If they're searching for us they'll find us side by side

[neverlosemyfocus]

Siri sat in the cockpit of her ship, staring absently into space.

It had been weeks.

Weeks since everything had gone kriffing sideways. Weeks since she nearly died on Mygeeto. Weeks since she felt Ki-Adi Mundi die, and so many other Jedi. The injuries she’d suffered escaping her clone troopers burned white hot... but it wasn’t the physical pain that bothered her. She would survive it; Jedi healing was quite impressive, and even more so when shifted. It was the loneliness that threatened to break her. Jedi weren’t solitary beings. They weren’t meant to be alone.

But the pack bond was all but silent, now. And it ached with the pain of losing so many. SHE ached with it. It hurt far worse than her injuries ever could. Despite that, she ran, letting the Force guide her, the faintest sense of... something, someONE through the pack bond. A presence she was as familiar with as her own soul.

Obi-Wan.

He was alive.

And THAT gave her hope. Although she didn’t dare breathe it aloud, acknowledge it, until she saw him, truly saw him for herself. She NEEDED to see him for herself. So she ignored the pain, ignored the aching loneliness where there used to be so much life, and piloted her ship towards that flicker of presence. Towards Obi-Wan.

Towards Tatooine.

Her approach that was probably more rapid than was entirely safe. But her ship was in the sort of shape that she’d rather land as quickly as possible. And the sooner she landed, the sooner she would find him.

Breathing a soft sigh of relief once she set down on the planet’s surface, she undid the harness strapping her in and struggled to stand. Force, she hurt. But she couldn’t stop. Not yet. She didn’t dare shift, either; her landing had been witnessed, and a large wolf disembarking would look incredibly suspicious with no one else onboard.

So she pulled the hood of her cloak up and limped slowly, carefully, down the landing ramp, keeping her head down and her cloak drawn around her as she blended easily into what she supposed would be considered a crowd on Tatooine.

It took a considerable amount of effort not to hurry. But she walked, winding her way towards her destination. There would be no stopping until she reached him.

The heat was exhausting, but she pressed on. She needed to see him. She just... needed HIM. Until his presence bloomed, warm and familiar in the Force, through their pack bond.

And she ran.

A huge wolf loped towards her and as soon as they were within distance she flung herself towards him, clutching at him, clinging to him. The movement made agony spike, sharp and blinding, and she muffled her keen of pain into his fur. He curled around her, and they stayed like that for a long moment, crumpled together in the sand.

He was alive. Force, he was alive.

Somehow, they dragged themselves up out of the sand, and started the long journey towards the small building on the horizon. They stayed close to each other, unconsciously, and she carded her fingers through his fur. The sorrow and horror and loss and home that rolled over her through the Force and their bond was intense, and undercut by a sharp, desperate pang of want that made her shiver. He pressed against her hip and looked up at her, vaguely apologetic. You have nothing to apologise for, she sent instantly, without hesitation, carding her fingers through his fur again. It was his turn to shiver, and he didn’t move from her side until they reached his home.

It was small, and minimal, with the main room serving as both living area and bedroom, the kitchen up a small step or two. But it was out of the sun, and it was safe.

He caught her sleeve between his teeth and dragged her towards the only bed. She shook her head, digging in her heels. “I won’t kick you out of your bed, Obi-Wan.” She’d seen that answering look on his face, both human and wolf, a thousand times before, and he only pulled harder on her sleeve. Still gently, but insistent and refusing to back down. “Fine,” she sighed, letting him pull her the rest of the way.

It was a surprisingly comfortable bed, and the moment she sank down on it she was fairly certain she wouldn’t be getting back up for quite some time. He nudged her good shoulder with his nose, and she lay back. It was only when he joined her that some of the tension eased out of her, and she curled up against him, arm flung around him as she breathed in the scent of him.

He was home. He’d always been home.

Finally, she slept.

Siri woke to a now-human-shaped Obi-Wan entwined with her, his nose buried in the crook of her neck. Despite herself, she traced the lines of his face with an unsteady finger; he blinked blearily at her, stirred awake by her touch. Her eyes were drawn to the thick bandages wrapped around his neck, her fingers moving unconsciously to brush the edges of it. There was only one thing those bandages could mean. One creature that would attack in such a fashion. SITH. “Oh, Obi-Wan,” she breathed softly, feeling him tense against her. He watched her warily, something akin to fear in his eyes. Did he think she would run from him? Force, she could sooner run from herself. She cradled his cheek with her hand, leaning forward and pressing a gentle kiss to his lips.

Then his cheek.

Then the bandages on his neck, feather-light. He exhaled raggedly, bringing a hand up to touch her lips, before sliding into her hair. “Sleep. I’m not going anywhere.” You’re stuck with me. She kissed him again, because their Order had been razed to the ground, their fellow Jedi slaughtered where they stood... and all the reasons why they’d given each other up seemed kriffing pointless, now.

He kissed her like he needed her to breathe, wrapping her in his arms and pulling her close. It was her turn to tuck her nose into the crook of his neck, pressed as tightly against him as she could, letting the warmth of him, the scent of him, lull her back to sleep. But she didn’t drift off until he did.

This hopelessness that drowns all that I believe

[neverlosemyfocus]

Siri debarked her ship wearily, determination and stubbornness driving her on as she stepped silently onto Temple ground for only the second time since.... Since. She hadn’t wanted to return to the Temple at all, but it had become a necessity. She was running herself ragged, she was all too aware; even the Force wasn’t enough to keep her going indefinitely. She was pale, drawn, her features more angular than they had been; her appetite had been all but nonexistent for quite some time and she wasn’t fit for company much anymore. She was irritable, her tongue more sharp than usual. But she wasn’t important. What was important was her mission. Self-assigned though it might be.

Nothing. Obi-Wan had been missing for... MONTHS too kriffing long. And still NOTHING. Nothing concrete. Rumours and whispers and hearsay. Even with the Force guiding her steps, telling her that he was alive, that he needed her, needed THEM, there was nothing concrete to lead her where she needed to go.

Not yet.

So she kept searching.

He was alive. There was no doubt in her mind. She would KNOW it if he were dead. So she would search until she found him.

Master Windu was waiting for her as she moved deeper inside the Temple, and she tensed. She was not in the mood for the argument that was to come. And she knew it was coming; the look on his face told her all she needed to know.

“You need to stop this,” he told her without preamble. “Obi-Wan is dead. You must accept that.”

She looked at him, jaw set. “No, Master Windu, I need to do no such thing.” She kept moving. If he wanted to do this he would have to keep up. Which he did. Unfortunately.

“It’s been MONTHS. This is pointless. You’re needed here; personal missions aren’t what being a Jedi is.” And before she could interrupt him he continued. “If this has to do with your feelings for him...”

She came to a halt, pivoting sharply towards him. “My feelings towards him? This has nothing to do with anything resembling attachment, and everything to do with the fact that he would do the same if it were any of us!” There was no denying that however much she’d tried to put her feelings for Obi-Wan Kenobi aside, she’d failed. But that wasn’t the driving force behind her search. Her feelings didn’t matter. What mattered was the man they’d lost. She stepped forward, going toe to toe with him without thinking. “He’s been the grasp of Maul and his brother for MONTHS. You know how much Maul hates him. His suffering is beyond anything we can imagine.”

Exhaling raggedly, she turned on her heels and stalked down the corridor. “I’m going after him, Mace. You can’t talk me out of this.”

He didn’t follow her. Thank the Force. She was at a loss, as she wandered the Temple. She wanted to be back out there, searching for him, following what little she had to go on to try and find him.

Before it was too late.

But it would take time to refuel her ship, and she needed to... accept that. She couldn’t make it go any faster. Down time would be hers, whether she wanted it or not. But perhaps she could put it to use. Dex. She needed to visit Dex. If anyone might have heard something, it would be the Besalisk. He’s become a very good friend, since...

Since.

I hope there is away to give me a sign you're okay

[neverlosemyfocus]

It had become habit to take the long way back to the small set of rooms she had in the undercity, to ensure that no one followed her and if they had, to either lose them or deal with them. They all lived scattered through the undercity, now, Ahsoka, Rex, Fives, Anakin... all except Padmé, who continued to live in her flat at the Senate Apartment Complex. In order to keep up appearances. It was the best place to hide in plain sight, on Coruscant, and they were living closely enough to reach each other quickly should the need arise, but distant enough to avoid drawing too much attention.

Siri stepped inside, and as the door hissed shut behind her, she sighed wearily. She felt OLD, and worn, and exhausted beyond belief. She hated this. Dooku was Emperor, ruling the galaxy with an iron fist, and they could do NOTHING. Sowing the seeds of rebellion took work, and they were doing everything that they could...

But it didn’t feel like enough.

It WASN’T enough.

Force, how had it come to this?

Un-strapping the blaster from her hip and leaving it on the table within easy reach she started for the ‘fresher, beginning to disrobe as she moved; peeling off the clothing more suitable for a smuggler than a Jedi, peeling away the layers of her alias until it was just... her.

She began disrobing, un-strapping the blaster from her hip and beginning to peel off the clothing more suitable for a smuggler than a Jedi, peeling away the layers of her alias until it was just... her. Leaving her blaster sitting on the table within easy reach, she started for the ‘fresher.

All my fear is coming home and it's ripped out from the soul

[neverlosemyfocus]

It was only Obi-Wan’s softly spoken murmur of her name that kept Siri from acting rashly. The grip on her lightsaber was white knuckled under her leather glove, and she almost vibrated with tension, the desire to move, to attack, to hammer at Opress until he was defenceless.

Maul looked between the two of them, laughing humourlessly. “You shouldn’t have come, Kenobi.” His voice was mocking. “Your emotions betray you. Betray your attachment.”

She moved to attack, then, despite her better sense, despite Obi-Wan; he wasn’t the brother she wanted, he wasn’t Opress, but he was in her way and he was using her to bait Obi-Wan. She should have listened, should have waited, should have kept her emotions in check, because Maul was expecting it. He was expecting her to move, to attack, and he lunged at her, flinging her backwards with the Force. Opress moved to intercept Obi-Wan, to prevent him from interfering.

She slammed into the wall, barely able to bring her lightsaber up in time to deflect his Darksaber.

The fight was vicious, and brutal, and it ended with Siri arched backwards by the grip Maul had on her throat with the Force, the blade of his Darksaber so close to her neck that it burned, blood from the injuries they’d inflicted on each other pattering onto the ground.

Her lightsaber lay where it had fallen from her hands when the Zabrak had Force choked her and knocked it from her grip.... it lay at Obi-Wan’s feet.

“And now the perfect tool for my vengeance is in front of us,*” Maul snarled, his grip on her throat tightening, and she couldn’t swallow the strangled, breathless gasp. “I never planned on killing you. But I will make you share my pain, Kenobi.*”





[* Dialogue taken from Star Wars: The Clone Wars, Season 5, episode 16 “Lawless”.]

I still taste you kissing my pain away

[neverlosemyfocus]

Siri hadn’t thought it would be this difficult. It wasn’t as though she hadn’t had to watch women flirt with Obi-Wan before; he was the most attractive man she knew, and it was no surprise that others could see it. But it hadn’t... BOTHERED her. Not in this way. Not this intensely.

Not until they were assigned to Mandalore to protect Duchess Kryze and to investigate who would want to see her dead. She’d known the woman had a history with Obi-Wan, had heard that she’d been attracted to him when he was a Padawan assigned with Master Qui-Gon to protect her from the insurgents threatening her planet... but what she hadn’t known was that that attraction hadn’t faded. And the woman made no kriffing effort to hide it.

The invitation for a tour through the gardens before lunch was, she had no doubt, an invitation intended for Obi-Wan only. But he’d turned, given her that smile that made his blue eyes light up and made some comment about how she could see how it compared to the Room of a Thousand Fountains. And she’d found herself trailing after the two of them, a captive audience to the Duchess’ attempt at seduction.

It wasn’t that she was jealous. Far from it. She didn’t doubt his feelings for her, or the strength of their relationship. They had been through so much, and their relationship wouldn’t falter. And it certainly wouldn’t falter due to the tactless attentions of one woman. But it hurt, to watch another woman so casually and openly touch the man that she loved. The man that she was married to. In a way that she couldn’t. Not if they wanted to remain Jedi and have a better chance to change the future.

So watching the duchess hang on Obi-Wan’s arm, pressing close to him, touching his shoulder... his cheek, broke her heart far more deeply than she could have ever anticipated. But she hid it in the Force, focusing on the mission. On her duty. There would be time enough for stolen moments together on their flight back to Coruscant.

Until then she would simply have to endure Duchess Kryze shamelessly throwing herself at her husband. Did the woman honestly think it would work? That he would leave the Order for her? That was an impossibility.

There was reason enough for her to go off on her own, at least. Gathering information. Listening to whispers. She could blend in well enough with the Mandalorians if she changed out of her unisuit and left her cloak and lightsaber behind. It would involve the proper style of clothing and hair, but that was an easy enough matter to take care of.

She frowned and drew to a halt, head tilted as she listened carefully to the Force. Its warning. Kriff. “Stay with the Duchess!” she shouted, pivoting sharply and drawing on the Force as she raced towards the danger.

Only she wasn’t quick enough.

The force of the explosion flung her across the garden.

I was desperate to hold you again

[neverlosemyfocus]

Back pressed against the wall of an unused and untraveled alcove in the Temple, Obi-Wan’s body warm against her, with her hands tangled in his hair and his lips on hers, Siri was, for the first time since returning from her last mission, at ease. It was kriffing dangerous, a risk they knew they shouldn’t take, but the longer the war went on, the longer they fought, watching – SENSING – combatants and innocents alike hurt and dying, the more difficult it was to keep their distance. To suffer the physical and mental toll alone.

After experiencing so much death and sorrow... they NEEDED the few painfully brief moments’ of solace in each other’s arms that they could steal. She let herself get lost in the warmth of him, the taste of him, his presence surrounding her in the Force.

He was still alive, and so was she.

But the weight of the war, of what they knew of the future, was wearing on them both, and she missed him. Missed this. Missed his embrace, his company. Her quarters were too empty without him.

She deepened the kiss, pulling him closer.

It's the last night on earth before the great divide

[neverlosemyfocus]

Siri’s footsteps carried her down the hallways of the Temple, stride purposeful. It was exhausting, living the way they were living. Constantly hiding what they felt for each other in the Force. Pretending that they were nothing more than friends. And then he’d come to her. Telling her of the Council’s intentions for him. They had assigned him a mission. And it began with his faking his death, and using it to go undercover.

He was supposed to tell no one… but he’d told her. Even if he hadn’t, she would have known the lie of it, when it happened. But he’d come to her quarters, kissed her like he was drowning, and told her everything.

It was dangerous, what she was doing. The decision she’d made. But there was no other decision she COULD make. She would make no other decision. She would not be kept from her husband. She didn’t care that they were in the Temple. She would not be kept from him. Especially not the night before he left on a dangerous mission.

So she made her way to his quarters, and, after making sure the hallway was empty, let herself inside.

Bad news

[neverlosemyfocus]

Siri sat sprawled in the farthest corner booth in the bar, fingers tapping impatiently along the rim of the untouched drink sitting in front of her. Obi-Wan had asked her to meet him there, and she had agreed without hesitation. There had been something in his voice… to anyone that didn’t know him, he would have sounded fine. But she DID know him, she knew him better than anyone, and to her he had sounded… devastated.

So she waited. And worried. Not that she’d ever admit that out loud.

The moment he arrived she knew she was right to worry. He strode through the bar, ignoring everyone and making a beeline straight for her. They’d always had the odd ability to do that, to find the other in a room no matter where they were. He reached her booth, picked up her drink and knocked it back in a single swallow before letting the now-empty glass thud back to the table to reach for her hand. Tangling his fingers tightly with hers he pulled her from the booth, towards the nearby store room.

Fuck. What had happened?

The moment the door to the store room closed behind them his hands were cupping her face and he was kissing her fervently, like he was fucking drowning and she kissed him back, because she didn’t know what had happened and it didn’t matter; he needed her. He broke the kiss with a ragged gasp, clutching her tightly and drawing her against him. He pressed his forehead to hers and closed his eyes in anguish; he was shaking, fuck he was shaking, and she slid her arms under his leather jacket and held him tight.

“Qui-Gon is dead,” he murmured brokenly, and she felt her world shift. NO.

“What? Fuck, Obi-Wan, I…” I’m sorry seemed so fucking trite. Pointless. She cradled his face with her hands. “What do you need?”

“This. You.”

“Always.” They’d been something of an on-again/off-again couple, with on-again always seeming to happening whenever they were in the same place at the same time for any amount of time whatsoever, no matter how much they tried to avoid it, or deny it; hunting wasn’t exactly a business conducive to a serious relationship. Or any relationship at all, really.

But they always came back to each other.

Don't leave me here so cold

[neverlosemyfocus]

Siri was fraying at the edges, and she KNEW it. But she couldn’t stop it, didn’t know HOW to stop it. She was alone inside her mind for the first time in... too long. But what the demon had done while wearing her skin remained; she’d been there, been conscious and aware the entire time. And she REMEMBERED every act taken. She was no longer possessed, but the demon had left wounds in its wake.

She’d made the mistake of sleeping, that first night after Obi-Wan had performed the exorcism that had freed her from the demon’s possession. She’d woken shrieking at the top of her lungs, and somehow made it to the bathroom before retching. There wasn’t anything in her stomach for her to LOSE except water, but the heaving wracked her body until she was exhausted, collapsed over the sink with the taste of bile on her tongue.

Since then she’d avoided sleep entirely. She was living on coffee, the strongest and most caffeinated she could brew; her appetite was nonexistent and she barely managed to keep the coffee down most of the time. And she managed that through sheer determination.

She was currently curled up in the window seat, dressed in a thick, overlarge sweater that belonged to Obi-Wan and a pair of loose cotton pants, with a warm blanket wrapped around her as she sat in the sunlight streaming through the glass. She was cold more often than not, anymore, and had taken to keeping her flat warmer than usual. But it wasn’t enough. So she wore sweaters and kept blankets within easy reach.

Curling unsteady hands around the large coffee mug Obi-Wan had given her as a gift some time ago, she took a long swallow of the steaming, potent beverage, before setting it on the windowsill, closing her eyes and resting her head against the arm of the window seat.

Fuck she was exhausted.

He's never going to get the mess out of the carpet

[neverlosemyfocus]

It was supposed to have been a simple bit of reconnaissance. That was all. But it had ended with them running through the ruined skeleton of a warehouse and finding themselves in a battle with a rather large nest of monsters that, as they had learned firsthand, died in an incredibly messy fashion. An explosive sort of fashion.

VIOLENTLY explosive. All over them.

Over HER.

Somehow she’d managed take the brunt of it. And what made it worse was that Obi-Wan had one splotch of the stuff on him. ONE. Siri wasn’t amused. AT ALL. She might have been, if there hadn’t been so much of it on her. She was soaked from head to toe in sticky, vaguely gelatinous monster goop that smelled of brimstone.

She stalked into Obi-Wan’s apartment, squishing with every step and leaving a repulsive, mucky trail behind her. It was his fault, she had decided, the least he could do was let her clean up at his place.