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Author	Topic: What the Heart Hides. Obi, Ani, Siri - drama, humor, comfort. Complete as of 090208.
Valairy_Scot Registered: Sep '05	Date Posted: 1/20/07 5:18pm Subject: What the Heart Hides. Obi, Ani, Siri - drama, humor, comfort. Complete as of 090208. - Date Edited: 9/27/08 5:23pm (84 edits total) Edited By: Valairy_Scot
	Title: What the Heart Hides (Part of the Heart of a Jedi series) Author: Valairy_Scot Timeframe: Clone Wars Characters: Obi-Wan Kenobi, Anakin Skywalker, Siri Tachi Genre: Drama, romance, humor, h/c, Obi-torture Keywords: Siriwan, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Anakin Skywalker, Siri Tachi, Yoda, Mace Windu,ghost Qui-GonClone Wars, Jabiim, romance, Asajj Ventress Summary: One who loves Obi-Wan but can only remain a friend, a padawan who loves his master: both mourn the death of Obi-Wan Kenobi on Jabiim. Notes: A post in Resource (quite) some time back wondered how Siri would have reacted to news of Obi-Wan’s “death” on Jabiim. That post inspired this. I have taken a number of liberties with the story as published in Clone Wars Volume 3 & 5. Usual disclaimers apply as to characters and situations. Sequel (far more light in tone) is found here: Truths of the Heart What the Heart Hides Prologue: Jabiim. It was just one battlefield among many in the conflict that would become known as the Clone Wars. As on any battlefield, many died. A place of brutality, violent death and strangely, mercy, in the form of aid and comfort to one’s enemy for it was one thing to destroy in the heat of battle. It was quite another to watch the wounded die when an enemy could reach out a hand and save the injured. Imprisonment was better than slaughter, when the option existed. No unnecessary deaths were how Jedi waged war; it was how they conducted war and how they expected their troops to do. Jabiim. It was just one of many battles that the famed Jedi team of Kenobi-Skywalker were involved in, and it was nearly their last. In its aftermath, lives were forever altered. Jabiim. It was a planet and a battle mired in muck and mud; the only thing certain rain and death. Ground was gained and ground was lost. The currency of real estate was blood. Lives were lost. The reason for fighting was lost. Hope for victory was lost. He who endured, would win, but victory would be hollow since so few would still be standing. Ebb and flow, victory and retreat, the front was always moving, never static. During one rapid retreat, a disabled Republic AT-AT had been abandoned. It was an ungainly troop carrier, well armed, with tall jointed legs giving the crew a high vantage point. The legs were its weakness: disable one and the entire thing crashed down. Should it topple forward, the forward crew compartment nearly always snapped upwards, sparking at its connection with the boxy compartment behind, resulting in a fireball of exploding energy and ammunition. The charges meant to destroy it and keep it out of enemy hands had misfired. The opposition forces had repaired it and were now using it against the Republic forces. Retaliation was swift and merciless; the AT-AT was heavily targeted. With a loud thunk its support legs buckled and the troop compartment collapsed into the ever-present mud. The AT-AT burst into flames as troops scrambled to escape the fiery hell. In moments the flames would reach the ammunition and those still inside would be trapped. Nobody deserves to die trapped in a blazing inferno, neither friend nor foe, Obi-Wan Kenobi thought, and leaped to his feet. It would be an agonizing death: lungs struggling for air and breathing only superheated fumes, lungs melting under the onslaught. Skin blistering and blackening, hair aflame, flames literally consuming one from outside as well as inside. “We’ve got to pull them out of there,” he roared, and led the charge to save those they were trying to destroy just minutes before. The Jedi grabbed his comlink to contact his padawan for assistance as he dashed forward, re-attaching his lightsaber to his belt with the other hand, ARC Trooper Alpha as always at his side. Obi-Wan Kenobi ran with purpose and determination; he ran into destruction as the AT-AT exploded. Searing heat exploded outwards, as the shock wave of the blast flattened everything with its range and molten fragments rained from the sky. Within a range of a hundred meters, nothing living was left. His padawan, Anakin Skywalker, could only gape from the ground where the shock wave had thrown him, stunned, as his comlink conversation with his master was suddenly cut off and the awful reality sunk in. Obi-Wan Kenobi was dead. Chapter 1. Echoes of Silence Silence. The silence hung in the air, a grim reminder of happier days long past. This silence was not the peace that usually enveloped the Jedi Temple; this was the silence of absences, of emptiness, of a time of war. Silence, so much silence enveloped the Temple these days, other than in the crèche and class rooms of the younglings. War had all but emptied the Temple of masters, knights and older padawans, for war had not yet been left to mere machinery. War was waged by sentient beings; war demanded beating hearts and weary souls. If war was fueled by greed, aggression and envy, it fed on death, decay and despair. The wide halls echoed with the occasional footstep of a Jedi – home on leave or home to heal. The soft babble of the fountains that were usually a comfort in the periphery of one’s hearing was a roar in the eardrums, its pulse matching the beating of blood within one’s heart. The hangar, too, was silent now; the mechanics back at their task of maintaining and repairing the Temple’s fleet of ships. Now alone in the silence, Jedi Knight Siri Tachi stood watching what could no longer be seen. The ship had left moments before; even now it was in orbit, soon to leave Coruscant behind. Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker’s leave was over; they had returned to war. To Jabiim. The reunion between old friends had been far too short. Bittersweet. Siri had returned to the Temple before Obi-Wan and Anakin left; their leaves overlapping. It had been the first time in months Siri had seen the two Jedi. War had left its mark on them both, for they were in the front lines constantly, pulling off impossible stunt after impossible stunt. War had made them heroes in a galaxy desperate for them. Of the two, Anakin Skywalker was “the” hero and the face of the Republic. He had been dubbed the Hero of Naboo at nine, as Holonet reporters constantly reminded its viewers. His youth and good looks had made him the poster boy of the war – much to his master’s consternation and amusement. War did not need to be prettified, in Obi-Wan Kenobi’s view. It did make, however, for a lot of teasing in a world where sometimes one forgot the sound of laughter in the screams of the dead and dying. Those who appreciated dignity and strength rather than youth and good looks – the dependable versus the flashy – found their hero in the older man, the “negotiator” forced to fight, though his mature good looks were hard to deny. The gray that spotted his temples lent him a maturity that belied the youthful glint in his eyes while the slight slump of his shoulders bespoke a man burdened by duty and responsibilities. A young man and an older man, staunch defenders of the Republic - good guys - Jedi. They were the best of the best, trusted by their Order and trusted by the Chancellor. Larger than life. They were long gone, but Siri still saw them – him - in her mind’s eye. Not that same man, but that man as he had been not so many years ago: the young man with a straight back, smiling eyes and a braid below his shoulder marking his padawan status, a smooth and beardless face only marred by frowns of concentration when not broken by grins - the Obi-Wan of memory, from a time long past. It had been a time when the future stretched before them with infinite promise, before loss and duty had marked them both. Siri and Obi-Wan had had one day to catch up on events, just one after months of separation, just one for friends of many years. Just now, the two had departed, back to war, back to battle, destination Jabiim. It was not usual for Siri to feel Obi-Wan’s absence so keenly. They had been friends for years; had known each other even longer. She knew him almost better than he knew himself, and she knew it was only deep immersion in and faith in the Force that allowed him to keep his serenity in face of war. He faced battle with the same courage and unwavering faith that he faced life, but more than a year of war had worn at him. His spirit was discouraged, his resolve tested, his soul weary of the never-ending destruction and pain that was an inevitable result of war. What the man occasionally struggled with, the Jedi accepted without complaint. His very struggle was what had allowed Obi-Wan to retain his humanity in a time of inhumanity, for Obi-Wan refused to be hardened by war, to be numb minus pain, to be a killer without conscience in the service of a principle that demanded lives in sacrifice: too often, innocent civilians. For the most part, the enemy forces were armies of droids, non-sentient and their termination more of a mechanical disabling than taking of life. Leave had done the Jedi good: the sparkle in his eyes was unforced, the mirth of his soul unrestrained and his wry humor evident. His padawan seemed more at ease, too, his brooding and silences broken by smiles and good humor. Siri had seen them off. Her hand had dropped on Obi-Wan’s arm as he turned to leave: something told her to hold onto him. The gesture had surprised Obi-Wan; he had looked at her with something of a question in his eyes. “Be safe,” she urged. Obi-Wan’s eyes had crinkled at her. “If the Force wills it,” he said, his voice, as always, gentle and with a hint of humor. He glanced at his padawan, and added with a wink, “assuming Anakin continues to rescue me from each situation he drags me into, I’ll be fine.” “Now, Master, you know you get yourself into those situations on your own.” A snort greeted that obvious fallacy. “At whose urging? Usually, following in your footsteps when you throw tactics to the wind and rush off on same damn-fool idealistic crusade; calling on the Force as I go.” “You mean complaining to the Force, don’t you?” Even Siri hid a smile at that jibe. A masterly glare, spoiled by a twinkle, tried to quell the padawan. “No, asking for the wisdom to not follow you. I really should know better by now. I never needed so much rescuing when I worked alone or when you were young and actually followed my lead.” If the two started bickering and teasing each other, they’d never leave. Obi-Wan might be a member of the Jedi Council, his appointment fairly recent and still a source of bemusement to the Jedi himself, but no mere Council member could quell Siri Tachi. “Watch his back, okay, Anakin?” At the young man’s nod and easy grin, Siri added with emphasis, “if I have to lose you, it better be after I haven’t seen you in a long while, not while the memory of you is fresh.” “I’ll be fine. I have Anakin with me,” he reassured her. “It’s not like you to worry. Are you having one of my ‘bad feelings’?” He had then patted her hand, the one still lying on his arm. It was an unusual gesture for him, for Obi-Wan rarely touched her. Never big on physical gestures, he had all but avoided touching her since the day long before as padawans they had stepped away from love and firmly onto the Jedi path. “You big gundark – no. It’s only – we haven’t seen each other in so long, and now I’m going to miss you all over again. I haven’t seen Garen or Reeft in ages, either. We knew life as a Jedi would pull us in different directions, but none of us knew we would be pulled into a war that could separate us forever. Just be careful.” With a sideways look at Anakin that indicated he fully knew he would be mercilessly teased later, Obi-Wan leaned over and pressed a kiss onto Siri’s forehead before turning to board the ship, a smile still in his eyes. Anakin stared at Siri, then at Obi-Wan, and with a shrug he followed his master up the ramp. Resisting the urge to brush fingers over the kiss that lingered in the memory of flesh, Siri still stood, long after the shuttle was gone. Aboard the ship, Anakin plopped down and favored his master with a knowing grin. “Yes, Anakin?” It was Obi-Wan’s long-suffering quizzical gaze. “Watch your back, Knight Tachi said. Then you kissed her.” “I did not…,” Obi-Wan folded his arms and at Anakin’s disapproving glare, sighed. “It wasn’t that kind of kiss, Anakin. Don’t try to make something out of it that was not there. I’ve known Siri many more years than I’ve known you. That was a far cry from a, ah, romantic kiss.” It certainly had not been “romantic,” meaning passionate as Anakin defined it, but it had been incredibly gentle. Knight Tachi hadn’t visibly reacted, which meant something in itself – normally, she would have lobbed a sharp tongued barb at his master, not stood quietly with soft eyes and parted lips. While Obi-Wan looked perfectly serene, Anakin knew him well enough to know that inside he was squirming just a little bit. Anakin scratched his head, deciding how to irk Obi-Wan the most. “For someone as unimaginative and stodgy as you, it might have been.” “Stodgy? Half the dashing team that graces the Holonet almost every night? Poster boy’s companion and sidekick?” Obi-Wan sure could play the wide-eyed innocent. “Who’s paying attention to their publicity now?” The mocking tone was deliberate. Obi-Wan’s teasing on the subject made Anakin just a bit uncomfortable, for it hit too close to home. He liked the attention and the praise; knew as a Jedi he shouldn’t care about such things. “Your publicity, Padawan. Anything to do with you I pay close attention to, as your master. I will continue to do so until the day you are knighted – and probably beyond.” “Someday I can tell you to quit watching my every move; that I’m your equal.” “Oh, no, never my equal,” Obi-Wan returned in all seriousness. “You shall far surpass me; at times, you already do. You shall be an extraordinary Jedi once you have reached knighthood and I shall be proud to know that I am the one who guided you on your first steps to knowledge of the Force.” If his words were meant to deflect his padawan’s teasing, it worked, though that was not the intent. “Pride, my master?” “Pride, my padawan.” Obi-Wan reached over and fingered Anakin’s braid. “I shall, of course, release that emotion shortly after experiencing it. But I will feel it; I already do.” Anakin flushed and grinned at his master. He cherished these all too few moments when Obi-Wan showed the man inside the Jedi, the proud almost-father. Obi-Wan too often adopted the role of master and teacher; he had had to seek outside the Order for the parental figure he yearned for and had found: Chancellor Palpatine. Only with the Chancellor was he free to be both man and Jedi, unconstrained by roles and expectations, free to be who he was. As with Padme. His wife, too, accepted who he was as well as who he was expected to be. “The Chosen One;” he might be, but with those two, he was chosen to be friend and confidante, with Padme, also lover and husband. To them he was Anakin Skywalker. To the Jedi he was “padawan,” and “Chosen One,” seen in the context of his role and rank within the Order. Even to his master, he, too often feared: his fears and joys dismissed and expected to keep private, not on public display. He feared that Obi-Wan rarely saw him, only expectations; only the Jedi everyone thought he should and could be; the one he knew he never would be. That night on Tatooine had proven that. ** In the Temple, Siri finally turned and walked slowly away from the hanger; the swishing of her robes the loudest sound there, next to the blood pounding in her head. Obi-Wan had kissed her, and no kiss on the lips, no passionate declarations of love, could have been so tender or had such an effect on her. The kiss was Obi-Wan: warm, gentle, and compassionate as the man himself, the man still beneath the Jedi, too long hidden behind duty and responsibilities. In its own way, it was more romantic than the ones they had shared years ago as teenagers for this arose from no youthful passion of awakening desire; it was a gift from the heart and the touch of a gentle man – intimate because for the moment it had seemed only the two of them existed. Even in those days, flush in the first knowledge of young love, teetering between life as lovers or life as Jedi, Obi-Wan had never been much of a romantic, big gesture guy. Deeply passionate he was, but his feelings ran too deep for outward expression and were too long buried by training and necessity. They had both expected to die, that time in the doomed ship, and in the recognition of there being no more tomorrows, they had let go of restraint and shields and admitted what they had denied even to themselves for so long. They had meant to live their final moments together, to die together, content to lie in each other’s arms; lips occasionally brushing in a gentle caress, wanting, needing, denying their wish to explore their feelings when so little time remained to them. It was enough to know they would die holding each other, knowing full well that their masters would find them in whatever broken pieces they might then be…together, but having died as Jedi. Because they loved each other and had finally admitted it, there was an ease between them that came only then; the way that Obi-Wan cradled her head between gentle hands as their lips met, the way she wrapped her arms so tightly around him that they seemed to merge though they remained separate. But they had not died, and they knew that to be Jedi was to not act on their feelings, deny them if possible, but hide them, they could not. Love without possession, love not pursued – it was the only way to stay true to themselves and to their chosen life paths. Somehow their masters had known anyway of the feelings they were just discovering and learning how to handle; had known that ultimately the only lasting happiness the two padawans would find would be in parting. Neither could have lived happily having left the Order; living without each other was almost as difficult. But both were meant to be Jedi – they knew it, their masters knew it, and Yoda knew it. Siri’s master, Adi Gallia, was a quiet and serene woman, cool and detached, but she had given her padawan her understanding and quiet counsel to help her through it. Obi-Wan’s master, despite his deep connection to the Living Force, had handled it far less effectively. He had immediately enlisted Yoda’s aid to speak to the young man, and the two of them had counseled Obi-Wan to end the affair before it had begun, after it had already ended. Neither Siri nor Obi-Wan had yet admitted the truth of its ending, despite their mutual knowledge that what had never been could never be. Obi-Wan had needed understanding and guidance; he had received a lecture, gently delivered though it had been. Qui-Gon was a master when he should have been a friend, a teacher when he should have been the wise paternal figure that Obi-Wan had needed at the time. The time for that had not yet come: the heart needed tending before the mind. Because Qui-Gon Jinn had not been gentle with his padawan’s emotions, intervening when he should have listened and speaking harsh truths when he should have counseled, Obi-Wan learned to hide his pain and grief in silence and quiet obedience. Saying “goodbye” to what might have been and could never be had been difficult, more so when Siri saw in Obi-Wan’s eyes his deep misery and loneliness. She, at least, had her master to guide her through the pain as she grieved for what could never be, not isolated in despair as was Obi-Wan with his master’s emotional withdrawal after his initial intervention. Obi-Wan had been pale, his face drawn and lined, his eyes old and broken, his heart locked in silence and pain, when they gave up any possible future together. They were Jedi, and now each knew the sacrifice the life demanded of them. They had paid the price. Their parting had been difficult, hearts and minds brimming with unspoken emotion as they parted ways with a touch of fingers and eyes that held only pain. That was the last time Siri, or anyone really, saw the real Obi-Wan’s pain, for he learned how to hide it inside himself. When, years later, he had come back to the Temple a knight, Qui-Gon having fallen in battle on Naboo, it had been hard to see his inner anguish. Obi-Wan had mastered the Jedi façade of perfect calm by releasing his emotions into the Force. But not long before, for just one moment there in the hangar, the façade had cracked, the gesture speaking as the man would not. Inside Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi there still existed that open-hearted, giving young man; for once, he had allowed himself free expression of what he too often kept tucked within. -----signature----- http://boards.theforce.net/fan_fiction_resource/b10304/25405090/p3/?52 Prolific Author thread: list & links there. Muse fueled by coffee. Often AWOL despite frequent sipping. Writes on inspiration, not a schedule. 2007-2008 the quality years
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earlybird-obi-wan Registered: Aug '06	Date Posted: 1/20/07 9:50pm Subject: RE: What the Heart Hides. Drama. Siriwan, Obi-Ani. Jabiim and how it affects those left to mourn.
	Oh another great one for me to follow, will you PM me -----signature----- writer and Star Wars fan FANART [link=http://boards.theforce.net/fan_art/b10020/25793899]fanart[/link] stories in my bio
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dianethx Registered: Mar '02	Date Posted: 1/21/07 7:09am Subject: RE: What the Heart Hides. Drama. Siriwan, Obi-Ani. Jabiim and how it affects those left to mourn.
	Beautifully written of course and very vivid. I loved how you took us into Jabiim first, with its horrors and then back to the way Obi-Wan and Siri parted, friends who could have been more than friends and yet chose not to. Still the love lingers, even if it's buried under layers of Jedi duty. Great job. PM me please with updates -----signature----- Betrayal - http://boards.theforce.net/s/b1/10935143 updated 9/22/09 jedidas3's Master Merlin - Diplomatic Immunity - http://boards.theforce.net/nswff/b10808/30459852
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Hananiah Registered: Jan '03	Date Posted: 1/21/07 3:38pm Subject: RE: What the Heart Hides. Drama. Siriwan, Obi-Ani. Jabiim and how it affects those left to mourn.
	Wow, a really beautiful and quiet peace, very much like obi wan's kiss. I liked the rflections on the past. -----signature----- Buffy:"Laura Ashley is definitely back" Willow: "You think?" Buffy:"She's back and this time it's personal.You see they mated her with the home depo guy and that's how we got Martha Stewart" BTVS unaired pilot
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Luna_Nightshade Registered: Jan '06	Date Posted: 1/21/07 10:22pm Subject: RE: What the Heart Hides. Drama. Siriwan, Obi-Ani. Jabiim and how it affects those left to mourn. - Date Edited: 1/21/07 10:26pm (3 edits total) Edited By: Luna_Nightshade
	Beautiful as always, V_S. I'm thrilled to see how well you write war scenes, as I have a ridiculously hard time visualizing war scenes in general but you make it wonderful and easy for me. Your writing of the Skywalker-Kenobi team is flawless as ever, and I love how you write Siriwan with a tenderness that makes me really like it. (I admit to having never read a "canon" Siriwan before, so this is uncharted territory for me.) Seriously, I think you just get that much more incredible with everything you write. Pm me please as always! EDIT: What's the magic word? Oh yeah... please. EDIT 2: Fixing something that could be misinterpreted. Geez, tonight is not the night for my communication skills. -----signature----- It’s dark now and I am very tired. I love you, always. Time is nothing.
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Fifilla Registered: Mar '06	Date Posted: 1/22/07 12:02am Subject: RE: What the Heart Hides. Drama. Siriwan, Obi-Ani. Jabiim and how it affects those left to mourn.
	Wow, very intense - as always! Please update this soon! -----signature----- "There's always a bigger fish." Fear Of Failure - young Qui-Gon (WIP) > http://boards.theforce.net/before_the_saga/b10475/27642896 Padawan to Valairy_Scot
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VaderLVR64 Title: Manager Emeritus Registered: Feb '04	Date Posted: 1/22/07 4:50am Subject: RE: What the Heart Hides. Drama. Siriwan, Obi-Ani. Jabiim and how it affects those left to mourn.
	Beautifully written! Please PM me with updates! I don't want to miss a post. -----signature----- R.I.P John, Alex, Jason, and Christian Never forgotten Soldiers' Angels http://soldiersangels.org/ 2114 soldiers waiting for someone to care
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Valairy_Scot Registered: Sep '05	Date Posted: 1/24/07 1:33pm Subject: RE: What the Heart Hides. Drama. Siriwan, Obi-Ani. Jabiim and how it affects those left to mourn.
	Earlybird-obi-wan: PM list, check. Dianethx: loved how you took us into Jabiim first, with its horrors and then back to the way Obi-Wan and Siri parted, friends who could have been more than friends and yet chose not to. Most of this story will be fairly straight forward chronology, I think. At least the next 2 chapters are. The actual Jabiim stuff - haven't decided. It'll have more impact if it is revealed towards the end, I'm thinking. Haven't decided. Hananiah: Next chapter will be less peaceful, dealing with battle’s aftermath. Luna: Writing action is HARD! That’s why most of my “action” is reaction. Much easier. Your writing of the Skywalker-Kenobi team is flawless as ever, and I love how you write Siriwan with a tenderness that makes me really like it. I don’t write much Siriwan, either, but this plot bunny did grab me. Seriously, I think you just get that much more incredible with everything you write. Thanks...practice helps. I re-read some of my first posts and - shakes head. Fifilla: You want intense – I think Chapter 2 is way more intense. VaderLVR64: Ah, thanks. Advance notice: Chapter 2 deals with the aftermath and a battlefield is not pretty. Just warnin' ya. -----signature----- http://boards.theforce.net/fan_fiction_resource/b10304/25405090/p3/?52 Prolific Author thread: list & links there. Muse fueled by coffee. Often AWOL despite frequent sipping. Writes on inspiration, not a schedule. 2007-2008 the quality years
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Valairy_Scot Registered: Sep '05	Date Posted: 1/29/07 1:15am Subject: RE: What the Heart Hides. Drama. Siriwan, Obi-Ani. Updated 0303. - Date Edited: 3/3/08 12:44am (1 edits total) Edited By: Valairy_Scot
	Chapter 2. Casualties of War Debris continued to rain from the sky: sizzling as the ever-present rain boiled and steamed from contact with molten metal arrowing into the mud and digging deep, sometimes burying itself in the bodies of the dead and wounded. Anakin Skywalker lay where he had been thrown, arms cushioning his head and eardrums from the explosion, his hand still clutching the open comlink. Only static came from it. Hearing returned as did conscious thought. Screams and guttural cries forced themselves into his consciousness, as did shouted orders from nearby, the slish-thud of troops fighting for traction in the sloppy mud. Someone dropped to his knees, laid a hand on Anakin’s shoulder, shook him. “You okay, Skywalker? C’mon, there’s injured to rescue.” Injured, dead – Obi-Wan was somewhere out there! “Master?” he screamed into the comlink, and registered the static of a dead link. That didn’t mean – it meant nothing – comlinks sometimes went dead, it didn’t mean - “Obi-Wan!” he yelled, heart pounding, clenching his hands into fists. “Master?” He pushed himself to his feet, face intent as he reached out through the bond for his master’s presence. Even injured, Obi-Wan should be present in the Force, but the Force was chaotic with the screams and pain of the dead and dying, for the Force was composed of all life energy and the light of one Jedi alone could not stand out in the whirl storm of darkness. The Force keened and roared as it absorbed the dead and madly swirled about those who might only rejoin it. Peace and surcease from pain it promised to those who came to it. Peace and surcease from pain the dead found there. They were the lucky ones. “Medics and fire suppression units,” another Jedi called in coordinates as Anakin stood frozen, eyes searching the charred bodies for one clothed in brown, but there was little of the scene yet visible, hidden in nightmares of smoke and flames. He would have plunged into the midst of that inferno, tripped over bodies and dug through bones, had he any idea where to search. Where are you, Master? Don’t die in a futile attempt to save others – save yourself. Stumble, limp, crawl out of there – drag yourself with one hand at a time. But the silent cries of his heart went unanswered. Swirls of gray ash and dark smoke slowly dissipated in the rain, swollen clouds bled angry tears for the misery underneath in great gushing torrents. Clonetroopers brought in the wounded, many severely burned. Anakin watched each one be carried past him, watching for a russet hued beard or hair, a brown cloak or sand-colored tunic. Near the still smoking center of destruction, medics were still working on the most severely injured; the dead still lay where they had fallen, for the moment ignored. A hand poked out of a tangle of bodies, the blackened flesh still steaming as the rain washed it free of mud. Almost without thought, Anakin’s footsteps took him into the carnage. He had seen the aftermath of hell far too many times to let hell deter him, but hell had never held his master somewhere within its boundaries. Obi-Wan was good. Obi-Wan was light. Obi-Wan was alive, not some body charred almost beyond recognition in the center of a firestorm of destruction as moist droplets cooled incinerated flesh. As Anakin searched, his eyes grew ever colder and his mouth ever grimmer. He was near the center of the blast now; medics crouched over pitiful remnants of those once living. The smoking ruin of the AT-AT was now steps away from him, the hot metal nearly cool now under the cool flood of rain. Bodies, or what had once been bodies, spilled out of the split open troop compartment, bones and skin crumbling to ash with one touch. What had once been arms and legs jostled and mingled in a horrifying tangle of humanity. Clothing, hair, skin had been incinerated in the heat, rendering the victims all equal in death, for no rank, nothing, was left of the artificial divisions sentient life imposed in search of order. Anakin’s boot gently stirred the tangle as bodies wisped into bits, but no tarnished lightsaber whispered that here was one who had once been known as a Jedi master. Anakin’s search continued. The stench of death was everywhere and body parts littered the ground. Ash and blood, cinders and bones coated the ground – a horrific scene painted in tones of black, gray and red. Clones – they were clones and the medics would not be taking DNA samples to match the living against the dead. They were clones; all the same, and all that was important to some was the number dead, the number missing, and the number living. Anakin wanted to retch at the futility of it all. Death was death, regardless of whether it was one or more than one, even if those deaths were considered to be just one man, or one part of one whole. From the beginning, his mind had tried to see each clone as a distinct entity, for each was unique in its own way even if identical genetically to millions of others. At this moment his mind only separated the victims into two categories: not-his-master and his master. He had to see Obi-Wan Kenobi’s body for himself, to touch it, to whisper a farewell to it, to shed a tear or two over it. He dreaded it; fought against it and railed against the Force for not protecting his master, but he would not accept reality until reality stared him back in the form of sightless, staring eyes. He needed to see the body. He didn’t find one. He was still on his knees, eyes searching and mind open to the whispers of the Force, when the other Jedi came for him and led him away from the now quiet field, fires quenched and ash mixing with blood and bone fragments into a slurry mixture. Anakin fought them with all his strength; he needed to be here until he could say goodbye – could find something to say goodbye to: a scrap of cloak, a piece of leather, even a lightsaber never more to be wielded in honor or defense of the innocent. In the mud there was nothing to see, in the hiss of steam as rain quelled the last remnant of flame there was nothing to hear, and in the corner of his mind where his bond connected him with his master there was nothing to feel. Fellow padawans, following their masters’ orders, gently urged him to his feet, held him upright and tried to assuage his grief. They took his arms and ignored his struggle; half dragged him away back to base where they pressed him into a cot. He never felt the pinprick in his arm. ** A low murmur of voices slowly intruded into his awareness. Moans of pain, whispered orders, a gurgle from a dying man and the soft swear word from a surgeon. Anakin knew where he was. The smell told him that as much as the sounds. Why was he in the medical tent? He wasn’t hurt, was he? He was only wet, angry, and grieving – and he remembered a terrific blast and casualties everywhere. His eyes snapped open, searched for Obi-Wan who surely would be sitting at his side, worried eyes suddenly crinkling with his grin when the two made eye contact. His master always came when he was hurt – but he wasn’t hurt. Obi-Wan was the one hurt. He should be sitting at his master’s side, not lying down. Something was terribly wrong – where was Obi-Wan? “Hey, take it easy there, Skywalker.” Anakin struggled up onto an elbow, feeling a bit groggy. “You drugged me,” he accused. “Only a very mild sedative, young Skywalker.” General Norcuna’s arms were crossed before him and his eyes were sad, but Anakin saw only the stiff posture. General Leska stood by his side, her own eyes quiet in repose. “Master Obi-Wan?” he rubbed his head, afraid to ask, needing an answer. “Have you found him yet? Is he going to be okay? I need to be at his side.” “He is one with the Force I am afraid, where he is now well and whole.” The gentle words were meant to be soothing. They were not. Anakin looked up angrily as the words registered: one with the Force – translation – dead. Something inside Anakin broke as something else spoke up in protest. “Just tell me – he’s dead. I don’t want to hear how he’s at peace in the Force or how we should be happy for him. He’s dead, right? You found his body – take me to him.” They would have to prove it to him. He would have to see Obi-Wan’s dead body for himself; otherwise, he’d never believe it. It just could not be true. “There was – nothing left to find. He was in the center of the explosion, helping the troops escape when it blew according to those who managed to survive. I am truly sorry, padawan, but Master Kenobi was killed. It is your right to inform the Council.” “Tell them what – he’s missing?” “Accept it, Padawan. Master Kenobi is dead. Isn’t that why we had to bring you here – your bond shattered? Your mind must be incredibly sore.” “The bond is fine,” he ground out. At their looks, he said desperately, “but it is. It’s quiet, too quiet, but it hasn’t been severed.” “Then where is he? Why doesn’t he reach you? Padawan, we’ve cleared the field. We did not find Obi-Wan, or – ah – anything of him there. Search your feelings, the Force, not your heart for the truth. You know he was there… and anyone who was there is here. How could your master survive that which so many didn’t?” “I don’t know, but, no…I don’t believe it,” Anakin said dully, but the edge of certainty had fled. “Do you wish to inform the Council, or do you wish one of us to take that duty from you?” “I’ll tell them,’ Anakin agreed. Weary resignation had taken him, though part of him was screaming no…no! He owed nothing less to his master. ** A muscle twitched in Anakin’s jaw as he waited for the holo-transmission to coalesce into being. What was the protocol in such situations? Obi-Wan cared about such things. He did not. “Padawan Skywalker, a report you have? Where is Master Kenobi?” Mace Windu eyed him carefully, hands loosely clasped in his lap. Maybe saying it would make him believe it. “Master Kenobi is dead – he was killed a short while ago. It was an explosion – there was nothing left of him to find.” Eight pairs of eyes focused on each other. The Council members sat in silence, only their eyes moving, and all moved to one of the vacant seats in the chamber. The other members were away from the Temple. This was not a formal meeting, then, as the absent masters were not there in holograph form. One master was not there in any form, for his form no longer existed, destroyed on Jabiim. “I see,” Mace said neutrally. His eyes drifted to Yoda’s eyes and the two exchanged long looks. Anakin wondered if they were remembering years ago when padawan Kenobi called to report the death of his master. Did his blunt words live up to the example that his master had set that date? Did the Council know that inside he raged as badly, grieved as deeply, cried as silently as Obi-Wan Kenobi had that day? “Do you wish to take leave to…,” he wondered if Mace was about to say: bring his body home before he remembered there was no body to bring home, “…to mourn your master? It is your right and we know the violent severing of the bond between master and padawan like this hurts, physically and mentally. Your own master’s mind was tender for days.” Anakin hadn’t known that, but then he had seen little sign of visible distress in Obi-Wan in those first days, either on Naboo or upon their return to the Temple. His hands had often massaged his temple as his eyes grew cloudy, his voice perhaps a bit sharp, but in those early days Anakin had thought the hurt feelings engendered before the Council had made his new master little touched by grief at the death of the man who had so angered and shamed him. Qui-Gon Jinn and Obi-Wan Kenobi had barely spoken to each other after they were dismissed from Council; spoken even less after Qui-Gon’s sharp reprimand to his padawan on the landing platform as they prepared to leave Coruscant for Naboo. Anakin had never seen the blood drain so quickly from any one’s face or sensed such distress expressed in the simple movement of a wheeled turn and retreat as commanded. The two Jedi had spoken little, and then only in the coldest of formal terms, on the trip to Naboo. He had known Qui-Gon was troubled by the silence and hurt between them, and nine year old Anakin had been unhappy with Obi-Wan for making Qui-Gon sad, but the strain between the two Jedi had eased, if not disappeared, once they had landed on Naboo. The two were in harmony again, for the short time until everything changed. It had taken young Anakin a long time to see that a Jedi kept his grief bound within, not on public display, but as to actual pain from the bond’s severance - . His own mind hurt, his stomach churned and his heart cried, but the bond felt quiet, smothered as it were, not severed. The pain of Obi-Wan’s death was much as the pain of Qui-Gon’s death, or the death of his mother had been – an ache, a hollowness, a missing piece – but no searing brand scorched across his mind to mark the violent end of a mental bond as Mace seemed to think. What would he do with leave? Sit and brood? Remember all the harsh thoughts he had harbored for Obi-Wan over the years? Remember all the good times, the mutual affection that had strengthened with the years? Think of those who killed his master? Spend time in the arms of his wife – no, never that – his time with Padme was a time for joy, not sorrow. His insides churned with his thoughts. Every time he thought he had lost his master, he had found him and had rescued him. He knew as well as anyone that as often as not, he was merely rescuing his master from a situation he had himself created, often in direct disobedience of specific orders. His mechanical arm was a daily remainder of his impetuosity. Geonosis had left its mark on him in more ways than one. With “no, Anakin, no,” ringing in his ears, he had rushed in to engage Count Dooku and been easily thrown aside by Dooku’s force lightning, his every nerve smoking and frying from the bolts. Dazed, he could do nothing but watch as his master calmly faced Dooku, alone. “I can’t take him alone,” Obi-Wan had insisted, on the way, but on his own he was. He had fought well and bravely, but imprisonment and the earlier fight in the Geonosis arena had left their mark; Dooku’s unorthodox tactics proved too much. Anakin had almost lost his master then, when he lay helpless and wounded. Determination that he would not lose Obi-Wan brought him, fried nerves and all, to intersect the descending blade meant to take Obi-Wan’s life, until he, too, had been defeated. Yoda had saved them both, that day. In later years, Obi-Wan had been the bait, a potential sacrifice to the greater good that Anakin was determined would never be an actual sacrifice, in many of their more daring moves - the ones that had won them acclaim for bold tactics and Anakin the reputation of saving his master from more unhappy fates than any Jedi master should be forced to face. That he had put Obi-Wan in need of those rescues went unnoticed. This time, it was too late for a rescue. This time, Obi-Wan had died. Obi-Wan had trusted him to save him, which was he was so willing to put himself in peril that few would wish to, time after time. He had died, for his misplaced faith in Anakin. He owed it to Obi-Wan to stay. “No. I am needed here,” he declared. “Very well, stay you shall,” Yoda spoke up. “Your master – Obi-Wan was a good man and a good Jedi. Missed he will be. Remember that, and to uphold his training he would wish for you. May the Force be with you.” Anger rose within him; Anakin choked back the bile. Condescending little troll! Their beloved Obi-Wan Kenobi was dead – his beloved master was dead – and the only words Yoda offered was a reminder to live up to his dead master’s training. Obi-Wan had been quite fond of Yoda in his understated way; he had thought Yoda just as fond in return, but apparently Obi-Wan was just another Jedi, fallen in the service of the Republic, his death a source of regret but no real sorrow. “Master,” Anakin bowed his head, seething internally. He owed more than he had realized to Obi-Wan Kenobi. He hadn’t known just how much until he had lost him. He owed his master vengeance now. Vengeance was not forbidden; revenge was. Vengeance was his purpose. Obi-Wan Kenobi would be avenged and his padawan would be the one to administer justice. For the next few weeks and weeks stretching into months, that need was the only thing that drove him on. On an entirely different planet, one man’s ordeal had just begun. -----signature----- http://boards.theforce.net/fan_fiction_resource/b10304/25405090/p3/?52 Prolific Author thread: list & links there. Muse fueled by coffee. Often AWOL despite frequent sipping. Writes on inspiration, not a schedule. 2007-2008 the quality years
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Fifilla Registered: Mar '06	Date Posted: 1/29/07 5:14am Subject: RE: What the Heart Hides. Drama. Obi-Ani., Siriwan. Ch 2 posted 012907 Jabiim.
	Great description of Anakin's feelings! “The bond is fine,” he ground out. At their looks, he said desperately, “but it is. It’s quiet, too quiet, but it hasn’t been severed.” (...) His own mind hurt, his stomach churned and his heart cried, but the bond felt quiet, smothered as it were, not severed. The pain of Obi-Wan’s death was much as the pain of Qui-Gon’s death, or the death of his mother had been – an ache, a hollowness, a missing piece – but no searing brand scorched across his mind to mark the violent end of a mental bond as Mace seemed to think. So Anakin feels/knows that Obi-Wan isn't dead! -----signature----- "There's always a bigger fish." Fear Of Failure - young Qui-Gon (WIP) > http://boards.theforce.net/before_the_saga/b10475/27642896 Padawan to Valairy_Scot
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VaderLVR64 Title: Manager Emeritus Registered: Feb '04	Date Posted: 1/29/07 7:00am Subject: RE: What the Heart Hides. Drama. Obi-Ani., Siriwan. Ch 2 posted 012907 Jabiim.
	A heartbreaking chapter! You write these two so well! “Master,” Anakin bowed his head, seething internally. He owed more than he had realized to Obi-Wan Kenobi. He hadn’t known just how much until he had lost him. He owed his master vengeance now. Vengeance was not forbidden; revenge was. Vengeance was his purpose. Obi-Wan Kenobi would be avenged and his padawan would be the one to administer justice. For the next few weeks and weeks stretching into months, that need was the only thing that drove him on. On an entirely different planet, one man’s ordeal had just begun. Hurry up and update again soon! I want to know what's going to happen next! -----signature----- R.I.P John, Alex, Jason, and Christian Never forgotten Soldiers' Angels http://soldiersangels.org/ 2114 soldiers waiting for someone to care
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earlybird-obi-wan Registered: Aug '06	Date Posted: 1/29/07 10:00am Subject: RE: What the Heart Hides. Drama. Obi-Ani., Siriwan. Ch 2 posted 012907 Jabiim.
	Read the comic but this is so good describing Anakin's feelings. -----signature----- writer and Star Wars fan FANART [link=http://boards.theforce.net/fan_art/b10020/25793899]fanart[/link] stories in my bio
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dianethx Registered: Mar '02	Date Posted: 1/29/07 4:28pm Subject: RE: What the Heart Hides. Drama. Obi-Ani., Siriwan. Ch 2 posted 012907 Jabiim.
	Loved this. You have such a way with words that is really quite stunning - very visual, very emotional. I always feel wrung out when I'm finished with one of your posts - in a good way! The way Anakin realizes that Obi-Wan is gone, the way he keeps looking for him, even a piece of cloak or a lightsaber, something to tell him that Obi is either alive or dead. So very sad and realistic as well. Beautifully done. Loved this. Debris continued to rain from the sky: sizzling as the ever-present rain boiled and steamed from contact with molten metal arrowing into the mud and digging deep, sometimes burying itself in the bodies of the dead and wounded. What a wonderful description of what was going on and a terrific way to start the post. Bravo. -----signature----- Betrayal - http://boards.theforce.net/s/b1/10935143 updated 9/22/09 jedidas3's Master Merlin - Diplomatic Immunity - http://boards.theforce.net/nswff/b10808/30459852
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Jaded_Rose Registered: Nov '06	Date Posted: 1/29/07 5:09pm Subject: RE: What the Heart Hides. Drama. Obi-Ani., Siriwan. Ch 2 posted 012907 Jabiim.
	This is wonderful and absolutely heartbreaking. Your prose, especially about war and examinations on Obi-Wan's psyche, is beautifully written. Please, PM me when you update. J_Ro -----signature----- The pen is mightier than the sword, if it has been sharpened to a fine point, dipped in deadly poison and thrown from ten feet away. But really, you're better off with a sword. -America, The Book
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obsessedwithSW Registered: May '05	Date Posted: 1/29/07 6:49pm Subject: RE: What the Heart Hides. Drama. Obi-Ani., Siriwan. Ch 2 posted 012907 Jabiim.
	He is not dead he is with Asjji right? I am really enjoying this. Please pm me when you update. Thanks! -----signature----- Yes Darth Maul -bring sexy back! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JW8kOYvwVng Avid SiriWaner ! Stories in Bio
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barriss31 Registered: Apr '05	Date Posted: 1/29/07 7:39pm Subject: RE: What the Heart Hides. Drama. Obi-Ani., Siriwan. Ch 2 posted 012907 Jabiim.
	I do not think he is dead: 1)The bond is not severed just quiet, very quiet 2)On another planet another man's ordeal had just begun. But these two are just my humble opinions; my denial of Obi's death is neverending except for the part when there is only an old cloak left on the floor. That is pretty final, but vanishing into a puff of smoke in an explosion.........well that kind of put's a new twist on "going out in a blaze of glory". Oooh, that was just too corny even for me !!! Good writing, good storyline.
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