fragmentsofthegalaxy | Entries tagged with !thread

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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”.]

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.

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.

neverlosemyfocus

It was supposed to have been a simple mission. Reconnaissance. That was all. But it had ended with them running through the jungle and finding themselves in a battle with a rather large purple plant that, as they had learned firsthand, exploded in a shower of equally purple goo when stabbed with a lightsaber.

VIOLENTLY exploded. 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 the faintly luminescent purple goo.

She stalked up the ramp to their ship, squishing with every step and leaving a faintly glowing trail behind her.

neverlosemyfocus

The demon sat on the hood of her stolen truck, taking a long, distracted drag off the cigarette that she’d taken from the former driver. She was waiting. And normally she was patient about these things; it wasn’t like she didn’t have all the time in the fucking world, after all. But not today. Her brow furrowed, and she pressed borrowed fingers against her equally borrowed temple. “Shut UP,” she hissed, black eyes flashing. “You’re giving me a headache.”

Her host was fighting her. Again. STILL. Not that she wasn’t used to some kind of fight from the poor fucks whose headspace she used, but this one wouldn’t. Fucking. GIVE. UP. And it was pissing her off. None of her hosts’ had lasted this long. Or fought this HARD. Didn’t it just fucking figure that she had to go and choose the stubborn one. No matter. This body was hers in every way that counted, and her host would be broken, defeated, subsumed soon enough.

Until then, she would just have to cause her as much fucking pain and heartbreak as she could. And she knew just the way to do it.

There he is. Watch and enjoy, poppet. She hopped off the hood, crossing the distance between them unnoticed and slipping behind her prey. “Hello lover,” the demon wearing Siri’s face purred in Obi-Wan’s ear, dragging her tongue up the side of his face.

neverlosemyfocus

They’d found him. Somehow... they’d found him. Siri might have thought he was dead... if not for the fact that she would have known. Would have felt it. She was absolutely certain of that. Of course, there was the possibility that she was slightly unhinged, but she clung to the certainty that she would know if he had died with a desperate stubbornness.

He was alive. He had to be.

And the others had indulged her; they wanted him to have survived as much as she did. So they looked for him. And searched, and turned over every kriffing rock they could to try and find where it was that Anakin... Lord VADER had imprisoned Obi-Wan. On his master’s orders, or some twisted sense of revenge, she didn’t know. Maybe both. But the Sith had put him in prison, in the highest security facility that existed, currently.

When Vader had made a seething off-hand comment in the middle of an argument with Padmé in regards to Obi-Wan contradicting everything that he’d said before, everything they’d been told, it had been almost too much to hope that that was the truth. That she was right. It didn’t matter; they worked all the harder to hunt down traces of where he’d been taken. And even once they’d located him, it had taken time. Time to plan, to research and learn everything they could about the cage they’d trapped him in.

It had taken them too kriffing LONG.

She insisted on being the only one who went in. Some of them weren’t able to lay as low in this new life they’d carved out in the wake of the Empire’s creation; Padmé had it the worst, given she still served in the sham that remained of the Galactic Senate. Siri had to, and Ahsoka; it was dangerous to be a Jedi, now. But at least they’d managed to keep Rex’s continued existence a secret. At least for the time being.

She would take this risk alone. She had to.

Since the destruction of the Order she had learned how to hide herself, to conceal her Force presence so completely she didn’t even register to other Force sensitives, and innumerable other skills (not all of them Force-related) that had been a necessity in the galaxy they were left with. She wasn’t the same person she was before; none of them were. She wasn’t sure there was anything left of that Siri. Not anymore.

She had concealed her Force presence entirely; she couldn’t risk leaving any trace of herself that might give them away. The Mandalorian armour was still vaguely uncomfortable, still wrong-feeling, but another necessity; the helm hid who she was and distorted her voice enough to lessen the chances of recognition even more. Force, let him be all right. Let him be here.

PLEASE.

She stalked down the prison corridor, blue eyes scanning the cell numbers as she moved. They were running out of time. There. Holstering her blaster (it was almost as comfortable in her hands as a lightsaber, anymore; it had bothered her, in the beginning, but it was just another necessity. A way of life), she drew to a halt. “7213. Got it. Open the door, Artoo.”

The door hissed open in response and she slipped inside, her hand lingering near her blaster; this could be a trap. Vader could know, the Emperor could KNOW, this could be a trap... but there was no hesitation in her footsteps.

For him she would face anything.

neverlosemyfocus

It was agony.

So much had changed since her death; her almost death. Going to the Land of Make Believe, to Univille, the Warehouse, had changed everything. Had changed them most of all. They had exchanged vows, she’d taken his NAME, wore his ring as he wore hers... lived together as husband and wife, with every intention of spending the rest of their lives together.

And now they were back. Returned to their galaxy at the moment they were removed, memories intact. Force bonds intact. To an Order that still found attachments dangerous. WRONG.

Too much had changed; she could not conceive of setting aside her feelings for him, giving him up. She couldn’t. She wouldn’t. And, much to her relief... he felt the same way. So they... pretended. Hid what they felt in the Force, behaved as they had before their journey to another world. It hurt, FORCE, how it hurt, keeping her distance from him. She’d grown far too accustomed to his presence at her side. In her bed. Doing silly little things like curling up together on a porch bench enjoying a beautiful summer morning.

She’d never known longing quite like this.

They stole moments, when they could. With the ability to hide their presence, their emotions, in the Force, it made matters just a little bit easier. But FINDING moments to steal, in the Temple, with the war, their missions, was difficult. They were separated far too often. For far too long.

But they were Jedi, and they did what they must. They knew what was coming, now; maybe they could change it. Keep Anakin from Falling to the Dark Side. From becoming Vader. Keep Sidious from becoming Emperor. Whatever happened, she would be at Obi-Wan’s side this time. He wouldn’t go through it alone.

Duty didn’t make it any less painfully lonely, lying in bed in her quarters at the Temple, without him by her side. He was her husband... and she had to continually pretend that he was nothing more than a friend. And an often frustrating one at that; which he was, of course. Marriage hadn’t changed that. He could still frustrate her more than anyone in the galaxy. But he was so much more to her, as well.

And no one could ever know.

Which was why her next mission was a welcome one. A two Jedi team was being sent to a planet to investigate reports of a Separatist plot to take over the shipyards there. It was a deep space mission, and she was one of the Jedi assigned to investigate. The other... was Obi-Wan.

It was a long flight. They would be alone.

With no need to hide.

neverlosemyfocus

“What? No!” Siri’s voice was ragged, shock and disbelief at the verdict painfully open in her words. They’d found her guilty. No matter her protestations, no matter Obi-Wan’s protestations, Ahsoka’s, Anakin’s... they’d found her guilty. Said that the evidence spoke of her guilt. She was the culprit, there could be no other. As though she could EVER do such a thing to the Temple.

But they thought she had it in her. That she had Fallen, that she had Fallen so far as to attempt to destroy the one place she could call home. The one place she could belong.

Force, she couldn’t breathe for the ache in her chest. Her heart. Despair and desolation in equal measure overwhelmed her, and she gazed numbly at the ground, any more passionate words in her own defence dying in her throat. There was no point. They’d found her guilty. Guilty of treason, sedition against the Republic, murder... conspiracy to commit murder, escape from custody...

And the sentence was death.

She offered no resistance as she was roughly herded away by the guards, heedless of the injuries she’d suffered. She was stunned, her faith in the Order shaken, fractured.

Defeated.

They would claim, no doubt, that she put up resistance and they had to use force to subdue her when it came time for them to place the binders that would cut her off from the Force until her execution on her, but she didn’t. She couldn’t. No matter how much her instincts screamed at her to fight, to escape and prove her innocence... she couldn’t.

The Order had failed her. And that wound cut far deeper than any physical injury she could ever suffer.

The guards tossed her carelessly into her cell, and she could barely do more than clumsily try and take the fall as the hypo injection took hold, sending her spiralling into unconsciousness.

neverlosemyfocus

Siri never minded being assigned a mission with Obi-Wan. They weren’t always given the opportunity to work together on missions, so when it did occur she enjoyed it thoroughly. They’d been right; they did make a very good team. She trusted no one at her back more than him.

And their attachment, their relationship, never got in the way of what needed doing. They were professional, kept their personal matters private. Every so often, however, there were instances unrelated to the mission at hand that she was... more aware of than she meant to be. More aware of than she should be.

She’d known that there was a history between the two of them. When he was a Padawan he’d been assigned with Master Qui-Gon to protect her from the insurgents threatening her planet. But it became very obvious when they first arrived on Mandalore that Duchess Kryze was incredibly attracted to him. Possibly even loved him.

She wasn’t jealous. She didn’t doubt his feelings for her, or the strength of their relationship. They’d been together a very long time, now. Since they were Padawans. And she could never doubt him. The only time there had been doubts of any kind were when she had left the Order to go undercover with Krayn. She hadn’t been able to tell him of her orders. To tell him that she would have to leave.

Leave the Order.

Leave him.

There had been doubts, then. Her heart had broken, as she shouted at Adi and stormed out of the Temple. And it had broken further, when, two years after her leaving Krayn’s band of slavers crossed paths with a Jedi and his Padawan.

Obi-Wan. And Anakin.

The things he’d said to her, that they’d said to each other, had hurt in a way she couldn’t put into words.

That was the only time she’d doubted. But they’d found their way back to each other. He had her heart, and she had his. Forever. They’d gotten married, almost as soon as Anakin had been knighted. And unless it was required for an undercover mission, the simple silver band he’d given her on their wedding day didn’t leave her finger. She was wearing it now, the silver catching the light of the sun and glinting faintly.

It didn’t make watching the two of them any easier, sometimes. Watching the woman curl her hand around his arm, watching her press close to him when she thought no one was looking. She couldn’t help the sharpness of her tongue, sometimes; it didn’t affect the mission, however. Obi-Wan was the Negotiator. He handled the... personable aspect of things. He’d always been more patient than she was. So she would handle other aspects. 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.

Until then... she would simply have to watch Duchess Kryze throw herself at her husband.

neverlosemyfocus

Siri drew in a ragged, unsteady breath, disoriented and confused. She didn’t know where she was. Where she should be. The last thing she remembered...

Was...

Dying...

But she wasn’t. She was very much still alive. The pain was different than it had been. Should have been. It was still enough to steal her breath, but it felt... more like an echo of the agony she’d been feeling. Nothing more. Her eyes fluttered opened, and she looked up to see Obi-Wan, gazing down at her, his arms around her, warm and familiar. Memories came rushing back; ALL of them.

Waking in the Land of Make Believe. Finding Obi-Wan, and Anakin, and Padmé there. Learning of the future, the tragedy that came after her death.

Univille.

The Warehouse.

Their wedding.

She gasped, reaching up to cup his cheek with a trembling, unsteady hand, and she blinked in surprise. There on her finger, glinting faintly in the light, was a ring. A simple, silver band that Obi-Wan had slipped onto her finger only months ago. A ring that she hadn’t been wearing when this mission had started. She scarcely dared to hope, as her gaze moved from the ring, back to his eyes. Force, please let him remember... She could sense him in a way that she never had been able to, before Univille. Relief and joy in equal measure filled her chest as she grabbed a fistful of his robes and all but yanked him to her, kissing him fervently.

She could be wrong; there was the chance that he didn’t remember, that the bond didn’t care, Obi-Wan was Obi-Wan, and he would be pushing her away wondering what had gotten into her.

But that awareness of him made her reckless.

neverlosemyfocus

Once they were on the ship Siri withdrew to quarters, choosing a room that was as far as she could possibly manage from Anakin. From Obi-Wan. Krayn was dead. And while a sentient beings death never brought joy or elation, she couldn’t help but feel that his... had been an unavoidable one. It was over. After years... it was finally over. She no longer had to be Zora. She could let the persona go, release who she’d had to become to go undercover with Krayn’s organization.

No matter what she had done.

What she had had to do.

Her stomach turned, and she ran to the refresher, losing what little she’d eaten in the past seventy two hours. She felt... besmirched, filthy and unclean and as far from a Jedi as one person could possibly be. She’d done her job. She cut ties with the Order, let them say that she betrayed them, turned traitor, wormed her way into Krayn’s organization, until she was his right hand.

And now it was over.

But it wasn’t.

Three years.

Three years she’d been undercover with Krayn. She hadn’t been allowed to tell Obi-Wan when she left. And the Order didn’t bother to inform him. She’d had to let him think she’d deserted the Order. Deserted him. It had broken her heart to leave, and broken it further to know that he thought that of her. She had kept her love for him, and the heartbreak, and how much she missed him locked away, buried so deep she could barely find it...

Until the day she saw him again.

Force, why did it have to be him? Of any pair of Master and Padawan that could have crossed her path... why did it have to be them? And now, her mission was over, and she was trapped on a ship with them, as they returned to Coruscant.

Returned home.

Only she wasn’t sure she belonged there, anymore. Not with what she’d done, what she’d HAD to do, in order to maintain her cover. She didn’t know where she fit, anymore.

She hid it best she could, under sarcasm, a brittle sort of gaiety and sharp words. Irritation disguised a multitude of emotions. And she had taught herself much, during her time with Krayn. Hiding what she felt in the Force was only part of that. It was the only way she thought she might keep herself together during this trip.

Legs unsteady, she all but collapsed onto her bed, suddenly having trouble breathing. She fumbled for a pillow, curling up around it and burying her face in it as she struggled against the unexpected panic attack. She was safe here, now. She didn’t have to constantly guard herself, to watch her back every moment of every day.

She was safe.

It had been so long since she’d truly been safe that she couldn’t accept it so easily, couldn’t relax her guard. Not with everything else that had happened. She wanted this trip to be over. To learn from the Council what would come of her, and move on.

Learn how to accept what had happened between her and Obi-Wan.

Still struggling to breathe, she closed her eyes and clutched the pillow harder, as the loss of him, of missing him, filled her chest so tightly she ached with it.

Where did she go from here?

neverlosemyfocus

This was Siri’s first time on Naboo. Despite everything; the reason she was there, the turmoil of her thoughts... she found she liked it there. It was a beautiful planet, and its being so very different from Coruscant was something she sorely needed. But it was so... quiet. On Coruscant there had always been... noise, in the Force. So many sentient beings living in one place, there was no way to avoid it. On Naboo it was... almost silent, in comparison. And it wasn’t helping matters any.

She’d been keeping to herself more than she probably should have. But she wasn’t sleeping well, and there was so much she needed to figure out in her own mind that she found herself... withdrawing. There was no need for her to intrude on Anakin and Padme’s newfound ability to be open with their relationship. Their marriage. And Obi-Wan... well, there was a lot of confusion in relation to him. Confusion she would rather keep to herself until she’d sorted it all out. If she ever sorted it out. There wasn’t really any question what they felt for each other, their attachment. That had been made perfectly clear the night they... the night she took him to her bed. The night he came to her bed. But where did that leave them?

They weren’t Jedi anymore. They’d been expelled. They were exiles. Their agreement was, essentially, null and void. And she was... she was... Just because she was with child, and Obi-Wan was the father, it didn’t mean anything. It didn’t have to mean anything.

It felt... odd, being out of her robes. Not so much not wearing them; she’d done so before. But they weren’t hers to wear anymore. She wasn’t a Jedi. She would never wear them again. And that only added to the guilt and shame and unease. When Padmé had suggested that she try the style of clothing worn on Naboo she’d leapt at it, more because she’d needed to do SOMEthing; she would need clothes, after all, and the style was something she was familiar with.

Wearing it, however, was breathtakingly different. There was so much flowing fabric, and beading, and embroidery – it was so DELICATE. She felt awkward and out of place in it, but continued to wear it anyway. She needed to adapt. To accept what was, and this was a step. One of many she needed to take.

There was an area overlooking the lake that she had taken to walking. It was quiet, and peaceful... and absolutely beautiful. As she so often did anymore, she leaned against the cool stone of the railing and pressed her hands against her stomach. There was no physical changes, yet, none that were visible; it was too early for that. But there would be, soon enough.