[The image shakes, as if the comm is being held by an unsteady hand--and there's Obi-Wan, his expression terribly blank.
He's cradling Bakura in the crook of one arm, wrapped in his cloak as if to keep him warm. The boy looks chalk-white, and it's pretty clear he's not breathing.]
My... [His voice is small and somewhat disbelieving.] My son...
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...I'm almost home. Oh god...oh god oh god...
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I'm on my way.
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I'm sorry.
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Yes. We we worked together.
I'm sorry.
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