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"Perhaps."
Idiot Jedi, idiot, idiot, too stupid. The answer of the question "Are you going to live?" should never have been a ruthless “perhaps”. Perhaps. Such an utterly disgusting word of ambiguousness. How amazing. Very suitable for Obi-wan. Perhaps.
“It may not be up to you, Senator.”, huh? Idiot. Bail was angry, after everything they survived, and no, he didn’t want a dead body. No. Never. Because yes, politicians sometimes really took issues with nature laws.
Bail turned his back to the Jedi to leave, he needed to take the backpack, but a cough stopped him.
"Bail?" Obi-wan asked from where he lay. His voice was nothing like the first time Bail met him. But even then, Bail would say the Jedi was exhausted.
"Yes?"
Obi-wan didn’t speak. Hesitance. "We came this far."
Bail nodded. Yes, they came this far. And he was talking about dying seconds ago! That was why Bail swallowed a "We came this far, and all you can say is a ‘perhaps’, Obi-wan?" Instead, he turned back and heard a warning.
"No need to make a small but fatal mistake, right?” Obi-wan asked. “Senator?"
Days before, Senator Organa would take offence. Days before, he wouldn't stand being scolded like that. He wasn't a child; he wasn't an idiot. Except, it wasn’t. But it wasn't that, he knew. It wasn't a scold. It was how General Kenobi told people to not to die. To be careful.
"Please." he added and the expression in his face too serious, too careful, Bail felt the need of a witty comeback. Something non-serious, something light hearted and even arrogant. Something to tease.
None came.
So, he nodded once again and leaved to fetch the backpack.
Obi-wan was right, of course he was, because one mistaken step and Bail was too close to a timeless death. Rocks had fallen and showed him where he could be laying stiffly. Bail shook his head and kept going, climbing the steep ravine. His shoulder had stopped resisting long before.
When he turned back, he had fallen asleep. Bail didn’t know someone could be pleasant with other one’s sleep, he never had a baby, after all. Even though he and Breha thought on it, they never had. He wreathed Obi-wan with a blanket. Then he sat down. Watched the Jedi for a while. He looked much better since they broke the... thing. The rock. The jewelry of the devil? Was it too melodramatic?
He seemed healthier, if the word wasn't offended of the use of itself in such situation. Calm. Perhaps.
Bail walked around and decided to pick some branches before the sunset. The cold was stinging on Zigoola. It could have been easier with two working shoulders. Or if he wasn't feeling so many bruises or cuts or exhaustion or dehydration or just... hunger. But at least, his mind was safe. Something really new to be grateful of. Picking wood was nothing compared to the things. The things Bail didn’t want to remember. Right?
When he turned back to their, camp, with generous words, he immediately made a fire. He sat down close to fire, and then he felt something in his chest. Something close to a heart ache. Because there was a realization. Something… almost unrecognizable. Something that was nothing, not pain. Not desperation.
He was able to sit down. He could sit, not walk to a doomed destination anymore. He wasn't hearing Obi-wan's whimpers. He wasn’t feeling the dreadful weight of his saber in his belt. He wasn’t feeling the weird, foreigner hunger. He wasn’t thinking about, no, dreaming about just slowly dying in his sleep.
He didn't need to think about surviving.
He felt a wet pearl in his cheek. Grown men didn't cry. But he was sobbing. Not because of sadness, but quite because of happiness. Just... Just because of his stretched nerves were finally shearing off with the relief of not doing anything.
His shoulders startled once again, hurting the left one, but he didn't care. His split lips tightened and hurt but he didn’t care.
He wasn't thinking he was too loud but still it was enough for Obi-wan to try to sat up with urge, and instead let a painful sound escape his mouth, forcing him to lay back. He was fully awake now. "Bail? Bail, are you okay?"
Bail just shook his head and closed his eyes to let go of the tears.
"Did I— But— I am not seeing visions; did I do something? I am not—"
Bail lifted a hand to stop the Jedi but he had already started-
"I apologize if I did something, I am so sorry, I— Where is the med kit? I can help, I think, it is bad news, I wasn't seeing anything but—"
"No," Bail stopped him, trying to wipe his tears. "You didn't do anything to me."
"Oh," Obi-wan’s voice was full of relief at first, so much relief, then curiosity bloomed.
Bail shook his head. So how is it going to be the same? After this planet? After this relentless soil? The bitter water? It most definitely not going to be. At all. Not after all the tears and blood and decisions. Not after reaching and thrusting far more of every border of humanity. Every border. Thirst. Hunger. Cold. Pain. And finally, for Obi-wan, mind.
Obi-wan couldn't even trust his own mind. Look how he started to apologize with worry: Bail didn't even want to think about how must have it felt. And for him... Every time he closed his eyes, he heard whimpers. Even when he lay in his soft and warm bed in Alderaan he wasn't going to leave anything behind. Even then, he was going to feel these merciless rocks beneath him. Everything was going to be behind their skulls, forever. What a weird thought. A thought, not helping his tears at all.
Obi-wan, as if he heard every thought, he might as well actually did, sighed slowly. And uncharacteristically, his hand reached to the Senator, further from his own side, lying on red soil. Bail, surprisingly, took it. Maybe it was the same as offering a shoulder to cry for a friend. Obi-wan's hand was cold but he squeezed it with life.
"It will not be the same." he said, as if he was confessing the truth of his life. Maybe he was. "But it doesn't always mean despair."
"Ha-ha, says the one went through this," said Bail, meaning… everything. Everything they went through. Every crossed border.
Obi-wan gritted his teeth with pain. "It is not 'if there is this experience in this galaxy it isn't worth.' you know? I think, it is the opposite. Very, very opposite.” He stopped to breathe. “It is more likely ‘if there is this experience, we should return and make sure no such thing happens to anyone, ever again.’ We can trundle the rock again and again.” He shrugged, or tried to shrug. “Every day, all day. Why not?”
"How marvelous," mocked Senator, "And, may not be the Jedi way but I took philosophy lectures too." He sighed with memories. "My question is: How? With which power? With whom?" He lowered his gaze at the ground and started playing with the sand. I don't feel different than this particle of sand. And feel barely as powerful as it.
"But there is plenty of that." Plenty of people in the galaxy. Hurt and maybe not that powerful yet- too many, with a powerful bond.
Bail paused for a second, because yes, it was cliché and maybe coarse but... It helped.
"Stop reading my mind."
"I wasn't!" said Obi-wan, laughing -then wincing- and jokingly offended. "Apologizes, but the Senator's mind was so evidential."
"Bail." he corrected him.
"Bail." Obi-wan agreed, his face becoming serious. “I am sorry for what I put you through.”
“And here we go. When the other one is the real guilty your apology really becomes insufferable, you know?”
Obi-wan made a noise that could be considered laughing. He was about the reject to the suggestion of who was guilty, but “So,” started Senator. “Painkiller and water. Now. As I told, I know how to use your saber now.”
Even though Obi-wan laughed, and Bail himself smiled, he found himself wishing not saying it at all.
Because memory was so clear, so new, so near. The smell of burning fresh was just under his nose.
“We should treat your leg.”
He wished not to know how to use a lightsaber at all.
Obi-wan held out his shaking hand. “You can use my sleeve.”
Bail carefully teared the fabric to use it as a bandage. He tried not to stare to long at the scar he created -he created, how, how, how did he manage to do that?- not believing that he was capable of it. He hurt someone and the accepting it as a fact was unbearable.
“I am sorry, Obi-wan,” he said, trying not to meet his gaze.
Obi-wan laughed, and laughed, to the point Bail worried for him. “You are apologizing?” he asked, hysterically laughing. Finally, his laughs ceased. “Don’t be,” he said, so blithe, so careless. “We are here, now, it is all matters.”
Bail tried to.
-
The senator woke up in the night. He did not wake up to something, but the lack of something. Heat. A soft light. And as later he was going to realize, stars. Zigoola’s sky made it impossible to lie down under it and dream.
But primally, there was a fact here, their fire was out. Gales made him shudder. The wind was harsh. Of course, it was. One shouldn’t expect less from this planet. He relighted the fire and sat beside it the second time. He turned his face to Obi-wan. He was under his blanket, in deep sleep. He was even better, the disheveled look of him and the conflicted face had disappeared. He even looked… peaceful.
But it only made Bail worried. Because there was one thing Bail learned very clearly about Zigoola, that nothing was that easy. That peaceful, was a dangerous trap. Peaceful was too close to death.
He kneeled beside Obi-wan, not sure of what to do. Then he slowly took his wrist and started to count his pulse. He barely felt the thrumming, and their number was… penurious. Too scarce, for his liking. He put his hand to his shoulder. He was cold. Kriff. No-
“Obi-wan.”
No answer came, though there was the safe sound of fire crackles.
“Obi-wan?”
The smell of the burning wood. Didn’t smelled like the ones from Alderaan. Still, as all fire did in a cold night, it felt safe.
“Obi-wan!”
The bitter feeling of the breeze between them. After all, maybe, fire wasn’t helping that much.
There aroused a feeling inside Bail, the sharp anger and despair of coming too close to triumph but losing all. A feeling probably the gamblers of central planet Briitath felt all the time, after guessing first eight numbers right but losing everything at the last draw of the number.
Losing all after all.
So, Bail shouted the Jedi’s name once more, waiting the smallest whisper, anything. Something to let him know he wasn’t alone. Something to let him now that what he was shouting wasn’t just a lifeless body. Not after dragging, carrying, feeding, punching him, even injuring with a lightsaber.
For a second, there was nothing. He screamed the name. He shook the Jedi from his shoulders.
No. Not after everything, no—
“I… beg… your pardon?” then a sleepy Obi-wan answered.
Bail hadn’t known someone could be so happy with the other one’s wake.
“It may sound cruel but you shouldn’t sleep.” he said hastily. “It is too cold.” And your pulse is too weak.
There was no response.
“We came this far,” reminded Bail.
“Ah,” hummed Obi-wan, “yes.” he spoke, voice hoarse, as he could only now process the meanings of words. He blinked his eyes.
“You are going to dive back as soon as possible, right?”
“Yes.”
If he wasn’t so worried seconds before he could laugh.
So then, something Bail very well know, even though he never did it before on a foreign planet with serious injuries with a nearly-died-Jedi beside him.
Talking. Chattering. He was a politician, after all.
He talked about the view of where he sat -or in Obi-wan’s state where he lay-. He talked about his home. The smell of fields. The way sun shines so specially there. The senate. Oh, the senate, the building of big babies! Obi-wan laughed at it. Of course, politicians. He never liked them. And his wife, and how they wanted to have a kid. “They are absolutely a pain in the neck,” said Obi-wan though he never had kids, apparently his padawan was enough. “Former padawan,” he corrected him. And thinking about Anakin wiped sleep out of his eyes and put concern here. Concern, or even… Worry.
“But you love Anakin, right?” Bail asked. It was an unnecessary question. And thinking about it the second time, it wasn’t even a question.
There was hesitance. Not the hesitance of not knowing, because Obi-wan knew what he felt. But the hesitance of accepting it. Accepting attachment. Knowing something as clear as day but not vocalizing it. Bail could saw it all from his face and… Didn’t he already heard Obi-wan screaming his padawan’s, former padawan’s name? Reliving so many bad memories. Again, and again, and again… And there it was, a realization. A very, very slow one. What Obi-wan went through was… reliving, which meant, he went through all those terrible things before. Bail was somehow thinking… they were new pains for him, prepared by Sith. But they weren’t. They weren’t new scars.
“Of course,” Obi-wan said, finally.
Of course, he loved him. “But attachment is wrong,” Bail guessed.
“Yes. No. It- it is complicated. ‘What you understand from attachment, it matters.’” Obi-wan quoted Master Yoda.
Now he was thinking. “This planet, maybe every vision was because of my attachments.” he accepted with disgrace. Before Bail could reject, he continued. “But also, isn’t it why we endured all?”
Bail nodded. Perhaps it was.
“Well, how are you now?”
“I am fine.” was the automatic response. “Just,” came the acceptance with Bail’s glare, “tired.”
They didn’t dare to say a word for a while.
There was a question, between them. One that waited for Bail’s pronounce. One that could shut Obi-wan out. But also, one that needed to be asked. So he would ask. Eventually.
“What were they, Obi-wan?”
Obi-wan closed his eyes, as if the answer was there. But no answer came, and Bail understood to not to push. If they were private, it was okay. And maybe he didn’t even want to hear after all. Maybe trying to forget was better. If such thing was possible, of course…
“Death.” Obi-wan would spoke. “Death- of my master. Hurt— of Anakin. Your uncle— whom I’ve found. A ship— leaving me on Melida/Daan. Fight- with Ventress. Myself—” He would let out a painful breath, if he talked about it. If only he confessed all to someone. “Realizing I was using the dark side of the Force. Pain. Grief. Desperation. I don’t even know what they were anymore.”
But he didn’t.
Bail could see, his mind was somewhere else, shaking his head, something in his eyes went cold.
But then he did something, something so surprising Bail froze for a second.
He smiled faintly as if something was funny.
“Firebeetles.” he said, expecting the other one to understand.
It was funny, yes, scary, but also a funny memory. He missed Qui-gon. Their adventures. Sometimes breaking each other, but still the existence of the loving bond. A bond that broke timeless.
“You didn’t tell me they were carnivore.” Once again, an expression as if it was a joke. A tragicomic one but a joke nonetheless.
Bail sighed. “Well,” he said. “Not that it would help, I guess.”
Obi-wan laughed even more. Well, either way General Kenobi will not be able stand the sight of one, I guess, Bail could nearly hear the thoughts of him. Or maybe Obi-wan wasn’t thinking of such thing. Maybe he just found it amusing and he was just laughing no matter what. He was laughing quite a lot lately, and, yes, even though it was worrying, he deserved it after everything.
More silence. His eyelids were getting heavier. And the negotiator was shying away from speech, containing his secrets to himself, quite funny to think. But still, it wasn’t uncomfortable. This silence was nothing like the cold pause of the senate, nor the waiting for the next word coming from other side’s mouth on a negotiation. It was the easy silence of two friends, nearly died countless times but clung to each other. The soundless night of Zigoola. There were no birds. But there were, in Alderaan. So many. Bail somehow felt so homesick, just wanted to see Breha’s face again. He could lay down next to her, just a few days more, and he could fall asleep with bird songs and definitely more stars than here.
“It told me to die.”
Bail raised his head quickly, staring at Obi-wan blankly. He hadn’t realized he was sleeping. So… easily… drifting to sleep. As if their lives weren’t in danger. Well, it wasn’t anymore. Except, he should’ve looked after Obi-wan, hypothermia wasn’t their friend, he did a lethal mistake— But the confess he just heard—
“Submit, Jedi, Submit. Or die. Or both. I don’t know, at the end, it was too loud anyway.”
Obi-wan was staring at the sky, the weird darkness with the lack of stars, how it was even possible, Bail didn’t know. There were most certainly stars out there and the sky wasn’t cloudy. They just decided not to shine. They just decided to… abandon the Sith.
If he could find the strength to open his mouth, he would apologize. For what? He didn’t know.
“And memories. Like I told you. Firebeetles. Your… uncle. Some deaths… from my past. A feast for the Sith, actually. I could feel its… relish. Glee.”
Obi-wan was talking so easily now, his lips were unsealed, and now Bail didn’t want to hear. It was painful, so his guess was correct. But still, Obi-wan tipped off. Talked. Not as if he was the first-hand source, rather like he was talking about dull, scientific facts.
“It was like… like… drowning. And when I washed up on shore… It was either pain… Or it was you. Telling me not to give up. Still, I was about to. I was so close. Yet you still believed in me.”
Now he was looking straight at the Senator, his eyes in the brink of tears.
“It was so exasperating, actually.” he smiled bitterly. “Such a fool hope. That’s how Senator of Alderaan is like so it seems. Foolish. And hopeful.”
And then he was crying. Bail Organa was watching General and Jedi Master -and who knows what other qualification- Obi-wan Kenobi cry. And it scared him. It was disturbing to watch. It wasn’t surprise, what Bail felt -and that fact itself was surprising a bit- but… it was pain. As he didn’t want to listen him pouring his pain, he didn’t want to watch him weep.
“Don’t cry, Obi-wan,” he said, as gentle as possible. Please, don’t cry. Don’t do this. Please stop confessing you were so bleak, because I didn’t realize you were and I want to imagine the quite reverse.
“You are right, it is annoying.” Obi-wan laughed and looked like he was scolding himself internally. He tried to wipe his tears with his sleeve, but his sleeve wasn’t there, so he used his hand instead.
“It is not annoying.” Bail said matter-of-factly. “It just hurts to watch.”
Obi-wan’s brows knotted together as if he couldn’t deduce any meaning out of it. “Okay,” he said, blinking, and looking somehow… drunk? No, sleepless, Bail corrected himself. Tired, worn out, exhausted, and so many other epithets.
The sun was showing itself very shyly now, from the horizon. For Bail, it was like a Breha, poking out her head from the doorstep. Just a bit longer, and then it would be a lot warmer, and he would leave Obi-wan alone, he would let him sleep.
“I am sorry. For everything. Not just for the last days but… also because of… the memories.”
Obi-wan nodded, face serious now. As if he was reliving them all in a different way now.
“Okay,” Bail said, unsurely. “Okay, alright. Uhm, I talked about mine, Alderaan, now you should talk about yours. How it will be… after… that?”
Obi-wan pondered the question. Bail was looking at the sun rise now, just a bit further, come on, just rise-
“I will go to Coruscant.” he started, nearly reproachful, because he didn’t exactly have a home like Senator. Still, he kept going. “It is… warm. Than here.” Then he furrowed his brows, he wasn’t satisfied with his definition. “Not like physical. I mean, Zigoola is cold, yes, but not only physical. And temple is warm.” It truly is a home. “It is like… that sun…” he gestured the rising sun now, “but it is inside of you. And… It has a lake. And, it is… it is… beautiful.” He groaned with his dry portrayal. “I’m sorry, I can’t think clear right now.”
“Okay, okay, just… sleep.” Bail said, definitely not sure of what to do. Was it a risk? But was it a risk not letting him sleep? Obi-wan was getting agitated, and Bail didn’t want to see a perturbed Obi-wan anymore. Then he could wake him up at intervals. “I will check you out sometime.”
“But you? You should sleep too.”
“I slept, Obi-wan.” There was a hint of shame. “It is okay.”
He got up, trying to run away from conservation, he flared up the fire.
-
"Would you help me? Please?”
“Of course, what is it?”
Obi-wan was trying to carry his weight in his arms, but something was keeping him down. The possibilities were a lot, his sprained arm or broken ribs or just fatigue-
“I want to sit up.” He said and Bail helped him. So Obi-wan sat up, staying in balance by taking support from ground with his hands. Not the most comfortable position for him.
Bail looked around carefully. Some rocks caught his eyes. Red. Huge. One that could spare them from cold winds and one that Obi-wan could lean. But far away. Because these days Bail wasn't in the healthiest fit and idea of walking a few metres scared him.
“Can you walk?”
A sigh. Though it was clear Jedi wasn't going to say "No." even when he needed.
“Not sure. How long for?”
Well, that was new.
“Just right there, see?” Bail showed the rocks. They would also be farther away from the Sith temple, which was a big advantage. He also saw this realization in Obi-wan's eyes. Yes. Yes, we should do that. Please, let’s get away from the temple. “I will help you, don’t worry.”
Obi-wan was trying not to put his weight on him, because of course, he was so arrogant, but at the halfway he was about to collapse, and muttered something about his lungs. Bail held him closely but carefully. The man who saved his life countless times coughed and clung to him.
When they reached, he put the backpack as a back onto the rock, when Obi-wan sat down and leaned, he wrapped him with blanket. “Look. Better than the seats of your fancy council already.”
“Ha-ha.” Obi-wan laughed dryly. “Still, it is good to lean back.” he accepted then.
Bail walked around and gathered more wood. When lighting a new fire, though he was no Jedi, he could hear Obi-wan’s hesitance. He was brooding over something as he tended to. Good. It was his usual way. Obi-wan Kenobi was coming back. Bail hoped so. He wasn’t the sad Jedi he had been the last night.
But Obi-wan shook his head to himself at where he sat.
Then a hand went down his blanket and came back with his lightsaber. He looked at it and paused. “Could you take this, Bail?” he asked.
What?
Why? No. Did visions come back? Was Obi-wan hiding something from him? No- no- Bail couldn’t do it again. Couldn't stand it any longer. Not again. His heart was pounding now. He wouldn’t take it. He couldn’t hurt him. Not again-
“No. I won’t.”
“What?”
Bail glared at him and Obi-wan made a noise of realization. His hands were throwed up innocently. “No! What did you think I was asking? No… Just… can you put it a few metres away from me?”
Oh. False alarm, then. A welcome one. As his heart eased Bail approached the Jedi. Shaking his head, he nearly laughed at himself. “I won't take it.”? What if it was a real situation again? Then how would this matter? His resistance would only be a childish cry. And it would only hurt Obi-wan further.
He reluctantly took the saber, thing the feeling of it in his hand. He walked away as Obi-wan nodded, and placed it on the soil.
“No, a little bit farther. Please.”
So Bail complied.
Obi-wan straightened his spine somehow and winced. Stripped the blanket down. His breathing neatened. He closed his eyes. Bail recognized the method from earlier, from the ship. Before he gave into the nightmares and migraines. Meditating could help him, or make him worse, Bail didn’t know. But Obi-wan wasn’t just meditating.
Breathing. Laboured, no lies, but still better considering the last days. Sitting cross-legged, his hands were on his knees. His face didn’t contain any emotions. Clear. As day. As the love of the lover. As the rivers of Nouvaddon where you can see every fish and pebble under the water. Finally, as he was getting impatient, he lifted his hand.
Bail turned his head to the saber, lying on the ground blissfully ignorant. It didn’t move, it didn’t rotate a bit. Didn’t tremble. Stayed where it was, not listening the summon, refusing to land in Obi-wan’s hand and refusing making him smile.
Obi-wan’s brows furrowed. His eyelashes went up and his eyes made Bail flinch. They were frustrated. Hurt. Desperate. Bail didn’t know anything about the Force and wouldn’t care. If only he didn’t see the despair in Obi-wan’s eyes. Not anger, no, but feeling so little in the universe. Not lnowi g what to do in the face of thieft. Something Obi-wan had in him since he was a child was stolen. Or it was worse- because he never did own anything. The stolen thing was a friend of him. An old friend. A very dear one. Something in his breathing and something in his way of life. Now all long gone-
Bail walked to the saber in a tearing hurry, took it and turned back, while clipping it to Obi-wan’s belt, ignored Obi-wan’s protesting pleas.
“Why did you do that? Please, put it back!”
Bail kept ignoring him while turning to the backpack, and he didn't saw how Obi-wan unclipped his saber from the belt and threw it. Or how he immediately regretted it with the stinging pain in his arm.
Bail searched inside of his backpack, found the little meal package. When it heated, teared it and gave half of it to him.
“Eat.”
“I am not hungry.”
“I know.”
Obi-wan took it unwillingly.
“You are a Jedi.” Bail talked. “In a Sith planet. Still, you are a Jedi, no matter what. Please, eat.”
When they ate -which was hard, because after eating too little for too long, stomach was getting lazy and brain was relying on not eating at all. Yes, brain was stupid, believing that food wasn’t necessary- but Bail was getting distracted- when they ate, Obi-wan was staring at the fire with lack-lustre eyes and a tilted head. Someone like everything he knew died because of a planet. Someone like grieving.
Bail looked at the wrapping kraft of meal. Thin and soft. Soft- nothing like the stale food, he grimaced. Cleared it by rubbing it to his trousers. He folded it into half. Then opened again. Easily bended, obedient, like a soft flower and most importantly, if he is right, he wants to be right so much, will not hurt Obi-wan—
“Obi-wan,” he stood up, smiling. Obi-wan didn't need to know the worry behind the smile. “Take this!”
The jedi raised his head to examine the standing man. “Sorry?” he asked, his mind somewhere else seconds ago.
Bail decided not to use words, instead, waved the paper in front of his face aggressively.
Something flashed in Obi-wan's eyes. Confusion. Then hope. Too much hope that it hurt Bail because if he was wrong-
Obi-wan took the paper. He lowered it to his eye level, holding it like a leaf, hands shaking. He started staring at it like the secret of life was written on it— not nutrition info and preparing instructions. Like he was reading every line with caution, like it was how he could even learn to breath. He stared and stared and breathed. Because yes, maybe it was how to learn breathing for him. He needed the Force. For breathing, for his heart to beat, otherwise— Bail saw his blank eyes. Otherwise, the answer were these eyes. The answer was too bad to think.
And something happened.
It moved. From the corners, paper moved just a little, little but no one could mistaken it for wind or anything. It was completely and only Obi-wan’s willpower. Mind, thoughts… or… feelings, Bail wasn’t sure. But the paper folded, folded, folded and finally, slowly, Obi-wan was holding a wrinkled, crumpled piece of rubbish.
Bail laughed in the most inappropriate way for a prince.
From outside, it was funny. It could’ve looked funny. Two strangers, on a foreign planet, looking at a rubbish and cheering like it meant everything to them. But it meant. It meant so much. Obi-wan’s shining eyes were enough for him to care.
“Told you,” Bail said. “You are a Jedi, no matter what.”
Obi-wan was tired with sweat drops on his forehead, he looked like he just carried a whole ship on air, like the Jedi on HoloNews these days. Or, crushed a Separatist’s army, not a little paper. He looked exhausted and Bail could get angry at him for it.
If only he wasn’t so happy. His shaking hand fell with the paper as he nodded.
“Thank you.” he said gently. “Thank you.”
Bail shrugged. “Water, now.” he said. “And more sleep before sun goes down.”
Obi-wan groaned. “And when will Senator sleep?” he said. “Who will take care of you?”
“Jedi Master did it already for so long,” he said while handing him a water bottle. How many times did the Jedi save him already? If he talked about it, how would he answer? Don’t mention it Senator, we are here now.
Yes, they were here. Alive— if not very well. Teasing each other, smiling. Waiting the dark dot of a ship to appear on the sky any minute now. They were good.
They were good. Everything was going to be good. Galaxy was in the hands of good people, and they could trundle the rock once more.