Chapter Text
Fire.
Heat.
Then-
Nothing.
(The cold touch of skin)
The ground swelling beneath him.
Metal. Flesh.
The sound of a ship engine.
Blaster fire. Someone shouting.
A crash
Hiss-snap
Fear extinguishing the pain for just a single moment. Then agony again.
The outline of a small hand in his.
A young voice, Ben, Ben, please
Tears falling like the drizzle of rain against tattered cloth and aching skin
He tries to open his mouth to speak. He can’t.
Master, please
There is only silence
There is only-
Darkness
-_-_-_-_-
He jolts awake, breath heaving. His vision blurs. He can’t see, why can’t he see, it aches, it hurts to even look, a voice - a familiar voice - speaks in a low urgent tone but Obi-Wan can’t make out the words.
The trickle of water slides down his throat.
He drinks mechanically.
Memory is pliable, he knows this. It passes by in flashes and for a moment, his vision tints in red.
Fire. A glowing red visor.
His breath hitches.
Leia.
Where is Leia?
The thought barely crosses his mind before a pair of hands grip him and Obi-Wan loses it completely.
He lashes out blindly.
He strikes with every ounce of strength he has left in him, his hands forming into fists and slamming into the person hovering over him. There is a sharp oof, the sound of footsteps stumbling backwards, and Obi-Wan stands on unsteady feet. He thinks he hears a noise behind him, but his elbow only meets empty air and he staggers, almost toppling over in the process.
It hurts to concentrate on any one thing. The room spins.
Awareness hurts, everything hurts, and he has no choice but to take that desperation to protect Leia and uses it. The Force is a severed limb that he himself had cut and made himself live without. Now, he pays that price.
He breathes. Goes still.
“Obi-Wan, it’s me!”
Nobody should know that name. He buried that person on Tatooine ten years ago.
The sound of a crash nearby slams panic into him. He almost doesn’t realise it when he backs himself into a wall, shaking violently. But then he stumbles over something, and the next thing he knows, his hand is closing in around a long cylindrical object. The metal is warm to the touch, it hums, a familiar tune but all he knows is the pain of loss, of grief, of things better left buried in the sand and never unearthed.
He nearly drops it.
But he doesn’t.
He presses the ignition and a light springs up into the air like a flame.
It’s supposed to be blue.
All he sees is red.
Running footsteps.
Urgent shouts. That same familiar voice that brings back memories that hurt even worse than the ones that he fears because it is a reminder of everything he has lost. Metal thudding on metal again, a slow mechanical whir, and all Obi-Wan knows is the rust in his mouth and the heavy breathing of a creature more machine than man.
I am what you made me
He has dreamt of fire so many times. Now to even touch the light inside burns.
“Obi-Wan.” The voice comes again, pleading, gentle.
The haze abates. He regains enough of himself to see that the shadow cast on the walls is not the flow of a cape, that the sound of machines is from the generator somewhere in the distance and not Anak- him.
The lightsaber deactivates. It falls from his limp grasp.
“Quinlan.” He says dully.
“Hey, Obi-Wan.” Quinlan Vos says, so very tired, but still there is the hint of a grin in his eyes. “That was one hell of a greeting.”
Obi-Wan studies his friend. Can't stop seeing the spark that he still carries inside of him. He thinks of that Jedi on Tatooine - Nari - Force, he had been so young, he would have been a child when the Purge happened. Another person that Obi-Wan could have helped but didn't. It was too late now.
Regrets and mistakes - that's all he ever carried.
(You never know what you had until it's gone)
He looks at Quinlan and thinks-
I’m glad you’re alive, gets caught in his throat.
So does, I’m sorry.
Because he can't be the person that Quinlan wanted him to be.
No more than a relic of the past. Of a dying era.
“Leia.” Obi-Wan says instead. Swallows hard. “Where’s- where’s the girl?”
Quinlan’s expression falls.
Obi-Wan stops breathing.
“No, I-” He says, distantly, barely aware of the tears building behind his eyes. “I felt her. She was here, she called me, I told Tala to take her and escape.”
“Tala saved you.” Quinlan says carefully. “Listen, Obi, Leia’s not here but we do know where she is. One of the Inquisitors have her. But we’ll get her back. I promise you, we’ll get her back.”
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” Obi-Wan pressed his knuckles against his mouth, desperately trying to hold back the sob that he could feel building in his throat. “Tala- Tala was supposed to help her escape. Not come back for me. I made my choice!”
Quinlan’s gaze travels to his shoulder, heavily-bandaged. “You would have died.” He says, lips set into a thin, firm line.
“I. don’t. care. Not if it meant that Leia-”
“Don’t ask me to lose you too.” Quinlan cut in, “ Don’t.”
Obi-Wan stares at him for a long while. Unbidden, his lips twist into a sardonic smile. “Then I guess it's better to ask for forgiveness than permission.”
He turns away. He wants to run, but he's been running for so long now that he is exhausted. He grips the edge of the entrance - parts of the tent flapping in the arid breeze. He catches a glimpse of more barren land beyond, still charred by blaster fire. Recognition is a sharp flash of even more suppressed memory.
Jabiim.
He’d ‘died’ here, after all.
The dead stay dead. He holds onto the ghosts in his heart and refuses to let go and so the light burns him.
Burns him.
It burns.
-_-_-_-_-
I am what you made me
Vader’s words. Anakin’s.
A monster of Obi-Wan’s own making. Left to suffer and languish in the flames of Mustafar for an eternity. When the connection between them had flickered into place for just a moment, he felt Vader’s pain as if it were his own. The husk of a person. Always struggling to breathe even when there are no lungs.
Vader is nothing but a wound still bleeding red into the Force
Red.
Blood. Fire.
(Why is it always, always fire?)
He touches the side of his arm. The wounds are still fresh, raw, and a sharp spasm of pain rocks through the nerves as he does so. Cuts and bruises and scrapes - all of it could heal. It was inconsequential. It did not mean anything to him - not the pain, because it is something that he has learnt to get used to for so long now.
This is what he tells himself.
(Liar)
Didn’t matter.
Only Leia did.
He needed to find Leia and bring her back to her family on Alderaan. She was counting on him. Bail. Breha. He could not fail them.
He had to- he had to keep going.
One last fight.
He stood to his feet, and started to limp. The ship that had brought them here - it had to be somewhere. He scanned the horizon, eyes sharp, determining where would be the most likely spot. He looked for any sign of civilization, but only saw a thin trail of smoke in the distance.
He debated with himself, conflicted.
“Ben? ”
A child’s voice. Scared.
Obi-Wan whirled around, heart leaping in his chest.
But he saw nothing. No one.
His fingers clenched.
“I’m coming, Leia.” He murmured feverishly to the wind, his mind set.
The whistle of a breath. The barely audible thud of toes landing against the rock behind him. Obi-Wan doesn’t even have to turn around.
“Not without me you don’t.” Quinlan pointed an accusing finger. “See? I just knew you were going to run off. Probably steal my spaceship, and then fly off to rescue that kid of yours. Without even saying goodbye!”
“Quinlan.”
“Obi-Wan.”
They glared at each other.
The sun was setting. He watched as Quinlan’s silhouette grew sharper, and the shadow he cast faded.
It felt so very cold.
“Fine.” Obi-Wan said reluctantly, at last. “But no delays. We go now."