Jedi and Rogues
Fandom: Supernatural/Star Wars
Title: Jedi and Rogues
Author: Maychorian
Characters: Obi-Wan Kenobi, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester
Category: Crossover, Gen, Drama
Rating: PG13/T (language)
Spoilers: None.
Summary: A butt-kicking Jedi apprentice and a badass planet-hopping ghosthunter walk into a bar...
Word Count: 1680
Disclaimer: A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away... Dean and Obi-Wan still didn't belong to me.
Author’s Note: For chocochip_pie, who requested a follow-up to this ficlet.
Jedi and Rogues
Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi had been standing stiffly at the bar, shoulders rigid and eyes narrowed, when Dean first approached to warn him about the two roughs tailing him. Now that they'd had a pretty awesome knock-down, drag-out, tooth-rattling, kneecap-busting fight, been thrown out of that cantina, found a new one, and had several celebratory drinks, the young Jedi was completely transformed. He sat loose and relaxed in the seat across from Dean, limbs akimbo, three-cornered grin lighting up their corner of the room. His changeable eyes sparkled, bright with drink and the aftermath of the fight, a small bruise darkening one corner of his bottom lip.
This cantina was smaller and smokier than the last. The music was hard and thumping, drifting from a holo-recorder in the far corner to slide into the greasy air and settle in the plasteel rafters overhead. Dean and Obi-Wan had found a relatively quiet corner, though, suitable for getting totally plastered.
"Where are you from, again?" Obi-Wan asked, twirling his latest shot of bright blue liquor in his fingers. "I believe you told me at some point back there, but I was trying to ignore you then."
Dean was sticking to lomin-ale, and the brew here was thick and hearty, with a hint of spice. He smiled back, sucking the foam off the top of his glass. "Kansamar, little Outer Rim planet, doubt you've heard of it. Friendly to the Republic but not part of it-we have our own ways."
"Yes, your vocabulary is somewhat odd. I'm glad you decided to stop on Coruscant when you did, though." He raised his shot in friendly salute.
Dean clinked glasses with him. He felt warm and expansive, every muscle loose, still humming faintly with energy after kicking in the teeth of those mercenaries. "Lucky chance. My brother Sam and I hop around the galaxy doing whatever comes to hand. Got an Impala-class cruiser, the Mary Elizabeth, and that's about it."
Obi-Wan nodded solemnly. "It's good to have someone with you, a partner. Before you leave you'll have to meet my master, Qui-Gon Jinn. I'm sure he'll want to thank you, too."
"Thanks, man, but me and my brother aren't much for gratitude and stuff. Mostly we just do what we do and then get out of town."
The young man's eyes were steady, far too piercing, knowing. "You don't much care for authority figures, do you?"
Dean shifted uncomfortably, leaning back in his seat. "Hey, you using that Jedi mumbo-jumbo on me? Cut it out."
"No, no, I promise you." Obi-Wan shook his head. "After years of studying negotiation with Master Jinn, I've simply become skilled at reading faces. Don't worry-my master, he's something of a rebel himself. He won't cause you any trouble."
Still, Dean's good feelings were draining away, his sense of well-being fading. He had known that it wasn't a good idea to get up close and personal with a Jedi, even a pup like this one. He should have just left the kid alone to deal with his own problems. But those thugs had been eyeing him with such murder in their eyes, and somehow the guy reminded him of his little brother, and he just couldn't let him get ambushed, taken down, hurt or injured or worse. Should have taken off afterward, though, instead of getting sucked into an actual conversation like this.
Obi-Wan was quiet, watching him carefully. Dean tried to smooth out his features, but he knew it was too late. Another way this kid was like Sam-he understood Dean far too well.
"I am sorry to cause you unease, friend," Obi-Wan said. "Is it because the Jedi are enforcers of the law? I assure you, I have no interest in whatever means you and your brother have found to make your way in the galaxy. I sense the light in you, the goodness, your desire to help others. You have nothing to fear from me."
Dean's mouth had gone dry. He took another gulp of ale, trying to come up with something to say. Nothing was coming to mind.
"Dean, Dean!"
Ninety-nine percent of the time, hearing Sam's voice after splitting up for awhile sent Dean into at-ease mode, tension releasing, mind letting go of the constant spin of wondering what was going on with his brother. This time, though, he thought his shoulders might actually have gone up around his ears. Sam had picked a terrifically shitty time to show up.
Not for the first time, he wished that he had just a touch of this "Force" stuff, too, so maybe he could communicate telepathically with his brother. So he could tell him to get out while the getting was good.
Obi-Wan looked up curiously as Sam made his way to them, broad-shouldered frame sliding effortlessly through the crowd of humanoids and aliens of all shapes and sizes. "You must be Sam Winchester." He nodded respectfully, and the Padawan braid slipped out from where it had been hiding behind his shoulder, revealing him for what he was.
Sam drew in a breath and halted, staring. "Yes, that's me."
Dean drew on irritation to bury his rising panic, letting it heighten his voice and sharpen his movements, the pleasant buzz from the alcohol entirely gone now. "Dude, how did you find me? I told you I'd meet you back at the ship. Did you put a tracker on me again?"
"No, I..." Sam cut a look over to the Jedi apprentice and shut up, but Dean knew what would have come next. I didn't need one.
It was getting even stronger. Dammit.
"I felt like I should come."
And that was all it took to give the game away.
Obi-Wan stared at Sam with frank and open fascination, calm and cool, again far too perceptive and knowledgeable. "The Force is strong with you."
Then the kid flinched and looked across the table to Dean, feeling the muzzle of the blaster pressed into his kneecap. Dean narrowed his eyes and leaned tensely across the table, one hand below the table gripping the blaster, the other still wrapped around his ale. His voice was low, dangerous. "Sit down, Sam."
Sam sat, or fell, rather, into a chair, and Obi-Wan just looked at them, his eyes wide and uncomprehending. "What is this? Why do you threaten me?"
Dean nudged the blaster harder into the bone. "Keep your voice low."
Obi-Wan frowned, eyes narrowing, but nodded stiffly. "What is the meaning of this?"
"The Jedi don't like us." Sam sighed and spread his hands, still trying to be conciliatory even now. "We usually try to avoid them. Knew it would be dangerous, stopping on Coruscant so near the Jedi Temple, but that was where the job took us. We're sorry about this. Just let us go, and there won't be any trouble."
"I still don't understand. Why would you fear the Jedi? Because you have the Force? There are many Force-sensitives outside the Jedi order. It is no shame, nothing to fear."
Sam and Dean shared a quick glance, then looked back at the Padawan. Dean tilted his head slightly. "That's not the impression we were under. A few years ago a Jedi attacked us. Said he'd seen a vision, that Sam was destined to go Dark Side because he'd never had any training. And, by the way, it is not Sam's fault that he was born on a podunk planet where the Jedi never come on their recruiting runs. We had to kill the guy."
Obi-Wan blinked. "That's...that's impressive."
"Yeah. He was a tough bastard, too."
Obi-Wan turned his head slowly back to Sam, keeping his movements careful and smooth. His face was still more puzzled than upset. "I do not sense any darkness in you," he said softly. "You might have been a powerful Jedi, if you had been taken into the Temple as a baby, but that does not mean that you are destined to fall. The Jedi who attacked you...he had no right. Always in motion is the future."
Sam slumped in his seat, suddenly limp with relief, and bowed his head into his hands. He had been waiting for so long for someone to say that. He'd been waiting for years.
Dean's heart clenched in his chest. He wanted to free one of his hands, put it on his baby brother's shoulder. It wasn't fair, the shit Sam had been through just because he had a unique gift. The galaxy was unkind, and no one knew that better than the Winchester boys, but this one thing had been particularly hard to take. He felt an overwhelming gratitude toward this Jedi kid for lifting that terrible burden of uncertainty from his brother.
That didn't make him let go of the blaster, though.
Obi-Wan was looking at him, now, still seeming completely relaxed and at ease. "What do you think, Dean?"
Dean blinked. No one had ever asked him that. "I say screw destiny, screw visions, screw the Jedi sonuvabitch who tried to kill us because of something that might happen someday. We make our own fate."
Sam raised his head to look at Obi-Wan, eyes just as soft and piercing as his. "And what do you say?"
"I say you are right." Obi-Wan nodded slowly. "I say you should come and meet my master. He would have much to say about this. And perhaps we can be of some help to you."
Obi-Wan lifted the shot glass in his hand and threw back the liquor in one swift swallow. And that, more than what he'd said, convinced Dean to lift the blaster and tuck it back in the holster on his shin. He looked to his brother, but there was no concern on Sam's face, just the bright shine of hope in his eyes. Finally, finally, they might have found an answer.
The Padawan rose to his feet, pulling a few credit markers from his belt pouch and plopping them on the table. "Come along then, my friends. We have much work to do."
(End)
Title: Jedi and Rogues
Author: Maychorian
Characters: Obi-Wan Kenobi, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester
Category: Crossover, Gen, Drama
Rating: PG13/T (language)
Spoilers: None.
Summary: A butt-kicking Jedi apprentice and a badass planet-hopping ghosthunter walk into a bar...
Word Count: 1680
Disclaimer: A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away... Dean and Obi-Wan still didn't belong to me.
Author’s Note: For chocochip_pie, who requested a follow-up to this ficlet.
Jedi and Rogues
Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi had been standing stiffly at the bar, shoulders rigid and eyes narrowed, when Dean first approached to warn him about the two roughs tailing him. Now that they'd had a pretty awesome knock-down, drag-out, tooth-rattling, kneecap-busting fight, been thrown out of that cantina, found a new one, and had several celebratory drinks, the young Jedi was completely transformed. He sat loose and relaxed in the seat across from Dean, limbs akimbo, three-cornered grin lighting up their corner of the room. His changeable eyes sparkled, bright with drink and the aftermath of the fight, a small bruise darkening one corner of his bottom lip.
This cantina was smaller and smokier than the last. The music was hard and thumping, drifting from a holo-recorder in the far corner to slide into the greasy air and settle in the plasteel rafters overhead. Dean and Obi-Wan had found a relatively quiet corner, though, suitable for getting totally plastered.
"Where are you from, again?" Obi-Wan asked, twirling his latest shot of bright blue liquor in his fingers. "I believe you told me at some point back there, but I was trying to ignore you then."
Dean was sticking to lomin-ale, and the brew here was thick and hearty, with a hint of spice. He smiled back, sucking the foam off the top of his glass. "Kansamar, little Outer Rim planet, doubt you've heard of it. Friendly to the Republic but not part of it-we have our own ways."
"Yes, your vocabulary is somewhat odd. I'm glad you decided to stop on Coruscant when you did, though." He raised his shot in friendly salute.
Dean clinked glasses with him. He felt warm and expansive, every muscle loose, still humming faintly with energy after kicking in the teeth of those mercenaries. "Lucky chance. My brother Sam and I hop around the galaxy doing whatever comes to hand. Got an Impala-class cruiser, the Mary Elizabeth, and that's about it."
Obi-Wan nodded solemnly. "It's good to have someone with you, a partner. Before you leave you'll have to meet my master, Qui-Gon Jinn. I'm sure he'll want to thank you, too."
"Thanks, man, but me and my brother aren't much for gratitude and stuff. Mostly we just do what we do and then get out of town."
The young man's eyes were steady, far too piercing, knowing. "You don't much care for authority figures, do you?"
Dean shifted uncomfortably, leaning back in his seat. "Hey, you using that Jedi mumbo-jumbo on me? Cut it out."
"No, no, I promise you." Obi-Wan shook his head. "After years of studying negotiation with Master Jinn, I've simply become skilled at reading faces. Don't worry-my master, he's something of a rebel himself. He won't cause you any trouble."
Still, Dean's good feelings were draining away, his sense of well-being fading. He had known that it wasn't a good idea to get up close and personal with a Jedi, even a pup like this one. He should have just left the kid alone to deal with his own problems. But those thugs had been eyeing him with such murder in their eyes, and somehow the guy reminded him of his little brother, and he just couldn't let him get ambushed, taken down, hurt or injured or worse. Should have taken off afterward, though, instead of getting sucked into an actual conversation like this.
Obi-Wan was quiet, watching him carefully. Dean tried to smooth out his features, but he knew it was too late. Another way this kid was like Sam-he understood Dean far too well.
"I am sorry to cause you unease, friend," Obi-Wan said. "Is it because the Jedi are enforcers of the law? I assure you, I have no interest in whatever means you and your brother have found to make your way in the galaxy. I sense the light in you, the goodness, your desire to help others. You have nothing to fear from me."
Dean's mouth had gone dry. He took another gulp of ale, trying to come up with something to say. Nothing was coming to mind.
"Dean, Dean!"
Ninety-nine percent of the time, hearing Sam's voice after splitting up for awhile sent Dean into at-ease mode, tension releasing, mind letting go of the constant spin of wondering what was going on with his brother. This time, though, he thought his shoulders might actually have gone up around his ears. Sam had picked a terrifically shitty time to show up.
Not for the first time, he wished that he had just a touch of this "Force" stuff, too, so maybe he could communicate telepathically with his brother. So he could tell him to get out while the getting was good.
Obi-Wan looked up curiously as Sam made his way to them, broad-shouldered frame sliding effortlessly through the crowd of humanoids and aliens of all shapes and sizes. "You must be Sam Winchester." He nodded respectfully, and the Padawan braid slipped out from where it had been hiding behind his shoulder, revealing him for what he was.
Sam drew in a breath and halted, staring. "Yes, that's me."
Dean drew on irritation to bury his rising panic, letting it heighten his voice and sharpen his movements, the pleasant buzz from the alcohol entirely gone now. "Dude, how did you find me? I told you I'd meet you back at the ship. Did you put a tracker on me again?"
"No, I..." Sam cut a look over to the Jedi apprentice and shut up, but Dean knew what would have come next. I didn't need one.
It was getting even stronger. Dammit.
"I felt like I should come."
And that was all it took to give the game away.
Obi-Wan stared at Sam with frank and open fascination, calm and cool, again far too perceptive and knowledgeable. "The Force is strong with you."
Then the kid flinched and looked across the table to Dean, feeling the muzzle of the blaster pressed into his kneecap. Dean narrowed his eyes and leaned tensely across the table, one hand below the table gripping the blaster, the other still wrapped around his ale. His voice was low, dangerous. "Sit down, Sam."
Sam sat, or fell, rather, into a chair, and Obi-Wan just looked at them, his eyes wide and uncomprehending. "What is this? Why do you threaten me?"
Dean nudged the blaster harder into the bone. "Keep your voice low."
Obi-Wan frowned, eyes narrowing, but nodded stiffly. "What is the meaning of this?"
"The Jedi don't like us." Sam sighed and spread his hands, still trying to be conciliatory even now. "We usually try to avoid them. Knew it would be dangerous, stopping on Coruscant so near the Jedi Temple, but that was where the job took us. We're sorry about this. Just let us go, and there won't be any trouble."
"I still don't understand. Why would you fear the Jedi? Because you have the Force? There are many Force-sensitives outside the Jedi order. It is no shame, nothing to fear."
Sam and Dean shared a quick glance, then looked back at the Padawan. Dean tilted his head slightly. "That's not the impression we were under. A few years ago a Jedi attacked us. Said he'd seen a vision, that Sam was destined to go Dark Side because he'd never had any training. And, by the way, it is not Sam's fault that he was born on a podunk planet where the Jedi never come on their recruiting runs. We had to kill the guy."
Obi-Wan blinked. "That's...that's impressive."
"Yeah. He was a tough bastard, too."
Obi-Wan turned his head slowly back to Sam, keeping his movements careful and smooth. His face was still more puzzled than upset. "I do not sense any darkness in you," he said softly. "You might have been a powerful Jedi, if you had been taken into the Temple as a baby, but that does not mean that you are destined to fall. The Jedi who attacked you...he had no right. Always in motion is the future."
Sam slumped in his seat, suddenly limp with relief, and bowed his head into his hands. He had been waiting for so long for someone to say that. He'd been waiting for years.
Dean's heart clenched in his chest. He wanted to free one of his hands, put it on his baby brother's shoulder. It wasn't fair, the shit Sam had been through just because he had a unique gift. The galaxy was unkind, and no one knew that better than the Winchester boys, but this one thing had been particularly hard to take. He felt an overwhelming gratitude toward this Jedi kid for lifting that terrible burden of uncertainty from his brother.
That didn't make him let go of the blaster, though.
Obi-Wan was looking at him, now, still seeming completely relaxed and at ease. "What do you think, Dean?"
Dean blinked. No one had ever asked him that. "I say screw destiny, screw visions, screw the Jedi sonuvabitch who tried to kill us because of something that might happen someday. We make our own fate."
Sam raised his head to look at Obi-Wan, eyes just as soft and piercing as his. "And what do you say?"
"I say you are right." Obi-Wan nodded slowly. "I say you should come and meet my master. He would have much to say about this. And perhaps we can be of some help to you."
Obi-Wan lifted the shot glass in his hand and threw back the liquor in one swift swallow. And that, more than what he'd said, convinced Dean to lift the blaster and tuck it back in the holster on his shin. He looked to his brother, but there was no concern on Sam's face, just the bright shine of hope in his eyes. Finally, finally, they might have found an answer.
The Padawan rose to his feet, pulling a few credit markers from his belt pouch and plopping them on the table. "Come along then, my friends. We have much work to do."
(End)