising them today. “What do you mean, more than one? Why can’t this stuff be straightforward for once?”

“Everyone is different and such is reflected in the stones fortifying our inner strengths. Why should there be so little birthstones when there are so many traits to represent?”

Both girls looked at him with blank expressions.

Patiently, he flipped the pages to one of the star charts at the back of the book. “The astrological year is divided into the twelve zodiac signs. Each zodiac sign is subdivided into three decades, meaning a set of ten days. There are additional factors to consider, but simply put, there are three birthstones for each sign, representing one decade each. That is why you come to different conclusions, you didn’t factor in the time of the month.”

He contemplated telling them about the stones meant to counteract each signs weaknesses. But seeing Skye pinching the bridge of her nose, while was Lizzie trying to process what he had just said, muttering “I hate Divination” under her breath, he decided against it. Better not too much at once.

“How do you know all this nonsense?” Skye was shaking her head in disbelief.

“I know all this because it is explained in the introduction of the chapter you two apparently weren’t reading too diligently.” He turned the pages back to the beginning and pointed at the paragraph on the first page.

Lizzie’ cheeks flushed a bright read as she quickly scanned the text. “I can’t believe I overlooked this.” Embarrassed, she quickly snatched the book out of Orion’s hands and got up. “Thanks for helping anyway.”

They made their way back to their places, the scent of jasmine and mint lingering behind. Orion was always glad if he could help a friend. A few seats down the table, Lizzie was discussing what he had just told them with Skye. He thought back on what Penny and Murphy had said on the train ride to Hogwarts a few weeks earlier.

Lizzie really had changed a lot. She seemed to be standing taller, an air of effortless confidence around her. The blush on her cheeks had made her look really pretty, reminding him of how the rush of the wind brought the colour to her face when she was flying. She was moving differently as well, more graceful and fluently, her hips swaying ever so slightly with every step she took. He had never noticed her hips swaying like that before.

McNully nudged his shoulder. “Uhm, Orion… if you don’t want to rewrite your whole essay, I’d move my quill if I was you.”

He snapped out of it and looked down at his parchment. The ink was dripping from the tip of his quill, forming a large black puddle at the end of his last sentence that was quickly spreading onto the rest of his half-finished essay.

Orion cursed under his breath, immediately drawing his wand to vanish the excess ink. Fortunately not too much of his work was ruined.

McNully raised his eyebrows. “Such a strong language, my friend. I have only heard you curse three times, so far. One time was when you crashed your broom into the commentary box and broke your wrist, the second time when you forgot the time while broom balancing and almost missed your Defence Against the Dark Arts O.W.L. exam and the third time when you burned yourself on your cauldron and spilled Wiggenweld Potion all over Professor Snape. This reaction is 87,9 % surprising.”

He felt the heat creeping up his neck. McNully was right, he wasn’t easily enticed to displaying his emotions verbally. He hadn’t meant to let himself slip like that.

Choosing not to answer his curious friend, he committed himself to restoring the missing part of his essay. But McNully wouldn’t let it pass like that.

He was nodding in the direction of Lizzie. “I wonder if she knows how much attention she is attracting.”

Orion gripped his quill a little tighter, concentrating on finishing his sentence. He fought the urge to follow McNully’s gaze.

“Our friend has a captivating personality, for sure. But would you mind lifting the veil of ignorance from my eyes and tell me how you reached such a conclusion?”

For a moment, McNully smirked knowingly before he directed Orion’s attention over to where their roommates were sitting. He could easily make out what McNully had been referring to. Everett was eyeing the girls up without even trying to conceal it.

“Him, of course. He’s been checking Lizzie out ever since she came over to us.” He smiled innocently at him. “Why, who did you think I was talking about?”

Orion’s brow furrowed in concern. He didn’t like the predatory look on Everett’s face. This guy had somewhat of a reputation.

“Yeah, I don’t like the looks he’s giving her either,” McNully echoed his unspoken thoughts with a scowl. He leaned closer to him, putting his elbow on Orion’s shoulder in conspiratorial way. “I think we should do something about it, don’t you? And by ‘we’, I obviously mean ‘you’.”

Shaking off McNully’s hand, Orion gave him a disapproving look. “And why would I do that? He is our new Beater if you don’t recall.”

“For the sake of the team, of course!”

McNully started reciting his calculations. “I’d put the chance of him going for our little Chaser prodigy at roughly 80 %. There are some variables unaccounted for, but I’d say the chances of Lizzie falling for him lie at something around 54 %. Which would affect the team’s dynamic gravely. And we can’t have that decreasing our- I mean, your odds on winning the Quidditch Cup.”

Orion blew onto his parchment until the ink had properly dried. “You talk as if he was actually hitting her up. All he did was looking at her.”

And there was certainly nothing wrong with looking.

“Lizzie can fend for herself if need be. Besides, who am I to interfere with the course the heart is deciding to take.”

McNully looked at him as if he had lost his mind. “Mate… I don’t think the heart has much to with it if you get my drift. Seriously, do something.”

“Don’t worry, I will.” He stood up and handed Professor Flitwick his work of the day.

McNully raised one eyebrow at him. “And what would that be?”

Orion gathered his strewn books and notes. “Finding balance inside and outside of my mind, my dear friend. See you at dinner.”

#art of balance #lizzie jameson #orion amari #orion x mc #orion amari x mc #hphm #hogwarts mystery #skye parkin #murphy mcnully #quidditch #quidditch squad #the quidditch squad

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magicalforcesau · 3 years

Text

Dancing With Ghosts in Your Garden~ Chapter 18 - Year 2: February

(ao3 link)

In lieu of the incident with the sleeping draught, all prefects were mandated to enroll in Professor Palpatine’s brand new weekly Potions seminars. As the misstep with the Vitamix potion along with Maul’s nearing presence showed, it was ideal that all prefects be properly trained in the event that professors were once again subdued. This, they felt, combined with Professor Fisto’s ongoing dueling club, would prepare them.

Obi-Wan’s doubts of how prepared they could possibly be for something so unpredictable grew stronger with each day. Although he was already enrolled in the advanced potions class, he would never deny the opportunity to learn more. If anything, it would at least offer more practice.

“Given that it’s February, I figured it best we start with a common favorite amongst the masses of troublemakers,” Palpatine’s shoes clicked on the ground as he paced at the front of the room.

From what Obi-Wan understood, Palpatine didn’t receive any punishment for the accidental sleeping potion brew. Yoda had, of course, received a rather scathing howler from the Ministry at his supposed flightiness, of which he took the blame for. It seemed Anakin had stepped up and claimed it was he who accidentally knocked the draught in the already brewing potion.

That all certainly added up and did not help Anakin’s reputation amongst his peers.

“Any guesses to what that would be?” Palpatine asked, eagerly taking in the small crowd of Hogwarts’ best with expectant eyes.

Because this was a class full of prefects, each were considerably decent students and wanted to learn. There were exceptions, Obi-Wan realized as he looked over to a nearly snoozing Zeb, but they were outliers.

“Love potions?” Breha Organa said rather dreamily. Obi-Wan didn’t need to turn around to know she’d been looking at Bail as she said it.

“Right you are, Breha!” Palpatine smiled, “Amortentia is the most powerful love potion in the world, at that. Many of you and your students are for the first time diving into the wondrous and mysterious landscape that is romance. Some of you aren’t even aware that you are.”

Did he look at Obi-Wan on purpose? No, that would be silly. Palpatine always took care to rove eye contact throughout the classroom. It was a sufficient method of maintaining focus and Obi-Wan knew this, but he still shifted his gaze immediately elsewhere like he’d been caught copying homework.

“Love and potions aren’t all that different, really.” He continued, “The right and organic combination makes a fruitful and prosperous brew. The wrong and inauthentic combination is bitter and not made to last.”

“And if you’re not careful, you could end up with a wrinkly, scrawny little creature.” Zeb added knowingly, earning a few chuckles throughout the group.

“As if you’ve got anything to worry about there.” Caleb muttered, and much to Zeb’s dismay, acquired a more popular response.

“Boys, please.” Palpatine chastised, “I don’t want word to travel that Gryffindor’s prefects lost them points.”

“Cody would have an aneurysm,” Satine whispered and Obi-Wan only nodded in response. It was no secret to either of them that their friend was less than pleased with how bleak Gryffindor’s odds of obtaining either the House or Quidditch cup were becoming. If he heard that Caleb and Zeb worsened those odds, neither would be awaiting a very pretty conversation.

The troublesome two seemed to recognize this and justly shut their traps.

The class turned back to Palpatine, who seemed rather satisfied with the change in their mood and circled around the cauldron at the center of his desk. From it, emerged a pink fog that resembled a cloud at sunset and judging by the smile its scent drew from Palpatine, it smelled as pleasant as it looked.

“A love potion manufactures the deepest desires from the person who ingests it, manifesting them all at once in an intoxicating fashion that causes them to see the intended target in a different light.” He said almost reverently, “Ironically, it’s called a love potion, when it should really be called an infatuation potion.”

“That’s because you can’t build love from a substance.” Satine muttered from beside him. “Try as some might.”

Obi-Wan stared at the cauldron. He’d heard of amortentia. Evidently, a cheap ineffective version was sold at Zonko’s in Hogsmeade, though he never took much care to notice. He didn’t know much about love, save for the fact that it seemed highly unlikely for anything to recreate something as complicated as attraction.

She raised her hand, “Professor? Aren’t love potions banned at Hogwarts?”

“That they are,” Palpatine said with crossed hands, “Though that’s not to say they haven’t been smuggled in before.”

“Why would they do that?” A familiar high pitched voice from the back called.

Despite his interest in the subject, Obi-Wan couldn’t resist snapping his neck in turning to see none other than Anakin Skywalker sitting at the back desk, looking incredibly small in stature next to Onaconda Farr. Farr, in his defense, looked just as confused by Anakin’s presence as Obi-Wan felt.

“What are you doing here?” Obi-Wan asked him, “This is supposed to be for prefects only.”

“Not to worry, Mr. Kenobi, I did grant Anakin permission to attend.” Palpatine answered before Anakin could muster up a smart response, “Anakin shows a real knack for potions and given the circumstances, I would say it’s best that he be included whenever he could be protected.”

Obi-Wan slumped back in his chair, feeling properly admonished. It wasn’t that he didn’t think Anakin was capable. It was quite the opposite, actually, but there was an order to these things and learning advanced spells before one was ready did not seem indicative of a sound idea. Anakin needed to learn the building blocks still, whether he believed it or not. Despite his talent, he knew there was an absence of maturity to handle heavy source material. Dueling was one thing, as there was an obvious precedence for it right now and it was typically taught to some degree during second year anyway. Teaching Anakin about love potions felt more like giving a dog a steak and telling him not to eat it. He could try to convince everyone that he was over his crush on Padmé all he wanted, but it simply wasn’t true.

“To answer your question, Anakin,” Palpatine continued, “When someone is too blind with desperation to see reason, they will do just about anything to acquire what they want. A love potion, while sounding frilly and fun, occludes all rational thinking from the person it's given to.”

“And typically, it’s not ingested voluntarily.” Satine added.

Obi-Wan frowned, thinking of the potentially dastardly effects such a tool could provide for a desperately lovesick person. It was no different than being under a curse, in a sense, because the poor sap trapped in such a state had no agency whatsoever.

“How does one tell if someone is suffering from the effects of a love potion?” Fenn Rau asked.

“Why, you see them every day in young and happy couples as you walk through these halls. They’re starry-eyed, flushed, unspeakably happy, practically in a trance.”

“How are we to tell the difference then?” Obi-Wan asked.

“These features tend to be a good deal more exemplified and elongated.” Palpatine said, “For instance, while the honeymoon phase is technically normal, it’s really not meant to last. There’s also known to be loss of memory in the person as the potion begins to fade. We advise that you all keep an eye and see if you notice any excessively clingy and almost controlling couples.”

Obi-Wan thought about his parents, finding it very hard to believe they ever had any semblance of a honeymoon phase. They were so professional all the time that he’d rarely seen them even smile in the other’s presence. Of course, he was always splitting up sneaky couples that tried to sneak off to snog, so he supposed he did have some experience witnessing what Palpatine was referring to. Part of him was having a difficult time reconciling with the fact that it was their ancient potions professor who was explaining to them the complexities of romance.

“Because of the dangers that this possesses,” He waved a little pink vial around for all to show, allowing the light to catch it in a way that made it sparkle, “I believe it’s important that you understand these properties quite well and that you take care not to share this information outside of this room.”

There was a warning tone to his voice that was rarely used and Obi-Wan swore everyone sat up even straighter, though he doubted that was possible for Satine, who already appeared quite alert.

“It’s okay to take notes, of course, right?” Hondo asked from the other back corner of the room opposite to Anakin.

“Yes, but-” The older man did a double take as he whipped back around, “Hondo, what are you doing here?”

Obi-Wan thought it was fairly obvious what Hondo was doing and why he was suddenly so apt to take notes. He hadn’t thought to say anything when he originally saw him, seeing as if Anakin was invited, maybe he’d thought to include another unexpected guest. Hondo was possessed for a significant amount of time, after all.”

“Just trying to perfect my recipe is all.” Hondo had the gall to shrug, “What’s so wrong about that?”

“You mean besides intruding upon a meeting where you are not welcome and admitting in advance that you intend to sell an illegal substance throughout the school?” Palpatine asked, “I suppose we could discuss your time management skills, seeing as you have plenty of potion’s homework that you could be catching up on.”

Reading the room for a change, Hondo sighed like a great disservice had just been done to him, “You can’t fault a guy for trying.”

“Actually, I can. 15 points from Slytherin.” Palpatine crossed his arms, “And I expect your essay on Felix Felicis on my desk tomorrow morning.”

“My tutor isn’t going to like that.” Hondo grumbled as he walked by Obi-Wan, “He’s not even finished my Charms presentation.”

“Why would you say that to us?” Satine hissed, knowing full well that they were now going to have to look up the legitimacy of Hondo’s new “tutor” in their dwindling free time.

“I’m honest to a fault!” He shrugged as he fully exited the room and was promptly locked out by Palpatine. He even took the effort of using two padlocks to secure the job. To be fair, Hondo was quite slippery.

“Now,” He said as he clapped his hands together once, “Why don’t we get to the important part? Brewing!”

***

This was a colossal waste of his time, skills, and resources.

While Sidious normally enjoyed when the school devolved into chaos, he did not appreciate when it stood in the way of his plans. Right now, his former apprentice was the obstacle that could feasibly destroy everything he’d worked tirelessly to achieve, all before it could truly start.

He knew he should have killed him when he had the chance, but Azkaban just seemed all the more fitting for the murder machine to waste his days away at the hand of his own failure. He would not make that mistake ever again.

So, it seemed Sidious’ own interests aligned with the rest of his colleagues: get rid of Maul. It felt peculiar- to be on the same side as the enemy, but if he wanted to defeat them, he needed this loose cannon of a pawn to be decimated before it was too late.

And through it all, the putrid “open-minded” community only served to remind him why they needed to be brought to an end. In what world would enlisting the Potions professor to teach love potions be useful? How he managed to seem convincing, he was unsure, because there was no greater waste of time than the frivolous pursuit of love. Well, unless it was being manipulated as a fulcrum for change.

Even with as little soul as he had remaining, if any, he still found the smell of amortentia to be utterly arousing. They certainly wouldn’t enjoy to know what he smelled when he breathed in amortentia: fire, ash, rubble, stained blood.

They should be barricading, sending students out in troves to hunt the demon down, and utilize the muggle-borns as bait in a trap to be sprung. Maul couldn’t resist the hunt. He knew such instincts never changed, not even from the waning sense of purpose that Azkaban reduced men to.

Instead, here he was, giving a pointless lecture on the dangers of love potions. After which, they’ll have another practice dueling session with snowballs. It was pitiful. At the very least, they should be using stones. Children needed to learn pain at an early age. They needed to become so familiar with the sensation that they found home in it. In the hearth of that home, is the power that exists from within. Only then, can they prevail.

He glanced to the back corner of the room and felt his lips twitch. Between this year and the last, Skywalker was becoming quite acquainted with pain. He grimaced as he took in the rest of the lot, noting how soft they all were as they nervously discovered what attracted them when they leaned over their brewing cauldrons. At least he’d been able to kick that waste of blood Ohnaka out. He was spared of that particular headache, especially when just looking at the boy angered him to no end when he considered how deeply that botched experiment failed. Truly, that family couldn’t do anything right- not even when under hypnosis.

He had no doubts that Maul was scoping out the land, realizing just how weak these wizards had gotten since he was in school- that his lessons from Sidious had always reigned supreme and that no one stood in his way, save for Yoda and Sidious, himself. That would be disastrous if anyone witnessed a reunion between the two. They would know instantly.

Then again, if Sidious were to capture and kill Maul, he would only further his popularity amongst the simpletons that allegedly “ran” their community. Perhaps, there could be salvaging of this wreck. Tyranus need not be the only one to pull strings in the wake of Maul’s drama. It was only fitting, since Sidious was the marionettist and this was to be his show.

Not only that, but such a feat would certainly impress the boy, who clearly had a sound reason for disliking Maul. While Sidious loathed the concept of needing to work towards the trust and approval of a child, understood that in due time, it would be worth it.

Even if such a boy nearly killed them all with his own klutziness.

Sidious breathed a steadying breath, just barely turned away from any possible lingering gazes.

He moved over to his desk and opened the top drawer. He needed a drink.

***

Satine, like many of the curious girls in her year, had done fair research on the subject of amortentia. Apparently, it had ruined its fair share of marriages as well as mental health states, making it completely illegal to produce for private or public subsidization. It seemed, curiously, only the aurors could do so with Ministry approval. That, much to Satine’s confusion, was the case for many subjects.

“Because I would hate to have a bunch of little zombies in my class, we’ll just be smelling the potions today.” Palpatine announced.

Despite her knowledge that amortentia affected everyone differently, she still wasn’t quite expecting the drunk-like sensation that filled her up from head to toe as she took a deep breath in from the fumes that emanated off the surface. Everything around her seemed to move in slow motion and her chest rose and fell with the relaxed notion of falling asleep, except she simultaneously never felt more stimulated in her life.

She’d never known that you could smell so many wonderful things at once yet still differentiate them for what they were and more importantly, how it got her flushed in a way that made her shift in her seat.

New books, homemade apple pie, crisp fall air, the lingering remnants of a minty aftershave wrapping around her like a scarf…

She started out of her reverie, blushing too mad to even consider looking to her left no matter how curious she suddenly was. Her heart was beating out of her chest and if she wasn’t absolutely certain of the potency of amortentia, she’d have the decency to be more embarrassed. Instead, she willed herself to calm down and refused to breathe through her nose any further, no matter how warm she felt when she had.

While none of what she witnessed was news to her per say, it wasn’t like she made a habit of lollygagging and daydreaming in the middle of a classroom setting. It was quite disarming to be so vulnerable yet also so close to what (or who, for that matter) was driving her crazy to begin with.

“Problem, Mr. Kenobi?” Palpatine was suddenly standing in front of them, which was at least a little bit of a distraction.

A ringing in her brain wanted desperately to ask him what he smelled, but she felt herself frown deeply when she noticed Obi-Wan was leaning with his entire face in his little cauldron, trying desperately to catch a whiff. Surely, if he got any closer, he was going to accidentally inhale the potion through his nose.

“I might have brewed it incorrectly.” He muttered, echoing a bit from still having his head in the cauldron.

“Let me see,” Palpatine urged him to lift his head and under normal circumstances, Satine might tease him for the little creases that the rim brought to his face.

The professor raised his nose to the fumes that still wafted through the air and smiled dreamily. She wondered if they would ever know what he was seeing when he inhaled the scent. It was none of their business to ask, but she really couldn’t picture Palpatine being in love with anyone.

“No, no, it’s perfectly correct,” He said with the airs of residual glee, “Why?”

Instead of giving him a straight answer, Obi-Wan turned to Satine, “I think I need you to move.”

Any previous concern, as per usual with Obi-Wan, was replaced with a scalding sort of annoyance only reserved for him, “What? Why?”

As she held her own special adverse reaction to him, he had one for her that matched. His eyebrows furrowed as he gestured to his cauldron. Sometimes, he was far too serious for his own good, “As lovely as your perfume is, you don’t need to go so heavy-handed with it! I can’t smell the potion.”

Satine, who initially believed they were going to get into an argument, found that she had no points to be made, because all that came out of her mouth was a little puff of air. Palpatine, if she had the eyes to spare him a look, was equally as surprised, even if not nearly as emotionally invested in such a rebuff.

“What?” Obi-Wan finally asked, growing more annoyed at not being in on the punchline.

Everyone else was suspiciously quiet too, much to Satine’s growing unease, but she could hardly spare a thought other than to say, “I’m out of perfume, actually. I sent Copikla home yesterday so my mum could send me a new bottle.”

Instead of being annoyed, the clouds seemed to clear, if only a little bit, and he flickered back to the potion, “But how-”

“-It smells different to everyone.” Palpatine, who looked between the two of them with his face stretched in discomfort and eyebrows raised beyond physics, clarified with a tone that was clearly meant for only them, “Based on what the individual finds attractive.”

All of the color seemed to wash out of Obi-Wan’s charmingly embarrassed face as his mind worked rapidly to wrap his head around that answer. Even though she hadn’t breathed in her potion again, Satine still swore she was suddenly feeling the effects of it.

“I- Well,” He tried to formulate a response, but to his credit, he had just admitted that he was at the very least attracted to her perfume (which she made the mental note to stock up on more frequently), in front of the entire class of prefects and Anakin.

“Oooooooh Obi-Wan likes perfume.” Anakin, while completely missing the point and a big teasing opportunity, shattered the tension that previously froze the entire room and everyone burst out into a fit of needed laughter. Even Obi-Wan laughed, though nervously, as he flashed Satine the occasional glance here and there through lowered lashes, as if trying to gage her reaction to this accidental admission.

She smiled. Clearly, it was to her benefit to read ahead of him.

“For what it’s worth,” She said in the midst of the uncontrollable chatter that erupted thanks to Anakin’s offhand comment, “You smell nice too.”

He blushed, which she found she quite liked the shade of pink on his face, “Thanks.”

It didn’t address the underlying implications, just as neither of them seized the moment to do so on Christmas Eve. She found it was just as frustrating trying to guess what was going on inside of his head as it was waiting for him to do something about the things she did know.

As much as she wanted the cat to be fully out of the bag, she knew the middle of Palpatine’s potions class wasn’t the time or place.

***

“I believe it’s a mistake to have any more Hogsmeade trips this year,” Qui-Gon said to his other heads of house and to Yoda, who was staring quite pensively out the window, “Not when we know what we know. It’s quite possible that Maul has an entrance to the school if he truly is behind what happened to Bultar Swan.”

“We have no real proof that he is, though.” Shaak Ti said, “It certainly doesn’t seem like his style.”

“While I know the usual term “innocent until proven guilty” is our mantra, I think we should consider being more hesitant with Maul.” Qui-Gon said.

“I agree,” Windu nodded, standing firmly next to him, “Though having more students out of the school would allow us a proper amount of time to sweep the school and see if he had any secret entrances.”

“We have that same opportunity at night.” Qui-Gon said.

“You know this school shifts and changes between night and day,” Palpatine said warily, “It is ever-moving and Bultar Swan was attacked in broad daylight in a common room.”

“Why are we not interviewing more Ravenclaws then?” Windu asked, “We’ve got to do something! Skywalker’s mother is missing and we all know that boy isn’t going to lay down and allow for speculation to simply rise without doing something foolish.”

“I don’t appreciate your assumptions of Anakin.” Qui-Gon said, “He’s a bright, even if impulsive boy, who is going through an unspeakable grief.”

“No one twice his age should have to endure what he’s going through,” Shaak Ti said kindly, “Let alone as young as he.”

“I’m not saying he has no reason to act out.” Windu raised his hands, “I’m merely stating that it is only a matter of time before he takes matters into his own hands.”

“That would make it easier for Maul, unfortunately,” Palpatine agreed, “Perhaps we should motion to shut off the Floo network?”

“Done that, I have.” Yoda spoke up, “Because used it, he did.”

“For what?” Qui-Gon asked eagerly.

“Unknown location, he accessed.” Yoda mused, “Unregistered through the network, it is. Talk to Dooku, I suspect.”

Palpatine frowned, “That can’t be good.”

“No, it can’t.” Windu agreed, “Can you extend your protective charms to Hogsmeade, Yoda?”

“Do that, I did, after we woke up from the sleeping incident.”

“Oh, so it’s safe then.” Shaak Ti shrugged, “The dementors haven’t detected Maul on the inside and he was last seen on Diagon Alley.”

“I’m sure this is quite exhausting for you, Headmaster.” Windu acknowledged.

It was true. Extending his powers over an entire settlement as well as the castle at all times would have drained any normal wizard to death. Yoda, as it were, was not a normal wizard. Even still, it was visible on his worn features that he was exhausted.

“Safe, the students should be,” He said instead, “But careful we will still be. Search the school we will for secret entrances while they are gone, we will.”

***

“Are they gone yet?” Anakin asked, ducking up from where he’d been digging furiously through his trunk. Rex who was sitting on the window sill keeping watch over the massive gates of Hogwarts nodded slowly.

“Yeah I think so,” He confirmed, stretching his arms above his head and yawning, “I dunno mate, don’t you think a nice Saturday in might be nicer than trying this again. Don’t you remember what happened last time?”

“Psh!” Anakin waved a hand, “Well we’re certainly not trying anything like that again. Although I would like to get another look at that sword.”

“I figured you’d seen enough swords in your short life,” Rex rolled his eyes, “Didn’t Dooku intend to sacrifice you with one?”

“It was still cool, but I’m not really trying to go to Hogsmeade, just give off a good impression.” Anakin shrugged before he pulled out his nicest T-Shirt, swiftly pulling the one he had been wearing off and switching them out, “Well how do I look?”

“The same but in green,” Rex deadpanned leaning his head on his hand, “If all we’re doing up here is playing dress up then I’d much rather get this show on the road.”

“Oh come on,” Anakin checked himself out in the dingy mirror on the back of the door. He was really hoping he’d run into Padmé; he thought she’d like it. He’d already seen her leave, but overheard her talking to her friends about Rabé meeting them later and taking the tunnels. His mum had bought it for him over the summer and he tried to push past the rising feeling of sadness, “We had to wait until all the prefects left anyways, I’m not really looking to be caught and dragged back here by any of them and especially not Zeb, who was eyeing us up pretty hard at breakfast.”

Rex shuddered, “Definitely don’t need him tossing us through the portrait hole again. It’s not our fault that the rest of the second years left without us!”

“I’d hate to see what happens if we’re caught alone of our own accord,” Anakin grinned, despite the true statement, such a thing wouldn’t stop them, “Well, let’s go before Windu gets here to babysit.”

“Right,” Rex grimaced, standing up and grabbing his wand. Anakin grabbed his as well, throwing it into his robe, it was much too cold to go around without it, and they headed down and out of the common room. He really hoped no one would snitch on them.

The two traversed the halls carefully. Keeping quiet for once to listen for approaching footsteps and ducking into a few empty classrooms to avoid the ghosts lurking around the otherwise empty halls. It took much longer than they’d have liked to make it down to where the tunnel’s entrance would begin. Luckily, the map showed Rabé’s little figure moving in that direction too, marking a bit of a clear path. She would lead them straight to Padmé.

Anakin’s heart rate increased for more reasons than being caught.

He thought better of it. Obi-Wan would probably kill him on the spot if he slithered out of the tunnel and into Hogsmeade. Not to mention, Maul was lurking around in the area looking for him. Maybe, if they caught up with Rabé in the tunnel, he could simply give her the necklace to give to Padmé.

It didn’t sound incredibly indicative of his house in terms of bravery, but he knew at least Obi-Wan would approve of his method.

“Almost there!” Anakin grinned at Rex, but almost had his head knocked clean from his body when Rex grabbed his robe and yanked him hard into an empty classroom, “Wha-?”

“Shh!!” Rex was very much alert and his eyes narrowed as they both heard footsteps echoing off the walls. The footsteps paused just outside of the door and Rex cursed under his breath as a shadow moved towards the entrance. Rex glared at Anakin for a few minutes before mouthing, ‘You owe me!’ and straightening.

“Mr. Fett?” Palpatine’s confused voice echoed off the stone walls, “What are you doing here? And all alone?”

“Sorry Professor,” Rex gave Palpatine a rather over the top concerned look, “It’s just, I haven’t seen Anakin since breakfast and he did mention he was thinking about coming to see you.”

“To see me?” The professor sounded a little more surprised than Anakin thought he should, but perhaps he was trying to avoid looking like he picked favorites, “Well I certainly haven’t seen him. I’ll keep an eye out, but I’m going to need to escort you outside with the other second years.”

Anakin winced, of course even Palpatine wouldn’t be willing to overlook a student wandering the halls without an escort. He’d have to bring Rex back something good from Hogsmeade.

“Alright, thank you Professor,” Rex nodded, although he didn’t look very thankful in Anakin’s opinion.

Their footsteps faded away, but still Anakin waited a minute longer before darting from the classroom himself.

He wandered the empty halls, being extra careful to listen and flicker his eyes to the map. Rex was a little more perceptive than he tended to be. Anakin certainly didn’t want to get caught, but at least he knew what story to go with if he did.

Finally, he reached the entrance of the tunnel, looking around carefully, he quickly slipped inside and hurried to close the entrance, plunging him into complete darkness.

Anakin pulled his wand out, lighting it with a, “Lumos Maxima,” They’d been working to improve their maximizing skills in charms recently and Anakin felt it was paying off. The tunnels were rather boring and unremarkable. He remembered them being pretty long, though he’d never made it all the way to the end the last time.

He took his time, kicking away rocks and humming softly. He still didn’t want to give his position away if there was someone scouting the tunnel for mischievous students, but boredom without Rex crept in fast.

He paused a moment at an odd noise and listened hard. It was a soft shuffling noise and despite the echo, it sounded like it was coming from behind him. Could it be another student trying the same thing he was? Unlikely, most of the houses were pretty locked down outside. He wasn’t sure why the professors had been so insistent on a supervised snow day, but most students went for it.

That left the possibility that he was about to be caught.

Letting the fear of boring evenings in detention spur him on, he picked up the pace until he was running rather swiftly. With the way his wand was swinging, the light bounced around enough to make him motion sick so he gave it a quiet, “Nox,” not letting up on the speed of which his shoes pounded the ground.

He slowed when he nearly tripped over something lying on the ground, but wasn’t quick enough to avoid running right into someone.

Anakin fell backwards with an, “oof,” He tried to catch his breath for a moment, “Sorry, Rabé,” He said softly standing up, “While I’ve got you, I’ve got a question for you. Lumos.”

His wand tip glowed again, revealing him face to face with a student’s face frozen in a scream. This was not Rabé. Anakin stumbled back, tripping on what felt like the fabric of a scarf, before he saw the glint of eyes reflecting the light off his wand.

Yellow. Bright yellow eyes narrowing as they realized they’d been caught. Anakin felt his heart leap in his chest. Fear filling his lungs, causing him to nearly choke on a scream. He heard the eyes take a step forward and he scrambled to his feet and fell into a sprint. His wand light faded as his concentration waned and he shoved it into his robes.

He shouldn’t be running from Maul, because that’s who it was, of course. He’d vowed revenge even if Qui-Gon always gave him that sad sort of look when he said it. He should be back there giving that kidnapper a piece of his mind. He was the Chosen One, it was his job to save everyone and take down the bad guys.

Even as these thoughts played in his mind, he continued to sprint, fear pushing him into overdrive. He nearly screeched again when he ran full tilt into something human knocking them both to the ground.

“Bloody hell!”

“Rex!” Anakin was relieved to find someone he knew, but it wasn’t enough to stop the adrenaline that had him back on his feet and pulling desperately on Rex’s arm to get him to move, “We have to go now!”

“Great, I just escape Palpatine only to get caught again. Who is it? Windu?” Anakin nearly growled at the slow pace Rex was moving at.

“It’s Maul! We have to go!” That was enough to get him moving.

They didn’t stop to even breathe again until they burst from the wall and right into Professors Palpatine and Qui-Gon who nearly got bowled over.

“What-” Qui-Gon looked ready to start a lecture and Palpatine even looked like he was ready to dole out a few point reductions, but Rex cut them off quickly.

“Anakin saw him!” Rex was pointing his wand at the entrance to the tunnel like Maul was about to come out right then and there for a fight.

“Saw who?” Palpatine asked head tilting to the side in curiosity and Anakin nearly spat the name out as he joined Rex in his battle stance.

“Maul.”

***

The deafening screech that stretched from Hogwarts through Hogsmeade with painful clarity was one that very few students attributed meaning to. It wasn’t unreasonable that students, particularly younger ones, immediately leapt into disorder, running hither and yon, terrified they were about to be dive-bombed. It was a horrible sight to see, even if it didn’t make his job all the more difficult.

Designed with the vocal cords of mandrakes, the emergency siren was only used in times of utter duress and was a means of warning students and faculty to return to Hogwarts at once. Historically, it hadn’t been officially sounded since the early twentieth century. Even still, prefects were always trained on what to do in the event of hearing the siren.

All the training in the world still didn’t fully prepare Obi-Wan for the very real visceral reaction that the ear-splitting sound brought. Of course, he could not spare a single moment to think, a tough reality for a Ravenclaw, and immediately moved forward with what he’d been taught: gather his house, ensure they were all in company, and get them back to the school.

While not given a direct message with it, everyone seemed to share the same thought as he did. There was only one true reason that the archaic alarm would be used right now accompanied by the dementors that jetted across the sky: Maul was close.

Not only close, but likely in their midst.

Shop owners wasted little time in evacuating their premises and battening down the hatches, effectively snuffing the warm glow of Hogsmeade in a singular swoop. His brain was busy scanning the hysterical crowd that was amid constant motion, searching for every and any blue-robed student that he might come across. It occurred to him now that there was perhaps more meaning to the explicitly placed Hogsmeade dress code than the professors led on to. It certainly made rounding up students a lot easier when they were color-coded.

Moving around on the ice-laden stone walkways? Less easy. He’d not only had to catch his own balance in his haste, but many other wobbly students. Even Satine’s elbow was caught by him a time or two, of which she spared no time to thank him, though he knew otherwise she would. She was just as stern as him in their mission, practically grabbing students and sliding them across the way to the huddle of other students, hardly blinking in the process.

It was with this goal in mind that he was able to develop a razor focus that practically tuned out the alarm. That, or the pounding in his ears did a decent job of it. Silently, he found the space to be relieved that Anakin was safe back at the castle with the other younger students.

It couldn’t have taken more than a couple of minutes to successfully corral all of the students that lingered about. It wasn’t as though any of them truly wanted to sneak off, after all. The horror on everyone’s faces spoke volumes of their concern.

Each of the prefects did their headcounts rapidly, trying not to dawdle for a moment longer than necessary, all praying they reached the same number they started with. He felt capable of breathing again when Ravenclaw reached that quota. Gryffindor prefects, it seemed, had forgotten to include themselves for a moment, which briefly induced a panic that was quickly assuaged by an irritated Mace Windu.

Perhaps it was a bit presumptuous to be relieved that Mace Windu and Kit Fisto were the supervising professors that day, but it certainly helped their odds to have experienced fighters of dark magic alongside them. The sky grew dark above them, not from the descending sun, but from the mere presence of the dementors swarming together like an ominous storm cloud.

No one looked back as they were ushered down through the storm cellar beneath Honeydukes, which remained open only at Windu’s order.

“Move quickly, don’t linger, don’t stop, don’t pause!” He ordered in a booming voice that didn’t even need to be amplified with a charm.

While Gryffindor’s prefects had nobly volunteered to lead the charge of students down and through the tunnel, the others remained on the side, performing last-minute counts to ensure all made it safely while urging them to hurry it up. No one seemed to have a problem with performing the latter, but some were getting a little rowdy in the process.

“Hey, hey, this is not an excuse to push or shove!” Satine chastised a few overeager Slytherins, “The only way this works is if you work together!”

She was right, of course, but Obi-Wan believed it was falling on deaf ears. They were terrified and rightfully so. Perhaps they shouldn’t have allowed the Hogsmeade trip to occur in the first place with everything going on. It was almost like they were trying to lure Maul in. If that was the case, it was a very sadistic choice.

Padmé Amidala as well as her friends had been some of the last people to filter in, surprisingly, and tears stained their cheeks.

“Keep it moving, ladies!” Kit Fisto ordered.

“We can’t find Rabé!” Sabé, the girl who looked most like Padmé, cried.

“I’m sure she’s here somewhere.” Windu said, “Slytherin house reported no missing students based on their earlier count. Now GO!”

“She came later!” Padmé insisted, pushing back against the hands of Fenn Rau, who was trying to make them descend down the ladder. “We never saw her!”

“Then maybe she never came at all?” Satine tried.

“She came.” Padmé looked between both of them, “I know she did! She wouldn’t flake out on us like that. What if something horrible happened to her? What if-”

“-We can explore these possibilities back at Hogwarts.” Windu said, “If she is indeed missing, I will waste no time in coming back for her. I promise you.”

“That is already a waste of time!” Sabé protested, “What if she’s hurt?”

“I cannot risk all of you, including these prefects, for one possibly lingering student. I need to get you back to safety. The tunnels will be locked behind us.” Windu said and waved his wand to provide a gust of air, sending all of the girls down the tunnel against their own will. Satine looked horrified at the choice and frankly, so did Windu for a moment, before he began insisting the prefects follow.

For Obi-Wan, time began to slow down as his brain methodically and almost mechanically traced back through that day, desperately trying to recall if he’d seen Rabé. She stood out among Padmé’s friends in that she was the only Slytherin and yet it was still odd to see them apart. Before the alarm had turned the world on its head, it had been a rather mundane and peaceful day at Hogsmeade. The weather had been nice, if not quite nippy. He’d popped into Tomes & Scrolls with Satine while Cody lingered around Spintwitches, but none of them bought anything. If they had, surely, it would have been lost in the chaos with many other student’s purchases.

He’d debated getting a box of every flavor beans, since Hondo said he had a game of Russian Roulette, but with the beans, brewing. Cody seemed interested and it sounded like less of a consequential gaming experience than Hondo’s usual ventures. He wasn’t afforded the opportunity to go into Honeydukes, but…

Obi-Wan felt his heart stop altogether in his chest. He hadn’t gone into Honeydukes, but he almost did. And who was lingering by the butterbeer stand when he was busy deliberating with Cody?

Rabé.

He’d only caught a glimpse of her for a fraction of a second before he turned around. Clear as daylight and standing at the far end of Hogsmeade. There were other Slytherins around her, but like Padmé, her hair was always intricately woven and this made her stand out.

Where did she go so that none of her friends saw her?

“She was here today,” Obi-Wan lurched forward, grabbing Satine by the arm on instinct.

“How do you know?” She began to ask, eyes searching his own with growing concern.

“I saw her.” He said and then shoved against the stream of students that were still pouring down the tunnel.

“Ben,” It was her turn to grab him, “Wait!”

He didn’t wait, though. Instead, he slipped out of her grasp, which had been firm enough to take his robe with it, and pushed through the crowd. Windu, never the slouch, noticed him instantly and his eyes widened as he realized what Obi-Wan was trying to do. Unlike Padmé and the girls, he didn’t give him the opportunity to stop him, instead lunging forward and falling into an immediate sprint out the door- the cold wind whipping his face so hard that it caused tears to freeze in their wake.

He vaguely heard his name shouted from behind him, but he could only think of finding Rabé before it was too late. It might have been impulsive and it was definitely foolish, but he wouldn’t be able to leave with a clear conscience unless he did everything in his power to bring every student back safely. He understood that the professors needed to do their duty, but Obi-Wan was to be an auror someday. Running into the line of fire was surely a requirement of such a field.

All he could think of was how he knew what it was like to be forgotten. If there was even a small chance of preventing someone else from befalling that fate, he had to try.

Running across the slick stone walkway proved itself to be even more difficult than walking had, but Obi-Wan was utilizing the forward motion that the ice provided him for acceleration. The sky above him was almost completely black- as though Hogsmeade was at risk for being sucked into outer space. Suddenly, the cold that Obi-Wan felt no longer seemed to be as a result from the climate.

He’d studied dementors a good deal over the years and objectively understood how they drained a person from their hopes and dreams, removing the parts of them that basically made them human, but he realized then that he never really knew. He wasn’t even the target for these dementors and just being in their presence made him feel like all color was depleting from the landscape.

He forced himself through it, focusing on the task at hand and what purpose that gave him. He decided to slide by the (now closed) butterbeer stand at the end, where he’d last seen Rabé. After all, it was entirely possible that he was the last person to see her alive. That certainly didn’t give him much comfort.

He turned his head from side to side, trying with a last stitch effort to see if she’d taken refuge in one of the closed shops. The keepers were kind and would more than likely house a lost student during a crisis such as this.

As dread pooled deeper in the pit of his stomach and his body struggled to fight off the shaky chill that climbed its way up his spine, he dared to look up, noticing that the dementors were no longer searching, but swarming. The snowfall only seemed to thicken, which was rather unfortunate as Obi-Wan had to swipe his arm over his eyes several times to continue seeing.

They congregated at the Three Broomsticks- in front of which, Obi-Wan did not stop, but in his haste, did meet the bloodshot amber eyes of none other than the Dathomirian known as Maul. In their midst, Obi-Wan found he would rather embark on a lengthy stay with a dementor than look another second into the killer’s eyes. He was leaning back in his seat with casual aplomb and raised his stein of butterbeer as though in cheers or celebration, selling the chilling lack of regard for life with a cruel smile curling his black and red lips.

It was if he was saying, “I’ve won.”

Obi-Wan swallowed thickly and averted his gaze immediately, understanding that this might be his final moment. If that were so, he would use it wisely.

“No, you won’t.”

Maul’s smile broadened, resembling the actual devil as he did so.

Yes, Obi-Wan was definitely about to die.

However, the moment ended as quick as it started, for once the dementors dive bombed past Obi-Wan and straight for Maul, he flipped a galleon into the air and caught it, allowing himself to disappear to whatever rock he dragged himself from before.

Obi-Wan only thundered forward until he arrived at the end of the limits of the town, sighing deeply and wincing at the wreath of frost that circled his head as he caught his breath. He was immensely cold and with nothing to do about it and worse, began to feel quite defeated. Part of him wanted to rationalize that Rabé did likely go back to the castle. However, whether it was intuition or simply an unknown magic in the air, he could practically feel the presence of another.

Then, from the corner of his eyes, he noticed something poking out of the snow- just next to an old townhome, and drew closer. His steps were heavy and without hopeful anticipation as he regarded the gray fingers breaking through the massive snowdrift.

He knelt down slowly, and raised his wand to blow away the piles of snow and ice and used his hands to remove the last remnants on his own. Attached to the outstretched hand, which served as much as a warning as it did a signal of distress, was the petrified gray face of Rabé.

***

“You have to go back for him!” Satine demanded as she was practically carried by Fisto all the way back to Hogwarts. It had been the only way they were able to prevent her from slipping after Obi-Wan in a panic-induced gut-reaction. She believed he was an idiot for running off the way he did, but that wasn’t to say she didn’t understand the feeling.

“The dementors are mobilizing, Satine!” Windu turned on her with fire in his eyes, “Had Mr. Kenobi not been so uncharacteristically impetuous, we wouldn’t be here.”

“And there would still be a lost child out there!” She growled, not usually one to ever speak to a professor so brazenly, but this was Obi-Wan they were talking about, and she would always be a bit irrational when it came to him. “It doesn’t seem like anyone really cares about that though!”

“Not care? I would lay down my life for every single one of you. Do you think it pleases me to know that not one, but two students could be suffering at the hands of that animal on my watch?” Windu said hotly, “But I cannot jeopardize the dementors potentially catching a murderous sociopath. Obi-Wan would not want me to do that!”

She knew deep in her bones that he was right, but she didn’t take to it any better, instead feeling bile rise up her throat- only subdued by the way it seemed to constrict at the wretched thought of losing her best friend. The cold weight of pure dread settled on her chest, evaporating her fury and nearly suffocating all logical thought.

Nearly.

She turned on her heels back to Ravenclaw house, who were staring at her with a mixture of sympathy and shock. Satine knew she had the capacity to lose her patience, but she tried to always do so with some semblance of professionalism.

“We’ll go find him ourselves then!” Cody, equally as heated as she had been, raged alongside Echo and Fives. All were still dressed for the winter and had their wands at the ready.

“You will do no such thing.” Professor Fisto pulled Cody back by the arm, “Headmaster Yoda is the only one who can save your friend now.”

“What was the point of teaching us all that stuff if we aren’t going to use it?” Cody fired.

“In the event that there is an inescapable situation, Cody.” Fisto said, “I commend your bravery, but there is a line between courage and stupidity.”

“So, that’s it?” Echo chimed in, “We’re just going to run and hide every time a bad guy comes knocking on our door?”

“Yeah, you’re supposed to teach us defense against the dark arts!” Fives added, “I’d say Maul qualifies.”

“Maul is much more than any of you can understand or handle.” Windu’s voice no longer spoke with anger, but from a deep place that teetered on remorse and pity. There was a defeated look in his eyes that Satine would never forget, as though Maul had already won.

“Glad you’ve all been effectively wasting our time then.” Cody snarled, “Propping us up and making us feel as though we’re really doing something all year. What has all of this been? Some show for the Ministry?”

A few other Gryffindors pooled around him and it occurred to Satine just then that if Cody hadn’t been so set on pursuing Quidditch as a career, that he’d make a mighty fine commanding officer. People rallied behind him. They believed in him.

She just wished that call to order wasn’t coming from a place of wishing to fight a dark lord.

“Cody, I highly recommend that you stand down.” Fisto said, “I get that you’re upset, but we need to remain calm. Take your brothers back to the Great Hall and wait for further instructions.”

Cody was teeming with anger- she could tell just looking at him and for a moment, she feared he was going to act brashly. Windu seemed to think the same thing judging by the appraising look he gave him.

He didn’t move, but he did send Echo and Fives back with the Gryffindor prefects and the rest of the house. The other houses and their respective prefects trickled afterwards, each going to the Great Hall for what was surely to be another lockdown.

“Great, another sleepover.” Fives huffed as he went.

“Yeah, telling ghost stories by candlelight altogether will surely keep us safe.” Echo complained under his breath.

“I thought I said-” Fisto began.

“-I’m not leaving until Kenobi is found.” Cody said, “Dead or alive.”

“Don’t you dare talk like that.” She seethed, grabbing his attention instantly and Cody, to his credit, did appear riddled with guilt at her reaction.

“Sorry.” He muttered.

“I expect this level of irrationality from Cody.” Windu said and eyed Satine, “But not you.”

“I’m not leaving either.” She said, clutching Obi-Wan’s robe tightly between clenched fists, “Consequences be damned.”

Where she thought there would be retribution or even more yelling, there was not. Fisto, of the two of them, actually appeared more upset. Windu, instead, nodded slightly. It seemed he understood that this was a battle he would not be winning today.

Satine scanned the area, remembering someone very curious to be missing from the pack. As if it were possible, more horror gnawed at her nerves, “Where’s Anakin?”

That was Maul’s whole purpose for scouting out the school, right?

Windu grimaced, “He did try to sneak out to Hogsmeade earlier.”

Her eyes widened, “But he’s alright?”

“It is to my understanding that young Skywalker is with Professor Jinn.” Palpatine swerved around the corner, dark cloaks flowing behind him dramatically as he reconvened with the professors, “Any update on Maul?”

“No,” Windu said tartly, “But seeing as our students have been debating on staging a coup, it might have been useful to have your presence, Professor.”

The tension, as it was, seemed unbreakable.

“My apologies, Professor Windu, but I will say these students have the right to be upset. All of our efforts to protect the school have thus far failed.” Palpatine said.

Satine also couldn’t blame everyone for being upset. In their effort to make everyone feel safe, they only propped them up with delusions of grandeur. There was a fine line to walk between keeping the student body informed and propagating debilitating fear- at least in this predicament.

“You’re here now.” Fisto said, “That’s what counts.”

Satine wasn’t so sure, but then again, Maul hadn’t broken in yet.

“Surely, it’s not wise to have students so close to the entrance.” Palpatine said.

“Yes, well, it also wasn’t wise to allow Anakin so close to your Vitamix potion.” Windu countered, “I guess we’re all doing things a bit differently right now.”

Palpatine seemed properly slapped by that, because there was little argument that could be brought up to counter the comment. That was, indeed, what happened and it left the school wide open for possible attack.

“Yoda should be back any minute.” Fisto paced the floor, his wet boots making a squeaking noise as he did so, “And hopefully, he has good news.”

“If not?” Cody asked.

“If not, we might have to help him and if that’s the case, you two will stay back.” Windu ordered.

Even Cody didn’t argue with that logic.

Not but a moment later, erratic banging came from the metal door, growing more desperate as the seconds went on. Palpatine leaned forward as if to open it and Fisto grabbed his wrist before he could perform the charm.

“There’s a password.” Fisto said.

“And why would Maul just come knocking on the front door?” Palpatine scoffed.

“Maul is anything but conventional.” Windu reasoned.

Cody and Satine looked between each other as the three professors deliberated. They were beginning to understand why it sometimes felt like it took forever for anything to get done. No one could agree on the simplest things.

“What if it’s Ben?” Satine stepped forward, “You’ve said it yourself that the tunnels are blocked off now.”

“Yoda would have found him and brought him back by apparition.” Fisto said.

“And if he didn’t?”

Windu opened his mouth to respond, but then from a familiar voice, “HELLO THERE? IS ANYONE THERE?”

She glared between the three professors, who were all a bit dumbstruck as they hastily moved to open the door. As it swung open unceremoniously, her heart resumed beating as Obi-Wan Kenobi, pale, drenched and speckled with snowflakes, practically fell through the entryway.

She moved on instinct rather than thought and caught him in a tight hug, combatting the sharp chill that traveled up her spine at his frigid body with the warm relief that he was alive. She only removed herself enough to tightly wrap his robe around his shoulders before pulling him closer.

“Get him some blankets!” Windu ordered while Palpatine was simultaneously brewing a warm beverage from thin air. Satine, for her part, could not let go.

“N-nice t-to see you t-too.” He shivered and did not reject the warm contact.

“You’re an idiot, Obi-Wan Kenobi.” She muttered into his shoulder, but it really didn’t have as much fire as she would have liked it to- not when he looked so pitiful with wet hair in his face, teeth chattering, and a nose and cheeks red from the cold.

“I’m aware.” He said.

“You could have been killed!”

“I know.”

“And you really couldn’t have at least brought your robe with you if you were going to go running off on a deadly mission?”

“You’re right.”

“Stop agreeing with me!” She leaned back and glared at him.

“My apologies,” He smiled ruefully, but it faded almost instantly, “All the trouble I’ve caused, I’m afraid it was for nothing.”

“What do you mean?” Fisto cut in.

“I saw him.” Obi-Wan’s voice was hollow when he said it. His eyes became downcast as he reminisced, “And Rabé. I couldn’t move her on my own… She was frozen in carbonite.”

Windu cursed, scrubbing a hand over his bald head, “And Maul?”

“Gone.” Obi-Wan said, “He used a portkey before the dementors could get to him.”

***

The dementors separated like parting clouds, allowing for remnants of dwindling sunlight to cast a yellow beam onto Hogsmeade. Even with the sunset behind it, the usually buzzing and quaint town looked barren without the lively folk that inhabited it. It was to their best interest to hide, of course, and he knew that once this awful storm passed, they would return again. Yoda moved slowly through the snow, feet unbothered by the crunch of the ice beneath him.

He had no doubt that Maul was here, but held equal assurance that he no longer was. His protective charms were supposed to stop people from getting in, not out.

He grimaced as he knelt to the Slytherin girl’s motionless body- frozen in time with a horrific expression painting her features. She would need to join the growing group that took up beds in Madame Nema’s hospital wing. He just hoped with everything in him that they could make this right.

It tugged at his heart that children always seemed to be the ones to suffer for the choices of adults. This one was not excluded as Yoda and the other professors deemed that it would be safe.

It should have been safe.

He cursed as he thought back to the extensive lengths he’d gone to in protecting the school. He was exhausted, constantly firing off on all cylinders to keep this place safe. Even Hogsmeade hadn’t been exempt from his reach.

Well it had, but it seemed the small window of Maul’s murder in Diagon Alley to Yoda waking up from the botched Vitamix potion was the hole he’d crawled through. The dementors hadn’t detected him, which was a whole other concern that he would need to investigate at a later time.

There were so many ways that they failed.

Yes, well, this girl’s parents will not enjoy a meager response like that, so he ought to think of something better. Either way, he would not be sleeping well for his hubris. Maul might not storm the castle with his being there, but he was not above dancing around it. He was boxed out for now, but there was only so much that could be done. He had managed to convince them to disallow apparition for the time being without Ministry approval. This combined with the monitorization of the Floo network, limited Maul significantly.

However, there were always portkeys, which was the most secure way for a person in hiding to quickly transport. You didn’t need a license for it and you didn’t even leave a trace on your wand in the process.

It seemed Maul was getting significant joy from toying with them by instilling fear. It was just like a dark wizard to play on people’s emotions as such.

And yet…

He looked back down at the girl with a different sort of befuddlement. Not that he was complaining, but why hadn’t he killed her? Was it because it would have drawn too much attention for his liking? That didn’t seem right, though, because he had no problem murdering the guards at Azkaban or that store owner on Diagon Alley. Why utilize this mysterious alternative method now?

It hadn’t been the first time, obviously. There was the first official occurrence in December, not to mention the carbon remnants found in Shmi Skywalker’s flat, and Obi-Wan and Satine’s discovery at the Shrieking Shack.

Maul had certainly developed a predilection for the long con in his time locked away in Azkaban. Yoda would say it was out of character if he didn’t understand how much a man could change from trauma. He’d seen it in his own face and he’d seen it in many other’s. Maul didn’t want to mess up this time. He wanted his target and he wanted it done right.

But why Anakin Skywalker? Surely, Maul didn’t buy into the Chosen One prophecy. And if he did, why the sudden malevolence towards the boy? Nothing from the ancient texts seemed to make any reference to Maul in the slightest. It wouldn’t have affected him in Azkaban.

Would it?

As Yoda waved his wand once to lift the casket of carbon from the ground to float aimlessly behind him, he turned back towards the castle, realizing not for the first time that the more he learned, the more he had to ask.

***

“We were worried you became a popsicle out there,” Cody said as he took off his own robe and coat to also wrap around Obi-Wan. They all sat in the Great Hall with the rest of the student body, each positioned on their own sleeping bag as they faced each other. Despite having been inside for over an hour, Obi-Wan still clutched the blankets that were given to him tightly and didn’t reject Cody’s addition to the pile.

“I’m sure he was more concerned about seeing Maul.” Satine said.

“I’m sure he was.” Ventress sauntered by with her trademark smirk painted on her black-stained lips.

“Come off it, Ventress,” Cody scowled, “Kenobi wouldn’t lie about such a thing. Dementors were there too.”

“They’ve been here the entire time, Fett.” Ventress said, “How many false scares have there been? I’m beginning to believe it’s all conspiracy, myself.”

“It’s that level of thinking that’s going to get someone seriously injured.” Satine said, “Or worse.”

“Maybe then someone will start to take legitimate action,” She sighed almost dreamily, like she was fantasizing about the possibility.

“And I suppose Rabé basically turning to stone was just nothing.” Cody barked.

“A pity, truly.” She inspected her fingernails, which were actually quite noticeably jagged and cracked with chipped black polish, “Have we not noticed that every victim has been pureblood? You don’t hear the Ministry talking about that, of course.”

“What are you getting at?” Satine growled.

“I’m just saying, Duchess,” Ventress displayed her best pout, which coming from her, still had all the appearances of a cat ready to pounce, “I would hate to see a group marginalized by their blood type.”

“Listen here, Ventress-” She clutched his sleeping bag tightly and was surely ready to fire off on a meaningful tangent of her own, but was interrupted by the sound of barreling footsteps coming their way.

Anakin and Rex came sprinting down the aisle and slid onto their knees towards where they sat. Anakin, for his part, skidded right into Obi-Wan and nearly knocked him over by the velocity at which he traveled.

“Where have you two been?” Cody asked.

“We were with Qui-Gon!” Anakin said and looked around to Obi-Wan, “Fives just told us about what happened at Hogsmeade and I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Obi-Wan’s heart melted at the thought of Anakin’s concern and ruffled his hair, “Not a scratch on me.”

Anakin nodded in relief, “That’s good. It’s crazy that we both saw Maul today and he didn’t even do anything to either of us!”

Obi-Wan, Satine, Cody, and the briefly forgotten Ventress all snapped their attention towards Anakin in surprise.

“I’m sorry, what?” Satine was the first to speak.

“When and where did you see Maul?” Cody followed shortly behind.

“And you lived?” It was unclear whether Ventress was surprised or disappointed.

Obi-Wan, in all fairness, was still processing the small twelve year old boy, who presumably alone, faced the bloodthirsty killer that had it out for him. He knew he must have looked horrified, because Anakin’s own worry seemed to grow by just looking at Obi-Wan.

“I’m okay!” He said first, knowing that this was the most important thing, “And for the record, it wasn’t my fault.”

“It was a little your fault.” Rex winced.

“Rex! You’re supposed to be on my side!” Anakin whined.

“What did you do?” Obi-Wan pinched his brow.

“I already told Qui-Gon and he promised me immunity and while I don’t know for sure what that means, I’m pretty sure it means you’re not allowed to get mad.”

“That’s not what it means.” He said.

“Well, then, who’s got a decent ghost story to share?” He tried, looking around to each of them, “Ventress? I’m sure you’ve got some just by looking in a mirror every day.”

“Anakin…”

“Fine…” He sighed, “I… Might have sort of tried to go give Padmé her Valentine.”

“Of all the foolish and impulsive things to do!” Obi-Wan roared instantly.

“You said you wouldn’t get mad!”

“No I did not!” He snapped, “Do you not realize how incredibly dangerous that was? And the kind of risk you were putting yourself at? What would have happened if he had gotten you? I swear, I know you’re young but you need to think in terms of the long-”

“-Mate, not sure you are in the best position to be giving that lecture today.” Cody said, “Seeing as you also ran right into Maul’s clutches.”

“Yeah, really!” Anakin defended, “I heard all about what you did!”

“To save someone!” Obi-Wan rounded on his friend, “Not to retrieve a pretty trinket for a girl I fancy!”

“Based on your taste that’s a good thing.” Ventress scoffed.

Satine, who was admittedly calmer than Obi-Wan, frowned and looked at Anakin, “What happened?”

“If I’m allowed to continue.” He said pointedly before going on, “I wasn’t actually going to go to Hogsmeade. Believe it or not, I’m not completely stupid.”

“You just said-” Obi-Wan’s voice cracked.

“-Ben, let him finish.” Satine admonished.

“Thank you,” Anakin nodded and the kid really had the nerve to look smug, “I wasn’t going to Hogsmeade, but Rabé was and believe it or not, I get nervous too sometimes. I wasn’t sure I would have the nerve to give it to her in person, so I was going to ask Rabé if she could give it to Padmé for me. So, I used the map to follow her, obviously, and was never going to leave the tunnel system. But then about halfway through, I saw him.”

“Maul?” Cody asked in awe.

“No, the boogeyman. Yes, Maul.” Rex rolled his eyes.

“Seems like the same thing to me,” Ventress yawned, clearly unimpressed, “Seeing as Maul can’t be in two places at once, I would say one of you is lying.”

“I’m not lying!” Anakin asserted and looked to Obi-Wan, “And he’s not either.”

“Rabé didn’t just turn to carbonite on her own.” Obi-Wan said.

Anakin’s eyes widened, “He got Rabé too?”

“What do you mean too?” Satine asked.

“I mean, Tiplee was also frozen in carbonite down in the tunnels. I only managed to get away because I must have caught him off guard. I ran as fast as I could.” He patted his pockets, “Dang! I think I dropped the map in the process. Again.”

“Seriously, no more of those for you.” Satine said.

“Not like it’ll be of much use now that Yoda is closing the tunnels again.” Cody said.

“That’s horrible.” Obi-Wan frowned and stroked his chin thoughtfully, “But I wonder why he wouldn’t have come into the school.”

“He’s afraid of Yoda.” Ventress scowled, “Everyone knows that, but clearly, he’s a fool to be leaving all of these little clues around.”

“There’s got to be a bigger plan at play here.” Satine said.

“Like what? Two Maul’s?” Ventress rolled her eyes, “I could see the creep going after Skywalker as that is clearly his primary intent, but Kenobi? Who would bother to go after someone who cowered at his own shadow at one point?”

The particular incident that Ventress was alluding to happened when they were only five years old, he might add, but even in his head it didn’t pack the same impact that she wanted it to. Instead, Obi-Wan flashed her a disapproving look.

“Rabé is a member of your house.” He pointed out, “I didn’t see you running back to save her.”

“Actually, I didn’t see you at all.” Satine added.

Ventress, nonplussed, rolled her eyes dramatically, “Good to know the two of you are still conjuring nonsense that would rival The Quibbler, but if you must know, I was tutoring in the library.”

“Wait a second,” Obi-Wan allowed some of the blanket to slide off of him when he sat up straighter, trying his best to suppress a shiver that immediately followed. He was grateful that Satine set it back into place, “Don’t tell me you’re Hondo’s tutor.”

Ventress furrowed her brow, “Be wary of the tone, Kenobi. My marks often rival your own.”

She wasn’t wrong. Horrible personality aside, Ventress was an exemplary student. Like him, she sort of had to be, given the reputation their respective families upheld.

“I wasn’t underestimating your intelligence,” He said, because he wasn’t a total fool, “But I never took you for a good samaritan.”

“Surely, he’s paying her.” Satine groaned as she leaned back on her hands.

“I don’t need the money, muggle-born.” She hissed.

“Since when has galleons been his only form of currency?” Satine shrugged, “Everyone has a price, is all I’m saying.”

“Fools,” Ventress shook her head as she walked away, “All of you.”

“Yeah, well, when you turn to stone, it’ll match your heart.” Anakin said and stood up, “I’m going to go apologize to Padmé.”

Obi-Wan watched him sadly as he walked over to where the crestfallen group of usually chipper girls huddled together. At least they were able to comfort each other in this trying time. Obi-Wan looked to Cody and Satine, who were both wearing a considerable amount of concern on their features.

He knew their responsibilities as older students and prefects, alike, were only going to rise as the fear and sense of danger increased. Anakin had nearly come to his end if he hadn’t been so quick on his feet. He supposed those dueling classes did have their uses if implemented properly. As it were, Maul would likely not make the same mistake twice.

***

The atmosphere was much more subdued than most Quidditch mornings. Even Cody found himself sitting quietly across from where Obi-Wan was falling asleep over a plate of pancakes. Ventress was the only one not subdued, she was glaring around at her team, snarling at anyone not paying attention to her. He didn’t think she’d get very far with an attitude like that. As captain, sometimes the best thing you could do was read the mood of your teammates.

Obi-Wan’s head dropped forwards almost landing in the syrup before Satine managed to pull him back without even a glance over. He blinked, looking around like he hadn’t even been aware they were in the Great Hall in the first place.

“Might want to eat something, mate,” Cody suggested, gesturing to his plate that he seemed surprised was loaded even if he had done it himself.

“Right,” He did so without another word. Satine looked fairly volatile this morning, having woken up extremely early for a morning patrol so there wasn’t much conversation for them to be had. He was tired too, having been picking up a few patrols of his own. Palpatine’s accidental sleeping potion may have been an unfortunate idea, but a few extra hands that could take on prefect duties were still welcomed. It’s not like Cody could say no after watching his friends be run ragged.

“You sure you’re going to be awake enough to stay on a broom?” Cody asked as they both watched a piece of pancake fall slowly off his fork. Obi-Wan just nodded looking up with a sigh.

“We’re all tired,” He nodded towards where Koth had passed out at the breakfast table. Aayla and Cin were awake enough to doodle on his face so it maybe wasn’t the entire team, “Hopefully this will make for a short game.”

“Hopefully,” He nodded, but he wasn’t sure he was honest in his statement. Ventress was looking especially poisonous this morning and wouldn’t take anything sitting down, “Maybe we shouldn’t be playing anyways.”

Obi-Wan and Satine both looked at him like he’d just grown a second head and he met their looks with a glare.

“Who are you and what have you done with Cody?” Kenobi squinted at him as if checking to make sure he hadn’t been cursed.

“I think hell must have frozen over,” Satine added with a nod, “I never thought I’d hear Cody Fett, not want anything to do with Quidditch.”

“Hey! Woah!” He shook his head quickly, “I never said that.”

They both raised an eyebrow at him and he rolled his eyes.

“Even I am not enough of a sports fan to look past the elephant in the room,” He jabbed his fork at them, “Maul’s close and we’re just going to take the whole school outside? Again? Plus, morale is down,” Instead of gesturing to the two obvious examples in front of him, he pointed to Koth, who had just woken up and hadn’t figured out why everyone was laughing at him yet.

“When you put it that way...” Obi-Wan flicked his eyes to the professors, who were desperately trying to keep warm inviting facades. He took a sip of pumpkin juice.

“Why go through all this trouble for such a barbaric game anyways,” Satine glowered, “We need a break from potential violence not more.”

Cody knew explaining the dynamics of Quidditch would not change her mind any so he kept his own thoughts to himself on the matter. He thought of Quidditch as a much needed break most of the time. But it was hard to deny the fact that only a few people would be having a good time today and that wasn’t how he felt a healthy Quidditch environment should be.

The screech of an owl alerted everyone to the arrival of the morning mail. It was always a little hectic, but it didn’t stop them from being able to spot one of their three owls if it chose to show up. The only owl Cody could recognize was a large tawny one. Well manicured and, if memory served, sharp talons. Obi-Wan barely avoided getting his letter dropped on his head, his hand flicked up to catch the falling parchment with deft precision. As most letters from his parents, he was careful to shield it so Satine couldn’t see, something that always had her frustrated despite knowing that it was fair given the nature of these letters.

Obi-Wan read the whole thing in lightning speed, eyebrows furrowing the further he got, although he nodded before swiftly depositing it on the table next to his plate. His owl swooped down again landing on his head causing him to wince.

“Alright message received,” He tried to pick up the pesky owl, but it looked rather indignant to be manhandled. Still because he was gentle and fed him a bit of breakfast, the owl allowed itself to be set on his arm, “Tell them they’re early,” He tried saying it quietly enough so neither of them would hear, unfortunately they were both rather intune to his voice. If an owl could show emotions, which Cody had, up until this moment thought untrue, Obi-Wan’s owl would look almost melancholic for a moment. A hard thing to do for a bird that had permanent angry eyebrows colored into its feathers.

It took off in a hurry, nearly taking off a few heads as it went and disappeared back into the flock it had arrived with.

“What did they say?” Satine asked, as she usually did, but he just shrugged.

“Nothing out of the ordinary,” He gave her a smile, but she frowned.

“That never makes me feel better,” She told him sternly. He just shrugged.

There was a loud pop and they all looked up to see Palpatine and Qui-Gon standing at the head of the Great Hall, the two of them would be escorting both teams outside and to the pitch. It was best to have an experienced teacher at the helm and who better than those who had earned their titles as Heads of House.

Obi-Wan stood swiftly, accepting their well wishes and good lucks, before falling into line behind Eeth. Satine was watching them leave with narrowed eyes and Cody wasn’t sure what was going on, but she certainly looked much more focused than earlier. She slid her hand across the table, snatching the note from where he’d left it, clearly for the trash pile, and spread it open.

“Should you do that?” He asked even if he was curious himself, he wasn’t about to get accused of reading other people’s mail.

“It’s a suspicious piece of parchment I found unattended,” She lied as she peered down at it. Her nose scrunched up in disgust as she read it just loud enough for him to hear.

“Obi-Wan Kenobi,

As you are about to turn 17, we remind you once again of your duties and expectations. In one year you will turn 18 and we’ll discuss then your future. Despite your best attempts to undermine our plans we will do what we can to work around your failure.

Don’t expect a gift this year, you received one last year and we’ll be happy to give you one when you turn 20. Consider continuing to go to school despite your constant disappointments gift enough.

-Mother”

Cody felt the grip on his fork tighten as he stared a hole through the paper. A correspondence with Obi-Wan’s family really was never pleasant, but did they have to be so outwardly despicable? What surprised him most was the excitement lighting up Satine’s eyes as she read the letter over again.

“Brilliant!” She grinned and he practically snapped his fork in half.

“What’s so brilliant about those two bastards continuing to tighten the noose around his neck?” Cody growled and Satine looked up, having the decency to look aghast.

“Oh heavens no,” She looked sick at the thought, “That’s not what I was referring to at all. How could you think-?”

“-How could I not? Maybe hell is freezing over,” He ran a hand down his face as she rummaged around in her bag before shoving plates and goblets out of the way, nearly toppling a few over. She set down a massive book-like object with a white exterior and silver rings. It was full to the brim with pages and she opened it up excitedly.

“It’s a binder,” She told him at his look before moving on to what must have been the important thing at hand, “You know how Ben’s rather dodgy about his birthday?” Cody nodded, “Well I’ve been tracking him ever since 2nd year,” She flipped around in the binder and Cody could see so many color-coded graphs it made his head spin.

“You did this? For what?”

“If he won’t tell us, I’ll find out on my own,” She glared sternly at a picture of Ben that blinked up at her from the page, “That’s what I told him,” She flipped through it, pointing at various sections, “I was able to surmise that his parents tend to have a letter pattern. They only send him mail on major holidays or if he’s done something they disapprove of.”

“When is that not the case,” He muttered.

“I was able to narrow it down after a few years to February or March,” She was in the back of the book now where a calendar full of crossed out dates sat, “It was confusing, sometimes they sent him a letter end of February like this one,” She waved the letter at him, “Sometimes it was in March. This is the first time I’ve been able to read one,” She grinned proudly tucking the letter into the back pocket for evidence purposes.

“What good does that do? They didn’t say what day it was,” Cody studied the calendar in interest.

“It does a lot of good!” She pulled a fancy highlighter from her bag, “He said they were early, meaning it can’t be any of these dates,” She ran her finger through most of the month. They only had a few days left until March though, maybe she’d figured out the month, “Most importantly!” She looked at him face as serious as it was when she was taking her OWLs, “They said they got him a gift last year-”

“Yeah a ruddy gift,” Cody frowned, “What good is an antique quill if it doesn’t even work?”

“I agree,” She said impatiently, “That’s not the point. They said they’d get him another one when he turned 20. He turned 16 last year-”

“Your point?” Cody was beginning to get lost and would rather she hurry up her point than leave him thinking.

“He doesn’t have a birthday this year at all!” She announced and Cody straightened, staring at her in shock.

“Well that’s not possible!” He declared, “Everyone has a birthday once a year! Even those who don’t care much like Kenobi.”

“It is possible!” She grinned proudly drawing a line on her calendar right between the 28th of February and the 1st of March, “He was born on February 29th! A leap year!”

Cody blinked. That actually made a lot of sense. Kenobi wasn’t a liar and he was sure he’d asked about specific days and been told he was wrong. He’d only seen Kenobi get a birthday present their first year (a pack of gobstones) and their fifth year (the aforementioned broken antique quill). Cody had just figured they wouldn’t ever figure it out unless he told them himself, so he usually just tried to get him a good Christmas present every year. He had noticed Satine had started to give him a present around this time of year, but now they had the exact day.

“Does this mean his parents use that as an excuse to never get him anything?” He frowned and Satine angered instantly.

“I’m almost shocked they haven’t forgotten the date themselves.”

“So,” Cody looked at the little highlighted line indicating the fruition of 5 years of work, “What are we doing about it?”

***

“I still say we should have gone with March 1st,” Cody said from where he was balanced rather precariously on a ladder taping the end of a streamer, “Then we’d be celebrating him having turned 17.”

Satine, who was holding onto the ladder to make sure she didn’t have to take anyone to the hospital wing today, glared up at him, “Absolutely not! He has a February birthday, we’re celebrating it in February. Otherwise he’s going to assume we’ve forgotten it!”

“He doesn’t even know we know it,” Cody rationalized, but came down from the ladder anyways to admire his work with her.

“Alright,” She looked down reading her list. She’d had years to plan this event, he’d never had a party before that she knew of and she wanted it to be perfect, “We’ve got the streamers and the balloons. The guests have been told what time to arrive...” She checked off the boxes as she went, “Can I trust you to go and get the cake without dropping it?” She looked up at her friend and he grinned giving her a thumbs up.

“Oh yeah definitely,” It didn’t instill in her a lot of hope, but he was at least eager to do it.

“Alright go, but hurry!” She checked the time off the clock in the corner. “They’ll be here soon.”

“On it!” He saluted her and raced out the door.

Satine observed her surroundings once more. They’d chosen an empty classroom rather than something elaborate like the Great Hall or too intimate like Qui-Gon’s office. She’d gotten approval, Qui-Gon was to arrive any minute now to supervise. He’d been the only professor she could think of that would understand how important this was to do. She was sure if she’d talked to Windu or even Headmaster Yoda, she’d have gotten shot down before she even began. Qui-Gon knew about Ben’s family though and like her, seemed to want to give him the best experience he could.

There was a spot for the cake on the teacher’s desk as well as plates, utensils, and napkins. The ceiling was practically drowning in streamers of all different colors and balloons were floating around aimlessly. Her and Cody’s presents to him were sitting in a neat pile on a couple of tables pushed together. She hoped he’d get a few more, but hadn’t explicitly said anything on the invitations. It was rather short notice after all.

“You’ve done a wonderful job,” She turned to see Qui-Gon in the doorway. He was holding a colorfully wrapped package which she gratefully took from him placing it on the table next to the other.

“Do you think it’s too much?” The last thing she wanted to do was overwhelm him, but she’d learned over the years it was hard to figure out what would.

“I’m sure we could all do with a little cheeriness,” He said in lieu of answering. Maybe he didn’t know any better than she did.

It didn’t take much more time before the students she’d invited began to arrive. The entirety of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team poured in along with Stass. They’d been a little downtrodden at being beat so terribly by Slytherin, but seemed happy enough to be there. The clones were the next to arrive with Anakin in tow. Anakin proudly added his gift to the stack before going back over to Rex.

Cody arrived again, loudly kicking in the door gingerly holding the cake. It hadn’t gotten squashed which she was thankful for. Behind him was Breha and Bail, both levitating trays of food and a bowl of punch, letting them settle into place on a row of desks.

More prefects appeared as well as a few other students. Hondo had seemed rather pleased to have been invited, but Satine was a little worried about what he had possibly brought as a present. Soon the room was pretty full and Satine shushed everyone as well as she could without shouting.

“Alright I’m going to get Ben,” She announced, “Be ready.”

“Yes ma’am!” The Fett’s all saluted her and the others in the room nodded keeping their chatter to a minimum.

***

Obi-Wan was growing a little concerned. Satine had been the one to ask him to meet her in the library, but she had yet to appear. He’d kept himself occupied with his textbooks, but he was tempted to go out and look for her. It was no sooner than he closed his textbook and stood that she rounded the corner looking rather flustered.

“Sorry I’m late,” She panted as she flipped her hair back and out of her face. It was down today, which was becoming a bit of a rarity and he smiled.

“It’s no trouble,” He said sitting back down, “Was there something in particular you wanted to work on? I’ve already finished my essays, but I can help you with yours.”

“Actually,” She was fidgeting nervously and he gazed up at her in concern, “I was hoping you wouldn’t mind if we went on a walk first.”

“A walk?” That was an unusual request.

“Yes I- I just think it would be nice, don’t you?” Well, he was hard pressed to deny her anything. Especially something as simple as a walk around the castle.

“Alright,” He agreed, sliding his text book back into his bag. She was scrutinizing him and he looked down to make sure his clothes were straightened, because the last time he’d gotten that look his fly had been undone. Rather embarrassing.

He looked up again, starting in surprise, when he felt a hand in his hair. She gave him an apologetic look as she stepped back.

“Sorry, your hair was messed up,” She told him and he felt his face warm slightly, but she just coughed awkwardly and started walking. He ran to catch up.

He couldn’t help, but to run his own hands through his hair, just to ensure that it wasn’t still a mess, “It’s fine Ben,” She told him as she walked just far enough ahead to force him to follow her path.

“I didn’t think you minded much if it was messy,” He said instead of removing his hands.

“I don’t, I just-” Satine cut herself off with a shake of her head. Obi-Wan was confused, but let his hands finally drop to his sides.

“Well alright?” He wasn’t sure what else to say. She was acting off and he couldn’t pinpoint it. Maybe she was upset? But she didn’t look it. Even if she was, the library was perfectly quiet that evening. His heart beat a little faster in his chest as he remembered another time the two of them had been alone, the Christmas party. Did she- were they going to talk about it? He wasn’t sure he knew what to say about such things.

“Ben?” He looked up at his name and she was frowning at him, “Are you alright? You look pale.”

“I’m completely fine,” He confirmed, “Are you?”

“Yes?” Maybe they were both acting a little off this evening.

“Good,” He smiled at her and she returned it easily.

She turned then and walked towards the door of an empty classroom, disappearing inside. What on earth could she want with him in an empty classroom?

He refused to lose her though and quickened his pace until he was pulling the door open only to be assaulted by many loud cheers. It took him a moment to register what they were saying in the first place.

“Happy Birthday!”

His birthday? He blinked, taking in the scene. Many of his close friends were there, his Quidditch team, Anakin, Qui-Gon. All of them were standing there watching him which made him more than a little nervous. The ceiling was decorated in nearly every color of the rainbow and it was complete with balloons. He gripped the strap of his bag, unsure what was expected of him. He certainly had never had a party for himself before.

“Happy Birthday, mate!” Cody appeared in front of him practically dragging him into the room and pushing him towards the professor’s desk. It broke the tension in the room and chatter resumed much to his relief. There were less eyes on him.

“Uhm, thank you,” He managed a smile.

“Look at your cake! We had it made special.”

He looked down in surprise at a white cake decorated with 17 silver candles. Written in delicate blue icing was, “Happy Birthday Obi-Wan!” He’d never had his own birthday cake before, but he’d seen them when Satine or Cody had celebrated theirs. It was kind of them to think of him, he just wished he knew the proper way to respond. The parties he attended usually had scripts to follow and he had never been instructed for one like this.

“It’s chocolate,” Satine’s hand landed right next to his on the desk and he looked up catching her eyes, “I know it’s your favorite.”

“It is,” he agreed almost solemnly.

“Do you like it?” She asked and he nodded quickly, his face heating up, how rude that he hadn’t immediately offered them a thank you.

“Yes of course! I- Thank you,” He told them both seriously, “I’m sorry, I’m just not at all sure how I’m supposed to react.” Satine’s eyes flashed sadly at him for a moment before it was gone and she smiled at him softly, bumping her fingers into his.

“You can react however you’d like,” She assured him, “Yell at me that you hate it for all I care,” He took a step back and nearly tripped over Cody at the insinuation.

“Absolutely not, I’ll treasure it!” He vowed with a stern expression and she laughed a little, it was a sound he quite liked.

“Don’t treasure it too long,” Cody warned him, “Because after we sing to you we’re all going to eat it.”

“Sing?”

Neither of them answered, but he found himself pushed into the professor’s chair and everyone seemed to gather all around him. He felt his face get warm and he hoped it wasn’t too noticeable. Both Cody and Satine were lighting the candles on the cake and right when they were done a rather off-key rendition of “Happy Birthday” was sung and shouted at him. There wasn’t much for him to do except sit there and try to look less uncomfortable. When Fives and Echo finally finished drawing out the last “you” Satine told him to make a wish and gestured for him to blow out the candles. It took him two attempts and he wondered if he looked as foolish as he felt.

Soon, however, everyone was preoccupied with their slices of cake and mingling with one another. Obi-Wan had to admit despite his embarrassment of having so many eyes on him, the cake was rather good. It was certainly his favorite kind from the Great Hall and he was quietly delighted when Satine offered him another piece.

“You know today’s not my birthday,” He told Satine as she sat down next to him cutting into her own slice.

“I know,” She smirked, “I know that your birthday isn’t today or tomorrow, but is actually February 29th. Despite what anyone else may say about this though, is that it’s still worth celebrating even if the day won’t appear again for a few more years.”

He blinked at her, shocked. He knew she’d been interested in figuring out his birthday, but he had assumed she’d dropped it by now, “How did you find out?”

“Years of observation,” It wasn’t a helpful answer, but he had to admire her intelligence in getting this far, “So am I right?” She leaned in close to him, her eyes searching his for the answer.

“Yes,” He answered quietly.

“Kenobi!” Hondo nearly knocked him into his cake when he slapped him on the back, “Why have you not shared your birthday with me before! Hondo gives fabulous presents that one would not wish for in their wildest dreams!”

“Ah thank you Hondo,” He peeled Hondo’s arm off his shoulders. He was fairly sure Hondo was correct in his assumption that he definitely wouldn’t have wished for whatever lurked in Hondo’s present in any of his dreams.

“You’re welcome, my friend! Only the best for one of my closest associates,” He winked at him before waltzing away back into the crowd. Obi-Wan watched him go as Satine stifled her laughter.

“I assumed you’d want to open your presents later?” She asked.

“I have presents?” He looked around the room until he spotted them and blanched. There had to be at least 10 sitting there in a pile just for him, “I can’t accept that,” He looked at her with wide eyes and she narrowed her eyes.

“It would be ruder for you to reject them,” He looked between her and the presents. A catch 22.

“I’m not opening Hondo’s in front of anyone,” He decided and she laughed again.

Suddenly there was a loud crash and they both looked up to see Anakin sprawled out on the floor. Obi-Wan’s heart flew into his throat thinking of a similar event at the last party he’d gone to at this school. Before he could run over there though, Anakin was sitting up with a dopey smile on his face. He giggled.

Obi-Wan let out a sigh of relief, but something still didn’t seem right. Anakin had Qui-Gon’s help to stand up, but he wobbled. He looked a little bit like he was drunk, but he doubted Satine or Cody would spike the punch at his birthday party. Cody seemed to have a similar guess because he took a sip of his own punch and frowned.

“Don’t you think,” Anakin giggled so hard he almost fell down again, “Don’t you think that Miraj Scintel is the most beautiful girl you’ve ever met?”

The room went silent.

“She’s really beautiful,” He said again giggling wildly. He tripped and Qui-Gon just barely managed to catch him.

Half the room broke out into laughter, it was a ridiculous sight, but Obi-Wan was more worried about what the cause of this was. Qui-Gon was too and immediately slapped a cookie out of Hondo’s hand.

“Someone’s snuck a love potion in,” Satine said standing up, looking particularly mad.

“Miraj Scintel by the sound of it,” Cin Drallig raised an eyebrow as they all quietly set their food down.

“Must have been after you Kenobi,” Fives pointed out, “After all this is technically your party.”

“Me?” He barely talked to the girl and found her quite detestable, they were as different as they came.

“It’s possible any of you were the target,” Qui-Gon frowned as he picked up Anakin to keep him from getting anywhere.

“Hey put me down! I need to go tell Miraj Scintel that I love her!” Anakin cried, “Rex, do you think she’ll like me back.”

Rex was looking at Anakin as if he were contagious, but he just gave him an awkward nod and a, “Sure mate.”

“I’ll take him to Madam Nema,” He told everyone and gave a steady gaze at Obi-Wan, “He’ll be fine. In the meantime I’m sorry, but it looks like we’ll have to cut this party short.”

Before long the room had thinned out leaving just Obi-Wan, Satine, Cody, and a mess to clean up.

“You don’t have to help, Ben,” Satine said with a sigh as she pulled out her wand, “It’s your birthday after all.”

“And leave you to do all the work? I don’t think so,” He stood beside her as they both pulled the streamers off the ceiling with their wands. Cody made short work of sending all their food back down to the kitchens. The three of them moved the desks back to where they were meant to before collapsing together at a section of desks in the center of the room.

“Who knew a party would be so much work?” Cody complained as he picked a bit of streamer out of his hair.

“I did,” Obi-Wan answered quietly, “I really appreciate the thought, but I’m not sure I like having all the attention on me.”

“The point of a birthday party is just to be around those that love you,” She told him, “Yeah it’s a little embarrassing being sung too or opening presents, but there are some things in life you just have to accept.”

“I’m not sure,” He would really rather not make such a big fuss about something as mundane as the day he was born. Satine gave him a rather scathing look for a moment before sighing deeply and reaching into her bag.

“Do you remember when I was late coming back to school?” She asked them.

“Only every day,” He complained and Cody just nodded. She sized them both up before pulling out her wallet and, as if it was physically painful for her she pulled out a thin white card.

“I was late because I was getting my driver’s license,” She set the card down in front of them, revealing Satine in rather bad lighting. On the right was a list of identifying information and quite interested, Obi-Wan picked it up to look at it.

Cody immediately had broken into a fit of laughter, catching the end of Satine’s fiery glare, “It looks like a mug shot!”

“That’s why I wasn’t too interested in telling anyone!” She snatched the card out of his hands and Obi-Wan just blinked looking over at her.

“What’s wrong with it? You look lovely,” That comment just made Cody laugh harder and earned him Satine’s glare as well.

“It’s a bloody terrible photo!” She shouted shoving the thing far back in her wallet and stashing it back where it belonged, “The point is,” She emphasized, “Sometimes you have to suffer through some embarrassment in life, I doubt having a birthday party is as terrible as having that as an identifying picture.”

“I don’t see what’s so bad about it,” He looked between Cody and Satine. It showcased her hair and although she wasn’t smiling, in it he could see the softness in her eyes.

“You are unbelievable, Obi-Wan Kenobi!” Satine’s face had gone red, “I show you the worst picture of me forced to exist and you still think being sung too is worse?”

“Let’s open presents!” Cody changed the subject quickly, shoving a shoddily wrapped gift into his hands and trying to whisper, “Come on mate, open it! She already has a mugshot, what’s going to stop her from murdering us.”

“Cody!”

#anakin skywalker #obi-wan kenobi #obitine #anidala #the clone wars #star wars #hpau #magical forces au

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language-sanctuary · 3 years

Note

Hi, I need some advice pls! I love studying languages (it's one of my biggest special interests!) so naturally I have a big list of languages I want to eventually study in my bucket list. I don't care much for speaking said languages necessarily, but I love being able to read every book I can get to in their original language (reading translations just doesn't compare).

What I need help deciding is: should I try study English for real (I learned to speak/read it just by forcing my way into books/movies & forcing exposure with people in online communities) or should I go for one of the other languages in my list (since I already have a pretty good handle of what I do know of English)?

I'm a bit frustrated because while I do know my way around informal conversation and language in general, if I try to read anything more formal/complicated (like old books or research papers) it just doesn't work... So do you think it's worth it, to get better at what I already know instead of jumping to something new now? And if it is, do you have any tips of interesting books and resources to learn English? Most of what I find usually starts with the pretty basics of "English for foreigners" type of stuff and it's really boring for me.

Anyway sorry for the gigantic message and thanks in advance!!!!

Hello! Sorry for taking such a long time to answer, I hope you don’t mind!

I really relate to the “reading books untranslated” being your main reason to want to learn languages. I think it’s very useful to have specific goals very early in your language learning journey so you can adapt the learning method, and there isn’t a “valid” or “invalid” reason to learn languages.

In reference to your English level, I think you sound like a native! If you aren’t planning on working in an academic environment that would require you to have Bussiness English level skills, I don’t think you should worry too much about actively working on your English skills. Personally, nowadays I just consume English media and I learn things here and there, but my learning has been passive for a lot of years now (which is the level that I want to get to with French, so I can consume media without actually writing stuff down).

If you like reading, I think starting with English literature (especially the “classics”) could be beneficial for you to learn more complex sentence structures, become familiarized with formal language, and add a couple of words to your vocabulary. I do really enjoy reading classics but they ARE a bit of a workout for me, which means I need to practice the skills I just mentioned. If you need some specific recommendations let me know!

If you do want to improve grammar-wise, try to identify fossilized errors and make it a point to correct yourself (for me these are mainly pronunciation) or actively practice words or sentence structures that you struggle with (for me it was “awkward” for a long time, and now I have to pause for a second and remember it’s spelled “genuinely”). If you feel weary phrasing things in a certain way, it’s very probable that your brain doesn’t want to use that specific word or sentence structure because you are not familiar with it, and that’s when you know where you’re lacking practice.

I really recommend learning your next language in a language you are passively practicing, it makes things more fun and will help you retain it better. You can always change the plan even if you have already started, I think personally I forget that if I make the lesson plans, I can change the way I am studying if I don’t like it as nothing is set in stone.

Let me know how everything goes, good luck!

#language learning #langblr resources #langblr #spanish langblr #karen responds #study #studying #language studying #dark academia #dark academia aesthetic

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rhgeog2260 · 3 years

Text

The End of a Semester...

Introduction

Wow. This semester has been so topsy turvy - going through a pandemic with multiple lockdowns, online learning, the stress of the world around us...I applaud all of us for making it through this incredibly difficult time!

I want to note that, like some of my peers, I would not have picked to take this course had it not been required. I prefer physical and environmental geography over human geography, so naturally I was planning on going in a different direction. I am now so grateful that I took this course!!! One of my career aspirations is to work with National Geographic, and it has now been made clear to me how vital it is to learn the intricacies of research and its methods/techniques. As someone who would rather do field work than a desk job, I am excited to one day apply all my new knowledge in research to the field I plan to work in!

Three things I know for certain about human geography research:

There are three things that stick out in my mind when I reflect back on what I have learned in this course.

First, the concept of the “visible backpack” has stuck with me. Not only while working through this course work, but also work for other courses, while watching documentaries for my own entertainment, and maybe most importantly in this day and age, when watching stories on the news. As we have learned in Week 3, the “invisible backpack” takes into account all the features of the researcher, including ethnicity, gender, background, and more. These factors can greatly affect the manner in which data is perceived. An example I think of often is the wealthy, young men who interviewed Agafia in the Serbian wilderness. With their backpacks, they could not have possibly fully understood all that Agafia went through, and continues to go through today. This is an important reminder that all research has room for potential error or bias, depending on the exact situation. This allows me to reserve all judgement, and try to see things from all angles before forming an opinion. The invisible backpack can also relate to critical reflectivity.

Secondly, the importance of ethical research has been thoroughly engrained in me through this course. In my opinion, data obtained in an unethical way should be seen as null and void. It can be as simple as asking for someone to make a statement, or as complex as invading a prohibited area to try and fetch data (think of the man trying to preach Christianity to the native people of the Sentinelese island, subsequently getting killed - though this is not exactly a research incident, it is very prominently unethical). Entire research projects can be rendered invalid if the proper ethics are not followed, so I am thankful that this subject was taught and emphasized so much during this course.

Finally, Professor Hooykaas taught us in a way that really engrained the importance of verifying and evaluating sources into our minds. I have been reminded that sources cannot just be blindly trusted - they must be critically evaluated, just like the article itself.

Three things I am still confused by:

The Week 8 activity of coding was certainly challenging at first. While once completed I see the appeal of the organizational technique, it was intimidating to begin, and I quite honestly dreaded that week’s blogging activity. After completion, however, it was very beneficial when narrowing down topics for my Digital Storytelling Project!

Second, I am unsure how to overcome the invisible backpack. No matter who the researcher is, they are not identical to their subject, and cannot fully comprehend their views. I am curious to learn more about how to overcome this and avoid any possible complications that may arise.

Lastly, I am still slightly uncertain about “when enough is enough”. When, while performing research, have you obtained enough data without simultaneously having too much information? I feel this may be remedied by experience.

Three things I know for certain about me as a human geographic researcher:

Firstly, while I know I would like to pursue research in my career, I now know that there are fields that interest me more than human geography. While no doubt interesting, I now know for sure that my interests lie in the more physical/environmental sides of geography.

Second, I know that I can approach research situations with an open mind. I am confident that I can avoid any foreseeable biases in order to have the highest quality outcome possible.

Finally, I feel that I could employ research in a way that has an overall positive impact on the world. Following ethics and my own morals, I know I can conduct research that holds importance in the betterment of our environment.

Three areas I need to spend time developing/learning in order to feel more confident in my skills:

As I mentioned above, I would like to get a sense of familiarity to determine when the amount of research I have done has become too much. I of course want to have all the information, but it still must be conveyed in a digestible manner.

Second, I would like to practice with what types of interview questions are the most beneficial, and what types of questions to ask per scenario. Knowing that will save some stress, help narrow down specific questions, and yield specific results that pertain more closely to the goal in question.

Finally, I would like to develop my skills as a student more. Transitioning to online learning was certainly challenging. By taking this course, I can more qualitatively reflect in on myself and the world around me.

Conclusion

Thank you to all my peers who interacted with my blog this semester! It was a unique way to connect with you all - especially in a remote setting! Be sure to reach out at any time :)

Your peer, Robin Hounsell

References:

Hay, I. (2005). Qualitative Research Methods in Human Geography (4th ed.). Oxford University Press.

Hooykaas, A. (2021). Lecture Notes from GEOG2260- Applied Human Geography.

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hookedonapirate · 4 years

Text

Beyond a Reasonable Doubt

Summary: Detective Killian Jones took an indefinite leave of absence from SBPD after his brother was murdered in the Line of Duty. Bitter and broken, he resides in a cabin on the beach when his brother's former partner, David Nolan brings him a case he knows the vengeful detective won’t be able to resist. A case involving Liam's killer.

Dr. Emma Swan makes all of her decisions like she operates on her patients—with care, competence and compassion. But when her colleague, Graham Humbert, is murdered in cold blood by the man who was freed because of a decision she made as a juror, she starts second-guessing herself. To make matters worse, her squeaky clean reputation is being questioned when she becomes a suspect for Graham’s murder.

There is one detective who believes she’s innocent, and he has a plan to protect Emma and find his brother's killer at the same time. When Killian finds himself caught between his duties to the SBPD and his need for vengeance, matters are only complicated by the feelings he develops for the woman he's supposed to protect.

He's impulsive and hot-tempered, and she's methodical and cool under pressure. Despite their differences, can they work together to bring the murderer to justice, or will the murderer get to them first?

A/N: Many thanks go to @ultraluckycatnd for her wonderful beta-ing skills and @onceuponaprincessworld as always for her encouragement and letting me bounce ideas off of her.

Rated: Explicit due to mature language, character death, violence, murder and smut. The scenes won’t be too graphic, but I’d rather overrate than underrate it.

Catch up: Pro I Ch 1 I Ch 2 I Ch 3

Also available on: AO3 I FF.N

Chapter 4

Killian knocks on the door and lets out a slow, troubled breath as he turns around, sliding his hands into his pockets. He’s rarely here, but it’s time he changes that. And not just for the case, but for Liam. For his sister-in-law. He used to come over to visit Liam, Elsa, and Camila all the time, but Liam’s death caused tension between him and Elsa. He just hates that it took this long; he hates that David had to pull Killian’s head out of the Port Lavaca sand for him to realize this.

“Killian?”

The sound of his sister-in-law’s voice pulls him from his thoughts, and he turns around, offering a faint smile. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Elsa says, narrowing her eyes and crossing her arms as she stands in the doorway. “I wasn't expecting you.”

“Nice to see you too, love,” he teases with a smirk. When her solemn expression never changes into something more cheerful, his smile dims. “Is this a bad time?”

“No, it’s just… usually you call ahead first.”

Killian scratches behind his ear. “Apologies, love, I just…”

“Camila’s out shopping with Anna.”

“Dress shopping?”

“No, we ordered her dress weeks ago. Anna's just getting her some new clothes. They’ll probably be back in an hour or so.”

“That’s okay. Actually, I came here to talk to you.”

Elsa studies him for a moment with a scrupulous eye. “Okay...” She opens the door for him, her features laced with concern. “Is everything alright?”

“Aye, everything’s fine,” he replies as he steps inside. She shuts the door behind him as he turns around to face her, expelling a tentative breath. “Actually, no, it’s not,” he murmurs, his eyes meeting hers. “It hasn’t been for a while… and I wanna change that.”

Elsa knits her brows in confusion. “What do you mean? What’s going on, Killian?”

He gestures between them. “I’m talking about us, Elsa. You and me. We haven't had the same relationship since Liam passed, and I’m mostly to blame for that.”

Elsa arches a brow as if to say, are you sure about that?

Killian chuckles. “Okay, I take all the blame.”

Elsa folds her arms over her chest, her features softening. “Okay, I’m listening.”

Killian tilts his head in the direction of the kitchen. “Can we sit? The conversation might be too heavy for standing.”

“Sure,” she says, heading toward the kitchen. “Would you like anything to drink?”

“Got any wine?” he asks as he follows behind her.

Elsa turns her head toward him, her thin brows climbing her forehead. “Since when did you become a wine drinker?”

“Not for me, for you. You might need it.”

“That heavy, huh?”

“Aye.”

“Well, I have some white wine, but Camila will be home soon and I don’t drink around her. Iced Tea okay?”

“Aye. How’s she doing?” he asks as he takes a seat at the breakfast nook.

Elsa grabs a pitcher of tea from the refrigerator and two glasses from the cupboard, filling them to the brim. “She’s doing fine.” She brings the drinks to the table, hands him one and sits across from him. “She’s growing like a weed.”

Killian chuckles. “Well, she gets the tall gene from both parents. Liam was six feet tall and you’re what, 5’8?” he guesses before taking a sip of his tea, the glass slick with condensation.

“5’7,” she corrects, her lips finally cracking into a faint smile. “5’9 in high heels.”

“Still, she’s already taller than most kids her age.”

“She is,” Elsa nods in agreement and takes a sip.

An awkward silence fills the room, apart from the slow tick of the wall clock, and Killian scratches behind his ear, not sure where to begin. Things are definitely not like they used to be. He used to be able to talk to Elsa like they were… well brother and sister. Sometimes they got along, sometimes they didn’t. But there had never been actual friction between them like there is now. He clears the cobwebs from his throat, breaking the silence. “So, um… I came here to apologize to you.”

“Why? Because our relationship hasn’t been the same?”

“Aye,” he nods, “and also because I never formally apologized to you for what happened after Liam… after he died.”

“Killian, you don’t have to—”

He puts out his hand dismissively. “I do, Elsa. I screwed up. If I hadn’t gone after Cassidy the way I did, he would’ve been on death row. He’d be long gone by now.”

Elsa offers a half-smile and takes his hands in hers. “Killian, whatever you could’ve done or should’ve done or didn’t do, it doesn’t matter. It wouldn’t have brought Liam back. So stop blaming yourself for what happened.”

Killian furrows his brows. “I don’t. Not anymore. But I thought you did.”

Elsa shakes her head, eyes welling up with tears. “At first I blamed everyone and everything. I blamed Liam for not telling me about Cassidy or about the danger he was in. I blamed myself for not telling him to be careful every single time he left the house—” Her voice cracks as a tear rolls down her cheek. She laughs as she removes her hand from Killian’s to wipe her tears. “Hell. I even blamed the cat.”

Killian offers a weak smile. “I blamed Snickers, too,” he jokes, making her laugh again. “I always thought he was an evil cat.”

“But it didn��t matter who we blamed. Liam’s gone, and he’s never coming back. I’ve had to drag myself out of bed every goddamn morning knowing he wouldn’t suddenly walk through the front door telling me he fooled everyone into thinking he was dead. I’ve had to convince myself I wouldn’t wake up one day and find him in the shower and realize the past three years were all a dream.”

He chuckles. “Nice Dallas reference.”

She laughs. “Thanks. Did you ever watch the reboot?”

He used to watch the reruns of the original Dallas with Liam and Elsa after the reboot came out. They watched it for shits and giggles and because it was based in Texas, but who doesn’t secretly love a trashy sitcom? “No, did you?”

She shakes her head. “Never did.”

“So if you didn't blame me for Cassidy getting away, then why did you hate me for the past three years?” Killian asks, getting back to the matter at hand.

“I didn't hate you, Killian. I never hated you. It was just...” She pauses with a heavy sigh. “It was just easier to avoid you.” As she speaks, her eyes drift away from him and she looks up the ceiling, trying to fight off more tears. “It was too hard to look at you because every time I did, I saw him. I still do,” she wheezes, a sad smile on her face as her eyes fall back to his. “It brought back too much pain.”

His heart tightens at the way she looks at him. He’s been told his whole life he and his brother had the same eyes, but he didn’t know how true it was until now. And he guessed he could see the resemblance in pictures or when he looked into the mirror, but he never realized how much their resemblance would affect his sister-in-law.

“And it’s bad enough I live with Liam’s female mini-me,” she says, laughter catching in her throat.

“I can imagine.” Killian’s lips twitch into a small smile. Camila has brown, curly hair and blue eyes like Liam did. “Here I was under the impression you blamed me all this time. I thought you still held some kind of grudge against me for letting Liam’s killer get away with what he’d done.”

Elsa shakes her head. “I blamed you for a long time, believe me. Then I realized it's pointless to place blame. I mean, I could blame my sister for leaving the flash on my phone seven years ago, but if she hadn't, then Liam and I probably wouldn’t have met and we wouldn't have gotten married and had Camila. We wouldn't have had an amazing life together, even if his was cut too short.”

“You're wrong about that, you know? You and Liam still would've met if we didn't catch you snapping his picture.”

Elsa rolls her eyes and laughs. “I know he said he also noticed me in the restaurant, but you and I both know he would've been too shy to approach me.”

“Aye, that's what little brothers are for. They make the perfect wingmen,” Killian chuckles.

“You mean younger brother?”

“Aye.” When the laughter dies in his throat, his smile dims as he stares into his glass of tea. “Truth be told, I would give anything to hear him call me little brother again.”

She smiles. “I know you would.”

He nods, looking up at her again. “He noticed you as soon as you entered the restaurant and his eyes lit up like the Fourth of July. His expression changed like a light switch. As though he were living in the darkness and suddenly a light turned on. I had never seen him look at anyone like he looked at you. And the second he looked over to catch you taking his picture after we saw that flash from your phone go off, he was a goner.”

Elsa nods with a laugh. “Yeah, I literally shined the light in his eyes.”

“You did,” he agrees with a chuckle.

“And you were next.”

Killian furrows his brows and points a finger at my chest. “Me?”

“Yep. I took Liam’s picture for myself, and I was going to take your picture for Anna. Before the flash went off, my plan was to get up, use the ladies’ room and snap your photo when I headed back to my seat. But thanks to Anna using my phone a couple nights before to take a group picture outside a nightclub, the flash was on and I was caught red-handed. And who knows, if that flash never went off, you could be the one marrying my sister on Saturday,” she teases. That was Anna and Elsa’s thing apparently—to take pictures of cute guys and text them to each other. That’s why Elsa was taking a picture of Liam that evening in the restaurant; she just didn’t realize the flash was on until she snapped the photo.

Killian shakes his head. “That would be too weird. She’s family.”

“True, but she wasn't back then.” Elsa takes a sip of her tea before setting her glass down. “It’s too bad my cousin ended up getting called into work that evening because you two might have hit it off… well actually you probably would’ve butted heads, but as they say, opposites attract,” she smirks.

Killian arches a brow. “I have two questions,” he says, counting the questions on his index and middle finger, “Which cousin? And is she pretty?”

Elsa laughs. “Emma. And yes, she’s very pretty. She was supposed to have dinner with me and my Aunt Ingrid that night, but canceled because she got called into work. She’s a doctor.”

“Really? She’s smart and pretty, and you’ve never introduced us?” he asks, pretending to be offended before he takes a sip of his tea. He wouldn’t describe her as pretty though. More like stunningly beautiful.

“And she's three years older than us. I know how you like your women older,” she smirks.

Killian rolls his eyes, not appreciating the off handed remark. “I dated an older woman once a long time ago, yet I never hear the end of it.” He's surprised Emma's thirty-eight even though he shouldn't be, considering she was the runner-up for Chief of Surgery and obviously has the education, training and experience for the rank. She certainly doesn't look her age though. She looks thirty, maybe thirty-five.

Elsa laughs. “Oh come on, I'm only teasing. Anyway, Emma's always working. And I mean always. She works at Storybrooke General which is always on alert for major disasters . I hardly ever see her, and we lived together for five years when we were kids. She even missed mine and Liam’s wedding, but to be fair, she was on her way to the chapel when the entire hospital staff got called in. Remember that hundred-car pileup on I-10 the morning of the wedding?”

Killian nods. “Aye, of course I do. Gusty winds and a sudden whiteout caused the semi-truck driver to hit the car in front of him. 120 injuries, two fatalities. And there were multiple lanes closed while the DPS investigated. It was a huge mess.”

“That’s the one.”

They live in Central Texas, a region where it rarely snows, but on Liam and Elsa’s big day in early December, no one saw the snowstorm coming.

“Thankfully, everyone arrived safely at the wedding. I was an emotional wreck as it was,” Elsa says, recalling very vividly how stressed she was that day.

“It’s a shame Emma couldn’t have been there though.” Killian was the best man at that wedding and happily witnessed his brother exchange vows with the woman of Liam’s dreams.

She shrugs. “Yes, it was, but she saved several lives that day, so I couldn’t really be mad at her.”

Killian nods in agreement. He wants to ask more about Emma, but he’s afraid Elsa would be onto his intentions in a heartbeat. So instead they continue their heavy conversation about Liam and how they’ve missed out on so much by being closed off to each other. As far as she or anyone else is concerned, Killian no longer works for the SBPD, nor is he a detective. But even so, Elsa knows the difference between casual chit chat and being interrogated by a cop since she was with one for four years. She knows fairly well how a detective’s mind works. And while Killian investigates Dr. Swan, it’s essential no one finds out, especially Elsa and Anna. The only person outside of SBPD who knows Killian is working on the case is Mary Margaret, but only because David didn’t wish to lie to his wife.

“So, what do you say, Elsa? Can we be brother and sister-in-law again?” Killian asks with puppy dog eyes.

Elsa rises from her chair, opening her arms for him. “Yes, I suppose we can.”

Killian follows her lead and stands up to hug Elsa. He expels a lengthy sigh of relief as he wraps her up in his arms, both of them expressing through physical closeness what they could never express in words with each other over the last three years—sorrow, regret, guilt, but also forgiveness and appreciation. And as they hug, he counts the seconds, curious to know just how long two people who care about each other platonically would actually hug. He counts eleven seconds before they break it. But those eleven seconds were much needed and a long time coming. Though the length of the hug wasn’t even close to making up for the three years they had missed out on hugs, it was enough.

Nevertheless, Killian concludes, two people can share a hug for ten seconds or more without it being romantic. Emma may not have had romantic feelings for Humbert, but she cared for him. And someone who cares a great deal about someone else couldn’t possibly want them dead, especially not over a job promotion.

“We should’ve done this a long time ago,” Elsa says, another tear spilling down her cheek.

Killian nods as he lifts his hand to wipe it away with his thumb. “Agreed. Sorry I’ve been a stubborn ass.”

She shakes her head. “I’m sorry I’ve been an ice queen.”

He smirks and kisses her forehead. “You’re forgiven.”

She shoves him playfully in the chest and laughs. “Hey, you’re not supposed to agree with me.”

“Oof.” He places his hand there, pretending to be wounded. “I mean, you were never an ice queen,” he chuckles.

They hear the front door open, and when she heads out of the kitchen, Killian follows behind her, hearing loud chatter and excitement.

“Uncle Killy!” Camila hurdles toward him like an Olympic sprinter, and Killian chuckles as he scoops his neice into his arms and lifts her up.

“Hey, little love, I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” she says, laying her head on his chest.

Killian glances over her to see Elsa and Anna smiling at them.“You were right, she is growing like a weed.”

Camila suddenly lifts her head up, her eyes wide with excitement. “Uncle Killy, wanna see my flower girl dress?”

“Of course I do.” He looks over at Elsa and Anna again. “If that’s okay with them of course.”

Elsa laughs. “Of course it is.” She looks at her daughter. “Camila, let’s take your new clothes upstairs and you can show me what you got first,” she says, grabbing the shopping bags from Anna.

After Killian sets his niece down, Elsa takes Camila’s hand in her free one and walks with her upstairs.

“I see you two finally made up,” Anna comments once Elsa and Camila are out of sight.

“Aye we did,” he confirms as they move toward each other. “It was a long time coming. How could you tell?”

She smiles. “Because of how cheerful she is around you now, instead of being all quiet and broody.”

He chuckles. “The proper term is Ice Queen.” He points upstairs. “Her words, not mine.”

“Yep, that pretty much describes it,” she laughs. “So, how have you been?”

He shrugs. “I’m doing better now that I get to spend more time with my niece and sister-in-law. How about you? Ready for Saturday?”

She groans and shakes her head. “Is any bride ever ready for their wedding? I mean, yes, I’m ready to get married to Kristoff, but there's still so many things to do and so little time. I needed a break, so I took Camila out for lunch and shopping, but I let her pick everything. I'm sick of making decisions,” she laughs.

He smiles. “I can imagine.” He scratches behind his ear. “Well, if there’s any way I can help out, I’d be happy to—”

“Uncle Killy, look at my dress! Don’t I look like a princess?!”

Killian looks up to see the prettiest five-year-old he’s ever seen as she bounds down the stairs, her brown curls bouncing around her. She’s wearing a purple, off the shoulder ball gown, embellished with flowers, beads and applique. He smiles and nods. “Aye, little love, it’s a dress fit for a princess.”

When Camila reaches the bottom of the staircase, she gathers the skirt of her dress in each hand and curtsies. “Thank you.”

He chuckles. “She’s even mastered the manners perfectly. You’ll make a fine flower girl.”

“That was fast,” Anna comments to her sister as she makes her way down the stairs.

“I know. She was so excited to show Uncle Killy her dress, she wouldn't even show me the clothes you bought her,” she laughs.

Killian looks at Elsa with puppy dog eyes, making sure to lay the guilt trip on thick. “It’s just a shame I won’t be at the wedding to see her walk down the aisle in it.” He glances at Anna. “Or to see the bride in her wedding gown.”

As expected, he witnesses the guilt flashing in Anna’s eyes, and in Elsa’s.

“Killian, I wanted to invite you, but—”

“But Elsa asked you not to?” Killian guesses, ninety-nine percent sure he’s correct.

Anna looks at her sister.

Elsa nods. “I did, but that was before we talked, Killian. I just didn’t want to bring any family drama to my sister’s wedding.”

He puts up his hand to stop her from continuing. “Say no more, Elsa. I understand, it's fine.”

“You’re not going, Uncle Killy?” Camila asks, her big blue eyes shining with unshed tears, her bottom lip trembling.

Killian gives her a sad smile. “I’m afraid I wasn't invited, little love. But I will want pictures. Lots of pictures.”

“But why not?” She looks up at her mum. “Mommy, why can't Uncle Killy come to Auntie Anna’s wedding?”

He glances over at Elsa, who seems to be having a telepathic conversation with her sister.

He refrains from smirking because, one, he and Liam used to do the same thing when they didn't want anyone to hear their conversation, and two, he knows Anna is caving to Elsa’s unspoken request.

Anna turns to look at him. “You’re welcome to come to the wedding, Killian.”

His eyebrows climb his forehead in surprise. “Really?”

“Yes, we have a couple extra seats available. An old friend of mine from college and her husband flaked out at the last minute.”

“I don’t have to sit or even eat anything, I just want to be there to watch you get married and to spend time with my niece and sister-in-law.” And meet your aloof cousin who might be a murder suspect.

“There will be an open bar and buffet at the reception, so there’s no assigned seating. You’ll be able to sit and eat and spend time with family. That is if you can forgive me for not inviting you in the first place.”

Killian grins and gives Anna a hug. “Okay, I forgive you.”

“Yay! Uncle Killy’s coming!” Camila chants, jumping up and down and clapping her hands.

“Thank you, Anna,” he murmurs, kissing her cheek.

“Of course. You’re still family, Killian. Don’t forget that. Oh, and you get a plus one, so you can bring a date if you'd like.”

He waves off her words with his hand. “I’m sure Princess Camila will be my date.”

Elsa furrows her brows. “Princess Camilla? Don’t you mean Duchess? And isn’t she a bit too old, even for you? Not to mention five thousand miles away?”

Killian shakes his head and chuckles. “I'm not talking about the Duchess of Cornwall, I’m referring to my niece.” He kneels down in front of Camila, taking her hands in his. “Will you do me the honor of being my date to Aunt Anna’s wedding?”

She giggles and nods. “Yes, I will, Uncle Killy.”

“Perfect,” he says with a cheeky grin. “Does that mean I get the first dance with the lovely princess?”

She nods. “Why yes it does.”

He chuckles and scoops her into his arms, picking her up and facing Anna and Elsa. “I don’t need a plus one, I already have a date.”

“Be careful of her dress,” Elsa chides, eyes wide with concern as she smooths out the skirt of Camila’s dress. “Princess gowns are not cheap.”

“You mean to tell me Killian Jones can't find a woman his own age to take to my wedding?” Anna teases, hands on her hips. “You have to steal your five-year-old niece?”

“Oi, I can get a woman my own age,” he frowns. “Even though it’s not as easy since I was invited at the last minute,” he’s quick to point out, “it’s still doable. But why search for one when I already have the perfect date?”

Elsa and Anna laugh and shake their heads as Killian sets his niece down on her feet.

“Why don’t you go up and change out of your dress so you don’t ruin it, Camila. Do you want Mommy’s help?”

Camila shakes her head. “No, I can do it, Mommy. I promise I’ll be careful.” She lifts the skirt of her dress so she doesn't trip over it and heads upstairs, sad she has to change out of her ballgown.

“Lay the dress neatly on the bed so it doesn't get wrinkles,” Elsa calls out to her daughter.

“Okay, Mommy.”

Camila disappears into her bedroom as the sisters have a conversation among themselves. “Oh, by the way, did I tell you Emma RSVP'd?” Anna asks Elsa.

Killian's ears perk up at the mention of Emma's name, and he can’t help but listen in on their conversation.

“No, you didn’t. I’m surprised she’s going considering she lost her colleague recently.”

Anna gasps, placing a hand on her chest. “Oh my, what happened?”

“Didn’t you see the news? Dr. Humbert was stabbed to death in the hospital parking lot. The police don't know who did it yet. Did you hear about that, Killian?” Elsa asks him, both of the sisters turning to look at him.

He shakes his head. “No, I didn’t. I don’t pay much attention to the news anymore.”

“It was so tragic.”

“Was he a friend of Emma’s?” Killian inquires casually.

“Yes, he was. She always mentioned him in conversation when she talked about work. It was always, Graham said this or Graham did that and the story usually ended with us in a fit of giggles.”

“And they were only friends?” he asks after deciding the question wouldn't be too prying.

“As far as I know. She never sent me a picture of him indicating otherwise.”

“Ah, I see,” Killian chuckles, catching her drift. “Emma did that too?”

“Yeah,” Elsa says with a smile and looks at Anna. “You started it when you were what, fourteen and I was seventeen? Back when we had to use Polaroids to take pictures and send them through AOL messenger. We would send them to Emma in a group chat while she was away at college. But she's only sent us a couple pics of cute guys over the years.”

“Really? Only a couple?” he asks, leaning against the island counter with his arms crossed.

“Yeah, she’s always been too focused on her career to think about boys. I remember she once had a boyfriend when she went to Harvard Medical School, but he broke her heart. She hasn’t dated since then. Or at least that I know of.”

Killian nods, debating with himself whether he should ask anymore questions about Emma, but he doesn’t want to seem obvious. Besides, he’d rather talk to her himself to find out more about her. Now that he’s going to the wedding and knows for certain she’ll be there, barring any hospital emergencies of course, he’ll get that chance.

“Like I said, we don’t talk as much anymore.” Elsa turns her head to look at Anna. “It’s nice she’s going to your wedding though.”

Anna agrees before her sister heads upstairs to make sure Camila is able to get out of her dress okay.

After they return downstairs, Killian spends some time with the three of them before he leaves to return to the motel room the SBPD had paid for after he agreed to help with the case. As soon as he's out the door, he retrieves his phone from his pocket and calls David.

“I’m on the guest list,” Killian says and also informs him Emma's going to the wedding as well.

“Excellent. Do you have something to wear?”

“No, but I’ll pick something up.” Killian curses under his breath as he climbs into his truck, remembering he doesn’t even have a gift for the bride and groom. “I have to get a wedding gift too.”

David recommends Royal Tuxedo and texts him the link to the bride and groom’s gift registry website.

“Thanks, mate.”

“No problem.” David gives Killian some instructions for the wedding and a reminder of how to behave around Elsa and Anna’s cousin, to which Killian rolls his eyes.

“I’m always a gentleman,” he claims defensively. “Emma will be in perfectly good hands, trust me.

“Which is exactly what worries me,” David grumbles. “That brings me to my next friendly reminder…”

“Which is?”

“Keep your dick in your pants.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard what I said.”

David’s correct—Killian heard him alright—he just can’t believe David felt he needed to say it. Killian’s a grown man, not a prepubescent child.

“Any man with two eyes, a brain and a beating heart can see the doctor is attractive.”

Killian frowns. “So? I know how to keep it in my pants, even for a pretty blonde doctor, thank you very much. I do that far too often in fact.”

“I'm serious, Jones. Emma's a suspect, and she might be in cahoots with Cassidy.”

“Trust me, if she is in cahoots with Cassidy, I won't want anything to do with her personally. She could be bare naked on a bed dripping wet with her legs spread, begging for me and I still wouldn't touch her with a ten-foot pole.” Okay that's a lie. He might touch her just once with his pole. Or twice, because gods, if she were spread out on the bed begging for him, how could he resist her?

He has to think about something else to prevent his pole from getting hard at the image he implanted in his own mind.

Too late.

He shifts in his seat, repositioning himself when an unbidden groan slips out.

Bloody hell.

“Did you just groan?”

“No, it was a grunt, expressing my hatred for Cassidy.” Killian's statement may not be the entire truth, but he does harbor much hatred for Cassidy. “I want that bastard, David, and I'm not about to let him slip through my fingers by getting my rocks off with a pretty blonde, okay? I’ll do whatever it takes to get him.”

“Which is the second way this could go terribly wrong for us,” David murmurs, far from reassured by Killian's statement. “Don’t turn this into a personal vendetta.”

“If you're that worried I might screw this up, then why did you come to me asking for my help?” Killian questions, his words laced with irritation.

David raises his voice. “You already know why I asked for your help. Just don't make me sorry I did.”

Killian hangs up and tosses his phone into the passenger seat before peeling out of Elsa’s driveway cursing to himself. As angry he is, he knows David has good reason for worrying. While Nolan has always been the level headed detective who plays by the rules, Killian is the rebel who has a careless approach to regulations and often lets his emotions take the lead. But still, he has another shot at getting that bastard and he’s not about to screw this one up.

Cassidy will rue the day he met Killian Jones; he'll make sure of it. Even if it's the last he ever does.

Tagging some people who have shown interest so far. If you would like to be tagged or untagged, please let me know.

@itsfabianadocarmo @snowbellewells @ilovemesomekillianjones @nikkiemms @teamhook @xhookswenchx @nikkiemms @xsajx @julesep3026 @hookedmom @biefaless @cluttermind @yasbio2015 @kmomof4 @lfh1226-linda @harshini01 @noensnaringnet @xarandomdreamx @onceuponaprincessworld @annastasiarinaldiva @royalswan @brustudyblog @officerrogers @gingerchangeling @melly326 @singersdd @mzbossyboots @unworried-corsair @iamemmaswanjones @authorarsinoe @kingofmyheart14 @nightskylover @jamif @resident-of-storybrooke @iam2307 @winterbaby89 @chinawoodfan @mormonkryptonite @ultraluckycatnd @captainswan-shipper88 @killianswanjones @bethdacattfm @andiirivera

#cs ff #captain swan fanfiction #beyond a reasonable doubt #my fic

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