Fragments of the Galaxy

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.