Fic: Reflections and Friends - Star Wars The Clone Wars
Title: Reflections and Friends
Author: immertreu
Word count: ~1570
Post-Kadavo: Obi-Wan returns to the fleet. R2-D2 and Anakin worry about their friend.
A/N: Inspired by the episode "Escape from Kadavo” (Season 4, Episode 13)
Big thanks to my beta IcyWaters86!
Reflections and Friends
by immertreu
July 15-18, 2015
Anakin pretended not to notice when Obi-Wan quietly separated from their group and wandered off after their talk with Roshti had finished. The older Jedi appeared to be fine - dirty and shaggy appearance notwithstanding - but his imprisonment and enslavement on Kadavo had clearly left its mark.
The young Jedi would never shame his former Master by acknowledging that Obi-Wan, too, had his limits, and they never talked about their feelings anyway, but maybe he could make sure that the older Jedi didn't do anything foolish right after his harrowing experience. He looked for R2-D2 and noticed that he needn't have bothered - the little astromech droid was already rolling along happily behind Obi-Wan's retreating back.
Artoo was far more clever and emphatic than people gave him credit for. And the small mechanical being was a “him”, no doubt about that. Anakin knew that his old mentor liked their dome-shaped companion as well, despite Obi-Wan's constant admonishments that he was “only a droid, Anakin!” - usually accompanied by a long-suffering, untruthful sigh of despair. Therefore, Anakin felt Obi-Wan to be in good hands - or rather grapplers - when said man and Artoo disappeared behind a crate of medical supplies still waiting to be distributed.
Obi-Wan had noticed Artoo following him, of course, but his stern look to turn back was lost on the little guy. Naturally, the Jedi Master concluded. The astromech was very good at channeling Anakin's stubbornness and persistence - or should he say mulishness? Snorting softly, Obi-Wan sat down on a convenient stool parked behind the stack of crates the two of them had just passed, and waited for his silent shadow to reappear by his side.
Artoo didn't disappoint. He rolled up to his owner's oldest friend and softly nudged one of his booted feet. He beeped a short query and swiveled his head to observe the human with his single photoreceptor.
Obi-Wan smiled in response, but the expression couldn't mask the tiredness and the pain still etched onto his pallid features. “I'm fine, Artoo,” he insisted nonetheless, knowing it to be true - eventually. He had finally left his voluntary shackles behind and managed to free the slaves he had sworn to protect by any means necessary. Even if it meant appearing broken and desolate to anyone except Captain Rex.
The loyal clone trooper hadn't once wavered or left his general's side during their ordeal. Obi-Wan planned to give him a glowing recommendation - later, when this whole mess lay behind them and everyone had been restored to their rightful place. Right now, the clone was being treated for malnourishment and the chronic abuse that had been so much harder on him without the aid of the Force.
Artoo wasn't convinced by the human's statement. He burbled softly and added a few questioning notes.
Obi-Wan couldn't understand him as well as Anakin who seemed to be able to even think in binary, but he got the gist of the worried query. The astromech's insistence earned him another, more heartfelt smile.
“Really, Artoo,” Obi-Wan drawled. “Why don't you go and pester Anakin and Ahsoka? I'm sure they have a lot to say about your bravery.” Not that he would ever let his former Padawan hear him talking to a droid like this.
Artoo stayed put, moaning softly.
Obi-Wan grew serious again. He extended a still-dirty hand and patted his friend on his dome-shaped head. “Thank you. I know you did your best out there. And I really am fine. My path was just slightly more difficult that I had anticipated this time.”
The droid uneasily rocked from one heavy foot to the other, confused by this admission, until Obi-Wan finally stilled his movement with a piercing glare that stood in stark contrast to his rugged appearance. Artoo hooted in approval at the sign of such life and strength. The human would be fine indeed. After a thorough cleansing and some repairs. No, that wasn't right. He hummed to himself until he found the words he was looking for: Medical attention was needed here.
Artoo looked Master Obi-Wan over one more time, taking in the hunched shoulders that were symptoms of severe back pain and a crick in the neck, the shaggy hair and beard - and wasn't Obi-Wan constantly nagging Master Anakin about getting a decent haircut? - but also the clear eyes, the gentle smile just lurking at the corners of the Jedi's mouth, and the air of confidence that still clung to the damaged body.
He didn't pretend to completely understand human behavior and the needs of his non-mechanical companions, but Artoo possessed sufficient data to be satisfied by what he saw. No permanent damage had been done. Artoo chirped happily, performed one encouraging pirouette for his audience of one, and started to roll back the way he had come. Master Anakin was probably looking for him by now.
Obi-Wan watched the little droid go and hid a smile behind his too-long beard. “Thank you, Artoo,” he murmured again, certain that his little friend's fine-tuned sensors had picked up the sentiment. He decided to stay hidden for just a few more moments to take a deep breath. The medical crew would be pestering him soon enough. He wasn't looking forward to the meeting anyway.
Yes, the living conditions on Kadavo had been uncivilized, and the treatment had been even harsher, but there was nothing done to him - in body or spirit - that couldn't be fixed. He just needed some fresh clothes, a long shower - and a trimmer for his hair and beard. Some real food might be nice, too, because the Force could only sustain the body for so long. And afterwards a long meditation would be in order.
First he needed to get rid of his watchdog, though. Anakin, who had sent Artoo on his way with an audible pat on his white-and-blue dome, didn't even bother to try to hide his presence on the other side of the stack of supplies. So it was to be one of those days, wasn't it?
Obi-Wan shook his head in a mixture of annoyance and amusement and called out to his friend. “Anakin, stop loitering there as if you were invisible. I am not a bothersome youngling that needs looking after.”
His former student turned the corner, not even trying to appear chagrined, and smiled grimly. “You will forgive me my unbecoming curiosity,” he said unapologetic. “I'm just waiting for you to get back on your feet so I can send you to the med-center.” After a beat he added, “You look like hell. Master.”
There was no malice in his words, just well-meant worry, but they grated on Obi-Wan's high-strung nerves anyway. “You do know I can take of myself, right?” he sighed, annoyed by his friend's smug posture and misunderstood silent glare. He immediately held up a hand in apology and continued before Anakin could come back with a caustic retort that would just lead to another of their infamous arguments about nothing. “I am sorry, Anakin,” he said and allowed a little bit of his weariness to creep into his voice. “I just need a few minutes without disturbances before I submit to yet another round of well-meant poking and prodding.”
This admission spoke volumes about the real extent of Obi-Wan's injuries and tiredness. His former Padawan nodded in understanding and decided not to comment on it. Instead he turned to go, but he couldn't resist leaving behind one last admonishment. “Just make sure you really end up with the med-crew or I'll have to drag you there myself.” Then he departed as silently as he had appeared.
Obi-Wan couldn't let him have the last word. “Only in your dreams, my very young friend,” he said. He knew that Anakin had heard when the younger Jedi just shrugged and kept on walking with a jaunty spring in his step. Oh yes, they were both looking forward to their next encounter in the dojo. But when Obi-Wan finally got up a few minutes later, he had to ruefully admit to himself that Anakin may have been right. For once, the junior Jedi may be able to drag his former Master anywhere he wished without a serious fight.
Obi-Wan's head hurt in constant migraine now, his joints - formerly lubricated by adrenaline and the fight for freedom - had finally stiffened up, and his back and shoulders that had tasted the slavers' energy whip far too often burned like fire. Therefore, he wasn't overly surprised when Anakin waited for him just inside the corridor leading to sick bay, with Artoo by his side and Ahsoka rounding the opposite corner.
Not wanting to make a scene and unhappy about this unseeming display of caring, Obi-Wan simply walked by them and continued on his way. And if the soft footfalls of two fellow Jedi and the muted whirring of one little astromech droid following him made him feel better while walking to his imagined doom, who was there to judge him?
The Force was compassion. And so was acceptance.
For a fleeting moment, Obi-Wan thought he felt the once-familiar weight of a broad hand coming to rest on his shoulder - and then that moment had passed and only Obi-Wan and his friends remained.
It would have to be enough.
The End
Author: immertreu
Word count: ~1570
Post-Kadavo: Obi-Wan returns to the fleet. R2-D2 and Anakin worry about their friend.
A/N: Inspired by the episode "Escape from Kadavo” (Season 4, Episode 13)
Big thanks to my beta IcyWaters86!
Reflections and Friends
by immertreu
July 15-18, 2015
Anakin pretended not to notice when Obi-Wan quietly separated from their group and wandered off after their talk with Roshti had finished. The older Jedi appeared to be fine - dirty and shaggy appearance notwithstanding - but his imprisonment and enslavement on Kadavo had clearly left its mark.
The young Jedi would never shame his former Master by acknowledging that Obi-Wan, too, had his limits, and they never talked about their feelings anyway, but maybe he could make sure that the older Jedi didn't do anything foolish right after his harrowing experience. He looked for R2-D2 and noticed that he needn't have bothered - the little astromech droid was already rolling along happily behind Obi-Wan's retreating back.
Artoo was far more clever and emphatic than people gave him credit for. And the small mechanical being was a “him”, no doubt about that. Anakin knew that his old mentor liked their dome-shaped companion as well, despite Obi-Wan's constant admonishments that he was “only a droid, Anakin!” - usually accompanied by a long-suffering, untruthful sigh of despair. Therefore, Anakin felt Obi-Wan to be in good hands - or rather grapplers - when said man and Artoo disappeared behind a crate of medical supplies still waiting to be distributed.
Obi-Wan had noticed Artoo following him, of course, but his stern look to turn back was lost on the little guy. Naturally, the Jedi Master concluded. The astromech was very good at channeling Anakin's stubbornness and persistence - or should he say mulishness? Snorting softly, Obi-Wan sat down on a convenient stool parked behind the stack of crates the two of them had just passed, and waited for his silent shadow to reappear by his side.
Artoo didn't disappoint. He rolled up to his owner's oldest friend and softly nudged one of his booted feet. He beeped a short query and swiveled his head to observe the human with his single photoreceptor.
Obi-Wan smiled in response, but the expression couldn't mask the tiredness and the pain still etched onto his pallid features. “I'm fine, Artoo,” he insisted nonetheless, knowing it to be true - eventually. He had finally left his voluntary shackles behind and managed to free the slaves he had sworn to protect by any means necessary. Even if it meant appearing broken and desolate to anyone except Captain Rex.
The loyal clone trooper hadn't once wavered or left his general's side during their ordeal. Obi-Wan planned to give him a glowing recommendation - later, when this whole mess lay behind them and everyone had been restored to their rightful place. Right now, the clone was being treated for malnourishment and the chronic abuse that had been so much harder on him without the aid of the Force.
Artoo wasn't convinced by the human's statement. He burbled softly and added a few questioning notes.
Obi-Wan couldn't understand him as well as Anakin who seemed to be able to even think in binary, but he got the gist of the worried query. The astromech's insistence earned him another, more heartfelt smile.
“Really, Artoo,” Obi-Wan drawled. “Why don't you go and pester Anakin and Ahsoka? I'm sure they have a lot to say about your bravery.” Not that he would ever let his former Padawan hear him talking to a droid like this.
Artoo stayed put, moaning softly.
Obi-Wan grew serious again. He extended a still-dirty hand and patted his friend on his dome-shaped head. “Thank you. I know you did your best out there. And I really am fine. My path was just slightly more difficult that I had anticipated this time.”
The droid uneasily rocked from one heavy foot to the other, confused by this admission, until Obi-Wan finally stilled his movement with a piercing glare that stood in stark contrast to his rugged appearance. Artoo hooted in approval at the sign of such life and strength. The human would be fine indeed. After a thorough cleansing and some repairs. No, that wasn't right. He hummed to himself until he found the words he was looking for: Medical attention was needed here.
Artoo looked Master Obi-Wan over one more time, taking in the hunched shoulders that were symptoms of severe back pain and a crick in the neck, the shaggy hair and beard - and wasn't Obi-Wan constantly nagging Master Anakin about getting a decent haircut? - but also the clear eyes, the gentle smile just lurking at the corners of the Jedi's mouth, and the air of confidence that still clung to the damaged body.
He didn't pretend to completely understand human behavior and the needs of his non-mechanical companions, but Artoo possessed sufficient data to be satisfied by what he saw. No permanent damage had been done. Artoo chirped happily, performed one encouraging pirouette for his audience of one, and started to roll back the way he had come. Master Anakin was probably looking for him by now.
Obi-Wan watched the little droid go and hid a smile behind his too-long beard. “Thank you, Artoo,” he murmured again, certain that his little friend's fine-tuned sensors had picked up the sentiment. He decided to stay hidden for just a few more moments to take a deep breath. The medical crew would be pestering him soon enough. He wasn't looking forward to the meeting anyway.
Yes, the living conditions on Kadavo had been uncivilized, and the treatment had been even harsher, but there was nothing done to him - in body or spirit - that couldn't be fixed. He just needed some fresh clothes, a long shower - and a trimmer for his hair and beard. Some real food might be nice, too, because the Force could only sustain the body for so long. And afterwards a long meditation would be in order.
First he needed to get rid of his watchdog, though. Anakin, who had sent Artoo on his way with an audible pat on his white-and-blue dome, didn't even bother to try to hide his presence on the other side of the stack of supplies. So it was to be one of those days, wasn't it?
Obi-Wan shook his head in a mixture of annoyance and amusement and called out to his friend. “Anakin, stop loitering there as if you were invisible. I am not a bothersome youngling that needs looking after.”
His former student turned the corner, not even trying to appear chagrined, and smiled grimly. “You will forgive me my unbecoming curiosity,” he said unapologetic. “I'm just waiting for you to get back on your feet so I can send you to the med-center.” After a beat he added, “You look like hell. Master.”
There was no malice in his words, just well-meant worry, but they grated on Obi-Wan's high-strung nerves anyway. “You do know I can take of myself, right?” he sighed, annoyed by his friend's smug posture and misunderstood silent glare. He immediately held up a hand in apology and continued before Anakin could come back with a caustic retort that would just lead to another of their infamous arguments about nothing. “I am sorry, Anakin,” he said and allowed a little bit of his weariness to creep into his voice. “I just need a few minutes without disturbances before I submit to yet another round of well-meant poking and prodding.”
This admission spoke volumes about the real extent of Obi-Wan's injuries and tiredness. His former Padawan nodded in understanding and decided not to comment on it. Instead he turned to go, but he couldn't resist leaving behind one last admonishment. “Just make sure you really end up with the med-crew or I'll have to drag you there myself.” Then he departed as silently as he had appeared.
Obi-Wan couldn't let him have the last word. “Only in your dreams, my very young friend,” he said. He knew that Anakin had heard when the younger Jedi just shrugged and kept on walking with a jaunty spring in his step. Oh yes, they were both looking forward to their next encounter in the dojo. But when Obi-Wan finally got up a few minutes later, he had to ruefully admit to himself that Anakin may have been right. For once, the junior Jedi may be able to drag his former Master anywhere he wished without a serious fight.
Obi-Wan's head hurt in constant migraine now, his joints - formerly lubricated by adrenaline and the fight for freedom - had finally stiffened up, and his back and shoulders that had tasted the slavers' energy whip far too often burned like fire. Therefore, he wasn't overly surprised when Anakin waited for him just inside the corridor leading to sick bay, with Artoo by his side and Ahsoka rounding the opposite corner.
Not wanting to make a scene and unhappy about this unseeming display of caring, Obi-Wan simply walked by them and continued on his way. And if the soft footfalls of two fellow Jedi and the muted whirring of one little astromech droid following him made him feel better while walking to his imagined doom, who was there to judge him?
The Force was compassion. And so was acceptance.
For a fleeting moment, Obi-Wan thought he felt the once-familiar weight of a broad hand coming to rest on his shoulder - and then that moment had passed and only Obi-Wan and his friends remained.
It would have to be enough.
The End