Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Master Kenobi is reading flimsy books he doesn’t seem to like. Ahsoka can tell he’s not enjoying them. In fact, he seems almost infuriated by them, but he reads them anyway–whenever there’s a moment between battles in a campaign, or down time on shore leave. She even saw him sneak one into a council meeting once. She doesn’t know her grandmaster very well, it has only been a month or so since she was assigned to Anakin, and Obi-Wan by association, so it doesn’t feel right to ask him about it. So she does the next best thing.

“Hey Skyguy.” She tried to keep her voice casual.

“What Snips?” Anakin groans, his head lolling around to look at her. In hindsight maybe she should have asked when they weren’t both recovering in the medbay. She’s gonna chalk that up to the pain meds starting to kick in.

“Y’know Master Kenobi’s books?” She asked, determined to finish what she started.

Anakin’s brow furrowed.

“His books?” He repeated.

“Y’know,” Ahsoka gestured vaguely in the air with her hand. “The flimsy ones he doesn’t like”

Anakin’s mouth went slack.

“There are books Obi-Wan doesn’t like?!” He exclaimed.

One of the medics near Ahsoka huffed and she could feel the amusement flowing from him. At least they were entertaining to the men. 

“I guess?” She offered, “You know him better so I thought you knew,” she frowned trying to sort out if she had even said anything coherent.

Anakin recovered from his shock quickly and shrugged.

“Ask him,” he told her, slinging an arm over his eyes, “I don’t know a thing about books.”

The same medic coughed oddly. Ahsoka really needed to learn his name. She liked this one.

“But,” she began, “wouldn’t it be rude?”

“No?” Anakin replied in the same questioning cadence, “Why would it be?”

“Well…” She paused, “he is my grandmaster after all and I don’t really know him-”

“That’s stupid,” Anakin interrupted. “He practically adores you, just go ask him over tea. I bet he’d tell you anything you like.”

Ahoska blinked, and then blinked again.

“Master Kenobi-”

“Please! You’re family. Call him Obi-Wan, or grandmaster, or something less formal. And yes. All grandmasters love their grandpadawans! Even Dooku has a soft spot for him.”

“COUNT DOOKU IS OBI-WAN’S GRANDMASTER?!?!?!?!” Ahsoka screamed. The poor medic was so startled he dropped his holopad and Ahsoka was too preoccupied to continue asking about Obi-Wan’s books.

_________

“Rex will lead the main forces here to bait them.” Anakin pointed at a clearing in the forested area on the holomap. “You and I will lead a smaller group to come around and outflank them. As long as we’re not spotted, we should cut them down easily.”

Ahsoka nodded, following along as the holo map outlined the route her and Anakin would take. 

“Seems simple enough.” She agreed.

Anakin nodded and started shutting off the holo table.

“We’ll regroup after the battle and set up camp. It might be a bit messy with all the droid parts around, but it shouldn’t be a problem. After that, we’ll contact the locals for more information. Oh, and you’re having tea with Obi-Wan at 16:00,” he added.

“Wait, what?” She asked, confused. “Today?!”

“You had that thing you wanted to ask him about,” he reminded her, “Something about his flimsy books?”

“You remember that?” Ahsoka asked, genuinely surprised. Turns out the clones medics were still trying to figure out the right amount of painkillers to give force sensitives and that particular attempt ran a little on the strong side. Nothing too serious, but enough that Ahsoka couldn’t remember exactly what happened after asking about Obi-Wan.

Anakin squinted into the distance. 

“Vaguely,” he told her, then shrugged, “Anyway, he’s been asking to see you, and it would be good for you to spend time with him.”

Ahsoka glanced at her comm for the time.

15:35

“A little more warning would have been nice.” She drawled.

“What?” Anakin asked, “It’s just tea Ahsoka, it’s not like you need to dress up or anything.”

“No, not like that,” she groaned, “I meant time to mentally prepare.”

“Mentally-” he paused, “Wait, please tell me you’re not intimidated by his prowess as-” he raised his hands, “‘The Sith Slayer’ or ‘The Negotiator.’” He air quoted.

Ahsoka bit her lip. Okay, maybe she was a little star struck at the very impressive lineage she’d been brought into, particularly Master Kenobi. It was also a lot to live up to. She didn’t want to disrespect him, or make people think she took it for granted.

She must have been quiet for too long, because Anakin walked up closer to her.

“Snips, listen. I’ve seen this man throw bright pink socks into another knight’s laundry. Twice. Sure, he’s a skilled jedi, but he’s also just a guy.”

Ahsoka's eyes widened as she tried to process that piece of information.

Anakin sighed and ran a hand down his face.

“You worry too much,” he told her. “Just be yourself. He wants to spend time with you, not get hero worshiped.”

“But what if I mess up, or say something offensive?” Ahsoka blurted.

Anakin raised an eyebrow.

“Obi-Wan raised me. I think you’re safe on that front.” 

Ahsoka chuckled at that. It was nice to talk to her master outside the heat of battle, which wasn’t much these days. She hoped they’d get more time to just…be. Padawan and Master, together, like people were before the war.

 “Besides,” Anakin continued, “You’re his grandpadawan, you are literally golden in his eyes. You can do no wrong. I guarantee when you do something stupid he will find a way to blame me instead of you.”

“Don’t you mean ‘if’ I do something stupid?” Ahsoka asked, crossing her arms.

“Snips, if you never do anything stupid, I’m going to be very disappointed in you.”

She wanted to respond to that, but didn’t have time for an argument. She’d be late if she didn’t leave now. 

“Go on, you’ll be fine” Anakin urged, both with his word and with a gentle nudge through their training bond. It was a new sensation in her mind, but it felt comforting, even empowering.

With a quick nod and a smile she dashed off towards where she thought Obi-Wan’s quarters were.

_______

Ahsoka reached hesitantly for the door to knock, but pulled back and bit her knuckle. She did want to go, both to spend time with her grandmaster and to get her question answered. But she wasn’t prepared for a whole afternoon. She didn’t have any discussion topics. War made it hard to keep up with popular events or media, and her political knowledge was a drop in the ocean compared to Obi-Wan Kenobi. Maybe they wouldn’t talk about politics. Would he ask about her life? Should she ask about his? She wouldn’t even know where to begin with that. And she didn’t even know if she liked tea. Maybe it wasn’t too late to find an excuse to cancel, or at least reschedule till she was prepared.

In response to that thought she felt a strange mixture of fond annoyance and encouragement from her training bond. It was followed by a very forceful nudge towards the door. She took a deep breath and knocked on the door. Maybe she could talk to Obi-Wan about Anakin’s frequent and un-subtle use of their training bond.

There was a sharp muffled noise before the door slid open on its own.

“Come in my dear,” Obi-Wan called from somewhere unseen, “I’ll be with you shortly.”

Ahsoka tentatively stepped inside. 

She expected Obi-Wan’s quarters to be neat and orderly, the epitome of the simplistic jedi lifestyle. Instead there was an assorted pile of junk on the soft-toned rug, unfolded laundry on the lounging chairs, and various data pads laying on nearly every available table space. There was a collection of small duffle bags and backpacks near the door to the padawan quarters, which should have been empty since Anakin’s knighting. The exception to the messiness was two sitting chairs turned catty corner from each other with a small side table situated between them. There was also a surprising amount of potted plants and hanging ferns. Some looked better than others. The dining table beyond the living space had turned into a makeshift war room with various holomap disks and forgotten kaff cups cluttering the space. Something was burning. She almost hadn’t noticed it. It was a rather common smell these days.

“I’m in the kitchen,” Obi-Wan called. 

She walked forward in a trance, feeling like she was walking through the ruins of a once great civilization. These plants used to be green and alive with regular attention. People used to set this table and eat together. Maybe her master used to beg Obi-Wan to pull out that projector and sprawl out on the floor to watch his favorite show. She wondered what it was like, that last day Obi-Wan and Anakin spent in this home together before the worries of the war drove the comfort from this place, leaving something half as glorious, and nearly empty, despite the amount of clutter. 

She followed the voice to the kitchen where she found Obi-Wan pulling out a smoking tray of…something? He waved the smoke away and set the tray down on the stove.

“Sorry for the mess my dear,” he apologized, “I’m afraid between all these battles and war meetings I haven’t had a chance to tidy up.”

“It’s alright.” She replied automatically. What else could she say?

Obi-Wan smiled at her, a kind, tired smile. 

“I’m afraid my negligence has deprived us of tea biscuits,” He announced, waving over at the tray. Ahsoka stepped closer and laughed before she could stop herself. Each little rectangle of what she assumed to be ‘tea biscuit’ had shriveled up and blackened so badly it looked like Obi-Wan had pulled out a tray of steaming turds from the oven. Before she could cut herself off, she heard a melodious chuckle from beside her and something in her uncoiled. In the midst of all her nervousness, she had almost forgotten that she had already met Obi-Wan: the kind, sharp-tongued general who made war feel like a walk in the park.

“They are quite pathetic looking,” Obi-Wan admitted, rousing her from her thoughts,

“What happened?” Ahsoka asked as her giggles ebbed away.

“Well,” Obi-Wan placed a kettle on the stove, and turned on the burner, “It seems that Anakin has not gotten around to fixing the oven timer like I asked.” 

“Why don’t you put in a request with the quartermaster,” Ahsoka asked, hopping up to sit on the counter behind her. Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow, but didn’t object. 

“I typically ask Anakin to fix anything he can around the quarters,” Obi-Wan continued, opening a cabinet behind him and pulling out two large mugs. “He has a gift for tinkering, especially with machines, and well,” he turned to her with a wry grin, “sometimes I need to put him to work, he gets awfully fidgety when he has nothing to do.” 

“He hasn’t changed,” Ahsoka commented and Obi-Wan sighed fondly.

“Indeed not,” he replied, eyes turning sad, “Indeed not,”

A quiet moment passed where Ahsoka felt almost like an intruder. A chill traveled down her spine at her grandmaster’s near haunted tone. She shivered, and the moment broke.

“Blast!” Obi-Wan spat, so suddenly Ahsoka nearly jumped. He crossed the room in large strides to the thermostat, “My apologies,” He called back, and Ahsoka felt the room warm considerably, “I completely forgot togrutas are cold-blooded. Is that better?” He asked, turning toward her.

“Yeah,” she replied, “Don’t worry about it. It’s not something you’ve had to think about.”

Obi-Wan turned back toward her with a soft expression.

“I do want you to feel comfortable here, my dear.”

“Oh,” she smiled. “Thank-”

Something whistled near her, rising higher and higher in pitch. Ahsoka’s eyes widened. That meant it was getting closer.

“Get down!” She yelled, pushing off the counter and sprinting to Obi-Wan. She wasn’t sure what she was going to do when she got there. She couldn’t exactly tackle him. He was a lot taller than her. This ended up not being a problem since Obi-Wan grabbed her arm and dragged them under the table, no questions asked. She crouched there, hands over her montrails as the sound rose in pitch, waiting for the missile to hit. 

Obi-Wan was breathing heavily, she could hear him next to her. His emotions were suddenly loud in the force, not like the disciplined council member she’d come to know. For an agonizing moment the galaxy was frozen. Nothing was, except breath, and emotion, and the approaching missile.

The fear in the air tilted to confusion, and then the whistling stopped. 

There was no explosion, no scream of pain, no high pitched ringing in her ears.

“Ahsoka?” 

Obi-Wan put a hand gently on her shoulder. She tried to look up at him, but couldn’t move. She couldn’t peel her arms from over her head, or straighten her legs. It was like everything was locked in place, waiting, trapped, chained. 

“Ahsoka breathe,” Obi-Wan moved closer beside her and rubbed her back. She could feel his worry and confusion dissipate and replace itself with a calm steady presence in the back of her mind.

“It’s just the kettle, Ahsoka,” he told her, his voice tighter than she’d ever heard it, “Just the kettle.”

Ahsoka gasped as relief flooded her senses and tried to hold back a sob.

“I’m so sorry, little one,” Obi-Wan pulled her into his arms, and held her tightly, “It’s alright, you’re safe here.”

She buried her face into his robes and cried.

Chapter Text

In hindsight, Obi-Wan should have invested in an electric kettle. He should have bought one the first day after Melida/Daan, but he didn’t know then he’d be hiding under tables when all he wanted was a cup of chamomile. And when he did realize it, he saw his reaction as a weakness to overcome. So he bore the flashbacks, the jumpscares, and heart stutters until the sound drew nothing more out of him than a slight wince. It had taken years, but he was young; foolish enough to endure unnecessary pain, and optimistic enough to think he’d never need his battle trained senses to such an extent again. He was wrong. 

So no, it wasn’t the noise that had startled him, or at least not that noise. What had pulled him back to his lightning-quick response times were the words “ get down ” shouted at just the right cadence and just the right high pitch of a child. 

He doesn’t really remember pulling them both under the table. He doesn’t know how long he spent waiting in the same anticipation as Ahsoka, forgetting she was Ahsoka at all and not Cerasi or Deila. He doesn’t know what exactly brought him back to the present. An old leaf from the Troiken ivy plant lying still and brown on the floor. The initials carved on the underside of the table of rebellious padawans who’d come before him. A cold shift in the air, perhaps from a window he’d opened after he burnt the tea biscuits. It was one, any, or all of these things, or perhaps something else entirely, but it was certainly the mercy of the force. 

After a brief moment of getting his bearings he reached towards the stove and used the force to turn off the burner. The whistle died down and Obi-Wan felt himself breathe again. 

Until he turned around.

Ahsoka wasn’t moving, wasn’t breathing–arms over her head, crouched down into the smallest possible ball of lanky teen-aged togruta she could manage.

“Ahsoka?” he called, hopeful she was not as lost as she looked. He reached over to shake her into awareness.

 She didn’t move. 

“Ahsoka breathe,” he told her, scooting over to her. She radiated fear and distress into the force. Obi-Wan could feel it in the air around him like a smothering blanket, but, oddly, also pulsing inside him. Glancing at its source he found a flimsy tie of strings–the makings of a bond.
Well, that was going to be a different conversation, but not an entirely unwelcome one.

Rubbing circles into Ahsoka’s back he focused on releasing all of his negative emotions into the force and away from this fledgling bond. He spared a brief pulse of safety to Anakin who was, from what Obi-wan felt, speeding down the temple halls to their quarters. Hopefully, this reassurance would calm Anakin enough to give them some space. Busting into the room, lightsaber lit, wasn’t going to help the situation. That done, Obi-Wan tried his best to stay calm and solid as he smoothed out the messy reaching tendrils and entwined them with his own presence to solidify the connection.

“It’s just the kettle, Ahsoka,” his voice fell flat, but he couldn’t find any emotion to fill it with that would settle her, “Just the kettle.”

The words seemed to sink in and Ahsoka unraveled from her ball. He could feel the release of all the tension she had been holding inside her. The sorrow would come next. Overwhelming, heart wrenching sorrow. He wished he didn’t know from experience. He wished even more that Ahsoka could have been spared it. In this moment, there wasn’t a thing he wanted more in the galaxy than to take her pain away.

But he couldn’t.

So he gathered her close to him, to hide her from it all in the shelter of his jedi robes, much like Qui-Gon had done for him.

“I’m so sorry, little one,” he whispered, knowing that her montrals would pick it up clear as day, “It’s alright,” he told her, “You’re safe here.” And he meant it. Nothing in the galaxy could pry her from his arms right now. 

She was still in his grasp a moment.

Then she wailed.

He was buying an electric kettle.

_____

Obi-Wan had done his best to center himself while Ahsoka cried. It wasn’t easy. He constantly needed to make sure he was a steady presence for Ahsoka, but her need for him helped draw him from his many regrets. He had always dealt with his own problems more efficiently when someone else depended on him. Anakin was case in point.

After a while, Ahsoka’s tears petered out. She had wrung herself out, lying limp on his chest breathing easily, but not really present. She could’ve been asleep, but Obi-Wan felt her awareness through their bond. He tried speaking reassurances, rubbing her arms in an attempt to ground her, he even tried to sing whatever songs he could remember from the crèche, but she didn’t stir.

Obi-Wan was starting to regret sending Anakin away. He had gotten more and more panicked, so Obi-Wan had sent him to pick up food from Dex’s. He thought it would be for the best for them all to have something warm and slightly indulgent to eat after all this. But if Anakin were here, he could have found a way to pull Ahsoka out of herself. 

Instead, she had Obi-Wan.

“Come on, little one,” he stroked her montrals gently, “Focus on the here and now.”

That had been one of Qui-Gon’s mantras for him. He had found it rather annoying at first since his master had less trouble doing just that. But after time, he realized Qui-Gon was equipping him to battle his weaknesses. It was a kindness not easily spotted, but Qui-Gon was like that–doing the good things, teaching the hard lessons that no one would truly thank him for until after ten or so years. Now, with the war, Obi-Wan used that mantra almost daily. He had thanked his master for it in his heart many times, hoping the force would pardon his unorthodoxy and let Qui-Gon know his padawan was grateful to him.

“Here and now,” Obi-Wan muttered again, this time to both of them.

He needed to switch tactics. He tried to think through other ways to draw her out of herself. He could try to put on a holomovie. It helped with Anakin’s nightmares–drawing him into a different reality as a stepping stone to bring him back to the present. It was probably the best idea he’d had in the past five minutes, but to set it up he’d have to move Ahsoka and then clear space in the living room. He’d rather not do either of those things.

A suggestion, like an inaudible whisper, entered his mind. He sighed full of all different kinds of emotions swirling together into something he could not name. 

“I suppose they might as well be good for something,” he remarked dryly as he pulled out the current flimsy book he’d been reading from a large inside robe pocket. Flipping open to the marked page, he found where he’d left off and began to read aloud.

____

After about a chapter, Ahsoka shifted in his arms. She moved from his lap to curl up against his side. She didn’t say anything, but with a quick glance, both at her and her force presence, Obi-Wan could tell she was more aware than before. He wrapped an arm around her and kept reading. 

After another two chapters she spoke.

“This is terrible,” she told him, face scrunched in disgust.

Obi-Wan chuckled, half in amusement, half in relief.

“I’m not particularly fond of them myself,” he admitted

Strangely, Ahsoka perked up at that.

“Then why do you read them?” she asked earnestly.

Obi-Wan sighed deeply. He knew someone would ask eventually. He wished it wasn’t Ahsoka. Especially not in the midst of this.

“That might be best saved for another time,” he tried.

“No,” she protested, “Obi-Wan you don’t understand.” 

“Oh?” He raised an eyebrow waiting for her to continue.

“I’ve been wondering about those books for weeks ,” she explained, “You hate them. I can tell. If I don’t know why you keep reading them, I’m going to lose my mind.”

Obi-Wan was honestly a little surprised. He didn’t think most people would bat an eye over what he read, let alone that these books were not his preferred genre. Plo had mentioned in passing that Ahsoka showed promise in empathic capabilities. So perhaps that’s why she had noticed.

“Are you sure?” he asked, hoping she would say no, “I really don’t know if-”

“Please!” She looked up at him.

Force help him, she had tooka eyes. He was going to go extra hard on Anakin next sparring if he had been the one to teach her that. 

“They were a gift,” he explained, taking out the note he’d been using as a bookmark and handing it to Ahsoka, “From a clanmate.”

“‘ Happy Birthday Obi,’” Ahsoka read aloud, “‘ Sorry it’s a bit late. I wanted to give you these books because they made me think of you. I hope they can remind you that there are good things in the world and that I love you dearly. We’ll have to catch up soon so you can tell me what you think of them. Your Bantling.’” Ahsoka looked back up at him strangely. “Bantling?” she asked.

“A nickname from childhood,” Obi-Wan explained, “Her full name was Bant Eerin.”

“Oh…” Ahsoka looked down at the note with a new, solemn reverence, “I’m sorry for your loss.” 

“Thank you, my dear,” he tried to release his emotions into the force quietly. Digging up his grief was not going to help Ahsoka. She must have noticed anyway because she wrapped her arms around his middle and squeezed tightly.

“Can I ask what happened?” she said softly when she pulled away.

Obi-Wan let out a long breath.

“Her camp was attacked, she died in an explosion.”

“She died recently?” Ahsoka shuttered.

Obi-Wan nodded.

“She was stationed at a relief camp in the southern hemisphere of Christophsis, around the time we were there actually.”

“You mean we could have saved her?” Ahsoka asked, voice breaking.

“Ahsoka,” Obi-Wan pulled her closer to his side, “I didn’t even know she was there. By the time I found out the camp was attacked, she was already gone. There was nothing anyone could have done, not even us.” It was a well prepared explanation. He had practiced it to himself repeatedly on sleepless nights.

Ahsoka was quiet, looking back down at the note. Obi-Wan watched her intently.

“My clanmates-” She looked back up at him a little teary eyed and oh- his heart broke for this girl. “Some of them are going to die in this war,” she realized.

Obi-Wan couldn’t deny that. He wished he could. He would do almost anything to protect her from that pain, but he couldn’t.

“I’m sorry, my dear,” his voice was wet and a tear splattered on the open page, “I’m so, so sorry that war has come to you.”

Ahsoka curled up closer next to him and he squeezed her tightly.

“I miss the way things used to be,” She confessed, sounding much younger than she was.

“So do I.” Obi-Wan admitted, looking up at the table above them, “I miss the days of being a youngling, of my padawanship, even of Anakin’s apprenticeship from time to time.” He sent a pulse of humor to her with those words and she smiled softly, “But change is one of the few constants in life.'' He continued, “Each season of life has value, even the seasons we wish we never had to travel. If you learn to befriend it, and not resist it, you will find peace. The force wills us into the right path if we let it. Which means you are meant to be exactly where you are right now. And so am I.”

“What about Bant?” Ahsoka muttered, quietly.

Obi-Wan sighed a deep and heavy sigh.

“What happened to Bant was wrong,” he replied, “but the force works in mysterious ways. It helps me to think that there was nothing more the force had for her to do on the mortal plane, so it called her home.” 

He smiled down at her. It was true after all. Bant Eerin had done her best to do what the force willed. Even before the war she saved countless lives as a healer and in the quiet day-to-day moments she lived out kindness and compassion, a different kind of life saving. Obi-Wan was proud of her. Unspeakably sad, but proud.

“But-” Ahsoka sat up to look at him better, “Isn’t it cruel? That the force would take her away?”

“Hmm,” Obi-Wan hummed, “It seems someone has not been paying attention in Interpretations and Philosophies?”

“Master Tivari was drafted, and they never replaced her, so they canceled the class.” Ahsoka told him.

Obi-Wan sighed. Honestly, he worked with the most short-sighted people in the galaxy.

“Then I will teach you something you would have learned in that class.” Obi-Wan told her, sitting up a little straighter and crossing his legs. Ahsoka crawled to sit across from him and did the same. It was a common position to take when an elder passed on wisdom to one younger. Obi-Wan was glad to pass on what little knowledge he had. 

“What is the last line of the code?” He asked her.

“There is no death, there is the force” Ahsoka recited.

“This is true,” Obi-Wan affirmed. “Do you know what it means?”

“I-” she shook her head, “Master, there’s death all around us, how can there be no death?”

“Ah, but there is death,” Obi-Wan corrected, “The Jedi would be fools to deny it. What is meant is that in the force, death is without power.”

“Without power?” she echoed, incredulously.

“Death is separation.” He continued, “Spirit from body, a person from their loved ones, a soul from the force. But those who follow the will of the force are all connected by and in and through the force.”

“Then why do Jedi still die?” Ahsoka asked.

“We are luminous beings, but we dwell in mortal forms. We are subject to the laws of nature, that all things will die, but that separation is but a brief and passing moment.”

“What happens to us, then?” The words seemed to fall out of Ahsoka’s mouth in a mixture of pain and breathless wonder.

“According to the sacred texts,” Obi-wan began, “One day the force will call us all to itself and we shall all live together in forms that do not break, or wear down. And we shall live in and with and by the force, and there will be no more war, or sorrow, or death. And we shall all be one temple, one people, and the force will be with us. Always.” 

The air settled between them and silence filled the space. Sunset shone in from the windows beside them casting them into the glow of evening. The dust floating around them sparkled like stars.

“So because we’re one in the force, we’re never separated?” Ahsoka asked, hope welling over into their bond.

Obi-Wan nodded with a smile.

“Though Bant is not with us physically, she is here with us in memory and one day, when my own task is done, the force will call me home, and I’ll see her again. Then I can ask her why she thought of me when she read these blasted books.”

Ahsoka laughed, a sad joyous laugh that seemed to chase away the heaviness around them.

Obi-Wan smiled. 

Ahsoka looked down at the note one final time before handing it back to him.

“Was there a funeral?” she asked.

“Not yet.” Obi-Wan replied, tucking the note back in the book, “We’ve been having some difficulties with the logistics. It’s hard to get a hold of knights and masters who should be there. In addition, she died saving Jedi from a different temple so they’ve reached out asking if they can be involved in honoring her.”

“She saved another jedi?” Ahsoka’s eyes widened.

“Jedi from the Atlisian sect were doing relief work there.” Obi-wan explained, “They got trapped when the blockade started. Bant led three padawans away from the battle before they were caught in a stray explosion. Two of the padawans survived the blast with injuries and are recovering. The third is still missing, but likely survived.”

“She saved three padawans?”

“And many more civilians from the relief camp escaped because she led the way,” Obi-Wan said proudly.

Ahsoka looked down at the floor, thoughtful.

“If I die in this war, I hope I die like her,” she told him.

Never before had a sentence made Obi-Wan so very proud and so very terrified all at once. He paused to order his thoughts and emotions so he could respond well to her sentiment.

“It is not a bad thing to wish,” he told her, “but I hope you will never have to. I hope this war will be over before it’s truly begun, and that you,” he placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, “will do many more kind acts than Bant, and see many more years long after I am gone. To sacrifice in death is noble, but to live sacrificially is more difficult, more needed. If given a choice between the two I urge you to choose the latter.”

 Ahsoka nodded solemnly, considering his words.

“I will,” she told him with a strong finality.

Obi-wan smiled fondly.

“I know you will.”

Ahsoka smiled back brightly, before crawling back over to his side, once again. “Keep reading,” she told him. “Actually you should probably go back a bit, I don’t remember anything.”

“You want to hear the perilous trials of Tilli, Milli, and Rilli, and their outlandish dress shop?” Obi-Wan asked teasingly, even as he draped a warm arm around her.

“At least then you won’t have to bear this travesty alone,” Ahsoka replied, draping the side of his robe over her and looking up at him.

Obi-wan felt his heart pang a little.

“Indeed I won’t,” he murmured, before flipping back to the beginning and reading aloud again.

They never ended up drinking tea, or talking about any of the things Obi-Wan had planned to ask about, like her classes or how she was adjusting to Anakin as a master. But together, in the chaos and messiness of it all, they breathed, and found peace.

Somehow, everything was as it was supposed to be, and everyone was exactly where they were meant to be. But especially two particular souls, sitting on an unswept floor, under a dirty dining table, reading a mediocre book from a friend far away, and yet so near.